“Please,” she breathed. “Let me.”
He groaned faintly, and she traced his length, his hand resting atop hers. “You’re killing me here,” he muttered.
She lifted his free hand and placed it over her thundering heart. His little finger teased the turgid peak still protected by that sheer lace. He scraped his finger over and around that tight little point, and she moaned, her fingers clutching him spasmodically. “Matthew.”
He tugged the two halves of lace apart, exposing the high swells to his eyes. The lacy confection drifted down her elbows. She let go of him and the bra whispered to the floor. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, his knees feeling like rubber. Curving his palms around her thighs, he pulled her closer until her knees met the bed. “I’ve dreamed about these legs of yours,” he admitted gruffly. “Wrapped around me. I’ve dreamed of touching you like this.” His fingers slipped up beneath the taunting little truffle. “Tasting you.”
Her breath whistled past her teeth. “I’ve had dreams, too.” Her hands smoothed along the heated golden skin stretching across his massive shoulders. “I’ve never...felt...like this.” His tantalizing touch swirled and she thought she might go up in flames. She’d never dreamed...never expected the drugging madness sweeping through her. Had she even lived before this moment? “Oh...Matthew.”
He pulled her head down to his. Their tongues tangled. She wrapped her arms around him, marveling that she had the power to make this man, so strong and proud, tremble in her arms. His open mouth burned along her jaw, closed over her earlobe. His breath was harsh in her ear, and delight danced along her limbs. His palms slipped over her bottom. “Part your legs for me, Jaimie.”
She shivered like a leaf borne on the wind. She inched her feet apart. His fingers urged more. She could do nothing but follow his lead.
Matthew kissed her again and slipped his palm over her. Her fingers clutched his shoulders. He groaned softly, nudging aside the moist lace. A soft keening cry escaped her lips. His eyes snared hers. Her eyes were deeply green, the pupils dilated. He murmured her name, letting his fingers delve into her slick heat.
She whimpered, her head falling forward. Her hair tumbled over him as she arched against his hand. His breath hissed between his teeth when her searching hand closed over him, matching the slow, drugging rhythm he’d set. He caught a tight nipple between his lips and tugged gently. She cried out, moving urgently.
“Enough,” he growled, tugging off the sexy panties and tossing them aside. He reversed their positions and she sank onto the bed, holding her arms up to him. The diamonds circling her wrist caught the subdued light and glistened.
“Please,” she breathed.
Sheathing himself, he came down to her, holding his weight on his arms. He groaned, bowing his head when he nudged against her swollen flesh.
She moaned.
“Look at me.”
Her heavy eyelids lifted and she stared into his eyes as he slowly filled her. A tear slid from her dark eyes and disappeared in the firetipped hair spread around her.
Tight. Wet. Oh, she was so tight He flexed and her lips parted on a soundless cry. “Am I hurting you?” Please no. Stopping now just might kill him.
Her legs hugged his hips. “Don’t stop,” she gasped.
He took her hands in his, linking his fingers with hers. He pressed them gently to the mattress beside her head and slid fully home.
His mouth swallowed her harsh gasp. Then she was straining closer and closer, driving him to the edge of sanity. He loved the incoherent sounds welling in her throat. Would remember to his dying day the way she absorbed him, savored him. Moved with him.
His jaw locked as her muscles suddenly clenched. She cried his name and he looked into her beautiful, glowing eyes. His feeble control had no defense against the sight of her exquisite pleasure, and he felt everything within him, everything he was, straining for her.
Boneless, Jaimie pressed her lips to his chest as Matthew went rigid, his back bowing. Tears leaked from her eyes, but she didn’t care. He collapsed with a heavy groan, and her arms cradled him to her. Then he shifted from her, pulling her tightly against him.
Long minutes passed. He left the bed for a few moments then returned, sliding her boneless figure against him. When their breathing had slowed, and their bodies had cooled enough for him to drag a blanket over them, he thumbed the tear tracks drying on her face. “You should have told me,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
There was no point in pretending she didn’t know what he meant. “Would it have made a difference?”
He breathed deeply, his broad chest moving beneath her palm. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Jaimie closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the steady beat of his heart. “That’s what I thought,” she whispered.
He brushed her hair away from her cheek and finally, exhausted, satisfied and warmly twined together, they slept.
Chapter Twelve
Once again Matthew found himself oversleeping. It must have something to do with the person who’d shared his bed, he acknowledged wryly, as he read the note Jaimie had left him. She’d already gone over to the hospital.
He sprawled back on the rumpled, tangled sheets, covering his eyes with a bent arm. So much for good intentions. He knew what it was like to be obsessed. He’d conquered his penchant for poker, though. Hadn’t he? Which meant that he could conquer this...need...for Jaimie, too. And he would. Soon.
Right now, though, it just wasn’t in him to be sorry for what they’d done. The regret could come later.
Right now, he felt like he’d tasted heaven.
He dropped his arm with an oath. He wasn’t going poetic, was he?
He got out of bed and took a quick shower, trying not to acknowledge the wish that Jaimie was still here in the room. In the shower with him. He’d been stupid enough to think that one night would satisfy him.
A week of nights wouldn’t satisfy him, now that he knew. Knew how the earth rocked when she opened herself to him. Generously, seductively. Giving everything she was to him.
He stared at himself in the foggy mirror over the sink. He needed a shave. And though he’d had his first decent stretch of sleep in weeks, he still looked haggard.
What could she see in him?
He peeled off the wet bandage over his healing cut and dropped it in the trash. She was young and vibrant. Beautiful and sassy. She belonged in the city. Not on the ranch. Where life wasn’t easy or soft and gentle. Where calves died in the ice and snow. Where even his mother hadn’t been able to survive.
He raked his fingers through his short hair, leaving it standing in spikes, and turned to find his clothes.
One night, he reminded himself as he yanked on his jeans. One. Night.
The door opened and Jaimie slipped inside. Her cheeks were rosy. From the cold or from last night, he didn’t know.
“I thought you might still be sleeping,” she said, setting the room key on the dresser. She held up a small white paper bag. “I brought coffee.”
He slowly finished buttoning his jeans, then took the foam cup she held out. “Thanks.”
She blushed and busied herself with removing her coat and hanging it over the back of a chair.
Matthew’s eyes caught and held on the sway and gleam of her hair. He jerked his attention to his coffee. “How’s Maggie?”
“Better. Her OB was already there this morning. Maggie knows she’ll have to stay here until the baby comes. She’s not exactly thrilled, but it’s necessary.” Jaimie sat in one of the upholstered chairs near the window and lifted the plastic lid off her coffee. She cautiously sipped, then smiled slightly. “This place is a tad nicer man—”
“Yeah.” Matthew didn’t need any reminders of the other time they’d shared a room.
Her gaze grew thoughtful. Then she turned her attention back to her coffee. “Will you be able to take care of your business without your truck?”
He stared at her. �
��Oh. Yeah.” He set aside his cup and snatched up his shirt, shoving his arms into it. “I’ll get Dan or Jefferson to drive up and get me later,” he said.
She set her own coffee down and pulled her hair away from her face, letting it cascade down the back of her shirt. The movement drew Matthew’s attention to the thrust of her breasts beneath that textured weave. Her lacy bra peeked out from beneath a pillow that had fallen to the floor.
He stifled an oath. One night did not include the morning after. No matter how soft and sexy she looked. “What about you?” he asked abruptly. “Do you want to stay here or go back?”
“Joe plans to stay,” she said after a moment. “Unless you need him at the ranch.”
“No. We’ll manage.” Matthew didn’t know what he’d say to his foreman when the time came. He’d always made a point of staying out of Joe’s personal business. But after what he’d learned, he figured sooner or later he’d have to. And wasn’t that ironic when he himself had taken the virginity of the man’s little sister last night, with nothing more than the promise of a good night’s sleep in return?
“Matthew, are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Her shoulder lifted. She reached out and touched the brim of his hat that sat on the table beside her. Beneath the snug shirt, her breasts moved enticingly. Pink rose in her cheeks. “You seem...I don’t know. Tense, I guess.”
He watched her slender finger smooth over his cowboy hat and knew he surely was tense. In fact, he felt like a rubber band stretched five times too tight. And the only relief in sight was her. He picked up the coffee. Maybe if he concentrated on the tongue singeing he’d get from drinking it, he’d get his mind above his belt.
Jaimie stood up suddenly and yawned. “I guess I’ll come. With you back to the ranch,” she added when he shot her a startled look. She squelched the nervousness bubbling inside her. Matthew was tense enough for the two of them without her adding to the mixture. She couldn’t contain another yawn, and slid a look toward the bed. She could use another hour or two of sleep. Perhaps if she used the room across the hall that Matthew had originally intended for her...
Oh, who was she kidding? She didn’t want to climb into bed for sleep or anything else. Not unless Matthew was there with her.
What a foolish thing she’d done. Foolish and wonderful and perfect. If only she had some experience with “morning afters,” she’d know better how to behave. When she’d awakened beside him, she’d been so close to waking him...begging for his love...that she’d had to leave the warmth of his arms, if only to retain some small portion of her dignity.
Even now, all it would take would be one crook of his finger, and she’d willingly go to him.
Instead, she would go back to the ranch for as long as they needed her. She’d take care of his house. Prepare his meals and wash his clothes. And she’d save their one night together to keep her warm in the lonely nights ahead.
She capped her coffee, leaving it on the table, and picked up her coat. “Well...”
The corner of his lips lifted, but Jaimie couldn’t see any humor in his clear eyes. In fact, the only thing in those barely blue eyes was the same heat that had been there in the wee hours of the night.
Her fingers curled.
“What are you going to do when you leave the Double-C?”
She felt the blood drain from her head. “What?”
“After Maggie’s back up to snuff,” he said. “What do you plan to do?”
Her breathing started up again. For a moment she’d thought—She moistened her lips. “I’ll play it by ear,” she managed truthfully. “I thought I’d try to find something here in Gillette. I think Weaver is pretty well tapped out. Colbys doesn’t need waitresses and the general store and the café aren’t even open full-time.”
“You don’t want to go back to work for Bennett?”
“No, thanks. I’d go back to Phoenix before I’d work for that octopus-armed man. I guess even attorneys aren’t above the desire to play chase-around-the-desk.”
“What kind of work would you want?”
Jaimie shrugged, feeling suddenly restless. She didn’t want to think too closely about when she left the Double-C. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why?”
He frowned into his coffee. “No reason. I’ve just seen the way you gravitate toward kids. You know. That night when we got snowed in at the motel. And then those kids in the waiting room.”
“Well, yes. I like kids. But...”
“But what?”
“Oh, nothing. Just something my dad used to tell me.”
“What’s that?”
She was ready to shrug it off. But he watched her steadily, and she realized that Matthew really wanted to know. He was truly interested in what motivated her. She rubbed her forehead. “I loved to baby-sit when I was a teenager,” she finally said. “And I thought about going into teaching or something. But Dad, well he discouraged it.” Talk about an understatement. “He insisted that I needed a business degree if I was going to get anywhere in life.” Of course, she hadn’t ever earned that degree, either. And even if her dad had lived, Jaimie knew that she still wouldn’t have gotten a business degree. She’d hated every minute of her classes.
“The schoolteachers in this world would probably disagree with that,” Matthew pointed out reasonably.
“I know. He just kept telling me to...get a real job.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I guess if you hear something often enough, you start to believe it.”
“Maybe if you found a job that you really enjoyed, you’d be able to stop searching. There’s plenty of things you could be doing that involves kids. I know a lot of people in Gillette.”
And a good word from Matthew Clay could probably about guarantee her a job somewhere. “I’ll find something,” she assured him. She always did.
“I never said you couldn’t. I just—” He sighed. “If you needed something, once you...go. All you’d have to do is ask.”
Of course he would want her to have some means of supporting herself. Matthew wouldn’t turn a dog out into the cold, much less his...what? What term did she use to identify herself now? Soon-to-be-former temporary housekeeper? One-night stand?
She surreptitiously wiped her palms down her jeans. “I’d better get back to the hospital.”
“I suppose so.”
She had to walk by him to get to the door. She paused. “Matthew, I...I wanted to say that I...” She closed her eyes, and her ears started to burn. “Thank you for last night,” she finally whispered. “For being there.” She swallowed. “No one has ever—”
“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t thank me, like I did you some favor. We both know I didn’t. And we both know that I’m standing here wanting you just as bad as ever. Worse, because now I know how it is between us.”
Her legs went weak.
“You’d better go to the hospital right now, sweetheart.”
She stood there, unable to take a step to save her soul.
He cursed softly, his knuckles white around the foam cup. “Jaimie.”
She set aside her coat.
“You don’t want to do this.”
“And you don’t know as much as you think you do,” she returned.
He shook his head. “This is madness,” he muttered. “Unadulterated madness.”
Jaimie shored up every bit of courage she possessed and reached out. She took his coffee from him and set it aside. Then, painfully aware of his absolute stillness, she slowly pushed his shirt back off his shoulders. “Can’t we have this one day, Matthew? One day without should-haves and shouldn’t-haves?”
His head tilted back and he heaved a sigh. Then he looked down at her. “What am I going to do with you?”
She smiled faintly, gliding her palm over his forearm. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
His half chuckle was wry. “No doubt.” He ran a possessive hand over her shoulders, then cupped his palms over her breasts.
“You wear these thermal shirts to torture me.”
She struggled for breath. “No. They’re warm.”
“They’re tight. Like you are.” His breath warmed her neck and his teeth captured her earlobe, nibbling gently. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Her fingers slid through his hair. “The only thing I’m sure of right now is that if you stop, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Well, now I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You’re not wearing any.” Her fingers were busy fumbling with his fly, and Matthew wondered if it was some new kind of torture specifically designed to make him crazy. He swallowed a groan and captured her hands. “Lift.” She raised her arms, allowing him to remove the body-hugging shirt.
He’d thought he could take his time. Leisurely explore her body. But as her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, settling like silk over her breasts, all visions of long, slow, languid loving flew out of his mind.
Jaimie gasped when he swept her off her feet and tumbled her onto the bed. Their clothing disappeared in a fluny. His urgency set off an answering chord within her, and she clung to him, crying out when he took them on a head-long race to heaven.
When they finally fell back on the mattress, dazed and exhausted, Matthew scooped her close to him. “You should be illegal,” he murmured against her temple.
Jaimie tightened her arms around his slick shoulders. Pressing her head to the uneven beat of his heart, she closed her eyes. “You, too,” she whispered.
Just before supper time, Jefferson arrived to drive Matthew and Jaimie back down to the Double-C. Jaimie left Maggie in the hospital with her assurances of returning within a few days with Maggie’s own nightgowns and toiletries.
The tension in Maggie’s face hadn’t eased, even though the baby seemed to be out of danger for the time being. Jaimie knew how Maggie dreaded staying in the hospital. But for the safety of the baby, her sister-in-law would endure anything. Heaven knew that these last seven months hadn’t been a walk in the park.
The Rancher And The Redhead Page 19