Bootscootin' Blahniks (31 page)

She admonished the warring factions inside her soul. She was flirting with fire, unsure which — the fight to keep Zayne in her life or the flight booked to end their almost fantasy — was winning. Her mind singed her heart, heating up her resistance. Who in their right mind would want to become a permanent fixture of the Vaughn family?

“Welcome to the General Jackson.”

A deep, almost gruff voice cut the hormonal-induced tension sizzling between them.

“We’re named after General Andrew Jackson and built in the likeness of the first steamboat to operate on this river in 1817. I’m Captain O’Toole.”

Zayne made the requisite introductions. As the captain lifted her hand and kissed it, Roxy smiled, more tickled by how uneasy the captain’s gesture appeared to make Zayne. After the dinner show, she’d have to make it up to her man. But how the hell she’d keep her white-hot desire leashed ’til then wasn’t going to be easy. Let alone how she’d squelch her feelings for good tomorrow.

On the way home from the dinner cruise, the silence in Zayne’s truck weighed heavy on him. Glad his dad had bought the V-8 instead of the V-6 to haul the load, he fidgeted in his seat.

It wasn’t the show in the boat’s two-story Victorian theatre that had him riled up, although it was fantastic. And he wasn’t wired from the sugar-filled Oreo cheesecake he and Roxy shared during intermission. It was the treat of taking her home with him that bound him in un-chivalrous knots.

The closer he got to the farm, the tighter his jeans stretched across his legs, damn near thwarting circulation to his groin. Although certain areas of the region were pumping, all engines revved.

Lucky for him, Roxy didn’t want to go home and face the mother she didn’t want him to meet. Lucky for her, he’d be glad to put her up for the night. And it wouldn’t take much for him to permanently extend her stay.

“You’re awful quiet,” he said as he turned off the county road and into the farm’s lane.

“Sorry. I’m mulling over some odds n’ ends I’ve got to make decisions about,” she said.

Such a tiny voice for a tiger, Zayne thought, heightening his curiosity and protective instincts.

He’d never seen her
this
worried. And he’d never known her to be indecisive. Roxy always knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it.

If he didn’t know her better, he’d swear that fear had dug its claws into the natural confidence coloring her beautiful face. And he wasn’t about to let someone or something rob her of her signature spunk. She might be a tough woman, but when her bravado wasn’t enough, Zayne would be there.

“It probably isn’t my business, but I’m going to pretend it is.” Before pulling to a stop in front of the house, he reached across the seat and took her hand.

“C’mon, Princess, I’ve got all night to take your worries away.” He shut the motor off, took the keys out of the ignition and opened his door.

“And I’m not going anywhere in the morning and neither are you until you’re okay.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss then got out of the truck.

He went around the front of the Ford then opened her passenger door, helping her step from the running board to the ground. “You can stay here as long as you like. I enjoy having you around.”

“Be careful, Cowboy. I might take you up on that offer.”

A smile slowly formed across her perfect lips, a smile Zayne hoped to keep in place for the rest of the night.

Not able to wait until they reached the house to taste her delectable grin, Zayne lifted her chin. The moonlight blanketed her silky skin with a tantalizing glow.

“You’re beautiful, Roxy.”

He touched his lips to hers and drank in their sweetness, not sure he could keep from going after more. Melting into her, he tickled the roof of her mouth with his tongue, teasing her and preparing her for what was ahead. Feeling her relax into him sent a rush of adrenaline straight to his heart. Like he’d known the first time she’d been in his home, he’d never be able to walk away from her. He could
never
not want her.

Barely able to keep his hands from underneath her skirt, Zayne struggled to fit his key into the front door. Opening the door, he swept her into his arms and across the threshold, vowing to never let her step over it again without her knowing she was his.

Kicking the door shut, he fought to keep from lowering her to the floor and taking her there. But he wanted their first time to be sweet and perfect. Not that his reckless original thought wouldn’t be one to save for future use. If, however, Roxy didn’t keep her hands away from his groin, he’d be forced to abandon the nice guy plan.

As he carried her through the foyer and down the back hall leading to his room, he kissed her neck. Her fruit and nutty scent rocked him with desperate desires he had to fulfill.

While imagining the parts of her hidden under her clothing, he nipped at her throat with his teeth. Maybe he’d ask her to show him where she’d rubbed her intoxicating lotion. One by one, he’d seek out each location. Better yet, he’d get the brand name of her potent elixir and put it in a few hot spots of his own choosing.

Reaching his room, Zayne ignored the light switch and carried her straight to his bed. Laying her gently onto the center of his comforter, he pushed Studley Pete off the end of the bed and lay next to her.

Disregarding Pete’s whines and whimpers, Zayne looked at Roxy’s incredible curves bathed in the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window. He’d often dreamed of having her here, ready and waiting. But seeing her now, his body touching hers, stirred him deeper than he’d imagined possible. Roxy was a piece of his life he could no longer live without.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you now or later?”

He had to ask. He wanted her just as ready as he to take the next step. He wanted to make her happy, making sure she enjoyed the moment with him, not lost in troubles waiting to rise with the sun.

“All I want is you. And maybe a rain check for your mind and ears tomorrow.”

She slid one hand between his legs, massaging him until he thought he’d bore straight through his jeans.

“If you insist,” he said.

He drew her free arm above her head, then ran one lazy finger down her side and up over one of her breasts until her nipple hardened under his touch. Peeling away her blouse from just the one breast, Zayne traced its hard, ripened tip through the lace denying him full access.

Carefully slipping the fabric below her nipple’s crimson swell, Zayne circled the exposed flesh with his teeth. He flicked his tongue over her then gently blew her dampened skin.

Feeling her quiver and gasp for breath sent him into hyper drive. Wanting to saver each experience instead of rushing fast and hard toward sanity’s edge, he struggled against his lust-inspired adrenaline.

But when Roxy lowered his zipper and slipped her hand into his jeans, Zayne’s control was torn away.

With his mouth, he went to work on her other breast and let one hand slide under her skirt, his fingers walking dangerously up her legs then between her thighs. The heat that waited beckoned him between her moist folds and closed-in around him.

“Tease me, Zayne,” she whispered, her breath ragged, her voice insistent. “And let me take you in my mouth.”

The sound of her sensuous requests broke him free from the chains of virtue, releasing an animalistic instinct to ravish her.

Zayne did as she asked. He rose above her, placing his hard length within reach of her lips then found her wet and quivering for his touch. Looking down into her eyes as they went to work on each other’s fantasies, he found an inferno of passion and mischief. As she took him deeper into her mouth, stroking and coddling him with her tongue, Zayne lost all sense of reality. Riding high on the euphoria she created, he gave her complete command.

Before he no longer had control over the timing of his release, he gently pulled away from her and parted her legs. “It’s my turn to pleasure you, Princess.”

He lowered his head, dipping his tongue between her moist reservoir, tasting her sweet desire until he felt her flesh burn.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked, waiting for her invitation before filling her with a force he hoped to build-on in their future.

“I’ve been ready for a long time, Cowboy.” Roxy took him, hard and wet, inside her, closing-in around his pulsating length, holding him captive in her inner sanctuary, sheathing him in ecstasy.

Slowly, in unison, rocking to an electrifying carnal dance, Zayne’s body began moving with hers. Robbed of breath and reason, he rode harder. As she moaned and cried out for more, he tightened his hands around her hips and ass, pushing her to take him even deeper.

With the moonlight glistening off her drenched body, and with her eyes begging him to take her higher, Zayne emptied his passion into her, giving her everything he had. The moment made only sweeter as she crested the peak right behind him.

Laying his head on her damp chest, he felt her heartbeat in more than his ears. Her strong, steady pulse was a sweet lullaby, luring his heart and capturing his soul.

It didn’t matter to Zayne anymore whether his home was in the city or on the farm. Home was wherever he and Roxy chose to be…together.

F
ollowing the best night of his life, one he hoped to repeat indefinitely, Zayne sat in the family room in his dad’s worn down leather recliner working on his second cup of coffee. Roxy was still curled up in his bed, a sweet image Zayne would never get out of his mind. Knowing she needed the extra sleep and not wanting to wake her, he’d slipped out of bed and settled into the recliner to watch the sunrise.

While giving Studley Pete an ear scratching, making amends for banishing him from his bed the night before, Zayne looked at the picture giving him fits on the credenza. Its well-worn frame was mysteriously shrouded in the sunrise’s purple-red haze. As if God were pointing out ‘yeah, that one’.

Zayne had had too great a night to focus on the unpleasantness of that particular photo, but neither the sun nor God was giving up on burning the image deeper into his mind.

The life-altering experience he’d just shared with Roxy was at the opposite end of the spectrum from the defeating blow he’d sustained the day the photo was taken.

Zayne stared hard at the maple-edged frame of his past.

He’d tried for years to shove aside the loss he’d been dealt that day. He’d replayed the event over and over again hoping to find a different message. But the lesson he’d learned still strangled his ego.

There’d been people in his life, like his mom, who bolstered his esteem until nothing seemed out of his grasp. Now he had Roxy who gave him a fierce sense of a life filled with the unwavering love Zayne had seen between his mother and father. A degree of happiness he’d never imagined he’d find.

If only he could put the cloud of his relationship with his dad to rest, understanding it for what it was and not for what it had taken from him.

There he was. A nine-year-old boy. A miniature version of his father, the man who proudly flanked his side. Waiting for his mom to snap the picture, his smile masking his hurt, Zayne had patiently gone through the motions of the event. He’d tried desperately then, like he was now, to separate his heart from the consequences of his dad’s harsh mindset.

The sun’s early morning haze turned into strong, white hot rays and blocked the contents of the photo. Zayne bit back the flood of regret hammering the dam he’d constructed to hold in his emotions. No amount of light could wipe out the glaring frustration and fear he’d stomached that day. And nothing could make up for the fact he’d buried his dad without ever patching their differences.

Yes, he’d done everything his dad had asked of him that long ago summer. He’d entered the 4-H categories his dad thought would best showcase his son’s future agricultural enterprises. Following his dad’s instructions, he’d worked his garden hard. Despite the heat, despite the horrible bugs inhabiting the landscape, despite the gritty grime Zayne despised, he’d never faltered in his steadfast efforts.

His sweat and sacrifices had paid-off. He’d won every ribbon, beat his competition, advanced to the state fair level and whooped ‘em all, earning the coveted Tennessee State Grand Champion honors, never won by any child other than a Baudlin.

There the two of them stood, Zayne and his old man, surrounded by blue and purple ribbons. Prize-winning samples of their harvest-ready tomatoes filled baskets and buckets at their feet.

Zayne swore he could still feel the pride-fed pressure of his father’s hand clasped over his shoulder as they waited for his mother to focus the scene in her camera lens.

His eyes glued to the picture, Zayne rolled his neck and head, trying to shake off the heavy nostalgia. The apparent joy of the scene was nothing more than a masquerade of the moments leading up to the shot. A day that turned out to be one of his worst childhood memories. A day that forever changed his feelings for his dad.

Fortifying his resolve to move past that part of his life, Zayne swallowed a cold, dark swig of his coffee. He had to come to grip with the fact he was never meant to please his father. He wasn’t his father’s son in anything other than appearance, a genetic code they shared ingrained in his features. But a likeness ending with the sharp angles of Zayne’s jaw.

Just like he’d tried to tell his father that day, Zayne loved him and hoped the man could accept him for who he was. And that wasn’t a farmer. But Zayne had failed getting across his message then like he’d done ever since the day captured by that Kodak moment.

After that, Zayne had never again asked his father to accept his artistic and performance talents. Likewise, his father never mentioned them either. Zayne pursued his dreams, never again as an entrant in the state fair produce divisions, but made a name for himself in the advertising world as well as on the dance floor.

With his mother’s blessing and support and with his father’s dismissal and excuses to work the farm instead of his son’s future, Zayne had followed his passions.