Fool's Gold

by Cassandra Dean

  However, he had more interesting concerns. Trailing kisses over the pale skin displayed above her corset, he pushed aside the chemise and cupped her breast. Her flesh plumped, and he traced the curve with his tongue. He reveled in her taste, but he wanted more.

  Jerking at her corset, he brought her closer.

  Gasping, she fell back, her arms bracing her against the counter, and he watched as her nipples tightened. Fascinated, he brushed his thumb over the rosy pink flesh, and it tightened further, becoming hard and flushed the more he played. Wetting his lips, he lowered his head and encased her with his mouth.

  Sharply, she arched into him. Curling an arm about her waist, he pulled her against him tight, licking and nipping and worrying her flesh, counting his success in her gasps, in her moans. In the way his blood rushed through him, in the painful hardness of his cock.

  Beneath him, she squirmed and twisted, and he realized what she was about. Sliding his hand up her thigh, he helped her drag her drawers down her legs, his mouth leaving her as he removed them completely. Her gaze locked with his, she moved back on the counter, laying herself down, and he followed, climbing onto the counter to lean over her. Her knee bent to make a place for him as he settled between her thighs, her hands reaching for the closure of his trousers. Ever nimble, within moments she had the buttons and his underwear undone, and she closed her hand around his cock

  He shut his eyes, the sensation overwhelming. It had been more time than he cared to remember since anyone but himself had handled his cock, and the fact it was Pearl with her hand around him made him dangerously near to spilling.

  Circling him, she stroked his length, learning his size and shape with her oh-so-agile fingers. Long, slow, hard, she stroked him over and again, and he just about died under her caress.

  Then, it became too much.

  “If you want me to do you some good, you might want to stop what you’re doing.” His voice sounded shattered, a guttural utterance like nothing he’d heard from himself before.

  With the wickedest smile he’d ever seen, she kept at her play.

  There was nothing for it, he had to stop her, or he really would be no use to her. Grabbing her wrists, he captured her hands above her head.

  That smile still on her face, she raised a brow.

  He couldn’t stop the twitch of his own lips. “Pleased with yourself, are you? Like driving me insane?”

  Her smile turned feline. “Oh, yes.”

  Well, that tore it. He needed to do the same to her.

  Holding her wrists with one hand, he reached between them. The feline grin disappeared when he found the place where her pleasure centered.

  Chest rising and falling, she bit her lip and her eyes turned slumberous. Circling that bit of flesh, he found her opening, delicately tracing the wet flesh up and down, up and down. Her breath caught, and she arched her back, her thighs tightening against his hips as she tensed against him.

  God, he wanted inside her. Now.

  Taking himself in hand, he notched against her, but he couldn’t make the final thrust. Not yet. Staring down at her, he waited.

  Arms still trapped above her head, her eyelashes fluttered until finally she looked him direct.

  Though it almost killed him, though he wanted her more than his next breath, he had to make sure. “You want this? You want me?”

  Her gaze clearing somewhat, she frowned.

  His arms shook as he held himself against her, waiting for her answer.

  Finally, finally, she smiled, that wicked smile. Wrapping her legs about his hips, she bumped against him. “If you don’t come inside me in the next ten seconds, I think I might have to kill you.”

  Relief stormed through him, and gently, he pressed inside.

  Oh God, she was hot and wet and everything he wanted. A few short thrusts, and he was fully within her, surrounded by her, gripping him tight and killing him with every rippling move. She lay stretched beneath him, her hands captured, and yet he was the one who felt taken.

  Pulling away, he slid back in, making sure to hit her where it would do the most good. Judging by the way her eyes rolled back, he’d done right by her.

  He started a rhythm, one that was slow and sweet. He wanted to make it good for her, he wanted to make it the best, and if he had to kill himself with restraint to do so, he would.

  Her lashes fluttered closed. Her hips moved in concert with his, her hands still trapped. Arching, she took him even as he took her.

  Slow. Sweet.

  Her breath hitched, came faster, a flush staining her skin.

  Burying himself in her neck, he tried his damnedest, but the rhythm disintegrated, becoming not so slow, not so steady. God, he didn’t think he could hold on much longer.

  Beneath him, she tensed, every part of her gripping him tight as he felt her pleasure break, his name a whisper on her lips.

  Freed, he lost the rhythm entirely, shoving himself into her, driven crazy by red hair and red lips and blue eyes entreating him to sin. Climax slammed through him, destroyed him, made it so the world contained him and her and the pleasure they made between them.

  Gradually, he became aware there were other things in the world. The tinkle of the chandelier above them. The howl of the blizzard outside. The fact he’d just made love to Pearl la Monte on the bar of the Diamond Saloon.

  Lifting his head, he stared down at her. Eyes shut, she swallowed, her legs still surrounding him. Gently, he smoothed the damp strands of red from her forehead.

  Her lashes fluttered open, and the intensity of her gaze hit him like a blow. Silent, they stared at each other.

  He had absolutely no idea what to say.

  “Would you like to come upstairs?” she finally said.

  He stared down into eyes of blue. Pearl’s eyes.

  He nodded.

  Chapter Three

  “Why do you have a tree in your room?”

  Turning her contemplation from the delicious lassitude suffusing her body, Pearl glanced at the man lying beside her. Chest bare and golden in the lamplight, Garrett had propped himself against the bed head, his hands gripping his biceps as he stared at one corner of her room.

  A curl of lust licked her belly. Christ Almighty, he was a fine looking man, in or out of his clothes, as she now had occasion to know. Probably when the blizzard passed so would this…whatever it was, but such thoughts wouldn’t stop her from enjoying it for as long as it lasted.

  However, that was neither here nor there, and she vaguely remembered he’d asked some sort of question. “What?”

  “Why do you have a tree in your room?”

  Pushing herself to a sitting position, she regarded the corner and its occupant. The smallish tree sat on a box she’d appropriated from the kitchen, covered with the hand-embroidered tablecloth one of the girls in Chicago had made her as a farewell gift. Around the tree, she’d placed every Christmas ornament she’d ever received, and if he asked, she could have told him the origin of each one. The star on top was a crystal Alice had brought back from San Francisco the year after Pearl had come to stay. With a wide grin, Alice had given her the sparkly tree-topper and said some schmaltzy nonsense about how she was giving a star to the star of the Spectacular.

  Something stung her eyes, and she quickly looked away. Damn it, she wasn’t going to tear up in front of Garrett.

  “Pearl? Why do you have a tree in your room?”

  Collapsing back onto the bed, she rubbed at the sting and pretended it weren’t water she rubbed at. “It’s my Christmas tree.”

  “It’s covered with tinsel.”

  “Yes.” Hands falling, she laced them over her stomach and glanced at him. “Because it’s a Christmas tree.”

  He looked back at her, all earnest and pretty, and damn, she wanted to lick a trail up the cord of his neck. “No, it’s literally covered with tinsel. You can’t even see the spines.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I like tinsel.” This is what he chose to talk about? They�
��d just done a whole host of interesting things to each other—and truth be told, she couldn’t wait to be doing them again—but he thought it best to comment on her Christmas tree?

  “Well, I’ll be. Miz Pearl with a Christmas tree. Who would have thunk it?”

  Heat burned up her neck and into her cheeks. Hell, and now he’d made her feel all awkward and shy-like, and probably made her look splotchy besides. “It ain’t something surprising. It’s that time of year and all.”

  “I know, but I never thought…” He shook his head. “Where’s the red satin and the paintings made of sin?”

  All the awkward disappeared in the face of complete astonishment. She…. He…. What? “Paintings made of sin?”

  “Miz Pearl, you are a wicked, wicked creature. Surely your rooms should reflect that?”

  Absolutely flabbergasted, she could only stare with her mouth hanging open. What?

  His lips twitched.

  “Damn it, are you funning me?”

  He shook his head, all solemn and serious-like. “Not at all. Honest.”

  Yeah, sure. Still regarding him with suspicion, she shoved her hair over her shoulder. Another thing annoying her. The long red tresses were an asset on stage, but they wreaked havoc when she forgot to braid it before setting her head to her pillow.

  Garrett watched her wrestle with the tangled mess. “Your hair is a marvel.”

  The admiring look on his face and the way he spoke the words, all smoky and husky, set her heart to stutter right there in her chest. “It’s just hair. Too much of it, truth be told.”

  “No, ma’am. It’s a glory, and don’t let no one tell you any different.”

  Again, a blush heated her skin, and a strange kind of pleasure, too. She’d been told all manner of things regarding her person, that she were an angel, a nymph, a goddess come to life. All these things she’d dismissed, much as she’d dismissed the men saying them. But Garrett telling her, with a tilt to his mouth and a solemnity to his eyes, her hair was a glory had her all flustered and downright flattered.

  He was a puzzle, this man she’d only ever know as Garrett. Stuck up, stick in the mud, too polite to be real Garrett. What a fool she was, to ever believe such. Oh, sure it was he were polite, but he lay now in her bed and had brought her to bliss three times over, and pray God, would do so again.

  After such pretty words, his fingers found the line of her hair, tracing it and her brows besides. She closed her eyes under such gentle touches, a strange sort of peace settling over her.

  “Why do you have so many ornaments?”

  His words broke her peace. Eyes snapping open, she jerked from his touch. “I get given stuff.”

  Fingers curling, his hand fell away. “But so much stuff.”

  “Let me guess. It’s a surprising thing?” Irritation flared, a return to the usual state of affairs with him. She couldn’t rightly say why his question rubbed her so wrong, but she welcomed the irritation, preferable as it was to the soft feeling his sweeter words stirred in her.

  Launching herself from the bed, she stalked over to the tree. Grabbing the first cloth she could find, she threw it over the tree and whirled to face him. “There. Happy? Now you can’t see my tinsel-covered Christmas tree or the ornaments.”

  Brows drawn, he pushed from the bed. “Pearl, I didn’t mean—”

  “I’ll have you know I was given each and every one of those ornaments, and I will not have a bad word said against them.” Finding her robe, she pulled it over the chemise and drawers she’d donned after their last bout in deference to the cold.

  “I wasn’t saying a bad word, I was just asking a question.” He moved toward her, stopping not more than a foot away. “Who gave them to you?”

  “Everyone. Everyone gives them to me. The girls in the dance hall in Chicago. The girls here at the Diamond. Alice.”

  “And you’ve kept them.”

  She crossed her arms. “Of course.”

  A lovely kind of half-smile played about his features. “Of course,” he said softly.

  Feeling awkward, she looked away. She was flying off the handle for no good reason. She knew it, she did, but she…. They….

  Hell.

  He was Garrett. Garrett. And he weren’t sniping at her as he usually did, he was acting all interested, and they’d just spent the afternoon in bed.

  Christ Almighty. She never could have predicted they would be together here. In her bed.

  Coming before her, he raised his hands to her shoulders. “I’m not saying any of this to be contrary, Miz Pearl. It’s just…I find you…interesting.”

  She looked up at him. “Do you?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Feeling stupidly shy, she lowered her gaze only to be confronted by his bare chest. His beautiful, broad, golden chest. His second half weren’t any more decent, modesty preserved only by the drawers he’d pulled up loose about his hips. Her mouth dried at the display of his beauty, and even more stupidly, a fire burned again in her cheeks.

  “Are you blushing?”

  The incredulity of his tone had her gaze snapped to his. “What? No.”

  “You are blushing!” Delight lit his face. “Why? I can’t have anything you haven’t seen before.”

  She scowled. How was it he had her blushing, and so easily besides? “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not one to make a habit of inviting men to my bed.”

  “I know.”

  Annoyed at the confidence of his tone, her scowl darkened. “You know? How do you know?”

  Delight still drew his features. “I haven’t seen you take a man in all my time here in Freewill, and that’s been what, four years?”

  “I haven’t seen you take a woman,” she retorted.

  “No. But we have now.” His smile faded. “Are we going to discuss what happened?”

  Averting her gaze, she mumbled, “I hadn’t planned upon it.” But then, she hadn’t planned on any of it. An uneasiness roiled in her belly, one that needed distracting. “We should eat. Must be close to dinnertime by my reckoning.”

  “Hey.” Gentle fingers smoothed her brow. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Focusing on a spot somewhere south of his chin, she tightened her hands on her biceps. “Okay.”

  “I just thought we might want to discuss…stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I’m fine with not discussing. I mean, I liked how we communicated. Earlier.”

  Looking up at him, she found he wore an expression approaching a grin. “Communicated?”

  “You know. There.” He waved in the bed’s general direction.

  “Oh.” A grin tugged at her lips. “You mean communicated.”

  “Yeah. What man wouldn’t like communicating with a fine woman such as yourself?” Grabbing her waist, he tugged her to him.

  With a laugh, she braced her hands on his chest. “Why, Mr. Garrett, I had no notion you were so forward.”

  Wearing a wide grin, he leaned in close. “I’d say both our notions of the other were incorrect. Shall we see about remedying a misconception or two?”

  She fluttered her lashes. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

  Apparently, that was all the encouragement he needed to kiss her. And he kissed her good.

  Arousal prickling her skin, she forced herself to pull back. “Are you hungry?”

  “Only for you.” His stomach grumbled, and he smiled apologetically. “And for food.”

  A laugh bubbled inside her. “Well, I’d hate to think we don’t feed our guests proper during their stay. Why don’t we see what we can rustle up?”

  Expansively, he exhaled. “A woman after my own heart. Careful, Miz Pearl, you keep anticipating my needs like this, and I just might have to court you proper.”

  She snorted. “After all the fighting and fussing we subjected the town to? None would believe it.”

  “Probably not. But I’d be moved to be convincing.”

/>   “Of course you would.”

  He arranged a pious look upon his features. “It would be the right thing to do. I like the town. I like its folk.” Hooking his fingers in her robe’s sash, he tugged her close. “I like you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Damn right.”

  And again he kissed her. There was passion in it, so much, and yet there was sweetness, too. She lost herself in him, in a man she’d thought she disliked. Christ Almighty, was there ever a woman more foolish than her?

  With a soft exhalation, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Now. Dinner?”

  Chapter Four

  Ethan stared down at Pearl. Unaware of his perusal, she slept on, her face peaceful and her chest rising and falling gently. She’d pushed the bed covers down to her waist, a wide vee of her skin revealed by the half-opened chemise, trapped and pulled tight by her body. The cloth had fallen sometime in the night, and the light from the lamp hit the tinsel on her Christmas tree, throwing color and spangles over the creamy flesh. An insane urge rose within him, an urge to see if the colors would change the flavor of her.

  Ignoring it, he looked at her, just looked. He’d had occasion to do so before, of course—her presence in the Spectaculars was nothing if not an invitation to stare—but he’d never seen her as she was now, utterly relaxed in sleep. Fiery red curls tumbled over the pillow—an improbable shade of red he’d always admired—and her brow was free of the frown she usually wore in his presence.

  Lord above, the sight of her sleeping next to him was about the prettiest he’d ever seen.

  Light as air, he brushed his fingers over her cheek and brow. He’d never even dreamed they’d end here. Before, they’d cussed and fought, he with abject politeness and she with the flirty demeanor he loved. He’d been convinced she despised him. Now…now he knew she didn’t. Now, everything had changed.