by Francis Ray
“And scarred.”
He jerked her to him. His black eyes blazed with anger. “Don’t say that! There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Neither my one boyfriend in high school or the one in college would agree with you,” she told him. Her voice and body trembled for a second, then firmed. “You’re the first man who didn’t look at my scars with revulsion. I’ll keep searching until I find a man who wants more than sex.”
His hands flexed on her slim arms. Jealousy swept through him. He stared down at her. Her eyes were sad and determined. They made him ache to be what she wanted. She moved him as no other person had ever done. “Sabrina, I don’t know how to have a relationship, but neither do I want to walk away from you.”
A small smile curved the corners of her mouth, taking the sadness away. Staring up at him, she slid her arms around his waist. “Then this will be a first for both of us. We can learn together.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his gut knotting at the thought. “But I don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t. But if you mess up, I’ll let you know.”
Cade blinked, then laughed, hugged her slim body to him. “The staff at Texas and most doctors quake in their shoes around me. Not you.”
“That’s because I see the man behind the accolades and awards.” Her hands cupped his cheek. “Just like you see me.”
“Sabrina.” He kissed her. He couldn’t wait any longer. The taste of her was even more intoxicating than the first time. She felt right in his arms, as if she were made just for him.
His hand stroked the smooth, bare curve of her back, felt her shiver, press closer. His mouth slid along the curve of her jaw. His other hand cupped her breast, felt the nipple harden and push against his palm. He wanted the material gone, wanted his mouth on her bare skin. If he got this hot with a kiss, what would happen when she was naked under him, his body pumping into hers?
His cell phone rang. He cursed.
“Now I know how Mother feels.” Sighing, she stepped back. “Answer it.”
The ring came again. “I wish—” He snatched it from his belt and answered. “Dr. Mathis,” he snapped. Sabrina flinched. He briefly closed his eyes, and reached for control. “Sorry, what is it?”
He listened, nodded. “I’m on my way.” He ended the call. “I’m needed in the ER for a consult.”
“Then go.” Taking his hand, she started back inside.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Sabrina opened the front door. “I’ll be here. Tomorrow is the block party. I’m grilling.”
“Don’t you dare light that grill,” he ordered.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck and drive carefully.”
He hesitated, then pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss, then ran to his car. The motor rumbled to life. Returning Sabrina’s wave, he pulled out of the driveway, feeling much better than when he’d pulled in, his headache gone.
Fourteen
A little after ten Friday night, Kara slowly secured the wire of the last painting Vera had ordered. She should be elated. She wasn’t.
With the last painting for the spec house done, there would be no reason to keep returning to Tristan’s house. Sadness swamped her. She enjoyed being with him, enjoyed the peace and happiness of being around a person who valued and respected her. That pleasure increased several times when that person was a man she cared about.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan studying one of her paintings. He never seemed to tire of looking at them or of encouraging her. Despite her initial reservations and plan to keep their relationship strictly business, she’d failed miserably. She really cared about him. Those unexpected feelings still scared her a bit. Tristan might care about her as well, but he wasn’t looking at anything long term. His helping her wasn’t tied to their being intimate. As he’d said, he’d accept a no. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to keep saying no.
Was the hurt and misery she’d feel when he walked out of her life worth the pleasure of following her heart? Placing the painting with the others, she stepped back. “It’s finished. We did it.”
“You did it.” Tristan walked over and pulled her into his arms. “I thought of champagne, but I decided this might be better.” He mouth closed over hers in a lazy kiss that slowly heated, just the way her body did.
His head lifted and he stared down into her face. “You better grab your things while I have the willpower to let you go.”
She stared up at him and said what was in her heart. “What if I want to stay?” She kissed him, a highly erotic mating of tongues, her breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs against his legs.
Tristan had planned to keep it light, but lost it. Kara made him horny as hell and protective. He wanted to shake the world and make things right for her. She made him feel emotions he’d never felt for another woman. She got him hot with just a look, and pissed him off that she had so little faith in herself. Yet, like her wonderful paintings, he never grew tired of looking at her, being with her. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
He broke the kiss and finally came up for air. His breathing ragged, he stared down into her desire-filled eyes. Her decision hasn’t been an easy one and he wasn’t going to take her incredible offering lightly.
“Are you sure?” he heard himself ask. He needed her so badly he wanted to whimper, but he wanted it to be right for her with no regrets. He couldn’t stand the thought of her having regrets afterward.
Smiling, she brushed her lips across his, suckled his lower lip, then bit his earlobe. “If you’re up to it.”
The challenging words were barely out of her mouth before he captured hers again. This time the intense heat and desire leaped like a current between them. He’d never gotten this hard this fast. He’d never wanted this badly. From the way she clung to him, making the little whimpers that were driving him crazy, she felt the same urgent need.
Scooping her up in his arms, he hit the stairs, hoping he’d make it. His legs were actually shaking.
“I’m too heavy,” Kara protested.
Tristan would have snorted if he had the extra air in his lungs. Shouldering his bedroom door open, he stumbled toward the bed. Standing her to her feet, he jerked the covers back then tumbled them down into the sheets. He had a split second to thank the housekeeper for changing them, then he caught the intoxicating scent of Kara, felt her lush breasts brush against him, heard her sweet laughter. His body clenched.
“In a bit of a hurry are you?”
He smiled, enjoying her laughter. “A bit, but other things take time.” He straddled her, his hands going to the buttons of her blouse and slipping each free. Slowly he parted the material to reveal incredible smooth satin skin, a plain white bra. Kara’s arms suddenly covered her breasts. His eyes lanced up to her.
“Not very sexy, is it?”
Gently, his eyes on hers, he removed her arms. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Let me show you.” His finger followed the curve of the top of the bra, then his tongue followed. He heard a little whimper, then quickly sat her up to unfasten the bra and toss it aside.
He was the one to whimper then. Her breasts were full and tempting, rising and falling with her accelerated breathing. He leaned forward and took the turgid point into his mouth, suckling. Strawberries and cream. He laved one nipple, then the other.
Her hand cupped his head, holding him to her. The nipple hardened along with another part of his body. If he didn’t get them undressed … Reluctantly releasing her nipple, he jerked off his shirt and kicked off his jeans.
Kara’s eyes widened. He thought it was because of his blatant arousal, then she licked her lips. He shut his eyes to blot out the image of her doing that to him.
“What?”
His eyes snapped open. He saw the uncertainty replace desire and wanted to rile against the person who had taught her not to trust herself or anyone else.
Tenderly, his hand cuppe
d her cheek. “I want you so badly. Seeing you do that almost drove me over the edge.”
“Do what?”
He licked his lips. Her eyes widened with knowledge. “Yes,” she breathed.
She wanted this night with him. For once, she just wanted to forget everything else, except what she wanted. She placed her hand on his chest. It was time she gave as well. Here. Now. “You make me want things I never thought about before.”
She was intrigued and there was no doubt about it. Pleased, he hugged her, then leaned her away from him. He’d never met a woman so sensually unaware of her sexuality or so desirable. “I want to kiss and lick every inch of your delectable body. I want to be buried so deep in your satin heat that we’re one. And when I finish, I want to start all over again.”
“Yes,” she breathed, leaning toward him. She ached with wanting him, and the wanting grew stronger with each ragged breath she drew.
He caught her to him, his mouth locking on hers. Heat and need pulsed through her. Her body was on fire.
Breathing hard, he broke the kiss. Somehow he managed to get her walking shorts off, giving brief and profound thanks they weren’t jeans. He’d planned a more leisurely undressing. He hadn’t been joking about kissing and licking, but that would have to wait for next time.
Then they were both naked, his hands free to roam freely over her incredible body, his mouth to taste silken skin, to incite and plunder. Her mouth and hands were just as busy, arousing and stroking and pushing him to the point of no return.
Untangling himself from her arms and legs, he jerked open the nightstand for the condoms he’d put there the day after he met her. Even then he’d somehow known they’d end up here, the first and only woman he’d ever made love to in this house.
Sheathing himself, he rose over her and stared deep into her passion-glazed eyes. What he saw there made his chest tight, made him harder. He saw desire, but he also saw trust. His lips brushed over hers as his hand skimmed down her body to find her damp and hot.
“Please.” She moved restlessly beneath him.
With one sure thrust of his hips, he joined them. She clenched around him, the fit tight and exquisite. He began to move, bringing them together again and again. Pleasure built. Her long legs wrapped around him, holding him to her, urging him on. The pace quickened. They came together.
Their breathing erratic, he rolled to one side, refusing to release her. He’d never felt anything so right. Kissing her, he tucked her body closer to his, heard her contented sigh. She went full-out every day. She had to be tired. He kissed her forehead.
“Tristan,” she murmured sleepily.
“I’m here.” He kissed her again, managing to pull the covers up over her bare shoulders. His lower body reacted predictably to her naked length pressed against his, but he had no intention of acting on it. She needed to rest. He felt oddly pleased that while she did, he would watch over her.
* * *
Kara woke with a smile on her face, snuggled closer to the warmth. Her eyes snapped open to see Tristan beside her. Panic hit. Flinging back the covers, she jumped naked from the bed.
“Honey, what is it?” Tristan clamped his hand around her wrist.
“She’ll know.” It was too late to be modest. She pulled on his arms, scanning the room for her underwear. She saw her bra several feet from the bed. How could she have been so careless to fall asleep? “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t. You can stay with me.”
“For now. But what about when you get tired of me? Then what?”
His silence sliced through her, but it was no more than she’d expected. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t believe in forever.
“So, that’s all our being together meant to you?” Frost coated each word.
“No, but I still have to go. Please understand.” Kara shook her head, trying to bring some order to her hair. “She’ll keep at me until I feel worthless and ashamed.”
“All the more reason to stay.”
She tried to pull her arm away. His hold was unyielding. “I can’t. I have to go home. I promised my father I’d take care of her.”
“Take care of, not let her abuse you,” Tristan said, his voice tight.
“I have to go.” She snatched her arm free, stepped into her walking shorts, snapped on her bra, and shoved her arms though the sleeves of her shirt. She didn’t have time to search for her underwear.
In jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, he stepped in front of her. “I’m taking your car keys if you don’t promise to drive the speed limit. I mean it. ”
“Let go.” She brushed by him. He caught her arm again.
His eyes blazed. “It’s not over between us.”
“I need to get home.”
Muttering, he released her and grabbed his keys. Kara was already on the stairs.
Inside her car, she kept glancing at the clock on the dashboard. 12:03 A.M. Each time she sped up, a horn sounded. Tristan. Her mother would know. She certainly had when she came home late with Ryan. After he proved he was just using her, her mother hadn’t let Kara forget it. Although she hadn’t been intimate with Burt, she realized her mother wouldn’t have said anything. Burt was wealthy. She’d bite her tongue off before she told her mother that Tristan was probably just as well-off.
Pulling into the driveway, she slammed out of the car and went inside the house. She didn’t have time to put the car in the garage. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see her mother in the den, and tried to creep silently down the hall to her room.
“Kara.”
She swallowed, tensed. “Yes, Mama.”
“Get in here.”
Wiping her sweaty hand over her pants, she opened the door to see her mother in bed with a bag of Oreo cookies and a pint of Blue Bell. She glanced at the clock. “It’s late.”
“I know.” Kara muffled a fake yawn, stretched her arms over her head. “I didn’t want to stop until I finished. Tristan’s mother is decorating a speculation house and she’s using seventeen of my paintings. There’s a good chance when people see the house they’ll want to buy a painting.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. She sprang upright in bed. “Seventeen paintings, and you never said one word!”
Greed won over motherly concern every time with her mother. “Because nothing is certain.”
Her mother looked thoughtful. “Maybe I can get the whirlpool tub for my bathroom, and go to that spa I read about near Austin.”
Lake Austin Spa cost upward of fifteen hundred dollars a day. “The paintings won’t bring in that kind of money,” Kara said.
Her mother didn’t look convinced.
“Good night.” Kara left with her mother still staring at her. Neither trusted the other.
* * *
A little after eleven Saturday morning, Kara finished frosting the second German chocolate cake and placed it in the cake carrier. Five houses on the block had been chosen to host events for the neighborhood block party. Before her father died, they’d been one of the stops with card games and dominoes in the backyard. Her mother had declined this year because she said it was too painful. Kara’s hand clenched as she picked up the cake carrier. She knew the real reason—her mother didn’t want to be bothered and thought the beer and other refreshments her father always provided were a waste of money.
“Did you leave me some cake?” her mother asked as she entered the kitchen.
“Yours is on the table,” Kara said.
“It’s about time you remembered I’m your mother.” She walked over to the three-layer cake. “Those people just want to use you.”
“Daddy always had me make two cakes along with lemon pies,” Kara said, wanting to end the conversation so she could leave.
“And you see where he left me financially.” Her mother’s lips pursed. “I shouldn’t have to depend on anyone.”
Kara heard the anger, but also something that sounded suspiciously close to fear. “Daddy did the best he could. You know tha
t. I realize it’s hard for you, depending on me, but you have to know that I’m here for you.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve always been your daddy’s child more than mine,” her mother said.
Kara started to ask whose fault that was, but instead said, “I gave up my position at the hospital in New Jersey to move back here when Daddy was sick. I stayed for you once we lost him.”
“We both know it’s because he asked you to stay and help out.” Her eyes narrowed. “He promised me so much, and I got nothing.”
“He loved you.”
“If he had loved me, he wouldn’t have left me with nothing,” she snapped. “I can’t buy one thing on my own.”
Material things were all that mattered to her mother. She’d grown up with poor parents and fourteen other siblings. For as long as Kara could remember, she’d never seemed satisfied or happy. In spite of that, her father had loved her. For that very reason, Kara would continue to try and close the gap between them.
“I tried putting money in your account, but you were always overdrawn,” Kara reminded her.
“A measly two hundred dollars a month. Your daddy’s Society Security check is less than that. How can I live off that?” She scoffed, taking a seat. “If you had married Burt, I wouldn’t have to do without. I’d have the things your daddy promised.”
Kara gave up. Nothing she could ever say would change her mother’s mind and she was becomingly increasingly tired of trying. “I’m going to take this cake to Sabrina’s.”
“There you go. Rushing to take care of other people,” her mother said. “You’ve been late getting home all this week. I’m tired of eating leftovers.”
“That was just for two days,” Kara said. “I was here yesterday and cooked. Besides, there’s food to cook.”
“I get tired standing on my feet. You know that.” Her hand flexed on her cane. “But you’re so busy with your life, you don’t think about how difficult mine is.”
“That’s not true, Mama. Anything you want, within reason, I try to get for you,” Kara told her.
“As long as it’s what you want,” her mother said. “You’re listening to Sabrina and that man. Nothing good can come of it. He’s conning you about your paintings. You’ll see. But I still want that shopping trip and the spa you promised.”
