Storming Whitehorn

by Christine Scott

  It took only a moment to reach for and use protection. But she tensed when he fitted himself between her thighs, forcing him to hesitate. Brushing the hair from his face, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “Jasmine? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…I want our first time to be special. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Disappoint me?” He frowned and started to pull away. “Jasmine, how can you think I’d be disappointed?”

  “Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. Before he could reconsider, she clasped her hands around his narrow waist and raised her hips off the bed, silently urging him to finish what they’d started.

  Knowing he was lost, Storm released a ragged breath and eased himself inside her, penetrating the last of her resistance.

  And heard her soft gasp of pain.

  He froze, holding himself still. His frown returning, he looked down at her, searching her face. Swearing softly beneath his breath, he already knew the answer to his question. Now he understood her hesitancy. He hadn’t realized that he was her first.

  Over whelmed by the ramifications of what was happening, he whispered, “Jasmine, I can’t. We shouldn’t—”

  “No,” she said, her voice an urgent whisper. She held him tight, refusing to let him go. “It’s what I want. I need you, Storm.”

  Unable to fight the power of both of their desires, Storm closed his eyes and gave into his own wants. He plunged himself the rest of the way into her tight, virgin flesh.

  Jasmine’s body quivered beneath him. A flush of heat spread across her skin. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to him desperately.

  He moved inside her cautiously. Her body gloved his, adjusting to the new demands. His heart pounded in his chest as his own need grew. Mindful of his responsibilities, he checked his urgency and brought them both slowly, carefully, to the edge. Then, when she was ready, with sharp, quick strokes he carried them to the point of no return.

  She shuddered at the moment of climax, closing her eyes and crying out her pleasure. He followed her over the crest, finding release in her warm, giving body.

  When it was over, he held her in his arms until her breath returned to normal and her heart slowed its rapid beat. Then, releasing her, he rolled over onto his side and sat on the edge of the bed. Dropping his elbows to his knees, covering his face with his hands, he allowed the guilt to flow over him.

  He’d acted without thinking.

  For a stolen moment he’d found solace in her sweet body.

  But for the rest of his life he would have to live with the knowledge that he’d taken advantage of Jasmine at a time when she needed him most.

  At his withdrawal, a chill settled over her. For the first time in her life Jasmine allowed her insecurities to get the better of her. Without thought of her in experience, she’d given of herself. He’d told her that he was a man of many, many experiences. It wasn’t any wonder that she’d disappointed him.

  Her body warmed with the heat of embarrassment. Unable to face him, she clambered off the bed and hurried for the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she came face-to-face with the evidence of her own folly. In the mirror, she stared at her too bright eyes, the pupils dilated with lingering excitement. Her lips were red and swollen from his caresses, as were her breasts. In the most private of places, she still throbbed with wanting him.

  Choking back a sob, she turned from the mirror and wrenched the faucet on. The water drummed against the porcelain sink, masking the sound of her tears. Her hands shaking, she splashed water on her face and tried to control her runaway emotions. Grabbing a cloth from the towel rack, she washed away the evidence of their love making.

  It wasn’t until she turned off the water that she realized she hadn’t brought any clothes with her. The thought of facing him naked and exposed nearly over whelmed her. Knowing she couldn’t hide from him indefinitely, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped toward the door.

  But she couldn’t do it. Jasmine froze, her hand on the doorknob. She couldn’t face him. Not now, not knowing just how much of herself she had revealed.

  With her back against the door, she sank to the floor, clutching the towel around her breasts. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she lowered her head to her knees and gave in to the unwanted show of weakness.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, sitting on the floor, feeling alone and miserable. It wasn’t until she heard the knock on the door that she roused herself from the depths of self-deprecation.

  “Jasmine?”

  The sound of Storm’s concerned voice almost proved to be her undoing. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  He knocked again, harder this time. “Jasmine, open the door.”

  Her voice muffled with emotion, she said, “Go away, Storm. I need a moment.”

  “You’ve had more than a moment,” he said with a tone of impatience. Thumping the door one last time, she heard the helpless sound of his sigh. “Jasmine, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known that you were a—” He stopped abruptly. Cursing softly, he said, “Jasmine, did I hurt you?”

  Heat scorched her face. Jasmine bit her lip against a flood of new tears. She’d never felt so mortified, so ashamed, in her life. “No, Storm. You didn’t hurt me. It’s just… I need my clothes. Would you mind—”

  “Of course not,” he said, sounding relieved at being given something to do. She heard his footsteps move away from the door, then return seconds later. “Jasmine, I have your clothes. But you have to open the door to get them.”

  Weak from crying, she struggled to her feet. She took in a breath of courage, then opened the door, her hand shaking on the knob.

  Storm stood in front of her, dressed only in his faded jeans, an unreadable expression on his somber face. But his eyes told a different story. There was concern in their dark recesses. Assessingly, he took in the tears staining her cheeks, the embarrassed flush of her face, the fist that held the thin towel around her body. In his hands, he held her rumpled clothes.

  Jasmine averted her eyes, unable to face him. With her gaze focused on the bathroom’s linoleum floor, she held out her free hand for her discarded clothes. “May I have my clothes please?”

  “Not until you talk to me.”

  Stunned, she looked up at him, dropping her hand to her side. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

  “Bull. I’m not letting you go. Not like this. You’re upset, and we need to talk about it.”

  “Upset? Why would I be upset?” Jasmine noted that the rising pitch of her voice only gave credence to his observation. But she couldn’t stop the agitated flow of words. “First my mother confesses to a crime I had no clue she’d committed. Then I go to bed with the man whose brother she killed.” She gave a hollow laugh, knowing she sounded on the verge of completely losing control. “It’s just been one of those days, Storm.”

  Silence strained between them.

  Then, quietly, he said, “It isn’t like you to be bitter, Jasmine.”

  “I’m not bitter, Storm. I’m just being honest. This wasn’t one of my finer examples of good judgment. But don’t worry, I’m not blaming you for what happened. We both got…” She swallowed hard, struggling to hold on to what was left of her pride. “…carried away. We simply made a mistake.”

  “Is that what you think it was? A mistake?”

  The coolness of his tone sent a shiver down her spine. She considered side stepping him, pushing past him to freedom. But along with her clothes, he held all the cards in this game of truth or dare. He had strength and size on his side.

  “What do you want me to say, Storm? That it was my fault I didn’t tell you the truth? You didn’t know it was my—” Her voice broke. She hesitated, looking down at her bare toes before saying, “My first time. I don’t blame you for being disappointed. I’m sure you were expecting so much more.”

  “That’s what this is all about?” He sounded in credulous. “You think I’m disappoi
nted?”

  She lifted her trembling chin in a stubborn show of pride, but remained silent, not trusting herself to answer.

  “Aw, Jasmine,” he said, shaking his head. Before she could react, with a quickness that took her breath away, he reached out, linked his hand with hers and tugged her into the bedroom. Capturing her waist with his free hand, he pulled her close, holding her snug against him.

  Startled, she clung tightly to the ends of the towel, looking up to see the steely determination in his eyes.

  “You’re wrong, Jasmine. What happened between us…it wasn’t a disappointment. It was special, more than I could ever explain. But you are right about one thing, though. I didn’t know it was your first time. Not until it was too late. If I had…” He left the thought unfinished, letting her imagination run wild. Sighing, he said, “If I gave you the wrong impression, then I’m sorry. But what I felt wasn’t disappointment, it was guilt. I took advantage of you at a time when you needed comfort. I didn’t deserve to be the first. I didn’t deserve the gift you gave me.”

  Blinking in surprise, she searched his face for the truth—and found nothing but sincerity mixed with remorse hidden in his eyes. Unable to stop herself, she lifted a hand and smoothed a wayward strand of hair from his face, tucking it gently behind his ear. Letting her hand linger against his neck, she felt his strong pulse beneath her fingers.

  Looking him straight in the eye, she whispered, “You’re wrong, Storm. What I said before, about making a mistake, it wasn’t true. You’re the one I’ve waited for. The only one I’ve ever dreamed of being with. Don’t you see? We were meant to be together. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers. “I won’t make any promises that I can’t keep, Jasmine. Too much has happened. I don’t know what the future holds for us.”

  She closed her eyes against the sting of disappointment. Fate might have brought them together, but it was working to keep them apart, as well. Struggling for control, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. Her voice a whisper, she said, “I’ve never asked for a commitment. I only want what you can give me. Even if it’s only a single night in your arms.”

  He stared at her, letting the silence gather between them. His dark-eyed gaze sent a trembling of awareness through her body. She held her breath and waited for him to answer.

  Finally he nodded and said, “I can give you tonight.”

  For now, she told herself, that would have to be enough.

  Twining her fingers through his hair, she tugged him close. She settled her lips upon his and felt the tension flow from her muscles. A new rush of desire billowed inside her as she let go of the pain of uncertainty in her heart, refusing to give in to her doubts. She gasped when Storm lifted her from her feet, cradling her in his arms.

  As he carried her back to the bed, she told herself for now she felt safe and wanted.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough for second thoughts.

  Instead of the darkness and gloom she had expected, tomorrow greeted her with sunshine and brightness. As the early morning light seeped in through the cracks in the curtains, the sound of quiet, careful movements roused Jasmine from a sound sleep. Lazily she stretched a hand across the bed and discovered it empty.

  Slowly opening her eyes, she blinked away the sandy grit of sleeplessness, feeling understandably tired and groggy. She hadn’t slept much the night before. Too intent on making the most of each precious second of their stolen time together, both she and Storm had found little time to rest.

  She sat up in bed and switched on the nightstand’s lamp. Her breath caught at the unexpected sight that met her eyes.

  Fully dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a long-sleeved, buttoned-down shirt, his hair still wet from a recent shower, Storm was in the midst of packing a suitcase. He stopped what he was doing and glanced over at her, his gaze wary.

  “You’re packing,” she said needlessly.

  “There’s nothing more for me here.” His voice sounded cold, emotionless. He picked up a shirt and slammed it into the case. “I’ve finished what I came to do. It’s time for me to go back to New Mexico.”

  Pain zigzagged through her heart. She inhaled a sharp breath. “I see.”

  Stopping midreach for another shirt, he studied her, as though sensing her disappointment. He made his way to the bed. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he sat beside her.

  Jasmine struggled to hide the tremors of apprehension that shook her body. The night she’d just spent wrapped in his arms seemed like a distant, almost forgotten dream. The ecstasy and fulfillment they’d shared seemed like nothing more than a broken memory.

  Though she longed for his touch, he rested his elbows against his knees and kept his hands clasped firmly together. “Jasmine, I told you last night I couldn’t make any promises.”

  “I know,” she said, her trembling voice doing little to ease the anxious look from his face.

  His frown deepened. “Too much has happened between us. Your mother, what she did to Raven—” His voice caught and he stopped, staring down at his fisted hands.

  Jasmine swallowed at the growing lump of disbelief that had lodged in her throat. She felt the sting of tears and blinked hard, refusing to give in to the lure of vulnerability. Now was not the time for weakness. She must be strong. She must face the future. Even if that future promised only loneliness and heart ache.

  He took a breath, releasing it on a sigh. “There’s just too much to forget, too many obstacles to overcome. We would never be able to put everything that’s happened behind us. It would always stand in our way.”

  Not we, Jasmine answered silently. You, Storm. You are the only one who cannot forget.

  Jasmine knew without question that if the roles were reversed and Storm’s brother had been the one to hurt her family, she would find a way to forgive him. She would not allow a mistake from the past, something that he had no control over, to ruin their chance at happiness. She would do whatever it took for them to be together.

  But she wasn’t Storm.

  She hadn’t lived a life void of love and security.

  Her family had cared deeply for her. They’d built her life on a foundation of concern and confidence. Unlike Storm, she’d never experienced the pain of being alone and unwanted.

  Jasmine looked at him, her resolve melting as she saw the uncertainty that lined his face. His eyes moved restlessly, unable to meet her gaze. While the words he spoke were cold and flat, she knew there was a fire storm of emotion burning in his heart.

  But it was hopeless. For thirty years Storm had survived by avoiding the very thing she longed to share with him—a close and loving relationship. She would not try to change his mind. No matter how much she wanted it to be different, she wouldn’t beg him to stay.

  Instead she stroked the powerful lines of his face. “It’s all right, Storm. I understand.”

  He lifted his eyes, his gaze hesitant.

  She smiled, despite the pain tearing her heart in two. “We’ll always have last night. Just don’t forget what we shared.”

  “That would be impossible,” he said, giving her an uneasy smile.

  She unclasped the compass from around her neck, the one her mother had given her. Taking his hand in hers, she placed the gold-plated compass on his palm and closed his fingers around it. At his questioning look, she said, “I want you to keep this, in case you ever need to find your way back to me. The compass will guide you, so you won’t get lost.”

  With a sigh, he brushed his fingers through her hair, then cupped her chin in his hand. For a moment he stared at her, letting the regret shimmer in his eyes. Then, with a tenderness she would forever cherish, he bid her one last good-bye with a kiss.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two hours later, Storm approached the out skirts of town on Highway 191, heading for the airport in Bozeman. He’d left early, giving himself more than enough time to catch his four o’clock flight to Albuq
uerque. He saw no reason in prolonging his stay in Whitehorn.

  He’d had his fill of the bad memories the town held for him.

  Storm frowned. Not all the memories were bad, he admitted. Absently, he touched the breast pocket of his shirt, feeling the outline of the compass Jasmine had given him. Some were just destined to remain bitter sweet.

  He reached inside his pocket and fished out the compass. Holding it by its chain, he watched as the antique gold caught the sunlight, sending sparkles through out the interior of the car.

  He hadn’t wanted to accept Jasmine’s gift.

  He’d wanted to push her and everything that reminded him of the time they’d spent together out of his mind. Coming to Whitehorn and searching for the truth behind his brother’s death, had been one of the hardest tasks he’d ever had to face. Meeting Jasmine and losing his heart had only complicated matters.

  Though he’d succeeded in finding his brother’s murderer, once again he’d lost at love.

  Closing his hand around its cool metal casing, he gripped the compass tightly. Despite her gift and her stoic show of pride, he knew Jasmine had been hurt by all that had happened.

  Even worse, he knew that he’d been the cause of that pain.

  Because of him and his relentless pursuit of the past, Jasmine had lost her mother, her innocence and her reason to hope. In less than two hours Celeste Monroe would be arraigned on the charges of murdering his brother. Instead of staying and facing what he’d wrought, once again he’d run away, unable to witness the final tableau.

  He felt like the worst kind of coward.

  His mood plummeting, he tucked the compass back into his pocket, telling himself he had no reason to feel guilty. He wasn’t the one who’d pulled the trigger and taken a life. No, his crime was much more subtle. He’d come seeking revenge on the Kincaid family. And revenge he’d found….

  He’d shattered their peaceful little family.