Sparring Partners

by Leigh Morgan

  If only running to Peter would get Henry and her nephew-in-law out of her house.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She was warm, wet, naked and sitting on his lap. What more could a man ask for?

  Satisfaction? No tree bark making its way through the skin on his back?

  There was that, Jordon thought wryly as he kissed the top of Reed's red-gold curls, more red in the muted sunlight than in the bright light of the day. Her hair smelled of lavender, lemon and the unique scent that was all Reed. He'd always been partial to lemons. Lemonade, lemon sorbet, lemon jell-O, he liked it all. Lavender reminded him of home. There wasn't much reason why it should, lavender wasn't a big cash crop in Wyoming, but his grandmothers always had a pot growing. The scent never failed to calm him, reminding him of how sure he was of his place in the world growing up, and how much he was loved. Funny how it took this moment with his wife, satiated, snuggling into him, to remember.

  Jordon pushed thoughts of his childhood home from his head. Wyoming hadn't been home in almost two decades. Neither had anywhere else he'd laid his head over the years. Here, with Reed, seemed as good a place as any to rest and call home, if only for a while.

  Gently Jordon caressed her vaginal wall with one finger, reminding her without words, that they were far from finished. Savoring her moan of pleasure, he withdrew his damp finger and found her clitoris once again hardening for him. She was incredibly responsive, and she took over rubbing against him with no care for the escalating volume of her response. She sure was a noisy little thing. The way she screamed earlier, as she came against the tree, had him looking around for the cavalry, but they weren't coming. The house was too far away. Maybe that's why she picked this spot, so they could be alone when she threw her head back and let out sounds no lady wanted anyone but her lover to hear.

  Her lover.

  Well he was that. With any luck he'd continue to be her husband past the time line William so arbitrarily decided Jordon should be loved by, as if William's will alone could make it so. Jordon had no illusions about his ability to get Reed to actually love him in the next month, but he was willing to bet he could get her to love his love making in less time than that. Maybe then she'd be willing to help him. Unfortunately, he was still dressed.

  Jordon lifted Reed and rolled at the same time, reversing their positions. He was on top, corralling her, his arms taking most of his weight while letting her feel the pulse of his cock through his pants. She was dampening his jeans as she continued to squirm against him seeking release. He smiled down into her lovely face. Her full lips, filled with color because she kept biting them, parted slightly as her eyes inched open. She smiled up at him and Jordon was lost. There was a world of welcome in that smile and she didn't have to say a word to make him feel like in this moment he belonged exactly where he was.

  He cupped the side of her face with his hands and she turned into him, running her tongue along his palm sending electricity straight to his groin. Jordon bent to kiss her, giving her more of his weight. As his lips touched hers Reed pulled him in deeper with one hand on the back of his neck and the other cupping his bottom. There wasn't a millimeter between them, only denim and the cotton of his boxers he wished with all his heart he'd had the foresight to leave in the drawer this morning.

  "I can't feel you the way I want to with my clothes on."

  "Take them off." He chuckled at the demand in her voice and the disgruntled look she gave him. "You have to let go of me first."

  Her eyes flared, and something like embarrassment flashed in them before she blinked it away. "Oh. Sorry." She said letting her hands fall to her sides. Her reluctance to let him go pleased Jordon more than he cared to admit.

  Shedding his clothes in less time than it took her to roll on her side to watch was a mistake. Attempting to kick off his jeans and rid himself of his shirt at the same time, Jordon didn't see the thorn bush before he stumbled over it, his shirt obscuring his sight for a pivotal millisecond before he pulled it from his head. The pain hit him before his shirt hit the ground.

  "Fuck."

  "That's the general idea. Come here and let it happen. You can close your eyes and think of England if it'll help ease your pain."

  Jordon stared down at her, the shock of the prick easing as she grinned at him, propped up on one arm, hand behind her ear. She looked like he imagined the sirens of myth looked to sailors who hadn't been laid since their ships set sail, comfortable, powerful even, in their nakedness. His foot throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his groin.

  "Come here. Let me see your foot. You probably have a thorn. You'll stop scowling at me when it comes out. Then we can get back to that other thing you mentioned."

  He wasn't immune to her come-hither smile or the way her breasts curved gently against her arm as she curled on the blanket. The curve of her waist and hips as she folded her legs around herself and patted the blanket, as if he were an animal she was trying to entice to her side, wasn't lost on him either. He limped toward her and sat on the blanket so she could see the arch of his foot. Sure enough there was a sizable thorn.

  Reed sat up. Reaching over him she wrapped her small hands around his foot and placed it in her lap, where it rested gently on her bare legs, crossed in front of her. She looked like a mystical yogi who sat naked in the woods every day just waiting to take thorns out of injured lion paws. Her hands were cool and gentle as she explored the area around the thorn. It hurt like hell, but he wasn't about to let her see how much.

  She found the spot directly on each side of it with her thumbs. Then she looked at him, cocking her head to the side. There was earnestness in her expression that belied her intent.

  "I have a small mouth."

  His eyes narrowed, but other than that Jordon didn't respond. Whatever her game was, it didn't translate to the male brain. At least not to his male brain.

  She looked from his eyes directly at his cock. Without his permission it waved at her. "Do you think I can fit all that in my mouth?"

  Before the effect of those words fully registered on his blood starved brain, the pinching on his instep and the surge of relief that followed swept over him. When he opened his eyes she was grinning at him again, holding out the thorn in the palm of her hand like a pleased child showing a frog to a less than enthusiastic parent.

  "See. Nothing to it. A little diversion and all the pain is gone."

  Jordon was on top of her in a second. Her hand instinctively closed around the thorn on her way down. He pried her hand open, took the incredibly large thorn from her and put it on one of the small rocks holding down the blanket. He didn't want to step on the damn thing again. That done, he focused all his attention on Reed.

  He pushed against her mound letting her feel him fully. Her eyes, more smoky gray now than blue flared. She ran one small foot up his calf to the back of his thigh and back down again.

  "No matter how you try to divert me now elf, I am going to find out just how much of me your small mouth can take."

  "Yum. Now?"

  Jordon growled in her ear, pleased with her openness, sorry he didn't have the control to take advantage of it. "The way I'm feeling right now, I wouldn't make it past your lips before exploding."

  Jordon didn't give her a chance to respond. He kissed her before she came up with something else he desperately wanted to try. He didn't let her take control this time. He held himself far enough away not to gnash teeth, as she seemed determined to do. He fought against the pull she had on the back of his neck until he couldn't anymore. Capturing both of her hands in his he held her arms over her head. That left a good deal of his weight effectively trapping her lower body so she couldn't keep squirming against him.

  "Be still."

  Reed settled more from his weight, he guessed, than his words. As soon as she did, Jordon leaned down, resting his forehead on hers. He held her like that until he felt her body relax beneath him, then he softly kissed her cheek, her lips, the corner of her eye,
like a butterfly kissing mountain larkspur. He moved back to her mouth, running his tongue along her full bottom lip.

  She didn't try to take over again, she just let him explore her which he did slowly, thoroughly, savoring the delicate curve of her lips before delving in to explore her mouth more fully.

  She tasted like the herbs and the tea she seemed to constantly be sipping. Jordon let go with one hand, and Reed didn't protest when he grasped both of her wrists with the other. Tilting her face to the side, Jordon kissed her as deeply as she'd kissed him earlier, only with more finesse and less intent to devour. He wanted to taste her first. He needed to learn everything he could about her desires, her needs, what burned her soul, and he wanted to learn it now.

  With his free hand he cupped her jaw opening her wider so his tongue could penetrate her fully, then, with the back of his hand, he traced the curve of her neck to her collar bone. Reed's collar bone wasn't as prominent as the bone on most of the model's he'd made love to, there was meat on Reed, but Jordon could feel how delicate she was beneath all the muscle she'd built up to protect it. All of Reed was like that. Vulnerable under the surface protection she worked so hard to amass.

  He gently moved his hand down to one firm breast. Her nipple was already hard from rubbing against him. He took it between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it firmly back and forth. Reed arched her back, groaning into his mouth. A feeling of invincibility surged through Jordon, emboldening him to squeeze harder. She'd be sore afterwards, but she was enjoying the small pain now.

  He'd give her whatever she wanted, whatever she needed and more. He'd give her everything he had to give.

  Jordon let go of her nipple savoring her small sound of disappointment. He ran the flat of his hand over her solar plexus and abdomen to the slight curve of her stomach. He let her feel the warmth of him there at the top of her mound for a second before his fingers twisted through her deep red curls in search of her clit. It was hard, unsheathed, and slick with readiness. He stroked her gently with the pad of his thumb before his hand stilled. She made another sound of protest when he stopped, and Jordon almost smiled. He would have if he could have spared the effort it was costing him not to plunge into her.

  He let go of her wrists instead. Holding himself a breath away from her, he forced himself to wait.

  "Open your eyes. Look at me, Reed." Jordon waited until she did.

  Her lovely eyes were almost black with pupil, even in the dappled light. She looked like she'd consumed opiates instead of him. The sight of her, wanton and reckless, almost snapped what was left of his control, but this was too important to rush. He wanted her to accept him into her body, her life, her heart.

  "If you want me, you're going to have to put me inside you. I want no doubt later about who's decision this was. No recriminations. No blame."

  Jordon pushed his hips forward letting her feel his steel against the open lips of her. "Show me you want me inside you. Show me that's where I belong."

  She wasted no time gripping him firmly in one hand as she opened herself more fully with the other, her eyes never leaving his. She didn't hesitate as she brought him to her, pulsing, engorged and ready to shoot.

  With the first inch Jordon felt her tightness. After she pushed, pulled and sucked the head of him into her channel, the rest was easy. With one swift surge of his hips he was fully sheathed, her determined hands gripping the curve of his bottom, holding him to her.

  "This is where I want you. This is where you belong." She whispered up at him, holding his gaze with an open honesty that made him want to cry and shout to the heavens at the same time.

  He broke eye contact first, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he began to move. Slowly at first, then with more urgency as her nails bit into him demanding he speed it up. When she lifted her legs, wrapping her ankles around him just below his shoulders, he sank so deep he felt like he was drowning, railing against the waves of sensation.

  He plunged in and out, cupping the twin curves of her bottom off the blanket, as he ravished the depths of her, touching the entrance to her womb. When he felt it and the contractions that began to milk him, Jordon stopping fighting and exploded into her.

  He held her to him as his sperm shot from him, bathing her channel. He didn't pull out. He savored every after-shock, as his heartbeat ebbed from his cock and returned to his heart. This was the second time he'd come inside her, and the second time she'd let him.

  Jordon kept himself fully sheathed but lifted his shoulders so he could focus on Reed's face. When she stopped shaking, Reed looked at him. There was wonder and something he couldn't name but seemed serious, written on her face.

  "This isn't going to stop. You know that, don't you." He said. It wasn't a question.

  Reed looked away from him. When she looked back Jordon wasn't able to read her expression at all, but she didn't push him away.

  "I don't want it to stop."

  Relief and something more primal shot through Jordon. He pushed his rapidly shrinking cock into her more deeply before he pulled out and held her in his arms. She shivered, and Jordon wrapped the edge of the blanket around them, even though it was at least eighty degrees in the shade. He didn't want to chill Reed.

  "This is the second time I've come inside you. We ought to talk about how this is going to work if you don't want to wind up pregnant."

  Reed was silent. Her shivers didn't subside even with the warmth of the cotton and his body heat. Jordon gently lifted her chin so she couldn't hide from him.

  "What is it, sweetheart? What has you shaking like a leaf? There's nothing that can't be figured out here, I just need to know how you want to handle this."

  Reed looked at him with tears in her eyes and a stubborn tilt to her chin that said she'd never voluntarily shed even one tear.

  "Do you want children, Jordon?"

  Pain tore through him at the thought of Emily, premature, fighting for a life that was never destined to be. "I did. Once."

  "What about now?"

  "I haven't thought about being a father in a very long time."

  Liar.

  His conscience shouted at him, the truth of it slicing through him like a freshly sharpened sickle through grass. He thought about it every day after Emily's death for years. Then, only once a year when he returned to Jackson to put flowers on her grave. Since he'd met Reed he'd been thinking of it again, and it hurt, but differently now.

  Reed looked at him through unshed tears. Defiant. Vulnerable. And inextricably sad.

  "I had a daughter when I was sixteen." She said. "She was adopted. I don't know where she is now although I've tried to find her. She'd be nineteen now." Reed hiccupped and one small tear escaped. She angrily rubbed it away.

  "The doctor told me I'd never have another child. I'm damaged."

  Something inside Jordon snapped. He pulled Reed tighter to him and held her, rocking her for awhile like she was a small child waking from a nightmare, soothing her with inarticulate sounds while her tears flowed.

  When she quieted, he kissed the top of her head. Pushing the hair from her tear stained face he held her, gently but firmly, so she couldn't look away.

  "There's nothing about you that's damaged. There's nothing that happened that can't be fixed if you want to try. There is nothing you could say to me to chase me from your bed. I don't need children to be with you and you already have Jesse. Life will only damage you if you let it, Reed. And I have no intention of allowing you to let it. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand me?"

  She didn't say anything to him, but then she didn't need to. The look in her eyes when she kissed him said it all. She didn't love him yet, at least he didn't think so, but the look she gave him said she could. It was a good start.

  Jordon held her to him until her breathing told him she was asleep. She'd brought him out here for a reason, and he was fairly certain it wasn't to tell him she'd given up her daughter as a teenager and some quack had her believing she was something less th
an whole. He'd find out why she'd come to him later. After he had Henry track down her daughter. Open adoptions weren't common nineteen years ago, so Jordon knew it wouldn't be easy, but if the girl could be found, Henry would find her. Then he'd figure out whether to tell Reed or not.

  The next thing he had to do was convince her to see a doctor. Jordon didn't care if she couldn't have children, but she obviously cared. A lot. He always thought there would be time to have a family of his own if he wanted to risk it again. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to take that risk again. Last week he knew he'd never take it.

  This week he was holding his wife in his arms, protecting her while she slept wrapped up with him under the willow tree where he'd just had the most amazing sexual experience of his life so far. He didn't need this, and he certainly didn't need a family.

  Yeah, right, Bennett.

  Jordon pulled Reed closer to him and closed his eyes. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could make that voice inside him disappear just like he made it disappear all those years ago when he left Jackson.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Irma arrived from the rehabilitation wing of the local nursing home an hour early. Shannon O'Shay picked her up and drove her to Potters Woods as he'd agreed to do a week earlier when Reed asked him. Shay knew he was early, but he wanted to see Reed. He still couldn't believe she actually married that guy who showed up in the dojo with no warning.

  Why had she done that? He was supposed to be her best friend. If she was going to marry someone, he should have been the first person she asked, or at least the first one she told. At a minimum, she could have given him enough time to check the guy out, maybe send him swimming with the fishes before she married him.

  Shay stopped the van right next to a delivery truck parked in Reed's driveway and helped Irma out. She insisted on sitting in the passenger seat instead of the back where it was more comfortable and safer. One look at the determination in her wrinkled face, and the grip she had on the rock-crystal head of her cane, convinced Shay not to argue. He'd known his share of stubborn Irish women, Scottish women couldn't be all that different. Not if the starch in Irma's back-bone, even with osteoporosis, was any indication.