by Lori Wilde
She spread her knees and reached out her hands to him. He lowered himself between her legs, careful to avoid jostling her injured foot, and gently began to kiss her again.
Finally, at long last, she would know what it was like to be a woman.
And if the thunderbolt was real, then he would be hers forever. If it wasn’t real, then at least she’d have this one moment of exquisite pleasure to treasure of her first time with a handsome, virile man.
Making love to Lacy seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Never mind the annoying voice in the back of his brain telling him that he was getting in over his head. Never mind that his breath quickened with fear half as much as with excitement. Never mind that he was leaving Texas in less than a week.
His hands were unerring. His lips sure. More than anything, he wanted to give and receive pleasure with this woman.
And Lacy seemed as eager as he to consummate their union. The tension that had smoldered between them from the moment he had sauntered into the operating room at Saint Madeleine’s burst into a full-fledged forest fire.
She was the picture of his every adolescent fantasy sprung to life and more wonderful than he had ever dreamed. She was lush and fresh and eager. His hands shook with need. His heart pounded with passion.
Her warm, moist lips clung to his tighter than any embrace. Sensuous lips that were an odd combination of wildness and innocence.
What an intriguing paradox she was. Sweet and naughty.
At times she seemed almost virginal, and then in the next moment she would turn into the most tempting of temptresses. His eyes never left hers as his fingers slowly unbuttoned her jumper. She wriggled free from the clothing, and when he saw her body wrapped only in that pink satin teddy, he sucked in his breath with admiration.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She blushed prettily and ducked her head.
“I mean it.”
“I’m not used to hearing men talk to me like this,” she said softly.
“Well, you should be. You’re a spectacular woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. I’m damned lucky to be here with you right now.”
“Really?” She raised her head and blinked at him. The tender expression on her face slugged him in the solar plexus.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Lacy?” he whispered. “You know I can’t promise you any more than this moment. I can’t promise you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow will take care of itself,” she said. “Make love to me, Bennett. I want you; I need you...”
Was it his imagination or did the words “I love you” hang unspoken in the air?
Did she love him?
Bennett pulled back and searched her face, and he saw something suspect in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was to break her tender heart. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that he’d hurt her.
“Lacy...”
But before he could question her further, she raised up on her elbows and flicked the tip of her hot pink tongue and licked his nipple.
Bennett inhaled as sharply as if he’d been scalded. Such heat. Such intensity. Such indescribable delight.
Sheer ecstasy.
Moaning softly, he kissed her again, his arms cocooning her.
“Bennett.” She murmured his name. “Oh, Bennett.”
“I’m here, cupcake, right here.”
He lowered his head, then nipped and kissed and tickled her skin with his tongue. He visited her neck, her cheek, her eyelids, her earlobes until she was writhing restlessly beneath him.
“Every time I avoided your eyes in surgery it was because I was secretly longing to do this,” he said.
“No kidding?” she breathed.
“From the moment you fell off your stool at my feet.”
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I imagined you thought I was the world’s biggest klutz, but the truth is, you unnerved me that much.”
“I thought you were adorably disarming.” He eased the straps of her teddy over her shoulders, then traced an index finger over her tight breasts.
Mesmerized, he watched as her nipples responded to his touch, growing harder, more prominent with each circling caress. When he dipped his head to suckle there, she arched her back and moaned low in her throat.
He ran his hand downward, skimming first her waist, then her flat, firm belly. She writhed against his hand, whimpered for more.
The woman surprised him at every turn. She gazed at him coyly as if completely unaware of what she did to him. Well, two could play that teasing game.
Inch by inch, his hand delved lower, igniting a blazing path of eager response.
“Oh,” she whispered when his fingers curled at her most feminine part. “Oh.” She grabbed handfuls of hay and whimpered shamelessly, her back arching off the barn floor.
She was the most desirable woman he had ever known. For this brief moment in time, she belonged to him alone.
“Don’t stop,” she begged when he moved his hand to gently rub the inside of one thigh as soft and irresistible as heavenly meringue.
“Do you like what I’m doing to you?”
In answer, she fiercely grabbed his hair in both fists and brought his mouth down to hers.
Every muscle in her body tensed as he continued to stroke between her legs. Her flavor filled his mouth in an explosion of epic proportions. Nothing had ever tasted this good. Not the juiciest filet mignon. Not the sweetest birthday cake. Not the finest caviar.
She clung desperately to him, her escalating passion kindling his desire to unbearable heights.
11
Lacy felt as if she were walking on a piece of string stretched taut across the Grand Canyon. One infinitesimal slip and she would plunge down, down, down into the beautiful abyss.
She was both scared and awed. Wanting to tumble so badly but frightened of what lay below the myriad sensations assaulting her body at Bennett’s every touch.
The power he held in one finger took her breath and her will. She would follow this man anywhere. Thunderbolt or no, he belonged to her, whether he recognized that fact or not. They belonged together. Making love would cinch their connection. After that, could he abandon his destiny?
Then suddenly, without warning, Bennett rolled away from her.
She stared at him. “What’s wrong?”
“We...I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“No protection.” His voice was a croak. He pulled ragged breaths. “I can’t believe I let things go this far.”
“Wait.” Lacy reached for her jumper, thrown haphazardly to one side in the hay. She dug in the pocket for the condom CeeCee had given her the day before. Silently, she said a prayer of thanks for her friend’s foresight.
Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since she’d sashayed into the Recovery Room with the intention of learning how to flirt?
Things were moving too fast, but she knew this was right. She would not regret this, no matter what the outcome might be. Better to have Bennett for a short while than not to have him at all.
“You’re prepared?” He looked astonished but took the foil square she extended toward him.
She shrugged.
“Lacy Calder,” he murmured, gathering her into his arms once more. “You surprise me at every turn.”
“I’ve got another surprise for you,” she confessed.
“Oh?”
She cleared her throat, unsure how to tell him. “I’ve never really done this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well...I’m kind of a virgin.”
“Excuse me?” He looked incredulous. “Kind of a virgin? How can you be kind of a virgin?”
She shrugged again.
“Really?” He looked gobsmacked.
She nodded, feeling too shy to say much.
He gulped. “But why me? Why now?”
She desperately wanted to tell him that she loved him. That she’d been felled by t
he legendary thunderbolt, and that’s all there was to it, but she knew that would most probably send him sprinting off across Lester’s back pasture at a speed to rival a Kentucky Derby winner.
And honestly, she couldn’t blame him if he did. The thunderbolt was a rather unbelievable story if you hadn’t grown up hearing about it day in and day out. Bennett was a doctor. A man of science. He would no more swallow the thunderbolt myth than he would believe her if she told him she was pregnant was Elvis’s love child.
Especially since Lacy was seriously doubting the thunderbolt herself. But she did believe in her feelings. Surely her heart would not lead her astray. So Lacy said what she had to say to keep him at her side and put that lusty gleam back in his eyes.
“I’m twenty-seven years old, Bennett. I think it’s time. I like you, but I’m also realistic. I know you won’t be in town much longer, but you make me feel sexy and desirable. I want you to be the one.”
“You would give me such a precious gift?” His voice went husky, and she could have sworn his eyes misted. “Especially since you waited for so long?”
“Don’t read that much into it,” she said, struggling to keep things light. She didn’t want to make him feel guilty if he chose to have sex with her and then just leave.
She was an adult. She knew exactly what she was proposing. She realized there was no guarantee, no thunderbolt, no myth. Just a woman making love a man to the best of her abilities.
“Lacy...” He looked uncomfortable. “Are you really sure? You’ve waited your whole life for this.”
“And so far, no Prince Charming on a snow-white stallion.” Until you. She looked at him and smiled shyly. “Please.”
“Cupcake, you are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and right now, I want to make love to you more than anything in the world. But as I told you before, I can’t make any promises. For the next several years, my life isn’t my own.”
“I know,” she whispered, and sudden fear swamped her. “I’m not asking for happily ever after.”
She studied the firm line of his jaw, saw the tenderness in his eyes, and knew she had to try. Perilous as it seemed, it really would be better to love and lose than never love at all.
And who knew? If there was by some small chance a thunderbolt, maybe having sex would bind him to her in a way nothing else could. It was a gamble, but she was ready to spin the wheel, roll the dice, pull the lever.
Lacy had spent her life hiding in her shyness, too nervous or self-conscious to reach out and grab what she wanted. Was she going to let Bennett walk away simply because she was too afraid to risk getting hurt?
She thought of CeeCee and Janet, and she knew what they would say.
Take a chance.
Lacy took a deep breath and said the bravest thing she’d ever said.
“Make love to me, Bennett. No promises, no strings attached. Let’s enjoy what we’ve got and not worry about tomorrow.”
Bennett capitulated. How could he not, with the sweetest, most honest woman in the world held close in his arms.
Dipping his head, he tasted her lips again, as delicious as Nanna’s vanilla custard. Then he slid his mouth lower, to her throat, felt the heat of her pulse jump frantically. The force of his need shook him deeply. He feared his knees would not hold him if he tried to stand.
There was no scrambling away from this. From her. He’d dreamed of this moment since the day he’d met her. Dreamed and tried to tell himself it was an impossible fantasy.
Here she was, offering herself up to him without expectations or demands. She was the most understanding female he’d ever come across, and he treasured each moment with her.
In one expeditious movement, he whisked off his boxer shorts.
Lacy inhaled sharply at the sight of him. Pride filled Bennett, knowing that he had produced such an intense response in her.
He put on the condom, then lay beside her to swirl his fingers at her hot, wet center once more.
“Oh, Bennett.”
“Yes, Lacy. Does that feel good?”
“Heaven. I’m in heaven.” She clung to his shoulders with both hands. “More. Please, more.”
His mouth captured hers. They kissed for one long, earth-shattering moment. Slowly, inch by inch, he slid into her.
When she cried out, he froze, terrified that he might be hurting her, but she shifted beneath him and lifted her hips tentatively.
“I love the way you feel inside me,” she gasped. “So strong. So manly.”
Her lush naked body was molded by his hands. Those sapphire eyes that had peeped at him so many times over a surgical mask were wide with wonder and desire. He smelled hay and the earthy scent of their combined musk. He was so overcome by sensations that he almost lost control then and there.
“Put your legs over my shoulders. That way there’s less of a chance I’ll hurt your ankle,” he whispered, trying hard to focus on something besides the tremendous fire inside him begging to be released.
This was her first time. He wanted it to be special.
She obeyed, and he ended up with a slim leg resting on each shoulder.
He cupped her face in his hands and carefully began to move again, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched for any signs of discomfort.
A blinding smile raised her lips, revealing to him exactly how much pleasure he was giving her.
“It’s fine, Bennett. Truly fine,” she said, reading his mind. “It hurt for a second, but now it feels just glorious.”
She blinked at him through a fine mist of tears, the smile on her face deepening, and in that moment, Bennett knew he was a goner.
In her eyes, he saw what he feared. Happiness, joy, warmth, and affection. Heat and need and hunger.
And love.
No matter that she would deny it, Lacy Calder loved him.
He should have been terrified. He should have stopped, got up, and walked all the way to Houston. But he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to leave.
In that instant, Bennett had the strangest sensation that he had come home.
His feelings made no sense. He was in a small Texas town, almost two thousand miles from Boston. He was with a woman he’d known barely five weeks. Why he should experience this unwavering sense of belonging, he had no idea.
But he did.
Then Lacy whispered his name, and in the next second a convulsive quiver shook her whole body.
He struggled to hold himself back, fought to hang on to one shred of control, but it was useless. Inside her, above her, he had no will of his own. Her shudder moved through him, overtook him, and he joined her, burying his face in her neck and gently calling her name.
What had they done?
Bennett woke with a start and stared in confusion at his surroundings.
Then he looked over and saw Lacy nestled in a tight ball against his chest, one fist curled under her chin.
And he panicked.
He had to get out of here.
Gently he eased his arm, which felt no more alive than a wooden stump, out from under her.
She murmured in her sleep, a lock of hair the color of melted sunshine curling across her cheek. He had the strongest urge to brush that curl away, touch that tender cheek. But if he did, he might awaken her, and he wasn’t prepared for that.
Before he faced her and told her he was going back to Houston, he wanted to get dressed. A man could make a better case for abandoning the woman he’d just made love to when he was fully clothed.
He found his boxer shorts and borrowed bathrobe—how had his clothes gotten halfway across the barn? —slipped into them and then stumbled outside. He blinked against the brightness of the noonday glare.
His head felt stuffy, his gut empty, and his conscience fired with guilt.
Running out on her, eh, Bennett?
He wasn’t a heartless heel. In fact, this was for her own good as much as his. Through his parents he had learned that you couldn’t trust emotion, that passion was suspect.
The intense feelings he had for Lacy only proved that he must leave her to save them both.
Oh, yeah? Then why did you make love to her even after you found out she was a virgin?
Why? Because he was weak. Because physically, he had wanted Lacy more than he had any other woman.
And because, he admitted to himself, he was bailing out before he got hurt.
He knew he could not stay in Texas. He had a future in Boston. Obligations there. And he’d promised himself after Nanna’s death that he would open up a heart center. He even planned on erecting a clinic on the plot of land in downtown Boston that Nanna had left him. And he’d promised himself he would never trust love born of intense passion.
A slight breeze kicked up and blew at the tufts of hair on his chest, making Bennett realize he was standing in the barnyard wearing nothing but his undershorts and Lacy’s father’s bathrobe.
Get your pants on and get out of here. Pronto. Call a taxi, rent a car, hitchhike. Hurry. Before Lacy’s family catches you half naked with this guilty look on your face.
Spurred on by that unpleasant thought, he sneaked around the barn, through the gate, and into the backyard. His single goal—his Levi’s, hanging on the clothesline.
Except when he got to the clothesline, Bennett was stunned to see Frank Sinatra calmly chewing on his blue jeans. The pesky old goat had already consumed half of one leg.
“You son of a billy goat,” Bennett shouted and stalked toward the gluttonous creature. “Get away from my pants!”
The goat stopped in mid-swallow, a hunk of denim dangling from the corner of his mouth. Bennett stormed closer, verbally berating the goat’s entire ancestry.
Frank Sinatra’s back legs stiffened. His eyes rolled back in his head. Tremors ran through his body, and then, to Bennett’s horror, the goat keeled over onto his side and lay immobile.
Bennett ran over and knelt beside the goat who did not appear to be breathing. His shouting had caused the old goat to have a heart attack.
Terrific! He’d killed Great-Gramma Kahonachek’s prize possession. He was a goat murderer. A cabrito assassin.
