All Shook Up (21 page)

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Authors: Susan Andersen

BOOK: All Shook Up
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She wrapped her legs around his hips, and her breath began to hitch in her throat almost immediately. J.D. ripped his mouth away and leaned backward from the waist as he felt her orgasm approach. Pumping his hips with steady, emphatic thrusts, he greedily observed every expression that crossed her face.

She opened her eyes and saw him watching. Color burned with feverish heat high on her cheekbones. “Oh, God, J.D.,” she whispered. “Oh, God, I’m going to, I want to…”


Come
.” Hands against the backs of her thighs, he pressed her legs high and wide while he bent his knees and pushed up into her from a slightly different angle. Deeper and harder, until her head dropped back and she stared blindly into space. Frantic sounds climbed her throat and the wet satin tightness that clasped his sex like a Chinese finger puzzle tugged and contracted around it as she climaxed.

He felt his own orgasm gathering momentum in his testicles and pulled back for one final thrust…

Only to remember a small but pertinent fact, and yank himself out of her entirely.


No
!” she protested. “Not yet; you haven’t—” Her hips moved against his in a bid to get him back inside her, and when he instead pressed himself between silky, down-covered folds of feminine flesh outside the danger zone, she wailed, “
Why?

“No condom,” he panted and saw her eyes go wide in horrified comprehension. He stroked his erection along the slippery length of her cleft once, twice, three times.

Then, with a groan, he spilled his seed against her lower stomach.

When the last pulsation had faded, he took a deep, shuddery breath and let his forehead thump down on the tongue-and-groove wall next to her head. He sagged heavily against her, compressing her between his torso and the wall’s solid surface. He felt logy and boneless and full of a perfect contentment such as he’d rarely experienced—as though he’d just been welcomed in front of a roaring fire on a bitterly cold day.

“Jesus Jake,” he whispered and carefully scooped his hands beneath her butt to both protect it from the roughness of the wood and support her weight. “It’s a wonder you don’t have a backside full of slivers.”

She kissed his throat. “You know what, J.D.?” she whispered. “You’re a great big fraud.”

His heart seemed to stop for an instant, then kicked like an enraged mule against the wall of his chest. Warily he pulled back far enough to look into her face. “You wanna give me a clue to what the hell you’re talking about?”

“This,” she said, tightening her legs around his hips. “I’m talking about this. There is no way in hell that what you and I just shared is the same thing you’ve offered to a dozen women before me.”

J
.D. carefully straightened and, with Dru’s arms still looped around his neck and her legs gripping his hips, walked into the bathroom. He eased her onto her feet, ran hot water to wet a washcloth, and cleaned them both up.

“No comment?” she inquired.

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say?” That he had a sinking feeling she might be right? He’d learned young never to hand over the kind of power such an admission would endow.

Dru stared at him in frustration. “I don’t get you at all,” she said and reached for a towel to wrap around herself. Even though she’d known he wouldn’t welcome her with open arms, the stony expression she faced now made her long to shake him until he opened up to her once and for all.

She stared up at him in mute frustration, and he sim
ply returned her look in that cool, contained manner he seemed to adopt so easily.

“What’s not to get?” he said with a shrug. “I’m a fairly simple man.”

“Oh, yeah, simple.” She nearly choked. “That must be why you ran from Sophie and Ben’s house like all the demons from hell were nipping at your heels.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he said stiffly and reached for the other towel. Maintaining aloof eye contact, he wrapped it around his hips.

“Oh, yes, you do, and don’t you dare pretend otherwise! Uncle Ben patched you up, and Aunt Soph and Tate and I fussed around you a little bit, and you couldn’t take it. Why is it so damn difficult for you to admit that we might actually have something worthwhile to offer you? Or that you and I could possibly have something special growing between us? I know you feel something for me, J.D.”

“Yeah? And what makes you think that, Drucilla? The fact that I pulled out to keep you from becoming an unwed mother—
again
?”

For just an instant she froze. Even suspecting it was a calculated ploy to keep her at arm’s length, it hurt to have him throw that in her face.

She thought she might understand his reasoning—but it filled her with impatience.

She stepped close and thrust her chin up at him. “You want to know the details of that, John David?” she demanded. “All you have to do is ask.”

“I don’t give a rip one way or the other.”

“Oh, like hell. I bet you’re just dying for every nasty
little detail.” Watching with satisfaction as a dull, angry red climbed his throat and onto his face, she said, “I was eighteen years old when I met Tate’s father. I was in college, away from home for the first time, and I thought he was my one true love. It turned out to be nothing but a fantasy, though, because the minute I told him I was pregnant, he disappeared.”

“Aw, hell.” J.D.’s face registered contrition. “Listen, you don’t have to—”

“It wasn’t my first rejection,” she interrupted without compunction. He’d started this; he could damn well hear her out. “My folks were a lot more interested in chasing adventure than in parenting, and they dumped me on Aunt Sophie and Uncle Ben every chance they got. Which in the end was undoubtedly a huge favor, but I sure didn’t see it that way when I was a little girl.” She ran a hand through her hair and realized for the first time what a mess she must be, then shrugged. “Obviously I decided to keep my baby. And having gotten to know Tate, you can appreciate that I’ve never once regretted that decision. What might not be quite so evident is that I also decided to forgo love from that point on, because love hurts and I had no desire to be hurt again. I managed to keep my heart inviolate for years. Then you came along.”

He went very still. “And—what?—you suddenly find yourself in love with me?”

The sneering tone shot straight to her heart. Did he think it was
easy
to open herself up like this? But when she looked at him closely, she saw his tense jaw and watchful eyes. They didn’t quite pull off the cynical amusement that Dru suspected had been his aim.

If she were the least bit smart, she’d listen to that tone of voice and protect herself by flat-out denying her feelings. But his expression gave her the courage to say truthfully, “Yes. Exactly.”

A myriad of emotions flashed across his face but were stifled so rapidly, so completely, that she was left wondering what she’d seen. All he showed now was a faint impatience.

“You don’t even know me,” he said flatly. “Hell, we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“That’s perfectly true,” she readily agreed. “And I’ll tell you truthfully—if Tate ever comes to me when he’s eighteen and tells me he’s crazy in love with some girl he’s known for as short a time as I’ve known you, I’ll do everything in my power to talk him out of rushing into anything foolish.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

“I wouldn’t thank Him quite so quickly if I were you.” She smiled at the immediate wariness that flashed across his face. “Because I
do
know you. And I’m a long way from that naive eighteen-year-old who fell for Tate’s daddy. So while I plan not to rush blindly into anything, neither do I find my feelings the least bit foolish.”

J.D. snorted. “Hell, no. You just fancy yourself suddenly in love with me. Nothing foolish about that.”

She smiled reasonably. “What exactly do you find so outlandish about it?”

He had that hunted look in his eyes again. “Like I said, sweetheart, you don’t know me.”

“I know the important stuff—that you’re a hard worker, sweet as can be to Tate, and so honorable it
moves me to tears. God knows you take the word ‘responsible’ to a whole new level. Give me some credit, John David. I’ve worked with the public my entire adult life—I do recognize a good man when I see one.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Didn’t you learn anything from this afternoon, Drucilla? I’m not a man you want to put your faith in.”

“Oh, what rot! We’ve been over this and
over
this.” She reached out to touch his bare stomach, her fingers tracing lightly down the hard, warm muscles above the low-slung, knotted towel. “I don’t get it, J.D. Why do you persist in pushing away every single person who wants to get close to you?”

“Because it saves time!” Staring at her in frustration, he thrust an impatient hand through his hair. “You think I haven’t wanted to get close to anyone before? You think I haven’t tried? Well, think again, because I’ve not only wanted it, I’ve given it my best shot in the hope that I’d somehow find what a few lucky others seem to have found. But it’s been my experience that while things may start out promising enough, it goes downhill from there.”

“Where is it written that it
has
to, though?” she demanded.

“For chrissake, Drucilla—grow up!” Then he shook his head and looked at her with regret, reaching out to smooth her hair away from her face. He buried his fingers in the thick fall behind her ears and traced the slopes of her cheekbones with his thumbs. “No, forget I said that; you deserve to keep that wide-eyed optimism as long as you can. But I’m warning you right now: if
you hang around me long enough, you’ll lose it. And you’ll sure as hell change your mind about me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that folks always do.”

“Well, I’m not ‘folks,’ and I don’t plan on changing my mind.”

Hating the cynical disbelief in his eyes, she raised up on her toes to press a tender kiss against the muscle that bunched in his jaw. She grasped his forearms for balance, and felt them as stiff as porch posts beneath her hands. She drew back to look into his eyes. “If there’s one thing I intend to do, Carver, it’s stick around. You might as well get used to it.”

If the look on his face was anything to go by, that was precisely what he was afraid of. She laughed ruefully—since it was either that or cry—and patted the rigid muscles beneath her hands. “You needn’t look so alarmed.”

“Dammit, Dru, one of us had better be! I’ve done things in my life that would turn your stomach.”

“When?” she demanded. “When you were a
kid
? Because I know you haven’t been arrested for anything as an adult.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“When Edwina left her share of the lodge to you, we ran a background check on you just like we’d do on any applicant applying for a top position. And you don’t have an adult record, so quit trying to convince me what a badass you are.” She rubbed her knuckles against his hard abdomen. “I don’t plan to push you, J.D. And it’s not as if I’m asking you to waltz me down the aisle. I just want to spend some time with you, okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed cautiously. “I like spending time with you, too.”

Warmth spread in Dru’s breast. “Okay, good. Then just consider this while we’re together: perhaps I haven’t known you for long, but I’m a pretty decent judge of character, and I’ve come to appreciate your value as a man. I’m willing to wait until you can appreciate it as well.”

Then you’ll have a long wait,
was all J.D. could think. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe every word that came out of her mouth. But there was something about him that ultimately drove people away. If he bought into her fairy tale now and had to watch the disillusionment in her eyes later on—and in the eyes of her family—when they all discovered whatever that something was, he didn’t think he could stand it.

So all he said aloud was, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Butch glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to observe what he was up to, then crouched down by the back fender of J.D.’s Mustang and removed the gas cap. He was tired of screwing around—he wanted to get the hell out of Nowhereville and back to the life he knew.

Threading a length of hose down into the gas tank, he considered maybe giving up his plans to eliminate J.D. and simply lighting out for home. If his old bud had seen anything on the news, he sure as hell hadn’t made any mad dash to Seattle to blow the whistle. J.D. seemed all wrapped up in the brunette with the big
blue eyes and the bodacious ta-tas. So maybe he oughtta just pack it up and head for home.

Then he thought,
Yeah, right
. Like J.D. had ever been interested in any woman for more than a few days running. And the damn news reports in Seattle were still running the sob story put out by the store clerk’s family.

With renewed purpose, he sucked on the free end of the hose, then stuck it into the mouth of one of the two five-gallon cans he’d brought along to hold the Mustang’s siphoned gas.

 

After Dru left to check on Tate, restlessness rode J.D.’s back like the Devil himself. He wandered from room to room looking for something to occupy his attention—
anything
to prevent him from thinking. But he couldn’t find a single thing to settle on, so the thoughts he’d tried so hard to keep at bay kicked in. He’d give his left nut to avoid them, because the way he’d felt when Dru had professed her love disturbed him. It disturbed the hell out of him.

He wasn’t a man who feared much; that was the upside of having been brought up rough. If you’d managed to survive the foster system with all its pitfalls and miseries, you could survive damn near anything else life had to throw at you.

But if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit he was afraid of the love Dru offered. Afraid of the strength with which he wanted it. Afraid that if he brought himself to accept it, he’d grow to depend upon it.

And he was especially afraid of what it would do to him if, when—no,
if
, dammit

it was taken away.

Maybe his fears were irrational, but being able to give and accept love came down to a matter of trust—and he just didn’t know if he had it in him
to
trust.

And yet…

A big part of him already did trust Dru. If anyone deserved his faith, it was her. She was genuine and honest and so damn squeaky-clean—utterly untainted by the sort of squalor that had marked so much of his life.

Now he was actually considering the idea of a relationship—and with a decent woman. Seriously considering it, giving it the honest-to-God benefit of the doubt. She had him thinking
if
instead of
when
.
If
it fell apart.

And if that wasn’t trust, he didn’t know what was.

Hell, he didn’t know whom he was trying to kid, anyhow. There was no way he was walking away from this. Doing so would hurt every bit as much now as it would if he stuck it out and in the end she walked out on him anyhow. He was a practical man, so he might as well enjoy what she had to offer while he could.

His pacing brought him back for another pass through the bedroom, and he paused to give the closet door a considering glance. He turned to leave the room but stopped before he reached the door. A moment later he crossed the room to the closet and pulled his duffel bag off the shelf, where he’d flung it the day he’d arrived.

He sat down on the bed and for several long moments simply stared at the bag in his lap. Then he
reached inside and pulled out the stack of letters from Edwina.

He fished Edward Lawrence’s watch out of his pocket and rubbed his thumb over its etched gold lid. He regarded it soberly for several long moments. Then he returned it to his pocket, set the empty duffel next to him on the quilt, and pried open the first sealed letter.

It was similar to the few he’d read when he’d first left Edwina’s care, and his jaw tightened. It forgave him for a transgression he’d never committed.

Didn’t it?

Reading the letter once again through the eyes of a man, rather than those of a hurt and bitter boy, he realized that, no, perhaps that wasn’t precisely what it said. He stared down again at Edwina’s spidery, old-fashioned handwriting.

I’ve always believed in maintaining the highest standards. But I now realize that we all make mistakes, and that an error of judgment can be made in the space of a second—and haunt us from that moment forward. Come home, J.D. Please. Give us the chance to put this all behind us.

As a youth, he’d taken her words to mean that while she maintained the highest of standards for herself, she didn’t expect him to adhere to such lofty standards. He’d concluded that Edwina was saying he didn’t quite measure up, but that she’d allow him to come back nonetheless.

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