When Bruce Met Cyn

by Lori Foster

  He eyed her breasts, just inches above his face. "Your turn at what?"

  "At pleasuring you."

  His eyes narrowed. "You don't need to do that."

  "But I—"

  He rolled her to her back, patted her thigh, and pushed off the bed in a rush. "Stay put. I'll make it quick and then you can take a turn."

  Cyn watched him leave, almost choking on her hurt Damn him, why did he hold her at arm's length? Did her expertise with sexual matters disgust him? For certain, he'd never let her show him any expertise. He treated her like an ignorant virgin, as if screwing was permissible, but anything more was dirty.

  Well, it was time Bruce Kelly realized just how dirty she wanted to be with him. If being herself repulsed him, then he'd have to tell her outright.

  She left the bed and stood in front of the dresser mirror, removing the pins from her hair until the dark mass cascaded down her back.

  As she headed to the bathroom, she heard the shower running, heard Bruce splashing around. She stepped into the tiny bathroom, drew the shower curtain back, and found Bruce soaping up one underarm.

  Cyn plastered on a smile, and stepped in with him. Bruce's soap hit the tub floor.

  * * *

  He couldn't do this, Bruce thought as he watched Cyn step gloriously naked beneath the shower spray, soaking her long, dark hair until it hung around her round, pale breasts and trickled down her smooth belly into her pubic curls.

  There were a hundred different ways he wanted to ravish her—raunchy, hot scenarios that crowded his brain at every opportunity. He wanted her on her back, he wanted her astride him. He wanted her on her knees... He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to obliterate that provoking image.

  Cyn needed to know that he respected her, that she was precious to him. As his wife, she was by far the most important person in his world. He didn't want to treat her like an experienced woman because her past didn't matter to him. She didn't need to use her sexuality to keep him.

  But if she insisted on flaunting herself in front of him ... He was only a man, a man deeply in love with his wife.

  Water trickled off her still-rosy nipples and gathered like tears on her lush lashes. "Don't worry, Bruce," she said, "I won't hurt you."

  Smiling pained him, but then he was already so hard again, moving was an effort. "I'll be finished in just a moment," he said. But he didn't move. The soap was between her feet, and no way could he bend down there without kissing her, without enjoying the delicious scent of her.

  Cyn did the unexpected. She turned her back to him, then bent for the soap.

  Lord have mercy, the things this one particular woman did to him. He couldn't take his eyes off her heart-shaped rear, and then his hands were on her, stroking her wet hips.

  Cyn straightened and slowly turned toward him. "I'll finish your bath for you."

  He should have objected. He should have left the shower. Instead, he stood there while she worked the soap between her hands until she had a good, frothy collection of suds. She put the soap in the wall dish and, with a siren's smile, placed her hands on his shoulders.

  His shoulders weren't sexual, for crying out loud, but his erection bobbed in disagreement, feeling the slick, smoothing motion of her small hands as surely as if she clasped him. Her palms moved down over his own nipples, back and forth once, making his breath catch, then down, down.

  She went to one knee and lathered his right thigh.

  Bruce closed his eyes and leaned back on the tiled shower wall. Maybe if he didn't watch her, he could handle this. Then again ... maybe not.

  She was quite thorough, rubbing her small, soft hands over every inch of his body, except for where he wanted her touch the most.

  Her breasts were slick against his back while she washed his shoulders, the backs of his thighs and between them. She came so close to touching him that his control faltered and he nearly grabbed her.

  Then she was on her knees in front of him again, paying extra attention to his abdomen, his navel, down his hips to his legs and feet.

  He felt her breath.

  Bruce swallowed and opened his eyes just as her fingers closed firmly around him. One hand held the base of his erect penis while the other cuddled his testicles. The showerhead sprayed over them both, but the warm water barely penetrated his Senses, not when competing with her warm breath and warmer touch.

  "Relax, Bruce."

  His hand knotted a fistful of her slippery wet hair. "You don't have to do this."

  She looked up at him, her eyes big and beseeching, her lips parted. "I want to."

  His resistance crumpled. Rather than holding her away, he drew her forward until her lips touched the head of his penis. Her tongue came out, licking daintily, again and again, until he labored for breath and his testicles were tight with the need to ejaculate. And just when he knew he couldn't bear it anymore, she swallowed his length, drawing him into the wet heat of her mouth, her clever tongue moving over him, around the sensitive head, driving him insane while pushing him toward release.

  Bruce rumbled out a long groan, and he held her there with his sex in her mouth, her lips tight around him, and he felt himself ready to come. "That's enough," he growled shakily.

  But she didn't pull back.

  He fought it, saying in a rush, "Cyn, honey, you have to stop."

  She hummed out a disagreement, then clasped his thighs so he couldn't escape her.

  Bruce pressed his back hard against the wall, needing the support. He locked his knees, cradled her head in his hands—and came like a wild man. It was so powerful that he could barely stay upright. His hips jerked, his entire body shuddered, and his shout was loud and raw with emotion, edgy with lust

  When Cyn released him, he slowly sank down until he was sitting, his head back, his limbs loose and his heart still racing. Cyn turned, put the stopper in the tub, and switched the shower so that the tub began to fill.

  On her knees, she faced Bruce. And waited.

  He got his eyes opened, saw the uncertainty in her gaze, and opened his arms to her. "Come here, you."

  She scuttled up against his chest and Bruce stretched out his legs, holding her to his pounding heart while the water level rose.

  After that, after what she'd done and what he'd enjoyed more than any man had a right to, he decided anything was fair game. They soaked while he regained his breath. But when he was ready again, he took his turn bathing her, then rinsed and dried them both and carried her back to bed.

  It was a night meant for sexual exploration and excesses in the extreme. Bruce felt tireless, mostly because Cyn was an open, generous lover. She took, but she also gave, and she enjoyed anything that brought Bruce enjoyment. They skipped dinner, and until four in the morning, they skipped sleep.

  But exhaustion finally won out, and when Bruce rolled to his back, he heard the soft, metered breathing of deep sleep. He looked at Cyn, at the wild tangle of her midnight hair and the even rise and fall of her breasts, and contentment settled on him, lulling him to sleep as well.

  He turned on his side, pulled her up against him, and dozed off with the knowledge that she was his, now and always. Nothing and no one, especially Palmer Oaks, would change that. , He wouldn't let it change.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cyn woke to an empty bed, and it panicked her. Before she could even get her eyes open, she'd been reaching for Bruce—but he wasn't there. She bolted upright, her gaze searching the empty room.

  Then her memory kicked in, and she sank back against her pillows with a pained frown. Last night had been ... not what Bruce was expecting.

  Heck, it hadn't even been what she'd planned. She wanted him to stop holding back, sure, but wow, had he gone overboard.

  Bruce on the loose was something, all right. Wicked and naturally sensual. Exciting and inexhaustible. Provocative and daring. His stamina amazed her. Of course, he'd been celibate a long time, so maybe that contributed to last night's marathon. She wouldn't be dumb enough to mak
e any more of it than that.

  She'd forced the issue, sabotaging him in the shower, taking advantage of him when he was naked and unable to run off. Cyn grinned, because she knew Bruce would never run away from her. He might take control of the situation, but he wouldn't flee. He was a most remarkable preacher, and an equally remarkable man.

  Sure, she'd gotten things started, but Bruce had certainly joined in after that, and the night had been incredible.

  Here she'd thought she knew everything about sex. Ha! She knew the moves necessary to finish the deed. But she hadn't known about all the moves in between, all the touching and kissing and whispered words that made it so much more special. With Bruce, the moves didn't matter. He could have stood her on her head and she'd have loved it because it wasn't what she did, but rather that she did it with Bruce.

  She sat up and shoved her hair out of her face, considering what to do next. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows. It was late morn-ing, or maybe even early afternoon, so no wonder Bruce wasn't still in bed with her.

  God, let that be the only reason.

  Please don't let it be that she'd repulsed him with her sexuality, that she'd encouraged him to do things he now regretted.

  Bruce was a man of religion, and she'd debauched him—and gotten debauched-—quite thoroughly. It wasn't what he was used to, and maybe, even though he'd succumbed, it wasn't what he wanted. Had he hoped for a meek little wife who'd be content to have sex in the dark, beneath the covers? He had kept the lights off before yesterday.

  But damn it, he'd married an ex-hooker. Preacher or not, he knew what he was getting into, and she wouldn't apologize for wanting him.

  Slipping naked from the bed, Cyn was amazed at how unsteady she felt. Like a drunk with a hangover. She almost laughed. Even as a lady of the night, she hadn't spent so many hours in the sack.

  She stretched her lethargic body awake, then found one of Bruce's T-shirts to slip on over her head. Filled with uncertainty and a twinge of belligerence, she went in search of her husband.

  The house was small, so he wasn't hard to locate. She didn't call out, just peeked in each room until she finally found him in the back of the house, where the glass block wall was now complete. He wore only unfastened jeans and held a steaming cup of coffee while staring off into space, at nothing in particular that Cyn could tell.

  His back was broad, and as he sipped his coffee, muscles flexed and moved, making her heartbeat accelerate.

  He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't heard her enter the room. For a while, Cyn soaked in the sight of him, her heart full and her eyes burning. Sunlight flooded the room and played around his big body, gilding his skin and making his fair hair appear lighter.

  "Bruce."

  He looked over his shoulder, his smile soft and... loving. "Good morning, sweetheart."

  He didn't look or sound disgusted with her. Just the opposite. Cyn cautiously brightened. "Morn-ing."

  That was it. Nothing more. Bruce simply stared at her, not at her body, but at her face. She fidgeted and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I slept like a log. You should've woke me."

  His unrelenting gaze warmed and his smile lifted. "I liked the idea that I wore you out."

  Oh boy, the way he said that, like a typical macho guy reveling in his bedroom skills, which maybe he was. "Yeah, well. That you did." Feeling brazen, she stepped forward and covered his hand with her own to bring the coffee cup to her lips. "Mmm. Good."

  "Want me to get you a cup?"

  She tucked in her chin, looking at him with sultry insinuation. "I'll just share yours."

  "Okay."

  Damn it, he could be so enigmatic when he chose. "So. What are you doing in here all by yourself?"

  "Thinking."

  "About what?"

  He gave a casual shrug, while she stayed on pins and needles.

  "The room is nearly complete." He peered around the empty space with that secretive, serene smile. "Another week or so and it'll all be done. Soon we'll be able to have services here instead of the bank's meeting room."

  "That's all you were thinking?"

  He handed her the cup for another drink. "No. I was also thinking that we need to get your driver's license. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I don't want you to be dependent on me, or anyone else, for a ride. There'll be times when we'll need two cars, so once you pass the test, we'll get something. Probably used. Maybe a truck." He crossed his arms and went back to perusing the glass block. I could use a truck."

  Cyn thought about throwing the steaming mug at his head. "Anything else on your mind?"

  "Yes." He glanced at her. "I was saying my morning prayers."

  And she'd intruded. Well, hell. Having a preacher for a husband would take some getting used to. She should probably start learning what she could about him. "You say your prayers in here?"

  "Here, the kitchen, the backyard. God doesn't care where." Bruce took the mug and sat it on a worktable. "He just likes to hear from me."

  Bruce made them sound like old pals, and given Bruce's vocation, she supposed he might feel that way. "Does He now?"

  "As much as I like hearing from Him." Bruce looped his arms around her waist and bent to kiss the tip of her nose.

  "And so you were in here, chatting with God?"

  Bruce stared at her face, studying her features in minute detail. His voice dropped to a soft, velvety whisper. "I wanted to thank Him for my many blessings."

  The burning of her eyes increased. She would not cry like some ninny just because Bruce was happy. He was a devout and wonderful person who always looked to the bright side. Knowing that prompted her to say, "You're such a good man, Bruce."

  "I'm a fortunate man, in many, many ways." He made a grand gesture toward the glass blocks. "It's a beautiful, sunny day, and my very own church is almost complete."

  "It is shaping up. Everyone will like it."

  His thumb moved to her bottom lip with a teasing, gentle touch. "Good friends surround me, and I enjoy good health."

  "All things you deserve."

  He smiled. "And I've been given the greatest gift of all."

  "What's that?"

  He laughed, tweaked her chin. "You."

  "Me?"

  He slowly nodded. "God's given me a lot. But best of all, He's given me you." He took her mouth in a long, toe-curling, stomach-tightening kiss, and in a husky rumble: "I'll be thanking Him every day for the rest of my life."

  When the kiss ended, Cyn dropped her forehead to his chest. "Last night. You didn't think I was too ..." No proper word came to her so she temporized with, "maybe ... raunchy?"

  Bruce squeezed her tight enough to make her squeak. "You were open and loving. Just what I wanted and needed and I reveled in every minute of it."

  "We had the lights on the whole time."

  "Mmmm. The sight of you inspires me." His nose rubbed against her hair, inhaling her scent. "We're married. There's no reason to hide in the dark."

  "You turned the lights off every other—"

  He pressed a finger to her lips. "You tempt me, Cyn, more than you realize. If I'd seen you any of those other times, I wouldn't have been able to hold back."

  So he hadn't wanted to hold back—but he had anyway? "You didn't want to go all the way because we weren't married?"

  "In part." He took her arm and together they went to the kitchen. "Even being careful, consummation runs the risk of pregnancy, and to me, that's not something that should be chanced out of matrimony. Also, it's the ultimate physical joining, something that should be very special."

  "It was special."

  Satisfaction darkening his eyes, he nodded. "Actually, for the most part, I was being an idiot. I wanted to treat you like a lady so you wouldn't get confused about how I feel. I wanted you to know that I respect you, and that your needs and wishes come first."

  Incredulous, Cyn said, "Holding out on me was your way of being kind?" She laughed, "God help me if you ever set out to make
me suffer."

  Wearing an unrepentant grin, Bruce said, "Hey, I suffered, too. I've never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you. Always. Every time I even think of you."

  "Yeah? That's nice to know."

  Bruce chastised her with a look. "Don't be so smug, young lady. After last night, I realized my whole plan was stupid. You're smart enough to know the difference between being used and being desired, regardless of what we do, or don't do, in bed."

  "Yeah, I am." But she hadn't been smart enough to understand his motives until now.

  Bruce glanced at his watch. "About one o'clock, we'll go get your temps and you can practice driving."

  'Why wait till one?" That was at least a few hours away.

  Bruce caught her around the hips, lifted her, and threw her over his shoulder. With Cyn laughing, he started up the steps. "Because right now, I want you. Again." His hand landed on her bare bottom. "Like I said, you're smart—smart enough to know you can't prance around in one of my shirts without turning me on."

  Cyn's laughter changed to a groan as Bruce's clever fingers began to stroke her thighs. He was so strong that he bounded up the steps without effort. He dropped her on the mattress and shucked off his jeans.

  Sunbeams shone like beacons on the bedding, and Cyn, without shyness or reserve, sat up to remove the shirt and toss it to the floor. She shook her hair back.

  His eyes on her belly, Bruce paused beside the bed. "I changed my mind."

  He was hard, so Cyn knew he hadn't changed his mind about joining her in the bed. "About what?"

  "We'll make it two o'clock." And then he came over her, holding her face and kissing her with passion, but also with love.

  And Cyn said her own quick prayer—that it wouldn't end. Ever.

  * * *

  Her prayers seemed to be answered when nearly two whole weeks passed in a blissful fog. There was no sight of Palmer, and Cyn hoped for the best. Did Palmer know that she'd married? Had he given up on getting his revenge and left North Carolina for good? If Palmer stayed well out of her life, she could be the happiest woman alive.

  But no one was willing to take the chance that he was still hanging around. Between Joe and Bryan, their home was secured with alarms and security cameras. The cameras were small enough that the townspeople didn't even notice them. It wouldn't do to scare people away from the church.