Jessica tried to grow accustomed to having him stretched out so casually across her. She had always thought it would be most uncomfortable to have a man’s heavy weight pressing down upon her, but now discovered that Rory had a way of leaning on his elbows to keep from crushing her. She let him finger-comb her hair and then kiss her again. In the darkness there was no need to let shyness close her eyes. She kept them open, thankful for the night shadows surrounding them.
His insistent onslaught sent such shock waves through her that she could no longer resist running her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, across his back. He pressed her down into the hay and she clung to him, relishing the feel of his back muscles moving beneath the soft cambric shirt. She felt herself growing hot and knew it was not because of the warm July night. Deep inside she was experiencing a mounting need, one that was growing more powerful with every passing second, one that could no longer be denied.
“I want to touch you, Jess.”
Her racing heartbeat intensified. She was not afraid of this man, for she knew now that he loved her, but she was afraid of herself, knowing full well that her control was hanging by a slender thread. He nipped gently at her neck, then her shoulder. His fingers worked at the buttons of the voluminous nightgown.
She let him slip the buttons open one by one and then slide the gown off one shoulder and down past her breast. Jessica hid her face against his collarbone. The night air was alive with the sound of their combined breath, his murmuring against her flesh as he kissed his way from her earlobe down her shoulder to her breast.
When his teeth gently toyed with her hardened, sensitive nipple, when his tongue teased and tempted it until she was writhing beneath him, she ceased to think, to analyze, to fight fate any longer.
He took his mouth from her breast, briefly kissed her lips, and whispered over them, “How’s the experiment going, Professor?”
Languidly she trailed her fingertips over his shoulders. “I won’t have any results until it’s complete.”
Rory went very still. He was hard and ready, eager to have her, but that in itself was nothing new. Her acquiescence was. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not afraid.”
Certain he had heard her wrong or that he had mistaken her meaning, he asked, “Do you know what you’re saying, Jess?”
“I haven’t had enough wine to fuddle my mind, if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t have stayed if I was scared of what’s about to happen. I’m here because I want to know what happens at a time like this. I have to know. I may never have another chance.”
He was puzzled. Very slowly he drew away from her and sat up. “Then you haven’t changed your mind about our getting married?”
She shook her head sadly. “No. I can’t even think about that until my work for the museum is over.”
“And when will that be?”
“I don’t know.”
He could see her silhouetted against the hay, could barely make out the ivory skin of her shoulders and breasts. She was willing to give her body to him, but not her heart. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted her with him forever.
“Rory?” She reached out to him again, the warm, liquid ache in her too strong to deny. “Please say something.”
“I want you, Jess. But—”
She pulled him down until he was atop her again. “And I want you. I want you to be the one to teach me what love and loving is all about. Before you left for Cortez, you said you wanted me to want you. I do want you. But please, don’t make me beg.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his thick hair. It was midnight black in the darkness. The tautness slowly left his shoulders and she felt him relax against her again.
“And afterward?”
She refused to tell him anything but the truth. “I can’t make any promises.”
“If that’s the way you want it.” He sat up again.
She thought he was going to leave her then and there until she heard the rustle of fabric and realized he was pulling his shirt over his head. Uncertain about how to proceed, she lay still, barely daring to breathe until he had shucked off his boots and pants.
“I wish it was light. I wish I could see all of you,” he whispered as he lay down beside her, his head propped on his elbow.
Sure she would die of embarrassment doing what she was about to do in broad daylight, Jessica blessed the darkness.
Without another word, he reached out and trailed his fingers over her breasts again. “I’m going to take off your gown.”
Afraid she would lose her nerve, she implored, “Please kiss me again.”
He did. And when he had done so thoroughly, Rory slipped his hands beneath the hem of her gown. He ran his palms up her legs, over her thighs and hips, and then encircled her waist. Her gown slowly rose, exposing her to the night air as he explored her body. It amazed her that his touch could be so gentle—so feather light. As her anticipation heightened, fear of the unknown fled.
She sat up as he slipped the gown over her head and then spread the cotton lawn beneath her. When he leaned over her again, she could feel his manhood, hard and erect, pressing against her thigh. Jessica closed her eyes. She arched against him when he dipped his head to her breasts, caressed them with his hands and lips, then began to slide his tongue down the hollow between them. He laid his cheek against her abdomen and hugged her close, then kissed her softly. She buried her fingers in his hair and tugged gently until he slid over her again, covering her with his heat and weight.
When he slipped a finger up inside her without warning, she gasped, then began to moan and thrash as he stroked and petted her until she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer. Surely there could be no greater ecstasy than this. Pressing herself up against his hand, she begged for more.
“Shh. Slow down, Jess. We’re just getting started.”
“Please,” she begged. “Please, Rory.”
“Please what?” He kissed her again, but his hand didn’t stop its maddening movement. “Please stop?”
“No,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.” Her shyness fell away and she reached out to him, let her hands explore him, clenched him to her, and rubbed her breasts against the crisp mat of hair that covered his broad chest.
Rory shuddered. She was ready for him now, more than ready—she was hot and willing. He had wanted her an hour ago. Now he was ready to explode. Unwilling to wait any longer, he raised himself over her and spread her legs with his knee. She cried out when his hand left her, clasped him to her as a sob tore from her throat.
“All right, Jess. All right.” He kissed her temple, her lashes, her lips, and then slipped his hands beneath her hips to tilt her up to receive him.
“It will hurt at first,” he whispered in her ear.
She heard him talking but was too lost in sensation to comprehend. All Miss Jessica Stanbridge, paleontologist for the Harvard Museum of Natural History, was conscious of at that moment was the man hovering over her, ready to plunge his hardened shaft into her more-than-willing body. She complied by lifting her hips against him and moaned with delight when she felt the silken tip of his shaft tease the moist opening between her thighs.
Rory nearly lost his composure and then his seed when she bucked against him and teased him with her heated flesh. He dipped into her, prodded her womanhood, tested, tempted, probed further with each stroke until he was slick with her essence. She moaned, thrashed, grasped his buttocks, and raked him lightly with her fingernails.
With each guiding thrust he opened her until he knew it was a matter of tearing her maidenhood before he could bury himself deep inside her.
Jessica was wild with need. Imploring him with her soft cries did not help—he seemed intent on torturing her forever—sliding in and out, in and out until she wanted to scream. There had to be more. This could not be all there was
to the art of lovemaking. If there was no surcease, no way to ease the fury of the fire he’d stoked inside her, she would certainly go mad. When he rocked back again, Jessica wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, desperate not to let him escape this time.
As he pulled back for the final thrust that would carry him home, he felt her long, graceful legs wrap about his waist and hold him tight. He plunged to the hilt inside her, heard her gasp and then whimper. For a moment he went still, afraid he’d hurt her, until she began to undulate her hips.
“Hold on, Jess,” he whispered. “Hold on.”
He wanted to prolong her pleasure, wanted to bring her to the brink and beyond again and again, but she was beyond thought, beyond reason—and she was carrying him along with her as her movements became more frantic. Panting, crying out, she communicated her need with lips and hands until he felt her arch beneath him and clasp him tight between her thighs.
She screamed when her release came. The sound matched the wild contractions that echoed inside her and brought him to his own fulfillment. Rory couldn’t hold back his own cry as he spewed forth his seed with a force and fury that overwhelmed him.
Shaken by what had just passed between them, they were content to lie quiet in each other’s arms. Rory gathered Jessica into his arms and held her close, measured the slowing of her heartbeat with his hand, and buried his face in her hair.
She didn’t move, didn’t speak for so long that he thought at first she had fallen asleep. He closed his eyes against the darkness.
Far from sleepy, Jessica felt him relax, listened to his breathing as it became slow and regular. The clinical description of intercourse her father had given her when she had started her menses was worlds away from the feast of senses she and Rory had just shared. It was a wondrous miracle. A celebration of life that made her feel whole. For the first time in her life she was thankful to be a woman.
“Rory?” When he didn’t respond, she nudged him. “Rory, wake up.”
He didn’t move. “Hmm.”
“Is it always like that?”
“No.” The word was no more than a mumbled grunt against her shoulder.
Jessica frowned at the pitched ceiling. Had she done something wrong? Could it have been better? “I guess it must not be as pleasurable doing this with someone who’s inexperienced.”
He raised himself to an elbow and leaned down over her. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t really know what to expect, you know, or what to do. I’m sure it must be so much more enjoyable for you when—”
He put his finger over her lips. “Jess, I’m almost afraid to find out what making love to you will be like now that you do know what to do.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
Rory chuckled, and although he couldn’t see it clearly as he’d like, he began spreading her hair out around her like a tremendous halo. “Until tonight I never knew it could be like this. You’re a natural, Jess, so don’t give it another thought.” He ran his hand over her hip and then rested his palm possessively on her thigh. “There is one thing, though.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” In a daring mood, she linked her arm about his neck and pulled him close.
“I would have lost money if anyone ever bet me you’d be a screamer.”
Chapter Fifteen
AN HOUR LATER they snuck back into the house, careful not to let the screen door bang. Rory knew where every squeaking floorboard lay and carefully directed Jessica around them. When she turned to slip inside her room, he grabbed hold of her elbow and spun her back into his arms. She stood on tiptoe and pressed against him to bid him farewell with a luxuriously long, heated kiss.
When it ended, Rory put his lips directly over her ear and whispered, “I love you, Jess. I love you enough to abide by any decision you make, but I want you to know I’m still going to try my damnedest to get you to marry me. Especially now.” Then he let her go and turned away.
Still warm and glowing inside, Jessica closed the door, sponged herself off, and crawled into bed.
FAR TOO CLOSE to dawn, Jessica was awakened by a light, incessant tapping on her door. She struggled into a sitting position, shoved her hair out of her eyes, and grumbled, “Come in.” She could hear men shouting back and forth in the corral and a hammer clanging against an anvil. She was surprised the racket hadn’t already awakened her.
The door opened and Myra, dressed in her familiar khaki walking skirt and tailored jacket, barged in. She glanced back over her shoulder in a most secretive way before she closed the door and hurried as fast as her limp would allow to Jessica’s bedside.
“Are you all right?” Myra looked her over with a concerned frown on her face.
“Of course I’m all right.” Jessica pulled herself up straighter and jerked her nightgown closed. It seemed she’d missed a few buttons in her haste to dress in the barn. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
Myra’s obvious struggle to give her an answer was almost comical. She folded her arms, unfolded them, arched a brow, and then put her hands on her hips. “Because I couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night and thought I had heard you pacing around in here earlier, so I came in to see if you’d like something from the kitchen.” She tapped her foot against the floorboards. “I found the room empty.”
Jessica felt her color rise and concentrated on the quilt pattern. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went out to sit on the veranda. I mean the porch.”
Myra limped over to the rocker and slowly lowered herself into it. “That’s very interesting, because I went out to the porch to look for you. Perhaps I simply overlooked you in the dark, dear.” Her skeptical expression did not match her light tone.
“Well, I did stroll around a bit while I was out. It was such a warm night.” She traced the star pattern with her fingertip.
“Rory’s door was wide open.” Myra laid out the facts like a Pinkerton detective. “I noticed that when I went down the hall. He wasn’t on the porch, either.”
Her unspoken accusation pushed Jessica to respond. “Listen here, Myra. You are the one who has been hoping Rory Burnett and I would get together since the day we met. Are you now accusing me of having some kind of a midnight tryst with him?”
“Didn’t you?”
“It’s no business of yours whether I did or not.”
“As your mother’s dear friend, as your companion and friend as well, I do think it is my business to step in when I feel the need arises.”
Jessica threw back the covers and stood up. “And what about your belief in the grand scheme of life, in destiny, in fate bringing Rory and me together?”
“I’m surprised at both you and Rory. I thought him a far more responsible man. Falling in love and getting married is one thing, my dear. Becoming a soiled dove in some haystack, as romantic as that may seem, is quite another. And don’t try to deny it. You have hay stuck in your hair.”
Jessica’s hand flew to her hair, where, sure enough, she found bits of hay. She lowered her voice, unwilling to have their discussion overheard. “What I did, Myra, was simply take some of your own advice—I just took it a little farther than either of us anticipated. I’ve decided to live life, to savor it, to wallow in it before it’s too late. So don’t fault Rory. Ever. He wants to marry me, Myra, in the worst way, but I’m the one who won’t agree to that until I know what my future is with the museum.”
“But—has something happened I don’t know about?”
Jessica walked over to the secretary to retrieve the letter from Gerald Ramsey. “Rory brought this from Cortez yesterday. Beckworth is pressuring Ramsey about my progress. If they become too disgruntled, I may have no future at all with the Harvard Museum.”
Myra handed the letter back without reading it and shrugged. “Well, at least then you could marry Rory.”
Jess
ica walked over to the window, drew aside the colorful rug, and looked out into the barnyard, hoping for a glimpse of him. She saw Woody Barrows shoeing a big bay horse. “By default? I don’t want it to be that way, Myra. I plan to succeed on this dig, and then, after I’ve returned to Harvard with the find, I’ll make a decision.”
“And you’re sure Rory Burnett will understand?”
“I hope so.”
I truly hope so.
Jessica turned back to Myra. “Now that the Fourth of July celebration is over, I can get back out into the field. Rory promised to take me up to the mesa and today I plan to hold him to his word. So if you will excuse me, I’ll get dressed. If you see him anywhere, please tell him I would like to leave as soon as possible.”
“Before you leave this room, I suggest you brush all the hay out of your hair.”
“I expected more understanding from you.”
“I’m sorry if I seem to be stepping in where my opinion isn’t wanted, and I don’t suppose you’ll give me your word that you won’t carry on again the way you did last night—”
Knowing Myra only had her best interests in mind, Jessica was unable to stay angry. “I can’t make any promises. That’s what I told Rory last night and he was able to accept it.”
“I hope you’re doing the right thing,” Myra said as she headed for the door.
“I do, too,” Jess whispered to herself. As she watched Myra leave the room she repeated, “I do, too.”
“RORY?”
At a workbench along the far wall of the big barn, Rory pushed his hat back and looked over his shoulder at Fred Hench. “What?”
“Gathers was tryin’ to round up that copper stallion you wanted brought in an’ the danged thing jumped the danged fence and took off like a bat outa hell.”
As far as Rory was concerned, no one could do any wrong that morning, not after the time he’d spent with Jess last night. He put down the split-ear headstall he’d been attaching to a bit and looked toward the open doorway. All morning he’d hung around the barn half hoping she would wander in looking for him.
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