by Sandra Brown
The clicking sound of metal on metal as Jared cocked the pistol arrested Kurt’s futile movements. “Are you so sure it’s empty, Vandiver?” Jared taunted.
Kurt laughed nervously. “There’s no way in hell you could have kept from firing that sixth shot as fast as you were fanning.”
“You forgot that there was one target left,” Jared said smoothly.
“Even so,” Kurt persisted, though his voice was beginning to waver and he was perspiring profusely, “everyone knows cowboys leave the first chamber empty.”
Jared shrugged negligently. “Some do. Those not confident in their abilities. In all humility, I’m not one of those.”
“The damn gun isn’t loaded!” Kurt screamed as Jared shoved the barrel further into his fleshy nose.
“Wanna bet?” Jared drawled.
With the merest movement, he turned his hand and fired the pistol only inches from Kurt’s head. The bullet embedded itself in one of the rubber tires of the car.
The blood drained from Kurt’s face and he began making a whimpering sound.
“I could have hit that last target, Vandiver, but no fool carries around an unloaded pistol.” With disdain, Jared stood up and stepped over the groveling, inert form.
“Señor Jared!” Pepe came riding up on Charger with several other riders trailing him. “Are you all right? Is the señora all right?”
He reined in the palomino stallion and slid off his back, running up to them.
“Yes, yes, we’re fine,” Jared assured him. “Had a helluva good time, too. Can’t say much for the car.” Lauren knew that he was speaking for the benefit of the curiosity seekers who had followed them. “I don’t think it’ll ever be as thrilling as galloping on Charger. And he sure as hell has better sense than to go off in a ditch.”
All of them laughed, relieved that no one was hurt. Mr. Vandiver looked a little peaked, but he was just worried about his car, they thought.
“Lauren.” Jared extended his hand and she took it. He led her to Charger and lifted her to the saddle. He mounted behind her, putting his arms firmly around her.
“Pepe, can you ride with someone back to the park?”
“Sí, Señor Jared.”
“Fine. Gentlemen.” He tipped his hat, which Pepe had retrieved for him, turned Charger around, and headed for town at a slow trot.
Chapter 18
Their escapade had created quite a commotion. They were asked hundreds of times about their well-being, despite their continued assurances to everyone that they were fine.
Sitting at a picnic table with Olivia and Carson, they ate the sandwiches that Rosa had packed for them. Jared drank locally brewed beer with the men gathered around the barrels. Lauren watched him from her place near Olivia, and was thrilled when he glanced her way and smiled. She tried hard to keep her mind on the conversations going on around her and to give the proper answers to the myriad questions being asked by the ladies of Coronado about how she liked her new life in Texas. But her mind was on Jared’s mouth, how warm it was against hers. His hands, strong, demanding, yet gentle.
While the band played a Christmas concert to mark the conclusion of the festivities, Jared sat close beside her on the blanket he had spread on the grass. His breath was on her cheek. She could smell the aroma of his cheroots, the leather of his vest. If only we could stay like this forever, she thought.
Olivia hadn’t missed the looks and the “accidental” touches between them after the madcap drive in the car. After the Vandivers had left, pleading that they had commitments in Austin, she focused all her attention on Jared and his wife. She didn’t like what she saw. Something was simmering, and it must be cooled before it came to a boil. It was dangerous to all of her plans. It must not happen!
They left late in the afternoon. Rosa had chili and cornbread waiting for them when they got home. They ate tiredly, but two of the people at the table were too exhilarated to have much of an appetite.
Carson left directly afterward, and Olivia pleaded fatigue and suggested they retire early. Lauren and Olivia walked up the stairs together, leaving Jared in the library with a nightcap.
* * *
Sometime during the night, Lauren awoke with a start. It took a moment for her to get her bearings. She listened. The house was still. She lay back down and, just as she did, she heard a groan. When a sharp cry followed it, she jumped out of bed, alarmed.
The sound came from Jared’s room. Without even pausing to put on a robe, she crept through the bathroom and tentatively knocked on the connecting door. He didn’t answer, but again she heard the rasping cry and louder moans. What if he were ill? Should she go in? She paused only an instant before she opened the door a crack and peered into the room.
Jared was thrashing on his bed, twisting and tossing in the agony of a nightmare. Lauren quickly crossed to the bed and saw his bare chest heaving, his face beaded with perspiration. The words coming out of his mouth were unintelligible, but conveyed a terrible torment. He murmured the name Alex over and over. “Jared, wake up.” Reaching out a cautious hand, she touched his shoulder and shook him slightly. “Jared, please wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
He only became more violent. He thrashed his arms and tossed his head on the pillow, his teeth bared as he gnashed them. Lauren dodged the flailing arms, but managed to capture both wrists and, leaning over, pinioned them on either side of his head.
He struggled for release, but somehow she was able to hold him. “Jared, wake up.”
He opened his eyes and, as if hinged at the waist, bolted upright. The sheet fell around his middle. Oh, my Lord, he’s naked! Lauren realized. He gulped in great amounts of air and shook his head in an effort to clear it of the tormenting dream. Shaky fingers raked through damp, tousled hair before covering his face.
Lauren slipped through the darkness to his shaving mirror on the bureau and poured fresh water from a pitcher into the basin. She moistened a towel and brought it back to the bed.
“Jared, you were having a nightmare,” she said softly, comfortingly. “Are you all right now?”
He nodded dumbly as she sponged his forehead with the cool cloth. When he lowered his hands, she bathed the rest of his face and neck.
“Thank you, Lauren. I’m fine now.” He moved away from her hands.
“Were you dreaming about Cuba? Alex?”
He looked at her sharply, then away. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. Was he trembling?
“Would you like to talk about it?” Her voice was a faint whisper. Until her fingers touched the sun-bleached curls on his head, she hadn’t realized she had reached for them.
“No,” he answered gruffly. Then, desperately, “Yes. Lauren?” His arms went around her waist in a viselike clasp, and he drew her to him, burying his face between her breasts. Her knees bumped against the bed frame.
She hesitated only a moment before cradling his head in her arms. His ragged breath was warm and moist on her skin through the thin batiste nightgown. She was grateful to the darkness for lending her a modicum of modesty. Murmuring words of comfort, she stroked his head, weaving the coarse curls through her fingers. His hands moved over her back, tracing her spine with sensitive fingers.
Long minutes passed, and still he didn’t release her. Almost imperceptibly, he moved his head between her breasts, and began nuzzling her with his nose and mouth, pressing small, hot kisses on her flesh.
A longing deeper and more potent than any emotion she had felt in her life pierced her to the core. A warm flush washed over her skin as her heartbeat accelerated.
Her limbs seemed to have turned to water, but with surprising strength, she drew his head closer yet. A soft, ecstatic cry escaped her open lips when he took her nipple into his mouth. He tugged on it gently with a sweet warmth before his tongue swept across it, wetting the fabric of her gown.
Lauren’s body was swimming with sensations and she almost melted to the floor when the strong support of his arms was suddenly withdrawn. Jared sa
t with his knees raised, his head hanging between them, his face in his hands.
“Leave me, Lauren,” he grated. His voice was so low that she could barely hear the words.
“Jared, I—”
“Leave me, please,” he repeated with a groan.
“Why? Why must I leave you… now?” She was on the verge of tears. Her emotions were running so high, her voice cracked under the pressure.
“Because, dammit,” he swore vehemently, “I can’t stand having you this close, this willing, this… naked… and not… Just go back to your room, please.”
“No, Jared,” she breathed.
He looked up then. “No?”
She swallowed hard. “I… I want to be a real wife to you, Jared.” She couldn’t help the tears that spilled down her cheeks. “I want to stay with you.”
“Lauren,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was sympathetic, like an adult speaking to a child. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I realize that! I don’t know anything about… this. But I want to know. I want to be a wife like Gloria is to Rudy. Like Maria was to Ben.” Neither of them noticed the incongruity of that statement. “Please let me stay with you tonight.”
He looked at her. Tears were rolling down her flawless cheeks, her hair was tumbling over her shoulders onto the breasts he longed to caress again, her slim figure was outlined under the sheer nightgown, and the pounding of his heart thundered through his head. His body was on fire with desire for her, and his manhood stood proudly, painfully.
He didn’t dare move when she raised one knee onto the bed and sat down close to him. She leaned forward and, resting timid hands on his shoulders, placed her lips against his.
He moaned in helplessness as he clasped her to him and fell back against the pillows on the wide bed. Drawing her beneath him, he kissed her with a searing fervor, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and exploring it with unleashed passion.
Frantically he fumbled with the buttons of her nightgown. Lauren didn’t have time to be embarrassed by her nakedness as he flung the offending garment over her head, and quickly covered her body with his.
Difficult as it was, he forced himself to practice self-control. This wasn’t a whore. This was Lauren. His wife. He must go slowly, mustn’t frighten her.
Lauren felt the long, hard body against hers relax somewhat as Jared kissed her again, leisurely this time, as if memorizing her lips and tongue and teeth. He traced kisses over her cheeks, and nibbled at her earlobe until she felt her own body turning languorous and pliant beneath him.
One large, tanned hand moved over the tops of her breasts. He cupped one gently. Her nipple became hard as the palm moved in slow, easy circles over it. He took the swollen bud between his fingers and caressed it tenderly until Lauren wanted to cry out from the pleasure he brought her, pleasure she had never known existed.
Then he enfolded her nipple in his wet, warm mouth, and drew on her with exquisite tenderness. As he moved to the other breast, his beard stubble scraped against her smoothness, heightening her awareness of their physical differences. He gave the same attention to her other breast as his hands moved to her abdomen, stroking, caressing, arousing.
It was a sensation like warm liquid being poured over her as he lowered his head and kissed her navel with an ardent, hungry mouth. His palm rested lightly on the tight nest of raven curls at the top of her legs and she wondered why she wasn’t repulsed or afraid. The feelings were so… what? She had nothing to compare this to.
His hand moved between her thighs, and Lauren was alarmed when he encountered a moistness. Apparently he found that strange wetness gratifying. He sighed and whispered, “God, Lauren, you’re ready for me. Oh how sweet you are.” The movement of Jared’s hand then took away all conscious thought. The delicious explorations of his fingers released a primitive instinct and she rotated her hips against his powerful body. When I think of this later, I’ll be so ashamed, she thought, but now, I can’t help it.
He was kissing her mouth again, tenderly, deeply, murmuring against her lips a mixture of English and Spanish. He moved on top of her and she welcomed the crushing weight by wrapping her arms around the breadth of his back. His knees gently urged her thighs apart as he settled himself between them. She felt his masculine strength as he probed the opening of her body.
A flash of panic seized her, and he was instantly aware of it. He raised his head and looked into her wide, fearful eyes, searching for the answer he hoped was there. “It’s true then? You’ve never been with a man?” His inflection was one of awe and carried with it a need to know. And she knew why her reply would be so important to him. Ben. She didn’t speak, but her lips formed the word no as she shook her head. “Lauren.” Every trace of emotion that made up the spirit of Jared Lockett went into that speaking of her name. He kissed her quickly, hotly, passionately. Then he beseeched her, “Forgive me. I’m going to hurt you, Lauren. I’m sorry.” He thrust himself inside her and she would have screamed if he hadn’t held her head protectively against the hollow of his shoulder.
The burning pain was ripping her apart, searing her insides. “I’m sorry, my darling. Relax as much as you can.”
The words were husky against her ear, and she forced muscles she didn’t know she had to relax into acceptance. The pain abated, but how long did this last?
Jared hadn’t moved. She heard his breath rushing in her ear like a strong wind. She shifted under him, seeking a more comfortable position, and heard his sharp intake of breath. “Oh, God, you feel so good,” he ground out, pressing his face into the pillow. “So tight. Perfect, perfect.”
Slowly he began to move inside her. The pain came back in rhythmic waves to match his thrusts, but somewhere amidst the pain was a promise of pleasure. Jared’s murmurings in her ear were indiscernible, but their meaning was clear.
Jared was inside her! It was a thrilling thought—his body and hers fused together in the most intimate and unifying way. Without her knowing it, her body had taken control and she was responding to his thrusts with answering movements. Suddenly his whole body tensed and she felt a shower of life flowing into her. Instinctively she squeezed her knees against his hips.
He lay spent on top of her until his breathing returned to normal. She ran her hands over his broad back, marveling at the contour of muscles, bone, and skin. Eventually he raised himself onto his elbows and looked into her eyes.
“My God, Lauren,” he whispered in wonder. “What did you do to me?”
He rolled off her and drew her to him, nestling her against his chest. They lay for a long while without speaking. His hands traveled lazily over her back, hips, and legs. The place between her thighs was still on fire, but she was content. She sighed. Placing a finger under her chin, he lifted her face to him.
“My little virgin. Did it hurt too much?”
“No,” she lied.
He tried to keep from smiling, couldn’t, and even laughed quietly. “Like hell. You are a lady to the bitter end, aren’t you?” He lowered his head and kissed her sweetly, almost chastely.
He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and walked unabashedly across the room to the dresser. Lauren studied his physique. No artist could have captured the sensual grace of Jared’s walk or the texture of his skin covered lightly with soft, tawny hair. He was a beautiful male animal and, in spite of her new awareness, she blushed.
He came back to the bed carrying a damp cloth. Kneeling beside her, he moved to open her legs. She shrank back instinctively.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently. “This may make you feel more comfortable.”
His voice was so soothing and his hands so tender that she allowed him to separate her legs and press the cloth to her. Avoiding his eyes, she stared up at the ceiling, astonished that these things were transpiring. Never in her uneducated fantasies had she imagined that such familiarity could exist between a man and a woman. Or maybe such things only happened with Jared. She riske
d a glance at her husband. He was gazing at her as though he could read her mind and knew each personal thought.
“I promise, Lauren, that it will never hurt as much again.” He smiled slightly. “You may even learn to enjoy it.”
The cooling cloth had reduced the stinging considerably, and she whispered, “Thank you,” as he took it back to the dresser.
She sat up, clutching the twisted sheet to her, and reached for her nightgown lying at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked as he crawled back beside her.
“I thought—”
“You thought what?” he interrupted, taking the garment away from her and tossing it out of her reach. He began nibbling at her shoulder as he drew her back onto the pillows. “What did you think, Lauren?” he asked thickly. His lips were at her breasts now, and she couldn’t think at all.
“I thought… uh…” Oh, Lord.
He chuckled softly. “Go to sleep.” Laying his head close to hers on the same pillow, he closed his eyes. His arm rested heavily on her stomach. His hand cupped her breast lightly.
Sleep? Not tonight. She had too much to think about. She and Jared, who had fought, argued, ignored each other, and hurt each other, were lying here side by side completely naked in his bed after experiencing the most splendid coupling, and he wanted her to sleep. Impossible.
She would never be able to sleep.
But she did.
* * *
“Good morning.”
“Hmm?”
“I said ‘good morning,’ Mrs. Lockett.”
Lauren sleepily opened one eye and saw her husband’s smiling face close to hers. The room was still wrapped in dark gray shadows. “Jared,” she mumbled in complaint, “it’s not morning. It’s still the middle of the night.” She buried her face against his hairy chest and yawned broadly.
“I love getting up first thing in the morning.” He laughed at his own double-entendre, but Lauren looked up at him with naive eyes. He realized again just how innocent she was. Still. “Lauren.” He stroked her cheek and leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.
