The Drifter

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Pretty impressive equipment, Bart,” he said with obvious pride as he gazed down at the naked little boy squirming on the bed between them.

  “As if that’s the measure of a man.” Amanda fastened the adhesive tabs on the diaper and reached for the soft cotton shirt she’d laid on the bedside table.

  “Hey, it’s a start.” Chase leaned toward the baby and whispered, “Don’t let her kid you, Bart, old buddy. They all say they don’t care about size and pretend it’s our hang-up. But I’ve seen Playgirl magazine. They care.”

  Bartholomew gurgled and grabbed Chase’s nose. Chase cried out in mock pain as Bartholomew crowed and tugged harder. Amanda laughed and wished she had a camera. Then she realized that she’d just had the urge to record Chase and Bartholomew together on film. If anyone saw that, one picture would be worth a thousand words.

  “So you think you can lead people around by the nose?” Chase eased the baby’s fingers loose. “I’ll bet your mother taught you that trick.” He glanced up at Amanda and gave her a wink.

  “I beg your pardon.” She tried to adopt his bantering tone as she popped the shirt over Bartholomew’s head. But her heart was too full from watching them together.

  “Then again, maybe it hasn’t been my nose you’ve been leading me around by,” he said softly, his teeth flashing white in the pale light as he smiled at her. “It might be something a bit lower. I wasn’t very good at anatomy in school.”

  She scooped Bartholomew up and slid out of bed. “But I imagine you were very good at anatomy after school was out.” She turned toward the cradle.

  “No comment. But what about you, Amanda? Did you kiss the boys and make them cry?”

  She adjusted the blanket in the cradle, not feeling very comfortable talking about her romantic past, or lack of it. “My story is pretty dull. You’d get bored in a heartbeat.” She settled Bartholomew down on the blanket and rocked him gently with one hand.

  “Try me.”

  “I was quiet, a bookworm. Always writing, drawing, reading. When I wasn’t doing that, I was riding my horse. And I was—still am—a feminist. I saw dating and marriage as a trap for women, so I didn’t aim in that direction.”

  “Never even engaged?”

  “Once. It didn’t work out.” She gazed down at Bartholomew. She’d never seen him so relaxed, as if the doting attention of both parents was exactly what he needed. Gradually, his eyes drifted closed. She rocked a while longer before standing and walking back to the bed. “From the way I acted in the truck that night, you probably thought I was a real swinging chick, but I’m not. I’d never behaved that way before.”

  He reached out and caught her hand, drawing her back down to the bed. “That’s what made you different,” he murmured, curving his arm around her waist and urging her against him until they were pressed together in sweet tension. “You were scared and excited at the same time.” He massaged the length of her spine as he talked. “I figured the only times you’d ever been to bed with a man were after you’d known him a long time.”

  “That’s true.” Barely tamped desire flared at his touch, sending heated signals that tightened her nipples and moistened the pulsing channel he had so recently explored. “You were an adventure,” she said. “My one chance to be a naughty girl.”

  Chase cupped her bottom with both hands, kneading her flesh. “And was I wild enough for you?”

  Her body grew languorous and willing as his erection pressed against her belly. “You were...very nice.”

  “The hell with nice.” He adjusted his body to hers, positioning her so that his shaft separated the folds of her femininity. “Nice is what those other guys were, the ones you had dinner with a million times before you let them touch you like this.” His movements were subtle but powerful as he eased up and down, connecting with her most sensitive spot without entering her.

  She grew breathless with the mounting tension. His ability to bring her to flashpoint so quickly was unnerving. “You were incredible,” she managed to say.

  “So were you,” he said in a gruff voice. “Inexperience isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  “Chase.” She gripped him urgently. “Kiss me, Chase, before I wake...the baby.”

  He muffled her cries with his mouth as a climax shattered the last of her reserve. As the quivering subsided, he moved from her lips to the curve of her ear. “Are you getting warmed up?” he whispered.

  She sighed. “I think so.”

  “I was hoping you were. There are a few things I’d like you to do for me.” Then he murmured his requests, requests that turned the blood that was already singing through her veins into molten lava. His loving had removed all shame. Rising over him, she satisfied the first of his wishes by trailing her fiery hair over him, tickling and tantalizing his chest, his inner thighs, his quivering erection. She wrapped her hair around that throbbing shaft and drew it away slowly, judging the effect by the rasp of his breathing and the clenching of his hands.

  Then she used her tongue on his muscular body, laving his tanned skin until he was quivering in anticipation. His control was incredible. When she touched his shaft with the tip of her tongue, all she heard was an intake of breath—between clenched teeth. She took her time. After all, he’d asked her to. But at last she heard a muted plea of “enough.”

  She slid up to kiss his mouth and he rolled her to her back in a fierce embrace.

  “Any more experience and you’ll be dangerous,” he gasped, looming over her, his eyes glittering.

  She laughed softly, triumphantly, and arched her breasts upward in invitation.

  With a moan he accepted the invitation, sending reverberations spiraling downward to her heated center as he sucked.

  “Come to me,” she begged, abandoning all modesty. “I want you inside me.”

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his breathing harsh. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”

  His words set off skyrockets in her head. “Neither have I. Oh, Chase, what are we going to do?”

  The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I know what we’re going to do right this minute.” He reached for one of the condoms on the table.

  Bartholomew stirred and started to cry.

  Chase paused in midmotion. “Maybe not just this minute.”

  “I’ll try rocking him.” Battling her frustration, Amanda rolled to her stomach and reached for the edge of the cradle. She rocked it slowly, easing Bartholomew back into sleep. Behind her, cellophane crinkled, and she trembled just thinking of Chase sheathing himself, Chase waiting for her.

  He trailed a finger down her backbone. “How’s he doing?” he murmured.

  “Going back to sleep.” She stopped rocking as Bartholomew’s breathing grew steady. At last she removed her hand from the edge of the cradle with a sigh.

  “Time to go off duty for a while,” Chase said. Caressing her bottom, he slipped his hand between her thighs and probed gently until he gained the entrance he sought. With deft fingers he stroked, and she unconsciously lifted herself into the caress.

  His breath caught. His knee brushed hers as he moved behind her and guided her farther upward, caressing, encouraging her with soft endearments. Heart racing, body pounding with urges outside her experience, she complied, rising to her knees and offering herself in a way that reached back beyond the rules of civilization, to a time of caves, flickering fires and base needs satisfied.

  When he eased into her, she gasped at the primitive carnality of the gesture. The lust of animals flowed through her, and she took her lip between her teeth to keep from crying out her fevered response. His hips tight against her buttocks, he slid his hand over her thigh and into the moist valley where her pleasure point lay. And she dimly recognized that this was the difference that separated such a basic act from the mating of animals—he would give while he took. She became sensation itself as he moved rhythmically inside her and coaxed her to greater heights with firm pressure from his fingers.

  As th
e tempo increased, she fought to be silent, knowing from muffled groans that he waged the same war. When the moment came, she pressed her lips together and whimpered. She heard his gasp, his final, shuddering thrust, and she absorbed the pulsing impact of his climax. They trembled together for a moment before he withdrew and she sank to the cool sheets, her body sapped of the will to move.

  He left the bed for only a moment, and soon he was back, lying beside her and smoothing her hair from her face.

  She gave him a sated smile. “I think that qualifies as wild enough.”

  He smiled back, a lazy, contented smile. “Did I shock you?”

  “A little.”

  He brushed a finger across her lower lip. “Good.”

  “Are you setting out to shock me?”

  “I’m setting out to show you what you’ve been missing.”

  * * *

  AS LONG AS the room remained dark, Amanda could allow feelings to override thoughts, touch to supplant words. But toward dawn, as objects in the room took on a sharper edge, so did the meandering of her mind. Chase dozed beside her, an arm flung over her waist. She liked the weight of it there far too much. She still had no idea if this drifter lying beside her had decided to change his wandering ways, and what it meant to her future if he had.

  The passion they’d generated through the night could all be the work of an accomplished lover seducing a woman who’d lived like a nun for almost a year. Yet she suspected something far more complex had happened in the large four-poster bed. Originally, Chase had been no more than a fantasy figure, a sexy blue-collar worker willing to provide earthy, inhibition-shattering sex. But in the past two days he’d become so much more to her—a man who’d struggled against the odds to establish an identity, a father capable of incredible gentleness toward his child and a tender partner in lovemaking, a partner willing to put aside past hurts for present pleasure.

  By some miracle, Chase Lavette had emerged from his unhappy background with a generous spirit. Far more generous than hers, Amanda admitted with chagrin. Yet in the warmth of Chase’s arms, her reservations melted away and she began to dream of ways they could be together, all three of them. And as well, she wasn’t ready to abandon the search for his family. The information was still important for Bartholomew’s sake, but she thought it was important for Chase, too. Everyone had some good news in their background. She wanted to help Chase find his.

  The telephone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She picked up the antique handset and answered in a muted voice.

  Ry was on the other end, sounding frazzled. “Amanda? I hate like the devil to bother you this early, but is Chase there?”

  The realization that everyone on the True Love would know Chase had spent the night gave her a mild shock. She wasn’t used to people knowing her intimate business. “Yes, he is.” She covered the mouthpiece and glanced at Chase, who lay with his head on his outstretched arm, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “It’s Ry.” She handed him the receiver.

  Chase took it and rolled to his back, tugging the cloth-covered cord across Amanda. “This better be important, bridegroom.” He turned his head to look at Amanda and noticed the spiral cord stretched across her bare breasts. With a little smile he eased the cord back and forth across her nipples, which snapped to attention at the casual contact.

  How easily he demonstrated his power over her. She would have resented that power if she hadn’t glanced down and noticed his penis stir and gradually stiffen as he gazed at her breasts.

  “Sure, I’ll do that,” Chase said. “No problem. How is everyone this morning?” He drew the cord across her breast more slowly this time. “Glad to hear it. Yeah, I’ll pick them up by seven and be back before eight. Don’t worry, nobody wants to miss watching you get branded, buddy. See you soon.” He took the receiver from his ear.

  She reached for it, disappointed that he’d referred to Ry’s marriage vows as “getting branded.” Maybe she’d better rein in her thoughts of a close relationship with this drifter. They’d had good sex. Perhaps that was all they were to have together. “Want me to hang that up for you?”

  “Not when things are becoming interesting.” He propped himself on his elbow and dragged the cord over her nipple one more time. “Maybe not at all. We don’t need any calls right now.”

  Her breathing quickened. “Don’t you have to leave?”

  “Not yet.” He curled the cord around the fullness of her breast. “Ry needs me to pick up Belinda and Dexter at the hospital, but it’s only a little after five now.” He pulled the cord a little tighter and looked into her eyes. “How come the phone didn’t wake up the little guy?”

  “He’s used to that noise, I guess.” Her eyes widened as he drew the cord down between her legs. “At the apartment I get a lot of calls...” She gasped as he slid the cord into the cleft of her femininity. “...from work.”

  “Sounds like you needed this vacation.” He laid the receiver between her legs and drew the cord gently upward, making sure each ascending spiral teased her to a higher level of arousal. Then he picked up the receiver and drew the cord down again.

  She was aflame for him. “Chase, you’ll get the telephone cord—”

  “Wet? Looks like it.”

  “But the management...” She moaned as he eased the cord back down.

  “I am the management, sweetheart.” He pulled the cord in a little tighter. “There, that should mark my place for a minute. Don’t move.” He kept his gaze on her as he put on the condom. She didn’t move, but her body hummed like an engine that had been started and needed only the slightest touch on the throttle to leap forward.

  Then he was back, moving between her thighs, replacing the telephone cord with his fingers, but leaving the receiver beside them on the bed, off the hook. “Just where I left off,” he whispered. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Good...morning,” she whispered back, arching into his caress. She’d thought this morning they’d talk, but he didn’t seem to want to leave time for that.

  Lifting her hips still more he slid into her effortlessly.

  Through a sensuous haze she looked up into his face. Unspoken words of love trembled on her lips, words that might drive him away. After all, he wouldn’t want to risk being branded like his partner Ry. “You’re very good at this, cowboy,” she murmured instead.

  A shadow seemed to cross his expression, almost as if she’d insulted him, somehow. His jaw tensed. “You bet I am, babe,” he said, his tone almost harsh. Then he loved her hard, wringing a response from her, taking his own pleasure, and leaving her feeling strangely empty. He departed the cottage with few words. Amanda stared at the closed door as tears burned her eyes and the dreams she had begun to weave hung in tatters around her.

  * * *

  BETWEEN BRINGING Dexter and Belinda home and helping the hands with the horses, Chase kept busy prior to the wedding. But he still had time to think and cool off a little. Amanda probably hadn’t meant her remark the way it had sounded, but after she’d said it, he’d thought she saw him as just another hunk of meat, the way women had been reacting to him all his life. Not so long ago that had been okay, and had even given him bragging rights with the truckers he knew. But for the first time in his life he wanted more than sex from a woman. He wanted lovemaking. He had no practice asking for that, and it took so little to send him running for cover. Maybe sometime during the day he’d work up the courage to talk to her, really talk.

  As his last chore before the wedding, he’d volunteered to drive a buggy from the corrals to the main house while Duane and the hands led the string of horses. The buggy was for Dexter and Belinda, so they could make it out to the homestead site.

  When he arrived, the wedding party was milling around in the front yard, men and women separated into same-sex groups while Duane and Leigh tried to keep some order. The men wore brightly patterned western shirts, while the women had opted for broomstick skirts and fluffy blouses. All except Amanda, whose t
urquoise dress was probably a designer number from Fifth Avenue. She stood talking to Belinda with Bartholomew held against her shoulder.

  As she turned to shade the baby from the sun, the light caught in her red hair and Chase’s heart wrenched with longing. He wanted to go over and apologize for his abruptness this morning, but now wasn’t the time, not with so many people around. Amanda spoke to Freddy, who moved restlessly though the crowd of women. She wore a dress of snowy lace decorated with long white fringe that danced as she walked. Ry had told him that Freddy’s outfit had been modified from a dress that had belonged to her grandmother. Freddy had added a white Stetson draped with a white scarf and white lace-up granny boots.

  It wasn’t much of a mental stretch for Chase to imagine Amanda in bridal white, but he shoved the image aside, frightened by the unfamiliar desires it produced in him. Wanting something you might never have was dangerous.

  Ry stood in the center of the group of men. He looked hot, but he’d insisted on wearing a black western jacket over his white shirt and black western-cut slacks. Love did crazy things to a man, Chase thought. Dexter stood nearby, balancing himself on his walker.

  Duane’s call for attention got nowhere. Finally, he hopped up on the three-foot wall surrounding the yard and whistled through his teeth. “That’s more like it,” he said as everyone turned in his direction. “Now, I got to tell everybody—you’re responsible for yer own horse.” He paused, and notwithstanding his new shirt and bolo tie, spat into the dirt. “They’re all saddled and ready to go, but some of ‘em tend to blow out, so before you get aboard, check that cinch. Everybody know how to do that?”

  A chorus of confirming shouts made Chase grin and shake his head. These dudes would sooner die than admit they didn’t know their way around horses. He could identify. Six weeks ago he’d been the same way. He made a mental note to check Amanda’s cinch, although she might be the one greenhorn who would know how. She’d had her own horse, after all. Probably was also given a sports car when she was sixteen and had tuition paid to a fancy college. He needed to remember all that when he was spinning fantasies involving Amanda.