Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9)

by Ann Major

  She wished he did, too. The dark shadow against his cheek and jaw only served to make him seem more masculine.

  “You can have the bathroom now,” he said. When she clung to the bed, frozen, he murmured dryly, “And I always thought females were the fastidious sex.”

  He moved toward her. At the last minute, before he reached her, she scampered lightly past him and slammed the door, having decided to bathe only to avoid being alone with him in the bedroom.

  She lathered her hair. He had switched on the television while he waited for her. Stubbornly she lay in the hot soapy water until it grew cool, until no sound came from the other room. When at last she crept from the bath to the bedroom wearing a thin robe supplied by the motel staff, she stood in the center of it, feeling lost and uncertain, shivering a little from the cold as she studied the black shapes in the darkened room.

  He was in bed with the covers pulled to his waist. His eyes were closed. He could have been asleep, but he was such a devil he was probably only pretending to be. His towel was draped over the chair near the bed.

  What did he have on? The only way to know for sure was to rip his cover off or wake him up to ask him.

  “Jeb?”

  Blasts of frigid air gusted noisily from the air conditioner, and she began to shiver. With her wet hair, she couldn’t very well stand in the middle of the room shivering until he woke up. She tiptoed toward the bed and lifted the spread on her side of the bed. Gingerly she slipped her legs under the sheets.

  His deep voice rumbled across the darkness.

  “Good night, Megan.”

  So he had been awake!

  She lay as rigidly as a post, not answering.

  He grunted, rolled over and made some sound as he adjusted himself beneath the rustling sheets. She felt the mattress dip as he shifted his weight. Beside him, she was a tense ball of nerves, afraid to move, ready to spring from the bed if he made the slightest move toward her.

  Soon she heard the steady rhythm of his breathing. He had fallen asleep. Instantly. As if her presence in his bed didn’t bother him in the least.

  She lay awake, too aware of his clean male scent, too aware of that indolent brown sprawl of muscled arms and legs so near her own beneath the covers. At his slightest movement, she caught her breath.

  Oddly, after a time, his warmth and nearness comforted her, and at last she relaxed and fell asleep, too, though she clung to her edge of the mattress.

  Almost immediately the recurring nightmare she’d had ever since she was five and her mother had run away began.

  Megan was alone in an oak mott, and she, who’d grown up on the wide-open range beneath endless blue skies, was afraid of the thick, gnarled trees with their dark branches that shut out the sun. Her family, who had been with her only moments before, had vanished.

  She began to run, but no matter where she turned, she could not find them.

  “Here,” a voice murmured, and she felt the solid warmth of hard male arms circling her breathless body, holding her close.

  She felt safe, no longer alone, and she snuggled against him, seeking the delicious comfort of his body, nestling her head into the hollow of his throat, wrapping her arms around him, exploring the ripple of his muscles with her fingertips. Never before had her dream taken this pleasant turn.

  A bare masculine arm encircled her waist; warm breathing ruffled the hair at her temple. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she was drawn closer and pressed into a rock-hard chest. Curling black hairs tickled her nose and she sighed blissfully. Closer still, he pulled her, cuddling her hips against his own. He was naked. She felt his manhood, like a branding pulse, fully roused against her thighs.

  As her flesh heated against his, she came awake gradually, not admitting she was awake in the magic of that first drowsily sensual moment, clinging instead to the fantasy until it was too late.

  “Megan,” he murmured.

  It was Jeb holding her, Jeb whom she’d both loved and hated through the years. Jeb who’d always been there. Jeb who’d risked his own life to save her brother.

  She could feel the deep thrust of Jeb’s satirical gaze piercing the darkness, studying her. In that moment he would have stopped had she asked him to.

  But how many times had she awakened, crying in the dark, with no one to hold her? How many times had she dreamed of this? It was too delicious, being held and comforted by him.

  Sighing, she snuggled closer to him. There was more wildness in her than in most other women, a deep, innate sensuality that elevated her body temperature. She met his intense gaze with a brief, silent glance.

  He put one hand on either side of her hot cheeks and turned her face slowly toward his in wonder. Her eyes fluttered open right before he took her mouth with silent, masterful deliberateness, kissing her again and again. His tongue slid inside her mouth. Her breath came shallowly as her own tongue flicked against his.

  His lips slid down her throat, over her body, kissing her everywhere, seeking out all the soft secret places, until she arched her body against his exploring mouth.

  He was darkness and she was darkness, both like figments from her volatile dream, and yet not a dream at all. His mouth came back to her lips. He devoured them, suckled them. She could feel her skin burning, everywhere, from the bristles of his beard, but she welcomed even this tingling awareness of him.

  They kissed and touched until they were consumed in a delirium of passion. Vaguely she knew that it was Jeb who held her, that what was happening was wrong, and yet she knew that there was nothing on earth that could make her stop. She’d nearly died tonight, and so had he. She needed this…this affirmation of life.

  He tore the robe off her completely and pulled her beneath his hard body.

  “You’ll belong to me after this,” he said ruthlessly. “Forever.”

  Her hands circled his neck. She was past caring. “Forever,” she promised, her cheeks flushed, her eyes brilliant and daring.

  “There won’t be any going back.”

  “No... Don’t ever...ever let me go.”

  “Touch me,” he growled. “Hold me.”

  She closed her fingers around him, and she felt his pulsating, driving desire.

  “Tighter!” he said.

  She gasped when his hand closed over hers, pulling her fingers away, easing her thighs apart.

  He came inside her at once, and some part of her knew that she had always belonged to him. Her fingernails dug into his neck, and yet, curiously, she did not hurt him. For both of them there was only a sublime, shattering joy.

  She screamed and every cell in her body exploded.

  Afterward Megan lay in the semidarkness feeling lost and vulnerable and thoroughly shaken. Jeb’s knee remained crooked over her legs. A possessive tanned hand rested indolently on her waist. She wanted to pull away, but she didn’t dare. He would only come after her and demand that she explain herself. And she didn’t want to.

  Her emotions were too new, too raw and agonized. All her life she had longed for love and denied her longing. She had pretended to be proud and tough and independent. She had pretended to hate Jeb long after the hate had died because it was so much easier to hate than to love and be abandoned again.

  She had longed to feel safe and wanted—the way Jeb had made her feel in those brief, shining moments when he’d held her tightly clasped in his arms and made love to her.

  Being with him had been wonderful, something totally outside her experience.

  That was what made it so terrible.

  Even though he had saved Kirk, and she was grateful, Jeb had taken her ranch and driven her father away. Worst of all, Jeb belonged to Janelle. Like everybody else except Kirk, he would abandon her.

  Megan’s heart beat with dull little thuds.

  He had taken her because it was in his nature to rule and dominate. He had to be king of everything he thought belonged to him.

  Jeb was not Megan’s first lover, but he might as well have been. Never had
any man branded her heart and soul as thoroughly as he had.

  But she was nothing to him, and it was killing her. She was only a bit of temporary fun before he settled down with someone more suitable—someone like Janelle.

  Across the tense, silent darkness Jeb reached for her. She could feel his hand as he idly traced his knuckles over her ribs and smoothed a lock of apricot hair on her shoulder.

  “You said you wouldn’t,” she accused angrily.

  “You said you wouldn’t,” he mimicked in an exaggerated version of her horrified tone. He chuckled. “Well, I’m not mad at you for what happened.”

  “You’re not a woman!”

  Again he chuckled. “We’d hardly be lying here like this if I were.”

  “You’re going to marry Janelle.”

  “But I’m in bed with you.” His fingertip brushed her cheek. “Not Janelle.”

  “Don’t rub it in!” Megan bit her lower lip. Her lashes were downcast. “What happened doesn’t have to mean anything. Things can go on between us… like they were before.”

  His eyes grew bleak and cold in the darkness. She could feel the tension in his fingers, tracing soft patterns on her hot skin.

  “Things between us can never be like they were before,” he said grimly.

  He wound his hand in the waves of her fiery hair and pulled her close to him. His mouth crushed down on hers.

  “Because I still want you,” he whispered raggedly against her cheek. “And you still want me.”

  Every muscle in Megan’s body was tensed against him, but her strength was as nothing to his. With his hands he guided her breasts to his mouth, seeking out her nipples and nibbling on them until her tension erupted into unbearable excitement. Her fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, and she pulled his head closer against her burning skin, crying out as he suckled the hot, fleshy tips.

  “All your life you’ve wanted this,” he whispered. “You’ve wanted me, and you’ve wanted to belong to me.”

  “No.”

  He lifted his head. “Yes!” he whispered.

  Breathless for him, she tried to push his lips back down to her tingling flesh.

  “Say yes!” he commanded. His black eyes were as hard and cold as diamonds as he studied her face.

  She hoped her expression didn’t mirror the subtle change of emotion she felt. Megan was afraid. Not of him, but of herself.

  “Say it.”

  “Y-yes.” The word fell hesitantly, softly from her lips.

  Suddenly he wanted to stroke her cheek and tell her that the spell she’d cast over him was more powerful than any hold he could ever have on her. There was something wondrous about her beauty and about the emotion it aroused in him. It was closer to worship than lust.

  He lowered his mouth and tasted her again until she was clinging and biting her lips to suppress her cries, until she could no longer suppress them.

  There was only the ecstasy of his hot body, only her soft, keening cries of rapture.

  There could be no denying that she was his.

  Six

  Sunlight flickered across Megan’s soft pink nipples. She felt the sun’s heat and stirred lazily. Then her big toe struck the warmth of hard thigh muscle.

  “Ouch!’’ came a surprised male yelp.

  The danger of the man standing beside the bed seeped gradually into Megan’s consciousness.

  Jeb had opened the drapes, and harsh, midmorning sunshine flooded into the room from behind him. Slowly her gaze focused on his broad-shouldered figure, her eyes widening with instinctive fear. Elegantly dressed, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, his dark face shadowed, his gaze intent.

  The shock of what had happened last night came back to Megan in a flash. Bright flags of color stained her cheeks. Her heart fluttered warily. Jeb was dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. Mario must have come and brought fresh clothes. Jeb seemed so cool this morning, so controlled, so cockily self-assured.

  Realizing with a start that her nude body was uncovered beneath his avid gaze, Megan felt vulnerable and exposed. There was no way of knowing how long he had been watching her and enjoying her provocative position. As if it were now his right to look at her like that, with a possessive gleam of ownership in his eyes!

  Her fiery hair was spread across the pillow. He leaned forward and gently brushed a finger through it.

  She jerked her head away, but a russet strand snagged around his thumb. His eyes glinted as they ran over her. Flushing scarlet, she drew her legs together and snatched a sheet over her breasts.

  He chuckled. “It’s a little late for modesty.”

  He pulled at the sheet, but she held on to it with equal stubbornness. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Trying to enjoy the best view in town,” he murmured.

  “Any man with an ounce of decency...”

  “Since we both know your low opinion of me, you must be addressing someone else.” With devilish delight he kept pulling.

  “Jeb, please!”

  Her face flamed as the edge of the sheet slid down to her waist. He let go. She felt ridiculously awkward and out of her depth. “I want to get dressed.”

  His lips quirked with amusement. “What a pity.”

  “You’ll have to get up and go outside. Or at least close your eyes,” she said.

  “But I saw it all last night—at a much closer and more delightful range.” He smiled wickedly.

  Her throat constricted. She shut her eyes for a moment, then reopened them. “I—I want to forget last night... and what happened.”

  “Well, I don’t.” His deep voice vibrated through her.

  “None of this bothers you, does it? You’re enjoying yourself.”

  Jeb’s steady gaze met hers. “You’re fun to watch when you sleep—when you’re naked and soft and sweet with your legs all tangled up in mine.”

  “Will you shut up?”

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  “No.”

  “You’ve probably slept with so many women that one more or less is nothing to get excited about, but I’ll have you know sex isn’t just another casual sport for me.”

  “I could tell. You seemed to throw yourself into it with total commitment. You were a most enthusiastic ...er…athlete, and I found the game much more enjoyable than usual. You should take it up full-time.”

  She ground her teeth. “I don’t sleep around.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want any woman of mine to do that. What I was trying to say,” he whispered huskily, “is that you should take it up full-time, but only with me.”

  “Never!”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “While you were asleep I went to the hospital.”

  “You what?”

  “You heard me. Kirk’s conscious. He’s hurting, but that hasn’t changed his disposition. He’s either complaining all the time or flirting with the nurses.”

  “He nearly died last night,” Megan said.

  “Well, he’s very much alive this morning.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  He smiled at her. “Not by much.”

  Megan felt weak with relief. She had forced herself to believe that her brother would live, but now that the danger was past, she realized how terrified she’d been. Her whole body began to shake.

  “Megan, about last night...”

  She shrank beneath the sheets. “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

  “Just tell me this,” Jeb demanded softly. “Do you hate me right now?”

  Her eyes flew guiltily to his. There was a baffling gentleness about him this morning. When she thought of how he’d risked his own life to help her save Kirk, she knew her feelings for him would never again be as simple as the hatred she’d been determined to feel in the past.

  “Hate’s a very strong word,” she admitted shakily. “I feel grateful.”

  Hard black eyes studied the torment etched on her pale face. He gripped her bare arms and pulled her closer agains
t him.

  “That’s a start, at least,” he muttered. The sheet fell away, and when she tried to retrieve it, his grip on her tightened.

  She could feel his heart beginning to pound.

  “Jeb,” she murmured huskily, more seductively than she knew.

  “Damn it. Stop being so stubborn and kiss me good morning,” he said. His gaze strayed to her lips as her tongue nervously moistened them.

  She edged closer until her mouth hovered inches from his. She felt his body tense expectantly.

  Then suddenly she realized what she was doing. More than anything she wanted to taste the salty sweetness of his skin, to know the hot, wet fever of his mouth devouring hers again.

  She placed her fingers on his chest and shoved him away. Megan heard the harsh intake of his breath. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  The sooner she ended this new turn their relationship had taken, the better.

  She rolled away from him, wrapping the sheet around her naked body.

  Swiftly he grabbed a corner of it. “If you try to get up, this is coming off.”

  “Jeb, let go, or at least turn your back so I can get dressed.”

  His eyes were brilliant. Brown fingers twisted the white tail of sheet. “You’ve got to be kidding, honey,” he whispered. “After last night...”

  “Last night changed nothing.”

  “You’re so wrong.” His eyes, dark and unreadable, held hers. “Very wrong. It’s changed everything.”

  He began unwinding the sheet from her lush, honey-gold body. She gave a shriek and tried to jump, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. The sheet fell away.

  His hands pressed her slim shoulders back, deep into the mattress. She struggled, kicking, fighting, twisting until she was out of breath. Then he fell on top of her, his own body hard and heavy, his breath coming fast. She felt his hands slide to her breasts and cup them.

  His mouth covered hers, tasting her and then devouring her with a greedy passion. Megan opened her mouth.

  “Megan. Megan.”

  Her name was a hot torrid whisper against the pounding pulse beat of her throat.

  She was aching for him.

  She couldn’t let him do this. The arousal she felt was more than passion, more than simple desire. Every time he touched her, the emotion seemed to feed on itself and grow. If she gave herself to him again, it would not stop her from wanting him but would tempt her all the more.