by Susan Fox
He was torturing her, yet he was fulfilling a deep need. He was her dream lover, yet he was her oldest friend. He was her love.
Now he began to move faster, harder. Her brain shut down. Her body took over and rose to meet his. She was tripping close to the edge, almost ready to tumble, when she heard him groan and felt him shudder. His movements, so intense, so uncontrollable, pushed her over the edge and she climaxed gloriously.
When she opened her eyes, it was to see him gazing into them. “Oh, Ev, that was—”
“Too quick. I’m sorry, Jess. I’ve been wanting you all week. I lost control.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“Seems to me control’s the last thing you want when you’re making love.” She gave a shivery sigh. “It was wonderful.”
“God, it felt good. You’re fantastic.”
She felt a twinge of melancholy. If he really was her dream lover, he’d be whispering words of love.
He rolled off and got up. She sighed. Back to reality. From the bathroom she heard the tub gurgle as he let the water out. She hauled the duvet back on the bed and climbed under it. He returned and handed her a glass of water. It was cold and tasted wonderful.
“I’m starving,” she said, surprised to realize it.
He laughed. “How romantic.”
Just about as romantic as saying, “God, it felt good” and draining the tub, she figured, but sometimes a gal needed to keep her mouth shut.
“No dinner?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Me neither. Hang on a minute.”
When he returned, she crowed with delight.
“Scoot over,” he said.
When she did, he placed a platter in the center of the duvet. Her stomach growled at the array of cold meats, cheeses, and buns, as well as fruit and cookies. He went out again and this time came back with a couple of bottles. “Mango–passion fruit or strawberry-ginseng?”
“Yum. Mango–passion fruit. Where did all this come from?”
“Kathy. It was here when I got back from the hospital.”
He retrieved a couple of pillows that had fallen on the floor and they propped themselves up, covers to their waists, torsos bare.
“I love picnics,” she said.
“I’ve never had a picnic in bed.”
Aha, that was one thing she had over sophisticated Cynthia.
Picnicking with a naked Jess was a sensual, fun experience. They licked crumbs from each other’s chests and fed each other strawberries. When they’d polished off everything Kathy had brought, Evan took the platter out to the living room and deposited it on the coffee table.
He realized he’d never drawn the curtains and was standing there naked. He moved closer to the window. Outside, there was nothing but tall trees, twinkly stars, and a fat crescent moon. The view was serene and lovely. He wanted to share it with Jess, then felt foolish. She saw this sky every night of her life.
A sense of unreality hit him. He had just made love with Jess Bly Cousins. And it had felt perfectly natural. Perfectly . . . perfect. Much better than it had ever been with any other woman. More arousing and intense, but also more comfortable, more fun. He could be himself with Jess. He could even laugh.
When he went back to the bedroom, she greeted him with a jaw-stretching yawn. Obviously, she figured she could be herself with him, too.
For a moment he thought of all the problems that remained unresolved. Robin, and what role he might play in her life. His mission for Gianni. Jess’s career plans. He was sure there were more issues between them, but for the moment his brain didn’t want to explore them.
The duvet covered her to the waist. Above it, her breasts were pale and delectable, contrasting attractively with the tanned skin of her neck, face, and arms. Her long, shiny hair lay tangled on her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed. He could have stood in the doorway and watched her forever, except that she was beckoning him back to bed. Between yawns.
He climbed under the covers and she cuddled into his arms.
“So tired,” she murmured as he reached to click the light off.
When Jess woke again, the bedside clock told her she’d been asleep less than an hour. She slipped from the bed and checked in with the hospital. When she came back, Evan’s voice came out of the darkness. “She okay?”
“Yes.” She slid in beside him and clicked on a bedside lamp. “Evan, what do you intend to do about Robin?”
He whistled softly. “That’s a good question.” He propped himself up on pillows and stacked his hands behind his head. “I haven’t thought it through, but . . . There’s no point arguing about whether you should have told me or what I might have done. The fact is, Robin grew up believing Dave to be her father.”
Where had her passionate lover gone? This man was speaking evenly, dispassionately. The old Evan, who made rational decisions, not emotional ones.
“You say Dave’s been a great father, right?”
“Yes,” she murmured, feeling sorry for Evan.
“The important thing is Robin. Not my ego, not Dave’s.”
“Yes.”
He nodded, and maybe it was just a trick of the lighting, but she thought he looked sad. “I can’t see how it would help her to learn that the man she’s called dad really isn’t, and her true father’s a stranger who ran out on her mom and her.”
“You didn’t run out on her. You never knew.”
He shrugged. “Robin’s best off believing what she’s always believed. There’s no reason for anything to change.”
No reason. “Don’t you . . . care?” she ventured.
He shook his head impatiently. “How can I care? I don’t know Robin. You made sure of that. I’ve barely laid eyes on her.”
His words stung, and she sensed they hurt him as much as they pained her. Yes, he was trying to be objective, but his emotions were engaged. Testing, she said, “You don’t want anything to do with her?”
He drew in a shaky breath and, before he blinked, she thought she saw moisture sheen his eyes. “I’d like to know how she’s doing. I’ll donate blood so you can keep more on hand. I want you to promise that if there’s ever anything she needs, anything you and Dave can’t provide, you’ll let me know.”
Jess’s heart ached for the boy, the man, who’d never had a proper family. But her first priority was Robin. She touched Evan’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Of course.” But he didn’t sound it.
With a sigh, she rested her head on his chest. He didn’t drop his arm to curve it around her. Instead he clicked off the light. “Get some sleep, Jess.”
The idea was tempting, but this would likely be the only night she spent with him. She didn’t want to waste it. If only she could find a way of reaching Evan across the invisible barrier he’d erected. She combed her fingers through his sprinkling of chest hair—so much more masculine than a bare chest—deliberating. Then inspiration struck. She pulled away and slid out of the bed.
“Jess? Don’t go. Not yet.”
Well, that was a hopeful sign. “Oh, I’m not going far.” She put on a drawl. “Just hold your hosses, pawdner.”
She retrieved Evan’s bathrobe from the floor and slipped it on. Then she found the cowboy boots he had pulled off her feet. She headed for the cabin door, shivered in the night air, and scampered for her truck.
Chapter Fifteen
Two minutes later Jess was back in the bedroom. Evan was sitting up in bed under the duvet, his arms folded across his chest. “What’s going on?”
She grinned at his puzzled expression but didn’t respond except to slide the robe off her shoulders.
“Okay, I’m awake,” he said, his gleaming eyes telling her she’d succeeded in breaching that invisible barrier. “Get in here.”
She reached outside the door for the old Resistol hat she’d brought in from the truck, and planted it on her head. “Boots and a hat—a cowgal’s necessaries,” she said. “Who needs clothes
?”
He was grinning now, too. “Let me guess, you’re planning on doing a little riding?”
Relieved that she’d pulled him out of his funk, she ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. “If I can find a worthy mount.”
“A noble steed?”
“Smooth gaits,” she murmured. She wished she could leave her boots on, but they were too dang dirty. She yanked them off and climbed onto the bed beside him. “Stamina. Vigor. A sweet personality, but lots of spirit. Perfect breeding.”
She tilted her head to study him. “Strong teeth . . .”
He laughed.
She leaned forward to drop a kiss on his laughing mouth.
“Good breadth between the eyes.” She kissed his forehead. “Suggests there’s a brain in there.”
“Ears . . .” She stroked back his hair and examined one. She kissed it, ran her tongue around the edge, and he twitched and gave a little groan. “Sensitive, receptive. All very good.” She teased his other ear, then finger combed his hair. “Glossy coat.”
Sitting back on her heels, she peeled the duvet down a few inches. “Powerful shoulders.” She gave each a kiss, then stripped him down to his waist and nodded approvingly. “Good depth of chest. Yes, stamina should be just fine.”
His body shook with laughter.
It stopped when she leaned forward to take a nipple in her mouth. Holding the Resistol with one hand so it didn’t tip off, she sucked and felt him writhe. Felt a matching surge of arousal in her own body. She released him and murmured, “Nice markings.” She sucked his other nipple, then sat back and said, “Roll over.”
“What?”
She yanked the duvet off, noting the proud thrust of his erection, feeling the tingly ache in her sex. She whacked him gently on the hip. “Over now, there’s a good boy.”
He chuckled and obliged. She ran her hands over his buttocks. “Well muscled,” she murmured in appreciation. “Oh yeah, you’re a strong one.”
She nipped one of his butt cheeks and he yelped. Then she ran her hands down the back of his legs, stroking and massaging the muscles. Desire was building in her, and it was all she could do to stop herself from moaning the way he was.
“Let’s see the other side again,” she said.
Obligingly he rolled for her. She glanced from his eye-catching erection to his face, and smiled at the gleam in his eyes.
“So far, so good?” he asked.
She pursed her lips and pretended to consider. “Yes, I’d have to say this is looking to be a fine specimen.” She let her glance flick below his waist. “Measuring up quite well.”
He was indeed, and she was dying to have him inside her, but it was fun prolonging the torture.
She worked down the fronts of his legs with her hands, enjoying the firmness of his muscles, the tickle of little hairs against her fingers. “Well-shaped legs, well-muscled. Good balance, I’d guess, as well as strength.”
He chuckled. “Are you almost done with this inspection? Or is there something you’ve overlooked?”
She straddled his thighs and reached down between them, finally allowing herself to caress the soft skin that covered his strong shaft. He sighed with pleasure and she gave a contented “Mmm.”
“So, lady, are you buying this horse?”
“Not without taking a test ride.”
He gave a sexy chuckle. “Going to put me through my paces?”
She grinned back. “Am I in for a wild ride?”
“Only if that’s what you want.” His voice was husky. “The rider’s in control, right?”
“But the mount has ultimate power, because he’s bigger and stronger.”
“All this mount wants to do is please you.”
“Oh, Evan, you definitely do that.”
“Then tell me what you’d like me to do. Or better still, show me.”
She reached for a condom package. “I’d love to ride you bareback, but . . .” As she said the words, an image of herself pregnant with Evan’s child flashed into her head. She sucked in a shuddery breath. She could do it again—get pregnant—this time deliberately. It was the right time of month. It had happened before from making love with him just once.
No! What was she thinking?
She put the packet to her mouth and ripped it open with her teeth, then flung the wrapper to the floor. With painstaking slowness, she sheathed him.
“Am I allowed to touch the rider?” he asked.
She considered, then shook her head. If he caressed her breasts, ran those seductive fingers up her thighs, she’d lose control. This time, she wanted to set the pace.
“Trust me,” she murmured. “Let me take you for a ride and I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
She grasped him confidently and he groaned. “I don’t doubt it for a moment. Just try not to torture your mount, okay?”
“I’m a very considerate rider. For example”—she lifted up and leaned forward, hovering over him—“we’ll start out nice and slow. You always start a ride with a nice slow walk, to get warmed up.”
She lowered her body slightly, guiding the tip of him inside her. She eased down a touch more, then again, absorbing him with a slowness that was both ecstasy and agony.
Evan put his hands behind his head and watched as she finally seated herself fully. “You’re beautiful, Jess.”
She straightened, feeling the warmth of his gaze caress her body.
“Beautiful posture,” he murmured. “Now, how does it go? Ear, shoulder, hip, heel? Seems to me, your heels are a little far back.”
She pressed them into his legs. “The better to spur you on.”
She rotated her hips and flexed muscles deep inside her body, and he groaned and thrust upward. She patted his hip gently. “Slow down now.”
“You spurred me on,” he pointed out. “With those bony heels of yours.”
“They aren’t.” She twisted back to look at one. “Okay, maybe they are.” And then she got down to business, setting a slow, tantalizing pace that soon had both their bodies slick with sweat. Evan obeyed her, lying still—or as still as he could—as she raised and lowered, pressed and released, curved sideways then straightened. She used her own arousal as her guide, building the pitch, then easing off again, somehow trusting that Evan’s needs, his self-control, would match hers.
“Ready for a little trot?” she murmured.
“Ready for a full-out gallop.” His voice was husky with desire.
“All things in good time.”
Jess speeded her motion, feeling both their bodies tense as they neared the finish line. She rested a hand on his chest over his heart, palming the throbbing pulse, and breathed deeply, filling her nostrils with the musky tang of their passion. She was close, so close.
“Are we ready for that gallop?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
She forced herself to slow, then stop moving. She sat across his body, feeling the strong jut of him inside her, pulling herself back from the edge. “Remember my lessons? You don’t go straight from a trot to a gallop. You collect the horse first.”
His face was flushed; his eyes were bright.
“Are you collected, Evan?”
He gave a growl of frustration, but she saw the twinkle in his eyes. He was enjoying this game as much as she was.
She lifted slightly and reached below her, capturing his firm balls and squeezing gently.
His head went back and his body bucked under her.
“Trying to throw me off?” she teased.
“This horse wants to gallop. Now.”
“Well, if you’re that full of energy . . .”
She moved again, quickening the pace until he could no longer hold back and his body lifted from the bed, thrusting uncontrollably into her, reaching the deepest parts of her body and soul, bringing her sensations and emotions all rushing together as she and Evan raced toward the same goal.
She tossed off her hat and let out a whoop, and he laughed with joy. Then his breath cau
ght and he gasped, “Oh, Jess!” just as she began to climax around him. She threw back her head, letting the waves of pleasure surge through her as he thrust hard, again and again, into her very core.
After, when they’d both ridden out the tremors, she collapsed in a mindless heap on top of him.
His chest heaved, slippery with sweat, curls of hair tickling her breasts. Her own body still throbbed with sensation. Occasional spasms, aftershocks, rocked her. Evan’s arms were around her, holding her as if he’d never let her go. How she wished it were true. Finally, both their bodies settled and they lay still.
Somehow she found the strength to slide off him and lie beside him.
He dealt with the condom, then put his arm around her. “Jess?”
“Hmm?” It came out as a contented, sleepy purr and she smiled against his chest.
“About this boot camp thing . . .”
She tensed. Didn’t he have any damned sense of the moment? He was supposed to be feeling all mellow and loving. “Uh-huh?” she muttered warily.
“Are you really serious about it?”
She moved away from him, sitting up, reaching up to drag her fingers through her tangled hair and pull it back. “Well, sure. What do you mean?”
He lay on his side, watching her. “You used to have all those dreams. Racehorses, rodeo, riding schools. I just wondered if . . . you like having a dream to . . . well, dream, or if you really do want to make it work.”
She released her hair, letting it tumble to her shoulders. “I’ve thought about that, this past week. I really want it and I’m prepared to do whatever needs to be done. This isn’t just another dream.” No wonder no one else had taken her dreams seriously, when she never had herself. Firmly, she added, “This is the one I’m going to make a reality.”
“All I’m saying is, be sure. You have a good job here, and you’re terrific at it. There’s nothing wrong with chucking an old dream in favor of a new one.”
Oh, Evan, would you please listen to your own words?
