by Jenna Kernan
She saw his taillights and forced herself to slow, giving him a few minutes to prepare for her arrival. She lingered in the driveway and stared up at the stars sparkling above. Dividing the sky from the earth stood the dark silhouette of the Black Mountain. Her people had lived in the place so long it was a part of them and they a part of it. She felt it then, the beating pulse of the earth beneath her joining in sacred ceremony with the beat of her heart.
The door to his house opened, and Clay filled the frame, dark before the light within.
“Izzie?” he called.
And she went to him, entering his home as he swept aside to make room for her passing, before he closed the door behind her.
He took her coat and ushered her in to the living room. She glanced at a very tempting couch that looked long enough for them to stretch out. They sat on the soft sofa, she by the armrest, he on the center cushion. She wondered if her mother would notice her absence. She often came in from livestock meetings to find the lights out and her mother’s bedroom door shut. It was her mother’s way of reminding Izzie that she did not like the cattle business or the cattle her husband had left to his daughter.
Izzie turned toward Clay, admiring his familiar, handsome face and knowing they were also strangers, separated now by years and experience.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
She shook her head and pivoted toward him. She lifted a hand to caress the hard blade of a jawbone. Izzie met the intense gaze that gave Clay the air of danger. Clay sat still, as Izzie explored his face with her fingertips, becoming familiar with the man he now was. She slid closer and looped her arms around him, lacing her fingers behind his neck. She sighed in satisfaction, recalling all the prayers that Clay would be hers.
And now he would be, and she wondered why, in all that time, she’d never once asked to keep him and still keep the peace in her home. Her father had warned that this man would cost her everything. Had he been right?
She had made a promise to her father to run the business, but did that mean she had to live like a nun? For a moment she let herself imagine what it would be like to have Clay, not just for tonight, but every night. She wanted that. But if life had taught her one lesson, it was that you did not usually get what you wanted. You had to choose carefully.
His phone rang and they both jumped. He glanced down and saw it was Clyne. He turned the screen so she could see, and she nodded. His brother might have more news.
“Hey,” said Clay.
“Hey. I’m not sure what’s up with those grazing permits, but Tessay was adamant that we not interfere with Pizarro’s decisions. Undermining him, he said. He said we’ve never questioned him before, and it set a bad precedent.”
“All true,” said Clay.
Izzie wondered if he should tell Clyne she could hear him.
“But there was something about it. Didn’t feel right. You coming over to Grandma’s tonight? We can talk some more.”
He grimaced. “No. I’m beat.”
A hesitation. Had his brother made a guess as to what was really occupying him?
“Tomorrow, then,” said Clyne at last.
“Sure. Tomorrow.”
Clyne disconnected, and Clay set the phone on the coffee table, turning his attention back to her. She gave him a smile that she hoped was full of sensual promise. Tonight, she would pretend that nothing would separate them.
Izzie stood and held out a hand to him.
He reached, clasping tight. He remained seated, looking up at her with what she thought might be hope. His hand gripped hers more tightly as if he was afraid she might let go. The taut lines at his mouth showed that he was unsure what she was doing. Did he think she might leave him now? She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave him unless dragged from his arms. All those wasted years haunted her, and so did her need to always do absolutely everything that was expected. Acting, not doing what was right for her, but what was right for everyone else. Well, not tonight. Tonight was about what was right for her and for Clay.
“Izzie?” he asked.
“Show me your bedroom, Clay.”
He was on his feet so fast, she startled back a step. A moment later he swept her up in his solid arms, leaving the living room behind. He was bigger and stronger now. His face had changed, too, becoming more angular and his eyes showing a wariness that she had only glimpsed when he was a teenager. It came from his father back then. Now it came from being betrayed. Izzie vowed to never betray his trust.
She laughed as he hoisted her with no effort and fairly flew down the hall that led to a room cast in shadow. She could see all that was important: the large bed and headboard. He laid her down upon the soft comforter, and she was enveloped by his masculine scent. It was heady as any alcohol, and in moments she was drunk with passion.
She lifted a leg, and he tugged off her boot and socks. Then he repeated the procedure on the other leg. He abandoned her for the time it took to remove his own boots and socks.
He rested a knee upon the bed, and she realized with a thrill of dread and excitement how big his body was compared to hers. She reached, and he knelt beside her. She reclined on the pillows, and he braced himself as if he meant to do a series of push-ups. Instead he lowered himself inch by delicious inch until he pressed her down to the bedding. Their mouths met, and her flesh tingled. She threaded her hands in his thick hair and tugged him closer. He held his weight off her, his chest just skimming against her breasts as he swayed side to side in the most deliciously sensual move. The gentle friction drove her crazy, and she surged up to meet him, pressing her breasts to the arousing hard surface of his chest. He rolled to his back and carried her with him. Her legs now straddled his denim-sheathed thighs, and her belly came in contact with the evidence of his need for her. The thrill of anticipation beat inside her with her thrumming heart. He deepened the kiss, their tongues now sliding one against the other. But she needed to feel his skin against hers, so she pulled back. Her eyes were adjusting to the light filtering in from the hallway now, and she could see the tension in his jaw as he waited for her. This was Clay. The boy she had loved and the man she desired.
His breathing was heavy. She sat up, shifting so she straddled his middle and came down on his hips. He sucked in a breath and released it in a hiss. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she had hurt him. But the pain he felt was just like hers, need and longing mixed with desire.
“Oh, Bella,” he said. “I’ve dreamed of this so many times.”
She smiled and grasped at the fabric at her waist, clasping the hem of the turquoise button-up blouse she wore and dragging it over her head. Beneath she wore her best bra, which was low-cut but not extremely revealing. This was just a plain white lace B-cup that she filled. But it didn’t seem to matter because Clay now stared up at her in wonder, as if she were the most erotic thing he had ever seen.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as his hands slipped up to encircle her waist. His grip slackened, and his fingers danced down her back, sending a delicious tingle over her skin. Finally, he cradled her backside, still unfortunately clad in her best black jeans. He tugged the two of them into closer contact and she thrilled as he rose up to kiss the bare skin at her shoulder. She sat straddling his waist, letting her head loll back as he showered hot, wet kisses on her neck, his tongue and teeth arousing her flesh.
She stopped him only to drag off his plaid flannel shirt and the white T-shirt he wore beneath. It was like Christmas morning, she thought, exploring his square shoulders, broad chest and muscular back. Her fingers roamed over taut rippling muscle and velvety skin. The pads of her fingers grazed over warm flesh that dimpled under her touch. She smile in triumph, relishing the reaction of her touch, but her lips fell open with a groan of pleasure as his mouth found her breasts, soaking the lace over one hard nipple and then the next.
T
hey were so good together and it frightened her.
But it didn’t stop her, not as she eased out of her jeans. Not as she unfastened his. She wasn’t turning back. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the fallout of this decision. Tonight was her chance to make the biggest, most wonderful mistake of her life.
Chapter Sixteen
Clay couldn’t believe this was happening.
As he kicked off his jeans, he could hear the voice of doubt reminding him that she had not been honest with Martin. She had told him that she had gone out with Martin in order to be with Clay. Martin had told a different story. One that had just about killed him.
But that was in the past. Yet another past he’d never really been able to put behind him, even now when Izzie was here in his bedroom stripping out of her jeans and panties and bra. He followed suit, dragging off his remaining clothing and tossing them away. He wanted her desperately, but not so desperately that he did not stop in stunned silence at her beauty. She knelt before him on the bed, naked and mysterious as the night. Her breasts were larger than the last time he’d touched them, the nipples the same soft rosy brown and tight now with excitement. Her flat stomach and muscular thighs showed the results of many hours of physical labor. But now she had the narrow waist and flaring hips of a woman. He stared at the glossy black thatch of hair, and his mouth went dry. Gone forever was the thin, playful girl he had known. Izzie was now entirely woman in body and spirit.
Medicine Root Woman, the shaman had named her at her Sunrise Ceremony. Grounded, powerful and somehow momentarily his.
When he lifted his gaze it was to find her surveying his body. What changes did she see?
Their gazes met, and they shared a smile as they reached in unison for each other. She pressed against him, and his body twitched and jumped with need.
He dragged the fastening from her hair, releasing the coiled rope from its neat, functional bun at the back of her head. Her glossy, deep brown hair unwound until it lay across one shoulder in a twist. He finger-combed the silky strands over her shoulder and down her back, restoring the black curtain that he had always loved. Then he captured her, bringing her head to his chest, allowing him to inhale the scent of her hair. Still sage, he realized. She inched closer until her sex met his.
He stilled, closing his eyes for a moment to thank God for his good fortune. He’d lost her for so long. Now he prayed for a new beginning. That she was no longer ashamed of him. In this moment, he realized why it was so important to keep his job and earn back the respect he had lost on that day long ago. It was for Izzie. He wanted to be the man she deserved. To make her proud.
Clay kissed her mouth, and Izzie let him take her weight, trusting him with her body. He lay her back on the pillows, tasting her as he explored the recesses of her mouth. Then he moved down her throat to kiss her perfect breasts. His reward was the soft moans of pleasure that escaped her parted lips as he continued to kiss and stroke.
He didn’t know why Izzie was giving him this second chance, but he planned to do everything he could to please her. He dipped lower. Izzie’s cries became more frantic, and she reached out with desperate greedy hands, whispering for him to take her. He drew back. He wanted her more than almost anything. But not so much that he would take advantage of the best thing in his life.
“Bella, are you sure?”
She opened her eyes. Her lips were swollen with his kisses, and her need called to him louder than any siren.
“Yes. Now, Clay. I need you.” She didn’t lie there waiting but took hold of what she wanted.
Now his breath came in a ragged pant. “Let me get a condom.”
“I’m using birth control.”
“No condom?”
She shook her head. “I want to feel you.”
Wasn’t that the ultimate show of faith? She trusted him, deep down and wholeheartedly. Clay felt so happy he thought he might cry. But he didn’t. Instead he shifted between her legs and eased down inside her. It was that first slow, silken glide that met with resistance. He glanced up at her as a question formed in his brain, but she lifted up, and he slid deeper. Isabella stilled and then began to move. He wanted to go slow, to savor this first time, but the pleasure and the need to move won over his good intentions, and he drove hard to match the pace she set. He relished the change in her breathing and the arching of her back as she reached her pleasure. He followed a moment later. He dropped down upon Isabella and let her finish him. As the mind-blowing sensations rocketed through him, he dragged her against him, wishing he never had to let go.
As his body relaxed, his mind re-engaged, and he thought to wonder as she lay nestling in his arms, why, after all these years, had she picked this night to take what he had offered her so many times before? His grandmother, who was a very wise woman, had once told him that a woman’s heart is not so easy to read as a man’s. A man loves or hates. But a woman can do both at the same time. She might use her body to hurt a man or use a man or love a man. The trick, of course, was to know one from the other. That memory disturbed him and kept him from sleep. There was something else that bothered him, but he could not quite remember what. Finally, he realized what it was that had tried to break through his thoughts, back when he had no thoughts but finishing what Izzie had started.
Martin had lied to him, not once, but twice. Clay knew that because, despite all the tales Martin had told him, until tonight, Izzie had been a virgin.
Clay stroked her glossy hair and listened to her soft breathing. Finally he dozed and woke when Izzie slipped from his arms. He rose on an elbow and followed her with his eyes as she disappeared into his bathroom. Then he flicked on the bedside lamp. The evidence of his suspicion was there on his skin. Isabella’s innocence and Martin’s lie. He wondered why he’d believed Martin when he said he’d taken her again and again. And why he had believed Martin when he’d said he wanted to grab a pop from that store.
Now, at least, Clay understood why Martin had risked his neck to steal the money to take a frightened little Mexican girl. He felt stupid all over again.
He listened to the water run and then stop. The door opened, and Izzie paused, naked and beautiful in the soft glow of his reading lamp.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
She blushed and lowered her chin before looking at him through a forest of thick dark lashes. “Because I was afraid you’d say no.”
As if he could ever refuse Bella anything.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, but she didn’t stand tall as she usually did, and there was a tentativeness about her that he didn’t recognize.
“Are you sorry?” he asked and then gritted his teeth against her answer.
Her chin came up. “No. I’m not. I’ve always wanted it to be you. I just never expected it to take so long.”
He lifted the covers. “Come here.”
She did, sliding in beside him and nestling face-to-face on his pillows. He draped a leg over her and dragged her closer, then he rolled on to his back. It was hard, because he wanted her again. But he’d wait. There would be time, he thought. She rolled toward him, and one of her legs glided across his thighs. He sighed at the sweetness of having her in his arms. Clay drew slow circles over her back and closed his eyes, forcing down the desire. Had he really thought that taking Izzie would get her out of his system? She was like the drug he could not shake. The habit he would do anything to fill. Izzie’s fingers kneaded his chest like a cat, and she closed her eyes.
Clay reached and switched off the bedside lamp. There in the darkness, with her heart beating slow and her breathing gentle, he held her as she drifted to sleep. It took him some time, because of the images of Izzie beneath him and the images of what else he’d like to do with her. But finally he slipped into slumber that was broken by the faraway bleating of his phone. He glanced at the
clock and saw it was already 6:56 in the morning. He had to get to work, and Izzie needed to get home. He opened his eyes and stretched. His phone was on Do Not Disturb from midnight to seven, so only those on his favorites list would get through. All others had to call twice to get his phone to ring.
Izzie blinked up at him. Her hair was tousled and her skin glowing with health. She slept on her stomach and had kicked off the covers, he realized, giving him a good long look at the slope of her back and the lovely round curve of her buttocks. When his gaze returned to her face, it was to find her grinning that wicked smile she’d cast him last night.
“Good morning,” he said and kissed her brow.
She pushed the hair off her face and lifted up on her elbows. His gaze dropped and his breath caught. Lord, he was going to be late for work.
In the living room, his phone rang again. It was the tone he’d picked for Gabe.
“You going to get that?” she asked.
He gave her a slow shake of his head and returned her knowing smile.
“Good.” She slipped on top of him, her breasts pressing to his bare chest. The heat of her touch made his entire body awaken.
Someone knocked on his front door. Clay’s smile vanished as he sensed something was wrong. He took Izzie’s shoulders and set her aside as he sat up.
“Stay here.”
He slipped out of bed and into his jeans, then cast a look over his shoulder, surprised to see the worry in her face. She knelt on his bed, sheet clutched to her breasts and her other fist over her mouth. He was about to ask her what was wrong when the knock turned into a pounding.
“Clay?”
That was Gabe’s voice.
“Open up.”
He reached the door a moment later and pulled the door open to see Gabe wearing his uniform and a sour look.
“She here?” he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at Izzie’s truck.
“Yeah.”
“Get her.”
Clay cocked his head. “Why?”
