Marrying an Older Man

by Arlene James

  Blushing, she nodded hopefully and hurried toward the kitchen. Well, it wasn't exactly the outcome for this day that she'd expected, but it could have been worse. After all, not a single rock had been thrown by anyone. In fact, had Haney not interrupted, Jesse would be making love to her now, but it was probably best that it hadn't happened, after all, not that way and not at this time. If they were going to have any kind of future, she and Jesse had to come together in honesty and love. The question was, would it happen? She could only pray and hope, like Haney, that her tomorrow would come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fie didn't come home that night. He didn't come home the next morning, so he wasn't there to see his father off. He didn't come home for dinner, either, which seemed to give Handsome ideas again, so much so that Tiger dragged him out of the house almost before he finished his dinner. Caroline heard them arguing as they trudged toward their respective vehicles.

  "She's Jesse's girl," Tiger said.

  "Well, he sure doesn't act like it!" Handsome retorted.

  "She's still Jesse's girl," Tiger insisted, and Caroline had to agree. No matter what, she was Jesse's girl. She wasn't even sure she could stop being Jesse's girl if she wanted to. So she locked the house up tight and settled down to wait for him in front of the now-repaired television, a book on her lap.

  Some time after ten, she got up and went upstairs to bed, but after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, she gave up and went back downstairs in her flannel pajamas to sit in front of the television again and wonder what, exactly, was supposed to be entertaining about late-night programming. Eventually fatigue and

  206

  207

  sheer boredom did the trick, and the next thing she knew, something jerked her awake.

  She sat up on the couch, blinking in the heavy darkness and wondering what was wrong, and then it hit her. The television. Someone had turned it off. Jesse. She pushed her hair back and looked around the room. After a bit, her eyes adjusted and she caught the outline of a figure sitting in Haney's chair. She cleared her throat and tried to keep the edge off her voice.

  "So, have a good day?"

  He said nothing for a moment, and then he sighed heavily. "No."

  "Good. Serves you right. Me, neither, so I guess that makes us even."

  "I had to think," he said.

  Nodding, she folded her legs beneath her and settled down for a talk. "Okay. Would it have killed you to call, though?"

  "No. But getting so drunk I couldn't call almost did. I woke up about four this afternoon with my third—and final—hangover ever. But then I vowed that the last time, too."

  Caroline smiled into the dark. "And how long did that vow last?"

  "Oh, going on ten years, I reckon."

  She laughed. "Well, maybe this one will have some real sticking power."

  "It ought to," he said drily. "I thought someone had split my skull down the middle with a dull ax when I woke up in that motel room this afternoon."

  Caroline tried to keep the question behind her teeth, but she couldn't help it. She had to know. "Did you wake up alone?"

  A heartbeat later he said, "Yeah, and I went to bed alone, too."

  She was glad that the darkness hid her face just then because she couldn't have kept the relief from showing if her life had depended on it.' 'I shouldn't have asked that," she managed shak- ~ ily.

  "No, you shouldn't have." She heard a rustle of movement as he slid forward to the edge of his seat and then his voice, muffled by the hands he held to his face. "God, Caroline, don't you know that you're the only woman I want?"

  She didn't know who got up first, and she didn't care, not even when she smacked her shin on the edge of the coffee table. It stopped hurting the moment his arms came around her.

  "I know it's not right," he was saying, "but I want you so much."

  She hushed him with fingers pressed against his lips, then replaced them with her mouth, exulting in the eagerness of his response. Everything about him was so dear, the hard strength of his body, the earthy, male smell of him, the roughness of his callused hands, the scratch and pull of his two-day growth of beard, even the deep catch in his bream when she pressed her upper body more fully against him. Her own breath caught when he cupped her bottom in his big hands and thrust the proof of his maleness against her, his kiss suddenly more aggressive than her own.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and welcomed his tongue into her mouth. It was not enough. Coiling one leg around him, she opened herself to the thrust and grind of his pelvis. The pressure alone made her head swim, and yet it was still not enough, not nearly enough. Apparently it wasn't enough for him, either, because he slid one hand over her hip and down to the thigh of the leg upon which she balanced herself, lifting it and coaxing it around him as he took her weight into his arms. A sound of need rippled up from deep in his chest, echoing into her mouth. He turned, bumped his way around the coffee table and dropped both of them down onto the couch into a sitting position. She moved so that she knelt astraddle his lap, her hands framing his face as she kissed him. He shoved his hands up under the top of her pajamas, cupping and squee'zing. The pleasure of that simple touch was astonishing, and she arched against his palms, rocking her pelvis against him. Moaning, he jerked his hands away and turned his head, breaking the kiss.

  "I can't do this," he said raggedly. "I shouldn't do this, no matter how much I want to."

  Caroline matched her forehead and the tip of her nose to his. "We both know I want this, Jesse, and we both know how I feel about you. So the only question I have right now is, do you love me?"

  j"

  208

  He caught handfuls of her hair in his fists and pulled her head back so that he could look into her eyes. "Yes. But—"

  She stopped him from saying more by laying her cheek against his mouth. "That's all that matters to me, Jesse."

  He covered her ears with his hands and turned her head, determined. "Caroline, I can't promise you—"

  "It doesn't matter now. Just don't stop. Make love to me, Jesse."

  He groaned. "Caroline, sweetheart, I—"

  "I won't lie to you, Jesse," she said quickly. "I want you to be the only man ever to make love to me, but if you can't promise to be the only one, then please be the first. Don't let some other man be my first, not when I love you so much, when I know I'll always love you."

  "Caroline. Ah, God, I want to believe I can give you everything you'll ever need, be everything you'll ever want, but I can't risk it."

  "Then don't," she said, unbuttoning her pajama top, "just be what I need and what I want now. We'll let tomorrow take care of itself, but tonight... Love me tonight, Jesse. Love me."

  With a sigh of defeat and mingled anticipation, lie capitulated. His trembling hands brushed open the front of her shirt. She shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms and fall away. He moaned and filled his hands. She caught her breath as his warm palms molded her pale flesh. Her head fell back, and a molten need surged between her legs. He seemed to know and thrust his hips upward accordingly, grinding against her in a movement that partly assuaged and partly inflamed her need.

  "Hurry, Jesse," she panted, answering his thrusts with her own.

  Quickly he twisted and lowered her onto her back, pulling away long enough to throw off his clothes. She lifted her arms for him, but his hands came down on her waist, clutched the elastic band of her pajama bottoms and peeled them down and off, tossing them over the end of the couch. She spread her legs for him, and he came down between them on one knee, his hands sliding beneath her hips and lifting her.

  209

  "This could hurt," he said when he was positioned to enter

  her.

  "I don't care." She wrapped her legs around him and opened her arms. He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly sinking into her core. She tightened her embrace as he came down on top of her, desperate to have him buried deeply inside her. At one point she felt a smal
l pinch of discomfort, but it was completely overshadowed by the heat and fullness stretching her, to completion. Finally he stopped and broke the kiss, his muscles rigid as he nuzzled her cheek.

  "I'll try to go slow," he whispered roughly, "but I'm not

  really sure I can."

  "Don't," she answered breathlessly, pulsing against him.

  "Jesse, I need—"

  "I know," he said, thrusting deeply.

  An arrow of light drove straight to her head. She cried out, arching beneath him and holding him tight. He moved again and again, the ecstasy blinding her with light from within. She clutched and clawed at him, finally finding her rhythm and rising up to meet him, thrust for thrust. When she reached the zenith he was buried deeply inside her, but men suddenly he was pulling

  out.

  "No!" she cried out, surging upward and clamping her hands

  down on his hips, legs locked around him.

  With a strangled moan he drove into her again, shuddering and jerking his head back. A moment later he collapsed atop her, heart hammering, lungs pumping. "Sweet heaven!" he gasped against the curve of her neck. Caroline tried to hold on to him, but her body had turned to butter, a languid peacefulness settling over her. Her arms and legs slid away, the weight of his body pressing her into the sofa cushions.

  "Oh, Jesse," she whispered, and felt the curve of his smile against her throat. After a moment he levered himself up onto erne elbow, and for the first time she realized how truly small and uncomfortable that couch was for two people, especially when one of diem was so big and heavy.

  "No pain, I take it."

  211

  210

  Laughter bubbled up out of her throat. ' 'No pain, just wonderful pleasure."

  "Yes," he said, kissing her.

  To her surprise she felt desire quicken again. Her body contracted, and his leaped in response. "Oh, my," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He chuckled deep in his throat. "Something tells me we've just begun this night."

  "I hope so."

  He rose up on his knees then, pulling her up with him. "But not here."

  "Upstairs," she agreed.

  He got to his feet, then suddenly froze. "Where's my father?"

  Caroline smiled as she stood and leaned against him. "In Denver with your mother where he belongs."

  Jesse relaxed. "Good," he said. Scooping her up into his arms, he headed for the hallway. She laid her head on his shoulder and rubbed her hands greedily over his bare skin, marveling at the warm strength that she felt beneath her fingertips. She wouldn't think of tomorrow, she told herself. After all, hadn't she told Haney only the day before that all any of us could lay claim to was now? She would take this moment and hope for more, pray for more, and somehow it would be all right. It had to be all right. He loved her, and if he loved her, what could be wrong?

  When they reached the landing, she squirmed out of his arms and took control, pulling and prodding him into the closest room, which was, luckily, his own. They laughed and tussled like children, falling in a heap on the bed and wrestling with the covers until they were beneath them, cooled skin warming against cooled skin until passion flared hot and laughter became moans of pleasure and gasps of need, until the night dissolved into satiation and, finally, sleep.

  Jesse watched the light lift and the shadows pale, Caroline snuggled against him in sleep. Never in his life had he experienced anything like the past night. Despite a pleasant exhaustion, he hadn't closed his eyes for a moment since the last time they'd made love and Caroline had slid reluctantly into much-needed

  sleep. He didn't want to miss a second of this. He knew that he would never know its like again, and he meant to eke every mote of joy from this time with her as her lover. He still marveled that she had chosen him.

  Oh, he was attractive enough, but for a woman like her, attractive wouldn't normally cut it. With her looks, her talents, her style and her intelligence, she could have just about anyone, but she had picked him, a nearly thirty-eight-year-old hulk still living with his parents after a miserable, failed marriage that had ended in the unnecessary death of the last woman who had loved him. He was proud enough of who he was, a cowboy and a rancher, a horseman and a stockman, a businessman. He'd been as good a son and a brother as he could be. He thought he'd been a good uncle to Champ. He had friends who enjoyed his company and business associates who trusted him. The ranch hands treated him with respect and easy joviality. But this was different. For no good reason that he could see, Caroline had chosen him.

  / want you to be the only man ever to make love to me, but if you can't be the only one, then please be the first. The first man to make love to her.

  It was overwhelming, incredible. It was enough. It had to be. And yet...

  He'd long ago accepted the fact mat he was a failure only in one area, as a husband, and that failure had barred him from trying his hand at another role, that of a father. He wondered if he'd crossed the line last night. God knew he hadn't done anything to prevent it, and he was confused by that now. It didn't fit with who and what he was. He was the responsible one—not that Rye had been irresponsible exactly, only wilder, younger, more emotional. Jesse had watched his brother make a name for himself on the rodeo circuit, where it was said that he'd performed in more bedrooms than arenas, and Jesse had often felt the need to caution Rye. Yet, last night he had lain here with this woman hi his arms, made love to her over and over again and, after a merely token attempt, had done nothing whatsoever to protect her from impregnation, while a box of condoms was stored discreetly in the far comer of a shelf in his closet, close at hand. How could he have done it? It was the single most irresponsible

  T

  213

  212

  act of his life, and at this moment he felt nothing more than confusion and a certain wryness at his own lack of shame and outrage. As he lay there, putting off the moment when she would leave his bed forever, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if she were, indeed, pregnant. Smiling to himself, he tightened his arm about her slender waist and carefully weighed her breast in his hand, picturing her big with child, her stomach distended, breasts swollen. Perhaps the perfect oval of her face would round out a bit, her hips spread. He lightly stroked her long, pale tresses, wondering if pregnancy would tax her so mat it lost some of its shine and silkiness. In all likelihood, he would never know. In all the time he and Kay had been together, she had never conceived and they had never done anything to prevent it, having intended from the beginning to grow a family. He was not likely now to become a father after a single night.

  Just for a moment, disappointment assailed him. He thought with some bitterness of Rye, who would soon have a second child to love, but then he turned off that feeling and concentrated instead on the woman in his arms. For the first time, he wished he were the younger brother instead of the elder. If he could only be twenty-eight again, he would allow himself less self-knowledge. He would take a chance, risk it all, even knowing that she would be the one taking the greater risk. He would be selfish, unruly, swept away by the emotions he was feeling. It probably wouldn't work out This acute love and staggering desire would undoubtedly fade, perhaps not as quickly as before but almost assuredly.

  Yes, the feelings would fade. One night she would smile at him with invitation in her eyes, and he would feel sick in the pit of his belly. He'd try not to show it, but she would soon see through the pretense, and her hurt and confusion would torture them bom. He would do his best, but it wouldn't be good enough. Every day and every night she would wonder why he couldn't love her as he should and he would wonder how to fix it Stay or go? Pretend or talk honestly?

  No, he couldn't do it to her. Last night aside, he was the responsible Wagner brother. He would do what he should. Any pain they might feel now would be nothing to what they could feel if

  he let himself forget the facts of his life. He was who he was and what he always would be.

&nbs
p; She stirred, moving against him languidly, and he smiled once more, knowing that he would never forget the way she twitched her nose and moaned softly as if greeting the day with equal parts welcome and trepidation. He knew the exact moment when she realized where and with whom she was. Smiling, she shifted and rolled against him, the warm scent of her skin and their love-making drifting over him.

  "Mmm, good morning," she mumbled, snuggling beneath his chin, her cheek against his chest, one slender leg sliding between bis. Desire flared, tugging almost painfully at his groin. He knew that if he gave in to it this time, he would never do what he must He jerked away.v