by Francis Ray
Just like he affected her.
His large hands settled on her waist, then slid up to cup her breasts. Even as she arched against his hands to increase the pressure, her hands splayed on his muscled chest. Eyes closed, she began to move, cautiously at first, then with more assurance as excitement replaced timidness. All coherent thought fled as she rode Pierce.
This was paradise; this was passion. The perfect moment. She let herself go and flew.
“WHAT IF SHE SEES ME AND KNOWS? I’LL JUST DIE.”
Pierce caught Sabra’s trembling hands. He’d followed her to her apartment to take a shower and get dressed. They’d ended up in the shower together, making love. Each time was more powerful than the last. He was tempted to strip the sweater and slacks away and bury himself deep into her satin heat again.
“Pierce?”
“It will be fine.” She wanted his reassurance. He’d give her that and more if she asked. She had a glow about her. She looked like a woman thoroughly loved and satisfied, but to tell her that would make her even more nervous about seeing his mother this morning at rehearsals. “She’ll just think you’re feeling better.”
“You think?”
“I think,” he said, and pulled her into his arms, where she had been most of the time since last night. After they’d made love for the second time and Isabella became impatient at the door, they remembered the dog sitter and called to cancel. Thank goodness it was Saturday and they could be together soon.
After the shower, they’d taken Isabella for a walk and picked up takeout from a fast-food place, laughing and giggling like kids over the repercussions they’d face if Brandon found out. He thought fast food was a heart attack waiting.
“Do you want me to drive you?” Pierce finally asked.
“No.” She stepped out of his arms. “She’d take one look at me looking at you and know.”
“That would be the same way I’m looking at you.” His hands settled on her waist again; he nipped her ear.
She sighed, then pushed against him. “Stop that.”
“If I see you, I have to touch you,” he said, meaning every word.
“Then don’t come anywhere near me until after rehearsals.” She went to his door. “You’re sure about keeping Isabella?”
“She’ll be fine. Have a good rehearsal.”
She bit her lower lip. “You’re sure she won’t be able to tell?”
“I’m sure.” The lie was for her.
SABRA WAS GOING TO STRANGLE PIERCE. IF ONE person had commented on the glow in her face, the sparkle in her eyes, ten had. That Ruth didn’t comment made it worse, not better. At least Charles got through his lines without stumbling.
“You did great today,” Sabra said when rehearsals were over.
He blushed with pleasure. “Thanks to Mrs. Grayson’s son Pierce. He’s cool.”
Her interest was piqued as they walked from the stage for the next characters to take their marks. “How so?”
“He had a rep at St. John’s as a Casanova, but he said . . .” Charles’s voice trailed off, and he tucked his head for a moment. “I don’t want to betray a confidence, but it was cool for him to help me not to be so intimidated by you. He was nice when he didn’t have to be. It’s no wonder half the women in town are hoping Mrs. Grayson picks one of them for him to marry.”
The clipboard in Sabra’s hand cluttered on the wooden floor. “What?”
Charles scooped up the clipboard and handed it back to her. Surreptitiously, he glanced around, then whispered, “Mrs. Grayson is marrying off her children, from the oldest to the youngest, one by one. Pierce is next.”
PIERCE WAS NO STRANGER TO AN ANGRY WOMAN. His mother on a roll could make any of her adult children walk easy around her. But try as he might, he couldn’t fathom why Sabra looked ready to tear into him. It certainly couldn’t be that his mother had said anything. She only tried to run the lives of her grown children. The rest of the world she left to their own devices.
He slowly came to his feet but remained behind his desk in his office. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isabella come to her feet and trot over to stand by Sabra. He got the distinct impression that if Sabra gave the command, he’d have eighty pounds of trouble to contend with.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did it for your own good,” he told her, hating that she’d been embarrassed.
“My own good?” she hissed, coming closer. “Do you think I like being made a fool of?”
There was anger in her voice, mixed with hurt. The hurt drew him from behind the desk.
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
He heard a low, guttural growl. He kept his gaze on Sabra. “I’m sorry. It’s not like Mama to comment on a person’s personal life.”
Her eyes shut, then opened. “Not that! Why didn’t you tell me you were next to get married?”
He was taken aback for all of two seconds; then he was moving. Isabella’s growl grew louder, more menacing. He speared the dog with a look. The noise stopped. The animal trotted over to her favorite spot and lay down. Sabra wouldn’t be so easily subdued.
“Come back here, and bite him,” she said.
He wanted to touch Sabra but didn’t think it wise with her in her current state. “For now, how you heard doesn’t matter. What does matter is that my mother might pick out a woman for me, but I make my own choices.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered then, and it matters less now.” His hands closed gently around her arms. “Last night should have made it clear that I care about you, not some unknown woman.”
“Does that include Raven?”
He had to work hard to keep the grin—all right, smirk—off his face. For once he could have kissed his mother for her meddling. “Especially Raven.” He told Sabra about their first meeting at his mother’s house. “She was never an issue.”
“Then why did she try to warn me away from you Monday morning?”
“What!” His eyes rounded. “This has gone too far.” He went behind his desk, then bent to get his keys out of the lowest drawer. When he straightened, Sabra blocked his path.
“I think I should tell you that she sort of relinquished her claim.”
“She never had a claim,” he snapped.
“You’re pretty angry.”
“I’m way past that. It took me a long time to get you to trust me, and now Mama and Raven want to mess things up.”
Inexplicably, the angrier he became, the more hers evaporated. “I thought you were playing me.”
His hard black eyes cut into her. “How could you think that?”
“I confused you with someone else.”
Her mistrust hurt, but how much more had she been hurt? “If I could get my hands on him, I’d teach him a lesson. He should have treated you better.”
“I survived.”
“Yes, you did.” He slowly drew her into his arms. “Are we finished fighting?”
Her arms circled his neck. “Maybe.”
“Then why don’t we go to my place, order in, and finish this discussion?”
“Lead the way.”
THE MOMENT THE DOOR CLOSED, HE PULLED HER into his arms, kissing her, trying to get her clothes off and them to the bed. She laughed, then moaned, as he swept the black lacy nothing of a bra off, then the rest of her clothes.
By the time they tumbled into his bed, they were both naked. She evaded Pierce’s reaching hands to straddle him and drop soft kisses on his chest, then went steadily lower.
“Sabra,” he said, his voice gritty.
She kissed his flat stomach, felt him tremble beneath her lips. She wondered what would make him lose control completely and dipped her head lower. In the next instant she found herself on her back with Pierce towering over her.
“Playtime over.” He brought them together. Her body welcomed him. The loving was slow, building in tempo until they could hold back no longer. He buried his face in the cur
ve of her shoulder and took them both over.
He started to move, but her arms tightened. She relished his weight on her, the delicious heat of his body, the lingering aftermath of ecstasy.
He kissed the curve of her cheek. Then, despite her protests, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. “I’m too heavy.”
She snuggled closer and ran her hand through his hair. “You feel good.”
“So do you.” He nuzzled her neck. “Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
“I guess I should feed you, but I don’t want to move,” he confessed.
Her head angled to look up at him, kiss his chin. “I don’t suppose we could call Brandon for takeout?”
“We could, but I’d have to go pick it up.” His hand swept down the elegant slope of her back.
She was already shaking her head. “If I have to give up being held by you, we’ll skip food.”
Pierce drew her up and stared in her eyes. “You mean I score higher than food?”
She kissed him on the lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” Lifting her away, he rolled out of bed and looked around for his pants.
Sabra sat up. “You’re not going out?”
He glanced up, felt his breath snag, his body harden, when he saw the hair tousled around her shoulders, her body flushed from their lovemaking. He wanted her again. Hurriedly, he grabbed his pants at the foot of the bed and pulled them on. He was turning into a sex maniac. “To the kitchen to see what’s there,” he finally answered.
“I’ll help.” Scrambling out of bed, she picked up his white T-shirt and pulled it over her head. “Hope you don’t mind.”
The T-shirt covered her to below the knees, but the softness of her breasts was evident. Plus he knew she was naked beneath. “You might be more of a distraction than a help.”
Her gaze slowly tracked from his face down his bare chest, past his unmistakable arousal, to his bare feet. “I can say the same thing about you.”
“I guess we’ll just have to chance it.” His hand reached out for hers.
LUCKILY PIERCE HAD THE INGREDIENTS TO MAKE AN omelet. Neither seemed to mind that it was over-cooked and tough. They paid more attention to each other than the cooking and considered the burned food a small price for the long, hot kisses they’d shared, the intimate touches.
Pierce was sliding the omelet onto a plate when the phone rang. Planning to get rid of the caller as soon as possible, he reached for the receiver.
“Pierce.”
“Hello, Pierce. You certainly sound happy.”
“Mama.” His gaze shot to Sabra, who was kneeling on the floor beside Isabella while the dog ate. Her eyes wide, Sabra slowly came to her feet.
“Could you do me a favor?” his mother asked. “I left a message on Sabra’s machine, but I worry that when she comes home she might not listen.”
“What kind of message?” he asked cautiously. With his mother, he could never be sure.
“Just that I won’t be able to pick her up for church services in the morning. Raven and I are taking a little trip to the pueblos, but I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Relief swept through him. “I’ll tell her. Drive carefully.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” his mother invited. “Tomorrow will be a beautiful day for a drive.”
He walked to Sabra and brushed her tumbled hair over her shoulder. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
“You don’t know what you’ll be missing.”
He knew very well. “Drive carefully. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Good-bye, Pierce.”
“Bye, Mama.” Pierce hung up the phone and curved his arms around Sabra’s small waist. “Mama won’t be able to pick you up for church services. She wanted me to let you know she’s driving to the pueblos in the morning.”
Sabra’s hands lifted to rest on his bare chest. “Alone?”
A frown knit his brow before he could stop it. “Raven is going with her.”
“She wanted you to go with them, didn’t she?” Sabra asked.
He brushed his lips across her forehead. “She mentioned it.”
Sabra nodded. She could worry about his mother’s obvious choice or enjoy the time they had together. “The food is getting cold.”
He picked up the plate. “In here or in bed?”
“You get one guess.”
Pierce put the plate on a red lacquered tray while Sabra grabbed napkins and two glasses of raspberry juice. In bed, they fed each other, then feasted on each other.
SUNDAY MORNING, SABRA WOKE UP WITH HER UPPER body sprawled across Pierce’s wide chest. His arms circled her. In the past thirty-six hours she’d spent more time in his bed than her own, and she couldn’t be happier. “You’re watching me again.”
“I can’t think of a more beautiful sight to wake up to.”
Neither could she. Pleasure swept through her, and she lifted her head. He was magnificent. But time wasn’t on their side.
His hand swept down the slope of her back. “What is it?”
She started to tell him but held back. Perhaps their interlude was all Pierce wanted or expected. “Nothing.”
His fingertip gently brushed across her lower lip. “Are you worried about the decisions you have to make for your career or what happens between us when you leave?”
Her hand caught his. He read her so well. “I’ve seen people in the business try to make long-distance relationships work, and they seldom do, causing more heartache than happiness.”
“I’ve never been one to follow the crowd.”
She could believe that. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”
His mouth tightened into a thin line. “Is that all you want?”
“No, it’s not, but I’m scared that this is all that it will be.”
“Then I’ll just have to show you differently, starting now.” He kissed her and pulled her under him, joining them with an experienced thrust of his hips. She arched upward. A moan slipped past her lips as he began to move slowly, taking his time and letting the pleasure build.
Helplessly, she locked her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and let his loving empty her mind and fill her body with erotic sensations. His warm mouth nuzzled her throat. His hand tenderly stroked her, worshipped her. As before, they found the perfect rhythm.
Coherent thought became impossible. If this was all there was, she was going to enjoy it to the fullest. She flexed her hips, took him deeper. Her hands clutched his shoulders, marveling at the restrained strength.
All too soon her body tightened. She felt his do the same. The strokes grew faster, longer, until they were clutching each other and racing toward completion. A wild exhilaration swept through her. She was made to be loved by this man.
He surged into her. She arched up to meet him. Their bodies strained to get closer. Their broken cries of release mingled as they found completion together.
PIERCE HAD NO ILLUSIONS ABOUT WHAT WOULD happen when Sierra saw him with Sabra. Unlike their mother, Sierra didn’t mind getting in other people’s business and speaking her mind about it. Nor would it have been lost on her that after she had pushed them together Friday night, neither he nor Sabra had been to breakfast or visited Brandon’s place.
He and Sierra usually talked every day. They were the last two and thus had grown even closer as their brothers married.
“Sierra is already here. Wonderful.”
Pierce didn’t comment as Sabra rushed forward. She’d been excited since she’d gone to her place that morning to change clothes and heard on her voice mail that the concierge had a special delivery package for her.
He heard the shriek along with the rest of the breakfast diners, then saw Sierra tearing open a box with greedy haste.
By the time he reached them, Sierra was holding a long white silk strapless dress with a silver and jewel loop at the waist. “Valentino.”
“I’m a
ttending a charity dinner in Los Angeles the day after I leave at the Wilshire. I was hoping you’d be my guest. My assistant booked a three-bedroom suite in case my mother and sister were able to join me. They can’t.”
Sierra’s hand reverently touched the gown. “I can’t accept this.”
Sabra leaned forward until they were eye to eye. “If there was something I wanted and you could give it to me, would you?”
Sierra’s gaze flickered to Pierce. “That was purely selfish.”
“Then see this the same way. I’m wearing black and we’ll play well off each other.”
“It’s still too much,” Sierra protested.
“If you insist.” Sabra reached for the dress, but Sierra refused to let it go. “Change your mind?”
“You knew I would. I’m paying for the dress.” Sierra took one last look and closed the lid. “Thank you.”
“Thank you and you’re welcome.” Sabra turned to Pierce. “Come on, Pierce. I’m starved.”
No wonder. They’d existed on sex and burned food. He took his seat. “Morning, Sierra.”
“Good morning.” Sierra signaled the waiter.
Pierce looked at the two women as they ordered, listened to them chat about the theater and Sierra’s plans to own her own brokerage firm. Not once did Sierra give the impression she knew what they had been doing. He breathed a little easier . . . until he saw Brandon and Faith heading in their direction.
After they were seated and had ordered, Pierce half-expected Brandon to tease him when Sabra wasn’t looking. He got another surprise. Brandon simply commented that he was glad Sabra felt better and invited her to his restaurant for dinner Monday night.
Obviously pleased, Sabra, an impish smile on her beautiful face, turned to Pierce. “Can I bring a date?”
“Only if you must,” Brandon replied with a smile.
Pierce looked at Brandon, Sierra, and Faith. They liked Sabra. He couldn’t remember any of the other women he’d dated being teased and accepted so easily. But then, he’d never brought them around his family.