by Linda Howard
She blinked. The biscuits were a golden brown, perfectly risen. She had a good hand with biscuits, or so Pops had always said. She took a deep breath and, using a dish cloth, took the hot pan out of the oven and set it on a cooling rack.
“Why does Vargas think you’re a witch?”
That brought her to earth with a thud. The change in his tone was subtle, but there: He was the sheriff, and he wanted to know if anyone in his county was practicing witchcraft.
“Several reasons, I suppose.” She turned to face him, her expression cool and unreadable. “I live alone out in the woods, I seldom go into town, I don’t socialize. The witch rumor started when I was in fourth grade, I think.”
“Fourth grade, huh?” He leaned against the cabinet, blue gaze sharp on her face. “I guess he’d been watching too many Bewitched reruns.”
She lifted one eyebrow and waited.
“So you don’t cast spells, or dance naked in the moonlight, or anything like that?”
“I’m not a witch,” she said plainly. “I’ve never cast a spell, though I might dance naked in the moonlight, if the notion took me.”
“Do tell.” The gaze warmed, and moved slowly down her body. “Call me if you need a dancing partner. ”
“I’ll do that.”
He looked up, met her eyes, and as simply as that, there was no longer any need for caution.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, moving closer, stroking one finger up her bare arm.
“No.”
“So the biscuits and beef stew can wait?”
“They can.”
He took the dishcloth and set the pan of stew off the eye. “Will you go to bed with me, then, Lilah Jones?”
“I Will.”
6
Lilah lit the lamp in her bedroom and turned it low. The storm and heavy rain made the room as dark as night, lit briefly by the flashes of lightning. Jackson seemed to fill the small room, his shoulders throwing a huge shadow over the wall. His aura, visible even in the low light, pulsated with that deep, clear red again, the color of passion and sensuality.
He began unbuttoning his shirt, and she turned back the bedcovers, neatly folding the quilt and plumping the pillows. Her bed looked small, she thought, though it was a double. It was certainly too small for him. Perhaps she should see about getting a larger one, though she wasn’t certain how long he would use hers. That was the problem with the flashes of precognition; they told her facts, but not circumstances. She knew only that Jackson would be her lover, and her love. She had no idea if he would love her in return, if they would be together forever or only this one time.
“You look nervous.” Despite the sharpness of his desire, which she could plainly see, his voice was quiet. His shirt was unbuttoned but he hadn’t yet removed it. Instead he was watching her, his cop’s eyes seeing too much.
“I am,” she admitted.
“If you don’t want to do this, just say so. No hard feelings—well, except for one place,” he said wryly.
“I do want to do this. That’s why I’m nervous.” Looking him in the eye, she unfastened her shorts and let them drop, then began unbuttoning her shirt. “I’ve never been so … attracted to anyone before. I’m always cautious, but—” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be cautious with you.”
He shrugged the shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Lamplight gleamed on his shoulders, delineating the smooth, powerful muscles, and the broad chest shadowed with dark hair. Lilah inhaled deeply through her nose, feeling the warmth of arousal spread through her. She forgot what she was doing, just stood there looking at him, greedily drinking in the sight of her man undressing.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to pull off his boots. Now she could admire the deep furrow of his spine, the rippling muscles in his back. Her heartbeat picked up in speed, and she got even warmer.
The boots thunked on the wooden floor. He stood and unfastened his pants, let them drop, and pushed down his shorts. Totally naked, he stepped out of the circle of clothing and turned to face her.
Oh, my.
She must have said the words aloud, breathing them in hunger and lust and maybe even some bit of fear, because he laughed as he came to her, brushing aside her stalled hands and finishing the job of unbuttoning her shirt. He put his hands inside the shirt and smoothed them over her shoulders and down her arms, slipping the shirt off so easily she scarcely knew when it left. She wasn’t paying attention to her clothing anyway, only to the jutting penis that brushed her belly when he moved.
She wrapped her hands around it, lightly stroking, exploring, delighting in the heat and hardness and textures, so different from her own body. Now it was he who sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as he stilled for a moment. Then he moved even closer, pushing his hands inside her panties and gripping the globes of her bottom as he pulled her to him. She had to release his penis and she made a sound of… disappointment? Impatience? Both. But there was reward in the pressure of his hard, hairy chest on her breasts, in the rasping sensation to her nipples. Her entire body seemed to go boneless, melting into him, curving to fit his contours.
His breathing was ragged. “Let’s get you naked so I can look at you,” he muttered, releasing her bottom long enough to push her panties down her thighs. She wiggled until they dropped to her feet, and his breathing caught on a groan.
“God! You’re a natural-born tease, aren’t you?” He pulled her up on her toes, welding her to him.
“Am I?” She had never thought about teasing a man before, never wanted to; but if what she was doing was teasing him, then that was only fair, because she was driving herself crazy, too. The feel of their bare bodies brushing together was so delicious she wanted to moan. She kept moving against him, rubbing her nipples against his chest and turning them into hard, aching peaks.
He stroked his hands over her bottom and back, his hands so hot and rough she wanted to purr. Then one hand went lower, curving under her bottom, and his fingers dipped between her legs. She gasped, arching into him as an almost electric sensation sparked through her. One finger explored deeper, slipping a little way into her. A soft, wild noise erupted from her throat, and she all but climbed him, one leg wrapping around him as she levered herself up so he could have better access.
Panting, she buried her face in his throat, clinging for dear life while she waited in agony for him to deepen the caress. Slowly, so slowly, that big finger pressed deeper and she rocked under the impact. That wild little noise sounded again, and her hips surged, trying to take more of his finger. Pleasure and tension coiled in her, tighter and tighter, until it was pain and something more, something beyond anything she had imagined.
“Not yet,” he said urgently. “Don’t come yet.” He turned and half-fell with her onto the bed, cradling her against the full impact of his weight as he landed on top of her. With a twist of his hips he settled between her thighs, and his erection prodded at her folds, briefly seeking her entrance before finding it and pressing inward. Her entire body contracted, tightening around that thick intrusion, though she couldn’t tell whether her body’s reaction was in welcome or an effort to limit the depth of his penetration.
His hips recoiled, his buttocks tightened, and he pushed deeper, deeper, until her inner resistance was gone and in one long slide he was all the way inside her.
She would have screamed, but her lungs were compressed with shock and she could barely breathe, much less scream. Her vision blurred and darkened. She hadn’t realized…. His penis felt almost unbearably hot inside her, burning and stretching her. She ached deep inside, where he was.
He lifted up on his elbows, panting, the expression in his blue eyes both incredulous and ferociously intent. “Lilah … God, I can’t believe this—Are you a virgin?”
“Not now.” Desperately she clutched his buttocks, her back arching as she tried to take him deeper. “Please. Oh, God, Jackson, please!” She bucked her hips at him, her head thrown back as she wrestled w
ith the almost savage pleasure that held her on the edge of release. He was still hurting her, but her entire body was throbbing with a need that overrode any pain. She wanted him deep, she wanted him hard, she wanted him to pound into her and hurl her over that edge.
He gave in to her sensual imploring. “Shhh,” he soothed, though his voice was rough with his own need. “Easy, darlin’. Let me help …” He reached between their bodies, his callused fingertips finding the bud of her clitoris and gently pinching it up. Again and again he squeezed it, catching it between two of his fingers, and with a sharp cry she imploded, her body twisting and heaving in the paroxysm of climax.
A harsh sound tore from his throat. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her buttocks, and thrust hard, driving into her so fiercely the bed thudded against the wall. He climaxed convulsively, grinding down on her for long seconds before collapsing, shaking, on top of her.
She wrapped her arms around his sweaty shoulders and held on tight, partly to comfort him in the aftermath and partly to anchor herself. She felt as if she would fly into a hundred pieces if she let him go. Tears burned her eyelids, though she didn’t know why. Her heart still galloped in a mad race to nowhere and her thoughts swam, a kaleidoscope of impressions and wishes and disbelief.
She hadn’t known making love would be so hot, so uncontrolled. She had expected something slow and sweet, building to ecstasy, not that headlong dash into the fire.
His heart pounded against her breast, gradually slowing, as did his breathing. His weight crushed her into the mattress. Her thighs were still spread to accommodate him, and he was still inside her, though smaller and softer now.
Now that the storm within was over, she became aware again of the storm without. Lightning cracked so close by that the thunder rattled the entire house, and rain drummed on the roof, but that was nothing compared to what had just gone on in her bed. Storms came and went, but her entire life had just been changed.
Finally he lifted his head. His dark hair was matted with sweat, his expression strained and empty, the expression of release. “Okay.” His voice sounded rusty, as if his vocal cords didn’t want to work. “When you said ‘not now,’ did you mean that you didn’t want to talk, or that you had been a virgin until then, but now you weren’t?”
She cleared her throat. “The second choice.” Her own voice sounded rusty, too.
“Holy hell.” He let his head drop again. “I never expected—Damn it, Lilah, that’s something you should tell a man.”
She moved her hands over his shoulders, closing her eyes in delight at the feel of his warm, sleek skin under her palms. “Things happened kind of fast. I didn’t have a lot of time to consider the shoulds and should nots.”
“There are no should nots, in this case.”
“What would you have done differently, if you’d known?”
He considered that, and sighed against her shoulder. “Hell, probably nothing. There’s no way in hell I would have stopped. But if I’d known, I’d have tried to slow things down, and given you more time.”
“I couldn’t have stood it,” she said starkly. “Not one minute more.”
“Yes you could. You will. And you’ll like it.”
If that was a threat, it failed miserably. A tingle of excitement shot through her, sending a spark of life into her exhausted muscles. She wiggled a little. “When?”
“God,” he muttered. “Not right this minute. Give me an hour.” “Okay, an hour.”
His head came up again and he gave her a long, level look. “Before we get carried away again, don’t you think we need to talk about birth control? Specifically, our lack of it? I doubt you’re on the pill, and I don’t generally carry rubbers around with me.”
“No, of course I’m not on the pill, but I won’t get pregnant.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I just finished my period two days ago. We’re safe.”
“Famous last words.”
She sighed. She knew she wouldn’t get pregnant, though she didn’t know how to explain to him how she knew. She wasn’t certain, herself. It wasn’t a flash of precognition, at least not like the usual flash. It was more a sense than a knowing, but there wasn’t a pregnancy in her immediate future. Next month, maybe, but not now.
She sighed. “If you’re so worried, then we won’t do this again, all right?”
He regarded her for a minute, then grinned. “Some chances,” he said, leaning down to kiss her, “are just meant to be taken.”
7
They heard the outboard motor not long after dawn, when the sun had just turned the eastern sky a brilliant gold. The storms of the night had lasted longer than expected, until almost three o’clock in the morning, but now the morning sky was absolutely cloudless.
“Sounds like the cavalry is arriving,” Lilah said, tilting her head to listen.
“Son of a bitch,” Jackson said mildly. “I was hoping rescue would take a little longer.” He took a sip of coffee. “Do I look like an enraged, frustrated sheriff who was left stranded by a turnip-brain two-bit thug, or a man who’s had a nightlong orgy and whose legs are as limp as noodles?”
She pretended to study him, then shook her head. “You could use some practice on the enraged and frustrated look.”
“That’s what I thought.” Putting his cup down on the table, he stretched his arms over his head and gave her a lazy, contented grin. “Instead of arresting Thaniel, I may give him a commendation.”
“What are you going to arrest him for?” she asked in surprise. “I told you I’m not pressing charges.”
“Whether or not you do, he stole two boats, not just yours. What happens depends on what he’s done with Jerry Watkins’s boat, and what Jerry wants to do about it. If Thaniel was smart, he left the boats at the launch ramp, but then again, if he was smart he wouldn’t have taken them in the first place.”
“If he left them out, the amount of rain we had last night would have sunk them,” Lilah pointed out. “It takes a lot of rain to swamp a boat, but I think we had enough to do the job, don’t you?”
“Probably.” Getting up from the table, he walked into the living room and looked out the window. “Yep, it’s the cavalry.”
Lilah stood beside him and watched the boat carrying two deputies approach her small dock. The river was high and muddy after the night’s storms, so high her dock lacked only a few inches being underwater. They carefully tied the boat to the post and stepped out, both wearing Kevlar vests and carrying shotguns. They cautiously looked around.
Jackson quickly bent and kissed her, his mouth warm and lingering. The look he gave her was full of regret. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low. “I doubt it’ll be today and whether or not I can make it tomorrow depends on how much damage the storms did, and if there are any power outages or cleanup to do.”
“I’ll be here,” she said, her manner calm. She smiled. “I have no way of going anywhere, without my boat.”
“I’ll either get it back, or I’ll make damn certain Thaniel buys you a new one,” he promised, and kissed her again. Then he picked up his vest and shotgun, which he had placed by the front door in anticipation of his “rescue,” and walked out onto the front porch.
Both of the deputies visibly relaxed when they saw him. “You okay, Sheriff?” the older of the two called.
“I’m fine, Lowell. But Thaniel Vargas won’t be when I get my hands on him. He stole both the boat I was using, and Miss Jones’s boat. But he’ll wait; how much damage was there last night?”
Lilah stepped out on the porch behind him, because it would look strange if she didn’t. “Good morning, Lowell.” She nodded to the other deputy. “Alvin. I just made the sheriff some coffee; would y’all like a cup?” She saw Jackson’s brows rise in surprise that she knew his deputies, but he didn’t comment.
“No thanks, Lilah,” Lowell answered. “We need to get on back. Thanks for offering, but I’ve drunk so much
coffee since midnight I doubt I’ll sleep for two days.”
“The damage?” Jackson prompted, taking charge of the conversation again.
“Power was out over most of the county, but it’s back on now all except for Pine Flats. A lot of trees went down, and there’s roof damage to a bunch of houses, but only one actually went into a house, the LeCroy place out near Washington High School. Mrs. LeCroy was hurt pretty bad; she’s in the hospital in Mobile.”
“Any car wrecks?”
Lowell gave him a weary look. “More than you can count.”
“Okay. Sorry I wasn’t on hand to help.”
“I’m just sorry it took us so long to get out here, but with the storms the way they were, only a fool would have gone out on the water.”
“I didn’t expect anybody to risk their lives coming after me. I was okay, just stranded.”
“We weren’t sure, what with Jo telling us she sent you here after Thaniel Vargas. But Thaniel seemed okay, not nervous or anything, and he played dumb, said he hadn’t been up here and hadn’t seen you.”
“You saw him?” Jackson asked sharply.
“He helped us get a tree out of the highway. Anyway, we figured the storm had caught you. We didn’t want to take any chances, since you could have run into some other kind of trouble out here, so we came looking.”
Jackson shook his head. He never would have figured Thaniel capable of that much brass; maybe that thick-headed act was more of an act than If so, he’d have to take Thaniel a lot more seriously than he had before. Walking down to the dock, he handed the shotgun to Alvin and stepped into the boat. “Well, let’s go to work,” he said. He turned and raised his hand. “Thanks for feeding me, Miss Jones.”
“You’re welcome,” she called, smiling as she hugged her arms against the early-morning chill. She waved them good-bye, a wave both deputies returned, then went back into the house.
Jackson settled onto a boat seat. “Y’all seem to know Miss Jones pretty well,” he said, driven by curiosity.
