She stiffened and fought for her precious control. Twelve years of cloaking herself in it should have made it easy to find, but not with Jesse so close. Too close for her to breathe, much less think, much less pretend.
“You have to cradle the bar of soap and slide it through your fingers like this.” He slid his fingers over the slick bar and suds lathered between their fingers. “You have to go easy and slow.” As he said the words, she got the distinct impression that he was talking about more than just washing her hands.
“Thanks for the advice, but no thanks. I do not need to go slow and easy.” To prove her point, she focused every ounce of energy she had on ignoring the delicious feelings assaulting her body. She held her breath and rolled the bar between her palms before shoving her hands under the spraying faucet.
His arms fell away as she turned off the water and reached for a dish towel. She scooted past him and headed for the large storage room that sat just behind the kitchen, eager to put as much distance as possible between them.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded when he followed her into the back room. She forced her face into the tightest frown she could manage, considering she wanted to kiss him more than she wanted her next breath.
“We made a deal. Sex,” he murmured, the word rumbling up her spine.
“Not now. Not here.” While she wanted Jesse, she wasn’t supposed to want him. That meant no blushing or trembling or kissing. “There are too many people here.”
“Why, there isn’t a soul in sight.” He glanced around to prove his point. A bare bulb hung overhead, illuminating the small room that housed everything from gallon cans of chili and beans to five-gallon jars of tomato sauce for the Senior Ladies weekly spaghetti night. The place stocked all of the supplies for any of the functions held in the main conference room next to the kitchen. Boxes of paper goods, from plates to napkin packets to disposable cups, lined a metal shelf that ran the length of one wall.
“This isn’t a good idea.” She turned her back on him, determined to forget his presence and keep her mind on the task at hand. She made her way to a six-foot table that held the rest of the goodies that the Ladies’ Auxiliary had donated for today’s luncheon. There were dozens of pies and platters of brownies and a few cakes. She was busy reading the masking tape labels on the tops of the plastic-wrapped goodies when she heard Jesse step up behind her again.
“This really isn’t a good idea.” She snatched up a carrot cake and turned, the confection smack-dab between them.
“Actually, I think it’s a pretty fine idea.” Jesse’s deep voice sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. His eyes glittered with a hungry light that sucked the oxygen from her lungs and made her hands tremble. He caught the edge of the door that adjoined the kitchen and shut it behind him, closing them off from the rest of the world.
The cake slid from her grasp, landing in a pile of smashed frosting and plastic wrap at her feet. Ugh. That made not one but two desserts she’d killed on account of Jesse James Chisholm.
“You’d better get your checkbook ready to make a nice big fat donation.” She knelt to retrieve the mess, but he was right beside her, his hands bumping hers as they both reached for the cardboard base at the same time.
“I’m not the one that keeps dropping everything.”
“Because of you.”
“Because you like what I do to you. You just don’t want to admit it.”
His hand stalled on hers and heat whispered up her arm. “I can’t do this here.”
“You don’t have to do a thing.” He reached for her hands, which were now covered with frosting. Before she could draw her next breath, his tongue flicked out and he licked one finger. Once, twice, before sliding it deep in his mouth and suckling for a breath-stealing moment. “Just feel.”
“I...” She swallowed and tried to think of something to say, but with his lips so firm and purposeful around her finger, his tongue rasping her skin, she couldn’t seem to find any words. “Somebody might come looking for me,” she managed to say several moments later after he’d licked her finger clean.
“You’ll be back with more desserts in no time.” He licked his lips, and she had the sudden image of him licking other parts of her body. Lapping at her neck and her nipples and her belly button and the wet heat between her legs. “But first I want my dessert.”
Chatter drifted through the open doorway. The PA system crackled as it switched on and Myrtle’s voice came over the loudspeaker as she tested the mic for the upcoming meeting. Even closer, the hum of the coffee machine drifted from inside the kitchen, along with the rush of water as someone flipped on a faucet. There were people just beyond the thin walls of the storage room. People starting to prep for the upcoming meeting. People who could walk in at any moment and find their mayor having dessert with the town’s baddest bad boy.
She stiffened and forced aside the stirring images. “I really think we should wait until this evening. I’ll meet you at the motel.”
“You cancelled on me once. I won’t take that chance again. Besides, I don’t like to wait.” He kissed her then, his lips wet and hungry, his tongue greedy as he devoured her.
“I don’t think—” But then he fingered her nipple through the soft cotton of her shirt and she stopped thinking altogether.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands going to her hips. He paused to knead her bottom through the fitted material of her skirt. Fabric brushed her legs as he slid it down over her thighs, her knees, until the skirt pooled on the floor.
He stood, then slid his hands around to her bottom and lifted her onto the counter. He paused only to grab one of the large wire racks filled with boxes and shove it in front of the door. It wasn’t enough to keep anyone out should they really want to get in, but it was enough to buy them some time to grab their clothes should they be discovered.
Walking back to her, he wedged himself between her parted thighs. He urged her backward until her back met the countertop and then he slowly unbuttoned her shirt and unhooked the front clasp of her bra.
He fingered a dollop of frosting from the cake plate. “I really do like cream cheese,” he murmured before touching the filling to one ripe nipple. He circled the tip, spreading the glaze until it covered her entire areola.
His gaze drilled into hers for a heart-stopping moment before he lowered his dark head. His tongue lapped at the side of her breast.
The licking grew stronger, more purposeful, as he gobbled up the white confection, starting at the outside and working his way toward the center. Sensation rippled up her spine.
The first leisurely rasp of his tongue against her ripe nipple wrung a cry from her throat. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he drew the quivering tip deep into his hot, hungry mouth. He suckled her long and hard and she barely caught the moan that tried to escape her throat.
She bit her lip as he licked and suckled and nipped. Her skin grew itchy and tight. Pressure started between her legs, heightened by the way he leaned into her, the hard ridge of his erection prominent beneath his jeans. She spread her legs wider and he settled more deeply between them. Grasping her hips, he rocked her.
Rubbed her.
Up and down and side to side and—
The shrill whistle of a tea kettle filled the air, penetrating the haze of pleasure that gripped her senses. Panic bolted through her and she went still.
“Wait.” She grasped his muscled biceps to still his movements. “I need to go check the tea. If I don’t, someone else will.”
He leaned back, his gaze so deep and searching, as if he were doing his damnedest to see inside of her. “No,” he finally murmured, his fingertip tracing the edge of her panties where elastic met the tender inside of her thigh. “You’re not going anywhere. This isn’t about going, sugar.” His finger dipped into the steamy heat beneath. “It�
�s about coming.”
One touch of his callused fingertip against her swollen flesh and she arched up off the counter. She caught her bottom lip again and stifled a cry.
With a growl, he spread her wide with his thumb and forefinger and touched and rubbed as he dipped his head and drew on her nipple.
It was too much and not enough. She clamped her lips shut and forced her eyes open. But he was there, filling her line of vision, his fierce gaze drilling into hers. Searching and stirring and—
“Is somebody back there?” Lora Tremayne’s voice echoed in the background, followed by the rattle of the doorknob as the president of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas tried to open the door to the storage room.
Gracie stiffened, her hands diving between them to stop the delicious stroke of his fingers.
As if he sensed her sudden resistance, his movements stilled. His chest heaved and his hair tickled her palms. Damp fingertips trailed over her cheek in a tender gesture that warmed her heart almost as much as her body.
“Come for me.” His gaze was hot and bright and feverish as he stared down at her, into her. But there was something else, as well. A desperation that eased the panic beating at her senses and sent a rush of determination through her.
“Hello? Who’s in there?”
It was Lora again, but it didn’t matter. Gracie no longer cared if the entire Ladies’ Auxiliary stood on the outside of the door, waiting and listening.
It wasn’t about what everyone else thought about her. It was about him. What he thought about her. What he felt for her. What he wanted from her. What he needed from her.
And what she needed from him.
Her fingers dove into his front pocket and retrieved the small foil packet tucked there.
He answered her unspoken invitation by tugging at the button on his jeans, pulling his zipper down and freeing his hard length. He opened the condom and spread it on his throbbing penis before leaning in closer, until the head pushed just a fraction of an inch inside of her.
Pleasure pierced her brain for a split second, quickly shattering into a swell of sensation as he filled her with one deep, probing thrust.
Her muscles convulsed around him, clutching him as he gripped her bare bottom. He pumped into her, the pressure and the friction so sweet that it took her breath away.
She was vaguely aware of the voices on the other side of the door. But then he touched her nipple and trailed a hand down her stomach, his fingertips making contact with the place where they joined, and all thought faded in a rush of sweet desire. She met his thrusts in a wild rhythm that urged him faster and deeper and...there. Right. There!
Her lips parted and she screamed at the blinding force of the climax that picked her up and turned her inside out. He caught the sound with his mouth and buried himself deep inside her one last time. A shudder went through him as he followed her over the edge.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him. Oddly enough, the fact that she would have to walk out of here with Jesse, past whoever had knocked on the door, didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have.
The heat, she told herself. It was so hot outside that she’d obviously suffered a minor heatstroke and so she wasn’t thinking clearly. Because no way would she want anyone to know that their respectable leader had hooked up with the most disrespectable man in town.
The very last thing she needed was to tarnish her image. Unfortunately, what she needed and what she wanted were two very different things, and at that moment, the only thing she really wanted was Jesse.
In her bed and her life.
Temporarily, of course.
She knew full well that he was leaving in a few days, and she was staying, and that was that.
There would be no long-distance texts, no late-night phone calls, no keeping in touch. Jesse meant to let go of the past, to erase it, and she meant to let him.
Cold turkey.
It worked.
She knew firsthand and where she’d turned her back once before, she intended to let him turn his now. He needed to forget this place.
He deserved to forget.
Which meant she would let him go. She had to.
But not yet. Not just yet.
* * *
“I’M TELLING YOU, James Lee, the door is locked from the inside.” Lora Tremayne’s voice penetrated the frantic beat of Jesse’s heart.
“But this door ain’t got no lock on the inside, Miss Lora,” came the deep voice of City Hall’s lead maintenance man. “Maybe you aren’t pushing it hard enough.”
Jesse felt Gracie’s body go tense and he knew she’d heard the speculation outside the door. He leaned back and saw the worry that leapt into her bright blue eyes.
“I pushed on it plenty hard,” James Lee went on. “It’s not locked, but it might be barricaded. Someone’s definitely in there.”
“Maybe it’s Mabel Green,” said another female voice and Jesse knew the situation had attracted the attention of more than one of the women on hand for the monthly meeting and bake sale. “She’s been on a no-carb diet for the past six months and it’s made her batty. She probably saw all those goodies and went on a binge.”
“Sarah Eckles is doing the same diet,” another voice said. “It could be her.”
“Maybe it’s an animal. I get possums in my trash all the time. One of ’em could have crawled in a window.”
“Maybe it’s a raccoon.”
“Maybe it’s a zombie.”
The voices joined in a loud back and forth as the doorknob jiggled and James Lee did his best to push open the door.
“We have to get out of here,” Gracie started, but Jesse touched a finger to her lips.
“Wait here and don’t come out until the coast is clear.” He worked at the buttons on his jeans and then pulled on his shirt. A split second later, he kissed her quickly on the lips before turning toward the door.
He pulled open the door just as James Lee pushed. The man would have tumbled him backward, but Jesse was much younger and stronger. James Lee stumbled backward instead as Jesse stepped forward, slipped out the door and shut it firmly behind him.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, giving Lora and the half dozen women that surrounded her a wink and a tip of his hat.
“Jesse Chisholm,” Lora said, her face puckering up as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. “What in land’s sake are you doing here?”
“I must have got lost on my way to the clerk’s office.”
“You mistook the kitchen for the clerk’s office?” She didn’t look convinced.
Meanwhile the whispers floated around the room.
“The clerk’s office? Fat chance on that.”
“Why, that man cain’t be up to no good.”
“The Chisholms don’t know the meaning of the word good.”
“Somebody better count the brownies and pies.”
“I’m selling some property,” Jesse announced, as if that would kill the speculation. It wouldn’t. His last name was Chisholm and nothing would ever change that. He knew as much and he’d come to terms with it, but he explained anyway because this wasn’t about him. It was about Gracie. She was stuck in the room behind him and he wanted to give her a way out that didn’t involve waltzing past these gossips. “I must have taken a wrong turn.”
“Likely story,” Lora snorted in the condescending way that had earned her the reputation as the most stuck-up bitch in the county.
He ignored the urge to tell her which way to go and how fast to get there. Instead, his ears perked to the sound of footsteps behind him. So soft that no one else would have heard unless they were listening.
A slide and a faint thud and then all was quiet.
No jiggle of the knob behind him. No creak of hinges.
Nothing because Gracie was heeding his words and not coming out until the coast was clear.
He ignored the crazy disappointment that twisted at his insides. It wasn’t as if he wanted her to waltz out in front of God and everybody and tarnish the image she’d fought so hard to build.
At the same time, he couldn’t shake the sudden urge to feel her hand on his arm, her warmth beside him, as she stepped up and declared to the world that she was here with him. For him.
“I’ll just be on my way.”
“I’ll show you to the clerk’s office,” James Lee offered. “It’s just down the hall.” The man started forward, but Jesse wasn’t budging until he had the entire entourage behind him.
“You sure you don’t want to escort me out yourself?” He eyed Lora. “Just to make sure I don’t overpower James, here, and come back to steal a peach cobbler.”
“A smart-ass just like your father,” she muttered, but she started after him anyway. As expected, the women followed and soon they were moving down the hallway toward the county clerk’s office. When they reached the doorway, James turned.
“Show’s over, ladies. There’s a bake sale still going on out on the lawn that could use all of you, not to mention y’all got your meeting to get to.” He motioned back down the hall. “Just get on about your business. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Make sure you do,” Lora said, giving Jesse one last scathing look. He grinned and her frown deepened before she turned on the women. She rattled off new duties to them and they all disappeared through a nearby door that led to the front lawn.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Chisholm,” James said once the women had disappeared. “Those busybodies don’t think before they start running their mouths.” He winked. “Saw you ride in Houston last year. You were something.”
“Thanks, James Lee.”
“Had my granddaughters with me. Bought ’em each a shirt with your name on it. Tickled ’em pink, it did.”
“That’s mighty nice of you.”
“Ain’t nothing nice about it. I was hoping you might sign those shirts for me. It sure would mean a lot to the girls.”
Texas Outlaws: Jesse Page 13