When the rest of their clothes were shed, Duke inclined his head toward her again. Her heart was pounding as she felt his lips skim the side of her neck, then her throat. By then, she could hardly breathe. There were all sorts of wondrous, delicious things going on within her, and Susan gave up the effort of trying to catch her breath.
All she could do was fervently hope that she wasn’t going to pass out.
Hungry for the taste of him, hungry to explore everything there was about this wondrous, exciting familiarity that was unfolding before her, Susan ran her hands along the hard contours of Duke’s body, thrilling to his muscularity.
Thrilling even more to the evidence of his wanting her.
She knew that someone else would have pointed out that he was just having a physical reaction, that it meant nothing.
But it meant something to her.
Because this was Duke Colton and he wanted her. Wanted her as much as she wanted him. She felt a throbbing sensation within her inner core she’d never experienced before.
As he continued kissing Susan, acquainting himself with every inch of her, Duke found himself both wanting to go slow, to savor every second of this—and to go quickly so that he could experience the ultimate pleasure that tempted him so relentlessly.
Somehow, he managed to continue going slow.
To his surprise, he enjoyed watching her react to him, enjoyed the decidedly innocent way surprise registered on her freshly scrubbed face when he teased a climax from her using his fingertips and then his lips. Enjoyed, too, the urgency with which Susan twisted and bucked against him, seeking to absorb the sensation he’d created for her as she also gasped for air.
The expression of wonder on her face made him think that she hadn’t ever—
Duke abruptly stopped what he was doing and looked at her.
Susan felt the change in him immediately. A shadow of fear fell over her and something inside her literally froze.
Her eyes flew open. “What? Why did you stop?” she cried, then immediately questioned, “Did I do something wrong?”
Troubled, Duke sat up and dragged a hand through his hair. It didn’t seem possible in this day and age, and yet…
“Susan, are you a virgin?” he asked her quietly.
Susan pressed her lips together. “No,” she cried with feeling.
Too much feeling, Duke thought, looking at her face. “Susan,” he asked in the same tone he’d just used to inquire after her virginity, “are you lying?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She really wasn’t any good at this, she thought. Lying came so naturally to other people, why did it have to stick in her throat?
“Yes.”
She couldn’t read his expression. Was he angry at her? Disgusted?
“Why?” he asked.
For a moment she stared down at the cracked leather sofa they’d tumbled onto. When she raised her eyes again, there was a look of defiance in them. She had as much right to this, to making a choice, as anyone.
“Because I want it to be you,” she told him. “I want you to be the first.”
He needed to understand her reasoning. He wanted her to make him understand. “Why?”
Why did they have to discuss this now? Why couldn’t it just happen? She was fairly certain that other women didn’t have to explain themselves before they made love for the first time.
“Because I never felt this way before,” she told him truthfully. “Never wanted to make love with anyone before. I promise I won’t hold you to anything, won’t expect anything. Not even for you to do it again,” she added, her voice soft. She touched his arm, silently supplicating. “Just don’t turn away from me now. Please.”
He looked at her. Never in a million years would he have thought that he’d be trying to talk a woman out of making love with him. But he couldn’t just take her innocence from her without trying to make her understand what she was doing.
“Susan, you don’t know what you’re asking. I’m not any good for you,” he insisted.
Susan raised her eyes to his. “That’s not for you to decide,” she told him simply. “That’s my decision—and I’ve made it.”
He should have been able to get up and walk away, Duke thought. The act of lovemaking—of having sex—had never been so all consuming to him that he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t easily separate himself from his actions. Couldn’t just cut it off with no lingering repercussions.
But this time it was different.
This time, there was something about it, about Susan, about the sweetness that she was offering up to him, that robbed him of his free will, of his ability to stop, get up and walk away. He always could before.
He couldn’t now.
He lightly cupped her cheek with his hand, the tender expression all but foreign to him. “You’re going to be sorry,” he predicted.
Susan’s voice was firm, confident, as she replied, “No, I’m not.”
He had nothing left in his arsenal to use in order to push her away. He didn’t want to push her away. Every fiber of his being suddenly wanted her, wanted the life-sustaining energy he saw contained within her. Wanted, he knew, to completely wrap himself up in her and lose himself, lose the huge weight he felt pressing down on him.
Making love with Susan made him feel lighter than air and he didn’t want to surrender that. Not yet. Not until he had a chance to follow that feeling to its ultimate conclusion.
Taking her into his arms again, Duke lay back down with her. He kissed Susan over and over again until he felt as if he were having an out-of-body experience.
And when he finally couldn’t hold back any longer and he entered her, the small gasp of surprise that escaped her lips almost had him pulling back. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.
But she wouldn’t let him stop. And for a single moment, she was the strong one, not Duke. She took the choice out of his hands.
They became one, rushing to the final, all-fulfilling moment, one of body, one of soul. And when it happened, when the final burst overtook him, Duke realized that he had never felt this complete before.
He had no idea what that meant. But now wasn’t the time to explore it.
He held her to him, waiting for his heart to stop pounding so hard.
Maisie Colton didn’t realize she was crying until she blinked and a tear slid down her face.
She’d seen them.
Had seen them kissing.
Had seen that two-bit floozy, Susan Kelley, sinking her claws into her little brother. Into Duke. Casting a spell over him.
Five years older and six inches shorter than Duke, Maisie bore a striking resemblance to her brother, except for her dramatic aqua eyes, and she felt closer to Duke than she did to anyone.
She wasn’t going to stand for it. Wasn’t going to allow that Kelley slut to make off with the only person on the ranch who was her ally. Duke didn’t look down his nose at her, didn’t judge her the way her father and the others did. Duke understood what it felt like to be a loner. Moreover, he’d never questioned her about her son, Jeremy, never even asked her who the boy’s father was. Unlike their own father, Darius, who even now never missed an opportunity to badger her about her “shameless” betrayal of the family honor.
Like her father knew anything about honor, she thought contemptuously.
It was Duke who knew about honor. Like a strong, silent knight in shining armor, Duke had always been there for her. She could actually talk to him, tell him how she felt about things and he’d listen to her. Listen without judging.
She’d come to rely on him a great deal.
But if Duke got mixed up with that little whore, then everything would change. She’d lose him, lose the only friend she had around here.
She’d be all alone.
Suddenly feeling cold, Maisie ran her hands up and down her arms.
It wasn’t going to happen, she promised herself. Duke wasn’t going to take up with that little twerp. Not if
she had anything to say about it.
Not even if she had to do something drastic to Susan Kelley to make her back off.
Permanently.
They’d gone inside.
Holding her breath, Maisie made her way slowly toward the house. She had to see what they were up to, had to see if it was as bad as she thought.
Maisie hated the Kelleys, hated the idea of any of her family getting mixed up with them. She couldn’t stand the idea of Susan Kelley even talking to her brother. If the little bitch was doing anything else, that would be so much worse.
Maisie looked around. The terrain was as flat as the pancakes she’d made for Jeremy for breakfast this morning. If anyone was coming, she’d see them. But there was no one around. No one to see what she was about to do and chastise her for it.
She had a right to protect herself, Maisie silently argued. A right to protect what was hers.
Tiptoeing over to the window beside the front door, Maisie moved in what amounted to slow motion the last foot. And then she peered into the window by degrees to ensure that they didn’t see her.
Maybe there was nothing going on.
Maybe he didn’t like the way she kissed.
Maisie looked in, hoping. Praying.
Her heart froze within her chest.
Pressing her lips together to stifle a gasp, she pulled back against the wall, her heart hammering in her shallow chest.
Damn it, it was worse than she thought.
That whore was naked. Stark-naked. So was Duke. How could he? He was letting that little whore throw herself at him. Tempt him. Didn’t he know that the little bitch was no good for him? Why wasn’t he throwing her out? Telling her to leave?
She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears filled them. A sob clawed its way up her throat but she deliberately kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t take a chance on them hearing her.
God but she wished she’d thought to bring her gun with her. Just to fire over that bitch’s head. Just to scare her a little.
Or maybe a lot.
Susan Kelley had no right to take Duke away from her. No damn right! If her brother abandoned her, if he chose that whore over her, who was she going to talk to?
She had to find a way to scare this little two-bit whore off. And if she couldn’t scare Susan off, then she was just going to have to kill her. There’d be no other choice.
The thought made Maisie smile.
Chapter 11
Dragging air into his lungs, Duke sat up on the sofa, watching Susan. Trying to reconcile what he knew about her with what he’d just discovered about her. That she seemed to have the capacity to do the impossible. She had rocked his world.
“You can stay, you know. If you want to,” Duke was quick to qualify. That way, the ball was in her court and not his. He wasn’t asking her to stay, he was telling her she could if she wanted to. That put the emphasis on her desire, not his.
He was having trouble wrestling with these newfound sensations and emotions and didn’t want to make things worse by exposing them to public scrutiny.
Susan was gathering up her clothes from the floor as quickly as she could. Now that the passion and the ensuing euphoria had both faded away, she felt awkward. Naked was not exactly her normal state of being. Naked made her uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
Not to mention she had this strange feeling she couldn’t seem to shake that they had been observed. She could have sworn that when she’d thrown back her head at one point, she’d seen something move by the window. And if there was someone outside, wouldn’t they have knocked by now?
A tree branch, it was probably just a tree branch, swaying in the hot breeze, she silently insisted to herself. She was just being jumpy.
Be that as it may, Susan knew she’d feel better once she had her clothes back on. And as for Duke, well, he didn’t sound as if he cared one way or another if she stayed or if she left.
So she was determined to leave while there was still a shred of dignity available to her—or for her to pretend that it was available.
“I’ve got to get back to the restaurant,” Susan murmured in response to Duke’s cavalier invitation of sorts.
“You do what you have to do,” he told her matter-of-factly.
Totally unselfconscious about being stark-naked he fetched his jeans and slid them on.
Even battling embarrassment, Susan had trouble drawing her eyes away from Duke from the moment that he got up.
She couldn’t help thinking that Duke Colton was one hell of a specimen of manhood.
Wearing only his jeans, barely zipped and still unsnapped, consequently dipping precariously low on hips that put the word sculptured to shame, Duke turned to her. Very slowly, as if he was drawing out scattered leaves, he ran his fingers through her hair.
His eyes held hers.
She hadn’t a clue as to what he was thinking or feeling.
“Sure you have to go?” he asked her.
A very firm yes! hovered on her lips, but somehow couldn’t manage to emerge. The lone word was seared into place by the heat of the lightning bolts that insisted on going off inside her all over again. She could hardly even breathe.
One by one, Duke removed the clothes she was clutching against her, never looking at either them or at the bit of her that was uncovered once the clothing was cast aside. Instead, his eyes remained on hers, doing a fantastic job of unraveling her.
She finally found her tongue. It was thick and clumsy—and definitely not cooperating. “I…really…have to…go.”
“If you say so,” Duke murmured. Tilting her head up toward his, he brought his mouth down to hers again.
And succeeded in keeping her there for yet another go-round, another hour filled with salvos of ecstasy and brand-new peaks that begged to be explored and then went off like rocket flares.
“You know he’s only toying with you.”
Two days later, lost in her own world, her mind only partially on working out the menu for the next dinner she and her staff were scheduled to cater, Susan looked up, startled by the intrusion of the harsh voice.
She was in her office and although she distinctly remembered leaving her door open, it was closed now. And there was a woman in the office with her. Glaring at her.
It took Susan a moment to realize who the woman was. Maisie Colton, the oldest of eight full- and half-sibling Colton offspring. The woman looked a little wild-eyed. And not a hundred-percent mentally stable.
Susan knew all about the whispers, the rumors. Maisie Colton had borne a love child, fathered by a man she refused to name. Speculation, even now, fourteen years later, ran high and rampant as to who that man might be. But Maisie’s lips were sealed.
Guarding her secret so zealously despite her father’s unrelenting attempts to uncover the man’s identity might be the reason that Maisie seemed to be so off-kilter these days. To everyone who dealt with her, she seemed to be two cards shy of a full deck, if not more. That was the way Susan had heard her father describe Maisie. There’d been pity in his voice when he’d said it.
There were times, like now, when Maisie appeared to be going off the deep end.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Maisie,” Susan answered, her tone politely dismissing the woman.
But Maisie wasn’t about to be brushed aside that easily. She drew herself up, looming over Susan, “Sure you do,” she insisted, then fairly shouted at her. “I’m talking about my brother.”
Susan raised her chin. She was not about to let herself be chastised.
“You have lots of brothers.” Whereas she had only one and she really wished Jake was here right now to rid her of this menace.
The next moment, Susan silently upbraided herself. She was twenty-five years old, running a successful business and had, due to that romantic interlude with Duke, crossed over into the world of womanhood. It was time she stopped looking to others to champion her and took up weapons to fight her own battles.
“Duke, I’m talking about Duke!” Maisie shouted at her impatiently. “He’s just toying with you. You don’t mean anything to him, so why don’t you save yourself a lot of grief and just stop hanging around him?” Maisie fairly spat out.
For a moment, Susan stared at the older woman. Was she guessing, or had Duke actually told her about their afternoon? Had he thought so little of her that he’d broadcast what they had done together for anyone to hear? How many other people knew?
And then, for no apparent reason, it came to her out of the blue. She had her answer. She hadn’t imagined that there was someone watching them that day at Duke’s house, there had been someone watching. Maisie.
She thought she was going to be sick.
But in the next moment, the feeling passed. Instead, Susan became angry. Very, very angry. “You watched us, didn’t you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing into blazing slits.
Taken by surprise by the accusation, Maisie had no ready answer at her disposal.
She stumbled over her own tongue, then tossed her long brown hair over her painfully thin shoulder. “What if I did?” she retorted haughtily.
Susan would have preferred to be friends with the older woman. She liked to think of herself as friendly and outgoing. The kind of woman another woman would have welcomed as a friend.
But by attacking her, Maisie left her no choice. This was not her fault.
“There are names for people like you,” she informed Duke’s unstable sister, making no secret of the disgust she was experiencing.
Nothing Susan could have actually said could have been worse than the names that were running now through Maisie’s head. Names her father had flung at her more than once. Wanting to strike out, she doubled up her fists. But rather than hit Susan, Maisie uttered an angry cry and swiped her hand along Susan’s desk, sending a vase of daisies crashing to the floor. The vase broke, leaving the flowers homeless.
“You’ll be sorry,” Maisie predicted furiously, yanking open the office door. “Wait and see, you’ll be sorry.”
Colton by Marriage Page 11
