Dorothy Garlock (40 page)

His lips covered hers, murmuring between kisses. “Tell me. Tell me what I’m dying to hear you say.”

“I love you. Oh, I do. I was sure that you knew how I felt about you.” The driving force of her feeling was taking her beyond reason, beyond herself and into a new dimension.

His mouth was sweet, his cheeks pleasantly rough against her face. Warm lips became more demanding, and long fingers entwined her tousled hair. His tongue circled her lips, coaxing them to open, and then darted inside to tickle every crevice of her mouth. Her skin tingled, her heart pounded in rhythm with his.

“I love you, Joe. Oh, I do love you.” The taste of him, the feel of him, was so wonderful that she wanted to pull him inside her and keep him there forever.

The kiss lengthened. Her fingers moved, gliding over the firm muscles of his shoulders, slid inside his shirt and into the soft down on his chest, wanting to touch him and instinctively knowing it was what he wanted. Her fingertips brushed a nipple buried in the soft hair, passed by, but returned to caress it. His bare skin surprised her with its smoothness. His body answered the movement of her hand with a violent trembling. He drew his lips away and buried his face in her throat like a child seeking comfort. She held him to her and caressed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Get in bed with me,” she whispered.

He was still for a minute. Then said, “Oh, darlin’ girl. Are you sure? I’ll want to do more than . . . hold you.”

“I want you to do more.” She whispered the words so softly he wasn’t sure that he had understood them.

“You’re sure?” he asked again.

“I’m sure. More than sure.”

He pulled his arms from around her and stood up. She saw him jerk off his shirt, his trousers, and kick off his shoes. She lifted the covers. The mattress sagged, the springs creaked under the extra weight. Then his arms reached for her, gathered her to him and held her tightly against his bare chest. His muscular legs entwined with hers.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” He pulled her arms up to encircle her neck. “Hold me, sweetheart.”

“I’ve never . . .”

His lips stopped her words. “We’ll not do anything you don’t want to do. It’s heaven to be with you like this, holding you, loving you. I’ll not ask for more. Even if it kills me.” One of his hands slipped inside her gown and cupped her breast, his thumb stroking the hard point; the other hand caressed her bottom and pulled her tightly against the part of him that was throbbing painfully. He couldn’t hold back a groan of pleasure.

“You want more,” she whispered. “I feel you against me.” “Ah, sweetheart. I don’t seem to have any control over it. The night of the flood, I was afraid you’d notice and be disgusted with me.” His hand tugged at the neck of her gown. “Will you take it off?” he breathed in her ear. He could feel the fierce pounding of her heart. Her hands reached for the hem and lifted the gown up and over her head.

Seconds later he cradled her to him reverently. His warm, passionate kisses began on her lips and traveled over the side of her face to her ears and throat. His hand caressed every curve, every soft, graceful line, over her hips and down her thigh. He was tender and gentle and set her on fire with passionate kisses. She wanted to speak, to tell him what she was feeling, but she felt certain that he knew.

“Do you want more?” he whispered hoarsely. The part of him that throbbed so aggressively against her was large and strong like the rest of him.

“Everything,” she replied against his lips and swallowed his joyous cry.

Deftly he rolled her onto her back and pinned her with the length of his long body. He was unhurried, tender, amazingly gentle. The stroking of his hands sent waves of pleasure up and down her spine. Her hands glided across his chest and down his shoulders with no thought as to what they should be doing.

She suddenly felt his fingers between her legs stroking the velvet lips. “Is this what you want, my darling girl?”

“Oh, Joe. Yes, yes, yes . . .”

His prowling fingers stroked her until she hurt deep, deep inside of her. She had thought about this but never dreamed she’d feel such exquisite delight. She moved uninhibitedly under his touch. So many new sensations crashed through her body and mind that she was unable to distinguish one from the other. It was all too pleasurable, too wonderful. To be with this beloved man like this was ...was ...

Dear God, it was heaven!

His hands gently held her legs apart. She became aware of a hard pressure against her, a slow, gradual filling of that aching emptiness. A sudden movement of his hips brought a pain-pleasure so intense that she cried out.

“I’m sorry . . . sweetheart. I’m sorry. I had to!” he whispered in her ear and lay still for a long moment.

“I know. It’s all right. It’s all right.” She kissed his face with quick, passionate kisses and clutched at his buttocks to keep his throbbing warmth inside her.

“I hated to hurt you. I love you so much.”

“I expected it to hurt . . . at first.”

He began to move gently, carefully. “All right?”

“All right.”

She lay still for a moment and then began to move, imitating him, finding her reward in the way his kiss deepened and his body trembled. She clung to him, aware only of this sweet, loving man and the wonder of his love for her. Then she became aware of the thrusting, pulsating rhythm that was pushing her toward a bursting, shivering height where nothing but the two of them existed.

“My sweetheart! My love . . .” His voice came to her as if from a great distance as they reached the summit. Then she was over the top, lost in a sea of sensation.

When it was possible to think and feel again, Joe’s weight was pressing her down in the bed. She put her mouth to his shoulder, tasting the salty tang of his skin. He moved his head to kiss her lips, his mouth so tender on hers, so reverent, that it almost brought tears.

A wave of protective love washed over her. She wrapped her arms around him. Her lips sought his and kissed him desperately. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, and she held him there.

When he moved, it was only a fraction so he could whisper, “Did you like making love with me? It’s only the first of many times.”

“I loved it,” she breathed. “I didn’t have any idea that it would be so wonderful.”

“It’s only this wonderful with the one you love, sweetheart.” He rolled, taking her with him, and they lay side by side, face-to-face, sharing small nibbling kisses. “If I had known what it was like to have you like this, feel your breasts against me, I wouldn’t have been able to wait.” His lips moved over her face and paused to tease her lashes.

“I never thought that this awful evening would have such a wonderful ending.”

“It isn’t over, love.” He leaned back so he could see her face. She smiled, seeing that the old grin she loved had returned.

“You don’t mean ...?”

“I haven’t heard the train go through.”

“What has the train to do with it?”

“It goes through town at four-thirty. That’s when I’ll leave so you’ll not be labeled a scarlet woman in case Miss Daven-port is up looking out the window.”

“You don’t have to leave. If Doc could keep Caroline in here for a week, I can keep you for a day. Tomorrow is Sunday. When you want to go, you can go out the clinic door. People will think you needed my special attention.” She laughed happily.

“I’ll never
want
to go, but I’ll have to go out to the farm in the morning and do my chores. Remember Rolling Thunder? He gets mean when he’s hungry.”

“So we’ve got until the train goes through?”

“Ah, darlin’ girl. We’ve got the rest of our lives if you say the word.”

“What word?”

“Words. If you say you love me and want to spend the rest of your life letting me love you, I swear that I’ll take care of you and the babies we’ll have.”

“I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I want your babies. Lots of babies.”

He was sure that this was the most glorious moment in his life. His arms crushed her to him. His kisses devoured her mouth. She could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart against her soft breasts.

“You won’t regret it, darlin’. I swear it!” His voice trembled with emotion.

Nothing mattered from then on except satisfying their desperate need for each other. They swirled in a mindless vortex of pleasure created by caressing hands, lips and closely entwined limbs. When they were finally joined, it was forceful, ecstatic and more satisfying than the first time.

He murmured over and over that he loved her. He told her of the hunger that gnawed at him and the thirst for the mouth she offered so willingly.

They made love until sheer exhaustion sent April into a deep sleep and Joe into a void between sleep and awareness, dreading to hear the sound of the Union Pacific going through town. She lay molded to his naked body, her cheek nestled in the warm hollow of his shoulder. That this lovely creature loved him was nothing less than a miracle. He wanted to shout it from the housetops.

Oh, Lord. I want to give her the world.

Chapter 32

“W
AKE UP
,
PRETTY GIRL
.” Joe spoke softly and placed tender kisses on her lips.

April opened her eyes and found his face just inches from hers. She stroked his cheek with her fingertips.

“Has the train gone through?”

“Hours ago. I couldn’t leave you. I’ll wrap a big, fat bandage around my hand before I leave. Miss Nosy Davenport will think I’ve had an accident.”

She laughed happily. “It’s daylight. Rolling Thunder will be getting mean.” Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck. She was curled up in his arms, one leg sandwiched between his.

“I’ve been waiting for daylight. I wanted to look at you before I had to go.”

His eyes held hers. There was something in his face she hadn’t seen before. Love. And it was for
her.
She felt wonderfully, gloriously happy.

“Tell me what you told me last night. I’m almost afraid to believe it.” He pulled back his face, his eyes watched her closely.

“I . . . love . . . you.” She spaced the words for emphasis. His lips covered hers before she could say more.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. You are mine!” He looked as happy as a boy on Christmas morning. “When will you marry me? It better be soon because I’m going to sleep here in this bed with you every night from now on.”

“Oh, my! That will make Miss Davenport very happy.” “How about Miss Asbury?”

“I’ll be known as a fallen woman.”

“Not for long. You’ll be a respectable married woman.” “When?”

“Today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

She laughed. “That’s impossible.”

“We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

“When will you be back?”

“Two hours at the most. I’ll do my chores, then go by the farm and see Jack. Pa does only what’s necessary on Sunday.”

“I’ll cook—”

“I’d rather you stay right here in bed and wait for me.” “Oh . . . you!”

“Kiss me. It’s got to last two long hours.” His hand moved up and down her back and over her rounded bottom. The feel of her warm body against his and the scent of her filled his head. “I don’t want to go. But knowing you’ll be here waiting for me will make it bearable,” he whispered and kissed her long and hard.

She returned his kisses hungrily, feeling the familiar longing in her loins, pressing against him, her breasts tingling as they had last night when he caressed them.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she whispered and parted her lips for his kiss. His mouth covered hers and she clung to him, melting into his hard body. He kissed her quickly and pulled back.

“I’d better go while I can.”

He dressed hurriedly, leaned over to kiss her again and was gone.

April didn’t move until she heard the car start and drive away. Then she bounded out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. The cold, wet cloth felt good against her.

She could hardly contain her bubbling spirits as she looked in the cabinet and icebox for something to fix for breakfast. All she could find were potatoes, eggs, cheese and part of an apple pie. She hoped that Joe liked fried potatoes.

The phone rang while she was waiting for water to heat to make a cup of tea.

It was Mrs. Bailey, a mother with an eight-month-old baby. “He has cried all night, and when he fills his diaper, its runny. I just don’t know what to do.”

“He’s teething, isn’t he?”

“Yes, his gums are white. He’s exhausted from crying, and I’m exhausted from lack of sleep.”

“Try putting some crushed ice in a cloth and let him chew on it. Sometimes that will give relief. You can also rub his gums with the flat end of a spoon handle. If he runs a temperature, call me back and I’ll call the doctor in Mason, and I’m sure he’ll want to see him. The doctor won’t be here in Fertile until Tuesday.”

“I’ll try the ice.”

She was frying potatoes when she heard the key in the lock, the door open and footsteps come toward the kitchen. Her heart quickened. As soon as Joe appeared in the doorway, she dropped the spatula and sped to his open arms. His smile reached all the way into her heart. He was her heart, her soul. He had become so dear to her that she would never be content when he was out of her sight.

“I could hardly wait to get back,” he whispered against her mouth, then lifted her off her feet and whirled her around.

“I missed you!”

“Then you’ve not changed your mind about being Mrs. Jones?”

“Not on your life. I’m holding you to it!” She kissed his mouth. “But you’d better let me get back to the potatoes before they burn.”

“I never thought I’d be jealous of a pan of potatoes!” he complained. Then the old devilish grin came back. “I’m even jealous of this.” He plucked at her blouse. “It’s closer to you than I am.”

While eating the fried potatoes and eggs, April asked about Doc and Caroline.

“He telephoned his sister from Kansas City to tell her they were coming. Isn’t it something that you can talk over a wire all the way to Tennessee? Anyway, they boarded the train, but not before Doc took Caroline to a store and bought her a new dress, hat and coat. Doc was so proud to walk out in public with her on his arm, something he could never do here.”