“That’s much worse than this was for me,” she responded, contrite that she had made such a fuss over insignificant things. At least, she tried to feel they were insignificant. Next to dying or being in prison, they were.
“It’s the same,” he insisted. “The same finality. Knowing there’s not a damned thing you can do to change things.”
“Lack of control,” she mused. “I’ve had no control for five years, but I’m just now figuring that out. Until today I lived with the foolish, empty dream that we could come back and pick up where we left off.”
“Dreams aren’t foolish,” he said quickly, then added, “They’re like bridges that span the realities of our lives. They give us something to believe in, something to hold onto until we get across the bad times.”
“Like fantasies, you mean? They’re not meant to come true?”
He studied her with an intensity that was heightened by the filtered starlight glinting from his eyes.
“Not all of them can come true,” he admitted. Finally, he shook off whatever demon had gripped him and asked again, “You okay now?”
“Yes.” She inhaled a lungful of fresh night air and Trevor. “It’s over. Burning those fancy pants finished it.”
His hands slid up both sides of her face, fingers splayed through her hair, cradled her head. His eyes searched hers in the moonlight. “Everything?”
It was a compellingly sensual moment. Intense and powerful. Uncharacteristically, she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Oh, Trevor, how could you want me? I have nothing left. I’m—”
His grip tightened. “Do you think that’s why I want you? Why I ever wanted you? Because you were Papa’s little rich girl?” Incredulity gave way to disgust. “Damnation, Jace.”
Lifting a finger she traced his lips, felt tingles clear to her bare toes. “You wanted me for the same reason I wanted you.”
“What’s that?”
“Because it was forbidden.”
“And now?”
“Now?” Anticipation began to trickle into the void inside her. She let it build deliciously. “Because I always wanted to make love to you under the stars.”
“Didn’t you, though.” His voice was wistful. She leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.
He chuckled, low and throaty. “Same ol’ Jace.”
“Same ol’ Trevor,” she mumbled against his lips. The sensation was magical. She felt like a thousand stars were streaking through her veins. It seemed incredible. Only moments before she had felt benumbed, lifeless, but she now glowed with life, with expectancy, with a need that transcended time and place. Under the stars or inside a deep, dark cave, she wanted Trevor with a spiraling urgency that tripped her heart. His hands on her face strummed chords of fascination, setting up a hum that vibrated through her senses.
Then his lips claimed hers, and she was lost in the sensual anticipation of the one thing she had craved since the first moment she met this man, something she had never experienced. Yet she was certain beyond any doubt it was this man she wanted first.
And last. And forever.
Mari was right. She loved him. But at this moment, she wanted him. Her body wanted him. Everything inside her cried for him. She knew he felt the same way. He must.
The kiss was fierce and wet and hot. It left them breathless. When they drew apart, he held her mesmerized while his hands cupped her breasts outside the blousey peon shirt. It only made her want him more.
“Make love to me, Trevor. Here under the stars where I’ve always wanted you to.”
His hands slipped beneath the shirt, fumbled with the fabric, finally closed over her bare skin, massaged her in heated circles that made her gasp for breath—for more.
“You’re sure, Jace?”
“Ummm.”
“You really want it?” One hand loosened its grip on her breast, flattened over her heart. “Here?” His husky voice mesmerized her. “Deep inside?”
“Yes.” She curled into him, wanting him in ways she had never imagined before now. Not even in the days when she was trying to tempt and tease him into bed had she felt so consumed by the insidious want she knew without doubt only this man could fulfill.
He wanted her, too. She could tell. She had always been able to tell when he wanted her. But he held back. And she suddenly knew the reason—the old reason. His promise to Hunter.
Trevor Fallon never broke a promise.
In El Paso she had reminded him of that promise—to make him angry, afraid he might guess the secret in her heart. Now her fear was of something far different—tonight might be the only time they had together.
If she had learned one thing on this dreadful day, it was to seize the moment. Tomorrow was no longer hers. Tomorrow they might learn truths to save Hunter. Truths that would prove Trevor a murderer. The idea made her sick. It was at once abhorrent and possible.
She twisted fingers in the curly hair on his chest, tugging him forward. Beneath her hand his heart throbbed. “Tonight might be the only time we have, Trevor. Please don’t let your promise to Hunter—”
“Hunter has nothing to do with this.” Not anymore. He knew that suddenly and clearly. If he could have Jacy tonight, if she would come to him now, for whatever reason, he had to take her.
No more arguing. No more heroics. Everything had changed in their lives. Everything was different now. His promise to Hunter was no longer a factor.
“This is between you and me, Jace. What’d you say?”
Her eyes said it for her. Then she added in that sultry voice from his dream. “I want you, Trevor.”
Want. Good enough. It had to be. Hell, for a no-account drifting nobody, it was better than good enough. It was heaven. The real thing. He stripped the shirt over her head and tossed it to the leaves.
His heart lodged in his throat, still beating like a band. A shaft of moonlight sifted through cottonwood leaves and streamed across her breasts. They were round and full and waiting.
For him. He reached for them.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he mumbled in a gruff tone. “This isn’t because you’ve always wanted it. I couldn’t not make love to you right now if every star in the heavens fell on top of us.”
Then he buried his face in the lushness of her breasts and fed the deep and ancient hunger that had gnawed at him for five long years, and before. Ever since he first met her, he had wanted her. Now he was glad he’d waited.
Before, it would have been a carnal challenge, defying the haughty Miss Fancy Pants, defying her father.
Now it was making love in the tenderest, most intimate sense. And she played her part as she had in his dreams. By the time their clothes were off, her hands had him trembling, for every place he touched her, she reciprocated, as though he were indeed the teacher, she the student. And she learned with such speed that he knew his limit was outpacing hers by several minutes.
“Whoa, there, Jace.” Turning her to her back, he straddled her with his knees. Her hands slipped from his shoulders, sifted through his chest hair, caught on his hips, showering him with streaks of fire.
“You don’t like this?” she asked, when he shuddered.
“Better than just about anything. How about you?”
He watched her face in the moonlight. If a man didn’t know better, he would read something that wasn’t there in those begging eyes. Fortunately Trevor knew her well enough not to read too much in them.
“I always knew it would be this good,” she said in that sultry voice he had thought he would go to his grave without hearing in real life. “Except…”
“Except what?”
She smiled. If he didn’t know her better, he would think she was being coy.
“What, Jace? I want it to be good for you.”
“Well, it’s strange. I want you more right now than when we started.”
He grinned. “You do, huh?” His hands roved down her body. Holding her gaze, he teased her nipples until he saw her eyes narrow with need. “Th
is where you want me, Jace?”
She nodded, stiffly, like he felt.
“This the only place?”
Smiling, she shook her head.
“What about here?” His hands slipped lower, flattened over her abdomen, felt her hips rise against him.
“Yes,” she mumbled. But Jacy Kimble had always been one to give as good as she took. Her hands had followed his. Now, when he slipped into her sleek, hot, wetness, she took him in her hand and stroked him with a sure fist. Passion caught like a knot in his heart. His dreams had never been this good.
“Ah, Jace, whoa,” he moaned.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, without a pause.
His eyes bore into hers, deeply, lovingly, while his body felt consumed by need, ready to explode from the want of her. “Turn loose, Jace, and I’ll show you the only thing I like better.”
With his help, she unfastened her hand. He thought to assure her that the pain would be minimal, but the moment was upon them. He thrust into her heated wetness, watching her face, savoring her look of startled delight, the sound when she gasped for breath, the smell of them, the feel…
Oh, God, the feel of her tightness surrounding, holding him, cradling him, drawing from him even as she gave. His head reeled. With great effort he remained still, embedded in her, searching her face for the slightest hint of what she was feeling.
All he saw was sheer, raw, undiluted pleasure.
Which, after all, was good enough. All he could expect. All he should want.
But never again would dreams of Jacy be enough.
“You okay?”
She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and nodded.
He started moving. She reached for him. His lips took hers with fervid urgency. Then suddenly he felt it, like in his dreams. Her legs went around him, holding him, encouraging him. Before he was half ready or she was either, the world exploded in his head.
He held for a moment, savoring it. Not just the climax of his own passion, but the fulfillment of his dream, the silky softness of her long slender legs embracing him, the way her breasts nuzzled into the fine hair on his chest. As his body pumped out the last of his passion, he felt his life flow into hers, renewing her, renewing him.
For the first time in five years he silently thanked Hunter for eliciting that promise from him. He was glad he had waited. It would never have been this good, this right, not until now. Because now he knew he loved her.
Before she could see it or feel it or sense it, he rolled away. “Hold still, I’ll fetch the covers,” he mumbled, heading for the house without waiting to so much as pull on his pants.
Enthralled, Jacy watched Trevor pick his way up the rocky slope. Moonlight glanced off his nude back, and she blushed at the boldness with which she had explored that back, his whole body. It had taken courage, but it was all part of her plan to teach him to love her. Now she watched contented, for she knew he could learn. She could teach him, like Mari suggested.
But what if he murdered Ana?
When he returned to lie beside her, she curled into him, savoring his warmth and hardness and softness.
“We fit,” she whispered against his neck.
“We always fit,” he mumbled into her hair. “Even in my dreams.”
“You never did tell me about those dreams,” she reminded him in that sultry voice. Rolling him over, she leaned above him. He caught strands of her hair, pulled it through his lips, and she felt fascination stir and build inside her again.
“After a while,” he began, “I realized that dreams of escaping to Mexico were a waste of time. Dreaming about making love to you was infinitely more pleasing.”
“And not a waste of time?” she teased, feeling more content than ever in her life.
But he didn’t respond in kind. “I’m sorry I didn’t last long enough. Next time…”
She kissed him softly. Next time. Oh, yes, they would have a next time and a next and a next. Forever, that’s what she wanted.
“Let’s not be sorry about anything tonight, Trevor.” With a gentle hand, she swept the hair off his forehead and studied the scar. It stood out white in the moonlight. She traced it with her fingers. For the first time it didn’t repulse her or frighten her or anger her. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead, leaving her lips on the scar.
“Like in my dream,” he whispered. Now all that remained was for her to say she loved him and that she understood. But she certainly didn’t love him. And she would never understand. How could she?
When she looked back at him with a grave expression, it was not to comment on the scar. She touched his lips with hers, then ran her tongue around them. For a moment they were lost in the kiss. Urgency built quickly. His hand caressed her smooth back and she shuddered with delight, before turning serious.
“If I ever found out you did this with Ana Bowdrie, I might kill you myself.”
“I didn’t, Jace. I swear it.”
And Lord help her, but she believed him.
Eleven
Jacy awoke the next morning to sunlight filtering through leaves where moonlight had last played. She stretched, sore in all the right places, yet as contented as Tía Bella’s calico cat, Gato.
When she saw Trevor, her body responded as it had the whole night long, with a compelling, insidious clamor. She wanted to be in his arms, to hold him, to be held by him, to love and be loved by him.
He stood with his back to her, looking up at the towering cliffs. His hands anchored hips above a free-flowing shirt, which was obviously unbuttoned, shirttails hanging over his duckins.
With eagerness swelling deliciously inside her, she arose, draped the quilt around her bare shoulders, and went to him. He didn’t hear her until she was directly behind him. She slipped her hands under his shirttails and hugged him from behind.
The feel of his skin brought back all the emotions of the night before—fiery need and sweet, soft sensualness. She felt his ribs heave with a sigh.
“I’m going to save Hunter, Jace,” he vowed solemnly, “if it’s the last thing I do.”
“We will save him. Together.”
When he turned in her arms, the quilt fell to the ground and he saw her body. She watched his eyes sweep her, while her breasts rose and fell with her erratic breathing, watched him admire her, worship her, and she had never been so sure, so certain of anything in her life. This was right. This man. Them, together, forever. She would teach him to love her, if it was the last thing she ever did.
“You were right,” she murmured. “This is just between us—you and me.” Mari’s claim popped to mind again. Mari’s claim, which gave her courage, permission, as it were, to admit her feelings. Once spoken, Jacy had been no longer able to deny the intensity of her love for him. “And maybe Mari,” she added, her eyes on his bellybutton.
“Mari?” he inquired. “What’s she got to do with it?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said hastily. “She just, well, she said…”
“What, Jace?”
Lifting her eyes a bit, she watched the vein throb in his neck. Mari’s claim buzzed in her head. Mari’s instructions. Teach him to love.
“What?”
Teach him. Don’t scare him off. “Nothing, really. It was just, uh, rather far-fetched, actually.”
With two fingers Trevor found her chin and tipped her head. When she looked up, his expression was one of amusement.
“Far-fetched?” he asked. She would have sworn his amusement was grounded in sincerity.
All she could do was nod. She dared not tell him. Teach him. Don’t scare him off.
“How far-fetched is it, Jace?”
Avoiding his eyes, she concentrated on his lips, which conjured images of the night before, of his lips on hers, his lips on her skin, his lips on places she had never in her wildest dreams imagined lips touching. Even now, just recalling it, her body responded with a clamoring hum of anticipation.
She looked at him then, her composure regained. “You d
on’t know what she said.”
His eyes bore into hers, teasing, yet sincere; amused, yet serious. “If she told you the same thing she told me—”
Jacy couldn’t believe her ears. “She wouldn’t have.”
He winked and she went weak in the knees. “Care to compare notes?”
A flush rushed up her body. She felt it glow on her cheeks. When she turned away, he caught her around her very nude waist and pulled her back against him, against his bare chest. The sensations rocked her.
Suddenly she was torn in two. She wanted him, but she didn’t want to drive him away. How could Mari have been so, so cruel? “She wouldn’t have…”
“Wanta bet?”
Jacy’s heart pumped. Usually decisive, she found herself in a quandary. What should she do? How should she respond? What could she say without driving him away? She felt Trevor’s matching heartbeat throb against her back. They beat together, like they should, the way she hoped they always would. If Mari hadn’t ruined everything. Despair swept over her. “Why would Mari say such a thing?”
“Beats me.” He turned her by the shoulders. “Look at me, Jace.”
But she couldn’t. If she did, he might see how she felt, her secret truth. If she did, she might see how he felt, the awful truth, his denial.
“Mari believes in fairy tales,” he was saying. “She wants everyone to have a happy ending.” He tipped her chin as before. His tone reflected the sincerity he usually reserved for proclaiming his own innocence. “Don’t let her matchmaking interfere.”
Interfere? Oh, Lord it interfered with everything. “Why in the world would something so…so far-fetched interfere with anything?”
“Beats me,” he mumbled, but his arms had already gone around her and his lips descended, and his words were smothered by his kiss, and for the life of her she couldn’t help reading more into his tenderness and passion than was there.
At the moment. But at the moment all she could think about was his lips, his body, the loving that was in store for her.
“Hey, Jace,” he teased when they stopped for air, “we’d better save this for later. Time for us to hit the trail, before someone finds out we’re here.”
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