Trouble in Texas (22 page)

“So why didn’t you leave him?”

“I finally did, but not before he had practically beat me to death. I don’t even remember
how I made it to the car. I drove for a good fifty miles until I was pulled over by
the sheriff.” She glanced over at Elizabeth. “Joe was a friend of your grandmother’s.
He took one look at me and brought me here.”

“And you stayed?” Elizabeth asked. “But didn’t you hate men?”

“With a passion,” Baby said. “I couldn’t even be in the same room with them at first.
But then Minnie talked me into singing. Music was my salvation. Still, it took years
before I decided to try sex again.” She laughed. “Jasper was his name—the sweetest
little farmer you’d ever want to meet. He even proposed to me, but by that time, I
wasn’t willing to leave Miss Hattie’s.”

Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling and tried to place Baby’s story inside the image
she carried around with her of the henhouse, but it just wouldn’t fit. Where were
the sordid details her mother had hinted at? The naked women running around? The sex-crazed
men?

“And Sunshine?” Elizabeth asked. “How did she end up working here?”

“Sunshine has never worked here,” Baby said. “Your grandmother went to Dallas on a
shopping trip and found her living on the streets—too drugged out to even know her
name. She brought her back to Miss Hattie’s, and she’s been here ever since. Your
grandmother gave her a new story. A new life.”

There were no words to express all the feelings that crowded up inside. So Elizabeth
just lay there and looked up at the ceiling. After a few moments, Baby spoke.

“I realize it’s hard to understand. And I’m certainly not going to justify anything
that has taken place here at Miss Hattie’s. Men
have
come here for sex. But Hattie’s is so much more than that. It saved my life and helped
me become the type of woman who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants.” She paused
for only a breath before she continued. “So what do you want, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She reached out and patted her hand. “You told me that Brant hasn’t had enough. Now
the question is, have you?”

B
RANT COULDN’T SLEEP.

His shoulders and back stung like hell from his sunburn, and his ego stung like hell
from a blunt-talking librarian who didn’t understand the first thing about men.

Or maybe she knew too much.

What was he doing? Since when did he pant after women like a dog in heat? He hadn’t
even chased after Amanda. Their relationship had just evolved from their friendship.
But friendship wasn’t what came to mind when he thought about Elizabeth. Steamy sex
did. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was still getting Elizabeth confused
with all his fantasies about Miss Hattie.

He rolled over onto his stinging back and stared up at the painting. He didn’t know
if it was a trick of the moonlight that filtered in through the curtains or his own
sleep-deprived mind, but Miss Hattie’s eyes no longer looked seductive as much as
accusing. Almost as if she didn’t care for the way he’d treated her granddaughter.

“Fine,” he said. “I admit it. I was a little bit of an asshole tonight.”

“True, but I wasn’t exactly nice.”

Brant blinked at the painting before his gaze moved over to the doorway where Elizabeth
stood. He sat up, and his heart started to pound so loudly he had trouble hearing
her next words.

“So you couldn’t sleep either?” She came closer, her steps hesitant.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. It was a really stupid question, and he wished
like hell he could take it back. He didn’t care why she was there. He was just glad
she was.

She cleared her throat, something he suddenly realized she did a lot. “I brought you
the first journal. I’m not quite finished with it, but I thought you’d like to take
a look.” She stopped about a foot from the bed. Close enough for him to smell the
scent of lilacs. Close enough for him to see the outfit she wore.

“What do you have on?” His gaze swept up her long, bare legs to the satin shorts that
flared at her hips, then up the matching top that clung to the jut of her nipples.

“Baby loaned them to me,” she said. “I think she calls them baby dolls.” She smoothed
a hand down the satin in a way that took all the moisture from Brant’s mouth. “Which
makes sense given that her name is Baby. Here,” she held out the notebook, “I’ll just
let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

He reached out to take the book, but instead took her wrist.

“I-I shouldn’t have bothered you,” she stammered as he pulled her closer. “I-I just
thought that I’d—oh!” The diary thumped to the floor, and she tumbled onto his lap.

“Beth.” He didn’t know why he said her name. It just came out. Like an exhalation.
Like a whispered prayer.
His lips covered hers as the desire that had goaded him all day grew thick and intense.
Still, he refused to give in to the pressing need. Instead, he reined it in, cradling
her jaw between his hands and sipping at her mouth as she had sipped the expensive
champagne just that evening.

Brant didn’t know how much experience she’d had with kissing, but if it was limited
she was a fast learner. After only a few sips, she ran her hands through his hair
and sucked him into the heat of her mouth. Her tongue was hesitant at first, but grew
bolder with each stroke of his. He eased her top up, his hand gliding over her breast.
The sweet flesh seemed to swell in his hand, and he squeezed gently before strumming
her nipple with his thumb.

Her moan had barely died in his mouth when she reached up and covered his hand with
hers to stop him.

He pulled back from the kiss. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. It felt wonderful.” She cleared her throat, and he knew she
was blushing. “It’s just that I was hoping that this time I would get to touch you.”

The words were as hot as they were sweet, and Brant didn’t waste any time taking her
up on the offer. Easing her off his lap, he stretched out on the bed.

He expected hesitant caresses. What he got was a thorough inspection that left him
struggling to retain control.

“What’s this bump?” she asked as she pressed against a rib.

“Football injury,” he croaked.

“Star quarterback?” She caressed the spot.

“No, bench-warming tight end.”

“Hmm, tight end?” Her hand settled over his pectoral muscle, causing it to twitch.
“I can see where that would fit.” She dipped her head and covered his nipple in wet
heat.

Brant tried to regulate his breathing, but it was a lost cause. Virgin or no, Elizabeth
had a talent for seduction. Every stroke of her tongue, every suck of her mouth, had
his breath chugging in and out worse than the time Beckett had talked him into running
a marathon.

She didn’t stop with one nipple, but moved on to the next. When she’d finished turning
it into a tight nub of need, she nibbled her way down his ribs, trailing a line of
fire to the satin sheet that spilled over his hips. Without hesitation, she pulled
back the sheet. Since the waistband of his briefs had irritated the sunburn on his
lower back, he’d gone to bed naked. He actually found himself blushing as she studied
his bobbing length.

“Oh. It’s not as big as I thought.”

He lifted his head. “Excuse me?”

She giggled. Something he couldn’t remember ever hearing her do. “I mean, it’s mammoth,”
she corrected.

“That’s better—” The words ended on a groan as she encased him in her fist. He expected
her to be unsure, but Elizabeth never reacted the way he expected. And he suddenly
realized that was what he liked most about her.

She caressed him from tip to base before her mouth settled over him, all hot and mind-blowingly
wet. She was awkward, but it was her awkwardness that turned him on the most. Elizabeth
might not be experienced, but she was thorough. She left no area unexplored and tried
out different techniques until she found the one that had him moaning the loudest.

Then suddenly, when he was just about to go over the edge, she lifted her head and
gazed up at him. “I think we should give it a shot.”

Brant blinked. “What?”

She sat up. “I think it might fit. And if it doesn’t, at least we tried.” When Brant
started to say something, she held up her hand. “I know. You think I should save my
virginity for someone special. But what if no one special shows up, Brant? What if
I die without ever knowing what it feels like to have a man deep inside me?”

The “deep inside me” part added another inch to Brant’s erection, and he groaned and
closed his eyes. What was he doing? He had no business being back in bed with Elizabeth.
His insane behavior today had more than proved that. If he wanted to keep his sanity,
the best thing he could do would be to climb out of bed and never look back.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not when he opened his eyes to
find Elizabeth completely naked and bathed in moonlight. And not when she took him
in hand and kissed the very tip of his penis. And not when just the thought of another
man being “deep inside” her made him completely and utterly insane.

“Come here,” he said as he guided her mouth away from him and pulled her back up his
body, enjoying the cool slide of her soft skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
He kissed her gently on the mouth. “There’s no going back.”

“Positive,” she said before deepening the kiss.

A wave of heated excitement coursed through him, but he took things slow, enjoying
the feel of her lips against his and the softness of her breast in his palm. He continued
kissing and fondling her until she hugged his thigh between her legs and bumped her
hips against him. Then he rolled her over and kissed his way down her body to the
patch of golden brown hair. He planned on taking his time, trying to alleviate any
fear she might have with
passion. But it turned out that Elizabeth was less fearful about losing her virginity
than he was. After only a few flicks of his tongue, her thighs tightened around his
head, and she tugged on his hair.

“Please, Brant,” she whispered, “I want you in me.”

With a knot of apprehension tightening his stomach, he sat up and reached for his
wallet on the nightstand. “If I hurt you, you need to tell me.” He pulled out the
condom. “Whenever you want to stop, we’ll stop.” He might’ve continued to ramble if
Elizabeth hadn’t taken matters into her own hands. Once he was suited up, she wasted
no time in pulling him down to her warm, waiting body.

He eased in inch by inch until sweat broke out on his brow and his arms started to
quiver. She was so damned tight that it was hard not to drive deep inside her. He
stopped halfway in to catch his breath and regain some willpower.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” she said. “In fact, it just feels like a tingly stretching.
Although I think it would feel better if you moved.”

It would feel better all right. Brant just wasn’t sure he could stand it feeling much
better. He pushed in a little deeper, then slowly pulled back out. He figured he could’ve
kept up his measured movements if Elizabeth hadn’t started participating. With a tilt
of her hips, she pushed up and took him deep. The tight, hot sheath and friction had
him driving into her with a force that banged the headboard against the wall. He would’ve
apologized if she hadn’t wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Don’t stop,” she panted.

That was all it took for his lust to take over. His hips pumped against her, and she
met each thrust with one of her
own. He tried to hold off and wait for her, but it was no use. Within seconds, he
was spiraling down into an amazing orgasm. He drove into her one last time, riding
the intense sensations out. It was a long ride. Just before the last tingle died away,
Elizabeth climaxed, tightening around him and sending one last shower of sparks raining
over him.

He rolled off her and flopped over onto his back. Sleep deprivation from the last
two nights had finally caught up with him, and he could barely keep his eyes open.
He had just tucked an arm around her waist and pulled her close when she giggled.

“Well, what do you know?” she whispered against his chest, “we fit.”

Brant woke to warm sunlight. He squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust. It didn’t
take him long to figure out where he was, and even less time to look around for Elizabeth.
He thought she’d be long gone before the sun came up, scurrying back to the security
of Baby’s room. Instead he found her leaned back on the headboard, reading Miss Hattie’s
journal.

He lifted his head and she glanced up from the book and smiled. It was almost as bright
as the sun that streamed in through the window.

“I take it that you’re in a better mood than you were in yesterday?” he said with
a smile of his own.

She blushed. “As long as you don’t expect me to iron your shirt, we’re good.”

“I would never even consider it.” He laughed and plumped the pillows up so he could
sit next to her. “So did you discover anything?”

“A lot, actually,” she said. “I didn’t realize the hens
were so charitable. Did you realize they supported local orphanages and helped with
the war efforts?”

“War? What war would that be?”

“I don’t know.” She flipped through a few pages. “It doesn’t really say.”

He relaxed back on the pillows, his gaze falling to the edge of the sheet that inched
down her bare chest. To keep from devouring the soft swells like a ravenous dog, he
tried to distract himself. “Read me something.”

She went back to the page she was on, and started reading in a voice that was soothing
and articulate. A librarian voice if ever he heard one. It was sexy as hell.

“ ‘The hens went to town today. The women ignore us, and the men avoid us like the
plague. It’s funny when you think about how friendly they’d been the night before.’
” Elizabeth turned the page. “ ‘J.D. stopped by tonight. I like J.D. He has big feet
that smell like stagnant water after a good rain, but he’s sweet and kind. They say
his wife—’ ” She paused and started to close the book, but he stopped her and leaned
closer.