Best Erotic Romance 2014 (19 page)

“Heathen!” Her mouth dropped open.

“You're in the boonies, baby. Folks are gonna wonder about John Kleszczynska's kin being Hindu.” He laughed, and Jane grew slightly irritated.

“I didn't say I was Hindu, I said I was chanting kirtan.”

He reached out and briefly touched her shoulder. “Hey! No problem by me. Just giving you fair warning about life in the boonies. You sound like a city girl, and that will be strike one against you. Chanting Hindu-like will be strike two.”

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “And what will be strike three, do you suppose?”

He worked the brim of his cap up and down a few times, thinking. “Taking up with that nice Bradford boy, perhaps?”

She dropped her arms, flummoxed by the rush of heat that leaped up from a deep place, set her heart thumping and caused what was sure to be a bright, pink blush to bloom across her cheeks. She turned her face toward Tuscarora Creek, as if the creek would supply her with an appropriately glib reply.

He laughed. Jane, despite her flustered state, noted the way his laugh seemed to blend harmoniously with the chuckling of the creek. “Hey, I'm kidding,” he said. “We just met and I'm a good, Christian country boy.”

She looked back at his delightful grin, broad shoulders and trim hips. Her nipples began to harden with approval, so she quickly crossed her arms across her chest. She rolled her eyes again and said, “Oh, I bet.”

He touched his hand to the edge of his hat and said, “Look, it was great to meet you, Miss Harmony. Sit as long as you'd like. I'm fishing again Thursday, so do me a favor and use your nymph-like voice to sing the fish down to that bend, there.” He
gestured downstream. And with that he turned, hopped up the bank and disappeared into the tangle of willows and scrub.

Jane stared into the greenery awhile, replaying the whole encounter in her mind a few times over, marveling that a part of her, the part of her that she'd been sure the bad husband had starved to death, was alive and well and eagerly anticipating Thursday.

Wednesday flew by as Jane hauled three more loads of Uncle John's junk to the county transfer station. She fell in bed exhausted. But the flicker in her belly, the source of her blush, was wide awake and perpetually sending her images of Beau Bradford: his smile, his laugh, the shape of him. The flicker enticed her hand to caress the skin of her abdomen, her hip, her thigh. Her wandering hand traveled up and down and…

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, and shoved her hand under the pillow.

Jane fell asleep making a list of why it would be a bad idea to take up with her neighbor so soon after cutting the bad husband out of her life. As she drifted off, she thought she could hear the flicker in her belly and the burbling of Tuscarora Creek whispering, conspiring. She dreamed of crossing the creek on the back of a purple elephant, but woke before she found out where it was taking her.

Thursday morning she attempted to make sense of her uncle's gardening journal, thumbed through old seed catalogs, and walked about the fenced-in, weed-infested plot of land behind the house. Jane had never grown so much as a strawberry and had no idea where to begin. But ever since discovering the lusciousness of fresh strawberries at the farm stand three miles from her house, strawberries had been her motivation to learn to garden.

Jane knew the dirt needed to be turned if any seeds were to make it into the soil. She worked through the lunch hour, leaning on the spade, lifting and turning the dark earth. The bad husband had told her she would hate living alone. But each earthworm and toad she discovered, each bouncing robin warbling at her progress, made it clear to her that she was anything but alone. She was sharing her new home with hundreds, if not thousands of other living creatures. A contented smile danced on her face, and contemplating her new companions helped her ignore the spade-induced ache in her thighs and back.

Thursday afternoon she headed up and over the hill, sweating even more than last time, as the humidity had risen. Thick clouds lumbered across the summer sky while carnal thoughts skipped across her consciousness. She frowned at the clouds and swatted the thoughts away as quickly as they rose. “I just want to see the creek again,” she told the scolding blue jays. They didn't believe her.

When she reached Tuscarora Creek, she felt relief rather than shock at the cold water. She waded across and climbed on to the large rock outcropping. She glanced up and down the creek, but her neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in easy pose for a bit, “
Om, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om
” rhythmically passed her lips. Rhythmic, at least, until a tremendous yawn interrupted the flow.

Her legs, fatigued from the spading, grew achy in easy pose. She lay back, stretching out full across the rock, and watched the large, white cumulonimbus clouds wander across the blue sky. She didn't remember closing her eyes. She didn't remember hearing anyone or anything approach her. But she never forgot what she heard next.

“Jane,” he whispered. Her belly jumped, remembering his voice.

“Miss Harmony, don't move.” His voice was so close that the breeze of his words roused her more than their meaning.

“Wha…” she began to turn toward him.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Don't move. There's a rattler next to you.”

He was squatting down beside her, but his eyes were fixed somewhere over her right shoulder.

“What?” She blinked rapidly, trying to process what he'd said.

He looked down at her and flashed a quick smile. “Don't panic, but there is a rattlesnake sunning itself about five inches to your right.”

Jane felt her blood turn as cold as the creek's water. The bad husband had told her about all the things she was sure to hate about living in the country: the bugs, the bats, the mud, the bears and, of course, the snakes. The snakes had been the only truly worrisome item on his list.

A weird sound squeaked out of her throat. She searched Beau's face. Would he kill it? A new feeling rose up. The snake was her new neighbor too. She didn't want it dead. “What do I do?” she whispered.

He wrapped his hand firmly around her forearm, “Grab my arm, like this. I'm going to pull you up so quick, Mr. Snake might not even know you've left.”

They clasped forearms and he whispered “One, two…” and on “three,” he rose quickly from his squat. She was pulled right along with him, pivoting away from the rock and toward his body.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said as he began to backpedal.

“Oh god!” she shrieked, as she threw her other arm over his shoulder and flung her weight into him, wanting to get as far from the snake as she could.

The combined momentum sent them both backward into
Tuscarora Creek. He stumbled back; cold water splashed up around them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the long, sinuous form. At the sight of the snake, Jane began to pedal her legs, as if she could climb her neighbor to safety. He completely lost his footing and they both went down into the chill, flowing waters of the creek.

He came up laughing. She sat waist deep in the water, staring at the rock, heart hammering, body shaking. He clasped her arm again and hoisted her back up.

“You okay?”

She turned away from the snake and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh my god! Oh my god. Sweet Jesus!”

“Oh, so you're a Christian after all,” he laughed.

She pulled back to look at him wide eyed. “I…I…” Words failed her.

“Thank you?” he prompted.

She kissed him so hard they almost fell back into the creek. The Tuscarora seemed to chuckle approvingly.

Beau tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Her breath quickened and when she opened her mouth slightly, her tongue surprised her by coming forward to meet his. Neither of them noticed the cold water around their knees; the heat building between them kept it at bay.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jane said between kisses. When she felt his desire begin to rise against his shorts she realized what she was doing and pulled back. “Wow,” she said simply.

He licked his lips and smiled, “Yeah, wow.”

“Did you just save my life?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. They're really more scared of you than you are of them.”

Jane's short laugh wobbled. “Doubtful!”

He stooped and fetched a rock from the creek bottom. He tossed it gently, underhanded. The rock bounced twice across the ledge before bumping up against the rattlesnake. It jumped.

“See, he was as sound asleep as you.”

The snake yawned—
I didn't know snakes yawned!
Jane thought—and slithered slowly from the ledge.

He put his hands back on her waist. “I shoulda thought to tell you about 'em on Tuesday. Hey,” he looked down, “you're bleeding!”

Jane looked down and sure enough, both her kneecaps trickled rivulets of blood down her shins, briefly staining the water pink, and the Tuscarora carried it away. “Oh, gosh. Just what I need, more scars!”

“C'mon,” he said, as he took her hand and began to lead her from the creek.

“Where are we going?”

“I've got a camper set up not far from here,” he said.

Jane couldn't take her eyes from the ground as they walked. She didn't know if she would be able to take her eyes from the ground for a long time. As lovely as it was to have so many new, living creatures around her, snakes were ones she would rather avoid.

Beau led her into a small pop-up camper, sat her on the sleeping platform, and pulled a first-aid kit from under the sink. As he swabbed and bandaged her knees, he told her that the snakes were usually on the south-facing sides of the hill, and that it wouldn't be a bad idea to walk with a walking stick through the woods. “Let the stick shuffle the leaves ahead of you, not your foot,” he said.

He finished applying the second Band-Aid, placed both his hands on her thighs and tenderly kissed each knee. He smiled up at her. “All better?”

Jane smiled. “All better,” she said, and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

His hands squeezed her thighs gently, and when she pulled back, he followed. His face hovered above hers. “Miss Harmony, may I kiss you?”

She laughed. “We already kissed.”

“You kissed me, you godless heathen. I was taught proper. I ask first!”

And then, without her reply, he kissed her deeply. So deeply Jane felt the heat of his kiss go down to her wounded knees and make them tingle. His hands, still on her thighs, squeezed again and her thighs began to tremble. Jane reached her arms around his waist and leaned back, pulling him over on top of her.

One of his hands left her thigh and slid slowly across her hip, along her waist and settled on her rib cage. He leaned back and looked down at her. “You're very fit,” he said.

“Yoga,” she said, and then pulled his lips back to hers. His hand continued upward, passed briefly across her breast and then stole up around the back of her neck. Her hand, in turn, ventured from his waist down to his rear end. She gave it a squeeze and then pulled back.

“You're very fit,” she giggled.

“Farming,” he said, and grabbed her by the shoulders. With one quick, strong move, he lifted her and slid her all the way back into the sleeping area. Her legs, as if by reflex, circled his waist.

Outside, the fat clouds began to rumble, as if sensing a great event had begun. The air around them grew hotter as their breath came quicker. His hands began to roam from her hair to her neck, her shoulder, to her waist. Jane felt safe under his slow, cautious progress. She also felt the size and shape of his erection pressing against her thigh. She lifted gently against him; in her
mind, she was already enjoying the size of him within her.

He slid her shirt up and began to slide his hand back and forth across her flat stomach. He leaned back and glanced down. “Yoga? Really?”

“
Ashtanga
yoga,” Jane clarified. “It's very physical.”

“You're very physical,” he said.

“I almost forgot I liked being physical.”

She paused, hearing her own words and realizing just what the past years had cost her. The bad husband had been bad in so many ways. She reached for his neck and pulled him back down to her.

His hand slid under her bra and began to gently squeeze. One finger began to explore the hardness of her nipple. She kissed his neck. A wanting kiss. A hungry kiss. His other hand fumbled the button of her shorts loose and then he stopped.

“What?” she panted. She searched his face. “Did you just remember you're a good Christian boy?”

He laughed hard enough to rock his head back. “Hardly!” He kissed her stomach. “I was just thinking, we really should get you out of these wet clothes.”

Outside, the gathered clouds began to push the wind through the trees, as if agreeing with him. Jane nodded mutely, and crossed her arms behind her head, watching Beau-the-neighbor pull off each shoe, toss her dripping socks into the sink and hook his fingers through the belt loops of her cutoff shorts. He began to tug, and she wiggled her hips to help his progress.