Conard County Spy (18 page)

He shrugged his good shoulder. “Like most kids, I guess. The only thing that griped me was...” He caught himself.

“What? Just say it.”

One corner of his mouth twisted upward. “My dad used to tell me to give glory to God every time I succeeded at something because it was God's doing.”

“But?”

“But everything I did wrong was my own dang fault.”

She caught her breath. “That's awful,” she murmured.

“I don't think he intended it that way, truthfully. He wasn't a cruel man. But I kinda grew up thinking my successes were God's and my failings were my own.”

That would sure ding any kid's self-esteem, she thought. No pride in doing something well, but all the blame when something went wrong? Inside her, something clicked.

“So how about this?” she said. “Stop blaming yourself for me being in the middle of this. I put myself here. I won't say I'm enjoying every second, but I didn't have to ask you to stay here. I didn't have to insert myself. That wasn't your fault.”

“Thanks. But maybe at its root, it is. Maybe I did something wrong without knowing it, and now it's catching up to me.”

That did it. She jumped to her feet. “The only thing I see here is some major butt-covering by some people who are probably responsible for all this.” She knew she was talking too loudly, too emphatically, but didn't care.

“I hope we find out,” he said.

“We probably will, one way or another. Has it occurred to you that you're not responsible for ensuring that everything in the world goes right, that the planets continue to revolve around the sun?”

“Do they?” Then he amazed her by laughing. “You're a beautiful woman, Julie Ardlow. Your students are blessed to have you.”

“Don't make fun of me!” Tension, tension of all kinds, was making her irritable and edgy. She was shocking herself because she wasn't generally a snappish person. But she was snapping now.

“I'm not making fun of you,” he said flatly. “I was telling the truth as I see it. Isn't that what you want from me? Truth?”

“Yes, dang it. Truth.”

“Then I've been giving it to you. I've explained why I can't let feelings take over. Maybe I've had to do that enough over the years that I've become crippled in some ways, but it's still important. It'll remain important until I deal with this mess. I need my head to be clear. But you keep distracting me.”

God, that made her feel awful. She was distracting him with her whining, her criticisms, her demands for his attention, even with her inexplicable need to have sex with him. What the hell was happening to her? She couldn't even understand herself, and usually she felt pretty comfortable with who she was. It was as if this experience was turning her into someone else.

“Julie?”

“I'm sorry. I have no business giving you a hard time like this. I should shut up.” And go crawl away into her bedroom and just leave him alone. Didn't this man have enough on his mind right now?

“No, don't shut up. Express yourself. This situation is difficult enough without you bottling everything inside.”

“But you have enough on your mind. You don't need me adding to it. It's just that...” She finally turned to stare at him, realizing that she was devouring him with her eyes. Somehow the man she had once thought looked ordinary enough to pass anywhere unnoticed no longer looked ordinary to her.

Crazy thoughts were seeping into her mind. Memories of his brief hugs, of the way his hard body had felt against hers. His scent, uniquely his own, yet utterly masculine. The brush of his flannel shirt against her cheek. The way his skin had felt when she seized his hand to kiss it.

How long had it been since she had felt like this, as if she stood on the cusp of a wonderful experience, as if every cell in her body was crying out for this man's touch? Everything else was slipping away as her body called out. She needed strong arms around her. She craved this man's hardness against her and inside her. She hardly dared hope he would give her what she wanted. He'd ignored her blatant invitations so far. But oh, how she ached for him, for his skin against hers, his weight on her, his mouth and hands exploring her.

A drumbeat of desire began pounding in her body, seeming to fill her ears until she could hardly hear. The ache between her legs consumed her universe. Nothing existed except her hunger for Trace. Suspended on the knife-edge of anticipation, hoping against hope, expecting rejection, fearing rejection, she waited. Helpless, defenseless, so very vulnerable.

“Ah, God, Julie,” he whispered.

She thought she saw the flare of recognition in his gaze, a flare that might reflect his own desire. But what if he didn't want her? What if all his evasions had been because she'd thrown herself at him and he just didn't want her?

Just as fear began to conquer her desire, just as she felt she might shatter into a million pieces, he came to her. Cradling her cheek in one hand, he looked directly into her eyes. Reading her, she supposed. Seeking her certainty.

She had never been so certain in her life, at least not for years now. She needed this. As her desire seemed to suck the last air from the universe, leaving her breathless and shaking, he wrapped his left arm around her and drew her up hard against him.

Then his mouth swallowed hers, feeling as if it swallowed her entire being. His tongue, with absolutely no gentleness, plunged into her mouth, claiming her with his demand.

Oh, it felt so good to be wrapped in his embrace, so good to feel a man's strength surrounding her once more. It had been so long, and she hadn't realized how much she had missed this.

But it wasn't just a hug. It felt supremely important that it was Trace hugging her. She wondered if he felt the same, and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to get him even closer. They'd both been alone too long, she thought hazily. Too long.

Then the world spun away as heavy heat focused in her very core, demanding more, demanding answers from him, answers only he could provide.

When he tore his mouth from hers, they were both panting. She opened her eyes to a slit and saw him through her eyelashes. He looked different, as if some deep tension in him had let go. Relaxed.

“Trace...” She whispered his name, afraid he would withdraw.

He touched a finger across her lips. “Shh,” he murmured roughly. “We'll talk later. For right now...heaven.”

Heaven, indeed. When he pulled back a little, a shaft of fear pierced her, then vanished as she realized he was tugging her toward the bedroom. She didn't care which one. His sheets would smell of him now, and that appealed to her.

Inside his darkened room, he drew her close once more for a feverish kiss. “So sweet,” he muttered.

Sweet? It felt hot, his mouth like fire on hers. With each plunge of his tongue, he seemed to drive the fire deeper into her until she burned everywhere.

Then he eased back a bit. She wanted to snatch him closer, and opened her eyes reluctantly. “Trace?”

“I can't be graceful about this,” he said, his voice husky. “Not now. It's hard enough to get my own clothes off.”

So he wasn't getting ready to change his mind. Far from it. Her personal imp sprang to life, reminding her that despite everything she still had one. “Well, I can do something about that, gorgeous.”

Odd, but she had never undressed a man before. They'd been the ones in a rush to pull clothes away, and then when the relationship had become less fresh, undressing had been something she'd done for herself.

This was new. She smiled and reached for the buttons on his shirt. She'd had no idea what to expect, but what she found deprived her of breath once again. A smooth, expansive, well-muscled chest, as if despite all he'd been through he was taking care of himself. She felt a little shudder run through him as she began to ease the shirt off his shoulders.

She froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” He sounded almost winded, and she smiled inwardly. Clearly she was not going to take this ride alone.

As the shirt fell to the floor, she answered another craving by running her hands over him, feeling him against her palms, savoring his warmth and surprisingly silken skin. As her palms passed over his small nipples, hard now, he shuddered again and a groan escaped him. Delighting in the power he was giving her, in the ability to make this self-contained man give himself up to her, she returned to those nipples again and again until finally she leaned in and sucked on each. As she did so, his arms snapped around her, pulling her as close as he could.

“Tease,” he muttered.

Then, inexplicably, a happy laugh escaped her. “Can't take it?”

“I'm about to erupt.”

So was she. She could feel it coming, building, like the hum of a generator ramping up. Want, need, passion were becoming a storm inside her.
Dally later
, she thought with the last bit of her brain, and bending, she tugged his sweatpants and undershorts down until he could step out of them.

Then the world froze again for one crackling moment while she drank him in. Every line of him struck her as perfect, the long, leanly muscled legs of a runner, the chest and arms of a man with strength. Even his injured right arm remained strong, as if he had kept working it through all the pain.

And his erection. A thing of male beauty, stiff and proud. She dropped to her knees and ran her tongue over him, then cupped his testicles in her palm.

A groan escaped Trace, then with surprising strength, heedless of the pain it must have cost him, he pulled her up and pushed her back. “Witch! It'll be all over before it starts. And don't you dare laugh.”

But she did, and watched a grin start to spread over his face. How had she ever thought him ordinary?

“Strip,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to demand.

She guessed it was at this point. She wasted no time pulling off her sweat suit and underclothes, figuring from the sound of him that he'd about reached his limit. Next time she'd tease him more. Next time...

But next time vanished as he urged her onto the bed. “Damn. Condom.”

She waved to the bedside table. “A kindergarten teacher is prepared for everything,” she said, listening to her voice crack with eagerness. She wanted him in her and on her right now. No more dallying. She almost hated that condom, but pushed herself up enough to help him with it.

“Sexy,” he muttered, then he fell onto the bed beside her, propped himself on his elbow, and began to drag his good hand over her, finding every hill and hollow, teasing her nipples to eager, exquisitely sensitive nubs. But it was amazing how quickly her patience died. Not now. Now she just wanted culmination the fastest way she could get it, as if this moment had been building in her forever.

As if she had been waiting for this man forever, like some Sleeping Beauty who was now only discovering that she had never been truly awake before.

“Trace, please...”

* * *

So that's how she wanted it. Delight exploded in him. No finessing lover, just hard, quick and right now. Holding himself back had been almost impossible from the moment he'd given in to her, but now he simply wanted to bury himself deep within her. Raw, as she'd said. Basic. Need. Now, while there was still time.

The urge for life, to live, had been growing in him. After all the years of thinking of himself as expendable, he no longer wanted to be that way. He wanted to taste the mysteries, the fruits, the joys of life, lived to the fullest without being on an adrenaline edge.

He wanted the fantastic normalcy of making love to this woman, of sharing the ultimate pleasure with her. Of carrying another person with him to the greatest peak a human could reach.

But he paused just a little longer, filling himself with the beauty of her lying there. Even in the dim light he could see how superbly she was formed. Breasts, just the right size, begged to be kissed and touched. Large nipples seemed to reach for his mouth, erect and ready for his tongue and teeth. Her waist tapered down to hips that flared invitingly, a cradle to hold a man. Auburn hair grew thickly at the apex of her thighs, a nest concealing her most sensitive places. Below, her legs might have been created for a dancer, exquisitely formed with pretty knees, tiny ankles, and feet that could not have been shaped any better.

There would be time to adore all that later, he promised himself. But the hammering of passion pushed him, so strong now that he was barely aware of the pain that still pounded him.

Then she raised a hand, gripping his shoulder until her nails dug in a bit. The message was clear as she parted her legs, giving him the oldest of all invitations.

Her body begged for him, and his cried out,
Now!

Propping himself on his elbow, he slid over her. At once her legs rose to lock around his hips and draw him in. Electric shocks ripped through him, driving everything else far away as he slid into her. She was damp already, and so, so warm. He felt her clench her muscles around him, pulsing in an ancient rhythm that drove him to the edge of madness.

Lowering his head, propped on his elbows, he found one of her nipples, drawing it into his mouth and sucking on it in time with the pumping of his body. The universe had shrunk to their points of contact, yet expanded so much he felt he encompassed all life with his hunger and passion.

Pressure inside him built. He lifted his head, gritting his teeth to hang on just a little longer. He wanted her with him in that perfect instant of complete union. Images of her body floated through his mind, driving him harder and harder. Feeling her arms close around him as her legs had brought them so close he could no longer tell they were separate beings.

The tempest swept him along as if he were a leaf, carrying him where it would, but always higher and higher until he felt as if he were nothing but a huge ache, the prisoner of its winds.