Holding on to Heaven (8 page)

The gray eyes softened. "No, you wouldn’t have stayed away from me and I couldn’t stay away from you." He shrugged. "Don’t ask me to explain this draw, this pull; I can’t."

"You’re arrogant, and you’re wrong, Creed Gatlin. I’ll consider this a dalliance, a one-time indiscretion, and believe me, it won’t happen again."

He pulled the pants over his hips while sitting on the ground, stood, and reached her in three long strides. Placing his hand on her forearm he looked into her eyes. "Are you going to add lying to cheating?"

She dropped her eyes. "Oh, that. Yes, I promised myself I’d tell you the truth the next time I saw you. I-I drove Adobe into your horse on purpose."

Silence stretched between them. "I don’t care about the race, but I won’t allow you to say what happened between us was nothing more than a dalliance to you."

She couldn’t meet his eyes again, she’d cry if she did.

"Lauren, look at me, tell me what passed between us meant nothing to you."

She summed up the situation in one word. Bleak. She’d given herself to a man who’d leave soon. Tears threatened, but she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him anyway. Adobe whinnied and she looked his way. "I have to go. When do you leave?"

"Three days from now."

He chased her like a leaf when she walked to Adobe and mounted. Before she could ride off, he grabbed the horse’s bridle. "Meet me here tomorrow."

"Are you insane? Let go of my horse."

"Not until you promise you'll be here."

She looked at the sky and blew air through her lips. "I won’t say yes and I can’t say no. It isn’t as easy for me to up and leave every day. People ask questions."

"Try, can you at least promise you’ll try?"

Without answering him, she slapped the reins against Adobe’s neck and rode from the clearing.

* * * *

Near the porch, Jonathan's horse snorted when Lauren rode into the ranch.
Damnation, he’s still here.
Wet hair clung to the sides of her head and her clothing was crumpled from the dampness. She'd have to bury her undergarments, wouldn’t be able to explain the torn camisole to Aunt Estelle.

Hank grabbed the bridle when she rode into the barn and looked up at her hair. "You must have gone for a swim."

"Yes, I did." She glanced toward the porch. "I thought Jonathan would be gone by now."

"Your aunt’s been entertaining him."

She dismounted, walked toward the house and forced a smile.

Her aunt sprang to her feet. "What happened, did the horse throw you?"

"No, I took a swim and fell asleep in the grass."

"Oh, dear, come with me. We’ll get you cleaned up."

Lauren called out over her shoulder as Estelle led her away, "I'll be down soon, Jonathan."

"You’re a mess, dear." Estelle shoed her up the stairs and called out for Nelly. "Please bring the tub and hot water to Lauren's room."

Lauren entered her room, her aunt all but chasing her down. "I'm fine, a little tired after my ride."

Hands on her hips, Estelle's Collie-colored eyes raked her over. "I was born at night, Lauren McCain, but not last night. How did leaves get in your hair? You're clothing is, well, it's in a deplorable state. Take those breeches off, the blouse too and hand them to me. Nelly will put them to soak." Her aunt held out her hand, waiting for her to undress right there.

"I'll wait until Nelly brings the tub and then I'll undress."

Estelle squinted and cocked her head. "Something is amiss, but I don’t believe you’ll share it with me."

"Nothing happened." Lauren rubbed her temples.

"Why the frown, dear?"

"My head throbs and now I must entertain Jonathan. That’s enough to make me frown."

"I can’t ask him to leave now. He’s been waiting for hours." Her aunt toyed with her fingers, her voice low. "I asked him to stay for supper."

Lauren groaned.

Estelle stepped aside when Nelly entered, but wasn’t about to concede the conversation. "Be kind to the man, he adores you."

"Yes, Aunt Estelle."

Clasping the copper tub with both hands, Nelly settled it near the hearth and shot Lauren one of her pursed-lip faces.

Damn the all-seeing-all-knowing Nelly.
Biddle
entered with buckets of water. She’d have to talk to her aunt about the elderly man toting scalding water up the stairs.

Estelle chased the others from the room. "Hurry along now, dear. I’m off to entertain Jonathan."

Her aunt closed the door and Lauren crossed the room to lock it. She slipped out of the pants and the blouse and next, the undergarments. She gasped. Bright red blood stained the pantalets. Hers? She dangled the camisole in the air between two fingers. Ruined. Shredded. Destroyed. She walked to the hearth, tossed them into the empty belly, and struck a match. Smoke billowed into the room, panicking her. She rushed to the window, opened it, and cocked an ear toward the voices below—Estelle's and Jonathan's. In seconds, the garments evaporated and the gray haze cleared from the room.

Lauren breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her achy body into the water. Every muscle screamed out in protest¾her legs, arms, back, and the tender flesh between her thighs. Recalling her encounter with Creed, a shiver ran down her spine. She picked up the bar of soap, worked it into lather and wished she could wash away the massive faux pas right along with the grime.

The thought of Creed leaving crushed her. Perhaps she could talk him out of it. The dismal thoughts multiplied. The man wasn’t the type to commit, wouldn’t ask for her hand in marriage even if he didn’t leave with his brother. She’d never felt so hopeless.

She rinsed off and donned clean clothing. From the porch below, Jonathan’s voice drifted upward and through her window. In addition to entertaining him, she’d have to bear up under Aunt Estelle and Nelly’s inquisitive looks. With one last look in the mirror, she quit the room and hustled down the stairs.

Her heart soared with the thought of meeting Creed tomorrow. For a short time, all would be well in her world.

* * * *

The stars favored Lauren the following afternoon. Aunt Estelle and Uncle Mason left for a visit with Ethan and Ansonia Garrett after the noon meal and wouldn't return until dusk. Lauren had rubbed her forehead, claiming the lingering headache would prevent her from enjoying herself and might ruin the day for all.

About to ride from the barn on Adobe, she heard Nelly's voice in the still afternoon air. "Where is ya goin', Miss?"

"Good God, Nelly, you frightened the wits out of me!"

Nelly rocked back on her heels. "I thought ya had a headache?"

Anger came suddenly. "I don't have to answer you, but if you must know, I'm going for a ride."

"Uh-huh."

"Move aside, and I'll thank you not to tattle to Estelle about my comings and goings."

"Ya gonna be sorry takin' up after Creed Gatlin. He’s wild as the wind, won't take to a woman who wants to tie 'em down." Nelly's brown eyes softened. "I don’t want your heart broke."

For a moment, Lauren felt like crying, wanted to jump from the horse, run into Nelly's arms and pour her heart out. Confession was good for the soul, and the fact she’d given herself to a man who’d soon be gone made her feel lower than a beetle. The thought of not seeing him again, not telling him goodbye tore at her heart. Her eyes darted about the barn.

Nelly stepped aside. "Go on then, but don't say I didn't warn ya."

"What about Aunt Estelle?"

Nelly ran a finger over her lips. "I don’t know nothin'."

Lauren dug her heels into Adobe and sped down the long dirt drive. The sun hung low on the western horizon as she rode through the field, down the narrow path, and then came to a halt near the pond. The faint aroma of tobacco drifted around her. He was here, somewhere. All her defenses evaporated when a strong arm pulled her from the saddle and drew her against a hard chest. His mouth devoured hers. Exquisite torture. She threw her arms around his neck, tangled her fingers in his long hair and clung to a delirious state of desire. Like before, warmth spread throughout her body, trickled down her spine. His kiss deepened and she felt a powerful need to have him inside her again.

Creed gave a muffled groan, backed her against a tree and tugged on her shirt. "Please don't tear my blouse again."

He took his time unbuttoning her shirt and pushed it from her shoulders, his hot eyes burning into hers. She felt the hard bark against her skin when he slid the pants from her hips. She moved against him, the wildness in her blood flowing like liquid fire. He hadn't spoken a word.

Laying siege to her body, his hands caressed her skin, every inch. He eased her to the ground and slid between her legs. Breathing heavy, he stopped for a moment and stripped off his shirt and trousers. The prickle of thick, black hair on her breasts heightened her arousal.

Creed was right. This lawless passion between them was inevitable from the moment they met. She’d known it, but couldn't bring herself to admit the truth. Now she lay beneath him, writhing under the touch of his fingers sliding into a private place no decent woman would mention.

A cry of pleasure broke from her lips when he entered her. She stared at the sculpted bones of his face, the dark shadow of a two-day stubble and his full, generous mouth. A patient God had created the man.

His eyes burned hot with hunger, and for a breathless moment, their eyes locked and held. He pierced her soul and she his. Not one sweet word fell from his lips, not one tender act did he surrender as he thrust deep inside. She didn't care. Their need was so base, tender words would seem out of place. She suffocated under the weight of his body, drowned in the taste of his mouth and the musky scent of his skin. She wanted more and more.

She met every thrust with one of her own. Brilliant strains of color flashed behind her eyelids. Her body floated to another realm, another time. Skin-on-skin, their bodies met in a blissful cadence of abandoned joining.

In the peak of their bliss, he called out her name¾the first word he'd spoken since she rode into the clearing. He collapsed on top of her, but she pushed him off and rolled to the side, stunned by the primeval force of their mating. She heard his breath, harsh and ragged beside her, but was too stunned to speak.

His arm came out and he pulled her against his chest. "I think I just died."

"Do you always take your women with brute force?" she asked, trying to steady her own breathing.

"I was about to ask you the same." He said it as if he knew she relished whatever he gave.

"I'm not a stalwart woman of the plains, you know. I was raised in a refined, gentle society."

He pushed her back from his arms and looked into her eyes. "I didn't hear cries for mercy, but rather moans of—"

"Oh, shush, you fool." She looked at him and found him smiling. "I bet you know nothing about making love to a woman with tenderness."

She knew the moment the words fell from her lips she’d said the wrong thing. He ran his thumb across her lower lip. "I know how; do you want me to prove it?"

He kissed her, so soft her heart splintered. Her limbs felt like soggy bread, her brain like corn mush by the time he finished with the seductive, tortuous assault of her senses. Sh
e wrapped her arms around his neck and ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. His body trembled and a moan came from the back of his throat.

He pressed his hand against her back and pulled her deeper into the kiss, pulling back long seconds later. "I thought I was supposed to show
you
patience and tenderness."

"You are," she said. "I'm setting the tempo."

His smile touched her heart. "Okay, I'll let you lead to a certain point, but remember, you challenged me."

She tangled her hand in his hair and slipped the other into his hand. Her lips claimed his again, soft and yielding. She probed with her tongue until he opened his mouth and he rewarded her with a low growl.

"Okay, that's enough, my little tormentor." He gripped her shoulders, pushed her onto the grass and loomed above her. "Close your eyes, Lauren, and don't open them. Just feel my touch."

"No." She gave a half-laugh.

"You don't trust me? You dared me to love you patiently. I’m about to do that if you’ll allow me to."

"I'd have to be a fool to trust the wild, dangerous Creed Gatlin."

"Know this, Lauren, I'd rather cut off my right hand than harm you."

"You wouldn't be able to use that pistol you always holster then."

"Are you going to lie back and let me bring you pleasure or are you going to talk me to death?"

"All right, but I warn you, I'm ticklish."

"You are? God, I wished I'd known that." He ran his finger across her hips. "Are you ticklish here?"

She sucked in a breath.

"Close your eyes, Lauren."

Her body trembled when he brought his hand lower, but she obeyed and wondered how she'd be able to stand this delicious torment.

"I want to see every inch of your sweet body in the daylight, commit it to memory."

Her eyes flew open. "Don't talk like I'll never see you again."

"Close your damn eyes and lay still."

"Yes, master."

"You're so damn beautiful."

Her heart constricted and tears swarmed behind her closed lids.
Please don't let me cry now, God, please.
She didn't move, didn't speak, but sucked in her breath, the anticipation killing her. A tremble coursed through her when he nudged her knees apart.

"Trust me," he whispered. "I can take you higher than before, to a place where no one can venture but us."

"Yes." Her skin burned beneath his touch. "Take me there with you, Creed."

He nibbled his way up her thigh, licking and sucking her skin. She clutched at the grass beneath her hands and arched her back. He flicked his tongue over her nub and she shuddered. Heat radiated from her core and an unnamed muscle low in her groin clenched tight. Good God, what had she agreed to? She'd soon be begging for him to take her.