When his hot gaze met hers again, she slid her hands into his hair and pressed the full length of her body against his, so her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest. She lifted her mouth and found his, her tongue urgent in its quest to be inside tasting him, joining his in a search for mutual pleasure.
Drew surprised her when he picked her up in his arms. She stared at him, her heart beating frantically, her breath coming in short bursts, her body flushed and pulsing with desire.
He headed for his bedroom without a word. He set her on her feet beside the bed and said, “I want to undress you.”
“Fine. As long as I’m allowed to return the favor.”
She was wearing layers for the trip up the canyon, so when Drew tugged her sweater off over her head, he found a wool shirt. She was surprised how slowly he unbuttoned her shirt and tugged the tails out of her jeans, especially considering that all he could see beneath it was her long johns. He smiled as he tossed her shirt onto a nearby chair.
She could feel his callused fingertips against her skin as he freed the long john shirt from her trousers and eased it up over her head, leaving her wearing only a bra. And not a very fancy bra, at that. Women who’d been married a long time wore functional, rather than sexy, underwear. And Sarah, who hadn’t had a man in the house for a year, had allowed her underwear to get woefully shabby.
She put her hands over her worn-out bra and said, “This should have gone into the trash a long time ago.”
Drew smiled and said, “Fine by me.” He reached up to unhook her bra, forcing her hands away from her chest, then pulled the straps off her shoulders before tossing the frayed lingerie into the trash can across the room.
Sarah laughed. “I’m going to need that later.”
“You can pick up another one at home.” Drew unbuckled her belt and pulled it through the loops slowly and sensuously, then dropped it onto the floor.
He unsnapped her jeans and was reaching for the zipper when she caught his wrist and said, “My turn.”
She kept her eyes on his as she unbuttoned his plaid wool shirt and pulled it down his arms. When it wouldn’t come off, she realized his hands were too big for the shirt to come off unless she undid the buttons at the wrist. And then realized that with the shirt binding his hands, he was essentially her prisoner, to do with as she wished.
She left his hands bound as she shoved his long john shirt up high enough to expose most of his chest. She kissed his navel, and he hissed and sucked in his stomach. She chuckled and kissed her way up to his nipples, first teasing them with her tongue and then nipping, until Drew hissed and jerked back a step and began struggling to get his hands free.
“Uh uh,” Sarah said. “It’s still my turn.”
She unbuckled his belt and didn’t bother pulling it from his jeans before she unzipped them and slid her hand inside his underwear to cup his warm, hard and silky flesh.
Drew froze and stared down at her. A moment later, his mouth was latched to hers, his tongue thrusting deep, mimicking the sex act. She heard a button pop, and one of his hands was free, and then cloth ripping as he tore his shirt off and pitched it across the room.
Then his hands were on her breasts, his thumbs brushing the nipples, causing them to harden and peak, his mouth hot on hers, demanding equal passion, his body pressed hard against her hand, seeking the pleasure she offered.
“I want to be inside you,” he said in a throaty growl, shoving at her jeans, long johns and underwear, trying to get her naked.
She let go of him to help him pull at her clothes, then stopped and said, “Boots! Boots!” when she realized her clothes wouldn’t come off over her winter boots.
He tipped her onto her fanny on the bed and went to work on her laces, as she shimmied out of her clothes, so that by the time he was done and had her boots and socks off, he could pull the rest of her clothes off over her pointed toes.
“Sit,” she said, standing up and pushing him down onto the bed. She knelt at his feet naked and went to work on his shoelaces while his hands played with her breasts.
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he said. “I’m dying out here. Hurry up. I want to be inside you.”
She moaned as her body began to ache with need.
She yanked his boots off and tossed them, pulling on his socks as he shoved the rest of his clothes off. Then he lifted her up and impaled her as she dropped down onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.
Her arms went round his neck and she latched onto his shoulder with her mouth, as they moved together desperately, seeking release.
“Sarah,” he breathed, his mouth seeking hers. “Sarah, I want you. I need you.”
Sarah realized she was waiting for more, for Drew to say I love you.
But the words never came. At least, not before the two of them did.
Sarah’s climax was shattering, more so because the lack of special words being spoken by Drew should have made the sex act less intense, should have kept her from giving everything she had to give.
Drew clutched her tightly as he spilled himself inside her, his face pressed against her breast, his body rigid in exultation.
They were both breathing hard, and the smell of sweat and sex was strong in the warm room.
Sarah waited for the moment when Drew would separate them, and she would have to look into his eyes and see that what they had done was not as special for him as it had been for her. That he did not feel for her what she was coming to realize she felt for him.
She brushed aside the sweaty curls from his brow and kissed him gently there, tasting the salt, before she laid her cheek on his shoulder.
His hands were roaming her back, soothing, loving.
Sarah realized she shouldn’t have used that word, loving. Drew didn’t love her. He’d said he wanted and needed her. Both were important, but they weren’t love.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” Sarah said, as she tried to disengage herself from Drew.
He caught her at the waist with both hands and kept her from moving. She could feel him stirring inside her and her eyes widened.
“Did you think we were done?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, yes,” she admitted with a shy smile.
He leaned her backward and lowered his mouth and put his lips to her breast and suckled.
Sarah gasped as an aching need built inside her. “How do you do that to me?” she asked breathlessly. “I want you again.”
He lifted his head, grinned at her and said, “Good. Because you’ve got me.”
He lay back on the bed, and she lowered her body over his. He reached up and freed her hair from its French braid and slid his hands into it. “Your hair’s so silky,” he said.
She lowered her head, letting her hair flow across his body, as she found his mouth with hers.
The lovemaking was slower this time, each searching out places on the other’s body to kiss, moving as one, rolling so she was beneath him. He slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her as he began once more to thrust.
“You’re beautiful, Sarah,” he said.
Sarah barely managed to keep from blurting, “Haven’t you seen all those silver stretch marks?” Instead, she grinned, arched her body into his, and replied, “I love it when you say things like that.”
His hands played with her hair, and his mouth tantalized her body, as he moved first with grace and then with urgency.
Sarah cried out as her body began to spasm with almost unbearable pleasure, and she heard Drew’s guttural response as he spilled himself inside her.
He kept most of his weight on his arms, but she’d wrapped her legs around him and they lay that way until their breathing slowed. Drew slid to his side and pulled her close, his chin resting against her brow.
“I don’t want to get up,” Sarah said.
“Then don’t,” Drew murmured.
“I should call and check on my kids.”
“
They’re supposed to be tucked in safe at home.”
“Yes, but knowing my kids, it never hurts to check.”
Sarah pressed her nose against Drew’s flesh and inhaled the man-scent of him. Her eyes felt heavy and she let them slide closed as she snuggled against him.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” she mumbled.
Drew didn’t answer, and Sarah realized from his deep, even breathing, it was because he was already asleep. She relaxed against him, liking the way the coarse hair on his chest tickled her nose. She laid her hand on his chest, then laid her cheek against her hand. She was warm and comfortable and happy.
She decided it wouldn’t hurt just to rest a little while until the storm passed them by. She could check on her kids before she and Drew headed up the canyon.
Drew never slept long after sex because he was used to having to get up and leave whatever bed he was in. He froze when he realized Sarah was still snuggled up next to him. It was her hair tickling his nose that had woken him.
He wondered if he should wake her, but one glance toward the window confirmed that the storm was still blowing. He took advantage of the opportunity to look his fill.
Sarah’s body was long and sleek, and her golden brown hair teasingly hid breasts he’d discovered were just the right size to fit his hands. Tiny lines of worry had etched their way onto her brow. She was lucky they weren’t much deeper, he thought wryly, considering the bucketful of responsibility—and the occasional wild escapade—her kids must provide.
What dawned on Drew, as he lay beside her waiting for the storm to abate, was how anxious he felt himself about Nate and Brooke and Ryan being home alone right now. They were probably just fine. But his stomach was knotted with worry.
Over kids he hadn’t even known forty-eight hours ago. Over kids that had mostly been a pain in the ass. Over kids that he realized he cared about in a way he’d sworn to himself that he’d never allow himself to care.
The same way he cared for Sarah.
Her anguish made his heart hurt. Her terror made him want to protect her. His arm tightened convulsively around her, and Sarah protested with a grunt before her eyes blinked open.
“Sorry,” he said, easing his hold on her.
When she lifted her head to look out the window he said, “Still blizzarding out there.”
She laid her head back on his shoulder trustingly, eased one leg over his hip to put them body to body and murmured, “Hmmm. You feel good.”
“So do you,” he said.
Drew couldn’t remember ever making love to a woman when the act hadn’t been preceded by recognizable physical desire. But making love to Sarah this time was motivated by something entirely different. He was afraid to name it even to himself. Offering comfort was a safer word than the truth.
Yet, in the beginning, comfort was all there was.
He held Sarah snug in his arms, feeling the warmth of her, wishing he could lift some of the heavy burdens she carried from her slender shoulders. He hadn’t expected her to press her hips against his and whisper, “Make love to me, Drew.” He hadn’t expected his own response.
He’d taken her face in both hands, looked into her eyes and seen the desperate need to be connected intimately, completely, to another human being. He’d answered her plea by giving everything he had to her. His heart. His body. And his soul. Oh, yes, his soul.
Drew hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so deeply, so completely, in such a short time. He had no idea how it had happened. He only knew it had.
Loving Sarah was terrifying because of the promises he’d made to himself that he would need to break in order to keep her in his life.
I will never have children.
I will never love a woman who can break my heart.
Loving Sarah meant taking the risk of being a parent to her children. Present tense. It wasn’t even a question of having children of his own someday in the future. There was nothing future about it, because Nate and Brooke and Ryan already existed.
At which point, a startling thought lodged like a painful fishhook in his gut. If he was going to break his vow by parenting Sarah’s children, why not go all the way? Why not have a child—or two or three—with Sarah?
Which brought him to the second vow he’d made.
For a woman to break his heart, he would have to love her. And she would have to betray him.
He’d never doubted his ability to love. Just as he’d never doubted that eventual betrayal. It had happened with every woman he’d ever known and loved, especially those closest to him, most notably, his stepgrandmother, and most recently, the woman he’d left behind in Houston, Grayson Choate.
Drew had guarded his heart as much as he could. But whenever he’d given it, as he inevitably had, he’d been disappointed. How could he expect things to be any different with Sarah Barndollar?
Drew was jolted by another thought. He knew he loved Sarah, but he had no idea how she felt about him. She’d only recently found out she was a widow. It was wishful thinking to believe she could have been as smitten with him over the past forty-eight hours as he had been by her.
He found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to live here with her. To wake up with her soft, warm body next to his, to get dressed together and make breakfast together.
He stopped himself right there.
He needed to add three loud, quarrelsome and intrusive kids to the picture.
As much as Drew tried to make the image unpleasant, it wasn’t. Maybe he was being naive. Probably he was being naive. But he’d liked having siblings. He’d liked the noise and the laughter—for as long as it had lasted. But it never lasted long.
Drew had learned not to believe in happily-ever-after. He’d learned not to trust. It was hard to hope, when his hopes had been dashed so ruthlessly in the past. It would be far safer to walk away and never look back. Now. While he still could.
Sarah drifted in and out of sleep, aware of something niggling at her, something that wouldn’t let her completely relax. When Drew’s phone rang, she sat bolt upright.
“What time is it?” Drew said, rolling over onto his back and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Sarah’s glance jumped to the window, and she was forced to squint against the bright sunshine. “The storm is over.” She looked at the digital clock beside Drew’s bed and said, “It’s a little after one o’clock.” And then, staring at the ringing phone, “Are you going to get that?”
Drew reached across the bed and picked up the receiver. “Who’s calling?” he asked irritably.
Sarah snatched her trousers from the floor and searched the pockets for her cell phone, looking to see if the kids had called. They hadn’t. She hit the button to call home and waited while the phone rang and rang until the answering machine picked up.
“If you’re there, pick up,” she said. She waited, but the phone remained unanswered. Then she called the cell phone Brooke carried when the kids left the house. All she got was voice mail. “Where are you guys?” she said. “I’m on my way home. If you get this message, meet me there. I’m going to want a damned good explanation why you disobeyed me and left the house.”
Drew appeared before her wearing unsnapped jeans and scratching his belly. “You’ll never guess who that was,” he said.
“I hope it was my kids. They haven’t called me and they aren’t at home,” Sarah said. “If they went out in this storm—”
“Hey, calm down,” Drew said, trying to pull her into his arms.
Sarah batted his hands away. “My kids are gone. I’m not in the mood for sex.”
A flicker of hurt darted in Drew’s blue eyes and Sarah realized she’d mistaken his offer of comfort for something else. “I’m sorry.” She rose and slid her arms around Drew’s waist to hug him, then leaned back and looked up into his eyes. “I know I’m acting like an idiot, but after the stunt they pulled last night, I’m a little skittish.”
“Maybe they went to a friend’s house,”
Drew said.
“I’ll feel better when I know they’re all right,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“Forget it,” Drew said, returning her hug.
“Who was that on the phone?” she asked.
“Clay.”
“Do you need to go down to the jail?”
Drew grinned. “It seems the judge had a change of heart. Clay’s out on bail.”
“That’s amazing!” Sarah said.
“Yeah, amazing what two powerful old men can accomplish when they join forces,” Drew said cynically. “What’s even more interesting is that Clay got the same anonymous call you did—about where to find Kate. He said he had to threaten to tie Libby to a chair to keep her from going after Kate in the storm.”
“I suppose we can all go together now,” Sarah said.
“I’ve got a meeting to go to first.”
Sarah raised a questioning brow. “What’s up?”
“King and Blackjack are planning to confront Niles Taylor,” Drew explained. “Clay invited me to be there when they ask him some pointed questions.”
“What about rescuing Kate? Shouldn’t that take precedence?”
“Clay seems to think he’ll get more precise information about where Kate is from Niles.”
“In that case, I’d like to be there, too,” Sarah said.
“Don’t you have to check on your kids?”
“We can do that on the way.”
“You weren’t invited to this party, Sarah.”
“So I’ll show up uninvited.” When Drew’s face remained implacable, Sarah said, “Niles Taylor may have arranged my husband’s murder, Drew. I want to be there. I just need to check on my kids first and make sure they’re all right.”
“Fine. I’ll come with you.”
Sarah opened her mouth to tell Drew she could meet him later and closed it again. She might very well need his help if it turned out the kids had run her pickup into a snowy ditch somewhere. “Thanks,” she said.
Sarah felt a strange lethargy, an unwillingness to let go of Drew and finish dressing. It felt wonderful to be held in a man’s arms, to acknowledge his strength and know he was there to support and comfort her. She’d learned enough about Drew DeWitt in the short time they’d been acquainted to understand why he might want to keep their relationship strictly casual, which is to say, sexual.
The Rivals Page 27
