Renegade Man

by Parris Afton Bonds

  “What’s the matter?” The ragged sound of his breathing filled her ear. “This isn’t the way Chap made love to you?”

  She jerked away. “I told you, I don’t want it to happen like this,” she pleaded.

  His hands went to his jeans, and in the quiet room his zipper grated loudly down. Transfixed, she stared at the revealed expanse of his stomach, at how flat and hard it was. She couldn’t even remember Chap’s body now, and by the time she had met Robert, his body had lost some of its tone from sitting behind an office desk. But Jonah... Jonah was magnificent.

  She turned to flee, but he latched on to her arm. “It’s too late to change your mind.” He released her momentarily so he could draw his T-shirt over his head. “All the times this summer when you teased me, tempted me, I’ve let you off. I told myself you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into with me.” He paused. “But you did.”

  She turned her head away as his denim jeans slid lower, then fell to the floor.

  “But like I said, sweetheart,” he continued, “I’m tired of playing games.”

  Her lower lip quivered. She looked over her shoulder at him, and despite her attempts to avoid glancing in that direction, her gaze dropped to the navy blue briefs that hugged his hips—hugged them snugly enough to reveal the full extent of his arousal. “Jonah,” she whispered, tears roughening her voice, “you’re frightening me.”

  He stared at her long and hard, then raked his hand through his hair. “This wasn’t how I wanted it.” His tone was tight, harsh. He turned away and slammed his fist down on top of the dresser. At the heavy thud, she jumped. “Damn it, I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to figure you out, trying to figure out what you want, Ritz. I busted my butt playing the good guy around you, helping you out at the dig, letting you stay at my place. But that was a mistake, because all you wanted was to play the same game with me that you did twenty years ago.”

  Tears were streaming down her face. Blindly she reached out for his arm, felt him flinch at her touch. “No. I wasn’t playing games then, Jonah. Believe me. Please. And I’m not now. It’s just... it’s been so long for me.... I don’t understand the first thing about men and women today.”

  “I’d say you’re doing pretty well. You’ve got both me and Gunnerson running after you.”

  She wouldn’t let his anger fire hers. “Don’t you see... all these years when you’ve known as many women as there are ports in the world...I’ve only known Chap, then Robert, and for the last three... It’s been too lonely for too long. I don’t know you anymore. And I don’t know the ways of a man anymore. Please, show me. Teach me. Touch me.” It was the closest she could come to admitting—to either of them—what she felt for him.

  He looked back at her, and she saw him shudder. “Oh, Ritz,” he muttered. “This was such an idiotic thing to do, my coming here like this.”

  She was so afraid that he would walk past her, leaving her standing there, wanting him so badly. But her pride was hanging in shreds, and there were no words left in her; she had no power to reach out to him. She waited.

  It was he who reached out, tenderly tracing the tense tendons of her neck with his fingers. “I can’t promise that I’m any good, either, Rita-lou, but let’s give it another try.”

  He clasped her shoulders and drew her against him, his eyes searching her face as if making sure this was what she wanted. Then his mouth settled on hers in a soft, gentle kiss, melting the years, freezing her in time for just this moment.

  The kiss became wet and sweet, and when his rough tongue nudged her teeth, she took it in, feeling excitement zephyr through her. Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body as close to his as she could get. She could feel his heart thudding against her breast.

  She had waited thirty-five years for the perfect kiss. She discovered that it was a gale of wind, a riptide pulling her loose from the moorings of sanity, powerful breakers that could crumble her will.

  Finally Jonah lifted his head to gaze down at her tenderly.But his breathing was as ragged as hers. His fingers stroked her hair, ensnaring themselves in her petal-soft curls. He bent his head to inhale her sweet scent. “I was born under a wandering star, Rita-lou,” he murmured against the cloud of her hair. “I’m a roamer.”

  “I know,” she whispered, her lips pressed to his chest. Its wiry hair tickled her nose, and she tried to think about that, rather than what his words would mean to her later, when she was left alone, or the fact that, regardless of how he felt about her now, she would eventually fade in his memory, just another of his aimless sexual exploits.

  “But there’s nothing more I want to do in all the world than roam your marvelous mind and explore your lovely body,” he told her in the most incredibly sexy whisper she could ever have imagined.

  His hands slipped the robe off her shoulders. It slithered to the floor around her bare feet. For a long moment he simply stood there, loving her face with his eyes. “It takes a lot of pain to create a pearl. And that’s how I see you, Ritz. You are a pearl. You’ve been through a lot of pain, yet you have the courage to risk everything to get what you want, and you never stop trying.”

  “Touch me,” she begged, and caught his hand, placing it against her neck and thrilling at the wonderful roughness of his touch.

  He lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth, his tongue laving it until it swelled and stiffened. Her body sagged at the waves of pleasure that rolled over her, inundating her, and she clutched at his shoulders for support. He caught her easily in his arms, carrying her to her bed. She stared at him through love-dazed eyes as he shed his briefs. He was the essence of masculinity—that was the only way she could put it—hard and rough and solidly male.

  And then, as he had forewarned her, his sailor’s hands roamed her body, every inch of it, and his lips followed in the wake of his rough-tender hands—in the sensitive hollow of her neck, over the dusky peaks of her breasts, across the slight mound of her stomach. They trailed down the long, smooth planes of her thighs, and then he gently pushed her knees apart to bare her feminine secrets to his gaze.

  Reluctance rooted in cultural conditioning sent waves of embarrassment crashing through her. “I’m not nearly as beautiful as you are, Jonah.”

  He rubbed his lips against her and pleasure sent reluctance to the winds. “Oh, no, you’re perfect, with all your gifts waiting for me to cherish them.”

  Softly he parted her. “A pearl,” he whispered with a tender smile, and she knew he was trying to tease her into relaxing. “I found the most lustrous of pearls.” His head dipped so his lips could claim his silky find, and lathed it, around and around. She was suddenly awash in an agony of need.

  She called out his name and moaned other words.... She wasn’t certain. Her hands cupped his head and drew him against her. This feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced. What had been pleasurable and even reassuring in the past became a glorious celebration of sublime lovemaking with Jonah.

  At the sound of her explosive, strangled cry, he looked up, smiling cockily. “We’re just beginning, sweetheart, on our own voyage.”

  He slipped his body over hers, and she felt the smooth column of his flesh prodding against her inner thigh. She couldn’t resist the need to touch, to caress him. “It’s my turn,” she said, teasing him in turn.

  Never had she known this joyous side to lovemaking. Her hand slid down between them to grasp him, and he smothered a groan against her neck as her fingers wrapped around his sensitive shaft. She rolled from under him and buried her face against his taut flesh, inhaling deeply of his masculine scent. Then, like a greedy nestling, she opened her mouth, tasting, tormenting, delighting.

  “My God, Ritz,” he gasped, his cry hoarse and deep. He disengaged her hands, which were clasping his buttocks, and tucked her beneath him again. “I’m afraid this is going to be over before we even begin if you keep that up.”

  “I thought SEALs weren’t afraid o
f anything,” she teased, gazing up into his desire-bright eyes.

  He rubbed her nose playfully with his. “Didn’t you know? We SEALs are helpless before the sea sirens.” He caught her nipple and pulled, elongting them, and she shuddered at the depths of her pleasure. “There’s only one way to master such a mermaid.”

  “Oh?” she said, her breath rasping in her throat. “What’s that?”

  “Spread your legs,” he growled.

  She did as he ordered, and wasn’t surprised to find how ready for him she was when he sheathed himself deep inside her, taking complete possession of her. She gasped. Soft, womanly sounds welled up from some long-empty part of her, a part that he now filled.

  He lay atop her, unmoving, and she knew he was waiting for her to adjust to him. Then he began a slow, rhythmic stroking. “Sweet...so sweet,” he murmured as he moved.

  She wound her legs around his thighs and began to arch her hips, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper within her. His hands captured her hips, held them immobile. “Wait,” he said huskily, then took over again, thrusting and stroking until she could feel the explosion coming and knew there was nothing in the world she could do to hold it back. And then, just as the ancient sailors feared would happen, she fell over the edge of the world.

  She lay there gasping. Then, as her chaotic thoughts reordered themselves, she wondered how he could remain so hard and throbbing within her. When she looked up and saw his frown of concentration, she understood and blushed. Her eyes grew big. “I was selfish. You delayed for me. What do I—”

  “Hush,” he said, and covered her mouth with his.

  The first time had been slow and sweet. He took her now in a maelstrom of driving desire. She could think only of typhoons . . . tidal waves . . . whirlpools. Drowning in her passion, she looked up into his eyes to find him watching her with delight. Then she shuddered beneath him, unable to control the force of her feelings any longer.

  Suddenly his fingers dug into her shoulders and he, too, shuddered, like a great prehistoric sea beast disturbed after eons of hibernation.

  For long moments they lay entwined, chests heaving, lips parted, sweat sheening their bodies. Slowly her lids drifted open. With his head propped on one hand, he was watching her again. “That should have happened months ago. Are you sorry?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Is this what I’ve been missing all my life, sailor?”

  He chuckled. “I do my best to accommodate.”

  “That was so—so relaxing.”

  “I hope not.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe. “Because that was only the first lesson.”

  “We’re—we’re going to do it again?”

  His smoldering green eyes gleamed with amusement. “If I have my way about it.”

  His fingers slipped within her to start their love play, and she whispered thickly against his neck, “You’re addicting me to this.”

  “Then let me corrupt you some more,” he told her huskily. A quarter of an hour later, interlocked, they collided with the stars.

  * * * * *

  Careful not to disturb Jonah, she slipped from the bed. She couldn’t help but stare at his marvelous sun-browned body. In sleep his face lost some of its rough edges. He had been so exhausted these last weeks, and she wanted him to sleep as long as he could. She wanted him in her bed. Period.

  She made it no more than a foot away before his hand latched on to her wrist. “Where are you going?” he growled.

  “To shower.”

  “It’s not even daylight, for God’s sake.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m smelly and sweaty and stick—and hot besides.”

  One brow rose sardonically, contrasting with his bold smile. “And I suppose I’m at fault?”

  “Yeah, sailor boy. You could say that.” She yanked her wrist out of his grip and walked away with the sexiest swing she could manage, what with his cum slicking her innner thighs.

  “Well, I can rectify that little problem,” he said, and in two strides caught up with her at the bathroom door. He drew her against his side and pulled her through the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” she laughed.

  “Getting ready to shower you.” With his free hand he turned on the hot water, then set her on her feet, only to pin her against the tile wall. It was cold against her buttocks and shoulders, but she didn’t care, because she saw the gleam of desire burning brightly in his eyes.

  He pulled her under the warm spray with him and began to cover her shoulders with little nipping kisses. “Hmmm, good,” he said. “I’m ravenous.” “Again?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Again,” he told her, looking down at her through water-spiked lashes. Then he stilled her lips with kiss after kiss and filled her emptiness with his gentle loving.

  “All this time we wasted,” she murmured. “An entire summer we could have – ”

  “Twenty years we could have come to know each other bodies like the backs of our hands. But it’s never too late to start, I always say,” and he slid his hand between her legs, his two fingers beginning their deep sea exploration.

  “Ohhhhh, God!” she squirmed.

  “No, ‘Oh, Jonah!” he corrected, replacing his two delving fingers with hig thick jutting penis.

  * * * * *

  When next she awoke, he wasn’t beside her. She heard him foraging in the kitchen and smiled. The clink of stainless steel against dishes was a homey sound.

  She collected her robe from the floor, where he had dropped it, and knotted its belt around her waist. She found him standing in front of the open refrigerator. “Your shelves could stand replenishing, sweetheart,” he said.

  All the gentleness she had seen in his eyes earlier was absent. He had withdrawn into his loner’s world again. “Well, 1 don’t usually have to feed two!” she snapped.

  He swung the door shut. “Forget it. I can scrape together something in the camper.” He crossed to her, dipped his head and gave her a quick kiss. “See you,” he said, his face unreadable.

  She wanted tender words from him, but she wouldn’t beg. She knew he was restless, and suspected he was afraid. After all, she had had her grandfather and Trace and Robert to teach her about love. Jonah had never had anyone.

  She could only wait, and hope that he might walk back into her life again.

  Chapter 14

  Rita -lou saw Jonah twice that next week: once when he stopped by the dig to see if she needed anything from town—she told him coolly that she didn’t—and another time as he was entering the Buffalo Barbershop. Both times he looked supremely invulnerable.

  She felt cheapened. Her earlier understanding of his apparent indifference had shriveled to a hard knot of agony in her chest. I deserve this, she thought. I hurt Jonah twenty years ago, and now the tables have turned.

  She hadn’t intentionally set out to hurt him, but what he had done had certainly been intentional. Oh, maybe he hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he’d certainly had every intention of having one last fling with her. But what about her feelings? Was he so cynical, so callous, that he didn’t care that he had trampled on her heart in order to prove to himself that he could walk away from her without a second thought?

  She sat in the kitchen and laboriously coded artifacts. It was Friday night, and she should have gone into town and assuaged her loneliness at the Border Cowboy. She supposed that instead she would work through the weekend. Suddenly Magnum sprang up from his favorite position on the braided rug, his ears pointed, his stance alert.

  “What is it, fella? Someone coming?”

  She laid down her pen to listen. Then she heard the car engine that had alerted the dog. In spite of her efforts to kill all hope regarding Jonah, a glimmer of anticipation was kindled inside her. Dressed only in jeans and a lightweight sweater, she rose from the ladderback chair and padded barefoot across the room to the window. Before she could peer out, there was a rapping on the door. “Who is it?” she calle
d.

  “Jonah. Open up.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her body responded with electrical excitement. Why did she let herself go through this? “What do you want?”

  “To talk—about a proposition.”

  “As in business? Or as in soliciting sexual favors?”

  “Cut out the smart talk and open up.”

  She had no willpower. She undid the lock and opened the door. He stood with his hands jammed in his pockets, the collar of his white windbreaker turned up against the late-night chill. “Come on in,” she said stiltedly.

  He moved past her, and she could feel the way her body reacted to him—the heat creeping through every part of her, the heightened sensitivity of her skin, its fine hairs rising to erotic attention.

  Magnum trotted over to stand patiently at the tall man’s side, wanting a signal of recognition from him. Jonah reached down and scratched the dog’s head. “You’re looking better, pal.”

  “Coffee?” she asked casually, strolling past him into the kitchen. Her heart was racing, but she was determined not to show her elation.

  “No. I can’t stay long. I’m on my way into Silver City.”

  This late at night? Hope drained out of her. She stopped at the table and turned to face him. There was an unmistakable aura of male vitality about him that made her weak with raw, dizzying hunger. How could she think of him this way, she wondered, when he was doubtless going to call on one of the Silver City belles that night? She was totally disgusted with herself.

  She drew a fortifying breath. “All right. You said you wanted to talk.”

  He looked tense, or maybe it was just her imagination. No, he looked as if he was bracing himself for something. Hell, he looked rough and male and intensely desirable. “Since it seems that C.B. is dead serious about driving you out of Toma—”

  “Oh? You’re just now willing to admit that fact?”

  He fixed her with the chilling blast of his icy green gaze. “Would you mind shutting up until I can finish, Rita-lou?”