by Unknown
Mesmerized, she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything quite so sensual as Wild Remington washing his chest with those slow circular motions as he lathered his skin, unless it was that summer day she’d watched him rise up out the creek, a golden Adonis.
She couldn’t take her hungry gaze off him, and resented it when he stopped long enough to rinse the washcloth off in the water a couple of times, squeeze it out, then lather on soap again.
What in the world was he doing up so late—bathing for heaven’s sake, when there was a perfectly good shower in the bathroom? Maybe he’d been afraid of disturbing her. This way was quieter. She scowled. What on Earth? It dawned on her Wild wasn’t simply washing and rinsing. It was more like he attacked his body, scrubbing and scrubbing. She thought if he had a bar of Old-Fashioned lye soap he’d be in heaven. Surely his skin must be rubbed raw. Good grief. It wasn’t as if he’d returned to the cabin caked in mud.
Puzzled, she propped up on one elbow and looked around. Looking around wasn’t a major task in the small cabin, but it was utterly dark, except for the weak glow cast by the low burning flames in the fireplace. Like that day at the creek, the astonishing image of Wild standing naked near the soft blaze of coals cleansing his chest over and over was indelibly stamped in her mind for all time.
He looked like a bronzed god standing there with water sluicing down his tight stomach and powerful thighs.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Had there ever been a man built like this one?
Nope, she didn’t think so.
He reminded her of a streamlined cougar, long and lean, tawny and sleek, fit and roped with muscle. Perfection. No blemishes that she could see.
Mesmerized, Jayla couldn’t resist watching him. He turned so now his body was in profile. Her breath escaped in a heated rush. Ooh, her memory served right. Lord-a-mercy, but the cowboy was one smooth put-together alpha male. Just as she’d remembered Wild had absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about when it came to what he packed up front and just south of his zipper.
Her brows knitted together. Nor did he have a reason to practically rub his skin raw. She wanted to shout at him to stop, but wasn’t sure of his reaction to her seeing him at what was a very private moment.
But if he didn’t stop, his skin really would be chafed. Suddenly he turned and she realized the fire wasn’t nearly as close to being out as she’d first thought. It was only because he stood between her and the hearth that made it seem so dim in the room.
His turning gave her the full frontal she’d been holding her breath for. She froze and smothered a gasp. Her gaze crept down the length of his chest, past his lean belly to settle on his crotch. His penis jutted high, hard, and looked utterly inviting. Her fingers curled into the sheet. She ached to touch him, taste him. Unaware that she observed him, he turned his back to her and her heart leapt into her throat.
Oh, dear God. Jayla fought the sudden onslaught of tears stinging her eyes. Lord above, how had she missed such a horrible scar? Hypnotized, she stared at the awful sight and felt like weeping. Someone may as well have plunged a knife in her breast the way the pain slashed her heart. Murderous rage took hold. She wanted to wound whoever had done such a cruel thing to this man.
She narrowed her eyes, studying the place just above his left kidney that ended near the top of his left hip. A jagged, V-shaped disfigurement marred what had once been unblemished skin. It rose unevenly in places, making it obvious that whatever weapon the person used, he’d twisted and turned it repeatedly, shredding the skin. The flesh must have been horribly mangled to leave such a serrated-looking scar. At the time it happened, it surely hurt beyond her grasp of understanding.
God, who had injured him like that?
When?
Why?
Rising above and curving around the ugly scar, a longer, thinner surgeon’s incision, faded now, but left no doubt Wild had been cut open to repair the damage. The faded scar ran halfway across his lower back and toward the side of his waist.
No flaws? She was so wrong about that. His skin had lasting marks he’d carry to his grave. She didn’t care, except for the fact that she knew in her heart that somehow, it was her fault. Jayla tossed back the covers and padded silently across the room. Unthinking, she touched the jagged site with shaking fingers.
Wild whirled, his body a blur in the shadows. The pan of water he’d been using flew through the air and landed on the floor with a clamor. Water sloshed around, spilling onto a small throw rug. One hand locked around her wrist while the other fisted and flew toward her face.
At the last second, he pulled the punch, dropping his arm. “Sonofabitch! Don’t ever sneak up behind me like that again,” he yelled. “Jesus Christ, I could have hurt you.”
“You are hurting me,” she said in a shaky voice.
“What?” He looked down and slowly released her wrist. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Jayla slid her palm down his arm in an attempt to turn him so she could see the scar better.
He balked like a stubborn mule. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Please? Let me see.”
A slow pent-up breath escaped him, as if it’d been his safety valve and locked in place. “No. For God’s sake, Jayla, I’m naked and…so are you. Go back to bed.”
“I’m not naked.”
His gaze skimmed her breasts, down her belly and darted away. “So you’re wearing panties…of some sort. They aren’t covering much. Go to bed. You don’t need to be this close to me and me naked like this.”
“What? Is it going to go off or something?” She eyed his jutting cock and thought it just might do exactly that. “Besides, I was a lot closer than this in bed.”
“Then, I was too cold to react. If I’d had any sense, I would never have let you crawl in beside me. Now go to bed,” he ordered and turned away from her.
“Stop being a bully,” she snapped, frustrated that he wouldn’t look at her. “Stop treating me like a child. I haven’t been a child since that day at the creek. For God’s sake, look at me.”
He turned to face her and lifted a brow.
“I haven’t been a child since I was fifteen,” she repeated. “I’m not going to bed until you let me see your back.”
“For heaven’s sake, can’t you leave me alone?” he shouted, irritated. “What do you want from me? I only have so much control, woman, and with your hands all over me you’re bending it to the snapping point.”
“Am I?” She searched his face, dropped her gaze to his rigid cock and noted its little sway toward her. “Hmm, yes, I guess I am trying your restraint, or something’s restraint, anyway, but honestly, I just want to look at your back. If you insist hands off anything else, I swear I won’t touch it…for now anyway.”
He mumbled something beneath his breath that sounded like, ‘You better make this fast,’ then slowly turned his back to her.
Jayla wasted a perfectly good glower on him. “I don’t like to be rushed.”
He snorted, but kept his back to her. Gingerly, she slid her fingertips across his hip, then up, following the lines of the scars. He flinched beneath her light touch. She heard his sharp intake of breath and wondered just how close he was to his breaking point and what exactly would he do if he reached it? “This happened to you in prison?” she asked, choking back her anger.
“No.”
“It did. I know it did. You’re turning into as big a liar as me.”
“That’ll be the day.”
“This is my fault. Isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“How can you say that when you know it’s true? Tell me what happened. Don’t sugar-coat it either. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
He sighed, his spine rigid. “Fine.” Impatience threaded his voice. “Five years in a hell-hole prison, you either toughen up, become some horny inmate’s old lady, or you get a shank in the back if you refuse. It cost me a kidney, but as the saying goes, you should ha
ve seen the other guy.”
“Don’t.” Jayla’s voice trembled. “Don’t make light of it.” She dropped to her knees and pressed her cheek against his hip. “I don’t imagine you were able to fight back after this happened.” Tenderly, she traced her tongue along the rough edges of the raised flesh, making her way to the front. “I’m sorry.” Her voice caught on a tiny hitch. “I’m so sorry.” She trailed fairy-light kisses across his stomach.
“Jayla.” Wild sounded raw and edgy. He locked his fingers on her upper arms. “You’re killing me here, lady. You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“I said I wouldn’t touch you with my hands. I didn’t say anything about not using my mouth, tongue, or teeth.”
His cock jerked. “For God’s sake, you know how to bring a man to his knees. Don’t you?”
She curled her fingers around the hard length swaying in front of her nose. “If you say so.”
“I do say so―” His words ended on a sharp hiss as she unhurriedly licked the firm length of his hard penis.
“I think there’s more to the story,” she said between tracing her tongue around the wide head of his cock. “Tell me.” Bit-by-bit, she nibbled, teased, and trailed kisses up and down the velvety smooth length before leisurely closing her mouth around the thick head and twirling her tongue in a sensual dance.
Wild locked his fingers in her hair and rocked his hips. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You want me to talk at a moment like this?” He gasped. “I…Jayla…stop. Stop, now.”
She ignored him, cupping his balls and gently squeezing the soft nuggets. All the while, she toyed with the little opening, dipping her tongue in and out, dancing around it, licking and sucking until he shook with need.
“Damn it, I said stop!” Moaning, Wild thrust her away. “Shit.” He raked unsteady hands through his hair. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
The cowboy didn’t sound too happy or like a man who enjoyed a blowjob.
“What? Nearly get you off? Don’t tell me you didn’t like it or that you don’t need me to give you some relief. You’re hard as a branding iron. I know you need me.”
Swearing, he picked up the now empty wash pan he’d knocked off the stand and placed it back on it. “I don’t need you or need you to do a damn thing for me. That’s what I have a hand and fingers for.” Wild stood there a moment before dropping the washcloth in the pan and turning to face her. “When the time is right, sex is a two-way street, Jayla. The pleasure is shared equally between partners who care about each other. It isn’t something where only one receives gratification while the other is left wanting. You have no right to decide who I share my body with.” His chest rose hard and fast with anger. He stood there staring down at her, angry and maybe a bit frustrated. “I don’t want you to touch me. Not like that. Not in any way like that. I don’t want to fuck you, and I sure as hell don’t want you to fuck me.”
“I see.” Jayla lowered her head. Boy, when a man refused a blow job, he must really, bone-deep, hate the woman offering it. What an idiot she’d made of herself falling on his dick like a kid who’d lost her ice cream cone. “I understand,” she stated. “You can’t stand for me to touch you.” She looked up. Tears burned her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I was just trying…trying…I’m sorry.”
“Will you stop saying you’re sorry?” Wild stared at her, impatience lining his face. He stepped back from her, purposely putting some distance between them. “Jesus Christ, you don’t understand anything.”
Jayla’s lips trembled. “Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You can tell me you hate me. Just say the words. I’ll certainly understand them easy enough.”
“I don’t hate you. Hell, woman, look at my dick, and think about how I just nearly…well, hell…you know what almost happened, and you barely touched me. I think it’s pretty safe to say I don’t hate you. I’m pretty damn sure my cock’s in love with your mouth and tongue.”
She couldn’t keep from grinning. Sometimes he said the funniest things in the oddest way. “That’s physical, not emotional,” Jayla said.
“It’s more than physical. I don’t get a hard-on for every pretty woman I see.”
“You already had the hard-on.”
“Because I was thinking about you, damn it!” He bit the words out hard like he was spitting bullets at her.
Jayla smiled through her tears. “You were?”
“Yes. The next thing I know, you’re standing beside me, naked as a little plucked bird. I’m not exactly immune to your appeal, you know.”
“Then why won’t you let me touch you? Love you? Don’t you see, Wild? I’m so damned in love with you. I’ve always loved you. I think I always will. Sex with you in any way would never be a one-way street. I love touching you. I want to give you pleasure.” Her voice rose and cracked on a painful note. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone so much you ache day and night, month after month, year after year, and know that one special person who owns your heart despises you with all of his?” Her voice quivered. “It hurts, and goes on hurting. The pain never stops…so you look for something or someone to ease the hurt, the need, and in doing so, you only compound your troubles and misery…” Her voice faded on a broken sob. “I love you. I can’t help myself. If you can’t love or want me back, I understand. I do. I don’t know what else to say, except, I can’t give up hope that maybe one day you’ll love me, too.”
His face looked tortured. His eyes, the soul of the world, filled with haunting pain. “I–I…Jayla…I can’t.” He shook his head. “I can’t, sweetheart.”
“I see.” She lowered her head and closed her eyes in defeat. Her dreams of him ever loving her vanished in those quietly spoken words. Jayla didn’t know whether to burst into tears or scream at the injustice of it. She’d prayed day and night for seven years for this chance to somehow convince him that she loved him and make him care about her.
She’d failed miserably.
There was nothing left to say.
She should leave as soon as the weather permitted and her car was fixed. Jayla lifted her head to say that very thing, but the words died on her tongue. She was shocked to see his eyes were watering. He looked away. The shamed look on his face shattered what little control she had left.
She burst into tears. “You don’t have to say anything else. I just thought you should know I love you and want you.” Jayla patted his arm. “I thought you should know that. It’s justified punishment that you don’t love or want me back in return. God knows I deserve your hatred. I’ll leave as soon as I can and you can forget any of this ever happened.”
Glistening with unshed tears, Wild’s eyes brimmed with emotion. With unsteady hands, he cupped the sides of her face. “It isn’t that I don’t want you.” He glanced at his hard shaft. “Obviously I do. You have no idea how much I want you…or how I feel about you…but I–I can’t touch you. Don’t you see? I’m not good enough for you.”
Jayla stared at him, confused. “I don’t understand. If anyone isn’t good enough, it’s me. I’ve done things, bad things. I’ve lied, cheated, slept with men I despise. I’m not coming to you a lily-white saint. All I ask is for a chance…a second chance to get it right.”
He drew a shaky breath and slowly released it. “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
She clutched his wrists as he started to let her go. “Why? If you don’t hate me, then why?”
He jerked free of her hold and turned away from her. “Damn it, Jayla, I’m unclean.”
“You just washed.” She realized she sounded ambiguous, but his reason sounded insane.
He turned back, his eyes no longer wet with the sheen of tears, but cool and wary. “Not that kind of unclean. Deep inside me, there’s a black stain. I’m ugly and filthy to my soul. I’m not fit for any woman, above all you.”
“So am I,” she cried, “far worse than you can imagine.”
He shook his h
ead. “You don’t get it. I’m not fit to touch you.”
Jayla didn’t think she’d ever been so confused in her life. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
He shuddered when she stroked the side of his face. “Nothing you’ve done could be as bad as the marks I have on my soul,” she cried, fighting the urge to fling herself into his arms. “Tell me.”
His big body trembled. He quickly looked away, his eyes downcast. “You have to know it all, don’t you?” he said on a tortured whisper. “You won’t leave me a modicum of privacy, will you? You were always like that, demanding more from me than I could give.”
He reminded her of a little puppy that’d been kicked when it was already down.
“You won’t stop until you know how low I sank in that fucking place, will you?” he asked.
“I don’t care. I want to understand, be there for you, then put it past us,” she said. “Don’t you think I have the same needs? There’s more between us than sex. There’s the strength of love, the power of need. You might not be ready to admit you love me, but I know you do. I’ve always known you loved me. You just refused to act on it and we both lost.”
“Jesus God, all right, if you must have your pound of flesh, I’ve been with a man,” he yelled. “Satisfied now? Do you understand? How can I touch you when I’m so ashamed I can’t even look you in the eyes? Now please…go to bed and leave me alone.”
Chapter Sixteen
It isn’t true that convicts live like animals—animals have more room to move around.
~Mario Vargas Llosa
Montana
West side of Dancing Star
February 21, Saturday
3:00 a.m.
“OhmyGod! You’re gay?” Jayla blurted the words before she realized that not only was she questioning his sexual preference, but she sounded disdainful as well, and really disappointed. She clamped a hand over her run-away tongue. Stupid. Stupid.