"Why would you think that?"
As he walked past her, she caught a whiff of his shampoo and soap. The scent zoomed straight to her primal center.
Following him into the kitchen, even with several feet between them, she sensed that he, too, was drawn tight as a drum.
She glanced at the half-full coffeepot. Conversations over coffee seemed to have a better outcome. "There's coffee," she said.
"I don't need any more. I've already drunk a gallon." He removed his hat and set it on the table.
Okay, she could do this without coffee. She stopped beside the counter and faced him. "Tuesday in the barn was a mistake, John. I want you to know I don't blame you. It was my fault. I hope we can put it aside and—"
"Has Ava gone to school?" His green eyes bored into hers.
Her face heated under his direct gaze. "Y—Yes, but—"
"Is that what you want, to set it aside?"
She stood there like a dumbbell, her throat working, but no words came out. To her alarm, her nipples seemed to be growing too tight for her skin.
He came to where she stood. His hands came up and grasped her shoulders. "I want you," he said softly and she could see in his expressive eyes that he meant it. "I always have, even years ago. And I kind of feel like you want me, too."
Tears sprang to her eyes. This wasn't fair. No way was she prepared to deal with this. Her lips trembled. "But, John, we—"
His head bent and he kissed her.
She resisted. For about five seconds. Then, as if her traitorous limbs had minds of their own, her arms went up over his shoulders and around his neck and as if her two hands couldn't touch enough of him, she pressed her body against his. He kissed her more, cradling the back of her head with his hand, giving her his tongue and taking hers. His kisses were so good, his mouth so sweet. She drank him in like a victim dying of thirst.
The room began to spin and the next thing she became aware of was his hands under her sweatshirt, making contact with the bare skin of her back. She hadn't taken the time to put on a bra. He leaned away, his fingers at the knit band at the bottom of her sweatshirt. They stared at each other, him waiting for her to confirm the decision that had, in reality, been made Tuesday in the barn.
Unable to endure the dark intensity in his eyes, she looked at the floor, fighting back tears. Desire, want, need, loneliness—all conspired against her determination to not get involved and make her life even harder. Seconds ticked away.
Oh, hell, wasn't it her turn?
Yes! her slutty side answered.
She pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head and let it drop to the floor.
"Lord," he choked out, staring at her breasts. He crushed her to him and devoured her mouth with another devastating kiss.
She pulled away, ducked her chin and began to work at his shirt buttons. If she didn't look into his eyes, this would be easier. Her fingers fumbled. No wonder. She was standing here half naked with her nipples sticking out like mountain peaks. "You know we shouldn't be doing this. This is not supposed to happen. I know we'll both be sorry."
He grasped her fingers and kissed them. "Let me, darlin'." As he took over undoing his shirt buttons, she clasped his face and kissed him again, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.
Swearing, he gave up on the buttons and wrapped his arms around her, grasped her bottom and brought her pelvis against his erection. Heat she hadn't felt in years sizzled through her veins and she wriggled against the firm shape of him.
His mouth dragged from hers and trailed down her neck. His ragged breath lay hot and moist on her breasts. She could hear her own breath, shallow and shaky. His hand lifted one breast and he pressed his open mouth to the pillow of flesh.
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Oh, John..."
Clutching his hair, she guided him to the swollen nipple that ached for attention. He drew deeply, sucked hard, titillated with his tongue. A maddening tingle began between her thighs. "John... John, do... do you think you should take your coat off?"
"I can't.... I don't want to let you go."
His hands slid beneath the elastic waist of her sweatpants and gripped her bottom, his fingers feeling strong and able pressing into her buttocks. Her pulse throbbed deep in her sex and she thought she might die if he didn't touch her there and relieve the tingle. "John...," she whispered, "...I need... can you..." She put space between them and parted her legs.
His hand came around, pushed between her thighs and began to rub her through her panties. "Is this what you want?"
"Oooh..." she murmured as unadulterated pleasure coursed through her. "Oh, yesss..."
He stopped abruptly. "Shit. I can't stand this."
He shoved both sweatpants and panties past her hips. They fell to her ankles. Yes! her slutty side proclaimed again.
She tried to kick the garments off her feet, but they became ensnared by her slippers. He dropped to one knee and began to free her feet. "Step out," he said gruffly, clasping first one ankle, then the other. She watched him lift her feet from the knot of sweatpants and lacy panties.
As he whisked the clothing aside, his head rose. His eyes leveled on the delta where her legs joined her trunk. She held her breath and her stomach began to shake. He swallowed audibly, stayed deathly still for a few seconds. When she did nothing, he leaned in to her and nuzzled.
His breath riffled across her pubic hair. OhGodohGod. A part of her brain demanding that she stop him struggled to override the other part that wanted this. "John, you shouldn't..."
His hands clasped her hip bones and gently pushed her back against the counter. His open mouth moved over her belly, murmuring, "I've wanted to do this for eighteen years."
She gripped the counter edge and watched as he parted her gently with his thumbs. The first thrust of his tongue brought a gasp and a shudder. She pushed her pelvis forward, giving him everything. He took, lapping and probing and flicking. She clenched her teeth and endured as sensation suspended her in a purple void of desire. On a whimper that was an undeniable plea, she bent her knees, opening herself wider still. Two fingers worked up into her and her vaginal muscles rejoiced.
Then there was nothing but his fingers and his tongue moving in rhythm with each other. Release hung millimeters away. Her head tilted back, little noises escaped her throat. When she thought she would surely die if he didn't help her, if he didn't do something, his mouth gently closed over the sensitive morsel of flesh at the top of her sex and the world exploded. She cried out. Her hips bucked violently. He gripped her buttocks, his hands like a vise, and held her, not missing a beat with his tongue. Pleasure tore through her again and again. When her arms gave away and her knees buckled, he let go and she wilted to the floor whimpering and shaking and clinging to him.
"Oh, God, you're sweet," he whispered and she felt herself being gathered to his chest. He stood up with her in his arms. "Where's your bed?"
"Up the hall," she said in a tiny voice.
She felt weak and helpless as a kitten as he carried her into the dim morning light of her bedroom and laid her on her unmade bed. She grabbed for the sheet, covered herself and stared as he whipped off his coat, then his shirt and T-shirt, his torso appearing inch by inch as each garment fell to the floor.
He dug in his jeans pocket, pulled out packets of condoms and dropped them on her bedside table. For an instant she bristled at his audacity for bringing them, but at the same time she was grateful. She had been off the pill for a long time.
He sank to the edge of the bed and pried off his boots. Her strength returned and when he stood to unbuckle his belt, her slutty side rose to the occasion. She scuttled across the bed and helped him push his jeans and shorts down powerful hairy legs. His erection, as thick and long and eager as she had imagined it would be, jutted from a patch of dark brown curls. "Oooh," she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away. "I knew you'd be beautiful."
"God, Isabelle, just look at me. I've been like this ever since I found out you were back i
n town."
He peeled his jeans and shorts the rest of the way off, crawled under the covers and stretched alongside her. The mattress sank with his weight and his long arms and legs surrounded her. His mouth devoured hers again and she suckled her own taste from his tongue and lips as they caressed each other everywhere with their hands. Little hums came from his throat, little sighs from hers.
It had been so long since she'd had a naked man at her disposal. She stroked him all over—his fuzzy belly, his hairy scrotum, closed her hand around his thick penis, appreciating the tensile strength.
His thigh thrust between hers, pressing upward, hard against her sex, where she felt hot and empty. The need built again and she pulled back, knees bent and open and begging him to come inside.
He released her long enough to snap on a condom, then moved over her. Jaw clenched, he braced on one hand and his hot penis drove into her. He was big and he stretched her, but no part of her wanted to stop. She came again, arching to him, gripping his biceps with her fingertips and gasping openmouthed.
He kissed her savagely again. She was filled with him, overwhelmed by the strength of him, engulfed by the force of him. His arm held her pelvis tight against him and he began to rock, hard and fast, pressuring the crucial point of contact in a steady rhythm. She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and hung on until she began to spasm again and she could feel her deep muscles caressing his hot flesh with little sucking contractions. It was coming again, the overpowering wave. "Oh. Oh. Oh, John."
"Come with me," he choked out. He reared back, slid a hand between them and touched the demanding swollen nubbin inside her sex. One touch was all she needed. Her breath caught. Stars burst inside her head. She clung to him as out-of-control sensation hurled her through space and her every cell focused on the agonizing rapture. She barely heard him groan, barely felt him strain, barely was aware he had stopped moving until he collapsed on top of her.
* * *
"I told you so," Isabelle's slutty side said. Indeed, she had never known anything quite like what had just happened between her and the naked man crossing her bedroom.
She watched as he came to the bed. Only blindness could keep her eyes from feasting on him. He was a gorgeous man, the epitome of male perfection—long everywhere, with well-defined muscles that showed the physical strength that made her feel small and feminine. He had a few scars and a bit of a tan, which made her wonder where and when he had been exposed to the sun without his clothes.
He slid under the covers, wrapped his brawny arms around her and pulled her close to his big body. "Cold in here," he said on a shiver.
A half hour earlier, with the fires of passion raging, neither of them had noticed the room temperature. "I haven't opened the vent in here. It's so hot in Texas. One of the things about Callister I missed was nights made for sleeping under warm blankets."
She snuggled closer to his warm skin, tugging the quilt, hand-sewn by her mother somewhere back in time, up to their chins. She pressed her face against his chest and breathed in the earthy smell of him, needing to brand it in her memory. They lay there, belly to belly, drifting in the afterglow of lusty, satisfying sex. "I like sleeping under covers. It makes me feel safe."
"Safe from what? What scares you, Izzy-girl?"
"When I was a little girl, I was afraid of a lot of things. I thought covers would keep someone from grabbing me."
When he didn't reply, she opened her eyes and saw his closed, his long, dark lashes lying against his cheeks; saw his lips slightly parted, swollen and shiny from ardent kissing. She had observed his ability to concentrate fiercely on everything he did. She should have known he would bring the same intensity to lovemaking.
Lovemaking. Was that what had taken place between them or was it something darker and more basic? Scratching an itch they both felt. Whatever it was, it definitely was not "safe."
"John?" She spoke just above a whisper, wanting to save the tender moment.
"Hmm?"
"I thought you'd dozed off."
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, but his eyes didn't open. "I could. Seeing as thinking about this kept me awake the last two nights..." He kissed her, a languorous, delicious union of lips. "Awesome," he whispered when they parted, his incredible eyes fixed on hers. "You're awesome."
She smiled into those eyes, studied his too-handsome face. "You, too."
The porch roof shaded the bedroom window, making the room dim even in bright daylight, but a weak sliver of light sneaked through and cast a glint on a few sun-bleached strands of his mussed hair. She reached up and finger-combed them from his forehead. She trailed her fingers over his high cheekbone, down his square jaw. "And I don't mean just... this way. I wonder why I couldn't see that when we were kids."
His hand skimmed over her bottom, caught her thigh and brought it up and across his hip. "You didn't look."
She laughed a little at the truth and shifted to fit herself against his soft penis. "I couldn't. Don't you see? In those days, I thought I was bad because Billy and I... you know, did it. I thought it made me less bad if I steered clear of other boys."
He pressed closer and placed a kiss on her forehead, and she felt the prick of his chest hair on her breasts. "I never thought you were bad. Hell, I was jealous. If I'd been in Billy's shoes, you would've seen me doing handsprings up the hall."
"It's funny how different things look when we grow up. I thought he was so special. I couldn't see him as he really was."
"You'd already been with him a long time when I got to high school. You must've been really young when you and him—"
"I was.... Really young."
Barely fourteen, to be exact. Just a few years older than Ava. She had almost slipped and said it, but a voice in her head stopped her, warned her not to go there. She couldn't bear calling condemnation to herself by confessing to anyone that she had been sexually active before her body had fully developed. Nor could she ever openly admit she had enjoyed sex, even when, as a dumb kid, she believed she was doing something wrong.
At this moment the last person she wanted looking down on her was the man now sharing her bed. She reached for his hand and brought it to cover her breast.
"Lord, Isabelle. You're so damned soft." His thumb stroked her nipple and it hardened in instant response. He ducked his head under the quilt and his hot mouth closed around the peaked tip and applied gentle suction. Though she thought her desire had been sated, a deep tingle between her thighs made her shudder.
His head burrowed up from beneath the quilt, his hair askew. He was wearing a bad-boy grin. "You like that?"
She answered with a tiny giggle and he smacked a kiss on her lips. "Want to know how old I was when you stole my heart?"
She felt a shift in his penis and doubted his heart was the organ really on his mind. She moved her hand to touch him again and ran a finger around the tip of him. "How old?"
His eyes closed and a deep hum came from his throat. "Fifteen. You must have been seventeen or eighteen. The older woman."
"Hmm. I'm still the older woman. I just turned thirty-five."
"What? And you didn't tell me you had a birthday?"
She smiled as she felt him growing firmer. "You would've baked me a cake?"
"No baking, but I might've done something else."
She smoothed a finger around the rim at the velvety tip of him. "You would've given me this?"
His eyes were closed, but he grinned again. "Yes, ma'am, if that's what you wanted. Every last inch."
"I love touching you." She closed her hand around his growing erection.
"Ooh, darlin', I love it, too."
"Did you know all about sex when you were fifteen?"
"I knew about sex forever. I grew up on a ranch, remember?... Oh, damn, darlin'. Do that again."
She stroked the velvety tip of him with her thumb. They kissed again and he tenderly bit down on her lower lip. "But just 'cause I knew about it doesn't mean I knew what to do a
bout it. That took some teaching. I'll tell you a secret. Back when I spent every day wishing you'd just speak to me? I was a virgin."
She called up memories of an awkward boy with a buzz haircut. "How old were you when—?"
"Sixteen when a woman showed me the ropes."
"Woman? A grown woman?" An unexpected little spurt of righteousness sparked within Isabelle and she felt empathy with a teenager who had been exposed to adult behavior at a young age. "Who? Someone around here?"
"You don't really want to dig into—"
"Yes, I do. Who?"
"A gal from Twin Falls. Nobody you'd know."
Like a neon sign, rodeo flashed in Isabelle's mind. "I can guess. A rodeo babe."
A deep chuckle came from his throat. "She was that, all right. She came to every show I roped in that summer, including the ones in Utah and Nevada."
"Ah, I see." Isabelle tightened her fingers around him and smiled. "Couldn't get enough of this, huh?"
"I don't know about that. I doubt if I was her only cowboy. I know I sure couldn't get enough."
Feeling a pang of jealousy, she made a little gasp and released him.
"Hey, hey," he said softly as he grasped her hand and returned it to him. "It's a rite of passage, darlin'. All boys go through it. Unless there's something wrong with them. There wasn't anything awful about it."
She resumed stroking, but she couldn't keep from resenting another woman touching him so intimately. Her curiosity wouldn't let her abandon the issue. "How old was she?"
"Twenty-six."
She trailed her finger along the thick vein up the back of his erection lying long and thick against his belly. "And you were sixteen? That's terrible. She was ten years older than you."
"I looked older. I was big for my age." He pushed back the quilt, exposing her breasts. Her nipples stiffened even more in the chill. He began to tease one with his tongue.
She reveled in the delight that sang through her body. "Rodeos and horse shows. They're all the same. They're worse than bars for being pick-up places."
"You never fooled around behind the pens at a horse show?"
The Love of a Lawman, The Callister Trilogy, Book 3 Page 16