The Price of Honor

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Now here she was, day after day, reeling him in like a fish on the line. And he was flopping around at her feet, ready to beg for mercy.

  But there had been no chance for privacy. There was always someone around when she came twitching that tight little rear his way, leaving her perfume on the air. On his clothes. His hands.

  She was doing it on purpose, that much was clear. Making sure they were never alone.

  Tonight would be different. It was Friday, and he’d given Alma and Joe the weekend off. At noon he had met Belinda in town and she had taken Cody to spend two nights at the Flying Ace. Rachel would bring him home when she went out there for supper Sunday afternoon.

  Tonight, there was no one here but him.

  If she didn’t show up, he’d probably have to cut his own throat.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  He gave himself a final look in the mirror. Clean, pressed shirt, pressed jeans, and his boots were shined. His hair was combed, and he’d just shaved. His hands were clean. His bruises had finally faded a couple of days ago, so at least he was his normal color again. He was as ready as he would ever be.

  No amount of preparation on his part could have readied him for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door.

  She’d worn a dress. Except for the day of the funeral, he hadn’t seen her in a dress since college. And he’d never seen her in a dress like this. It was red, what there was of it. Some kind of stretchy knit thing that looked like it had been spray-painted on. A tube top, nothing more, that covered her from the swell of her breasts down to the tops of her thighs and not an inch more. It was a come-on dress if he’d ever seen one, and he was more than ready to oblige.

  Her legs went on for a mile, clear down to a pair of flimsy red sandals with spike heels.

  “Hell-o-o. My face is up here.”

  Grady swallowed. Hard. “If you wanted me to look at your face, you shouldn’t have worn that excuse for a dress.” But finally his gaze trailed up that mile of legs and that little bit of red, over bare swells, and up to her face. Her eyes looked different. Not their color, but their expression. Mysterious. Dangerous. Her hair was all curls. He’d never seen curls in her hair before.

  She raised her arms out from her sides and turned in a circle. “You like?”

  His hands started to tremble. He swallowed again, looking her up and down. “That sound you just heard was me swallowing my tongue.”

  “Well, now.” She sidled up to him and slipped her arms around his neck.

  Her perfume made him think of sex. As if he needed any help.

  “That’s a crying shame,” she told him, pulling his face down toward hers. “Let me see.” She pressed her lips to his and dipped her tongue between them. “Ah, good,” she murmured, then stroked his tongue with hers. “There it is.”

  Grady clamped his hands on her and performed his own search of her mouth. The kiss left him panting for more. He flexed his fingers on her bare shoulders.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  That sultry, come-hither tone in her voice sent hot tingles dancing down his spine. “Are you sure you want to come in? There’s no one here but me. No buffers tonight, Rachel. No Cody to give you the excuse to tease and run.”

  Her smile was downright dangerous. “Who do you think suggested this was the time for his sleep-over with my nephews?”

  “Planned it all, did you?”

  “They wanted to invite him. I just suggested the timing, that’s all.”

  “Why?” he asked bluntly.

  “Why do you think? Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yes. You have to spell it out.”

  She stepped back, propped her hands on her hips—which made the hemline of that red thing creep up enough to have him sweating—and cocked one hip. “Because I’ve decided you’re going to be my first lover, and I was hoping that by now you’d be over this hang-up you seem to have about my virginity.”

  While he stood there wondering if maybe he really had swallowed his tongue this time, she leaned down and hefted a red leather bag that he hadn’t noticed. That he hadn’t noticed a bag big enough that, if she were boarding a plane, they’d make her check it, well, that was understandable under the circumstances, he figured.

  “Now,” she said, hoisting the bag to her shoulder. “Are you going to invite me in or do I have to stand here and beg?”

  She sounded like she was more inclined to argue than beg, but far be it from him to deny the woman when she had her mind made up. Although her behavior tonight and all the teasing she’d thrown at him during the past couple of weeks was a side of Rachel he’d never seen before.

  She’d never been a pushover, but she’d never been aggressive with him this way, either. He wasn’t quite sure how to react. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to haul her over his shoulder and tumble her straight into bed, where he would peel her out of that red thing like she was a banana. Then he would gobble her up.

  But just two weeks ago, he remembered as he stepped aside and ushered her into the house, he had essentially pushed her away. Why was it he’d done that? Oh, yeah. Virginity—hers. Terror—his. And the truth. The truth he needed to tell her but hadn’t. The truth he now had the means to prove.

  He could tell her right now, and he should. But she seemed to have genuinely put the past behind her. How much sweeter that she would take him on faith that he wouldn’t betray her again, by giving herself to him before she learned he’d never betrayed her at all.

  But how unfair of him to keep something that important from her. And there were other things she should be considering before they took this irreversible step.

  She tossed her bag onto the sofa and spun toward him. “I’m thirsty.”

  He’d just bet she was. Probably scared spitless over what she was about to do. She couldn’t have changed so much that the idea of making love for the first time wouldn’t make her at least a little nervous. But then, they’d done everything but that final act more times than he could count back when they were young and hot for each other. She’d never been a bit shy then.

  “No beer,” she said quickly, holding her hand up palm out.

  “Not if you begged,” he told her. “How about a soft drink?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  While he was out of the room, Rachel pressed a hand to her stomach and ordered herself to calm down. She was getting to him, she could tell. If tonight went as she hoped, she would be taking the biggest step of her life, and she was ready for it. Wanted it. With him. She didn’t want to lose a single second of it to nerves.

  She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. When she opened them again, he was there, watching her, a sweating glass of iced soft drink in each hand.

  “That didn’t take long,” she said inanely.

  He crossed the room and handed one of the glasses to her. Took a drink from his. “You’re nervous.”

  “I guess I am, a little.”

  “You should be.” He took another drink, obviously not planning on helping her through this. “This could be the biggest mistake of your life.”

  She sipped, stalling, then said, “I’m aware of that.”

  “Are you? A lot of people around here still remember the way I left town so fast.”

  “And?”

  “They still talk about it. They’ll talk about you, if you get paired up with me again. You don’t want—”

  “Don’t tell me what I want.”

  “And there’s the sheriff to consider.”

  “He’s not here right now, so he’s not a consideration. Why are you trying to talk me out of this?” The ice in her glass rattled because her hands were shaking. She set the glass on the coffee table. “I’m not asking for promises. I’m not trying to stake a claim on you or pick up where we left off years ago. I’m not even asking you not to betray me again.”

  “Rachel—”

  “I’m only asking for whatever you’re willing to give me. If all y
ou can give me is tonight, so be it. If you don’t want me, Grady, just say so.”

  “Not want you?” He set his glass next to hers and moved closer. With the tips of his callused fingers, he traced a path from her wrists to her shoulders, then back down again. “There hasn’t been a day of my life that I haven’t wanted you since I was old enough to know what it meant.”

  Her knees threatened to give way. She reached out to him for support. “Then why are we standing here talking?”

  Chapter Eleven

  He carried her to his bedroom. With every step he took her words echoed in his mind. She wasn’t looking for promises or claims. But he wanted to make promises. He wanted to stake claims. They should never have been separated. She was the other half of his soul. He’d been a fool to try to live without her. If she could forgive and forget his imagined wrong, then he could put aside her part in causing their separation.

  The sun was still up, but the blinds were closed, filling the room with soft, muted light. Just inside the door he stopped with her in his arms and jammed one heel into the bootjack, kicked off that boot, then did the other.

  She was correct. It was all in the past, and there was no place for it here. This was right. As he stood her next to his bed, he knew that what they were about to do was right.

  “Wait,” she breathed when he pulled her close. “I forgot. In my bag.”

  But he was tired of waiting. He’d waited a lifetime for this, and she’d spent the last two weeks deliberately stirring him up. He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder and tasted her with his tongue.

  “Condoms,” she said on a gasp. “In my bag.”

  “Condoms.” He kissed his way up her neck, then leaned over and opened his nightstand. “In my drawer.”

  “Shouldn’t we…” Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. “Open one?”

  “In a minute.” But first he had to taste where her tongue had just stroked. It was as sweet as he remembered, but she was trembling. He pulled back and looked into her deep blue eyes. “Scared? Or nervous?”

  “Nervous, I guess.”

  “We don’t have to do this, Rachel. Not if you’re not sure.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Grady prayed for her to be sure. Prayed for that strip of red to stay in place, strained though it was as her chest expanded.

  “I’m sure. It’s just the waiting is killing me.”

  “It’s killing me, too.” He smiled slowly. “It’s supposed to.”

  She returned his smile. “Okay. Let’s make it worse.” She reached for the buttons on his shirt and started undoing them.

  Fair enough, he thought, since once he peeled that dress off her, he was going to be a goner.

  With his shirt unbuttoned, she spread her hands across his chest, then leaned into him and rubbed her cheek against him. The feeling was so exquisite, he moaned.

  “You’re harder than you used to be.”

  He closed his eyes and nudged his hips against hers. “I know.”

  She chuckled. “I meant your chest. Oh, how I’ve missed your chest.” She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms to let it fall to the floor. “Your arms are harder, too. I like you this way.”

  He slid his hands across her back and discovered that the taunting red fabric moved with them. Her body had changed, too. She was fuller, more rounded than he remembered. A woman now rather than a girl. “I like you this way, too.”

  He took her mouth with his and peeled her dress down to her waist. His hands slipped unerringly to her breasts. “I like you this way even better.”

  Rachel closed her eyes in wonder as, for the first time in five years, a man’s hands gave her pleasure. This man’s hands. The only man. “Grady…oh, Grady, I’ve missed you.”

  He took her down to the bed and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to feel him settle his weight between her thighs.

  “And I’ve missed you,” he told her, raising himself up on one elbow to look at her.

  She thought she would be shy, feel awkward, when he looked at her. No man had seen her naked since…since he had. But the desire in his eyes took away any shyness she might have felt. Instead, she felt pleased and proud that the sight of her put that much hunger in those blue-green eyes.

  “I’ve missed touching you.” He smoothed a hand up her ribs to cup one breast, to tease her nipple with his thumb.

  Rachel arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

  “I’ve missed tasting you.” He bent and flicked her nipple with his tongue.

  She nearly came off the bed, so powerful was the sensation that shot through her. How could she have forgotten? Had it ever been this powerful before, this hot? Had she ever felt so needy? She was on the verge of flying apart. How was she ever to withstand his full assault?

  Then he took her nipple into his mouth and she cried out at the sheer pleasure. Everything inside her shifted, tightened.

  Grady felt her response, saw it in the flush on her cheeks. Urgency built in him. He forced himself to go slow, when his body urged him to plunge. To take. To make her his once and for all time.

  He teased them both by trailing his mouth to her other breast, tasting it, sucking it, treasuring it. Then he kissed his way down the center of her chest until he reached the bunched fabric of her dress. Greedy now for the rest of her, he moved to her side and pulled the dress all the way off, and with it, the narrow strip of red lace beneath.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “So beautiful.”

  But he wasn’t touching her, and she couldn’t stand it. She wanted his weight on her, his hands. His mouth. His skin. She wanted his skin. With a whimper of protest, she reached for his belt buckle with hands that trembled. “Help me.”

  Her whispered plea sent heat and blood pooling in his loins. Together they stripped him of the rest of his clothes, and her hands were suddenly everywhere. Everywhere but where he wanted them most. And then they were there, stroking him, grasping him, strangling the breath in his lungs.

  “No more,” he begged. He sounded helpless, he knew. And he was. Helpless against wanting her, needing her. Helpless against the sensations, the emotions she brought to life inside of him.

  Condom. Mustn’t forget. He reached for one, tore open the packet, and felt her gaze as if it were her hands while he put it on. Then he was there, cradled in the welcoming warmth of her thighs.

  Slow. Easy. He had to be both or he would hurt her. He would rather die than hurt her. This was her first, he was her first. The very thought humbled him.

  He reached between their bodies and stroked her, drank her moan of pleasure with his mouth. With his hand, he pleasured her the way he used to do on hot summer nights in his pickup, when they had done everything to and with and for each other except the actual joining of their flesh.

  “Remember how it used to be?” he whispered.

  “Was it this good?” she managed.

  “It couldn’t have been. We’d have died of it. Let go, Rach. Look at me and let go, the way you used to.”

  “Grady…”

  He could feel the tension vibrate inside her and echo in his loins. He stroked her again, and her eyes went blank, her neck arched. She cried out.

  Now. Now he would take her, while the pleasure still rode her. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her, deep and hard as he positioned himself and slowly, to cause her the least discomfort possible, eased his way inside. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done as he fought the need to plunge.

  But it was worth it. She was worth anything.

  With small, gentle nudges, he pushed his way inside, rocking, kissing, whispering words of encouragement. She closed around him like a tight, velvet fist, hot and wet, searing him with her heat, pulling him in deeper, deeper, until he felt the barrier.

  “Hold on to me, Rach,” he whispered. “Hold on to me.”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his waist. She felt him there
, where no man had ever been. There was discomfort in the stretching, but there was more—a sense of fullness, of overwhelming emotion that made her eyes sting. He rocked against her, and she rocked back. Then there was a slight tearing sensation that had her sucking in a sharp breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. That’s the worst of it, I promise.”

  “Shh.” She soothed him with her voice, with her hands in his hair. “I’m fine. It’s…I feel you,” she said in wonder. “I feel you inside me. Oh, Grady, it’s…”

  “I know.” And he did. He’d had other women, but this was a first for him, too. For he was joined, flesh inside flesh, with the only woman he’d ever loved. He was, for the first time in his life, fully and completely home.

  Gradually he felt her relax, and then she moved beneath him, and his waiting was over. The flames licked at him, and he welcomed them, let them have their way. Higher, harder, hotter, and Rachel was with him every inch of the way. He felt the pressure of her nails on his back and savored it. He felt her slick heat, her racing heart, her labored breath, and they matched his.

  And then he felt her tense, her inner muscles grip him as she found her release. With one final thrust, he let go and joined her.

  Before she’d even caught her breath, Rachel knew she’d only been fooling herself. She wasn’t willing to accept whatever he might be willing to give her. She wanted it all. She wanted to make love with him like this every night for the rest of her life. She was utterly, completely in love with him. She had told herself that she had survived his betrayal once, she could survive it again if she had to, but she’d been wrong. Holding him close in her arms and feeling his labored breathing, she knew that if he hurt her again, she would die.

  He stirred in her arms. Oh, it was heaven holding him this way, feeling his skin against her skin, his flesh still inside her, his weight anchoring her solidly to him. If only they could stay this close.…

  Grady levered himself onto his forearms and looked down into blue eyes swimming with emotion. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, promises he wanted to make, promises he wanted to hear from her lips. But the words lodged in his throat, and the only thing that came out was, “Are you all right?”