The Taming Of Reid Donovan

by Pappano, Marilyn

  She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned instead to the kids, separating her own class from the younger bunch. If she had waited, Cassie might have told her the truth: that Reid had already broken her heart. Every time they talked, every time he confided some incident from his past, every time he got a certain look—a scowl, longing, boyish embarrassment—her heart ached. And every time he touched her, each time he kissed her, each time he got certain other looks—arousal, amusement, need—the ache went away, replaced by an emotion too strong, too sure, to mistake and too important to put a name to.

  Apparently Jaye’s experience with heartache had been of a different nature. Cassie wondered about the particulars. She didn’t know much about her fellow teacher. She wasn’t even sure how Karen knew the woman. All of the volunteers had some connection to Karen’s old social-worker days, except for Susannah Sinclair, whose husband had been best friends with Karen’s first husband, and Cassie, who’d heard of Karen through Jolie. Actually, though, Cassie knew all she needed to know about Jaye: that she was dedicated, she was wonderful with the kids and she could afford to live on the salary Karen could afford to pay. She knew that she liked the other woman. What else mattered?

  Getting what they were hoped were two decent photographs took a half hour of class time and an entire roll of film. By the time they were satisfied and herded the kids back inside, there was less than a half hour left in the school day. Cassie used it for reading aloud and was grateful when Jaye’s knock at the door signaled the end of class. After seeing the kids home, cleaning the room and grading a stack of papers, she gathered her things and headed across the street. As she cut through the bar, she wondered if Reid would be upstairs, as he’d promised, or if sometime in the past ninety minutes, his version of common sense had kicked in and sent him running to the nearest exit.

  At the top of the stairs, as she fumbled with her books, papers, camera and keys, she got her answer. She knew the feeling of anticipation racing down her spine, knew the look that was responsible for it. She didn’t turn around but unlocked the door and swung it open as she commented, “I half expected you to be gone.”

  “I got as far as the bottom of the stairs.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  In the heavy silence that followed, she finally turned to face him. He was leaning against the doorjamb, wearing clean jeans and a T-shirt. His damp hair and the sweet fragrance of her bath soap indicated that he’d taken a shower in the hour she’d been gone. The familiar scent made her smile. He’d taken to using her soap, and she had begun using his. She liked the clean, no-nonsense smell, liked being reminded of him every time she caught a whiff of it. Apparently he felt the same.

  Or maybe he just liked the scent of jasmine.

  At last he shrugged. “I wanted to see you. I wanted...” Another slight, helpless shrug.

  Wanting. In her life, she had almost always gotten what she wanted. She’d had a safe place to grow up, a stable home, parents who loved her, siblings who doted on her. There had never been any question that she would finish high school and go to college, that she would have the ability to support herself comfortably without having to resort to the physically demanding, low-paying jobs that were often the only option for so many women. She’d had friends and boyfriends, had been given respect and acceptance and allowed pride and dignity. She’d had the luxuries of time, money, love and security. She had been blessed.

  It had been a different story for Reid, though. Through most of his life, he’d been denied the very basics that every person had a right to. He’d done without a decent education, without true friends, respect, pride and security for so long that he no longer expected them. But he wanted to be here with her. He wanted...

  She smiled faintly. He wanted exactly the same thing she wanted.

  Crossing the hall, she reached past him, nudged him aside and closed the door to his apartment, then retraced her steps and went into her own place. She left the door open behind her and laid everything she carried on the couch before turning to see if he’d followed her. He hadn’t, not quite. He had come to the top of the stairs, though. Only one more step would bring him to the doorway. Only another after that would bring him into the room. “Please come in.”

  For a moment, he still hesitated, then he walked into the apartment and closed the door. That simple act seemed to shrink the room by half and draw the air right out of it. Suddenly she felt warm, and her chest was too tight to manage a deep breath. But that was all right. What did she need with air when she and Reid were alone in her apartment and he was looking at her as if she was the most important woman in his life?

  Breaking the stillness, he reached behind his back to secure the lock, then slowly moved toward her. Cassie felt a tremendous urge to skitter away, and she almost gave in to it. Instead, she swallowed hard, nervously smiled and remained where she was. She wasn’t scared. Whatever happened in the next few minutes—the next few hours—she trusted Reid. She trusted him with her heart. She could certainly trust him with her body.

  He stopped a breath or two in front of her and caught her hands. Her palms were damp, her fingers gone cold in spite of the day’s heat He held them tightly for a moment, his bigger hands wrapping completely around hers. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not. I’ve never been afraid of you.”

  That brought a rueful smile from him. “I’ve been afraid of you since the first time I saw you.” Then the smile faded, and he became heartachingly serious. “I would never hurt you.”

  “I know. I would never hurt you, either.”

  He accepted it with another of those little shrugs, as if he weren’t quite convinced but didn’t figure it was worth arguing. “You said we could pick up where we left off later. I believe your hands were here—” he placed them at his waist, and she automatically curled her index fingers through the empty belt loops of his jeans “—and mine were...” Just as he’d done earlier, he started at her waist and slid his hands upward, but this time he moved oh, so slowly, lingering on her breasts long enough to make her nipples ache, long enough to spread heat and need and make her shudder, then along her throat, finally reaching her cheeks. He cradled her face in his workroughened palms, his thumbs gently stroking, and he bent his head until his mouth touched hers. “Here,” he finished, his voice little more than a whisper before he kissed her.

  It was the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced—gentle and restrained, delivering plenty and promising so much more. It made the nerves in her stomach tighten, made the butterflies there kick into aerobic high gear. In need of support, she released her hold and slid her arms around his waist, snuggling close to him, leaning against him. His body was strong and hard, his arousal particularly so. The feel of it, so long and powerful against her belly, fascinated her...and scared her, too. She’d meant it when she said she had never been afraid of him, but what they were about to do...she was afraid of that. No matter how much she wanted it, no matter how wonderful she knew it would be, she was scared. It was so important. For both their sakes, it had to be so special.

  As she became utterly content with the kiss, the intensity changed. It became harder, more demanding, stealing what little breath she could catch, sending an incredible weakness through her body. Her muscles were taut, her nerves quivery, and her skin rippled with a raw, edgy sensation that wasn’t entirely comfortable but was more than desirable. She had naively believed that she was familiar with arousal before, but she had never experienced anything like this. She had never felt so feverish, so fluttery and purely womanly, so wanton and selfishly greedy. She had never felt so passionate, so far from serene, so close to losing control.

  When he ended the kiss, she clung, unwilling to give up such pleasure. Only the certainty that there was more to come, so much more, gave her the strength. He drew his hands down her body, making her burn everywhere he touched and shiver everywhere else. At her waist, he began unworking the knot in her shirttail, slowly loosening the fabric, taking hi
s own sweet time for no reason, she suspected, but to make her nerves hum with impatience. In an effort to hurry him along, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat. He swallowed hard, and his fingers fumbled.

  Liking the response, she kissed him again, this time moistening his jaw with her tongue. He muttered a soft curse that ended in a groan as she kissed his ear. Between them his hands became motionless, their task forgotten. Still teasing him with little kisses, she brushed his hands away and untied the knot herself, then raised his hands to her shoulders, inside the shirt. He pushed it down her arms, sweeping it off and letting it fall, then gripped her upper arms and forcibly moved her a few steps back. He looked adorable, clearly aroused and, at the same time, clearly determined to give her every chance to back out. “Are you sure...?”

  “Yes.” She offered nothing else—no reassurances that she knew what she was doing, no declarations of love that he would find difficult to accept, no promises of no-stringsattached that she couldn’t keep. Just a simple statement of fact. She was sure. She wanted this—wanted him—more than he could imagine. More than she could find words to express.

  He studied her face for one long moment after another, then gave a sigh. It brought her relief because he wasn’t going to walk away. It seemed to bring him confidence that she spoke the truth.

  Before they went any further, she cleared her throat. “I am sure, Reid, but I, uh, I’m not...not prepared. I know most single women are—at least, most of my friends are—but I’ve never done it before, so why would I be? Even though I know it’s important to use something, I wouldn’t even know what to get—”

  He cut off her nervous words with a kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth, before answering. “It’s all right. I’m prepared.” Claiming her hand, he pulled her across the living room to the bedroom. The windows were open, a light breeze lifting the sheer white curtains, bringing the faint scents of flowers, springtime and sunshine into the room. Her dresser was still across the street in the school’s storeroom, along with the bookcase she intended for this room, leaving her with no furniture at all besides the unmade bed. With its thick white comforter spread haphazardly and a half-dozen fat pillows tumbling all over, it dominated the room. Under the circumstances, she thought with a smile, it would dominate even if it were surrounded by clutter.

  Reid stopped beside the bed and looked at her. In his eyes was appreciation, uncertainty and a lot of desire. Reaching out, he hooked one finger underneath the thin strap of her tank top, then let it slide down beneath the fabric, teasing the swell of her breast, until he reached her arm. “I like this,” he murmured, his voice husky.

  The tank certainly left little to the imagination. It fitted so snugly that she rarely wore it and never without a shirt or jacket over it, because it left her feeling so exposed. Exposed, she knew now, wasn’t necessarily a bad way to feel. In a few more minutes, she was going to be much more exposed and loving every second of it.

  Loving every second with him.

  Still stroking beneath her shirt, he came closer and bent his head. Just before his mouth made contact, she tilted her head back, leaving his kiss to fall on her jaw. Her eyes drifted shut, the better to enjoy the pure, sweet sensations from his mouth and hands—the pleasure so new, the need so intense, the pain so unexpected. By the time he undressed her and laid her on the bed, her entire body was trembling. By the time he stripped off his own clothes and joined her, she was beyond waiting, beyond sweet words and gentle seduction. A great throbbing emptiness had consumed her, making her ache, reducing her to pleading for relief.

  Reid moved between her legs, his hands planted on either side of her head, supporting his weight above her. He looked so serious, so intense, as if he, too, were empty and in need of filling. “It might hurt,” he warned before moving, and it did, despite his gentleness. For just a moment her body burned, then pain gave way to satisfaction. He filled her, stretching her, and it felt so sweet, so strange and yet natural.

  For one long moment after another, he remained motionless, giving her body a chance to adjust to his. It was an effort for him, evidenced by tight muscles, ragged breathing and the rigid set of his jaw. She quickly grew impatient as the initial satisfaction gave way to stronger need. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him move inside her, to thrust and withdraw and thrust again, to treat her to that sweet, foreign pain of needing and not having, then to ease it, to bring her satisfaction that could make her weep.

  “Please, Reid,” she whispered, and he trembled so fiercely that she felt it deep in her belly. “I want...” That was all she could say. It was enough.

  Falling into an easy, ever increasing rhythm, he used his mouth, his hands and his body to coax her, to tantalize and torment her. He taught her new meanings for pleasure and pain, and when it grew to be too much, when the entire experience became more than she could bear, he taught her a brand-new, breath-stealing, heartaching meaning for satisfaction.

  And love.

  It was a slow night in the bar, a fact for which Reid was grateful because he was far too preoccupied with the apartment upstairs where he had left Cassie in bed. He’d wanted to stay there with her, had stayed there, just watching her, marveling over her, until he risked Jamey coming upstairs to find out why he was late taking over the bar. He had never been so reluctant to leave a bed or a woman before, but he had forced himself to get dressed and leave with a sweet kiss and a promise for dinner later.

  That had been over an hour ago, and he had spent the time waiting restlessly behind the bar. He had served a few drinks, wiped a few tables and tried to distract himself with the newspaper, but he’d had little luck. All of his attention was focused upstairs, listening for the slightest creak, for the sound of running water or the light tread of steps on the stairs. He kept picturing Cassie as he’d left her, naked, drowsy, long legs tangled in the covers, long hair tumbling across the pillows. He kept remembering the way she had felt underneath him, the way her body had resisted, then welcomed him, the way her muscles had tightened and quivered, the way she had looked so soft and incredibly satisfied when they were done. It had been so damn hard to leave her, but as soon as he got off work, he could go back to her.

  He managed a faint smile. That was a new experience in his life—having someone to go home to. Knowing that Cassie would be waiting for him, that she would wonder if he was late, that she would miss him if he didn’t show. In all his life, there had rarely been anyone to notice, and never anyone to care. But she cared.

  Movement across the room caught his attention. He looked that way as a slender woman, her arms filled, came through the doors. She didn’t glance at any of the customers, but came straight to the bar, stopping directly in front of him.

  “Hey, Alicia.”

  She didn’t return his greeting until she’d climbed onto a bar stool and settled the baby she held more comfortably. “I don’t see you around much, Reid.”

  “I’m easy to find.” It wasn’t as if he had many places to go. His life was about as simple as it could get. If he wasn’t at the garage or the bar, he was in his apartment or, lately, with Cassie. Anyone who wanted to see him easily could, but he doubted that Alicia really wanted to. Since Ryan’s murder last September, she had become even more isolated than Reid. She had quit her job, cut off her friends, holed up in her grandmother’s apartment with the baby and rarely come out. She was a little hopeless, Cassie had said Saturday, but that was an understatement. As someone who had lived without hope for the better part of his life, he recognized utter hopelessness when he saw it, and he saw it all over Alicia’s face.

  Opening the cooler, he took out a couple of sodas, poured one into a glass and slid it across the bar to her. “How’s the baby?”

  She didn’t glance at Sean, didn’t shift him from where he slept with his head on her shoulder. “He’s fine. He’s crawling and teething.”

  “He must keep you busy.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. Her grandmother had
confided in Karen that she was taking care of Sean, that Alicia just wasn’t able. All Alicia did was grieve. There were days when she didn’t bother getting out of bed, times when she couldn’t rouse herself enough to care that the baby was hungry or needed changing. Karen and the center psychologist had visited her a number of times, but they’d had no success. She wasn’t sick, Alicia had insisted. She was just so very sad.

  “I’m going to California,” she said, both her words and her blunt, abrupt manner surprising him. “I have an aunt in Los Angeles who said I can stay with her. I’m going to start over there.”

  Reid stared at her. Leaving Serenity had long been one of her goals, but after Ryan’s death, he had figured she would never make it. She would stay here forever, mourning what she’d lost, building Ryan into far more than he’d ever been in reality and living the rest of her life with the illusion. If she did get out, he’d thought she wouldn’t go more than a few miles from the place where Ryan had lived, certainly no more than a few miles from the place where he was buried. But California and starting over... That was quite a change.

  And the queasiness deep in his stomach warned him that she planned to make it alone. It was written in her lifeless eyes, in the thin, hard set of her mouth, in the lack of caring that shadowed her face. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What about Sean?”

  For a moment, she avoided the question. Instead, she held the baby out, the sudden movement waking him. “You want to hold him?”

  He stared at the kid, his bare feet dangling a few inches above the bar. He had never held a baby before, had never gotten closer than being in the same room with one. After a moment, though, he took the baby, cradling him awkwardly in his arms. As babies went, he was a cute one, dark eyed and dark haired, like his parents. He had his father’s leanness, his mother’s delicacy and a solemn, wide-eyed look all his own. He wasn’t very big—not even an armful—but he seemed healthy and content to lie where he was.