by Day Leclaire
He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Those are the only rules I can live with. One time,” she negotiated desperately. “Then never again.”
“You’re about to discover that I’m a man who breaks all the rules.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth, eliciting a helpless moan. “Our first time will be tender and slow and as prolonged as I can make it.”
She moaned again. “You just want to make me suffer.”
“I plan to do my very best. And it won’t be one time. It’ll be all night long. By the time we’re through, we’ll be so intertwined we won’t be able to tell where one of us begins and the other ends.”
If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have melted into a puddle at his feet. “And then we walk away.” Assuming they could still walk. “After we get untwined, we go our separate ways, right?” She had to win one concession in this devil’s bargain, because she’d fast come to realize that, like it or not, they were in the middle of an intense negotiation.
“That might be a little difficult considering we’re on an island. We still have to fly home together tomorrow.”
“But after that. Never again. We part company. Otherwise…otherwise no sex.” Who was she kidding?
His grin flashed in the darkness. “I guess there’s not much I can do about it, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want. One night and after that we’re through with each other.” And after they returned to Dallas, she’d never see him again. Never allow him to touch her again. Never be held in his arms again or shudder in anticipation of what would happen over the coming hours. Her arms tightened around his neck. But that was tomorrow. She still had tonight. “Make love to me, Joc. Quick. Before I change my mind.”
Five
Joc lifted Rosalyn with an easy strength. Instead of carrying her to either of the two bedrooms, he headed for the lanai. It was more humid here, but nighttime cool. Lush, delicious scents filled the air, scents that the air-conditioning hadn’t scrubbed clean.
He lowered Rosalyn to her feet and she crossed to the screen door and stared out toward the lagoon. Shadows covered much of the view, but she could see the moonlight gleaming on the white-tipped waves as they curled toward shore, and could hear the muted crash as the water pounded the sand, followed by the soft hiss of retreat.
Tonight she intended to be selfish. Tonight was hers. Just this one night, with moonlight drenching them and the stars raining down. Just one night of greed, to take what was offered. To use and be used until she couldn’t see or think straight. To have every last problem blown straight out of her head. To have a few hours to herself without worrying about finances, or a broken fence line or sick livestock or promises she was honor bound to keep.
Joc wrapped his arms around her. “Where have you gone, Red?”
She turned in his arms and blew out a sigh. “I’m an idiot.”
“Second thoughts?”
She dropped her head to his shoulder. “It’s not that.” She started to laugh, hoping he didn’t hear the heartbreak that hid behind her amusement. “This—” She gestured to encompass the room and the island and him. “It’s supposed to be a night off. A night of fantasy.”
“An escape from reality.”
“Yes.”
He lifted her chin and grimaced at her expression. “Started thinking, did you?”
“I did.” He surprised her by smoothing the furrows from her brow and she relaxed against him. “I don’t suppose there’s something you can do about that?”
“I’ll give it my best shot.”
He kissed her. Not with the desperate passion of earlier. Not with a blistering stamp of possession. This was an exploration, a delving into something new and fascinating. Something not to be rushed. Her breathing quickened, as did her want. It rose like the tide, building and curling, a wave of need rushing toward shore. She reached for him as it broke, wrapping her arms tight, tight, tight around his neck. His tongue dueled with hers, teasing, taunting, mating. She couldn’t get enough. Not close enough, not hard enough, not…just not enough.
He edged her away from the screen door and deeper into the lanai, deeper into the shadows and the blessed darkness. She felt his hands in her hair. Felt the quick tugs as he plucked free the pins holding her hair in place.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night.” Her hair slid downward and he filled his hands with the weighty mass. “Why would you keep something this beautiful hidden away?”
She stared in bewilderment. “It wasn’t hidden.”
“First that stupid hat.”
“It keeps the sun off my face.”
“Then tonight.”
“I was going for sophisticated. I thought it matched the dress.”
His gaze lowered. “Yes. The dress. Let’s see what we can do about that.”
He slid the spaghetti straps from her shoulders before finding the zip and lowering it. The weight of the beads sent the bodice of the gown dropping. It didn’t stop there. It slid all the way to her hips and clung for a brief instant before gravity sent it plummeting to the floor with a nervous chatter of beads.
She stood before him in nothing more than a wispy thong and acres of pale naked skin. Suddenly self-conscious, she shifted so she remained clear of the moonlight, hoping the cloak of shadows hid most of her flaws. “You still have all your clothes on,” she said. “That strikes me as patently unfair.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m forced to disagree.” He cupped her breast and stroked his thumb across the tip. “You’re as perfect as I’d anticipated.”
She shivered at the agonizing tightening of her nipple, the sensation piercing straight to her core. How could she be wound so tight that every nerve felt on the verge of exploding, while at the same time that single touch had her entire body loosening and softening?
“You didn’t have to anticipate too hard.” She fought to speak through a haze of desire. “That dress didn’t leave much to the imagination.”
“Which is why I chose it with you in mind.” His voice deepened. “And then, with you out of it in mind.”
His fingernail scraped again and she lost it. She yanked at the tie moored at his neck until she’d managed to rip it loose. The buttons of his shirt came next, the studs that held it closed hitting the wooden floor with soft pings as they scattered. She worked her way past his shirt until she reached hot, hard flesh. There she paused, reveling in the feel of him, in the strength and power of endless muscle and sinew. God, he was in incredible shape. She covered him with kisses as she removed each article of clothing.
When he was as naked as she, he backed them toward one end of the lanai to a love seat which he flattened into a daybed. She tumbled backward onto the thick cushions. They were soft and cool against her back and his weight had her sinking into them, the dichotomy of searing and inflexible above, and light and downy beneath, making her head swim.
“Joc!” His name escaped in a desperate rush, pleading for something she couldn’t seem to express any other way.
Determination cut across his face and he touched her, soothing without saying a word. His mouth found hers, the joining of lips and tongue filled with a tenderness at odds with the fierceness of his personality. There was a newness to their kiss, as though they’d discovered some fresh and unexpected delicacy and were intent on savoring every moment. She’d never experienced anything like it—lustful, yet sensitive. Passionate, yet poignant.
He cupped her breasts, teasing the peaks before this attention drifted downward. Before she could stop him, his hands swept across her abdomen and he froze. Instantly she blocked his view with her arm, an instinctive attempt at self-preservation.
“No, honey, don’t.” He interlaced her fingers with his. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Rearing back, he shifted her arm to one side so silvered moonlight spilled across her torso, merciless in what it exposed. She stared at the ceiling and the pounding of her he
artbeat filled her ears as she waited for his reaction, waited to see if he accepted or rejected her. Then he touched her again, tracing the jagged scar from where it started, just beneath her left breast. Inch by excruciating inch he followed its path across her abdomen to where it terminated, high on her right hip.
She shivered beneath the intimate touch. Other than the physicians who’d treated her, only one other person had ever seen that scar. At the end of their affair, he’d told her he’d made love to her despite it, even though it sickened him to look at it, or to accidentally touch it. But Joc seemed determined to examine every aspect. Just when she was on the verge of erupting off the love seat, he spoke.
“How, Red?” He sounded vaguely outraged. “How did this happen?”
She fought to speak in a normal voice. “It was an accident.”
“I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t on purpose. But…that must have been some accident.”
“It was.”
“Aw, hell. This happened when you took over running Longhorn after your parents’ death, didn’t it? That’s when you were scarred.”
She nodded. “My first week on the job. I was eighteen and in way over my head. The bull knew it and explained the facts of life to me.”
He bit out a curse. “You were gored?”
“Yes. I’ve carried that scar as a reminder ever since.”
“A reminder of what?”
“Of what I owe the legacy I’ve been given, and the toll that legacy sometimes exacts.”
“You’re self-conscious about it, aren’t you?”
In response, she threw an arm across her face. Her withdrawal stirred an instantaneous reaction. He lowered his head and his ebony hair caressed her belly, his breath warming her chilled skin. And then his mouth closed over the scar. A shudder erupted from deep inside, directly beneath his lips, spreading outward in surges of liquid heat.
“I hate that this happened to you,” he murmured. “But what I hate worse is that it’s stolen your self-confidence and made you uncertain at a moment when you should be at your most powerful. When you should be the most secure in your femininity.”
His words slipped deep into her soul, thawing something that had long been frozen. Tears filled her eyes and tracked a silent path along her temples and into her hair. “I thought it might repulse you.”
He looked at her, a look that allowed her to see deep inside, to know that when he spoke it was with absolute honesty and sincerity. “This is a mark of survival. How could it repulse me?”
She didn’t know how long she lay there, absorbing the shock of his words. All she knew was that he’d stripped her bare, uncovering the one place she was most vulnerable. He was her enemy, and she’d exposed her wounded underbelly. But instead of taking advantage of her defenselessness, instead of ripping her to shreds, he’d given her back her strength. She reached for him, determined to match strength for strength, to give as he had.
She cupped his face and tugged him back into her arms. He kissed her, his mouth warm and demanding, welcoming her inward. She wrapped herself around him, staking a claim.
“Please, Joc.” She lifted her hips in a suggestive swirl. “I want you.”
When he refused to take their embrace further, she seized the initiative. She gently scored his chest with her nails before trailing her fingertips across his rippled abs. And then she dipped lower still, cupping the very source of his desire. His breath escaped in a harsh gasp.
“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” The question burst from between clenched teeth.
“Not kill you. Not quite.” She peeked up at him with a teasing grin. “Do you like it?”
“Oh, yeah.” He caught hold of her wrists and pulled them above her head, anchoring them there with one hand. “Now let’s see how you like it.”
He cupped the moist delta between her legs, dipping inward in slow, teasing strokes. He didn’t stop until she was arching beneath his touch, pleading for his possession. Not that it helped. She could feel herself losing control, her muscles clenching and fluttering on the verge of climax. She lay beneath him, open and wanting. As though sensing how close to the edge she hovered, he slipped between her legs.
“This was inevitable from the beginning,” he told her, as he reached for protection. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew it could only end one way.”
“Then let it end,” she begged.
There was no more talking after that. He joined them, sheathing himself in her heat with a single powerful stroke. What came next was a primal dance as old as time.
She rode the moment, wishing it could last forever. But she was too close to the edge for that to happen. The fluttering began again, rippling and fisting. Joc threw back his head, his throat moving convulsively as he drove home. And then the rapture came, overwhelming in its intensity.
Rosalyn had thought this night would be a simple sexual act. But in that timeless instant, where two became one, in that moment of perfect union, what she felt grew into something far deeper. Something that bonded her to him. Something that forever changed her.
Far worse, it became something she knew with absolute certainty she’d never be able to walk away from.
Joc watched, once again, as Rosalyn slowly woke. As before on the plane, her sleepy expression held a heart-wrenching vulnerability, one that cut him to the quick. All of her secrets were exposed to his scrutiny—the helpless passion he’d roused in her. The physical scar she’d hidden from him so self-consciously. The emotional scars she protected with even greater care. And worst of all, the events that had transpired just a few short hours ago. It was all there in the nervous caution with which she regarded him.
“Morning,” he greeted her, the word taking on a gruff quality.
She eased upward, pulling the sheet to her chin. “Morning.” She closed her eyes and released a chagrined laugh. “Listen to us. Considering what happened last night—”
“Not to mention this morning.”
Her gaze clashed with his at the reminder. “Not to mention this morning,” she confirmed with impressive calm. “After all that you’d think we’d be more comfortable with each other.”
“Speaking of this morning…” He watched the color come and go in her cheeks. “I seem to recall we were unfortunate enough to have a slight equipment malfunction.”
“You mean—”
He didn’t temper his words. “I mean, the condom broke. Are you on the pill?”
She shook her head. “There’s never been any need.”
“Then we have a problem.”
The sophisticated woman from the night before vanished beneath the unrelenting tropical light of day. She sank deeper into the pillows, shadows darkening her eyes, and pulled her legs tight against her chest. “There’s every chance it isn’t a problem,” she insisted. But he could hear the note of uncertainty coloring her declaration.
He forced himself to use a calm, reassuring tone of voice, the one that had always brought him the most success during tense negotiations. “I assume we won’t know for a few weeks.”
Her confession barely topped a whisper. “No.”
“Are you in the middle of your cycle or toward one end?”
“Middle.”
He scrubbed his hand across his face. “Okay. There’s nothing we can do about it at this point, but I’d like to make a simple request.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask…What’s your request and how simple is it?”
“I’d like you to promise to call me one way or the other as soon as you know. Will you do that?” He watched her closely, searching for any hint of prevarication. To his relief he saw none.
“Absolutely.”
A phone rang deep within the cabaña and with a swift apology, he went to answer it, dealing with details for the upcoming meeting with impatient efficiency. By the time he returned to the lanai, Rosalyn was gone, having used the interruption as an opportunity to escape. Not that he blamed her. No doubt she felt the less said on the subj
ect, the better, as though ignoring it would make it go away.
He stood for a long moment in silent contemplation. A baby. She could be pregnant with his child. He’d always sworn he’d never have children, not after what he and Ana had gone through. But he couldn’t get the image of Rosalyn out of his mind. He could see her as clearly as though she were standing there. Strong. Lean. Forthright.
And ripe with his child.
Once again he wanted. Wanted with a passion that defied all attempts at control and threatened all he hoped to achieve.
Rosalyn took her time in the bathroom, scrubbing every inch of herself. But it didn’t change anything. Her skin still glowed from Joc’s possession, her body forever branded by his touch. She could even smell him, his unique scent lingering on her lips and saturating her senses.
How could she have thought that a single night with him would be sufficient? Last night had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and if she were honest, she’d admit that she wanted more. She’d been a fool to think they’d be able to indulge in a one-night stand and then walk away without consequences, both emotional and…
Her hand slid downward to splay across the flatness of her abdomen. Was it possible? Could she be pregnant? It had only been one slip-up, a slight tear in the “equipment” as Joc referred to it. What were the odds that a baby could result? The probability had to be low. Still…What if it had happened?
She closed her eyes, allowing the hot spray to cascade over her head. Joc had already made his position perfectly clear. Not only wasn’t he interested in having children, but he’d stated in no uncertain terms that he refused to have them. Period. So where did that leave her? Between the proverbial rock and hard place, that’s where.
It didn’t matter, she decided. If potential became reality, she wouldn’t ask Joc for anything. She’d raise the baby on her own. He or she would be an Oakley, with a heritage the child could embrace with pride. The Oakley legacy would continue for another generation. Nothing would make her happier than that.