This time, he lifted her, swung her completely around his back, treating her to a moment of weightless terror and exaltation, then raised her high again. Hands balanced on his shoulders, Elena’s gaze locked with his as he ignored the beat and slid her slowly down the front of his body. Neither of them heard the crowd around them clapping, so lost were they in one another.
So very lost. Elena drowned in the wonder of this magical man.
When the band segued into a slow song, Josh didn’t miss a beat, drawing her into the smooth, seductive beauty of a love song. He hummed into her ear, and she listened to the words, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.
Es que te has convertido
En parte de mi alma,
Ya nada me consuela
Sí no estás tu también
She leaned back in surprise that he was singing in Spanish. “You know this song?”
Josh smiled. “My tía used to sing it to me. You have become part of my soul; now nothing comforts me if you’re not here with me.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss gently upon her forehead. “It’s my heritage, too, Elena. I told you that.”
“But—”
“But what?”
She looked over his shoulder, then back into his eyes. “You…that heritage is never mentioned when they write about you.”
He frowned.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?” Josh unclasped their hands and lifted her chin so she would face him. “I don’t hide it. I’m sure not ashamed of it. Is that what you think?”
The worry remained, and that chafed. She’d been like a butterfly released from her cocoon tonight. He’d had a glimpse of the Elena who lived beneath the fear that chained her, and he wanted that Elena back.
He drew her off the dance floor, so they could talk. Dodging children playing, he took her to a deserted spot beneath a lone cottonwood tree. “Look at me,” he demanded.
When her eyes came up flashing, he resisted a grin. “That’s better. Go ahead and get mad at me, if you want to. I like it a hell of a lot more than having you cower.”
Elena looked away.
“Honey, you have to be able to talk to me openly.” He touched her cheek gently, with one finger. “He wouldn’t let you do that, would he?”
He didn’t need to see her hesitant nod to know he was right. The beautiful spirit inside the woman before him had never deserved the battering it had taken. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to avenge her. For an instant he let himself enjoy thinking about making the faceless man grovel as Elena had learned to do.
But first, he had to set this spirit free. Had to convince her that she wouldn’t be knocked down every time she tried to rise.
She needed tenderness. She needed care.
So he pushed away vengeance—for now. Drew her into his arms and rocked her slowly from side to side, resting a cheek against her hair. “I love my tía, and I honor her. She’s a magnificent woman with the fierce heart of a lion. She taught us all Spanish when we were growing up, and she told us stories about life in Mexico.
“But mostly I was raised Anglo—I guess because my father thought of himself more as Anglo, though he loved his family deeply.”
He stopped and looked down at her. “I had the luxury of doing that, didn’t I? I don’t look Latino, so I can accept it or disregard it as I please.”
Josh couldn’t ignore the discomfort of these discoveries. He’d always had a luxury denied to those of full Latino blood. If he were honest, he had to admit that once he’d left his safe little town where his great-aunt commanded such respect from Anglo and Mexican alike, he’d discovered a world where the difference mattered.
So he’d become wholly Anglo, never consciously denying that part of him that wasn’t, but not making a point of it, either, because to do so would limit the roles he was offered.
Not comfortable thoughts right now.
He looked around him at the smiling, happy people, mostly Latino, but a sprinkling of Anglos. Children frolicked through the crowd. Young girls danced with grandfathers. Mothers danced with their sons. The music mixed Mexican love songs and rock-and-roll oldies.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.
Suddenly, an ugly thought arose. “Kruger.” He paused a beat. “He thought it was all right to treat you so badly because you weren’t Anglo, didn’t he?” Josh sickened as he imagined the taunts.
Like the ones he’d heard from her tormentors on the highway. Puta. Whore.
His teeth ground against each other.
Elena’s face gave him the answer without words.
He should have beaten both of those bastards into the ground. He should have never let them leave.
He would find this Kruger. He would take pleasure in making him pay for all the pain Elena had suffered.
Josh wheeled and slammed his fist into the tree. Blinded by a rage he could do nothing about, he wanted to pummel the wood again and again, ignoring the pain in his hand.
Only Elena’s gasp behind him brought him back to his senses.
He whirled around to face her, and she stepped back.
Seeing fear of him on her face stopped him cold. She might as well have driven a knife right into his heart.
Get a grip on your emotions. Elena needs you.
“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I just—” He closed his eyes in disgust. “I want to kill him for what he’s done to you.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”
When she didn’t accept, he felt like the lowest form of life on earth.
Until he felt the first tentative touch of her hand, as she placed it gently in his. Slowly, carefully, he tightened his fingers around hers.
“I will never hurt you, I promise.”
But you will. He wouldn’t mean to, that Elena believed, but he would. How could it be otherwise? Their worlds could not mix. One day, probably very soon, they would have to leave this dream, this time out of mind.
They would go their own separate ways, and she would miss him forever.
But maybe he would miss her a little, too, now and then.
Elena squeezed his hand to comfort them both.
And he winced.
She glanced down. “You’re bleeding. We have to get it cleaned up.”
“It’s only skinned, and it’s my own damn fault for losing my temper.” He grasped her shoulders and smiled. “Trust me, honey. This isn’t the first time for these knuckles. I’ll be fine.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and started to wrap it.
“We have to at least wash it out.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You want it to get infected?”
“It won’t.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What on earth is the problem?”
He squirmed. “It’ll sting.”
Her laughter came out in a snort. “Stop the presses. Big, bad Josh Marshall is afraid of soap and water.”
“So you know my dark secret: I’m pathologically terrified of disinfectants. It seems like Quinn was dousing me with merthiolate every time I turned around when I was a kid.”
“Did he blow on it to take the sting away?” she teased.
“Are you kidding?” His eyes widened. “He was too busy telling me what a dumbass I was for fighting and how he was going to whip my tail as soon as he got me cleaned up.”
“All right, you big baby. We don’t have to use merthiolate, but we do have to wash it off. Come on, I see a faucet over there.” She led the way. When they reached the water, he held out his hand as though facing a firing squad.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, running water over it gently.
“Ow!” Then his tone turned wheedling. “You know you have to kiss it or it won’t heal, right?”
Shaking her head, she took the handkerchief from him and wrapped the cloth gently around his knuckles, tying a neat knot.
Then she brought his hand to
her mouth and placed a tender kiss on it.
She heard a soft sigh. Turning his hand palm up, she pressed a much more sensual kiss to the center, astonished at her own daring.
This time he groaned.
The emerald gleam turned wolfish. The fingers of his other hand tunneled into her hair, drawing her into a scorching, soul-stealing kiss.
And the magic burned once more.
Elena slid her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, flame for flame, sizzle for sizzle. Josh’s arms tightened around her, lifting her to her toes.
Desire poured through her in a wellspring of longing. His firm, soft lips traced over her skin, leaving behind shimmers of need and yearning.
“Elena…” Josh dragged in air to starving lungs. Forced himself to stop when he so very much did not want to. “You’re married.”
She froze. “He has others. We haven’t—it’s been nearly three years and even then…” She shuddered. “He’s never loved me and I don’t love him. I’d have divorced him if I could, but I knew he’d kill me and I couldn’t get away until…” All the light went out of her. “I understand. You’re right.”
“It’s only that—” Josh shook his head. “I work in a world where the boundaries are always fluid, but I’ve never…the way I was raised, I—”
“I get it, I do.” She turned from him, buried her face in her hands, then, with heartbreaking courage, straightened her delicate shoulders. “I admire you for it. I would never have imagined I would break any vow I’d make, but…” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
He believed in vows. If he ever married, he would never break them, but… “He already broke them. He pledged to love, honor and cherish, right?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t think he has ever cared about vows, and me, I was…swept off my feet. I was barely nineteen. He was much older and he seemed so…strong.” She shook her head sadly. “If only I’d known.”
She was battered in spirit, abused emotionally as well as physically. That bastard was her husband in name only.
And she needed so badly to know she was worthy of being cherished.
“I want you, I won’t lie,” he said. “And it’s not only sex, it’s…more somehow. I just…I don’t want to do any more damage to you.”
“I am damaged, aren’t I?”
So sad. So despairing.
“You are not.” He crossed to her. “You’ve been hurt, yes, but there’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing, you hear me?”
Gratitude gleamed behind tears. “You’re wrong…but I want to get better. Want to remember what it was like when I was strong.” She looked up at him, and he saw her demons. Read her hunger. Watched the battle inside her.
“I want this night, Josh,” she finally said. “If you won’t feel that I’ve compromised your integrity, I really, really want this one night with you. Not because you’re Josh Marshall, but because you’re…you. The best man I’ve ever met.”
Humbled, he searched her eyes. Searched his own heart before he answered. “Maybe it should feel wrong,” he said, and he could hear the huskiness in his voice. “But it doesn’t. It feels right. Very right.”
Her smile was tremulous and sweet and hopeful.
“Come with me?” He held out a hand.
When she placed her smaller one in it, he knew, with sudden clarity, that one night would not be enough.
But if it was all they would have, he would make it count.
Gently, Josh cautioned himself moments later.
He never remembered trembling before. His reputation as a lover had been secured long ago—not that he’d ever sought a reputation, but it had come, nonetheless. He’d only made an effort to attune himself to his partners, to share the experience unselfishly. The fact that he genuinely liked women led him to want to do no less.
So he’d always tried to cherish and protect his lovers.
But no woman had ever made him tremble.
Elena rose from the passenger seat and stood before him, shy and uncertain. His heart ached for her. She deserved to know how lovely she was, how much she inspired him with her quiet courage, the determination that triumphed over her terror.
As he ushered her into their room and locked the door, he wished for a bower. He thought of his beach house in Malibu and how much he’d like to show her the sea in the moonlight.
It seemed he was always falling short of what she deserved.
And she never asked for even that much.
He wanted to make up for her suffering. Wanted to keep her with him until he was sure she would be okay.
You’re due back on the set, Josh, in a few weeks. You don’t know enough about her past or her future. Imagine her at the mercy of Mo or Babette. They’d eat her alive in seconds.
It was true. He didn’t have nearly enough information. But he knew that every minute he spent with her was important, no matter how little future there might be for them. She needed to understand that she deserved to be treated with respect and tenderness, to see herself as he saw her—brave as hell and beautiful through and through.
She was also terrifyingly vulnerable—but that he would find a way to fix. There had to be a way to use the assets at his command to make things right for her before he went back to L.A.
Though he had an increasingly strong feeling that Elena would not be easy to leave.
But he didn’t want to think about that now. At this moment, there was a hunger gnawing at him, and a woman who needed his most tender ministrations. If nothing else, he could leave her with the knowledge that the Sexiest Man Alive found her desirable as hell.
That damn title had given him nothing but grief, but if he could give her the gift of it now, he was glad.
“I’m kind of tired, really,” Elena said, turning away.
She was losing her nerve, he realized. He reached for her. Brought her in front of him, both of them facing the mirror. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m a little nervous.”
“You?”
“You matter,” he said softly. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to frighten you.” He crossed his arms in front of her, sheltering her within his warmth. “But I want you so badly, sweetheart.”
Their eyes met in the mirror, hers wide in wonder.
A long moment of silent yearning flowed between them.
“I’m afraid,” she murmured. “But not of you. I just…I want to be enough.”
“Oh, honey, you already are.” Josh rubbed his cheek against her hair as he held her gaze. Slowly, he feathered his fingers up and down her arms.
Then he bent and brushed aside her long hair with his jaw, burnishing the tender juncture of neck and shoulder with his kiss. “Let me show you how beautiful you are, Elena.”
Her indrawn breath rewarded him. He tightened his arms around her and murmured love words in Spanish.
Her head dropped to the side, exposing the vulnerable flesh further.
Josh licked at the sensitive point with slow, languid strokes, suckling lightly…grateful to see her skin rise up in answering goose bumps. He slicked a path of heat and need up her neck, teased the outer curl of her ear. “I want you as I’ve never wanted a woman before.”
Could he honestly mean that? Elena wondered. Wishing with all her soul it was true, she quivered on the edge of a precipice, wondering if she took the next step—would she fly…or would she fall to her destruction?
He paused in the sweet torture to place a chaste kiss on her temple, his deep voice reassuring. “I won’t let you fall, Elena. Trust me…I only want to cherish you.”
Elena dug deep to summon the girl she’d once been—the tomboy, the daredevil—to come back. To give her the strength to take what this beautiful man offered…and to survive when he left.
He could do nothing else but leave. There was no room in the life of a star for a woman who needed to hide. But if she had the courage to claim this night, she would have dreams to live on forever, memories that other women would kill for.
Without ever having experienced true lovemaking before, Elena knew somehow that Josh would show her a world beyond her dreams.
Surely, if she deserved nothing else, even she deserved this night and this man.
Elena reached behind her and slid her fingers through his thick dark mane, yielding to temptation and brushing her bottom across his groin.
When Josh closed his eyes and groaned, she couldn’t help a smile as old as Eve herself. Had she ever dreamed of having power over a man such as he? Elena’s spirit rallied, and she threw away her caution. She curled her fingers and raked his scalp lightly with her nails.
Josh’s eyes popped open. She saw the emerald gleam sharpen just before he sank his teeth into her neck, gently.
Elena’s nipples hardened; warmth pooled between her thighs.
A moan escaped her.
Mesmerized, she watched in the mirror as Josh’s arms uncrossed, as he trailed his fingers over the lace covering her breasts with agonizing slowness, circling her erect nipples with faint, teasing strokes.
Then he cupped the soft weight of her breasts, and the heat of his hands arrowed straight to her center. Her hips rocked in response.
“Ah, God, you are so sweet.” Josh drew his hands away with reluctance, sliding them down her body until one hand splayed across her belly and pressed her back against his hardness. Need had never been more agonizing.
He held her in place, rocking his hips in an age-old rhythm. He would surely die before this was over. He was ready for her, more than ready.
But she was only beginning. If it killed him, he would hold out until she’d experienced all the bliss he was capable of giving her. He would make this last, make it a night she’d remember forever.
But sweet mercy, it wasn’t easy. He felt sixteen again, his mind helpless against his body.
It only got worse when Elena’s head sagged against his shoulder, when she joined him in the motions of love, her body perfectly in tune.
His voice hoarse, he begged her, “Elena, sweet love, don’t…”
Her head came up, her look stricken.
He hastened to reassure her. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You drive me too close to the edge, querida, that’s all. I want to go slow…but you’re not making it easy.” He smiled at her. “Take pity on me, honey. I’m only a man, not a statue.”
The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3) Page 36
