Cherish (35 page)

“No!”

“Sweetheart, I won’t do it again. All right? I’m real sorry. After this, you got the reins. How’s that sound. However suits you is exactly how I’ll do things, I promise. All you gotta do is tell me what’s nice and what’s not.”

“Well, that
wasn’t
! It was horrid!”

“It’ll never be horrid again. You tell me how you want me to do it, and that’s how I’ll do it.”

She jerked and sobbed. “How do I know you’re not lying again?”

“I ain’t never lied to you. Have I?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Sweetheart, let me show you.” He remembered how he’d tugged at her with his teeth. Up until then, she’d been melting in his arms like honey on a hot biscuit. “Was it nice at first?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then? We’ll just do what’s nice for you. Nothing that isn’t, I promise.”

She parted the fingers of one hand to peer at him through the crack. “Do you swear?”

“I’ll not only swear. Can I show you?”

“Well…”

Race decided that at times like this, actions might reassure her more than words. He bent his head and very gently drew on her nipple. She shrieked, jerked, and clobbered his ear with a hard whack of her elbow. He reared back, holding the side of his head.

“
Ouch
!” he roared. “Damn it, Rebecca Ann! I know I didn’t hurt you that time!”

She was back to clutching the front of her nightgown. “You!”

Clearly beside herself, she twisted away from him and tried to crawl off, only her gown was caught under his knees. Race caught her arm and drew her around to face him. “What in tarnation’s the matter with you?” he cried, still holding his ear.

She doubled up her fists. “Don’t
touch
me! If you do, I won’t be responsible. I’ll fight the way you taught me and break your nose again! And this time, I’ll mean to do it!”

Race reared back out of her reach. “
Why
?”

“Why?” she repeated incredulously. “You try to do things like that, and you ask me why?”

“Like what?” Race was beginning to get an inkling, though he couldn’t quite believe he had it right. “Kissin’ your breast, you mean?”

She clamped her hands back over her face and shuddered. “Stop
saying
things like that!”

“Like what? Breast?”

She made a keening sound. Blue took up the lament, throwing back his head and making a little circle with his mouth, going, “
How—oooo
!”

“Shut up!” Race yelled. Blue kept howling, but Rebecca jumped with a start and started holding her breath. “Not you, honey.” Race shot the howling hound a murderous glare. “Blue! I don’t need you stickin’ your nose in this! Shut up!”

The hound broke off and whined.

Race figured he had his answer about the breast business. He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked. “Rebecca, do you got it in your head that me kissin’ you there is ungodly?”

She drew her hands from her face to gape at him in amazement. “Of
course
it is! You promised to just do it the regular way, and you
lied
!”

“What’s the reg’lar way, Rebecca Ann? I guess maybe I ain’t real clear on that.”

“You’re just supposed to do your business!”

His business? “What, exactly, is that?”

“Just doing
that
and nothing else!”

He sat back on his heels, unable to believe his own ears. “Is that what your ma told you? Honey, I think you misunderstood.”

“I did not. She was explicit and told me
exactly
!”

Race recalled all the tales he’d heard about some of the stricter Christian sects, the gloves in August, the downcast eyes. His gaze shot to her pile of black outer clothing and gray undergarments that lurked like a shadowy specter where she’d set them against the wall. A sinking sensation entered his belly.

“Rebecca Ann, are you sayin’ that the brothers in your church don’t touch a woman’s body? That they just”—he swung a hand—”
do
it and that’s it?”

She averted her face, her chin trembling. “I never got through one
line
of Keats!”

“Line of what?”

“Ma said I could pray or meditate and ignore the goings-on. I was going to think about my”—she shuddered—“my favorite poems by Keats!”

Race barked with laughter. She turned accusing blue eyes on him. He held up his hands. “Honey, I’m sorry! I ain’t laughin’, honest.”

Pulling a straight face, he moved to sit with his back against the log footboard. Meditate and ignore the goings-on? He couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh again, this time so hard he had to hold his stomach. Tears started to stream down his cheeks. “I ain’t laughin’ at you,” he managed to gasp out. “I truly ain’t, darlin’.” He swiped at his cheeks, had nearly managed to get control of himself, and then pictured Henry with the horn-rimmed glasses making love in a three-piece suit and hat. He lost it all over again and laughed so hard, his spine went limp.
He slid down the footboard and rolled over onto his side.

When at last his mirth subsided, he sighed and said, “Shit,” wondering why he’d started laughing in the first place. All in all, it wasn’t funny. The girl he loved wanted to think about poems while he made love to her, and God forbid he should interrupt her train of thought. “Well, hell.”

“Are you quite finished?” she asked primly.

Race angled his head up to look at her. She was buttoned to the chin again. “I reckon.”

“Then I shall take this opportunity to inform you that I don’t believe we suit. A marriage between us would be disastrous unless you can forgo your ungodly inclinations.”

He sat up, swiped at his cheeks, and met her gaze dead-on. “That just ain’t gonna happen, darlin’. What you think of as ungodly, I call beautiful.”

She hugged her waist and bent her head. Race could tell by the way she held herself that she’d hoped he would come to heel if she gave him an ultimatum. An ache entered his chest, for he truly did love her. Just not so much that he was willing to kow-tow to a set of marital rules dreamed up by sick-minded people. There wasn’t a spot on her that was ungodly, and there was nothing ungodly about his wanting to love every inch of her. If she believed that, she was as mixed up in her thinking as the rest of them, and she’d be a lot happier, not to mention a lot more satisfied, once he got her straightened out.

“Remember when I told you I was worried that maybe we was comin’ at this from two different directions, and it might take us a spell to find a happy meetin’ ground?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I reckon I was more right about that than either of us thought. That don’t mean we don’t suit, darlin’. That means we don’t suit
yet
. You give some ground, I give some ground. We’ll get it worked out.”

“I am
not
going to give ground on my principles.”

“Honey, I ain’t the least bit inclined to go messin’ with your principles. It’s your body I got my sights set on.”

She threw him a horrified look.

He lifted his hands, doing his best to look harmless, which wasn’t one of his talents. “We’ll work this out. Trust me.”

“How can we possibly? You have inclinations I find abhorrent!”

“Well, tell me what you expect, and let’s work on it from there.” He propped his arms on his bent knees, trying his damnedest not to think of Henry in his three-piece suit. “How does the brethren do it?”

She raised her small chin to look down her nose at him. “My mother said I was to lie still, on my back, and offer no protest. That my husband would come to me in the darkness, join me under the quilts, nudge my gown up to the area of my hips, and do his business, quickly and with every consideration for my refined sensibilities. That there was nothing much”—she gulped—“nothing much to it. And that if I so chose, I could ignore the goings-on, devoting my thoughts to prayer or meditation until he finished.”

He would not laugh. If he did, she’d never forgive him. Race stroked his chin to hide his mouth. “Well, there, you see? We got it half-licked already. At least now I know what’s allowed and what ain’t.”

Her blue eyes turned dark and bruised-looking as she searched his gaze. He truly had upset her apple cart, which was no laughing matter.

“You mean you might be willing to abide by those practices?”

“Well, now…” Race did some fast considering. “Is kissin’ like we done before all hell broke loose—is that allowed?”

“Yes.”

He kept stroking his chin. “Now do I got this right? From your buttoned-up collar to your hipbones—that’s all no-tresspassin’ territory.”

“Correct.”

“But everything from the hipbones on down is okay?”

“Correct.”

“And in the okay area, is there rules?”

She looked bewildered. “Rules?”

“You said your ma explained it all exactly. What do the brethren do while they’re goin’ about their manly business? Give me exact instructions so I don’t do it wrong.”

She blinked and shook her head. “She didn’t describe
that
part.” She flapped her hand. “They just do it—however they do it.”

Hallelujah. “So there ain’t no rules on
how
I do my manly business.”

“Not that I’m aware of. That is
your
business. The wife doesn’t involve herself with that part.”

Did she ever have a surprise coming. Race arched an eyebrow. “So I can go about my business however I want?”

She took a moment to answer. No one could ever accuse this girl of being slow-witted. She sensed the trap, but in her innocence, she apparently couldn’t think what it might be. Race felt a little guilty about that, but in his experience, sometimes a conscience was a man’s worst enemy, and if this wasn’t one of those times, he’d eat his boots.

“I suppose you may,” she finally replied. “It is your business, as I said.”

“And no complaints from you, right? Barring me hurtin’ you, of course, which I’ll take care not to do. You’ll just meditate on your poetry and not involve yourself?”

“That is my preference, yes.”

Race nodded. “Do I got your word? No involvin’ yourself. You’ll do your poetry stuff and leave me to my business, however it suits me to do it?”

“Do I have your word you won’t venture higher than my hips and subject me to vulgarities?”

“Unless you ask me to, I give you my word I won’t.”

“How can you even
think
I’d ever
ask
?”

“I’m just leavin’ it open is all. Do I got your word on your part of the deal?”

“Yes, you have my word.”

Race bit back a grin. “One other thing,” he said, holding up a finger. “How much time do I get?”

She fixed big, bewildered eyes on him. “Well, I don’t know. How long does it take?”

“Well, that there’s just the thing. Sometimes longer than others. So do we agree I can have as much time as I feel like I need?”

“I—guess so.”

Race lifted his hands. “Well, now. See there? A happy meetin’ ground.”

She glanced at the spot where she’d been lying, looking none too thrilled about returning to it. “And you promise me you’ll abide by those rules?”

“I promise. How about you?”

“I promise.” She looked dubious. “If you swear you’ll be content with the brethren way of doing it forever.”

“Unless you ask for something more, you bet. That’ll suit me just fine.”

“Swear it. On your honor.”

He held up his right hand. “I swear on my honor I’ll never lay hand or lip on you from your hipbones to your collarbone—unless you ask me to.”

“Shall I lie back down then?”

“I reckon.”

She scooted over to her spot and stretched out like a body ready for burial again, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. “Race?”

He smiled slightly. “What, darlin’?”

“Don’t forget the quilts.”

He reached behind him, grabbed the quilts, and rose to his knees to draw them back over her. “Clear to the chin?”

She snuggled all down, keeping her eyes closed as if her life depended on it. “Please.”

Race tugged them clear to her chin, then slipped under with her. “I can lay my arm over you, can’t I? I’ve done that lots of times before.”

“Yes. That should be fine.”

He curled a hand over her waist and pulled her close. “Come here, sweetheart. You’re still upset.” He reared up on an elbow to kiss her closed eyelids. “I’m sorry I
went at it like that and shocked you. You gotta know I’d never do it on purpose.”

She turned her cheek toward his lips. “I’m sorry I hurt your ear. Is it all right?”

“It’s fine.” Race moved his hand from her waist to smooth her hair back from her face. “You are so beautiful, sweetheart. Just lookin’ at you fair breaks my heart. Have I ever told you that?”

She lifted her lashes, her mouth curving in a smile. “Oh, Race.” She hugged his neck. “I’m sorry for all the mean things I said.”

He gathered her close and pressed his face to her hair, feeling as if he held the riches of the world in his arms. “Don’t even think about it. I knew you was just beside yourself.”

She pressed her body closer, fitting her curves to his hollows. He smiled to himself, remembering the time that she’d told him she had fallen from grace. His little angel was about to take a mighty long tumble.

Kissing.
Race’s lips made Rebecca feel as if as if she’d
just died and gone to heaven. Floating. Filled with warmth. Eager to feel such bliss again, she willingly surrendered her mouth to him. He didn’t disappoint her, slowly, thoroughly teasing every sensitive place, making her breathless. And once again, his chest grazed hers, the accidental abrading of her protuberances making her ache inside. But that was all right, she told herself hastily, because she felt certain he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

With each kiss, each touch, her thoughts fragmented more. Unable to help herself, she dug her nails into his shoulders, possessed by a need to hold on to him and get closer that was overwhelming and fierce. Seemingly impervious to his raked flesh, he nipped his way down the column of her neck, setting her skin afire.

“Oh, Race…oh, Race…”

“What, darlin’? Am I wanderin’ too close to your collar?”

At the question, tears burned at the backs of her eyes. He would stop. All she needed to do was ask. She could feel that in the sudden tension of his body. Why that made her want to cry, she didn’t know. Only it did.

She lightly ran her fingertips over the ridges of raw power in his shoulder, and she knew, deep inside where reason couldn’t reach, that every ounce of his strength was hers to command, that with a whispered plea, she could make him stop…or continue. She remembered last
night—how he’d suddenly launched himself on top of her. The relentless vise of his grip, the weight of his hard body holding hers down. This man could do anything he chose to her. Anything. She would be helpless to stop him. Instead he touched her as if she were made of fragile glass.

She’d walloped him on the ear with her elbow, and he had reared away, keeping his distance, as if she were a threat to him. The most beautiful part about that, what made her want to cry, was that she
was
a threat. Bless his dear heart, he would have let her break his nose rather than slap her silly, which was probably what she had deserved.
Am I wanderin’ too close to your collar
? Oh, God…She loved him so much, so very, very much. The sound of his voice was a song bursting like a glorious sunrise inside of her.

She felt his hand tighten at her waist as he trailed his lips over her cheek and found the wetness of her tears. “Sweetheart, you’re cryin’. What’d I do?” Rebecca couldn’t reply. “Should I stop?” he asked.

“Oh, Race!”

He moved his hand from her waist, slipping it between her and the mattress to draw her close against him. “What, darlin’? Don’t be scared. Is that it? I swear to God, I’ll take care with you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I love you!” She clung to his neck, pressing herself as close to him as she could get. “I’m not afraid. I just—oh, Race, I love you so much it hurts.”

He went still, as if he heard the words but was afraid to believe them.

“I love you,” she repeated. “I love you so very much.”

Something that felt like a shudder ran through his big body. He splayed his hand over her back—a hand so wide and leathery hard, she felt sure his fist could splinter wood. Yet when he touched her, he made her feel like a priceless treasure. “Ah, darlin’,” he whispered shakily. “I love you, too. With all my heart and soul. With everything I got. But it ain’t supposed to make you sad.”

“I’m not! I’m happy!”

He trailed kisses to her other cheek, tasting her tears. “Well, hell…”

He sounded so thoroughly bewildered and frustrated that Rebecca giggled. She couldn’t stop herself.

“Christ on crutches.” She felt his lips curve in one of those crooked grins she loved so much as he trailed kisses to her ear. “Am I ever gonna understand you, Rebecca Ann? Cryin’ because you’re happy. Sometimes, darlin’, you don’t make a lick of sense.”

She tipped her head to accommodate his mouth, the word “lick” making her yearn for him to tease her sensitive spots with the tip of his tongue again. As if he sensed her need, he granted the wish, finding a deliciously vulnerable place beneath her ear. Her breath snagged and her muscles felt as if they were melting. “Oh, yes,” she whispered throatily. “Oh, yes,
there
. Like that. Oh, yes…”

She felt him tugging her gown up, and for just an instant she felt afraid. But then his wide palm lightly caressed her thigh, and it felt so lovely. Butterfly touches, everywhere, until it made her feel as if her skin would turn inside out if she lay still. Her heart began to slug against her ribs like a fist, and her breath came in shaky rasps.

With feather-light fingertips, he trailed touches to the apex of her legs, dipping between her thighs to tease her sensitive skin, then leaving to trace tantalizing paths to her knees. He made her feel as if her insides were turning into hot syrup. She wanted to melt over his fingers. Just open herself to his touch and flow into him.

Suddenly she felt the quilts shift, and the next instant she felt his moist, silken lips on her thigh. Her eyes flew open and she stiffened.

So breathless she could scarcely speak, she managed to gasp out, “Race, wh-what are you—aa-aaa-ah!—wh-what are you doing?”

From under the quilts, his muffled baritone said, “My manly business, darlin’. It’s all right.”

Rebecca clamped her knees together. “Are you—sure it’s—oh, my God, what—?”

He gently pried her knees apart, and then she felt his broad shoulders working in between her legs. She grabbed hold of the headboard, so shocked she couldn’t speak for a moment. He wasn’t going to—oh, lands, he was. The tingling nerves just beneath her skin sang with delight at every caress. Only her mind seemed able to comprehend how utterly base his kissing her legs was or that she should protest.

“I don’t think this is the way—” He was tickling her inner thigh with the tip of his tongue. It was the most incredibly wonderful feeling. Better, even, than kissing. It was even better than chocolate, and that was her favorite thing in the whole world. “Race, are you—are you positive this is the way it’s done?”

“Darlin’, think about Keats. This is my business down here, not yours. Right?”

She closed her eyes. “Keats?” she said shrilly.

He pressed closer, forcing his shoulders higher. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Remember what your ma said. You just lie still and don’t pay me no nevermind.” He tickled his way straight up. She jerked and held on to the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you when I’m finished, all right?”

When he was finished? Rebecca felt a thrum of raw yearning thread through her middle. Her eyes. She was supposed to close her eyes. Only…oh, dear heaven. Keats? “Will you—will you be long, do you think?”

“Only as”—he ran the tip of his tongue down her inner thigh toward the mattress, finding skin that was so tender, her nerves leaped at every teasing flick—“only as long as it takes, swee—oh, darlin’, you are so sweet. The taste of you…I feel like I’m lappin’ honey.”

She felt his big hands cup her rump. Her eyes went wide. Oh, lands. Honey? He didn’t mean to—oh, merciful angels. He lifted her, and the white-hot wetness of his mouth surrounded her. She grabbed for breath, her lungs whistling, her arms jerking as she dug her nails into the log of the headboard. He wasn’t really doing this.

She was dreaming it, surely. No one would actually—oh, dear God, Race would.

In the next heartbeat, his tongue curled around something there. She jumped, recalling a small flange of flesh in that area that had always been so supersensitive that she’d taken care never to touch it. Race had no such compunction. He settled in there like a bee on honeysuckle. A jolt went through her whole body. “R-Race?”

His voice, when it came, felt as if it sent vibrations clear to her tonsils. “Sweetheart, this ain’t none of your concern down here. You’re just supposed to lie still and let me do my business, remember?”

“I—I can’t!”

He chuckled. This time, she was positive. The vibration went clear through her. “That’s the rule.” His tone brooked no argument. “This down here is mine to do with, however which way I want, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Well, then? You lie still and don’t concern yourself.”

After issuing that edict, he settled back in, lapping lightly at that place. She arched up. She couldn’t stop herself. Shrill little bleeps erupted from her. She clung to the log for dear life. Arched higher. Higher. “Oh, lands…oh, lands…ohhh,
mercy
!”

“There’s a girl. Give it to me, darlin’.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” Somehow—she wasn’t sure how—she suddenly had handfuls of his hair. “Oh, my God! Oh, dear heaven. I’m sorry! I’m interfering.”

He chuckled again and then splintered every rational thought in her head by drawing her into his mouth, capturing her flesh to drag it with his tongue. White-hot fire darted from his mouth into her. She dug into the mattress with her heels and pushed up, surrendering that part of herself completely, her hips moving with every draw of his mouth, her muscles jerking in rhythm to his teasing flicks. Faster and faster. Drawing harder and harder. A frightening pressure built within her, the ache growing sharper and sharper. Then, just when she felt sure she could no longer bear it, he drove harder against her, taking her with fierce pulls of his mouth, until she felt as if she shattered like a mirror, the fragments catching and reflect
ing multicolored light like prisms as they rained through her mind.

She was so precious. All his life, Race had heard the word “cherish,” but until now he’d never loved anyone so much that he’d understood the meaning. She
was
his angel—a girl made up of sunbeams and cloudy lace, with eyes like the summer sky. She was warmth and light—the tender new blossoms of spring flowers—a beautiful, perfect gift. As she experienced passion for the first time, it was as if he was experiencing it for the first time as well. And perhaps, in a way, it was his first time. Race Spencer—a hard man with an untouched heart.

Until now. This girl held his heart in her hands. She could make it sing with gladness—or bleed with sorrow. Or leap with joy with one little convulsive arch of her spine and a lift of her slender hips—as she gave herself to him.

He worshipped her.

He nearly wept at her guileless urgency and the utter trust she was giving him. No holding back. Just sweet and total vulnerability. And then he felt her shatter, her entire body convulsing, her surrender to him absolute. As she shuddered in climax, he could taste every beat of her heart in the sweet throbbing of her flesh.

Afterward, he gently soothed her sweetness with light strokes and kisses, easing her into a limp calmness, caressing her tortured nerve endings to chase away the ache. When her breathing began to even out, he rose over her. She looked up at him with her lashes drooping low, a dreamy smile on her mouth. “Are you finished?”

Race bent to kiss her. “No, darlin’. I’m just lettin’ you rest a minute before I do it again.”

Her eyes widened. “Again?”

He smiled and shifted to lie beside her, one arm holding him up so he might watch her face. He ran his hand down to the joining of her legs, delved deep with a fingertip into her hot sweetness. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders, her head falling back as she arched toward him, her breasts only inches from his mouth, the overlay of worn
cotton more tease than covering, the only question being which of them it tormented most. Even through the cloth, he could see the swollen tips of her nipples, throbbing and thrusting up, begging for his attention. His little Bible thumper’s body had turned traitor against her.

Race worked her with his hand, loving every expression that crossed her small face. The startlement. The wonder. The strain of building need. He backed off. Brought her back up. The second time when she arched her back and he glanced down to see her nipple thrusting against the thin cotton, he rubbed it with his chin. She gasped and trembled.

“Oh, yes!” she cried.

He gave her another rub. His promise not to touch or kiss her there hadn’t included his chin, after all.

She sobbed and pushed up for more. “Oh, Race, please. My protuberances!”

Her
what
? The girl had a tongue tangler for every damned thing. Fortunately, he was growing accustomed to all her highfalutin words.
Protuberances
. That worked. Beautiful little gems like that deserved a fancy name.

“Darlin’, do you want me to love ’em?”

“Oh, yes! Please…”

Race bent his head, caught her nightgown in his teeth, and dragged it up her slender body to bare her breasts.

“You gotta say it. Otherwise I’m breakin’ my word. Ask me to kiss ’em.”

The cool air turned the swollen tips as hard as little spikes. He smiled as she pushed them up at him.

“Sweetheart, you gotta ask.”

She made a frustrated sound, grabbed him by the hair of the head, and jerked him down to her. “Just
do
it!”

He figured that had “please” beat all to hell. He also figured he had a right to tease her unmercifully before he gave her what she wanted. He circled, laving all around each crest with his tongue, moving in so close he could feel the throbbing heat. Then a quick drag. Then back to circling. When he finally was aching himself for a real taste of her, he nibbled and began to suckle. To his surprise, he felt her body begin to jerk, and he realized the
little minx was climaxing. He felt the rush of hot sweetness against his hand. Damn. She was starved for loving. Twenty-one years old, and never been kissed. She was coming apart in his arms.

Race decided that anyone who had waited over twenty years for this had a right. He took her twice more with his mouth, glorying in the sweet way she trembled and gave herself to him.

When the moment finally came for him to either take her or explode from the waiting, Race rose over her, caught her behind the knees, and pressed his hardness against her slick heat. She opened heavy-lidded eyes to gaze up at him, clearly too sated and exhausted to even realize he was about to hurt her. The coward in him wanted to just drive it home and get it over with, but the man who loved her with every beat of his heart couldn’t break her trust like that.