Lone Star Country Club: The Debutantes

by Beverly Barton

  “Look, Brent!” Jenna shouted. “Up ahead. On the left. It’s a sign of some sort. It must be a minimart or something.”

  As they crept nearer to the sign, Brent was able to make out the flashing neon letters. M-o-t-e-l. He slowed almost to a standstill, then turned left, hoping he was headed into the parking area.

  “It’s a motel,” Jenna said, peering through the windshield. “Twin Pines Motel.”

  Brent killed the motor, then turned to Jenna. “You wait here and I’ll see if they’ve got a couple of rooms. We can stay the rest of the night and head back to Mission Creek in the morning.”

  While Jenna waited, she thought about their trip across the border. She’d already grown tired of walking on the wild side. But she’d pretended to want more and more excitement because she had been afraid that if she admitted the truth, Brent would think he’d done his job as her protector and stop seeing her. After what nearly happened at the La Casa Rojo tonight, she knew she’d be happy to never see the inside of a roadhouse again. Just thinking about those two guys who’d tried to stop them from leaving sent nervous chills along her nerve endings. But Brent had been so brave—and fiercely protective. She knew just enough Spanish to say hello, goodbye and where is the rest room? But she hadn’t needed to know the language to realize that Brent had threatened those men’s lives. And they had sensed how serious his threat was.

  When Brent jerked the truck door open and jumped inside, a gush of cool wind and chilling rain came in with him. “They had only one room available. They’re filled to capacity since so many folks have stopped here because of the storm.”

  “One room’s fine with me.” She couldn’t suppress a girlish giggle.

  “Don’t get any ideas, honey. We’re taking shelter from the storm and nothing else.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  He held up a key. “We’re in Room 5.” He cranked up the motor and carefully eased the old truck along the one-story concrete building until he found an empty parking place. “We’ll just have to get out and hunt for our room.”

  She nodded, then when he opened the door and jumped down, she slid under the steering wheel and hopped out of the truck right behind him. Brent quickly locked the door and grabbed Jenna’s arm.

  Making a mad dash up the sidewalk, they ran past Rooms 3 and 4. Brent inserted the key in the lock of Room 5, flung open the door and ushered Jenna inside; then closed, locked and bolted the door.

  Once inside the warm, humid, dark room, Brent felt for the wall switch, but found none. The blinking neon sign shining through the open blinds covering the wide window gave off a minimum of light through the rain; but enough so that Jenna could make her away around the room until she encountered a lamp on the nightstand. When she flipped the switch, the forty-watt bulb shined eerily through the orange and yellow striped shade. Brent and Jenna stared at each other, then burst into laughter.

  “We look like a couple of drowned rats,” he said.

  A horrendous clap of thunder boomed nearby. Jenna gasped. “This has to be the worst storm ever. I’ve never seen such wide bands of lightning. And it’s raining so hard, you’d think it was coming a flood.”

  “My bet is that there’s flash flood warnings out.” Brent inspected the room, then eased open the bathroom door and peeped inside. “Not exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but it’s clean and dry. And there are plenty of towels in the bathroom. Why don’t you go on in first and dry off? You can hang your things on the shower rod and maybe they’ll be dry by morning.”

  “Okay. But, Brent?”

  “Huh?”

  “What am I going to wear after I take off my clothes?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, that does pose a problem.”

  “I don’t mind parading around in my birthday suit.”

  “Well, I mind,” he told her.

  He opened the tiny closet and took a look inside, then reached up on the shelf and grabbed a cotton blanket. He tossed it to her.

  “Here, wrap up in this.”

  She caught the blanket, then scurried into the bathroom. It took her less than five minutes to strip, hang up her wet garments and wrap the threadbare cotton blanket around her. The thing was so big that it wrapped around her twice and dragged the floor. Picking up the end as if it were a bridal train, she opened the bathroom door and emerged in a regal march.

  Brent chuckled. “Very fetching, my dear.”

  Jenna sucked in her breath. He’d already removed his boots, socks and wet shirt, which he’d hung on a hanger in the open closet. Oh, mercy, he was so gorgeous. Her hands itched to touch him, to caress those broad shoulders and wide, hairy chest.

  “Bathroom’s all yours,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  While he was in the bathroom, she closed the window blinds, then turned down the bed, fluffed the pillows and made a very important decision. Jenna pulled the condom, which had been in the back pocket of her jeans, from inside the blanket, where she’d placed it between her breasts. She opened the nightstand drawer, dropped the condom inside and closed the drawer. After unwrapping the blanket from around her, she folded it neatly and laid it on the far side of the bed, next to the wall, then she crawled in and pulled the covers up to her neck. Lying there with her damp hair spread out on the pillow, she waited for Brent.

  How could he resist her tonight? Hadn’t Fate arranged everything just for them? The thunderstorm. The last available motel room, with only one bed.

  Brent came out of the bathroom, a white towel draped around his waist. A flush of pure sexual longing heated Jenna from head to toe, peaking her nipples and moistening her femininity. He walked over to the bed, stopped at the foot and studied her for couple of minutes.

  “It’s kind of warm for you to cover up head and ears,” he said. “Besides, if I’m going to make a pallet on the floor, I’ll need the spread and the blanket.”

  “You’re going to sleep on the floor? Why? There’s plenty of room in the bed. It’s a king-size.”

  He shook his head. “Bad idea, honey. You’ve been behaving yourself lately, so don’t go back to misbehaving tonight.”

  “What if I promise to stay on my side of the bed and not touch you?”

  “I’m not sure I can trust you.” Brent looked at the bed, then at the floor and back at the bed.

  “I promise that I won’t jump you and I won’t ask you to make love to me and I—”

  “If you come near my side of the bed, I’ll toss you out and you’ll be the one sleeping on the floor.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “If I come near you or touch you, you can throw me on the floor.”

  Brent turned off the lamp, then slipped his legs under the covers. Still sitting up, he grabbed the top edges of the spread and blanket, then tossed the extra cover to the foot of the bed. Jenna clutched the remaining single sheet, holding it at her neck. Brent folded his pillow in half, then laid flat of his back, leaving his chest uncovered.

  “It’s warm in here,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll need more than this sheet. The guy at the desk said the air-conditioning unit in this room doesn’t work. Good thing the rain has cooled things off a lot.”

  “I’m not hot,” Jenna said. “At least not weather-wise.”

  “Jenna,” he cautioned her.

  “Good night, Brent.” She flopped over onto her side, putting her back to him.

  “Sleep tight, honey.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  She would ignore him, then pretend to be asleep. After that she had to figure out a way for Brent to realize she was naked. And she had to do it without touching him.

  Brent lay flat of his back, his gaze riveted to the ceiling. Shadows danced across the surface whenever the neon lights outside flickered, creating varying shades of light and dark through the cracks in the closed blinds. Jenna lay quietly, at least three feet separating them, her back to him. He couldn’t believe she’d given up so easily. He’d thought for sure that she’d be all over him by now. What was
the matter? Was he disappointed?

  Breathing in and out slowly, he shut his eyes and prayed for sleep. The longer he lay beside her, the more he realized that getting into this bed in the first place had been a big mistake. Just knowing that she was within arm’s reach, with nothing but a tattered old blanket covering her luscious body had his mind reeling with lascivious thoughts. Fantasize about her all you want, he told himself, but don’t touch her. If he touched her, for any reason, he’d be lost. His sex grew hard and heavy. He silently cursed himself for ever getting into this situation in the first place. Meeting Jenna at the Saddlebag Bar a few weeks ago had disrupted his plans and wreaked havoc on his life. Once he’d realized that he was trapped in Jenna’s web and had become determined to be her protector, he should have broken free and run like hell. Run all the way back to Chicago.

  Suddenly a loud chinking sound brought Brent out of his musing state of mind. He rose to a sitting position. Jenna roused, turned over and lifted her head.

  “What’s that noise?” she asked.

  “I think it’s hailing.”

  “That’s awfully loud for hail,” she said. “It must be the size of golf balls to make that much noise.”

  Brent flung back the sheet, got up and headed toward the window. Only when he was halfway there did he realize he’d lost the towel covering him when he’d gotten out of bed. Damn! Okay, so what do you do now? he asked himself. Hoping the darkness in the room would conceal his nudity, he moved to the side of the window, lifted the edge of the blinds and glanced out into the night.

  “It’s hailing all right,” he said. “My old truck is taking a beating. Looks like the hail is nearly half-dollar size.”

  “I thought so.”

  Realizing that her voice came from directly behind him and not from across the room, Brent spun around to face her. His mouth fell open. His heartbeat accelerated. And his sex jutted forward. Heaven help him. Jenna was naked. Beautifully, gloriously naked. The dim light from the flashing neon sign formed shadows that silhouetted her body.

  How much temptation was a man expected to resist? He had fought a good battle for weeks now, warning himself not to let his baser instincts take over. Hadn’t he protected Jenna, kept her safe, done Flynt a favor and denied himself what he really wanted? And he did want Jenna. Desperately.

  “You shouldn’t,” he said. “We can’t.”

  “Why can’t we?” she asked, her voice seductively low. A sultry whisper in the darkness. “We’re both consenting adults.”

  “It would be sex. Are you willing to accept that?” A part of him wanted her to scream no, but another part of him—the selfish, horny bastard part of him—longed for her to say yes.

  “I want you, Brent. Anyway I can get you.”

  Releasing a quiet huff, he forked his fingers through his hair and glanced down at the floor. He’d been at war with himself for weeks now, battling his own desire. But the war was over. He just didn’t know whether he’d won or lost.

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t have any protection.”

  “I do.”

  “What?”

  “I put a condom in my pocket…just in case.”

  “Jenna…Jenna. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Whatever you want to do. I’m all yours.”

  He made the first move. He touched her. A tender caress across her cheek with the back of his hand. She swayed toward him, but didn’t press up against him.

  The hunger inside him swelled and expanded until he was ravenous, his need riding him hard. He was powerless to stop the inevitable. With the warm, humid darkness cocooning them, Brent reached for her and brought her into his arms, taking her swiftly and completely. They grasped each other, their naked bodies touching, rubbing, blending together in sexual pleasure. With one hand clutching her hip, he lifted the other to cup her head. Leaning down, he claimed her mouth. She held him to her, accepting his marauding lips, giving herself over to the moment.

  Kissing, caressing, making guttural mating sounds, they released the pent-up desire that had been building for weeks. Brent lifted Jenna up and into his arms, then carried her across the room and laid her on the bed. She looked up at him in the semidarkness and held open her arms. He accepted her welcoming invitation, coming down over her, bracing his big body with his hands so that he wouldn’t crush her. Instinct urged him to take her now, to part her legs and thrust into her. He ached with the need to be inside her.

  But some small measure of sanity remained, not yet controlled by pure masculine passion. “Where’s that condom?”

  “Nightstand drawer.” Jenna lay beneath him, her fingers exploring his shoulders, her breasts rising and falling provocatively with each breath she took.

  Lifting himself up onto his knees, Brent twisted just enough to reach the knob on the drawer, then jerked the drawer open and grabbed the condom. As he unwrapped the shiny cover, his hands trembled the way they had when he’d been a teenager and had used a condom for the first time. Damn, why was he so nervous? Because this was Jenna. Because he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. And because she was a virgin.

  After sheathing himself he turned back to Jenna and the look in her eyes stopped him cold. She stared at his sex and then up at his face, an expression of uncertainty combined with adoration in her eyes.

  “Honey, are you sure about this?”

  She nodded her head. “I’m sure. But please remember that I’ve never—”

  He silenced her with kisses. Soft. Tender. A gentle trail from mouth to cheek. From neck to ear. “I know. And I promise to make it good for you.”

  Jenna’s needs came first, before his own. Her satisfaction was all that mattered. At least for now. His fulfillment was a foregone conclusion. Hers was not.

  Jenna had dreamed of this moment and yet now that it was happening, it didn’t seem real. Lying naked in bed with Brent seemed like a fantasy. And it was. A fantasy come to life.

  He explored her body with his hands and his mouth, learning where she was soft and where she was hard, finding the moisture of her mouth and the wet depths of her femininity. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardened to tight points…and when his calloused fingers flicked and his tongue laved, she bucked up, lifting her hips. His caressing, tormenting motions continued, teaching her the true meaning of wanton desire. Coiled tightly, pulsating with need, her body beckoned his as she flung her arms around his neck. Brent tested her, dipping two fingers inside, before advancing their lovemaking.

  “My beautiful Jenna,” he murmured as he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to meet him.

  She tensed when his sex stroked her intimately, then sought entrance. He waited a moment before easing inside her. She gasped at the sensation of fullness, yet realized he was not completely embedded within her. She kissed him, then licked his lips before plunging her tongue into his mouth. Her actions apparently pushed him over the edge. He tightened his grip on her hips, partially withdrew and then thrust deeply and fully, burying himself to the hilt in her hot, receptive body. Pain radiated from her core to throughout her body. She whimpered. Brent kissed her again and again as he whispered honey-coated endearments, reassuring her, coaxing her, guaranteeing her satisfaction.

  He moved inside her, cautiously, then when she breathed deeply and sighed, he set a steady, undulating rhythm. The pain subsided, replaced by sensations that promised pleasure. She listened to his labored breathing, felt his rapid heartbeat and caught glimpses of the intense expression on his face. For the first time in her life, she experienced the joy of possessing power. The power a woman wields over a man who wants her. A spiraling tension built between her legs as he moved up and down, in and out, putting friction on her most sensitive spot. His mouth sought her breast, then sucked greedily, adding fuel to the flame burning inside her.

  As her fingers curled over his shoulders, she moved with him. He increased the pace, moving harder and faster. Her whole body tensed, poised on the edge; with on
e more stroke he pushed her over and into the abyss. Neither body nor mind existed, only sensation.

  Indescribable pleasure. Total fulfillment. While aftershocks bombarded her, Brent hammered into her repeatedly. Fast and furious. Then he let out a long, guttural groan as his climax hit him full force. Jenna clung to him, kissing him, loving him more than she thought possible to love anyone.

  “Oh, Brent, I love you so much.”

  He eased off her, pulled her into his arms and caressed the side of her face with his cheek. Sated and happy beyond her wildest dreams, Jenna lay in his arms, her eyelids drooping as relaxation claimed her. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

  Chapter 8

  They had made love again at dawn, with the pink glow of a new day seeping through the thin blinds. He had taught her how to pleasure him as he did her, without risking consequences, since they had used their only protection hours before. And once again she had told him that she loved him and he had kissed her, held her, but had not responded verbally to her confession of undying love.

  At eight o’clock he had woken her and told her to hurry and get dressed. He’d been fully clothed.

  “I got coffee and cinnamon rolls out of the machine in the office,” he’d told her.

  They had eaten quickly, neither of them saying much of anything. She’d waited for him to mention what their lovemaking had meant to him, but he had acted as if nothing extraordinary had happened between them, as if they’d done nothing more than sleep during the night. Confused by his attitude, she’d kept quiet then and even later as they headed back to Mission Creek. Brent had turned on the radio, letting the loud music fill the cab. And she had been aware of the fact that he wouldn’t look directly at her.

  Why was he acting so distant and uncaring? She refused to believe that he had used her and was now discarding her. Brent loved her. She knew he did. He had been a tender yet passionate lover, initiating her into the rites of womanhood with pleasure and fulfillment. As long as she lived she would remember what it felt like to make love with Brent Jameson.