by Diane Saxon
“This is mine, I want it back.”
“You’re so possessive…and greedy. Want, want, want. It’s all I hear from you.”
She lifted the Stetson from her own head and placed it on his, then whipped the T-shirt up her body and over her head, flicking it onto the floor. Her naked breasts touched the firm flesh of his muscular chest.
Her fingers, ever busy, released the five buttons on the fly of his jeans, and when he raised his hips so she could remove them, her mouth dropped open and her heart beat a rapid tattoo. Oh, dear Lord, he was ready again, and he’d left his underwear behind and had the gall to have a new condom in place already like he didn’t trust her to do it.
“A little presumptuous, I think.”
“If I left it to you, you’d probably destroy the rest of the condoms and we wouldn’t be having any more sex tonight.”
His long, slow smile made her heart warm and her loins melt like butter. She obligingly raised her backside off him, so he could wriggle the rest of the way out of his jeans and wrangle them down his legs to kick them off his feet, accompanied by the loud clunking of his boots as they hit the floor. Before he’d settled properly, she had her hand around his penis and her lips caressing his ear.
She stroked him, feeling the hard, hot length of him in the palm of her hand, and thrilled at his low throated growl.
She held on to his broad shoulders, raised herself up and slid down onto his shaft in one fluid movement, delighting in making his eyes roll to the back of head and his growl turn to a groan.
“I won the Women’s National Rodeo Finals two years running.”
“I know. I was there.”
She gave a smooth gyration of her hips, slid down a little further and had his breath coming in short bursts, making her grin.
“I managed to last the full eight seconds every time.” She gave a little rotation and knew he couldn’t possibly get any deeper.
He gave a sharp snort, placed his Stetson back on her head and pushed his hips up to meet hers, sending her nerve endings into a riot of sensation as he proved her wrong.
“I hope you can last longer than eight seconds, darlin’.”
With a slow, confident smile, she ran the tip of her finger down the length of his nose, then touched it to his firm lips. “Oh, I can, question is - can you?”
She started a rhythmic rocking motion with a little twist at the end of each move, watching his face closely. She rotated her hips, pushing down on him so he penetrated deeper. Small pulsing waves radiated out each time she made the right move and hit her sweet spot.
“Bailey…” His voice rumbled out deep and guttural, full of desperation.
She was too far gone to take any notice. Sebastian moved his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbed steadily across her nipples to whip her into a frenzy.
Lost in him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, touched her lips to his and emulated her rocking motion with her tongue. His hands stroked over the sides of her breasts, kneaded her back, and then strayed down to her ass, pulling her in tighter at the end of each thrust so the pulsing waves turned into a tsunami. Shockwaves pounded out from her center in a heated fury until, with one final lunge, they clung, motionless, hearts pounding, lungs heaving.
»»•««
The sound of the telephone ringing jarred Bailey’s senses, and she reached out blindly to answer it, sliding out from under the heavy weight of Sebastian’s broad shoulders.
“Hello?” Her whisper came out low and throaty.
“What time is your flight?”
“Umm.” Her eyelids fluttered in confusion.
“Bailey. Were you still asleep? I cannot believe it. It’s seven-thirty.”
She glanced at her watch on the bedside table. It was six-thirty. The cowboy behind her gave a restless move, reached out a hand and soothingly rubbed her hip.
“Bailey?” She shuffled away from the comforting warmth.
“Yes, Phillip?” Sebastian sat upright, tried to catch her eye. Guilt prompted her to turn away, as she tucked the phone under her ear.
“What time will you get here?”
“I’m sorry, umm…your mother…last night, your mother told me the wedding was off.”
“Don’t be stupid. Why would she do that? Of course the wedding isn’t off. You must have misunderstood. Don’t you dare humiliate us any further. You get on the next flight out of New York and be here ASAP.” She heard him breathing in through his nose, rapid panicked breaths. “I said what time is the next flight?”
“I don’t know, Phillip. I’ll check with the airline and get back to you. I’ll let you know what time I’ll be there, once I sort things out this end.” She picked her engagement ring out of its box and slid it onto her finger.
Her bedroom door slammed and her heart lurched. All that was left of Sebastian was the warmth from his body on her sheets.
Chapter Five
It didn’t matter, she’d made her decision. She was going to see Phillip. How could she possibly let everyone down at this stage? Her mom and daddy were expecting her. She hadn’t heard from them yet, but if they had met up with Phillip and his parents the night before, when she was supposed to have been there with them, there was no way they would know she’d made a mistake. No way anyone could know what had happened between herself and Sebastian.
Poor Phillip, she couldn’t allow him to suffer the humiliation. She would go and see him, explain to him she couldn’t possibly still marry him. It wasn’t necessary to tell him what she had done, it would only hurt him further. She might even have to go through with a sham engagement so he could pretend it was him calling the whole thing off and save face. But she could no longer marry him, not now she had been with Sebastian. Not now she realized the truth; that she could never love anyone other than Sebastian.
Her heart gave a painful lurch as she thought Sebastian probably didn’t really mean he loved her. He had only said it right in the middle of sex, and then seemed to regret it immediately. Locking himself in the bathroom had been a dead giveaway, despite the fact he had come to find her again. It was probably just about the sex for him. The likelihood was, Sebastian was going to leave anyway, and she was going to be left with nothing. Not even second best, now she had made her decision not to marry Phillip.
Her lips trembled as she tried to muster up a smile for herself. She met her own eyes in the mirror. Dark brown despair, swamped with tears. She raised her hand with a bunched up tissue to dab at the corners of her eyes, desperate not to smudge her perfectly applied make-up she’d spent the better part of the last two hours applying.
Her world screeched to a halt on its axis as she stared at the hand wrapped around the tissue. There was no ring.
“Shit.”
The ring was missing.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God. Oh shit.”
In a wild panic, she whipped her gaze around the bathroom, frantically patted the side of the sink as though she expected it to suddenly appear under her fingers where she couldn’t possibly see it. It was a monstrosity. How could she miss it?
She dropped to her knees, smoothed her shaking hand over the black and white tiled floor, along the edge of the bath, the base of the toilet.
“No, no, no.”
Desperate, she tried to control her anxiety with slow, deep breaths. She hauled in oxygen through her nose, puffed it out slowly through her teeth. She came to her feet and cast her eyes slowly and thoroughly around the room.
“Think. Think.” She breathed in heavily through her nose, blew out through her lips again…and again.
The last time she could remember seeing the ring was when it had winked at her accusingly as she sat on the toilet after Sebastian had slammed out of the door. She had stared at it for an eternity, her heart numb and her brain foggy, despairing over her predicament.
She whipped up the toilet lid and peered inside. The ring was surely too heavy to flush away. It would be on the bottom of the bowl.
Nothing.
She placed the lid back down, sank on to it and leaned against the cistern with her legs splayed out in front of her, her knees knocking, her feet turned in at the ankles and her big toes touching.
If Phillip could see her now, he would think she was far more than simply vulgar. She sighed heavily and made her brain work. She pictured herself, wandering naked into the bathroom after speaking to Phillip, turning on the shower to give it time to warm up and sitting on the toilet to relieve herself.
Her eyes popped open. The shower.
She leaped up and pushed the shower door inward, stepped into the cubicle and scanned the base of the unit.
There. It was there, behind the shower door.
She slid the door closed and bent down cautiously to retrieve the enormous, glinting rock. She slipped it reverently onto her ring finger and slumped back against the tiled unit, as her bones melted with relief. Her shoulder-blade touched the controls behind her and a powerful deluge of icy water sprayed on to her head and streamed over her body.
“No!” She screeched as she leaped forward. “No!”
In her blind panic, she reached for the door and hammered on it, pushing desperately with all her might while her sopping curls sprung loose from their confines, fell to her shoulders, clung to her face and dripped down her perfectly pressed and repaired designer suit.
With a howl of frustration, Bailey grabbed the cubicle handle, shook it, gasping with horror as the door flew open toward her, and smacked her straight in the forehead. She clutched her head with both hands and staggered drunkenly out of the cubicle, falling to her knees on the cold, hard tiles. The pain whipped a shriek from her. She dragged in air as she lowered her burning forehead onto the cold, tiled floor while tears of relief streamed down her face to mingle with the water dripping from her hair.
Ugly cowboy boots filled her vision. She tracked her tear-filled gaze the full length of his legs, over his body up to his face and met his wicked blue gaze.
“Whoops.”
She shoved the heavy weight of her soaking hair back from her face, swiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at the black mascara smudged across the back of her fingertips. She didn’t want to squawk like a baby in front of Sebastian, he would probably laugh, but she could feel her throat constricting so tightly it felt as though it were choking the life out of her as she desperately tried to hold back the tears. She opened her mouth to say something witty and scathing, but a loud hiccup exploded from her, rattling through her entire body.
Large, work-roughened hands reached down, took hold of her elbows and gently pulled her to her feet. Sebastian wrapped his warm body around her cold, wet one and rocked her while she sobbed, uncontrollably.
“Ah, baby, don’t cry. We’ll put it right, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”
She took comfort in the sound of his rough voice and the feel of his washed-out, soft cowboy shirt as she grasped it with freezing fingers while the damnable ring gleamed evilly at her. It was the ring’s fault. She was sure.
Sebastian’s warmth soaked through to her chilled skin, and it occurred to her she must be making him as wet as herself. She drew back and felt the reluctance to let her go in his arms, as she took a step away.
“I’m sorry. I’m making you wet.”
He stood in silence. One of the only times she could ever think where he hadn’t laughed at her or teased her, and the serious, intent gaze he directed at her made her uncomfortable.
She turned to face the mirror and inspected the damage she’d wrought on her face by both the sopping water and the crying jag.
“Oh, God.” She leaned in closer, huffed at the sight of her bloodshot eyes and her mascara streaked, tear swollen face, with a fat red welt on her forehead. She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes and she had to leave the room or miss her flight.
She dug into her make-up bag and picked out the cleanser and cotton wool, smeared the thick cream on her face and glanced in the mirror as Sebastian turned away and stepped out of the room. She heard the outer door to her bedroom give a quiet snap as he left.
Refusing to think about him, she closed her mind off, removed her make-up and slathered moisturizer onto her skin, all the time avoiding looking into her own eyes, knowing the self-recrimination she saw there would frighten her to death. She scraped back her soaking hair and tethered it into a quick, neat bun.
Finished, she let her gaze slide away from the mirror and down to the water still dripping onto the floor. As she stripped, her mind whirled, trying to figure out how she was going to dry her clothes sufficiently to get on the plane in some kind of semblance.
The only thing she could think to do was to roll her entire suit into the cotton sheet from her bed and squeeze all the moisture out, and then use the hairdryer in the seven minutes she had left. She could apply her make-up at the airport once she was checked in again.
She wrapped a large white hotel towel around her body and stepped into her bedroom. And there, on the bed lay her suitcase. The lid had been flipped open, her brand new designer suit had had the creases shaken out of it and was hanging neatly on the back of the wardrobe door. Her conservative two inch heels in black patent leather had been placed underneath, together with an un-opened packet of tights, neatly tucked between the shoes.
Her heart stuttered to a halt. She took a long, deep breath and a moment to contemplate before she ripped off the towel, flung it to one side and threw on her clothes. She had four minutes to get out of the door.
Her case in hand, wet suit neatly wrapped in a plastic bag and stuffed inside, Bailey shut the door behind her and took off down the hallway at a sharp clip.
The little old lady wearing a fox fur and tweeds, opened her door, took one baleful glance at Bailey, stepped back inside and shut her door again with a resounding click.
Bailey slipped the room key into the quick exit box and dashed out of the hotel and down the snow lined footpath in her sensible flat booties and her warm woolen coat. Her smart heels resided comfortably inside her thankfully oversized purse.
»»•««
Bag checked in, make-up applied, strangle-hold on her hair and glittering rock safely in place on her finger, Bailey sat serene and composed waiting for the announcement of her flight.
No cowboy in sight.
The little flutter of disappointment turned into a desperate longing. She had no idea why she expected him to show; after all, he’d given her so many chances and she’d carelessly tossed them all away.
The lump in her chest seemed to expand, grow heavier, until she could feel it clogging her lungs and restricting her breathing.
She contemplated getting herself a coffee and quickly discarded the thought. She couldn’t risk any more accidents.
The diamond swung to the underside of her finger again and she let out a frustrated sigh and turned it the right way. It was dirt ugly. It may be worth a fortune, but it was definitely not a pretty ring. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about anything. She knew she was doing the right thing and she wasn’t going to change her mind. It was affluence, security—suffocation, dominance. No, stop.
It was right.
Her cell phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen and her heart gave a painful knock against her ribs. She kept in the sob that threatened as she answered the call.
“Daddy.”
“Sugar, are you okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“We couldn’t get you last night. I hear you’re stuck at the airport. Are you safe? Do you need anything?”
Tears took a stranglehold on her throat again.
“I’m fine. I’m going to be late.”
“That’s okay, as long as you’re safe. Don’t take any risks, sugar.”
A small cry escaped her and she covered the microphone on her cell so he couldn’t hear.
“Sugar, we met Phillip last night. I hope you know what you’re doing. He’s an asshole. And your Mom didn’t like the way his parents spoke dow
n to her.”
She gave a small hiccup and tried not to laugh as a sniffle fought its way up her throat.
“Shame you and Sebastian never married. He would have made a fine son-in-law. He’s taken a month off and gone to Maui. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him at the airport.”
Hysterical laughter blurted out and she excused herself, saying her flight had been called. Telling him about Phillip was a conversation she needed to have face to face.
As soon as she cut the call off, her cell rang again.
“Bailey.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you catch an earlier flight?”
“There was no earlier flight. The airport has only just re-opened.”
“This is not good enough. You’re going to be late.”
“Yes.” She stared at the rock on her finger, felt the numbness in her chest.
“Bailey, you better not embarrass me any further. Get your fat ass on the plane and get here as soon as possible. You’ve taken long enough, and I will not be humiliated any further.”
He paused and in the silence she listened to the steady beat of her own heart, touched her palm to her chest to check if it ached, and smiled long and slow as she realized she didn’t even feel relief that his barb hadn’t hurt like usual. She felt nothing.
“Just as a matter of interest Phillip, what size is my fat ass?”
“Huh?”
“Do you mean ‘pardon?’ Isn’t that the accepted polite way of querying what a person has said?”
Static greeted her. She imagined him grinding his teeth, his skin coloring an unattractive puce.
“I said, do you know what size lingerie I wear?”
“Bailey. This is not an appropriate conversation to have at this time. There are other people in the room with me.”
Surprise had her raising her eyebrows, her lips pursed and in the most composed voice she could muster she replied “In that case, Phillip, I suggest you tell them your fiancée and her fat ass will be unable to attend her engagement party, on account of the fact she has just called the wedding off.”