by Tracy Wolff
Her dress was red—bright, fire-engine red—as were the bra and panties beneath it. And while it had long sleeves and a modest neckline, it clung lovingly to her every curve. Her shoes were stilettos—impractical and sexy, they showed off her rider’s legs to great advantage.
She checked to make sure her hair and makeup were as close to perfection as she could get them. It was after eight o’clock and Jesse should be here any minute. He usually stopped working about this time every night, or at least took a break before heading back out. But if things went according to plan tonight, Jesse wouldn’t leave the apartment before morning. And neither would she.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside and panic crawled sickly through her stomach. This was it, her last chance. If he rejected her now…
Forcing any negative thoughts to the back of her mind, Desiree flew to the kitchen and stirred the sauce, trying desperately to look as normal as possible under the circumstances. As if it was normal for her to be cooking in Jesse’s house, dressed to the nines.
She heard the door open and his footsteps come to an abrupt halt. Taking a deep breath, she turned, smiling, to greet the man she was determined to spend the rest of her life with.
He was frowning, his eyes narrow and suspicious as he examined the small table set for two. His gaze met hers from across the room, anything but welcoming.
For a second her courage deserted her and she had to fight the urge to run as fast and as far as her skinny heels would carry her. Then she noticed the quick flicker in his eyes, the spark of desire that came and went so quickly she might have imagined it.
“Hey, Jesse.” She approached him.
“Desiree. What are you doing here?”
“We haven’t said more than ten words to each other since I got back from school a few months ago. I thought it was past time that we caught up.”
He raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Caught up, huh?”
She flushed. “Absolutely.” She gestured to the kitchen. “I made dinner. I thought we could talk while we ate.”
He stalked toward her. “What is it, exactly, that you want to talk about, Desiree?” His voice was low, unnerving.
She shrugged, forced a laugh, tried desperately to look and sound unconcerned. “You. The horses. The ranch. Whatever.”
This time both eyebrows rose. “Whatever?” He continued to cross the room with slow, deliberate steps.
She knew she should hold her ground, knew she shouldn’t let him see that he intimidated her. Still, she retreated. One step, then another and another, as he came closer.
Before Desiree knew it, she was backed against the kitchen counter, Jesse’s long, lithe body only inches from her own. He smelled like horses, like fire, like sweat—a combination that should have been unpleasant but wasn’t. She took a deep breath, savoring the sexy, seductive scent of him.
Electricity crackled between them. She wanted to touch him, to run her fingers through the silky darkness of his hair as she pressed her body to his and begged him to take her. She wanted to feel his lips on her, needed to touch and taste him everywhere at once. Her nipples peaked beneath her lace bra at the thought, and an ache started low in her belly as her breathing grew ragged. She watched his eyes darken to ebony, felt the heat radiating from him and knew, finally, that he wasn’t nearly as unmoved as he wanted her to believe.
“Jesse.” She was restless, aching for him in every cell of her being.
She watched his gaze drop to her breasts, felt his sudden intake of breath as he stared at the tight buds pressing against the thin silk of her dress. He leaned closer, crowding her, his chest scant inches from her own as his lips hovered over hers.
“Jesse.” It was a plea, and both of them knew it. Her eyelids fluttered as seconds stretched into a minute. Then he was reaching for her, past her, snatching a carrot slice from the salad and turning away.
“I need to take a shower before we eat,” he commented as he headed toward his bedroom, his breathing level and his long stride relaxed. “I’ll make it quick.”
Desiree stared, openmouthed, as the door closed behind him. Her knees trembled, but she locked them in place as fury ripped through her. The bastard. The unbelievable, arrogant bastard!
How dare he get her all stirred up, then walk away?
How dare he get that close, then not follow through?
How dare he not want her?
Her eyes narrowed as she heard the shower start, as she imagined him stripping that beautiful body. A picture rose in her head—him wet and naked, his long hair slicked back and his bronze body glistening as water and steam surrounded him.
Desire rose sharply and nearly drowned out the anger. Nearly.
Eyes narrowed in calculation, she drained the pasta, switched off the sauce. Should she have dinner ready and waiting when he got out, as if he hadn’t just rejected her for the millionth time? Should she leave, duck out before he finished his shower? Everything in her—from her pride to her love for him—rebelled at the thought of turning tail. Or should she stay and seduce him as he’d never been seduced before?
Desiree grinned slyly—as if she even had to think about the choices. There was only one place she wanted to be and that was in the shower with him. She reviewed her earlier plan, making changes in her head even as she stealthily opened the bedroom door. She’d show Jesse. She’d make him beg to have her, make him grovel before he laid a hand on her.
Crossing the room to the open bathroom door, she inhaled his scent floating on the billowing steam. Watched as his silhouette moved behind the shower curtain. And began to undress. Quickly, before she second-guessed herself. Before she changed her mind.
When she was naked, Desiree took a deep breath and prayed that she was doing the right thing. Then, with fingers crossed, she slipped soundlessly into the shower.
Jesse faced the spray, his head bent as water cascaded over his hair and down his muscular chest. His arms were braced against the wall, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rigid.
He spun to face her as she closed the shower curtain and she nearly swallowed her tongue at her first look at his naked, heavily aroused body—so long and hard that she was sure he must be in pain. Any plans she had flew right out of her head.
“What are you doing?” he barked, his voice low and tormented as he stared at her.
She cleared her throat and moved so that she was next to him, so close she could share the warm spray. He tensed even more, shifting so she had more space. Though it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, Desiree smiled and reached, with studied casualness, for a bottle of shampoo. “It occurred to me that I could use a shower, too. I’ve been working with the horses most of the day.”
Of course, she’d spent nearly half an hour in her own shower—shaving and cleansing and moisturizing—before heading to Jesse’s, but she saw no reason to bring that up. Tilting her head back, Desiree let the water wash over her short crop of red hair, lifting her hands to her head to lather in the shampoo, desperately aware of how her breasts lifted at the movement, her nipples puckering and begging for his attention.
She closed her eyes, but could still feel his hot gaze over her as his breathing grew harsh. Please, God, don’t let him send her away. Don’t let him reject her again.
“Desiree, stop.” So low they were almost a growl, the words slammed into her, making her heart stutter and her body jerk.
She opened her eyes, stared into his, shocked at the anger and desire moving in them. She wanted to say something sophisticated, something sexy, but when she spoke, only the truth came out. “I can’t.”
She reached for him, but he grabbed her shoulders, kept her at arm’s length. “We can’t do this.”
“Why can’t we?” Her eyes wandered down to the proof of his desire. “I know you want me, and it’s more than obvious that I want you. So what’s the problem?” She clutched one of his hands in her own and pressed it to her breast.
Jesse groaned, his thumb sweeping over h
er hardened nipple of its own volition. For long moments he caressed her. He closed his eyes, a look of agony on his face as he moved to pull his hand away.
She grabbed it, held his fingers in place as she arched toward him. “Don’t leave me like this, Jesse. Please, don’t leave me.”
Shuddering, he pulled her into the shelter of his body. He pressed his face into her neck as he fought for control. “I’m years too old for you, Desiree. I knew you when you were still a child.”
Smiling, she reached down and let her fingers lightly travel the length of him. “I haven’t been a child since the day I first saw you.” She continued to stroke him, watched as his eyes grew hazy, listened as his breath hitched first once and then again. “And I’m certainly not a child now.”
“I work for your father.” The words were wrenched from him as he thrust helplessly against her hand.
“He’s not here.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body fully against him. “This isn’t about him.” Leaning forward, she licked a drop of water from his chest—following the trail from his nipple to his throat to a spot right under his left ear.
“Desiree.” Her name was ripped from him as he exploded, lifting her against the cool tile wall. His mouth captured hers, his tongue thrusting inside as he tasted every part of her. She moaned, her lips parting to give him better access as he devoured her.
His teeth closed over her lower lip, nipping at its fullness as he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching slightly, laughing as she gasped and arched against him.
She’d expected her first time to be slow and gentle, full of whispers and soft caresses. She’d dreamed of giving herself to Jesse, dreamed of sweetness and tenderness. What she got was none of that, yet somehow so much more.
His mouth raced frantically across her cheek, over her neck, down her breast until he reached her nipple. Pulling the hard nub into his mouth, he sucked, his tongue circling the areole. She gasped, moaned, pushed herself against his mouth as tension wound tighter and tighter within her.
He moved between her thighs, spreading her legs wide as his mouth continued to pull on her breast, his thumb slipping between them to find her hottest point.
Heat. Joy. Pleasure so intense she nearly convulsed swept through Desiree before she was ready, before she could prepare herself. She screamed, wrapping her legs around Jesse’s waist, opening herself to him as he slid home.
Pain exploded inside of her and she tensed. She heard Jesse curse, felt his instinctive withdrawal. But the pain was fading quickly, a hot urgency taking its place so that she began moving frantically against him.
He groaned, low and deep, thrusting against her as his mouth moved once again to her own. She could tell he wanted to slow down, wanted to be gentle, but she was desperate for completion. Her body was spiraling up, up, beyond her control, and she wanted, needed to take him with her this first time.
She reached between them, rubbed her fingers over his peaked nipples, reveling in the groan he couldn’t hold back.
“Stop!” he gasped. “It’s too soon. You’re not ready.”
But she was ready, so ready that it was all she could do to keep from going off like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. And then his hand was between her legs, rubbing her and she couldn’t hold back, didn’t know how to hold back.
She screamed as her body convulsed, long and high and keening as Jesse slammed into her again and again. Suddenly he stiffened and pleasure like she’d never imagined swept through her, into her, holding her in its grasp for one long, timeless moment.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that—a tangle of arms and legs and bodies pressing against the shower wall. But the water had run cold before the tremors shaking her subsided and he finally moved. She protested when he pulled away and let her legs slide down his slippery body until her feet hit the floor.
“Jesse—”
“Shh,” he interrupted as he began to wash her quickly, skimming the washcloth intimately over her body before rinsing her off.
She willed him to say something, anything, willed him to gather her against him and hold on tight. But he was silent as he washed himself even more quickly before turning off the water.
She tried to talk to him once more, but he pinned her with a look of such anger and disgust that she shrank from him. He draped a towel around his hips, wrapped one around her and carried her into the bedroom, where he settled her gently on the bed.
Silence, tense and angry, stretched between them, and each minute that passed stretched her nerves a little bit tighter. Desiree watched as Jesse paced the room, his big hands raking through his hair again and again.
Finally, when she was nearly insane from the waiting, he sat on the bed near to her. His face was grim. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Confusion filled her. “Tell you what?”
“Don’t play games with me, Desiree!” His voice snapped with repressed rage. “You were a virgin. Why the hell didn’t you mention that fact before…” He broke off.
“Before what?” Her temper flared before she could control it. “Before you made love to me? I didn’t think it was important. And I figured you knew.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “How the hell was I supposed to know? You sure didn’t act like a virgin—coming here to sleep with me, climbing into the shower with me, touching me the way you did!” His voice rose with every word, until he was shouting.
Embarrassment swept through her at his reminder of her uninhibited behavior, but she’d be damned before she let him see it. “Who exactly am I supposed to have slept with? I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old! Who else would I let touch me?”
His face darkened dangerously, frustration in every line of his body as he turned away, resting his elbows on his knees. She watched him breathe deeply—once, twice and then again and again—until the darkness slowly faded away and he turned back to her. “Desiree…”
She looked into his eyes, saw the regret he didn’t even try to hide. She struggled to smile despite the pain of his rejection. She wanted to leave, wanted to be anywhere but here, doing anything but having this discussion. Not now, while her body still hummed from her first orgasm. Not while her muscles ached pleasantly and all she really wanted to do was climb into the center of the bed with Jesse and make love again.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said quietly, even as her heart broke. “I understand.” She stood, pulling the towel more tightly around her as she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “But I’m glad you didn’t know. If it would have stopped you from making love to me, then I’m glad I didn’t tell you.”
“Is that what you think?” His eyes narrowed as he grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the bed beside him. “That I wouldn’t have made love to you?” He sighed, his eyes steady and sincere on hers.
“Oh, darlin’, you couldn’t be more wrong.” Jesse pulled her into his arms, let his lips trail lightly down her cheek. “I’ve wanted you since you were seventeen, Desiree. Years too young for me and so beautiful you broke my heart. There’s no way I could have turned you away tonight, even though I wanted to. No way I could resist taking what I’ve wanted for five long years.”
“Then why are you so angry at me?”
His smile was sad as his thumb brushed gently over her mouth. “Not you, darlin’. Never you.” He gripped her hands in his, lowered his forehead until it rested on hers. “I’m angry with me. I shouldn’t have taken you like that—fast and hard, up against a wall.”
He shook his head, his mouth twisted with disgust. “I hurt you and I didn’t have to. If I’d known, if I hadn’t been so blind, I’d have done it differently. I’d still have loved you—I don’t think anything could have stopped me after all these years of needing you—but I would have made damn sure it was good for you.”
Tears flooded her eyes before she could stop them as all her dreams came true at once. “It was good for me, Jesse. Wonderfu
l. Fantastic. Amazing.” She leaned into his warmth, savoring the feel of his nakedness against her.
Pulling her into his lap, he ran his hands through her hair as he cuddled her against him. Desiree relaxed slowly as she listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. “I love you.”
“I know, darlin’.” His voice was heavy, his eyes sad and dark. “God knows you shouldn’t, but I’m so glad you do.” He brushed his lips against hers.
It was supposed to be a soft kiss, a safe kiss, but she lit up at the first touch of his mouth. Pulling him tightly against her, Desiree slowly traced his lips with her tongue before pulling his bottom lip between her teeth. She nipped playfully, laughed as he groaned against her, as he pushed her gently onto the bed and covered her body with his own.
“Are you sore?” he asked, sliding his knee between her own.
Her smile blazed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not even a little.”
“Then why don’t I do this right this time?” He leaned down, traced the hollow of her neck with his tongue.
She shivered, arching up to give him better access. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with last time, but practice…mmm…makes perfect.”
He grinned as he lowered his mouth to her nipple. “Desiree?”
“Yes?” Her voice was low, breathless.
“You do know that I’m a perfectionist, don’t you?”
She shuddered as his fingers found her and began to stroke. “Thank goodness.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
JESSE BENT TO PICK up the shards of glass from the tumbler he’d thrown earlier, grimacing when one of the pieces sliced his finger. The glass had been one of a set her father had prized—given to him by the last man who’d ever trained a horse that won the Triple Crown, Big John had sworn the glasses were lucky.
So much for luck. Still, Jesse shouldn’t have thrown the stupid thing—the glasses were a tangible symbol of everything Desiree wanted and therefore were special to her. Besides, it didn’t belong to him. Like everything else on this ranch, it belonged to Desiree and would be passed on to their children when she died.