“I’m here for my own reasons, Clay,” Jocelyn said. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I…”
At that moment, North started to release her. She drew a relieved breath and then realized why he’d loosened his hold. His hand eased up to cup her breast.
She gasped and stared down at the offending gesture. And then looked at Clay, who was already charging North.
She held up both hands and cried, “Clay! Stop!”
He barely managed to rein himself in, stopping when her extended hands caught his shoulders. “What the hell is going on, Jocelyn?” he demanded. “I want to know why you’re here.”
“I came here because I…” She realized that if she didn’t come up with a convincing story, the two men would end up fighting—until one of them was dead. “Last summer Libby introduced me to North and I…I felt something different for him than what I’d experienced with you. With the wedding coming up—and after the way you shut me out this morning—I…I wanted to see if what I felt was real.”
“What are you saying?” Clay asked.
She saw the hurt on his face, proof that he believed the lie she was concocting. She couldn’t say more, afraid of closing all doors to reconciliation when September came. “I can’t marry you, Clay. Not right now. I need to find out—”
“He won’t ever love you, Jocelyn,” Clay said. “He’s incapable of love. Like all his kind. He’ll only use you, hurt you. For your sister’s sake, come home with me, please.”
The invocation of her sister’s name was like a stab to the heart. Jocelyn was not so hysterical that she didn’t realize what Clay had failed to say. That he loved her. That he would cherish her. But they’d never said those three words to each other. They’d simply been understood.
Now she might never hear Clay say “I love you.” Or be able to say those precious words to him. Why had she waited? Ever since her sister’s illness, she’d been aware that time was fleeting. She put a fist to her chest to counter the hurt inside.
“I have to stay, Clay,” she said. “I need to know if…if I’m making the right choice.”
“I won’t take you back when he’s done with you,” Clay shot back.
Jocelyn’s vision blurred and her nose pinched with tears. “I’m sorry, Clay. I have to stay.”
“You heard her, Blackthorne. Get moving.”
“Come with me, Jocelyn,” Clay pleaded. “It’s not too late. I need you.”
Jocelyn wondered if she would have ripped herself from North’s arms if Clay had said I love you instead. She could hardly blame Clay, though, for not baring his heart in front of his mortal enemy. She was no better. She’d never told Clay how much she loved him. She opened her mouth to say it now and realized it was the wrong time for such a confession. It could only result in pain for Clay if she stayed with North, and danger if he decided to fight North for her.
“Good-bye, Clay,” she said.
He stared at her for another moment, his heart in his eyes, before he turned and marched to his car without looking back.
Jocelyn’s nose burned and she felt a hot tear slide down her cheek. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”
The porch light went out and a strong arm pulled her back from the kitchen door as it closed. She sagged against North’s arm, and when his hold loosened, jerked free. She ran for the door and yanked at the knob. “Clay!” she cried. “Come back!”
But North’s hand was there to cover hers and keep the door closed. She could hear Clay’s tires spinning on the gravelly dirt road as he tore away from North’s ranch house.
“Let me go!” she cried. “I want to go!”
When he stepped back, she yanked open the door. But it was too late. Clay was gone.
“Leave if you want,” North said, coming up behind her. “It’s no skin off my nose.”
She whirled on him and pounded on his chest. “You’re the most ruthless, inhuman—”
“You made the deal, honey,” he snapped back, catching her wrists and holding them tight. “I just went along for the ride.”
“I love him!” she cried. “I love him, and now he’s going to hate me.”
“Good!” North said savagely. “Revenge is a dish I like hot and smoking.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she snarled at him. “I wouldn’t sleep with you now—”
She was off her feet and in his arms so fast, she grabbed hold of his neck to have something to hang onto. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked.
“We have a bargain, honey. And I’m going to collect on it.”
Jocelyn grabbed two handfuls of his hair and yanked as hard as she could.
“Ow!” he said. “That hurts!”
“Put me down,” she said in a feral voice. “Right now. Or I’ll do worse.”
He set her on her feet and took a step back. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes, chests heaving.
“I never thought you’d have the guts to go through with it,” he mocked. “That’s why I agreed to the deal.”
Jocelyn felt an unbearable ache in her chest. She’d ruined everything. Now, not only would Clay hate her, but his family would lose Bitter Creek. North was right. She was a coward. But she didn’t see how she could make love—have sex—with a virtual stranger. Someone who clearly disliked her as a person as much as he desired her as a woman.
But if she didn’t follow through on her bargain, the consequences would be terrible and irreversible.
Jocelyn was not, in fact, a courageous person, but she did know how to make sacrifices. She’d been doing it all her life. For her father. And her sister. And now for Clay.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said.
“Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove anything.”
“Then you’re reneging on the deal?”
She looked him in the eye and said, “Where’s the bedroom?”
3
Jocelyn gasped, and then couldn’t seem to catch her breath, as North scooped her back up into his arms. The house was larger than it looked from the outside, and North had stalked his way down several corridors before he passed into an earth-toned room so spartan she knew it must be his. He hit the light switch at the doorway with his elbow and soft lights came on near the bed and the chest.
A patchwork quilt covered an old four-poster, which looked too small for North, let alone the two of them. He crossed to the bed, ripped the quilt and top sheet away and dropped her onto the bed so she bounced twice.
Jocelyn realized with horror that there would be no way to hide her virgin’s blood on North’s pure white sheets. Maybe, if the room was dark, he wouldn’t notice, and she could change the sheets before he discovered the truth.
She braced herself for his weight, but he merely stood beside the bed staring down at her. For an instant, she allowed herself to believe that he’d changed his mind about wanting her. That she was going to get a reprieve.
Then he reached for the zipper on his jeans.
“Wait,” she said, reaching out a hand in supplication.
“For what?” But the zipper stayed where it was.
She stared in fascination as he shrugged out of his shirt instead, revealing a perfectly sculpted body, except for his left shoulder, where the artist’s chisel had slipped and left a raking scar. As he reached for the zipper again, she quickly scooted off the bed and stood facing him.
“Shouldn’t we talk first?” she asked, keeping her eyes focused on his face. That wasn’t altogether satisfactory, because his gaze was heavy-lidded, his lips full. He was clearly ready to do what he’d brought her here to do.
“What else is there to say?” he said, reaching out to tug on one of the ties at her throat, releasing the bow. “This must be choking you.”
“It’s fine.” Jocelyn reached up to stop him, but he’d already released the button at her throat and the one after that, and her hand met bare skin. The next two buttons were undone before she had the
presence of mind to cover his hand with her own. She flushed as she realized he was staring at her bra—her incredibly provocative Victoria’s Secret bra—which covered just enough to titillate the imagination.
His lips formed a smirk as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “The way you had that bow tied so tight at your throat—and that fiery hair of yours all bound up like that—I wouldn’t have figured you for sexy underwear.”
Jocelyn flushed hotly and reached up self-consciously to smooth her auburn hair back into its elegant French twist. But as usual, not a hair was out of place. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
He reached behind her and began pulling out pins. She batted at his hands uselessly, and a moment later, heavy curls fell past her shoulders. She opened her mouth to rail at him and stopped short when she saw the look of shock—and awe—on his face.
“There’s not a damned thing wrong with your hair. Now.” He reached out a reverent hand and caressed a silky curl.
She quivered as his knuckle brushed her breast.
He rubbed her hair between his fingers as though it were spun copper silk. “I can’t imagine why you’d hide something so glorious.”
Jocelyn had needed to be adept at hiding her charms. A political hostess wasn’t a sexual being. Or at least shouldn’t be. She was appalled to think what North would say when he saw her pristine white garter belt with the silk bows, her lacy white underwear and her silk nylons. It didn’t make sense to wear something so utterly feminine, so specifically intended to arouse the male libido, when she had no intention of undressing in front of anyone.
But she’d never been brave enough for overt misbehavior. Unconventional underwear had become her rebellion against all the rules of proper behavior she’d so circumspectly followed her entire life.
Her secret was about to be revealed. In a very big way.
North eased the blouse out of her skirt, his hands going around her, making her aware of the height and breadth of him, as he pulled the fabric out in back. She held her breath until his hands no longer surrounded her. He took his own sweet time unbuttoning the last few buttons.
She was still clutching the sides of the blouse around her middle. He eased it off her shoulders and then tugged it out of her grasp and dropped it onto the floor, leaving her standing before him in a white demi-cup bra that lifted her breasts up as though they were dessert on a plate.
It seemed he was intent on having the main course first, because a moment later, her breasts were nestled against his chest, as he reached around her to undo the button on her skirt. She held her breath as he eased the zipper down. Before she realized what he intended, his lips tenderly caressed her bare shoulder.
The kiss was surprisingly sensuous, and she shivered in excitement at the damp touch of his mouth.
“Are you cold?” he asked, lifting his head to look into her eyes.
She lowered her gaze, ashamed to admit the bald truth. Instead she said, “A little.”
“Let’s get you undressed and under the covers.”
“I—”
As her skirt slid down to her ankles, he took a half step back and muttered a profanity.
She stepped out of the skirt and stood before him with her hands at her sides, resisting the urge to cover herself. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, but he didn’t give her any choice when he put a finger under her chin and said, “Look at me, Joss.”
Her head jerked up at his use of the shortened name, and she was surprised to see him frowning. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“How long have you been planning this?”
“Planning what?”
“To seduce me in exchange for selling Clay my stock.”
“I didn’t plan anything,” she protested. “I heard Clay’s family arguing about how they were going to lose Bitter Creek and decided on the spur of the moment to come here and—”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth!”
“You expect me to believe you get up every morning and put on stuff like this—” He snapped one of the garters against her leg. “—under those prim clothes you wear?”
“Believe what you want,” she said, feeling the heat of another blush on her throat.
His lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, Miss Montrose.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m very much looking forward to finding out what other surprises you might have in store for me.”
A lump of cold dread lodged in Jocelyn’s stomach. If North was talking about sexual acrobatics in bed, he was far off the mark. She was willing to go along with whatever he wanted from her, because that had been the deal, but she couldn’t guarantee she’d be the kind of lover he wanted. Certainly not, if he was expecting someone experienced in providing physical pleasure.
“You can get rid of the heels,” he said. “And the rest of that getup. My tastes don’t run that way.”
Jocelyn wasn’t sure what way he meant, but she hurriedly stepped out of her high heels and reached down to undo the garter that held up her left stocking.
“On second thought, I’ll take care of that myself,” he said.
As he bent over, Jocelyn braced one hand on his shoulder, feeling the play of muscle under her hand. She caught her breath at the brush of his callused hand against her thighs as he released both garters front and back.
To her surprise, he picked her up again and set her gently on the bed, then knelt on the old-fashioned tied-rag rug beside the bed to skim the nylons off her legs, discarding them on the floor behind him.
“You have big feet,” he said, holding one in his hand.
Jocelyn laughed, embarrassed, and tried to pull free. “What do you suggest I do about it?”
He held onto her foot, looked up at her and said, “I like the fact you’re tall. You’ll fit me better. And you need feet this big to balance the rest of you.” He let go of her foot, stood, put his hands on her waist and stood her upright once more. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his hands on the garter belt.
Jocelyn was still trembling with shock at the feel of his powerful hands on her bare flesh as she reached for the hooks at the back. “I’ll take it off.”
“Easier for me to do it,” he said, reaching around her to release it. He held it out for a moment, shook his head, and tossed it away as he had the other garments.
Jocelyn wished she hadn’t worn such tiny bikini panties. It would have been nice to be wearing granny cotton ones right now, because North’s glance focused on her navel, then slid down to the right, to something else no man had ever seen.
“What’s this?” he said, laying his hand on her hip, so that what he was looking at was framed by his thumb and forefinger against her skin.
“Exactly what it looks like,” Jocelyn said.
He met her gaze and smiled. “I didn’t figure you for the kind of woman who’d have a tatt, either.”
The tiny blue and yellow butterfly tattoo had been yet another defiant impulse, something she’d done after her father had chastised her for being too friendly with one of the younger diplomats who’d attended a dinner party at their home. As with every other gesture of mutiny in her life, it had been invisible to anyone except her.
She lifted her chin and said, “I like it.”
He grinned and said, “I do, too.”
The boyish grin disappeared so quickly Jocelyn thought she must have imagined it.
North’s face was completely sober as he reached for his zipper once again. This time, Jocelyn heard the rasp of it coming down. He’d already hooked his thumbs in the top of his jeans and underwear when she jumped into bed, turned away from him and pulled the covers up over her shoulder. She heard the rustle of denim coming to rest in a heap and then North’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor.
She realized he was moving to the opposite side of the bed and lay back flat with her eyes squeezed tight and the covers pulled to he
r chin.
“Don’t be coy, honey,” he said in a harsh voice. “I haven’t got anything you haven’t seen before.”
Jocelyn barely managed to avoid blurting, “Oh, yes, you do!” Instead she said, “Would you please turn out the lights?”
“Not on your life,” he retorted. “I intend to see what I’ve paid for.”
He gave one good hard yank, and Jocelyn was left lying totally exposed on the bed wearing only her bra and panties. She felt North sit on the side of the bed and waited with bated breath, eyes squeezed tightly closed, for whatever came next.
To her surprise, she felt his hand playing with one of the auburn curls on her shoulder. She finally had to breathe, and exhaled as quietly as she could before gasping another lungful of air.
“Open your eyes, Joss. I want you to know it’s me making love to you. Not some other man.”
Considering no other man had ever made love to her, Jocelyn wasn’t going to be making any comparisons. But North didn’t know that, and she wasn’t about to give him any more ammunition to make fun of her—or make his revenge against Clay that much sweeter. She could get through this without North ever finding out she’d come to him a virgin. She just had to endure.
And wash the sheets before he got a good look at them.
She opened her eyes and stared up at him, relieved that she couldn’t see anything that might have caused her to blush and expose her ignorance—and innocence. She was startled to realize his blue eyes no longer looked icy. They reminded her now of the sea off some sandy island beach, light and warm and inviting.
“You’re very beautiful,” he said. “But you know that.”
No one had ever told her so. She hadn’t realized how erotic such words could be. She felt even more tense. And her insides were twisted up, doing something they’d never done before.
North’s fingers continued playing with her hair, but his eyes were focused on her mouth. She opened her lips slightly and realized they were dry and slid her tongue around to wet them.
The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) Page 4