B00DVWSNZ8 EBOK (29 page)

"
I’m worn out,” she said. “I should go home, but—and I hate to say this—I don't have a way to get home."

"Jude," he said softly. She opened her eyes just in time to see him lean toward her. He placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "
You don't have to go. That is, unless you want to."

A rush of adrenaline zinged through her system.
Her breath caught and her eyes focused on his mouth. She sat perfectly still, almost not daring to breathe. His hand ran down her arm until it found her hands in her lap. He picked up her hand and rested his elbows on his thighs, his head lowered to where she could see a swirl of wavy caramel-colored hair around his crown.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night in Stephenville," he said softly, fingering her hands. He looked up, his brow arched, his face only inches away. Like blue flames, his eyes burned into hers. "Have you thought about it at all?"

Only every minute of every day and night.
She nodded.

"We're good together, Jude.
”

Yes!
“I…thought so.”

“
Maybe we ought to try it and see where it goes. I know we’d have a lot to deal with. Your dad, your grandpa….My boy….But I think we’re strong enough to handle it. You don’t hate kids, do you?"

She saw hunger in his eyes, the same as she had seen that night
in Stephenville. Hot blood surged through her veins. She could see the stubble of his late-day beard, see a tiny mole near his earlobe, feel his breath on her lips. Her breath suspended as her chest grew heavy and aching and memories bombarded her. "N-no. I teach kids, remember?...But...but what...about...Joyce?"

"Joyce? What about her?"

"Everyone's talking about her...and you. Joyce herself is talking about the two of you. I hear it from her cousin at the teachers’ meetings."

His eyes held hers. His head slowly shook. "
Darlin’, there's no Joyce. Not in the way you're thinking."

Are you sure about that?
she was so tempted to say. But she wanted to believe him. And most of all, she didn't want to leave him.

He stood
and she saw that he was hard. She tried to remember how he looked in his bare masculine glory, but she really hadn't gotten a thorough look at him aroused that dark night in Stephenville. She looked up at him. Their eyes locked and he offered her his hand. Her heart raced like a runaway horse, but she placed her hand in his and rose to her feet. Then she was in his arms, where she had thought she would never be again. He held her against him in a tight embrace and she was no longer cold. She felt deliciously warm.

"
God, I’ve missed you," he murmured, pressing her tightly against him.

“Me, too,” she said, her voice nearly overcome by tears. She hugged him fiercely.

Even through his thick robe, she could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. She ran her hands over his sinewy back, slid them into his sweatpants. He caught her hand and moved it around between them, placed it against him. She clasped his rigid penis, rose to her tiptoes and sought his mouth.

He kissed her
like a starving man,  his tongue sliding against hers and sinking all the way into her mouth in a passionate kiss so powerful it made her dizzy. She tore her mouth from his and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "Oh, my gosh," she whispered.

H
is hand burrowed into her hair and tilted her head. His mouth melded with hers again, setting her on fire. Hanging on to his erection, she wrapped her free arm around his waist and savored the burn, the subtle taste of chocolate and whiskey.

His lips dragged over her face, her eyelids. "
I’ve tried not to think about you…but you never leave my thoughts."

She swept her thumb back and forth across the smooth tip of him, feeling his moisture. The scent of sex rose between them. He leaned back and tugged the tie at the robe's front. "This
is worse than that black lace bra that night in Stephenville."

The robe
’s belt easily came undone. His hands came inside it and his arms encircled her body. She felt the warmth of him, felt a fine tremble in his body as they kissed again.

He pulled away
and looked down at her, the look in his eyes dark and intense. “My bed’s a lot warmer than this kitchen.” He grabbed her hand and started for the bedroom. “Come on."

This wasn't what she expected on this dark and stormy night, but she had no objection. Without a word,
she let him lead her to his bedroom.

The bedroom was only dimly lit by the living room light spilling through the doorway. At the edge of the rumpled bed, he kissed her again
, both of his hands on her bare bottom, kneading. He anchored her to him, pelvis to pelvis. Hot blood raged through her veins like wildfire. His tongue urgently explored her mouth, savagely delved in and out in a sensual rhythm. Desperate need throbbed low in her belly and instinctively she moved herself against his erection. "Brady..."

A low
growl came from his throat and he became more aggressive, biting and teasing her lips. The robe slid off her shoulders and pooled around her ankles. His big strong hands gripped her thighs beneath her buttocks, he lifted her off her feet and eased her back on the bed, at the same time parting her thighs.

He slid the sweatpants past his hips
The room wasn't so dark that she couldn't see the crown of his jutting penis peeking from beneath his shirttail. Filled with sweet anticipation, she lay shamelessly sprawled before his eyes.

He leaned away from her for a few seconds and dug a familiar-looking black box out of his bedside table drawer. She watched, fascinated, as he rolled a condom onto his swollen length. She felt dreamy and feverish, as if this weren't quite happening, but she knew from the hours she had spent in bed with him before, every inch of him was real.

Then he was over her, braced on one hand. The other slid between them and his fingers slid through her pubic hair, stroked her sex. The deep muscles inside her began to clench. "Go ahead," she murmured.

"
And do what?" Smiling, he lowered his head and kissed her, licked into her mouth while his fingers gently parted her drenched folds and stroked and teased.

"You know," she murmured. "Touch me.
Like you did before...."

"Here?" He worked his fingers into her slick emptiness
and gently stroked."Lift your knees," he said softly.

She obeyed. His fingers left her and she felt the wide tip of him push into her, felt her flesh stretch around the thick head of him.
"Oh!"

He stopped. Even in the dim light she could see his face fierce with passion. For her. A thrill coursed through her. "Okay?" he said huskily.

"Yes," she breathed, lifting herself to him for more. He pushed all the way in. The pressure of his thickness sent utter pleasure skittering through her. He was so hot and impossibly hard.

His eyes opened and their gazes locked as he began moving inside her. So slow. Too slow. "
I love how you feel," she whispered. “So good.”

"So good," he echoed. "So sweet." His head lowered and his mouth took hers again in an all-or-nothing kiss. And she gave and gave. All that she was
, all she had ever been or would be. She was his, forever.

The slow, steady rhythm was agonizing and delicious and wonderful, but that strange need
had taken over and taunted her in the far reaches and all she could think of was letting it break out. "Brady, please..." She hugged his hips with her thighs and tried to urge him to move faster.

"More?"

"Yes."

His tempo picked up. His thick penis thrust into her deeply,
stretching her deliciously. Heat and friction built a coil of desire low in her belly. Her hips hitched. She began to pant. His chest heaved, his breath gusted. A rough growl rumbled from his throat. His arms hooked behind her knees and he pushed them high and wide, pinning her. He braced himself on his hands and drove deeper, the root of him rasping there where she wanted it. "Oh! Oh Brady…"

"
Good spot?"

She began to spasm. "
Just don't stop."

He didn't, not until
he had sent pleasure tearing through her in waves. A sob crawled up her throat and became an outcry. He bucked hard and her name burst from his mouth as he climaxed.

Then it was over and he was lying on top of her. They both gasped for breath and neither of them was entirely on the bed. She lay beneath him, sprawled and boneless, her palms open beside her head. She wanted him to stay inside her forever. "Wow," she said. "Foreplay must not be all it's cracked up to be."

He lifted his head and smiled weakly. "I was just so friggin' horny. Foreplay comes next."

Chapter 23

Brady stayed where he was for a long time, buried in Jude's sweet warmth.
Foreplay? Oh, man
. As much as he wanted to give her pleasure, he had been too far gone for lengthy foreplay. When he had walked into the kitchen and seen her in his robe, he just knew she was wearing nothing underneath it. He had wanted to say much more, but all he could think about was her lush body beneath him, with his screaming cock buried to the hilt.

His strength gradually returned. Foreplay. He might be lousy at conversation, but foreplay he could do. He rose above her, pinned her wrists beside her head and looked down at her. Even in the room's poor light, he could see her nipples still peaked and dark. He ducked his head and licked them. She moaned softly and the sound shot straight to his groin.
He was more in control of himself now, so he took his time teasing and circling her nipples with his tongue. Her vaginal muscles flexed against his penis. "You'll make me hard again."

She laughed softly, and her muscles flexed again.

He, too, gave a soft laugh. "You're ornery." He pulled out of her, instantly missing her tight warmth.

"Oh, don't," she said.

"Shh...You wanted foreplay." He moved his mouth down her middle, flicking with his tongue and nipping her soft skin with his teeth. She strained against his hands as he smoothed his mouth over her silky body's peaks and valleys. Her scent filled his nostrils. A stir in his belly started up again, but he told his head to ignore it.

Her back arched. "Brady..."

"Hmm?" He released one wrist and slipped two fingers into her as far as they would reach, found her creamy and slick. While he licked her belly, he drew out her moisture and languidly opened her and stroked every soft, wet petal. Her free hand gripped his biceps and she made sweet little sounds.

"Good?" he whispered against her springy woman's hair, burying his nose in her scent and working his fingers inside her.

"Brady..."

She was
squirming. He quickly pulled out his fingers and slid to the floor on his knees. At the same time he gripped her hips and pulled her to him. He parted the swollen lips of her sex with his thumbs and slid the tip of his tongue into her. She gasped and her hips lifted. And no wonder. Her clit was so firm, he felt it easily with his tongue. He pulled back. Her knees fell wide, opening herself for him. "Oh, don't stop," she gasped, her hands clasping his head. "Please. Make me—"

"Not yet," he murmured against her slick layers. He took his time. He licked deeply, tasted profusely, avoided giving her what she wanted, while he worked his fingers inside her. Her hips began to pump, she panted and whimpered
. When he believed she'd had enough, he drew her hard little clit into his mouth and sucked as if he were a hungry babe. Her hips came off the bed, but he held her in place and didn't stop until she came and came and came. Her hands gripped his head and hair and pulled him up her body until his mouth reached hers. She devoured his mouth, wildly licking her own taste from his lips and tongue.

"Come inside me," she begged. "Please come inside me. I need you inside me."

"We can't, darlin'." He kissed her hard and fast. "I don't have another rubber."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

She gasped a great breath, released her grip on his head and flopped her arms against the bed. "
Damn," she said.

He chuckled against her neck. He loved giving her pleasure. He got to his feet, heaving a great breath. He pulled her off the bed and up beside him, then turned back the bedspread. "Get under the covers," he said. "I'll be right back."

He padded to the bathroom, disposed of the rubber and washed himself. On his way back to the bedroom, he detoured by the living room and switched off the light, then returned to the bedroom, stripped off his shirt and tossed it, and crawled in bed beside her. "We've gotta get some sleep," he said, and gathered her into his arms.

"I know." She wiggled against him until she found a comfortable place.

He was exhausted and she had to be, too. He was already drifting into sleep when he thought of something. "Jude? You thought I was sleeping with Joyce Harrison?"

"Just gossip."

"I haven't been with anybody in a hulluva long time, Jude. Only you."

Not even Ginger?
she wondered.

“Not even Ginger,” he said.

"Me, neither. But you already know that." She sighed. "I'm an open book."

He smiled
and hugged her tighter. Did he dare think of her as his?

Jude barely stirred when
Brady awoke at four thirty and eased out of bed. He had to because breakfast was served in the cookhouse between four-thirty and four forty-five. Jude awoke long enough to kiss him good-bye. He said he would return after daylight to check on the bulls and deal with the pickup and trailer. Jude wrapped her arms around his pillow and went back to sleep.

But she was
awake by six o'clock, smiling and even humming. And noticing a few new sensitive places. Indeed, he had made good on his promise of foreplay.

She had never even imagined sex could be like it was with Brady.
Just one more thing that proved that when the choice was up to her, when Daddy and Grandpa stayed out of her relationships with men, she did much better on her own. How had she lived without a true loving man for so many years? And why had she?

She slipped into Brady's robe and
made her way to the kitchen.

She switched on the radio on top of the old refrigerator and turned up the volume. Country-western music twanged into the room. Honky-tonk music,
as Suzanne called it. Jude had been in honky-tonks only a few times, always with Suzanne. She moved through a couple of dance steps Brady had taught her as she put water on to boil for more hot chocolate.

While she waited for the
hot water, she gazed through the kitchen window. With diamond-like brilliance, sunlight glistened off the outbuildings' metal roofs and the moisture on the blades of grass. Summer had returned. This was West Texas at its best, alive and glowing just after a thirst-quenching rain.

She had difficulty imagining the crisis that had beleaguered her only a few hours earlier. This morning, the sky was breathtakingly blue. As blue as Brady Fallon's eyes. She was in awe of the order of things. A month ago, she would have said his eyes were as blue as the sky, but today, she
thought the opposite. She saw Brady first. And she saw his square jaw and lean cheeks and the half smile that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle and dance with a hint of his dry sense of humor.

She touched her jeans and shirt and underwear, which had been left hanging over the backs of two kitchen chairs. They were dry but looked as if they had been trampled by the bulls. Fortunately, with Daddy being in Amarillo, he wouldn't see her when she went home and wonder where she had spent the night.

Clumps of mud covered her custom-made boots. They had been soaked from sole to shaft and smelled of wet leather. They would take days to dry out and were ruined. She groaned. She liked those boots.

She helped herself to the shower
and Brady’s body wash, relishing the idea of being enveloped by his scent all day.. , one of those fiberglass units that had been installed well after the construction of the house. She brushed her teeth with her finger and his toothpaste, used his he-man deodorant and borrowed his brush and comb. She even found some fragrant cream to rub on her face and body. It smelled clean and fresh, like him. She kept smiling like a loon as she rubbed some everywhere.

Back in the kitchen, she was dumping a packet of instant hot chocolate into a mug when the warble of a phone surprised her. She didn't know he'd had a landline installed. She looked at it on the far end of the counter. She almost answered it but
at the last minute, thought better of it.

Instead, she poured hot water into the mug and waited for the answering machine to pick up. A woman's voice left a message.

"Brady, honey, it’s me. I woke up wanting to talk to you. I'm so grateful for the time we had Sunday evening. It meant more to me than I can ever tell you. I've made so many mistakes, Brady and I don't want to make another. You were right about Andy loving you and missing you. And he needs you. I know Jarrett isn't your son, but he thinks of you as his father. He loves you and needs you, too. Just want to let you know I'm trying to arrange a trip over there. I'm eager to see your aunt's old house. As smart as you are, I'm sure you'll be able to turn it into a mansion. I don't want to interfere with your job, so just let me know when your days off are so we'll be able to spend some time together and work out some things when I come. I'll call you tonight, honey, and we can talk some more. Or if you want to call me, you have my number."

Click!

Jude set the hot pan back on the stove, her mind a blank.

Honey?...
Time we had Sunday evening...Work out some things when I come?

L
istening to the message a second time, thought came charging back. This was the voice of Brady's ex-wife. But what did this call mean? Were they in the middle of a reconciliation? It sounded like it.

She could hardly stand to think of him with someone else the way he had been with her last night.

Other than knowing Brady went to Fort Worth to visit his son, Jude knew little else about their relationship or his relationship with his ex-wife. Of course he was devoted to his son. Otherwise he wouldn't drive all the way to Fort Worth so often to see him.

Jude's stomach began to churn. She crossed her arms and gripped her elbows to stop it, but the sick feeling didn't go away
.

Hunger
?
She opened the refrigerator but saw nothing but a package of bologna, a package of sliced cheese, a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. She slammed the refrigerator door and stared out the kitchen window, trying to put two logical thoughts together.

Brady was a decent man. If he had been
trying to put his marriage back together, surely he wouldn't have had sex with her last night. And he had said things—loving things—as if he cared about her. Had he lied to her?

An overwhelming desire to get out of his house overcame her, a desire to go home, to bury herself in familiar and safe surroundings. He had told her to wait for him until he found a chance to come back, but who knew when that would be? All sorts of mishaps and unplanned events could occur at the Circle C. What she had to do was check to see if Spike or Charlie Brown was hurt, then get her pickup and trailer home.

But as she began to get ready to leave, a new dilemma plagued her. If she called on anyone at the ranch to come get her and her pickup, she would have to explain why she was at the new general manager's house in the early morning in filthy, wrinkled clothing. She had vowed to never again get caught up in a web of lies, however petty they originally seemed.

A new
Lubbock phone book lay on the counter by the phone. She thumbed to the yellow pages and found the tow-truck listings. The dispatcher at the first number told her he would have a truck on the scene in an hour and a half. It was nice when a company provided real customer service. Throwing out her last name had done no harm, either.

The Circle C owned a virtual fleet of pickups, trucks and trailers and sundry other equipment. Once back at the ranch, she could find some kind of rig and return to pick up the bulls without having to explain a
thing. Brady might return before the tow truck arrived; then again, maybe not.

She pulled on her wet boots, donned her wrinkled clothing and tramped through the mud and sunshine to the soggy pasture behind the barn. Unlike most of the Circle C 's bulls, Spike and Charlie Brown were gentle and used to people. They gave her no trouble as she examined their hooves and legs. They had a few scrapes, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Still, she would ask Doc Barrett to look at them.

She went outside to wait for her rescuer. But it wasn't Brady Fallon she waited for. Her knight in shining armor this morning was a tow truck from Lubbock.

M
idmorning. To Brady's annoyance, he hadn't been able to get back to his house, nor had he had a chance to arrange to have the bulls hauled. He had gotten tied up in the vet barn behind the clinic, assisting Doc Barrett and Clary Harper. The peak horse-breeding season was coming to an end and they were in the middle of teasing a stallion, set to collect semen.

One thing he had learn
ed quickly was that with having an office so near to the ranch's veterinary operations, he often was called on to help the doc or Clary. He didn't mind. He was learning more about horse breeding and AI than he had ever expected to know, though he was having difficulty concentrating this morning. And because he and Jude had been awake most of the night, he was tired.

The roar of a large truck engine caught the attention of
the three of them. Brady left the barn to investigate. Clary followed him. Jude's truck, its right side plastered front to back with red mud, rolled into the gravel parking area around the barn. The passenger door and bed were caved in. A blue-and-white tow truck followed it, pulling a mud-encrusted stock trailer. Brady stopped midstep and stared. Why hadn't she waited for him?