“You aren’t in this alone,” he murmured into the sweet fragrance of her hair. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” And he would have sold his soul to the very devil to be able to go on holding her, but all too soon she pulled herself out of his arms and stood.
“Well, there has to be a reason...” she said, pacing the area in front of the sofa.
“There’s all the classic motives—revenge, greed, passion.” He eyed her curiously. “You didn’t anger some jealous boyfriend before you left New York, did you?”
“Sure, and he followed me here and is now randomly firing guns at me and sawing through well covers,” she said sarcastically, then sighed. “There are no jealous boyfriends,” she informed him with a short, humorless burst of laughter. “There are no boyfriends at all. I don’t have time for men.”
He nodded, not knowing what else to say and unwilling to admit that what he felt was a sudden burst of satisfaction at her confession. “Can you think of any reason for somebody to want to hurt you?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I can’t imagine. No jealous boyfriends, nobody who would want revenge, and I don’t own anything that would bring out someone’s greed.” She frowned. “Unless...?”
“Unless?” he prompted.
“What do you know about Raymond Boswell?” she asked suddenly.
He looked at her in surprise. “Not much. What does he have to do with any of this?”
She shook her head. “Oh, never mind. It’s probably crazy.”
“Tell me and let me be the judge of crazy.”
She frowned a moment and toyed with a strand of her hair. “He came out to the farm earlier today and offered to buy us out. He indicated that Ben wouldn’t be adverse to selling the place.” She stared at Reese, the blueness of her eyes muddied with speculation. “If he knew that Ben was willing to sell, and that if something happens to me the farm will eventually go to Jackie and Ben and Lindy...” She let her voice trail off and her eyes widened slightly. “And if he knew that Mama wouldn’t sell, but that if she died the farm would go to a daughter who lived in New York...” She gasped, trembling once again. “Reese, was there anything suspicious about Mama’s death?” Tears pooled in her eyes, causing them to shimmer.
“No, of course not,” he answered swiftly, although she’d made him start to think. Margaret had fallen down a flight of stairs, but there was no way to tell if she was helped in that fall.
Raymond Boswell and his company had bought a number of farms in the area, and even though there had been no whispers or rumors of strong-arm tactics, maybe it was time Reese looked a little closer at the man.
Sarah collapsed onto the sofa, looking exhausted by the entire conversation.
“You okay?” he asked softly. She nodded. “I’m sorry I had to tell you all this, but you need to know. You need to be careful.”
Again she nodded and sighed. Reese studied her features, a longing building up inside him. A longing to hold her, taste her, make love to her until she moaned his name over and over again. She’d said there was no man currently in her life, but had there been other men in the last six years? Certainly in the passing years there had been other women for him, but they had merely sated his physical lust. None of them had managed to quench the thirst of his soul the way Sarah had once done.
Without conscious thought, he reached out and touched the softness of her hair, ran his finger along the curve of her jaw. She looked up at him, and in the depths of her eyes he saw a like hunger, a need as tremendous as his own. With a groan, he captured her mouth with his.
He didn’t kiss her gently. He kissed her urgently, savagely, unable to restrain the intense desire that she evoked. And she kissed him back, hot and wild as she tangled her hands in his hair.
He moved his hands up beneath her blouse, caressing the smooth, warm skin of her back. She moaned into his mouth, a deep moan of pleasure and abandon that further fanned the flames of his want.
He lifted his lips from hers, his breathing ragged and harsh. “Sarah?” His unspoken question hung in the air and he tensed, waiting for her to answer it.
Her eyes were hazy, glossed with passion’s touch. She tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her. “Yes,” she whispered softly. “Make love to me, Reese.” This time it was her lips that sought his.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew it was a mistake. He knew this was probably one of the most unwise things he would ever do. But he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to examine wrong or right. He knew he should be strong for both of them, stop this before it went any further. But he couldn’t be strong. He only wanted to dwell in the depths of her eyes, lose himself in the satiny sweetness of her skin, bask in the moment of passion.
In one swift movement he stood and swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs toward his bedroom, accepting that he was weak, so very weak where she was concerned.
Chapter 8
Moonlight danced in through the window, swaying across the bed. Reese didn’t turn on the light, and Sarah was grateful. She needed the semidarkness of the room to hold on to the thick fog that obscured reason from her mind. She didn’t want reason, she didn’t want thought. She wanted sensation, she wanted passion...she wanted Reese.
He deposited her gently on the bed then stepped back, his eyes glittering boldly as they lingered on her. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, the cotton material whispering against his skin before it slid to the floor. The sound of his belt being unbuckled, the hiss of his zipper, sent a shudder of wild anticipation through Sarah. Oh God, it had been so long.
His jeans fell to the floor, exposing the beauty of his masculine body covered only by his white briefs. The moonlight caressed the planes and muscles of his body, emphasizing the width of his shoulders and the leanness of his hips. The cotton material couldn’t hide his blatant, magnificent arousal.
Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the evidence of his desire, knowing she was responsible for it. The thought only added to her own arousal and she felt her blood thicken, heat with sensual stirrings.
He joined her on the bed, and she lifted her mouth to meet his, reveling in the feel of his warm body pressed tightly against her side. As his lips plied hers, his fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, freeing each one until he could part the material and move his hands over the wispy silk of her bra. His hands were warm, radiating through the soft fabric and bidding her nipples to harden in response.
His mouth moved down her jawline, into the hollow of her neck, then over her collarbone. At the same time, his hands worked to unfasten her jeans. She lifted her hips, aiding him in removing the barrier of clothing, wanting to feel skin against skin, heat against heat.
She moaned as his lips captured the tip of one breast through the filmy bra. Her nipple immediately hardened and swelled, as if reaching for the source of the erotic heat. Her moan turned to a gasp as his mouth continued to blaze a trail of fire, moving down the flat of her stomach, his tongue lingering and teasing along the band of her bikini panties.
Sarah’s head reeled beneath the sensual assault. It had been so long, so very long since she’d felt a man’s arms around her, experienced the heady sensation of a masculine hand stroking fire into her veins. There had been no other men in her life since she’d left Clay Creek, only her memories of what she had once shared with Reese. And she now realized how weak, how pitiful her memories were compared to the reality of being here in his arms. It was more, so much more than her memory could have ever recreated.
He moved back up to reclaim her lips with his, his tongue battling hers in a dance of exquisite pleasure. Sarah gripped his shoulders, then moved her hands across the expanse of his back, memorizing the feel of sinewy muscle beneath fevered flesh.
He seemed to be in no hurry, and neither was she. She wanted each second to last for minutes, each minute for hours. She wanted this moment in time to last through eternity.
Reaching
behind her, he unsnapped her bra and plucked it from her. His mouth immediately brushed against a turgid nipple. He flicked his tongue against it, then sucked the rosy tip into his mouth, creating a responding pull deep in the pit of her stomach. With his hand, he tugged down her panties, his fingers caressing softly, teasingly, at the core of her feminine heat.
“Sweet Sarah,” he muttered against the swell of her breast. “You taste so good. You feel so good. It’s been so long...so very long.” He raised himself up and looked into her eyes; at the same time his fingers entered her moist heat. She gasped her pleasure at his intimate possession. “Touch me, love. Feel what you do to me,” he urged in a hot whisper.
She reached down and tentatively touched his thigh, then moved to stroke his rigidity through the cotton briefs. She whimpered impatiently, pulling at the waistband of the last barrier that remained between them. Within a heartbeat, the briefs joined their other clothing in a pile on the floor and Sarah closed her hand around his hot, thick maleness. She heard his swift intake of breath, a hiss of intense pleasure that merely served to heighten the fires that burned inside her.
The combination of his fingers deep inside her and the silky hotness of his pulsating erection in her hand rocketed her toward the peak of pleasure. She panted for breath, unable to control the shivers that racked her.
She was vaguely aware of him whispering encouragement, murmuring his own pleasure as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge of the pinnacle. As she tumbled over, she clung to him, gasping his name as wave after wave of drowning pleasure swept over her.
Floating, momentarily sated, Sarah lay limp and exhausted in his arms. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, stroking the hair away from her face, then running a finger across the fullness of her bottom lip. With his other hand he began to caress her breast, capturing her rigid nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Surprised, Sarah felt an immediate response, a need that went beyond the physical craving he had just satisfied. She gasped again, felt the renewed curl of heat melting her insides. He kissed her, moving his body between her thighs as he pressed hot and urgently against her center. “Yes,” she whispered, emboldened by the savage hunger he stirred once again in her. “Reese, I want you inside me.”
His eyes flared and he moaned as he pressed forward, entering her wetness, gloving himself deep inside her heat. For a long moment he didn’t move, as if afraid that any movement at all would send him over the edge.
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as long-suppressed emotions exploded inside her. She’d forgotten how well they fit, how right it had always been with him. Someplace deep inside her, she knew it would never be that way with anyone else. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him more deeply into her. She could feel his heartbeat against her breasts, pounding a wild, erratic rhythm that matched his ragged breathing.
Tentatively he moved, withdrawing slightly only to thrust forward and fill her once again. She moved with him, matching him thrust for thrust, needing the total fulfillment he promised with each soul-searing caress, every breathtaking stroke.
Reese struggled to maintain control, unwilling to reach the summit without her. Not yet, he told himself, wanting the sensations, the pleasure, to last forever. But as he felt her muscles convulsing, surrounding his hardness, the last of his control slipped away. He cried out hoarsely as his body stiffened and wave after wave of pleasure swept over him. He was vaguely aware of her cries and whimpers echoing his own, and his own elation was merely intensified by the fact that they had found fulfillment together.
For a long moment neither of them moved. Reese remained inside her, sated but unwilling to break the intimacy of their physical union. He could feel their heartbeats comingling, slowing to a more natural pace.
He’d forgotten the ultimate pleasure of making love to somebody who was a part of his heart. He now realized how deeply he’d cheated himself and the few women he had made love to since Sarah had left town. With them he’d sated a physical need. With Sarah he satisfied a need that went much deeper, to his very soul.
He cared about Sarah, and he didn’t know what to do about it. There was a part of him that couldn’t forgive her, and he didn’t know what to do about that, either. She’d made the decision to take his child and begin a new life in a distant city. She hadn’t believed in him and that’s what he couldn’t forgive.
And then there was Jackie.... He stirred against Sarah’s warmth, unwilling to follow his thoughts any further. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. Tears sparkled in her beautiful eyes, and as one silvery drop slipped down the curve of her cheek, he caught it with his fingertip. “Tears?”
A sob mingled with a little laugh of embarrassment and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I can’t help it,” she whispered softly.
“You never could,” he said with a smile. “It always was beautiful between us,” he added, understanding that it was the depth of intensity that had brought the tears to her eyes.
She nodded and looked at him once again, her eyes filled with a torturous pain. “Yes, this part of us was always good. But it isn’t enough.”
He held her gaze for a long moment and suddenly realized the extent of their mistake.
She needed a husband, a man who would be a father to Jackie. She needed someone who believed in himself, his own worth. And she’d already decided that he would not be that man.
She’d decided well, he thought with a touch of sadness. Despite the biological reality, he wasn’t able to play the role of father. He couldn’t. He simply didn’t know how.
Reluctantly he lifted himself off her and reached for his underwear.
For a moment she remained unmoving, an air of expectancy surrounding her. Reese studiously kept his gaze directed away from her. Her expectation grew heavy in the air. Then her tremulous sigh filled the room, and silently she slipped out of the bed, grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Damn it,” Reese muttered as he reached for his pants and shirt. He’d wanted to make love to her. Someplace inside him, he’d hoped he would discover that there was nothing left of the burning passion, the wondrous joy that had marked their youthful relationship. Some small piece of him had hoped that he would make love to her again and finally be able to put her firmly in his past.
But it hadn’t worked. Loving Sarah again had only managed to tie his heart into a knot, one he might never untangle again. “Damn it,” he repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and shoes.
She came out of the bathroom fully dressed, with no trace of tears remaining. “Would you take me back to the café, back to my car?” There was a tight edge to her voice, an edge that spoke of control so taut it threatened to shatter. She nearly vibrated with the intensity of emotions suppressed.
She looked so damned vulnerable that Reese wished he could do something, say something that would make everything all right. But he knew the one thing she demanded of him wasn’t in him to give.
“Sarah—” He took a step toward her.
She held up a hand. “Please, Reese, don’t say anything. There’s nothing left to say. This was an enormous mistake.” She stiffened her shoulders and looked away. “Consider it a momentary lapse back into the past...a sort of last goodbye between the two of us. I’ll be gone in a few days and I think it best that we not see each other unless absolutely necessary. Now please, just take me to my car.”
He hesitated another moment, then nodded. She was right. There was nothing left to say. It had been wonderful, it had been fantastic...and it had been an enormous mistake.
They drove back to the café in silence, a silence that weighed heavily on Reese. Six years ago she’d been the one good thing in his miserable life and fate had intervened to ruin it. There was no point in going back to try to pick up the pieces. Everything had changed and now she needed too much of him.
He pulled into the café lot and parked next to her car. He shut off the eng
ine and turned to face her, needing to say something...wanting to somehow ease the pain that caused a furrow between her brows. “Sarah, I did love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them and reached out a finger to touch his cheek, a smile of deep sadness on her face. “I know. That’s what makes it hurt so much.” She dropped her hand and got out of his car. “Goodbye, Reese.” There was an empty finality to her words.
He watched her drive away, his heart aching with a peculiar kind of emptiness he hadn’t felt in years. It felt like losing her all over again, only this time he didn’t have the luxury of his youthful anger to mask the pain.
* * *
Sarah drove slowly, her vision blurred by an endless stream of tears. The tears surprised her. She thought she had cried out all the Reese tears six years ago. She thought she’d gotten past the crying where he was concerned.
She’d known it would be a mistake to make love with him again. But the moment his lips had touched hers, she’d realized that they were destined to make love one last time. What she hadn’t expected was the enormous ache that echoed inside her, the ache of incredible loss.
In the best of worlds, she should be able to have both Reese and Jackie as part of her life. But she wasn’t living in the best of worlds. And there were times when life was rotten and choices painful.
Yet there was no choice for her to make. Jackie was as much a part of her world as the very air she breathed, the sun that warmed her on a summer day. Jackie was her heart, her soul, and she was better off with no father at all than a reluctant one.
She and Reese had loved each other once, loved with the innocence of youth, the passion of their hearts, and that love had created a miracle named Jackie. How sad that Reese chose to turn his back and never know the true miracle he’d been a part of; how tragic that he was afraid to be a father to a little girl whose innocent heart held only the purest of love and acceptance.
Sarah realized that perhaps in this one area, she identified too closely with her daughter. Sarah knew what it was like to grow up without a father. Her father had left them when Sarah was seven, and although Margaret had been a loving, supportive mother, there had been a void in Sarah’s life that no amount of “mother” could fill.
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