“No,” she said with a saucy smile. “I want to watch you strip.”
Libby sat up in bed with her legs crossed and watched as Clay reached for the snap on his jeans, flicked it open, then slowly pulled the zipper down. He skinned off his jeans to reveal black, thigh-length jockey shorts, which cupped him very lovingly and left very little to the imagination.
“Come here,” Libby said, patting the bed beside her.
“I’d rather be here,” Clay said, pulling Libby’s legs straight, shoving her back onto the bed, and putting himself prone on top of her, supporting his upper body on his elbows. “I’m not too heavy?”
“No.” Libby welcomed Clay’s weight. She put her arms around his shoulders and ran her hands up into his hair. “Do you realize we’ve never made love in a bed?”
“I remember having my bare butt in the grass more than once,” Clay said with a grin.
“You could have stayed on the blanket,” Libby said.
“It would have cramped my style.”
Libby laughed. “Maybe we should grab a blanket and head outdoors.”
“I’ve grown to like my creature comforts,” Clay said as he settled his hips more firmly in the cradle of her thighs. His hands played with her hair as he leaned down to kiss her deeply. He raised his head and kissed first one breast, and then the other. “You’re so beautiful, Libby. So perfectly formed.”
Libby blushed. If he thought her breasts were perfect, she wasn’t going to argue with him. Or point out the silver stretch marks on her belly from her pregnancy. She gave herself up to the moment, breathing in the scent of him, feeling the weight of him, tasting the uniqueness of this particular man, with whom she’d fallen in love once upon a time.
Clay lifted his head from the breasts that had stolen his attention and looked down at her with stormy gray eyes. “I want to make love to you, Libby. I want to put myself deep inside you and—”
Libby kissed Clay to cut him off. What he said sounded wonderful. It was a fantasy she’d imagined for many years coming to sudden life. All she had to do was say yes, and her dreams would become reality.
“Let me love you,” Clay murmured against her lips.
“We agreed—”
“We made the rules,” Clay said. “We can change them. Say yes.”
“Yes,” Libby whispered. She wanted the dream to come true. Whatever the future held, she would handle it.
Clay’s sudden smile lightened her heart. “I don’t know where to start,” he said, his smile becoming a grin of delight.
Libby laughed. “Kissing is always nice. Touching is way up there with my favorite things—”
Clay took possession of her mouth as his hands moved upward along her rib cage toward her breasts.
Libby’s body arched toward him, as she reached to caress his shoulders and back.
“We don’t need these anymore,” Clay said, making short shrift of her bikini underwear.
“Or these,” Libby said, returning the favor as she shoved Clay’s briefs down over his buttocks far enough for him to kick them down and off.
“Are you protected?” Clay said.
“Does it matter?” Libby asked.
“Not to me,” Clay said. “So long as you don’t mind getting married sooner, rather than later.”
“I don’t remember hearing a proposal,” Libby said. “Did I miss it?”
He stopped and looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Libby. Will you do me the honor of becoming the next Mrs. Blackthorne?”
“That was hard to miss,” Libby said.
“You haven’t answered me.”
“Ah,” Libby said, responding to Clay’s touch in a particularly sensitive spot.
“Was that a yes?” Clay asked.
“Ah,” Libby said, as she reached between Clay’s legs to return the favor.
There was no more discussion as Libby concentrated on touching Clay’s body and enjoying his caresses in return. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be adored, to have her body treated as something precious, to have a man touch and taste as though she were the most special person in the world.
And she’d forgotten how it felt to find such pleasure in touching a man, feeling the play of muscle and sinew beneath firm male flesh, and the wonderful coarseness of Clay’s beard as he rubbed his face against her breasts. And then there was the aphrodisiac she found most arousing of all—Clay’s so evident desire for her.
Libby was almost embarrassed by how wet she was when Clay slid a finger inside her. His grunt of satisfaction made her smile to herself. It was plain that she wanted him, that there was no reason to wait any longer to join their bodies.
Clay met her gaze as he lifted her with both hands for his thrust. Libby rose to meet him, crying out as he sank to the hilt within her. His mouth caught her cry, and Libby arched toward him, wanting to give, wanting to receive.
Could it possibly have felt this good when she was sixteen? How could she have forgotten this enormous pleasure? Clay was doing things with his hands, with his tongue, with his body, that aroused her beyond bearing. She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t catch up.
“Clay!” she cried.
“Come with me, sweetheart. Come on, love.”
Love words in the midst of lovemaking. Clay hadn’t used them when they were young. Maybe he hadn’t known how. Maybe they’d seemed silly then. Libby relished them now. They raised her higher. They made her feel cherished.
He took his time coming to climax. Which gave her longer to find her own pleasure. Libby felt Clay’s muscles tighten beneath her hands, felt her own body begin to spasm and followed his urging to leap into the abyss.
She heard him cry out at the ultimate moment, and exulted in the pleasure she’d brought him, and the joy she’d found herself. Their chests heaved in unison, gasping enough air to keep them alive. Clay sank onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his embrace, shoving her hair back from her forehead to plant a tender kiss in its place.
Libby smiled to herself as she brushed a dark curl back from Clay’s sweaty forehead, too exhausted even to lift herself up to kiss him in return.
“How about sharing whatever it is you find so amusing,” Clay said.
“That’s joy you see, not amusement,” Libby said. “I’m happy.”
“Good,” Clay said. “I’m happy, too. Especially when I consider the fact that we have an entire weekend ahead of us.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Libby laughed aloud.
Clay leaned close and kissed her mouth ever so softly.
“What was that for?” Libby asked.
“Just because,” Clay said. He turned her so her rear end was spooned into his midsection and settled his hands beneath her breasts.
A moment later, Clay realized she was asleep. And that she’d never responded to his proposal.
As Libby yawned and stretched in bed, her hand brushed against naked male flesh. Her eyes popped open, and she looked beside her. Clay was lying face-down, dead to the world. Libby smiled to herself. The two of them hadn’t gotten out of bed at all Saturday except to nourish themselves, before returning to the activity that had left them so famished.
It was no surprise that she’d slept past noon today. They were both exhausted from trying to make up for twenty years in twenty-four hours. She didn’t want this interlude to end. She’d been living in a cocoon of happiness since Friday. She didn’t want to break out and rejoin the world.
Libby took a strand of her hair and used it to tickle Clay’s nose. He brushed at it, grunted, and turned over. Libby grinned. The poor man was exhausted.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered as she kissed his shoulder. When he ignored her, she said, “Clay, we have to get up.”
“I wouldn’t be so sleepy if a certain sex maniac hadn’t kept me up all night.”
Libby laughed. “Open your eyes, Clay. It’s morning.” She glanced at the clock and said, “Actually, it’s past noon.”
Clay turned over to face he
r and pressed his mouth softly to hers. “And that’s important because?”
“I’m hungry,” she admitted.
Clay laughed. “I’m not surprised.”
“And it’s time to go back to the real world.”
“Which reminds me. You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Don’t be coy,” Clay said quietly, looking into her eyes. “Will you marry me, Libby?”
Libby opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The worst thing was, she had no idea why she was hesitating. Clay seemed ready to commit himself to her. Their lovemaking over the weekend had exceeded even her happiest memories. Why couldn’t she just say yes and move on to the next stage of her life?
“I’d like some time, Clay.”
He laid her flat, then leaned over her, his brow deeply furrowed, his eyes full of concern. “I thought we’d already talked all this out, Libby. I thought you were willing to forgive and forget and move on.”
“I thought I was, too,” Libby said. “You must admit this has all been very sudden, Clay. We’ve waited this long, a few more days shouldn’t matter.”
“How few?” Clay asked.
Libby eased away and sat up. Then, suddenly embarrassed, she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness. “As many as it takes.”
“How many is that?” Clay persisted.
“Don’t push me, Clay.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m asking.”
“And I’m telling you I want some more time to think.”
Clay turned his back on her and reached for his briefs.
“What are you doing?” Libby asked.
“I’m giving you time to think.”
“You’re leaving?” Libby asked incredulously. “Right now?”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up that you’re going to marry me if you’re not.”
“I just asked for—”
“I know, you just need time,” Clay interrupted. “So I’m giving it to you. I’ll leave the car for you. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I’m flying back to Austin.”
“What if I want to fly back with you?” Libby said.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Clay said as he pulled on his jeans and sat down to put on his socks.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid if we’re alone together on that flight I’ll say something I’ll regret,” Clay said, reaching for his shirt and slipping it on.
“You’re angry because you’re not getting what you want, when you want it,” Libby said flatly.
“We Blackthornes are like that,” Clay said as he tucked his shirt in, then zipped and snapped his jeans and buckled his belt.
Libby stared at Clay, who looked completely put together, while she was still sitting naked under a sheet. “I can’t believe you’re running away. Again.”
“I’m not running away,” Clay said. “I’m giving you the space you asked for. Believe me, if you come running in my direction, my arms will be opened wide to catch you.”
Libby wanted to leap into his arms right then, but his abrupt, dismissive behavior seemed to preclude that sort of spontaneity. “I’m afraid if you leave, this interlude will be over.”
“This interlude is over,” Clay said. “But you still have the rest of your life. All you need to do is make up your mind to spend it with me.”
As Libby stared, openmouthed, Clay strode across the sunlit room and out the door.
16
Kate paced the air-conditioned eight-by-eight-foot concrete space, then pounded on the thick metal door again. She thought she must be in one of the thousands of storage units around Austin that UT students used to store their stuff. This must be one of the better-built, more expensive ones, because no sound was getting past the heavy door. The air-conditioning vent was too small and too high to be an escape route. She’d been left here with plenty of water but no food. Even so, she was more frightened than hungry.
Kate wondered where she was, wondered what day it was. Surely the weekend was past. Surely her parents or Jack or someone would come looking for her and discover she was gone.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she paid attention to Jack’s warnings? She wondered if Donnie was one of Jack’s suspects. She hoped Jack came looking for her and caught the little bastard coming here to retrieve her. She would have settled for rescue from anyone, but she especially wanted to see Jack.
She wondered if he was thinking of her. She wondered if he’d tried to get in touch with her over the weekend after all, and had realized that she’d disappeared. That was wishful thinking. Even if Jack hadn’t been able to reach her, he would have assumed she was with her family. Who assumed she was with Jack.
Kate realized she was totally responsible for the dire situation in which she found herself. She’d arranged it so she would be alone for the entire weekend. No one would be looking for her. Which had given Donnie the opportunity to kidnap her and not be discovered.
She wondered what he planned to do with her. She guessed maybe Donnie might want to exchange her for his own father. Based on what she saw on television, that demand wasn’t going to be met. The police didn’t negotiate with terrorists.
Her parents must be frantic.
At least they would be together.
Kate slumped down to the floor. She needed a plan for escape when Donnie finally showed up. The room was entirely empty except for a plastic jug of water. He’d taken away her shoes and belt, so she didn’t have anything with which to fashion a weapon. The only idea she could come up with was to stand behind the door when he opened it and slam it back into his face.
Kate had no idea how much time had passed, because Donnie had also taken her calendar watch. Which had been a gift from her dad.
Kate sniffled.
She swiped at her nose with her sleeve. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. She couldn’t count on anyone else to help her. She had to help herself.
The sound of a key in the lock brought her scrambling to her feet. She raced for the door, but it opened before she could get behind it. She considered throwing herself at Donnie to knock him off balance, until she saw the very large gun pointed at her stomach, which did a quick somersault.
“Glad to see you decided to come back,” she said, hands on hips. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Donnie, but—”
“Shut up and turn around.”
“Why should I do anything you say?” Kate retorted. “You haven’t treated me very well, considering—”
“I don’t want to put a bullet in you, Kate, but I will. You have a chance to survive if you cooperate.”
Kate didn’t really believe he intended to let her live. But getting shot right now didn’t sound like the way to go. She turned her back to Donnie, expecting him to tie her hands and lead her out to the car.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“I need you to cooperate, Kate. This will all be over soon.”
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, confused by his answer, and smelled the sickening scent of whatever it was he’d used the first time to put her out.
Kate exploded into action, whirling with fists extended to shove Donnie aside and break for the door. She took only one step into the blinding sunlight before the hand not holding the gun arced around her face, and he covered her entire face, eyes, nose, and mouth, with a soaked pad.
“Help!” Kate cried. Her plea was muffled behind his hand. Kate heard a gunshot, close enough that she could smell gunpowder. She waited to feel pain, but there was none. Before she lost consciousness, Kate thought she heard a familiar voice.
“Mom?” she croaked. Then everything went black.
Libby woke early on Monday morning. Alone in her bed at the Four Seasons in Austin. She groaned and turned over. Why did she always have to make everything so difficult? Why couldn’t she just do things the easy way? She couldn’t believe she’d let Clay walk out the door and leave her at his
family’s hunting cabin after he’d proposed marriage.
She’d had a lot of time to think yesterday on the long drive back to Austin. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone Sunday night. Not Clay. Not Kate. Not North. She’d simply retreated to her room to lick her wounds. And catch up on all the sleep she’d missed over the weekend.
Libby stretched. She wasn’t going to sit around this hotel room moping. She would know the right decision to make about her future when she knew it. Until then, she would work on separating Kate and Jack. Libby would have a heart-to-heart with her daughter and point out the difficulties of marrying someone she hardly knew. It ought to be easy to make her argument for waiting to marry when she pointed out the pitfalls that she and Clay had run into, even though they’d known each other for years.
Libby hunted down her cell phone and called her daughter, hoping she’d be able to reach Kate and make arrangements to get together today. She wasn’t exactly surprised when Kate didn’t answer. Apparently, Kate and Jack had opted for a weekend alone somewhere. Perhaps they hadn’t allowed their idyll to end yet. Libby hoped her daughter was doing better negotiating romantic waters than she’d done herself. She left a message asking Kate to call her back.
Then she called Clay, even though she hadn’t yet made up her mind what to tell him. Luckily, he didn’t answer his phone, either.
“Hello, Clay,” she said when his voice message ended. “You can contact valet parking at the Four Seasons to pick up your car.”
Libby made a final call to her brother North. Even though she expected him to be out working on the ranch, she called the house, because she knew he didn’t carry a cell phone with him. To her surprise, he answered.
“I didn’t expect to reach you,” Libby said.
“Then why did you call?”
“I wanted to talk to you, I just didn’t—Never mind,” she said. “I wondered how you and Jocelyn are getting along.”
“Fine. Are you all right, Libby?”
Libby cleared her throat and said, “Clay asked me to be his wife.”
North hesitated for so long, Libby asked, “Are you still there?”
The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) Page 24