On His Honor

by Jean Brashear

  He raised his hand as though he was voting.

  She chuckled. “I like you, and back at the pool, I thought we were both very interested in each other. Was I wrong?”

  It was so much more complicated than that, but there was no possible way for him to explain, so he went with the simplest, most basic answer. “Absolutely not.”

  “So maybe we could just spend a little time enjoying ourselves and not thinking?” Her sideways glance was full of mischief.

  “Thinking is overrated.” Which was God’s honest truth.

  She smiled and tightened her arms around his neck.

  Then kissed his socks off.

  He scooped her up in his arms and headed for the stairs. She focused on driving him out of his mind.

  When he stumbled crossing the entryway, he leaned his head away from the temptation she presented, even though his libido whimpered for him to give in. “You have to stop that,” he ordered as she nibbled her way over his jaw. “I’m only going to give you another hour of my time. Or two.” He tried to focus on negotiating the stairs.

  Then she slicked her tongue down his neck. “Okay, okay, a week, but that’s my final offer.” She chuckled softly, blowing warm air across his skin.

  Sweet heaven above, his eyes all but rolled back in his head.

  With grim determination and more than a few missteps that had his heart doing double-time in fear they’d wind up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, he somehow made it up both flights. Why in the hell had the master bedroom been put all the way at the back?

  Violet’s hand slid inside the collar of his shirt and her fingers walked their way across his bare skin.

  The upstairs hallway took an hour to cross, he would swear.

  When he finally got them inside his bedroom, she lifted her head and began to look around.

  “No.” He tossed her on the mattress. “Don’t start talking to me about woodwork.”

  She giggled. Glanced upward. “But the ceiling is—”

  He planted his arms on either side of her head, his body hovering over hers. “No ceiling. No floors. No glass.”

  A smile danced over those lips before she licked them, slow and sultry. “That’s okay. I like what I’m looking at better.” She began to unbutton his shirt, spreading the panels wide. “Much…much…better.” She began a provocative survey of his chest, stroking his pecs, drifting down his belly, tracing a lazy line along the waist of his jeans… .

  “Mercy,” he murmured.

  “No mercy here.” She challenged him with knowing eyes.

  He leaned back on his knees and grabbed her hands. “Uh-uh. My turn.” He spread her arms wide and took his time looking. “Your beauty staggers me.”

  “Thanks.” Her tone said she’d heard that a million times.

  “But I’m more intrigued by what’s beneath this gorgeous exterior. I want to know the real you.”

  To his astonishment, the light in her dimmed.

  What had he said? Shouldn’t she be pleased that he wasn’t focused on her as a star?

  Maybe there’s something in me, some ingrained failing.

  She actually thought her husband’s adultery was her fault? That it was due to some flaw in her? For a stunned second he said nothing. Could she possibly believe she was unlovable?

  Would anyone ever imagine that America’s Sweetheart, adored by millions, didn’t understand that the pure, amazing person she really was shone from her like a beacon? Was the reason everyone worshiped her?

  As his silence mounted, she yanked her arms down and began to roll to the edge of the bed.

  He stirred from his reverie and caught her. Tucked her into his arms and cradled her. “Hey…talk to me.” He went with his gut and hoped to hell he wouldn’t make things worse, however astounding it was to think that he could. “Is this about you believing you have some fatal flaw?” When she didn’t speak, he settled back against the footboard, holding her on his lap. “Because that’s just crazy.”

  She shoved away his arms. Scooted all the way across the bed and pressed herself against the headboard, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Her eyes blazed. “It’s not your concern. I don’t need any coddling.” She uncoiled and made her way to the edge of the mattress. “And I sure don’t need your pity. I am sick to death of people feeling sorry for me.” She jumped to her feet and prepared to leave.

  He lunged and caught her, turned her around not at all gently. “You honestly believe I see you as pathetic? Were you not listening when I told you that I think you’re amazing? You’re funny and kind and damned normal for someone in your situation.” His voice vibrated with barely contained fury, though it was directed squarely at himself, at the situation.

  “So why are you angry?”

  “I’m not.”

  One imperious eyebrow arched. “You are.” She paused. “Perhaps I should go.”

  He hated this. Despised knowing that he couldn’t have an honest conversation about how he felt about her, that he had no choice but to continue to deceive her until VICTAF could get what it needed on Avery Lofton and be sure exactly how involved he was.

  And if she ever found out, his betrayal would make a lie of every reassurance he’d just uttered. Would make her only more convinced that so-called flaw was real, that no one could love her simply for who she was.

  This case could not be over soon enough.

  He had little control over the situation he was in, but there were a few things he could do. One was to quit focusing on what he couldn’t change—and do something about what he could.

  He could salvage this day. At least he hoped he could.

  “The anger is for me. I’m supposed to be showing you a good time, and I’m blowing it.” He extended a hand. “If you’re willing to give me a second chance, may I show you the rest of the house?”

  After what seemed like a year, she put her hand in his. Met his gaze. “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m trying to put the past behind me, but I’m not there yet. And I’ve made things awkward when all you were trying to do was be nice.”

  God, could he feel any worse?

  “I think you’re managing a lousy situation with a lot of grace. Does anyone in your life understand the true cost of your success?”

  She cast him a grateful glance, if a cautious one. “It’s not exactly a hardship to make a lot of money doing something you love.”

  “Maybe not.” A predicament he’d likely never experience. “But it’s not that simple, either, is it?”

  “Nobody held a gun to my head and forced me to become famous. I asked for this.”

  “But nobody prepared you for it, either, did they?”

  She shook her head sadly.

  “I’d like to be your friend, Violet.” He hoped she could tell he meant it. “Not the actress but Violet from Nowhere, Tennessee.”

  “Elizabethton, I beg your pardon.” Her lips curved a little. “I’d like that, too.”

  He breathed an inner sigh of relief as the atmosphere between them lightened. He drew her through the doorway out of the bedroom. Humor had eased her before; maybe it would again. “So if I let you ogle my claw-foot tub, what are my chances of getting you naked later?”

  Violet snickered as she preceded him down the hallway.

  But he was pretty sure he heard her say not bad.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE CLAW-FOOT TUB WAS INDEED gorgeous, especially in a room with bead board on the walls—however many coats of paint covered it—and a lovely stained-glass window. With a crack, yes, but the deep purple, golden-throated irises and the white dove set a scene she could easily imagine sighing over as she stretched out in that tub. As she felt knotted muscles untangle inch by inch while steamy wate
r soothed her skin and lapped at the curve of her breasts…as JD slowly trailed his fingers up her legs and—

  “Does that smile mean you like it?”

  Violet whirled too quickly and overset herself.

  As he had been so many times before, JD was there to steady her. Tenderly he stroked a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His eyes were a smoky seduction, all by themselves. Idly she noticed a bump on the bridge of his nose and reached up to caress it. “How did you break it?”

  “Brothers tend to fight.” His gaze was zeroed in on her, too, though he held himself still. Letting her choose what would happen next.

  She traced the line of his nose, the plane of one chiseled cheekbone. Curved a trail back over his jaw then, fingertip by fingertip, her hand walked toward his chin. She brushed the pads of three fingers over his skin, then stroked downward, skimming his Adam’s apple to land in the hollow of his throat.

  And this big, strong man…shivered.

  She returned her gaze to his for a long, somber moment. Words died, but her nerve endings thrummed to life with his nearness, with the desire that was a throbbing presence between them.

  Violet lifted herself to her toes, but even as she brought her lips to that dip above his collarbone where she could see his pulse bump up, she wondered if JD realized that what attracted her far more than his beautiful exterior was his goodness.

  He played at boyish charm, at devil-may-care insouciance…but within this man, she thought, was someone who took his word seriously. Who would never cause harm if he could help it, who would think of others first.

  A protector. A champion. A hero, however he might protest.

  His looks would change over time. Age would have its way. But the man he was at his core…that was rock solid.

  She’d settled on her heels, but now she rose again to slip her fingers into the rich pelt of his hair. She pressed her body to his body and wondered if the uneven thudding she felt was his heart…or hers.

  Might be both.

  “I was going to show you the downstairs,” he murmured.

  “Later.”

  “Violet, maybe we should—”

  She nipped at his ear and felt his whole body quiver. “Don’t you want me, JD?” she murmured. “Have I ruined it?”

  “Of course I want you, but—”

  She slid her tongue into the heat of his mouth.

  And JD’s iron control broke. He gathered her closer and slanted his mouth to take more of her. Without ever lifting his lips from hers, he bent and scooped her up, then walked out the door. “Should we go somewhere else?” he asked as they neared his bedroom.

  A clean slate? she suspected he was suggesting.

  “Uh-uh,” she said against his mouth. “It’s a good bed. A big bed.” In fact it was a massive, gorgeous four-poster in some golden wood that looked like it could sleep six people.

  He smiled but didn’t stop kissing her. “Room to roll around.” He revolved and fell back on the mattress, still holding her. Then he proceeded to do just that—logroll them to the opposite corner, then back again.

  She was breathless with laughter by the time they stopped.

  Could he possibly understand the allure of his willingness to be foolish? In her world, appearance was everything, followed closely by an outsized sense of dignity, by the need to be taken seriously, to be respected…or, at a minimum, to be feared. Glamour might seem to be the game in Hollywood, but power was the real aphrodisiac, the gold standard by which everyone judged or was judged.

  Lying on his back, JD spread his hands across her pelvis and lifted her into the air the way her father had done when she was a child. She held her body in a plank, astonished at his strength.

  Then he lowered her, inch by inch, her hair hanging down between them, a tangled black curtain sealing them off from the world…until her body was lined up on his, belly to belly, breast to chest…loins to loins.

  She didn’t even try to stem the urge to bring her softest spot against his hardest one.

  “Unh…” His was a heartfelt groan.

  It was all she could manage not to echo him. Instead, she planted her arms on either side of his chest and straddled him, her skirt shifting upward, baring her thighs as she rubbed herself over him and wished for more.

  “Violet…” His plea was a harsh whisper, an urgent demand.

  “We’re attracted to each other, JD. You make me happy, and you want me. I want you. Let’s not make it more complicated than that.” She lifted her arms and caught up her hair as her body reveled in the feel of him. She lowered over him, undulating against his groin and ratcheting up the torment, teasing them both to a nearly unbearable degree. Through her lashes she watched him, watched the hunger drawing his skin tight over his cheekbones. His fingers flexed at his sides, grasping thin air as though he longed to be grasping her flesh.

  But still he held back. Was strong enough, kind enough to let her set the pace.

  She let the moment spin out until within her desire wound tighter and tighter, nearing the breaking point—

  At last she released her hair and let it spill out in all its glory. Slid her hands beneath his shirt, her nails dragging over his chest until his belly was bared, revealing golden muscles lightly dusted with hair.

  When her lips touched his skin and her tongue dipped into his navel—

  JD gasped. Grabbed her. Flipped her over.

  Rising above her, he tore off his shirt and quickly untied her halter top, then drew it down slowly, teasing her already-peaked nipples. He fanned the fever, swirling his tongue over one crest, humming a low laugh as she squirmed beneath him. His big hands grazed her thighs, driving the skirt higher and higher until his fingers found her panties. Slid beneath the silk.

  Made her back arch. Made her moan.

  Then his mouth replaced his fingers, and she cried out.

  Desperation had her pleading. “Don’t go slow, JD. Not now.”

  His chuckle was low and throaty. “The claw-foot tub might not work its magic next time. I’m not wasting this one.” His words were a tease, but his voice was rough. His eyes dark as pitch.

  She laughed softly. “If I promise?”

  He was doing unspeakably carnal things to her flesh, so many sensations at once that her brain gave up trying to sort them out. Pleasure rolled through her in swells, dragging her into the undertow where she couldn’t think, couldn’t see… .

  All she could do was fly. Shatter.

  “JD…” she sighed sometime later, pliant as candle wax.

  “I’m here.” He rose to her, kissed her again. She tasted herself on his lips. Then his big, warm body was covering her, shielding her…

  But she felt the tension in his body, the steely, wire-tight draw of a man holding back a savage hunger.

  She lifted slumberous eyelids to meet his gaze, hot as the fires of hell and dancing on the edge of control. “I want you.”

  His smile was strained. “In a minute. Hold on, honey.” It was all she could do not to shriek in protest as he rose from her and leaned across to fish in a drawer for protection, but she was grateful for his care. The shift proved just enough to bring her back from that bliss-filled languor of repletion, to recover her wits the tiniest bit. As he returned to her, she smiled, slow and wicked. “Oh, please…let me.” She took the condom from his hand and nudged him onto his back. Then she bent to him and proceeded to apply it with her mouth.

  “Sweet mother of—” His swift intake of air was quickly drowned by a groan as she cupped the family jewels in her hand and slicked around them with her tongue.

  “Okay, that’s it.” In one quick blur of strength, he had her on her back again. And thrust inside in one powerful stroke.

  She
sighed. He groaned.

  They both smiled, a smile Violet felt to her toes.

  “Hold on, sugar. This ride is gonna be intense,” he warned. And made good on his word.

  It was all heat and speed and need after that, but no matter how Violet tried every wile she’d ever learned to make him break, JD would not let go first. Her second climax took her by storm, one minute dancing just beyond her reach, the next sweeping over her like a fireball.

  Barely, only barely, he waited until she started up the next peak, hovering on the edge of a scream—

  Then, at long last, he cut the reins of his control and followed her, pitching her back over the edge one more heart-stopping, soul-restoring, unbelievably beautiful time.

  * * *

  "I CAN'T FEEL MY FINGERS," he murmured into her breasts, where his head lay pillowed.

  She picked up his hand and sucked the index finger into her mouth.

  “Okay, that’s one. One finger is enough for most activities, right?”

  Her abdomen bounced with her chuckle. She exchanged that finger for the next one.

  “Two. Even better.” He didn’t know why he kept up a patter at a time like this.

  Except he did. He’d just had the most astonishing orgasm of his life, and oh, hell, yeah, every straight guy on earth would kill to trade places with him. Of course they would. She was not only phenomenal to look at, but making love with her was off the chain.

  But that wasn’t his problem. That wasn’t what had his brain running around like shell-shocked hamsters, had him feeling the urge to leap up—assuming he could actually move—and run as far and fast as he could away from her.

  Oh, no. What had him spooked, had him core-deep petrified, was something different altogether.

  He’d been with Violet the movie star, yes, but he could deal with who she was to the world by ignoring it. That was manageable as long as she was here in Austin, hiding out where almost no one knew where to find her. Where she could be herself.