Taming of Jessi Rose

by Beverly Jenkins

  Afterward she lay on the bed sated and dewed with sweat. She was lying on her belly, not wanting to move ever again. He lay beside her, languidly stroking the strong column of her spine, marveling once again at her beauty. “Still think you’re too old for me?” he asked softly.

  “At this moment, yes. I couldn’t move even if Darcy came through the front door shooting.”

  Griffin didn’t believe that for a second, but he was glad she felt so satisfied.

  “You’re very good at this, too, Griffin Blake.”

  He placed a kiss at the base of her spine. “So are you. Be right back.”

  Before Jessi could ask anything, he was gone. He returned shortly, dragging the big claw-footed tub that usually sat on the back porch. The tub had been purchased by her father on a trip to Mexico early in her parents’ marriage, and it was more than large enough for Jessi to sit and stretch out in, unlike the hip bath she regularly employed.

  After positioning the tub on the far side of the room, he left once more. This time, he returned hauling two cauldrons of the water she’d heated for the wash. She couldn’t help but admire the red and gold beauty of his muscular nude body. He poured the water into the tub.

  “So that’s why you asked about the wash water,” she said, getting up and walking to where he stood. “I don’t think I’ve ever taken a bath in the middle of the day, but then again,” and she ran the tip of her finger down his fur-dappled chest, “I’m doing a lot of things with you I’ve never done before.”

  He raised her hand and tenderly kissed the tips of her fingers. “And much more before the day is done, believe me.”

  She stepped gingerly over the edge and stuck a toe in. The water was hot, but not too hot to enjoy. “What’re you going to do while I bathe?”

  “Watch.”

  Jessi’s passion flared to life and her gaze became a prisoner to his hot eyes.

  Griffin knew that a gentleman would’ve withdrawn so his lady could bathe privately, but because Griffin had never claimed to be a gentleman, he stretched out on the bed and feasted his eyes on her glorious dark curves.

  “You’re really going to stay?” she asked.

  “Sure, why not? The view’s as pretty as a sunrise.”

  No man had ever seen Jessi bathe before, not even her late husband. Hell, he had never even seen her fully unclothed, if her memory served correctly, yet this train robber seemed to look upon this as a natural aftermath to what they’d just shared, and Jessi supposed he was right.

  With his glowing eyes ever present in her mind, Jessi eased down into the water and felt the silkiness envelop her. Her eyes slid closed for a moment and for the first time in a long time, she had no worries. Jessi loved baths, always had, but since her father’s death, she’d had no time to spare for indulgences.

  “Is the water warm enough?” he asked softly.

  “Oh, yes.”

  The pleasurable purr made Griffin’s manhood quicken and he knew he had to have her again soon. What had begun as harmless flirtation with this lady rancher had turned into something so complicated that Mexico seemed very far away. He was in the prime of his life, far too young to be bound to one woman, mainly because there were so many others yet to meet, but his body and mind seemed to be running on opposing tracks. Jessi Rose Clayton was in his blood and he wasn’t sure if he wanted a cure.

  She looked so peaceful lying there with her head back and her eyes closed, he padded over to the tub and knelt behind her. When she turned up her face, he kissed her possessively.

  Soon his hands were wandering beneath the water’s clear surface, once again sensually exploring her valleys, hills, and plains. He took her soap and cloth and washed her gently, pampering her, sliding his soap-slick hands over the arching buds of her breasts and the deep, throbbing darkness between her thighs. He was so achingly adept, she knew he’d done this many times before, undoubtedly with a variety of women, but she didn’t care; she was just glad they’d taught him so well.

  He rinsed her, and using a drying sheet, toweled her off slowly. As he moved his hands over her breasts and down her belly, he asked, “Are you sore?”

  Jessi had no idea what he meant until he languidly grazed a bold knuckle over the tip of her heat-filled dampness.

  “Are you sore here?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” she managed to say, but she was very hot there, thanks to him.

  He stole a soft kiss from her lips, saying, “It’s been so long for you. We need to be sure…”

  Through the foggy haze of her spiraling desire, Jessi could feel him touching her gently, wickedly, expertly. Do couples do this more than once a day? a voice in her mind asked. Jessi had no way of knowing, and it didn’t really matter. What did matter was the low, passion-filled purr she gave as he slid a long, tapered finger into the source of her heat.

  His eyes were glittering with a need that equaled her own as she tightened and pulsed around him. “I think you’re okay,” he whispered provocatively. “Let’s see if I can make you bloom, Jessi Rose…”

  She felt bereft as he freed himself from her softness, but her longing soon fled. With his hands and mouth, he feasted his way down her damp body, touching, teasing, making her succumb to his spell all over again. On his knees he filled his hands with her dark hips and brought her forward. This time, she didn’t muffle her responses to his glorious plundering. As he parted her and lingered, her cries and moans rose. In the end, it took him only a few minutes to make her shatter and scream loud enough to be heard in Austin.

  Declaring her fit, he laid her back on the bed and there under the sunbeams streaming through the windows, taught her that yes, there were couples who made love more than once a day, and how wonderful it was to be one of those couples. He coaxed her astride him and it was unlike any riding she’d ever done before. The position gave him access to all of a young man’s toys and she let him play and play until the world exploded again for them both.

  “This was not supposed to happen again,” she told him, when she could finally speak again.

  “What wasn’t supposed to happen?” he asked, lying beside her again, stroking her back softly.

  “This. You and I.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it wasn’t. I figured, one time, then I’d be cured.”

  “And you’re not.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him lying there all nude and glorious. “No.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  Jessi turned back. She didn’t know.

  “You’re a passionate, vibrant woman, Jessi Clayton. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “It’s not the shame I’m worried about. It’s the wanting you that’s giving me fits.”

  He squeezed her behind and grinned. “Maybe it’ll go away.”

  Jessi didn’t think so. Even now, as sated and worn out as she was, the thought of him loving her again rekindled her desire. She dampened it, lest she wind up riding until Joth came home. “I’m going to wash, and this time, by myself, Griffin Blake.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  Jessi wondered when this wanting would stop. Trying to distance herself from the man she’d begun to crave would be next to impossible. When he left, she didn’t want him to take her heart too. But she reminded herself that she was supposed to be embracing Griffin’s light, not talking herself into running in the opposite direction. “Maybe I do need a bit of help with my back.”

  His mustache lifted with pleasure. “Then step over to the tub, and I promise to be good.”

  She leaned over and kissed him softly. “And you are lying, lying, lying.”

  He just grinned.

  This time, they managed to wash without winding up back on the bed. Jessi even got the opportunity to put on her clothes and keep them on. Good thing, too, because when she left the bedroom to head to the kitchen, she found a note on the table. It read: Back in a while. Preacher.

  When Griffin read the note, he smiled. “
It’s good to know he’s here.”

  He took a seat at the kitchen table and fed himself on the potatoes and bacon she’d heaped on a plate for him.

  “Why do you think he left?”

  “He probably realized we were a mite too busy to entertain guests.”

  Jessi’s eyes widened. “Do you think he heard us?”

  Griff chuckled at the look on her face. “Probably, but he only heard you, not me. Folks probably heard you in Denver.”

  She swatted him on the arm. “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m just telling you the truth,” he said, and ducked away from another swat. “You are one loud woman, Jessi Rose Clayton.”

  “Be serious. How am I ever going to face him?”

  He pulled her down onto his lap. “He’s a grown man, Jessi, and he knows what grown men and women do.”

  “I’m still going to be embarrassed!”

  “Well, don’t be. He’s a preacher and a gentleman. He’d never tell anyone something so private. Now, the Twins, on the other hand—”

  She understood. “No need to say more.”

  They shared a smile.

  He then asked, “Did you enjoy your holiday this morning?”

  “I did. It was a day of firsts.”

  “Well, the day isn’t over.”

  “No?” she asked, her eyes filled with mischief.

  “Not at all.”

  The Preacher knocked at the door later that afternoon and Jessi let him in. Luckily, he hadn’t arrived in the middle of Griffin seducing her out of her clothes, because she was already embarrassed enough. “You must be the Preacher. My name’s Jessi Clayton.”

  He was dressed in black, propped his big gun by the door and looked around. “Pleased to meet you. Looking for Griffin Blake. Is he still here?”

  “Yes, have a seat. I’ll get him.”

  But Griffin was already on his way into the kitchen, and seeing his old friend made him smile. The two men grabbed each other in a manly hug, spent a few minutes smiling and laughing, then Griffin took a seat at the kitchen table as well.

  The Preacher was an average-looking man of average height, with light brown skin. His eyes were arresting, however: green as grass and seemingly lit with an unearthly light.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked Griffin.

  Griffin told him everything, and just as he’d done with the Twins, he began at the beginning, with Darcy’s land grab and the murder of Dexter Clayton, then brought him up to the present by ending with the events of the last few days. “I’m glad you got my wire and came so quickly.”

  “What wire?” Preacher asked, puzzled. “I never received a wire. I’m on my way back from Mexico. Stopped in Austin. Rosita told me you were here and I thought I’d stop by on my way up to Denver and say hello.”

  “Oh,” was all Griffin could say.

  “Rosita said the Twins were on their way here too. They arrived yet?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Are they still mad?”

  “I think so. Neil is, at least.”

  “They know what I do for a living.”

  “That they do.”

  The Preacher then looked over at Jessi. “So this Darcy is making your life uneasy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess I can stay around for a few weeks or so,” he said. “Shouldn’t take any longer than that. What do you think, Griffin? Between me, you, and the Twins, we should be able to do this in a short time?”

  “I’m not sure. We have to do this by the law.”

  “Why?”

  Griff told him about the job he’d agreed to do for Judge Parker and Dixon Wildhorse.

  “Is that how you got out of the penitentiary?”

  “Yep, and they made me a deputy marshal to boot.”

  The Preacher’s green eyes widened. “They made you a deputy marshal?”

  Griffin grinned. “And gave me the power to appoint some help if I need it. Do you want to wear a star while you’re here?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I’ll give you yours when I give the Twins theirs.”

  Jessi and the Preacher stared.

  Jessi asked, “You’re going to make the Twins deputies?”

  “Sure. It’s no more far-fetched than me being one.”

  Jessi had only met the Twins briefly but knew that it was far more far-fetched. The Preacher didn’t respond but he smiled and solemnly shook his head.

  Like the Twins, the Preacher decided to head to town. He too wanted to sample the wind and find a room. After Jessi gave him the names of a few boardinghouses he might try, he tipped his black hat to her, shook Griffin’s hand in good-bye and rode off.

  “Well,” Jessi said as they watched him ride off, “so that’s the Preacher. He seems a bit more serious than Neil and his brother.”

  “I’ve known prairie dogs more serious than those two, but there’s nobody better to guard your back. Now that all my pieces are here, we can play a little chess. We have a king, me. A queen, you. A bishop, the Preacher, and two jokers posing as knights. Not bad.”

  Jessi smiled at her champion king. “Not bad at all.”

  Chapter 8

  After the Preacher’s departure, Jessi and Griffin spent the rest of the day making love, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. By the time dusk rolled in, he knew that Jessi’s favorite food was ice cream and she knew that he had a real fondness for blueberry pie. He learned that she loved the color green; she learned he’d been kicked out of the church youth choir at age fourteen after being caught kissing the deacon’s daughter.

  “Really?” Jessi asked, laughing.

  “Really.”

  They were out on the porch enjoying the night’s descent Jessi was seated atop his lap.

  “So you’ve always had this fondness for women?”

  “Can’t deny it.”

  Jessi wanted to ask him about this Rosita she’d been hearing about for the past two days but didn’t have the nerve, mainly because she had no claims on him and therefore no right to pry. “I enjoyed my holiday, Griffin.”

  And she had. As she’d noted earlier, it had been a day for firsts and she wouldn’ve missed it for the world. “It was far more fun than doing the wash.”

  “Told you so.”

  She reached up and lovingly cupped his strong jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He turned her palms to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the palm. “You’re welcome.”

  “Now, can I do the wash in the morning?”

  He kissed her softly. “Yes, you may.”

  The next morning she was up drawing water when Griffin stepped onto the back porch. It was at least an hour before dawn, but she already had two cauldrons heating on the fire in the pit out in the yard.

  “Morning, Jessi.”

  “Morning, Griff, did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. How about you?”

  “Just fine. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No, but I wish you had. I had plans for you this morning.”

  Jessi grinned. “I would’ve liked that, but this is an all-day chore, even when Joth’s here to help. With him gone, it’s going to take even longer.”

  She walked over to the heating cauldrons and held her hand above them to gauge the water’s temperature. “So, the sooner I get done, the sooner I get to enjoy your company. Are you going into town to check on your friends?”

  “Nope. Staying here and helping you with the wash. The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can play.”

  “That isn’t necessary you know.”

  “It’s purely selfish.”

  She smiled. “Well, grab the coffee and I’ll meet you on the roof in a few minutes. We’ll take in the sunrise and then get right to work.”

  As Jessi had predicted, the work took up a large portion of the day. There were sheets, denims, towels, and pillow slips. There was lye, hot water, and Texas heat. Standing over the large tin washboard, Jessi scrubbed the clothe
s and wiped at the sweat pouring down her neck. She had on her oldest blouse and skirt. Her few pieces of underthings were in the wash, so she had nothing on beneath. As a consequence, the blouse, wet from all the water and heat, clung to her skin, outlining her bare breasts perfectly. The bareness helped, though; if she were fully dressed, she’d’ve melted like her beloved ice cream.

  Griffin found the sight stimulating. The old blouse had lost a few buttons in its time, and every time she bent over the washboard it added even more spice to the tempting display. As he helped her hang the items on the ropes that ran from the house to a pole in the yard, he feasted his eyes, and doubted he’d ever had this much fun on a washday.

  But his glee was a tempered as the day went on and he saw how weary she’d become. Though she didn’t complain, he knew her shoulders were aching from bending over the washboard, and her arms were tired as well. Her eyes were red from the lye fumes and he suddenly regretted keeping her up so late last night. Until this day, he’d never really thought about what a woman might have to do after he left her bed. Seeing Jessi made him decide to be more aware of that in the future.

  At last they were done. Having pinned up the last piece of wash, Jessi came out from between the lines of flowing clothes to find Griffin pumping more water into the cauldrons. She called out, “We’re done, Griffin. We don’t need any more water.”

  He continued pumping.

  As she approached, he lifted the now full container, placed it on the restoked fire, and began to fill another. “I don’t know about you, but I need a bath,” he told her.

  “We had a bath yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And, I usually wait until nightfall and wash out here at the pump after washday.”

  “Why?”