The broken boy - healed by innocence

Good, scary kisses

*Cooper*

Kissing her was a damn stupid thing to do, almost as stupid as letting her goad me into doing it. I should have just brushed my lips over hers and laughed it off, but no. My competitive nature took hold, and I had be damned if I was going to let Berringer give her a kiss more memorable than mine.

So I poured need, longing, and yearning into the kiss that nearly knocked my boots off. Sweet Goddess, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. And now I'm pacing my porch, finishing off my whiskey, trying to wash away the taste of her. Champagne had darkened her flavor, and I thought I detected a hint of all the sarsaparilla sticks we have shared over the years. Or maybe I was trying to find some evidence she was still a child, some aspect of her that would make me think of her once again as the little girl I have always wanted to protect. But she sure as hell isn’t a kid any longer.

She Is a grown she-wolf, and when she pressed herself against my body, I felt every soft curve, hollow, line, and... those little hard n*****s that made me want to lower her bodice and lick. But I managed to find some semblance of self-preservation somewhere because I knew if her father ever found out, he would put me six feet under. But I can’t help but believe that one of those n*****s against my tongue would have been worth the journey.

I ache with a need to possess her that has me fairly trembling and terrified as hell that I won't find the strength to never touch her again.

And I am going to have to touch her again to get her up into the saddle because the liquor has made her too unsteady to get herself up there. I don't know how she managed it the first time. Then I will have to escort her home. I halfway want her to say something. Instead, she just stands there swaying slightly and watching me. I can't leave her out here, can't think of a way to tactfully get us both out of this mess.

"Cooper?" she whimpers, her voice sounding small, like that of a newborn kitten.

"What?" I ask softly.

"I think I'm going to be sick." She drops to her knees and heaves.

I am at her side, rubbing her back, before the second round hits her. Then the absurdity of the situation strikes me, and I can't help it. I laugh, boisterously, with an edge of relief and embarrassment. When she glares at me, I laugh again.

As she straightens, I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe her lush, perfect, beautiful mouth. "My kiss wasn't that bad, was it, Faith?"

She gives me a halfhearted smile. "No, but I feel awful."

"You're gonna feel a lot worse in the morning. Come on, let's get you to bed," I say softly.

"I don't think I can ride." She mumbles.

She has developed a gift for understatement. Even if I sat behind her and kept her in the saddle, it would be a long, torturous journey for us both… her because of the illness she is experiencing and me because she would be in my arms.

"You can sleep here." I tell her.

I help her to her feet. She takes two steps before she starts to stumble. I sweep her into my arms. With a little sigh, she nestles her head in the crook of my shoulder.

"I always thought I was too tall to be carried," she says pensively.

"It's all in the leverage." I mumble.

She gives her head a little shake, "You're just strong. I have seen you bring a steer to its knees. Seen you do a lot of stuff."

"That's because you have been around for so long now. Nineteen is a lot of years." I tell her.

I carry her into the cabin, into my bedroom, and lay her down on the bed. Her eyes are closed, and I figure she has already fallen asleep. I start removing her shoes.

"Do you ever want more than this?" she asks wistfully.

Of course, I want more. Like the ground thirsts for rain, and bees crave nectar. I long to kiss her again until we're both breathless. I yearn to lay my body over hers and cause it to snap with relief when the tension is too tight, her cries of release echoing around me. "Go to sleep."

"You kiss good," she mumbles. "Better 'n Cole."

I grimace. While her slurred words should have me puffing out my chest with pride, I can't get past the fact that the kiss never should have happened… and she wouldn't be here if she hadn't had too much to drink. "About that. It shouldn't have happened, Faith."

"I know. 'Cuz of that she-wolf you love. Tell me who she is, and I'll let her know you're a good kisser." She mumbles.

I set the shoes aside. "That's probably not a very good courting strategy."

"Are you courting her?" She asks.

I sigh, "No."

"You should." She follows that comment with a little snore.

No, I shouldn't. I'm too old for her. Too broken. And if I hadn't stopped that kiss when I had, I would have carried her in here and shown her exactly why I wasn't good enough for her. I want her with a need that scares the hell out of me.

Reaching across her, I grab the quilt and fold it over her. Then I stand there for the longest time just watching her sleep.