Just Jessie

by Lisette Belisle

  “Then don’t think.” His eyes gleamed with invitation.

  His gentle humor softened her resistance. She caught a rare glimpse of the man he’d been before misfortune changed him. He was complex, intelligent, intense at times. He bent over her and found her mouth, teasing her with light kisses until she moaned in defeat and opened to him.

  As if granted permission, he sank against her, his weight pressing her into the soft goose-down mattress. She was drowning, lost in a sea of pleasure. She drew a breath when he released her mouth, then promptly lost it when his lips drifted down her throat.

  Jessie dragged in another breath. “Ben, about Daisy. She might need me.” Her hands pressed against his chest—lost in the sensation of touching him. His male nipples pebbled in response to the accidental scrape of her fingernail.

  He groaned, deep in his throat. “She doesn’t need you. I do. Jessie, honey, please…I need you,” he rasped the urgent plea against her ear. Delicious sensations threatened to drown her common sense. Slowly, his words filtered through.

  Ben needed her.

  Nearly overwhelmed with needs of her own, Jessie went absolutely still. No one had ever needed her before. She absorbed this new emotion. It felt warm, wonderful and dangerous. It struck at her woman’s heart. Oh, he was clever. Despite his urgency, she knew she only had to refuse…but she didn’t want to stop his gentle persuasion. His seduction.

  Ben took full advantage of her silence. When she didn’t object, he drew her nightgown up and over her head. He stared down at her skin tanned to golden perfection. He was a military man. All the softness had been drilled out of him years ago, but just then he wished he were a poet. He wished he could find the words to tell her how beautiful she was, how exquisite.

  He hoped his husky murmur, “Jessie,” was eloquent enough to describe how much she pleased him. Her breasts were soft and round, peaked and lifting for his touch. He bent his head and lightly kissed one, then the other. Teasing her into submission, he ran his hand down over her flat stomach into the nest of silky curls. Gently, he touched and found her dampness.

  Time stopped as he learned the tender secrets of her body, the silk of her skin, the curve of her throat, the sensitive inner flesh of her thigh.

  His voice grew ragged. “Tell me you want me or I can’t do this.” He released a breath when she nodded silently. “Are you sure? I’ve rushed you into this.”

  Jessie stared up at him. Although she couldn’t see him clearly, she felt his indecision. Every nerve, every living cell in her body screamed in mute protest at his hesitation.

  “Ben,” she gasped. He couldn’t stop now!

  “What?”

  “Shut up.” She sweetly put an end to his soul-searching and second-guessing with down-to-earth practicality. He’d started this seduction—it had been going on forever—and, he had better finish it or she was going to go mad! She drew his head down and felt his surprised laughter drift across her lips. “I want you,” she whispered.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Jessie knew she wasn’t—but he made her feel beautiful. His touch was sure and gentle and coaxing; he reached inside her for something she didn’t know she had to give— herself.

  Even as she ached to surrender, she fought the weakness. The rhythm of his touch didn’t stop and she couldn’t stop her pulse from pounding with each stroke. Then suddenly, without warning, she cried out for release. He eased into her with care that brought tears to her eyes. Filled with him, she felt her last shred of control splinter into fragments of light. The rush in her ears was the sound of his breathing mixed with her sighs. In that moment of rapture, she was totally, irrevocably his.

  Ben thought he’d dreamed it; but no, she arched and her voice broke over his moan of satisfaction. He was still terrified of hurting her, disappointing her, letting them both down. She was a virgin. Of course, he’d known. But he hadn’t really known; he hadn’t felt it—the tightness enveloping him within her body. Her gift brought a warmth to his heart—a soldier’s heart, a scarred and battered heart that had known too much agony and defeat to admit any weakness, even love.

  Outside, a storm still hovered; wind and rain battered the house. Inside, the room was dark without a moon. He couldn’t see her, but he could touch and feel. He could hear and she never once said “stop.” Not even when he touched her while they were joined and took intimacies that were new, bringing her to a second powerful climax; not even when he stole her breath; not even when he claimed her and spilled his seed.

  Afterward, she lay damp and spent against him. He rolled over, bringing her with him, holding her close, soothing the tremors that shook her slender form. He kissed her and felt the wetness on her face where a single tear slid down. His lips tasted the saltiness of blood on her lips where she’d clenched down rather than cry out at that first shocking invasion. Remorse bit deep into the pleasure he’d taken. He should have been slower, gentler, easier; and yet he would be lying if he denied a sense of satisfaction. Their marriage was now a fact.

  At 2:00 a.m. the alarm went off. Ben groaned and tried to roll over. His left arm—the one close to his heart—was trapped around Jessie. She lay there so sweetly, soundly asleep, obviously unaware of the havoc created by her mere presence.

  Feeling guilty, he drew her closer. Would he ever be able to touch her without guilt? He hadn’t forced her; he’d seduced her. He knew there would be a price to pay in the morning. She would be furious, no doubt. But for now…

  For now, his hands found a softness long forgotten. He shuddered in fierce pleasure when she woke and came alive for him. He marveled at the unique sweetness of a woman’s curves, the velvety texture of smooth skin, the scented silkiness of loosened hair. Easy, easy. The message repeated itself over and over in the tender intimacy he sought with her. Within minutes of muted harsh breaths and smothered gasps, he felt her relax against him. He kissed her deeply, stifling her little pleas with lips and tongue. He touched her intimately until her body betrayed its response to what he was doing. She arched in helpless surrender. Her concession was all he needed to lose control of the moment.

  Ben was drifting off to sleep when he remembered—the cow.

  Shrugging into his clothes, he went out. The rain had stopped. The wind remained, howling between the house and the barn. He struggled to open the barn door. Daisy glanced up at his arrival. “Hey, old girl,” he said. She winked a chocolate eye. He hated cows, but she was beginning to get to him. No wonder Beau was smitten.

  Ben fetched hay and water before returning to the house and Jessie. With a satisfied smile, he stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed with his wife.

  Before daybreak, Jessie turned off the alarm. She scrambled over the male body in her bed, then looked back with something of a shock. Flat on his back, Ben was sound asleep.

  Dark stubble covered his chin, reminding her of the menacing stranger she’d met only a few short months ago. Only now, a faint smile touched his lips. She looked away hastily, but a vivid image remained in her mind. A corner of the sheet covered his hips. His chest was exposed. A muscled hairy leg hung over the edge of the bed—as if the bed was too small. She closed her eyes. How could she have welcomed him? The ache she’d felt last night had been assuaged; now she just ached. Ben had discovered nerves and muscles in her body she never knew existed. She felt hot just thinking about some of the things he’d done to her.

  She couldn’t think of that now. She felt light-headed— with fatigue, she told herself firmly. It couldn’t have anything to do with the vital naked male in her bed.

  For one wild moment, she wanted to wake Ben with a kiss and begin the incredible, sensuous voluptuous journey all over again. But in the cold light of day, her courage had fled; common sense asserted itself with the morning sun pouring into the room.

  A glance in the mirror made her groan. Her long hair was in tangles. For the life of her, she couldn’t see what Ben had found so irresistible. She was no beauty queen, nor particularly
well-endowed. A nasty little thought invaded what should have been a blissful morning. Of course, just because he’d made love to her once, twice, didn’t mean he intended to do it again.

  Hadn’t he once threatened her with a quick lay?

  Her nightgown dangled from the foot of the bed. Jessie hastily shrugged it over her head and crept out of the room. Once downstairs, she realized her choice of clothing wasn’t very practical. Too cowardly to return to her room, she grabbed her barn jacket and boots and went out to check on Daisy.

  It was barely six when Fred turned up in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at her attire. “How’s Daisy?”

  “Uh, fine.” Jessie poured a second cup of coffee and laced it with extra cream and sugar. Her body needed a jolt.

  “No calf, huh?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You must have been up half the night with her. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  “No!” Rising from the table with too much haste, she spilled the rest of her coffee. “I’m fine.”

  Her face on fire, she mopped up the spill and rinsed her cup under Fred’s thoughtful gaze. How could she go back to her bed? Ben was still in it. She didn’t have the vaguest idea how to get him out—if she even wanted him out. She ran a hand through her hair. She was far too exhausted to think straight. Her nerves were frazzled and she had no idea what she wanted. So much for being practical and levelheaded. Her body had turned traitor. No one had told her that a man—not just any man; Ben, she admitted— could make her body crave fulfillment; that sensual pleasure was keener than any appetite; that sleeping with Ben would only make her hunger for more. The inevitable had happened. She paused. Was there an element of relief? Joy? He’d made it easy. There had been no shame, only pleasure. The mere thought made her feel hot. To escape Fred’s amusement, she grabbed a broom and tried to look busy.

  Half an hour later, Jessie’s raised voice shocked Ben awake. “Get out, you good-for-nothing varmint.” He sat up. He was still in her bed. “I warned you,” she continued. “Next time, I’m getting my gun. I’m through being nice.”

  He looked—she was nowhere in sight. Her voice drifted in through the open window. Ben grinned. A moment later, he leaned out the window in time to see her take a broom to Beauregard, shooing the bewildered moose out of her garden. Red-faced and obviously annoyed, she looked adorable in thick work boots and a denim jacket thrown over her nightgown. His bride.

  “Morning, Jessie,” he said, peering down at her.

  Flustered, she dropped the broom, mumbled a brisk, “Good morning,” and flew inside. She had to come upstairs sometime.

  Grinning, Ben lay back and waited. And waited. Finally, he got up. He was half in and half out of his jeans when he heard her footsteps on the stairs. He was on the top landing when she reached it. Waiting.

  The dog was whining and scratching at the bathroom door.

  “Bandit’s locked in the bathroom,” she said in confusion, then let the dog out before Ben could object. Teeth bared, Bandit charged.

  Grateful for a head start, Ben barely made it to his own room and slammed the door. “Jessie,” he called through it, lifting his voice above the barking. “Get rid of the dog. I want to talk to you.”

  “You didn’t want conversation last night,” she snapped.

  Like a dash from a bucket of cold water, Ben caught her tone of hurt resentment. Within seconds, he heard her turn the shower on full blast. Hoping she would cool off, he waited until she had time to dress before trying again. When she came out, he opened his door slightly. Ears plastered back, Bandit snarled at him.

  Jessie disappeared down the stairs with a tangle of white sheets. “Call off the damn dog!” Ben shouted after her.

  She ignored him. She was so cool. It was such classic Jessie—getting him all wound up while she remained immune. Wait a minute. When had their roles switched?

  By the time Ben had lured Bandit into his room with an old shoe, showered, dressed, and tracked down Jessie, he was feeling the strain. She was hanging out laundry. The storm had ended; gusts of wind still lingered. Like giant flags of surrender, white sheets billowed in the heavy breeze. Ben didn’t think they signaled her surrender, only his. He came up behind her.

  “Jessie, about last night.”

  At the sound of his voice, she spun around. One glimpse of her strained features dissolved his irritation. She looked so fragile. A bright flush crept into her cheeks. He stared in fascination. They’d made love only hours before. Suddenly words seemed inadequate. He simply wanted to kiss the sweet confusion from her eyes, the trembling from her lips. She looked so vulnerable—tangled up in the clothesline, flushed and angry. And so frightened. He couldn’t blame her, he was scared as hell—scared of what she made him feel. But it was good. He hadn’t felt so alive in years.

  “I was looking for you.” Ben was determined to penetrate her reserve. “Don’t you think we should talk?”

  “What is there to say? You had your one-night stand.”

  He gritted his teeth. “It wasn’t a one-night stand. I’ll demonstrate right now, if that’s what you want.”

  She glared at him. “You seduced me. I was asleep.” She blushed brighter when he raised a skeptical eyebrow. She might have been sleeping when he invaded her bed, but not for long. “I wanted a choice,” she insisted.

  His face hardened. “You wanted me. Don’t deny it.”

  “I had the right to decide the time and place.”

  “All right. What do you suggest we do about it now?”

  Her eyes rounded. “Why, nothing.”

  “Nothing! Oh, no, we’re not going back.”

  “And what do you suggest?” she retorted.

  Knowing Jessie was in a stubborn mood, he sighed. “You can still have a choice. You choose where we go from here. I can pack my bag and be out of here in fifteen minutes.” He felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine at the risk he was taking. “Or I can stay. It’s your choice.”

  Her eyes flashed with temper. “As a temporary lover?”

  Out of patience, he reached for her. “Then give me a reason to stay, Jessie. Give me a reason,” he rasped against her mouth as his lips bore down. If this was a farewell kiss, he was going to give it everything he had. And he did.

  At last, out of breath, he released her. With one last look, which he hoped spoke volumes, he turned and walked away. He reached the driveway before she said, “Ben?”

  He stopped. He didn’t know how he felt. Relieved? Grateful? Yes, all that. And so many more emotions he couldn’t identify; they were all too new.

  “Don’t go.” Her voice trembled.

  Slowly, he turned back and walked toward her. She was standing there, her spine rigid as she visibly struggled with indecision. Her emotions were naked; her natural common sense, reserve and distrust were at war with desire. She looked defenseless. He wanted to reassure her, but suddenly he’d run out of inspiration. Yesterday, he’d gone to town and bought her a wedding ring. It was burning a hole in his pocket. Clearly, this was not the time to give it to her.

  But soon. “You won’t regret it,” he vowed.

  At the words, Jessie stared at him in dismay. Dear God, she already did. He spoke of regret; she wanted words of love. It was a language she wanted to explore, but not alone.

  He bent his head again and kissed her. She couldn’t respond. His face was expressionless when he released her with the question, “You’re sure?” Dry-mouthed, she nodded. What had she agreed to? “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  Her stomach lurched. She didn’t breathe until he was out of sight. She picked up a wet pillowcase and shook it with a snap. Give him a reason to stay? She tacked the pillowcase to the line with a clothespin. Then she paused. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt frozen inside. Even when his kiss grew gentle and persuasive, even when she wanted to wrap her arms around him and cling, she couldn’t move. What if she risked her heart, and lost?

  So many times she’d given love, but no one
had ever loved her back. What if it was too late? Too late to change what she felt for Ben? What if it had been too late from the moment he arrived at Stone’s End? Shaking her head in confusion, she reached for the second pillowcase from the laundry basket.

  When she returned to the house, she found the mason jar sitting very conspicuously in the middle of the table. Ben had obviously left the jar in plain view for her to find. For one wild moment, she thought he’d actually had the gall to pay her!

  In a blaze of hot anger, she picked up the jar, ready to throw it across the room, then she stared in amazement. A ray of sunshine touched the cheap glass and suddenly it sparkled like fine crystal. Cradling the jar, she slowly sat down, then set it in front of her and stared. Within the thick glass, an ivory rose lay with its creamy white petals spiraling open, its edges blushing a soft rose pink. The leaves still glistened with morning dew. In a trance, she took out the rose.

  With the tip of her finger, she traced the petals in wonder. Was this Ben’s way of telling her he cared? What did it mean? The rose was so fragile…like love. To grow it needed tender care, a place in the sun. With a soft sigh of defeat, and hope, Jessie fetched the family bible. She pressed the rose between the thin well-worn pages, next to Gran’s.

  All day, Jessie avoided Ben and kept a close watch on Daisy. To her relief, Ben didn’t come near the barn.

  Daisy’s calf didn’t come.

  That night, Jessie found Bandit new sleeping quarters in the shed. She left her bedroom door open. If this marriage was going to have a chance, there was no room for games.

  Ben didn’t come.

  At first, she was relieved—he was giving her time to adjust to their new marital status. Then she felt bruised by this new rejection. And finally, she simply felt lonely. Didn’t he want her? She closed the door. The latch turned, a final click sounded like a shot fired in the dark. Round one. She considered and rejected the impulse to go to his room and crawl into bed. What would that solve? She didn’t want just sex. Did she? Well, not really, she admitted, although the idea did tempt her. She wondered how he would react if she seduced him! He would probably be delighted. Men!