“See what you do to me?” he said huskily, then his hand burrowed into her hair and tilted her head, and his mouth was on hers again, setting her on fire. She wrapped her arm around his waist and savored the burn, the subtle taste of chocolate and whiskey. His lips dragged over her face, her eyelids. “God, I want you . . . so much.”
She swept her thumb back and forth across the smooth tip of him, feeling his moisture. The scent of sex rose between them. He leaned back and tugged the tie at the robe’s front. “This has been driving me nuts,” he said roughly. “Worse than that black lace bra.”
The robe easily came undone. His hands came inside it and his arms encircled her body. She could feel the warmth of him, skin to skin, feel a fine tremble in his body. He removed himself from her hand. “You’d better stop. Or this’ll be over before it starts. Come on.” He stepped out of the sweatpants and looped an arm around her shoulders. She slid her arm around his back. This wasn’t what she expected on this dark and stormy night, but she had no objection. Without a word, they walked to his bedroom.
The bedroom was only dimly lit by the living room light spilling through the doorway. At the edge of the rumpled bed, he kissed her again. Her eyes drifted shut as one strong hand cupped her nape, the other her bare bottom. His tongue urgently explored her mouth, savagely delved in and out in a sensual rhythm. Desperate need began to build inside her. Then both of his hands were on her bottom, kneading, and he had anchored her to him, pelvis to pelvis, and hot blood was raging through her veins like fire. Instinctively she moved herself against his erection. “Brady . . .”
A low hum came from his throat and he became more aggressive, nipping and teasing her lips, his tongue dancing with hers. The robe slid off her shoulders and hit the floor soundlessly. She felt his big strong hands on her thighs beneath her bottom. He lifted her off her feet and eased her back on the bed, at the same time parting her thighs. The room wasn’t so dark that she couldn’t see the crown of his jutting penis peeking from beneath his shirttail. Filled with sweet anticipation, she lay shamelessly sprawled before his eyes.
He leaned away from her for a few seconds, and dug a familiar-looking black box out of his bedside table drawer. She watched, fascinated, as he rolled a condom onto his swollen length. She felt dreamy and feverish, as if this weren’t quite happening, but she knew from the hours she had spent in bed with him before, every inch of him was real.
Then he was over her, braced on one hand. The other slid between them and his fingers played in her pubic hair, stroked her sex. The deep muscles inside her began to clench. “Brady, please,” she murmured.
“Please what?” He lowered his head and kissed her, licked into her mouth while his fingers gently parted her drenched folds and stroked and teased.
“You know,” she murmured. “Touch me . . .”
“Here?” He worked his fingers up into her slick emptiness.
But his fingers weren’t enough. “Yes, but . . .”
“Lift your knees,” he said softly. She obeyed. His fingers left her and she felt the wide tip of him push into her, felt her flesh stretch around the thick head of him. “Oh,” she said on a sigh. He stopped. Even in the dim light she could see his face fierce with passion. For her. A thrill coursed through her. “Okay?” he said huskily.
“Yes,” she breathed, lifting herself to him for more.
As much as she wanted all of him, a little gasp escaped when he pushed all the way in. He felt so hot, and impossibly hard. The pressure of his thickness sent utter pleasure skittering through her.
His eyes opened and their gazes locked as he began moving inside her. So slow. Too slow. “You feel so good,” she whispered.
“So good,” he echoed. “So sweet.” His head lowered and his mouth took hers again in an all-or-nothing kiss. And she gave and gave. All that she was. She was his, forever.
The slow, steady rhythm was agonizing and delicious and wonderful, but that strange need took over her mind and taunted her in the far reaches, and all she could think of was letting it break out. “Brady, please . . .” She hugged his hips with her thighs and tried to urge him to move faster.
“More?”
“Yes.”
His tempo picked up. His thick penis thrust into her deeply, heat and friction building a coil of desire low in her belly. Her hips hitched. She began to pant. His chest heaved, his breath gusted. A rough growl rumbled from his throat. His arms hooked behind her knees and he pushed them high and wide, pinning her. He braced himself on his hands and drove deeper, the root of him rasping there where she wanted it. “Oh, don’t stop.”
“Is that a good spot?”
She began to spasm. “Please don’t stop.” He didn’t, not until pleasure tore through her in waves. A sob crawled up her throat and became an outcry. He bucked hard, and her name burst from his mouth as he climaxed.
Then it was over and he was lying on top of her. They both gasped for breath, and neither of them was entirely on the bed. She lay beneath him, sprawled and boneless, her palms open beside her head. She wanted him to stay inside her forever. “Wow,” she said. “Foreplay must not be all it’s cracked up to be.”
He lifted his head and smiled weakly. “I was just so friggin’ horny. Foreplay comes next.”
23
Brady stayed where he was for a long time, buried in Jude’s sweet warmth. Foreplay. Oh, man, he had been too hot for lengthy foreplay. When he had walked into the kitchen and seen her in his robe, he just knew she was wearing nothing underneath it. There had been more he wanted to say, but all he could think about was her lush body beneath him, his cock buried to the hilt. If he admitted the truth to himself, that’s all he had thought about since they spent the night together in Stephenville two months ago.
His strength gradually returned. Foreplay. He might be lousy at conversation, but foreplay he could do. He rose above her, pinned her wrists beside her head and looked down at her. Even in the room’s poor light, he could see her nipples still peaked and dark. He ducked his head and licked them. She moaned softly, and the sound shot straight to his groin. But he was more in control of himself now, so he took his time teasing and circling her nipples with his tongue. Her vaginal muscles flexed against his penis. “You’ll make me hard again.”
She laughed softly, and her muscles flexed again. She squirmed against him.
He, too, gave a soft laugh. “You’re ornery.” He pulled out of her, instantly missing her tight warmth.
“Oh, don’t,” she said.
“Shh . . . You wanted foreplay.” His mouth moved down her middle, flicking with his tongue and nipping her soft skin with his teeth. He felt her strain against his hands as he smoothed his mouth over her silky body’s peaks and valleys. Her scent filled his nostrils and he felt a stir in his belly again, but he told his head to ignore it.
Her back arched. “Brady . . .”
“Hmm?” He released one wrist and slipped two fingers into her as far as they would reach, found her creamy and slick. While he licked her belly, he drew out her moisture and languidly opened her and stroked every sweet, wet petal. Her free hand gripped his biceps and she made sweet little sounds. “Good?” he whispered against her springy woman’s hair, burying his nose in her scent and working his fingers inside her.
“Brady . . .”
She was moving restlessly. He quickly pulled out his fingers and slid to the floor on his knees. At the same time he gripped her hips and pulled her with him. He parted the swollen lips of her sex with his thumbs and slid the tip of his tongue into her. She gasped and her hips lifted. And no wonder. Her clit was so firm it was easy to feel with his tongue. He pulled back. Her knees fell wide, opening herself for him. “Oh, don’t stop,” she whimpered, her hands clasping his head. “Please. Make me—”
“Not yet,” he murmured against her slick layers. He took his time. He licked deeply, tasted profusely, avoided giving her what she wanted, while he worked his fingers inside her. Her hips began to pump, she panted a
nd whimpered and when he believed she’d had enough, he drew her hard little clit into his mouth and sucked her as if he were a hungry babe. Her hips came off the bed and she screamed. He held her in place and didn’t stop until she came and came and came. Her hands clutched his head and hair and pulled him up her body until his mouth reached hers. She was crying, but she devoured his mouth, wildly licking her own taste from his lips and tongue. “Come inside me,” she begged. “Please come inside me. I need you inside me.”
“I can’t, darlin’.” He kissed her hard and fast. “I don’t have another rubber.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.” He kissed her again, giving her his tongue and taking hers. When he felt her begin to calm, he lifted his mouth from hers.
She gasped a great breath, released her grip on his head and flopped her arms against the bed. “Wow,” she said.
He chuckled against her neck. He loved giving her pleasure. He got to his feet, heaving a great breath. He pulled her off the bed and up beside him, then turned back the bedspread. “Get under the covers,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He padded to the bathroom, disposed of the rubber and washed himself. He hated rubbers. Married sex had spoiled him. He didn’t know if he would ever learn to like making love wearing latex. Fucking was one thing, and it called for latex, but making love called for flesh-to-flesh contact.
On his way back to the bedroom, he detoured by the living room and switched off the light, then returned to the bedroom, stripped off his shirt and tossed it, and crawled in bed beside her. “We’ve gotta get some sleep,” he said, and gathered her into his arms.
“I know.” She wiggled against him until she found a comfortable place.
He was exhausted, and she had to be, too. He was already drifting into sleep when he thought of something. “Jude? You thought I was sleeping with Joyce Harrison?”
“Just gossip.”
“I haven’t been with anybody, Jude. Only you.”
“Me, neither. But you already know that.” He heard her sigh. “I’m an open book.”
He smiled.
Brady awoke at four thirty. Of course he had to because breakfast was served in the cookhouse at four forty-five. Jude awoke long enough to kiss him good-bye. He told her he would return after daylight to check on the bulls and deal with the pickup and trailer. Indeed, he had made good on his promise of foreplay. Jude wrapped her arms around his pillow and went back to sleep.
But she was up by six o’clock, smiling and even humming. And noticing a few new sensitive places. She had never even imagined sex could be like it was with Brady. It just proved that when the choice was up to her, when Daddy and Grandpa stayed out of her love life, she did much better on her own. How had she lived without a true loving man for so many years? And why had she?
She slipped into Brady’s robe again and padded to the kitchen.
She switched on the radio on top of the old refrigerator and turned up the volume. Country-western music twanged into the room. Honky-tonk music, Suzanne called it. Jude had been in honky-tonks only a few times, always with Suzanne. She moved through a couple of dance steps Brady had taught her as she put water on to make more hot chocolate.
While she waited for the water to boil, she gazed through the kitchen window. With diamondlike brilliance, sunlight glistened off the outbuildings’ metal roofs and the moisture on the blades of grass. Summer had returned. This was West Texas at its best, alive and glowing just after a thirst-quenching rain.
She had difficulty imagining the crisis that had beleaguered her only a few hours earlier. This morning, the sky was breathtakingly blue. As blue as Brady Fallon’s eyes. She was in awe of the order of things. A month ago, she would have said his eyes were as blue as the sky, but today, in her mind, she saw Brady first. And she saw his square jaw and lean cheeks and the half smile that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle and dance with a hint of his dry sense of humor.
She touched her jeans and shirt and underwear, which had been left hanging over the backs of two kitchen chairs. They were dry but looked as if they had been trampled by the bulls. Fortunately, with Daddy being in Amarillo, he wouldn’t see her when she went home and wonder where she had spent the night. Clumps of mud covered her custom-made boots. They had been soaked from sole to shaft and smelled of wet leather. They would take days to dry out and were probably ruined. She sighed. She liked those boots.
She helped herself to the shower, one of those fiberglass units that had been installed well after the construction of the house. She brushed her teeth with her finger and Brady’s toothpaste, used his he-man deodorant and borrowed his brush and comb. She even found some fragrant cream to rub on her face and body. It smelled woodsy, like him. She kept smiling like a loon as she rubbed some everywhere and relished the idea of being enveloped by his scent all day.
Back in the kitchen, she was dumping a packet of instant hot chocolate into a mug when the warble of a phone surprised her. She didn’t know he’d had a landline installed. She looked at it on the far end of the counter. She almost answered it but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, she poured hot water into the mug and waited for the answering machine to pick up. A woman’s voice left a message.
“Brady, honey, this is me. I woke up wanting to talk to you. I’m so grateful for the time we had Sunday evening. It meant more to me than I can ever tell you. I’ve made so many mistakes, Brady, and I don’t want to make another. You were right in that Andy loves you so much and he needs you. I know Jarrett isn’t your son, but he loves you and needs you, too. Just want to let you know I’m trying to arrange a trip over there. I’m eager to see your aunt’s old house. As smart as you are, I’m sure you’ll be able to turn it into a mansion. I don’t want to interfere with your job, so just let me know when your days off are so we’ll be able to spend some time together and work out some things when I come. I’ll call you tonight, honey, and we can talk some more. Or if you want to call me, you have my number.”
Click!
Jude set the hot pan on the stove, her mind a blank.
Honey? . . . Time we had Sunday evening . . . Work out some things when I come?
As she listened to the message a second time, thought came charging back, bringing the certain knowledge that this was the voice of Brady’s ex-wife. But what did this call mean? Were they in the middle of a reconciliation? Other than knowing he went to Fort Worth to visit his son, Jude knew little else about his relationship with his son or his ex-wife. Of course he was devoted to his son. Otherwise he wouldn’t drive all the way to Fort Worth so often to see him.
Jude’s stomach began to churn. She crossed her arms and gripped her elbows to stop it, but the sick feeling didn’t go away. She must be hungry, she thought. She opened the refrigerator but saw nothing but a package of bologna, a package of sliced cheese, a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. She slammed the refrigerator door and started pacing, trying to put two logical thoughts together.
Brady was a decent man. If he had been planning to reconcile with his ex-wife, surely he wouldn’t have had sex with her last night. And he had said things—loving things—as if he cared about her. Had he been lying to her? She could hardly stand to think of him with someone else the way he had been with her last night.
An overwhelming desire to get out of this house overcame her, a desire to go home, to bury herself in familiar and safe surroundings. He had told her to wait for him until he found a chance to come back, but who knew when that would be? All sorts of mishaps and unplanned events could occur at the Circle C. What she had to do was check to see if Spike or Charlie Brown was hurt, then get her pickup and trailer home.
But as she began to get ready to leave, a new dilemma plagued her. If she called on anyone at the ranch to come get her and her pickup, she would have to explain why she was at the new general manager’s house in the early morning in filthy, wrinkled clothing. She reiterated her vow to never again get caught up in a web of lies,
however petty they originally seemed.
A new Abilene phone book lay on the counter by the phone. She thumbed to the yellow pages and found the tow-truck listings. The dispatcher at the first number told her he would have a truck on the scene in an hour and a half. It was nice when a company needed work enough to provide real customer service. Throwing out her last name had done no harm, either. The Circle C owned a virtual fleet of pickups, trucks and trailers, and sundry other equipment. Once back at the ranch, she could find some kind of rig and return to pick up the bulls without having to explain anything. Brady might return before the tow truck arrived; then again, maybe not.
She pulled on her wet boots, donned her wrinkled clothing and tramped through the mud and sunshine to the soggy pasture behind the barn. Unlike most of the Circle C’s bulls, Spike and Charlie Brown were gentle and used to people. They gave her no trouble as she examined their hooves and legs. They had a few scrapes, but nothing that wouldn’t heal. Still, she would ask Doc Barrett to look at them.
She went outside to wait for her rescuer. But it wasn’t Brady Fallon she waited for. Her knight in shining armor this morning was a tow truck from Abilene.
It was midmorning, and to Brady’s annoyance, he hadn’t been able to get back to his house, nor had he had a chance to arrange to have the bulls hauled. He had gotten tied up in the vet barn behind the clinic, assisting Doc Barrett and Clary Harper. The peak horse-breeding season was coming to an end, and they were in the middle of teasing a stallion, set to collect semen. He had learned that with having an office so near to the ranch’s veterinary operations, he often was called on to help the doc or Clary. He didn’t mind. He was learning more about horse breeding and AI than he had ever expected to know, though he was having difficulty concentrating this morning. Because he and Jude had been awake all night, he was tired.
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