What was I supposed to say? "It was a long time ago, Memphis," I began slowly. "At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, staying out of the way, keeping a low profile, and over the years, it just became easier and I—"
She shook her head. "Well I'm glad it became easier for you, because it certainly hasn't been easy for anyone here. You wanted to know why I agreed to keep Frank's secret regarding the status of the ranch, and maybe now you understand a little more. Your mom was already going through enough, and she's not a spring chicken anymore. Everyone around here does their best to keep her stress levels down for her health—"
I broke in. "Is she sick?"
Memphis close her eyes and sighed. "No, she's not sick, at least I don't think she is. But she is getting a little more forgetful, and it doesn't take much to get her stressed out and anxious anymore, and I'm sure you've seen that. Everyone bends over backwards to make sure that your mom has a calm environment. Why? Because we all love her. Because we all care. Because we don't want to make her life any more difficult than it has to be. And now that Frank has passed, I'm afraid that your mom's going to experience some difficulties in accepting that loss, as well as the loss of any sense of stability she's had in the past."
I frowned. Sure, who wouldn't worry about one's mother after her spouse passed away, especially after such a long relationship? However, my mom was no weak-kneed ninny. She was strong, physically and emotionally. During my years growing up I had seen her help brand the cattle, drive a truck filled with hay bales for the horses and the cows in the middle of a winter blizzard, and stand toe-to-toe with any number of individuals who gave her grief.
“I have to go—“
She turned to walk away but I stopped her. "Regardless of what you may think, Memphis, I do love my family. Why do you think I came back—?" She turned and glared up at me, hands on her hips.
"Tell me, Donovan, exactly why did you come back?” she demanded. “Why did it have to take a death to bring you back after all these years?"
The words erupted from me before I could stop them. "Because it would have been too damn hard to leave if I had come back before!"
"What—"
"You weren’t the only one that hurt after I left," I said, my voice low with emotion as I towered over her. She stared up at me with wide-eyed surprise. "It was hard to leave, to leave you behind. I missed my family. I missed you every day. My heart ached for you, every day. But don't you understand? I had to leave! I had to at least try, and then—"
"And then, you just turned and walked away. For years, no word from you! You just erased us! Forgot about your family, your—" She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Stomping down the steps to the parking lot, she walked away. Her back stiff, her steps sure, she made her way toward her pickup truck, not far from mine. Frustrated, I walked after her. Catching up with her halfway across the dirt parking lot, I reached out and grabbed her arm. I spun her toward me, her mouth open with protest as I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss.
Chapter 10
Memphis
I resisted, but only for a second. Everything flew out of my mind as his lips touched mine. I forgot about the past, the pain, and the anger and reveled in the warmth of his lips on mine. Of their own volition, my arms wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him closer. His hands grasped my shoulders and held me tight. I hated to admit it, but at that moment I felt safer than I had felt in years. Anchored. Donovan had always been my anchor, and since he left I’d been adrift, always looking for something that I knew I would never find in any other man.
He lifted his head and gazed down at me and I saw the heat in his gaze, the pulse pounding in his throat, a glimpse of his own pain. I moaned and leaned my head against his chest, listening to the thudding of his heartbeat beneath my ear. He made a low sound in his throat, and then grasped my arm and guided me toward his truck. To my surprise, he stopped near the bed. I started to ask a question, but then he grasped me around the waist and lifted me upward. I felt his bulging biceps as he helped me into the bed of the truck, and then he climbed in after me.
What was he doing? Why did he—
“Lie down,” he whispered, a wicked grin on his lips.
I don’t know why I followed his directions, but I did. I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted him to touch me, to make love to me. So what if I was in the bed of his old beat up F250. No one could see us if we laid down. Still, a part of my good sense yelled at me that we were in the parking lot of the Chit Chat, that at any moment we could be spotted. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about repercussions. I didn’t care about anything at this moment than getting as close to his heat as I possibly could.
The nighttime air was cool against my face as I lay on my back, Donovan quickly laid down beside me. Neither one of us said anything. For now, the closeness was enough. His heat and harsh breathing was enough. God, how I had missed him. It literally took my breath away.
I tried to prepare myself for the feel of his touch, my body aching for the familiarity while at the same time wondering what it would be like. Unable to halt the momentum of anticipation of my own desire, I slipped my hands under his shirt, amazed as always at how warm and solid he felt. Tugging at my own shirt, I didn't have to be told what to do, as Donovan silently kissed me. Then, one button at a time, he unbuttoned my flannel shirt. He grasped at the bottom of my tee-shirt and peeled it upward, up over my breasts. My flesh tingled with the kiss of warm air against my bare skin. For a moment, I realized that the bed of the pickup truck was softer than I would've thought, and then saw that the truck liner beneath had smoothed out all the bumps and ridges of the truck bed. Moments later, I had shoved Donovan’s tee shirt upward as well and reveled at the difference. His skin, tan, smooth, and rock hard, mine nearly alabaster white where my skin rarely saw the light of day.
I sucked in my breath at the look in his eyes as he swept his gaze from my face to my breasts, his eyes heavy with desire and both of us now heaving with excitement. His left hand followed his eyes, touched what his eyes gazed upon. I reveled at the solid weight of his fingers as they caressed and gently squeezed my right breast through my bra, and then traced lightly down my side, causing my abdominal muscles to tense as he stroked my skin. I remembered his touch, his caresses, and the thrill that only his touch had ever invoked in me.
He made a noise low in his throat, and the timbre of that noise made me shiver. His rock hard muscles pressed against the softness of my breasts and stomach, and I felt his burgeoning erection against my groin.
"I haven't forgotten how good you feel," he breathed.
He leaned closer to nuzzle his lips against the base of my ear. He kissed me slowly, his lips making his way down my throat to the swell of my breasts. Before I knew it, I was gasping his name, my breasts anticipating not only the touch of his hand, but the anticipation of his lips caressing and suckling my nipples.
I relaxed completely, feeling more at home now than I had felt in years. I lay on my back, he on his side, his right arm cushioning my head from the bed of the truck while his other roamed freely over my body. Everywhere his hand touched, my body responded. He teased every inch of my breasts, my skin burning with an increasing heat and hunger that took my breath away. Finally, he unhooked my bra from the clasp at the front and my breasts bounced free. I instinctively arched my back, offering their tight, desire-filled peaks in invitation toward the warmth of his mouth. He obliged. His lips and tongue caressed one breast, and then the other, lapping and circling with his tongue as if he were eating an ice cream cone. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, his hand moved downward toward my thighs, first caressing them through my jeans, and then, impatiently, we both scrambled to unbutton buttons and unzip zippers. He eased his hand down into my pants, provoking and teasing every nerve in my body, which hadn't felt this way in years. I was aware of everything, and the hunger within me continued to grow, flair, and beg for release. T
hough my left hand was trapped under his right hip, my right hand was free, and I stroked his body with much the same passion in which he stroked mine. My hand inched its way inside his jeans and felt his erection. He groaned softly as I grasped his warm, throbbing hardness, and then my fingers carefully edged lower to cradle his balls. I squeezed gently, then returned to stroking his dick, which grew even harder with each stroke.
By now we'd both grown a bit frantic with desire, and of one accord, we maneuvered the jeans down far enough to provide greater access. In another moment, he lay on top of me, breathing heavily as his lips once again returned to mine. His tongue swept the inside of my mouth as our tongues tangled with each other, both of us uttering soft moans as our passion grew.
His hand stroked the apex of my thighs, his thumb gently swirling through my dark curls as his other fingers probed, pressed, and dipped ever lower. I soon grew wet with desire. He continued to probe with his fingers until my body pulsed with anticipation. Finally, placing one arm around my waist, he maneuvered himself between my knees and then entered. I sucked in my breath at the feel of him delving deep inside me. I hadn't realized until this very moment how completely and utterly I belonged to Donovan. At this moment, I knew that I would never be happy in the arms of any other man. For the briefest of moments, I felt an overwhelming sadness surge through me.
For now however, I was going to enjoy the moment, his touch, and the sensational feelings coursing through me. With his legs nestled within mine, his arms curled beneath me to bear his weight, his torso in close contact with mine. He thrust, filling me up as completely as I remembered. He slowly withdrew and I maneuvered my hips upward, urging him back again. Finally, after several slow and teasing strokes, he settled into a steady rhythm, while with each thrust my senses were filled with nothing but sensations. Our breathing grew ragged and I felt my body grow enflamed beyond belief as his thrusts increased in power as well as tempo.
It was easy to find our rhythm and I moved my hips in conjunction with his, both of us so familiar with each other that we had not forgotten how to join as one. I moved with him, giving as well as taking, wanting more. Through his movements, I could tell he felt much the same. Then, with a shudder, I reached my peak and a white haze filled my mind as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure nearly caused me to scream. His grip on my shoulders tightened, and I wrapped my arms around his hips, locking him even closer, tighter against me as he reached his own orgasm. We rode the waves together until the pleasure-filled contractions reached a crescendo and then slowly ebbed, both of us gasping and shuddering.
His lips found mine one more time and I responded with the same passion. My shirt and bra were pushed up over my breasts, his hand back to cupping one and gently stroking and teasing my nipple. We lay there for several moments, both of us breathing hard, when suddenly I stiffened. The sounds of rocks crackling underneath footsteps were getting closer and closer.
"What is it?" he asked, lifting his head.
“Shhhh!” I hissed. “Someone's coming!"
I had barely managed to yank my shirt down as Donovan adjusted his position so that no one could see that my pants were shoved down around my ass. Still, no one could mistake what we were doing, still locked in a passionate embrace. The footsteps grew louder and I realized that someone was heading toward the truck. I froze and caught my breath, not sure what to do.
"Don't move," Donovan whispered.
I hadn't intended to, but in the several seconds that had passed, he had done his best to make sure I wasn't too outrageously exposed. Suddenly, I saw a person approaching the back of Donovan's truck, and though it was a high bed, I recognized Violet. Unfortunately, she was quite a tall girl and would have no trouble seeing into the bed of Donovan's vehicle if she happened to glance this way— she did. I would've laughed at the expression on her face if I hadn't felt so horrified.
Violet stopped stock still, her mouth dropping open as she recognized me, in the bed of the truck, disheveled and obviously wrapped passionately in Donovan’s arms. While Violet had worked at the restaurant for only a couple of years, we weren't that close, and she would certainly have had no idea who Donovan was. Her mouth closed and then she suddenly burst out in laughter, shaking her head as she continued past the bed of the truck toward her own vehicle.
"Jarrod’s not going to be happy with you, Memphis," she commented as she disappeared.
Several moments later, I heard the sound of her unlocking her car door, opening it, getting in, and then the car door slamming. While my heart continued to pound and I scrambled to pull my pants back up around my waist, I heard the car start. Moments later she pulled out of the parking lot, gravel crunching under her tires. "Shit," I muttered, quickly trying to assemble my clothing back where it belonged.
Donovan did the same, and then, without letting me up, leaned over me. “What was that all about?" he asked. "Jarrod?”
I shook my head. "What does it matter?"
"Because," he said. "Who's Jarrod?"
"None of your business," I snapped, regretting not only my attitude, but in allowing myself to succumb to Donovan's charms so easily.
"Memphis, considering what just happened, I think I might have a right to know—"
"You don't need to worry about it," I disagreed. "You'll be gone in a few days anyway, and probably won't be back again, so it just doesn't matter."
With that, I sat up, and he let me. I quickly scrambled out of the back of the truck and stomped off toward my own car, wondering who I was angrier at – him or myself. Nothing like a wham, bam, thank you ma'am after eight long years to shake my senses loose. Then again, I guess it really didn't matter. As quickly as he had blown into town, it was just as likely that Donovan would blow out, and I'd never see him again. Nope, didn't make a big difference at all. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that, I knew I was only fooling myself.
Book 2 Comes Out February 18th
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Vanessa Stone
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