The Barons of Texas: Tess

by Fayrene Preston

  He took several moments to ponder her question. “It’s hard to say for certain, but in his own way, yes, I think so. If he didn’t, he would have left you alone and wouldn’t have cared what you did.”

  “What an awful way to love.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Jill’s already proved herself worthy of her one-sixth of the company. She’s already hit the mark and made even more, despite the fact that she has another year, because she’s a year younger than I am. Kit has two more years.”

  “Jill has already reached her mark because real estate is a booming market.” He watched her for a moment. “I wish I could help you with this, but, again, the will is very clear. You have to make the money yourself. No gifts.”

  “I know.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Her lips firmed. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “That’s not entirely true, you know. Even if you lost your one-sixth of the company, you’d still be able to run your division.”

  “Right,” she said flatly. “And I’d be nothing more than a hired employee. Besides you and Des, I’d have to answer to Jill and Kit. They’d have the right to examine every decision I made, and to say yes or no to any undertaking I might want to pursue. And that would be completely intolerable to me.” Not only that, she reflected with pain. If she couldn’t make the money by her deadline, her father would win. That was also intolerable to her. She shook her head. “No, thanks to Father, I really have only one way to go. My part of Baron International is my legacy, my right. It would destroy me to lose my part of the family business, and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to keep it.”

  Eight

  Tess wandered to the open French doors that led from her bedroom to the terrace. Against a black sky, dark gray clouds piled up over the Gulf, one atop the other.

  Lightning streaked the horizon. Thunder rolled in the distance. The wind strengthened by the minute. A storm was brewing, and the turbulent atmosphere suited her dark, restless mood.

  Nick. Where was he tonight? She hoped he had been able to secure the Águila as much as was possible. But more than that, she prayed he was safely on land. According to reports, the major portion of the storm looked as if it would stay far out at sea, and Corpus and its surrounding areas would only get grazed by its edge. Still, it would be foolish not to take precautions.

  If she had called Nick, as she’d promised she would when she returned from the Double B, she might know where he was. But she was a bona fide, freely admitted coward and was trying to put off as long as possible the moment when she would have to say no to him for the final time.

  Sipping at a glass of burgundy wine, she leaned against the door and lifted her face to the mist-filled wind. Even though she’d worked at her usual frenetic pace all afternoon, her mind had been on the conversation she’d had with Uncle William and the irrefutable fact that, as they talked, had hit her squarely between her eyes.

  She loved Nick.

  The idea astounded her. She didn’t even know how to love, perhaps because, to her knowledge, she’d never been truly loved. Yet there was no doubt. She was definitely in love with Nick.

  Right from the first, the signs had been there, all of them in big, bright, red neon letters. How could she have missed them?

  There was the way he’d mesmerized her on the night of her birthday and the way her body had melted against his when they’d danced. There was the way she’d so easily acquiesced to the idea of flying to some unknown destination for dinner and the stunning fact that she’d turned down Des’s offer for help.

  But in her defense, she’d never been in love before. She’d never even experienced what she would consider normal love—the love of a child for a parent or vice versa, or even the love of one sister for another. No wonder she hadn’t recognized the signs.

  Drops of rain began to fall, splattering the terrace. The lightweight ivory caftan she’d changed into after work was getting wet. She didn’t care.

  The rain was cool. Her skin was hot. She wanted Nick.

  She wanted to see him, to touch him, to make love to him as they almost had the night before last. And she wanted him to hold her and kiss her until they both forgot that their lives were going in two different directions and that they could never have a future together.

  She might not know anything about love, but she was learning fast. Love hurt, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  She couldn’t pursue Nick, nor could she tell him of her love. But for the rest of her life he would remain in her heart, a heart that was already breaking. Somehow, in some way, she was going to have to learn how to bear it.

  The agony of it was that Nick had come along at literally the most critical time of her life. If things had been different in their lives, if they’d met under any other circumstances, where neither of them wanted anything from the other except truth and trust, they might have had a chance.

  Damn her father!

  She let out a long breath. She should have called Nick this afternoon, as she’d promised. She was only prolonging the inevitable. This afternoon, this evening, tomorrow, a month from now, her answer would still have to be the same. She should get it over with, but she couldn’t make herself. She needed this time, this respite, when she could tell herself that Nick didn’t hate her. Not yet, at any rate.

  The rain was coming down heavier, and still she wasn’t ready to go in. She was hurting too much, wanting too much. Lightning split the sky. A boom of thunder shook the windowpanes of the door she leaned against. Lightning again charged the air with electricity.

  Nick walked out of the dark rain. Water streamed off his hair, his face, his forearms. His clothing was soaked and plastered to his hard body. He stopped several feet from her, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his stance wide and firm. Anger and heat filled his gaze as it raked her from the top of her head right down to her bare feet. At that instant he seemed a part of the storm—fierce, elemental, dangerous.

  “You didn’t call.”

  Unable to take her gaze off him, she slowly shook her head. “It was a hectic day and I… “ There wasn’t a single thing she could say that would assuage his wrath.

  “Damn you, Tess.” His deep voice rolled over her like thunder. “You had to know I was waiting.”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “Your answer is no, isn’t it? Isn’t it? And that’s why you didn’t call.”

  “Nick, I tried—”

  “Damn you.” Slowly he started toward her. “Damn me. Damn our situation.” As he reached her, he extended his hand past her head to brace himself against the door. “And the worst part of it is that right now, I don’t care.”

  She didn’t either. Nothing mattered except the craving for him that involved every part of her. Tomorrow she would care. But not tonight.

  He sank his body against hers until he had her pressed back against the door. Then he crushed his mouth on hers and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.

  This night, this lovemaking, was meant to be. The vague thought whispered loudly in her mind. Over the past few days, their sexual need for each other had gathered momentum until this moment when neither of them could do anything to stop it.

  When he’d walked out of the storm, she’d taken one look at him and known it didn’t matter whether or not he would try to use sex as a way of getting what he wanted. She wanted him, and this one night she would have him.

  She let go of any restrictions, constraints or reserves and pushed away any and all doubts. She stood on tiptoes, slipped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with all the enthusiasm and love she possessed.

  It didn’t matter that he didn’t love her. She loved him, and for tonight that would be enough.

  The fury of the storm continued, the rain soaking her hair and skin. But the fire inside her kept growing, astounding her, taking her over until she was all heat and need. He kissed her lips, her face, her neck, seemingly drinking in the rain and the t
aste of her, and she did the same to him, licking his neck and face. She was starving for him.

  His hand grasped her breast; then, leaning down, he drew the nipple and the wet, transparent caftan that covered it into his mouth and strongly sucked. Her head fell back, her womb contracted, and softly she moaned. She was helpless against the onslaught of heated sensations that followed one after the other. And just when she thought she’d reached the pinnacle of the amount of pleasure she could feel, he showed her she was wrong by turning his attention to her other breast, pulling that nipple into his mouth, briefly releasing it, then tugging at it again and again until she was almost crazed with desire.

  Fire coiled through her to the point that she no longer felt the cool rain against her skin. In fact, she felt so hot that she was surprised the rain didn’t dry as soon as it landed on her skin.

  “Nobody stops,” she whispered, sliding her fingers through his hair, then down to the buttons of his shirt. She began to undo them.

  He lifted his head from her breast and stared at her with a brilliant heat. “Nobody stops,” he muttered, then kissed her once more with an urgency that matched hers.

  He dropped his hands to the caftan at her thighs and gathered the wet cloth. Wrenching his mouth from hers, he pulled the caftan up and over her head and tossed it onto the rain-drenched terrace. Then he crushed his mouth down on hers with a desperation she felt to her bones.

  She could no longer tell the loud beat of her heart from the booming thunder. She could no longer tell whether the world was spinning around her or whether Nick was making her feel as if it was. She pushed the edges of his shirt aside and immediately closed her mouth over one of his rigid nipples.

  With a loud groan he plowed his fingers through her hair and held her head against him. Fascinated, enthralled, she lightly bit and nibbled his nipple, then circled it with her tongue, lapping up the rain and him. She’d never known a man’s nipple could be so erotic.

  Without warning, he knelt before her. His hands gripped her bare buttocks, caressing them, and his tongue dipped into her navel, where again he drank from her. Then slowly, hotly, his mouth slid downward.

  She was glad for the support of the door. Her legs felt weak. Her breathing became labored. Her chest hurt. And a wonderful, unbearable ache built between her legs.

  Acting on pure, inexplicable instinct, she shifted her stance and parted her legs. She’d had sex a couple of times—infinitely forgettable sex. Still, she would have thought she was prepared for anything regarding sex. She wasn’t. Not at all.

  His fingers opened the two folds that guarded that most intimate part of her; then his tongue thrust against the achingly sensitive nub. Like a bolt of lightning, pleasure shocked through her, and she cried out. “Oh, Nick!”

  The wind and rain absorbed her words as his tongue stroked and licked. Her fingers tightened in his hair. She climaxed—hard, fast and powerful.

  Aftershocks shuddered through her as her body absorbed the sweet, hot ecstasy. But before she had a chance to catch her breath, he straightened and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and wound her arms around his neck. As she had been at the farm house, she was open against the denim of his jeans and his hard sex.

  He walked with her into the bedroom. Impossibly, she climaxed again. Crying out, she held on to him as if he were life itself. And indeed, at that moment, he was her entire life, her entire world.

  On her bed, she could hardly bear the wait for him. Lying on her back, she drew up her knees, agonizingly sensitized. A bedside lamp illuminated the room, along with the occasional flash of lightning. She tried to concentrate on breathing as she watched Nick strip out of his clothes, but she wasn’t certain she always breathed.

  He was magnificent. Lean muscles shifted and rippled beneath his bronze skin as he undressed. Scars appeared that she hadn’t had a chance to see before, but now she longed to touch them. Fine black hair covered his chest and arrowed down to his groin, where his sex throbbed with power. He was a picture of pure, undiluted virile masculinity.

  A new wave of desire quivered through her. As if he could feel what she felt, his amber gaze cut to her and scorched her skin.

  She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Besides, in the short time they’d known each other, they’d already said so much. For tonight, at least, maybe words weren’t necessary. Tonight was the time to let their bodies speak, and what they were speaking of was basic needs and elemental passion. They were speaking truths, truths that the two of them would never verbally speak of to each other.

  He came to her and positioned himself over her. His breathing was rough, his body taut, his face tight with intensity. She expected him to immediately enter her, wanted, needed him to. Yet instead he stared at her. Feverishly, fleetingly, she wondered what he was thinking, but she wanted him too badly to spend time asking him or trying to figure it out.

  This night would never come again, and as surely as the sun would rise tomorrow, discord would insert itself between them. For now, for tonight, she wanted there to be only pleasure between them—pure, white-hot, ecstatic pleasure.

  Later, she supposed, she would be shocked at her attitude and behavior. It was so radically different from who and what she was normally. Or maybe, deep down, tonight, she was the person she was supposed to be, and she’d only needed the right man to make her understand that.

  Except Nick was the wrong man.

  Determinedly she smiled up at him, slid her hands to his shoulders, then to his back. They were both slick with rain. “Nick,” she whispered, pleading. “Please. Oh, please.”

  With his jaw clenched, he drew back his hips and drove deeply into her, burying himself completely in her. A hard shudder racked his body, a shudder that she felt deep inside her and that nearly brought her to climax again. With a soft moan, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him to her as tightly as she could. She didn’t think she’d ever felt anything as wonderful as having him inside her. It was insanity. It was bone-deep rapture and satisfaction.

  She was going to peak again soon. She could feel it. She was almost there. She wanted it to happen immediately, and at the same time, she wanted to prolong as much as possible the pleasure of having Nick inside her. But she wasn’t in charge.

  He hammered in and out of her like a man out of control, and mindlessly she matched his rhythm, lifting and undulating her hips, attempting to take him deeper and deeper into her.

  Then it started again. Fire and passion built, filling her, taking her over. Her fingers clutched his shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked at Nick. His face was strained, his neck muscles corded, the muscles of his back and shoulders bunched, but in his eyes she saw the sure knowledge that he knew exactly what she was feeling and that he was with her.

  He reached for one of her hands and tightly entwined their fingers. As a harsh sound tore out of him, he drove into her with short, quick strokes. They strained together, urgent, frantic, almost mad with the sweet agony of pleasure. Then he thrust deeply into her, once, twice, three times.

  Then it happened. She arched her back as she climaxed, and a flaming ecstasy took her soaring up and over an unknown precipice. At the same time, Nick convulsed with his own completion. And as he had promised her with his hot amber gaze, this time they soared together.

  A soft rain fell on the terrace. The only other sound Tess could hear was Nick’s uneven breathing as he lay beside her. Inches separated them, though it felt like miles.

  He wasn’t asleep. Though he lay perfectly still, she could feel the energy and heat that radiated off his body. Somehow, though, she knew that this time the heat and energy didn’t come from sexual desire. She’d known that feeling, and this was different. This feeling came from anger. Anger at her, no doubt, for telling him no. Anger at himself for giving in to his desire for a woman who wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

  Sadness overwhelmed her. She shivered and reached down to pull the sheet over her. Their passion had been spent. No
w there was nothing between them, only a void that couldn’t be filled.

  She’d known this time would come, when Nick would feel nothing for her but disdain. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier for her to deal with. She just wished he would say something. Anything would be better than this silence.

  “I guess I should have closed the doors,” she said softly. “The carpet must be soaked.” She waited for some kind of response, and when it didn’t come, she went on. “Not that it matters. If the damage is too bad, I’ll have it replaced.”

  “Tell me something.” His voice was equally soft, but the underlying hard tone she heard made her blood run cold. “When did you plan to give me the bad news?”

  She looked at him. “Tomorrow. I was definitely going to call you tomorrow.”

  “You mean like you were definitely going to call me as soon as you returned from your mystery trip?”

  There was nothing she could say to that. She’d already admitted to herself that she was being a coward when she’d made the decision to put off the call, though she had no intention of admitting it to him.

  “No answer to that, Tess? Okay, then tell me something else.”

  She tensed. The sudden sharpness in his voice could have cut through steel. “What?”

  “Did I ever have a chance?”

  She quietly sighed. “I thought there might be a chance. I knew it was a long shot, but I checked it out anyway.” She shook her head. “I tried, Nick. I really did.”

  He jammed a pillow behind his head. “Right.”

  “Look, there’s no point in continuing to talk about this. I did try, but it didn’t work out as I had hoped it might.”

  “What’s to work out, Tess? It’s easy. All you have to do is say stop.”

  “It’s not that easy. It’s much more involved than you’ll ever know. In fact, nothing about any of this is easy.”

  He came up on one elbow and stared down at her. “Why not? You’re the oil baron—or baroness, if you prefer—with money to burn. What’s so difficult? You stop drilling for three months—hell, at this point I would take two. Then, after that time, you start up again. You can’t be so cash poor that waiting a couple of months to bring up the oil will be that detrimental to your balance sheet.”