Lacy (7 page)

Her heart had fed for years on the hope of
someday having Turk for her very own. She went to sleep dreaming of how it
would be if he kissed her, if he loved her. She planned a future that was based
on loving him, that included marriage and children. And now, none of it would
ever happen. He had nothing to give. She didn't know how she was going to stay
alive...

Footsteps sounded behind her, but she wouldn't
look up. She knew she was in disgrace. Shame washed her in blushes. She
couldn't face him.

"You little fool," Turk muttered. He
knelt beside her, forcing her onto her back with hands that had no gentleness.
He glared down at her, feeling impotent, hating the indignity of her behavior
for both of them. "This won't help, Katy."

"Leave me alone," she whispered,
shaking. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Go away and let
me be by myself."

He caught her wrists and pulled her up, holding
her in front of him, his gray eyes fierce as they held her tear-soaked green ones.
"Listen to me, young lady. I came out of the war alive—when more than any
damned thing, I wanted to die. Your brother forced me to go on; he got me off
the bottle and gave me a job and I owe him for that. He said hands-off where
you're concerned, and by God, hands-off it's going to be. Do you understand
me?"

"You don't need that for an excuse,"
she shot back. "We both know you don't want me!"

"Do we?" he asked under his breath.

The way she looked was tearing him apart.
Loyalty to Cole stopped him only for a second. He'd watched her, too, although
he hated admitting it. He'd watched her and wanted her for a long time, and
only his conscience had kept him from running screaming to her room in the
darkness. He wanted her. God, he did! And she wanted him, too. He could see it,
almost taste it. Would it be so wrong, just one time, just once to hold her and
touch her and end the exquisite torment of desire she aroused in him?
Afterward, would she hate him? He tried to think of afterward, but the scent of
her—the vulnerable tenderness in those big green eyes—made him reckless. Oh, to
hell with it! She was going to give in to somebody, maybe that lousy gangster.
So why should he hold back? At least, he wouldn't hurt her....

His hands went out to her hips. In his kneeling
position, he drew her roughly to his body and pressed her belly into his. He
watched the shock in her eyes dilate the pupils until they were black, and he
laughed bitterly as he felt her body stiffen in the blatantly intimate embrace.

"Do you feel that, Katy? Has your Chicago gangster taught you what it means?" he asked suggestively, dragging her hips
slowly against the hard thrust of his to let her feel graphically the tangible
proof of his desire.

Her nails bit into the hard round muscles of his
arms through his brown-patterned shirt and she trembled. Her eyes were on his
mouth now, because what he was showing her embarrassed her.

"I've seen you in your room at
night,"he said his lips against her forehead, his voice husky and rough,
"standing in front of the curtains to undress, your arms lifted, your
breasts straining against those thin gowns you wear. And I've gone running into
town to have a woman, to forget, to get rid of what you've done to me."

"I didn't.. .know," she whispered, her
voice as unsteady as his. She could feel her breasts swelling against him, even
through the two thin layers of fabric. His chest was warm and hard, and she
felt the cushy springiness of hair that must cover it.

"Does he make love to you, that slick
gangster?" he whispered.

"Not—not yet."

"Are you going to let him, Katy?" he
asked under his breath.

"Yes!" she said recklessly. "Yes,
because you won't!"

"Oh, but I will, tidbit," he breathed,
bending. His hands slid down her hips to her waist, then up still farther to her
unbound breasts. He cupped their small softness, taking their warm weight, his
thumbs teasing the nipples hard. She bit back a cry, and he slid his mouth down
to hers to take it into the warm darkness past his lips.

It was the first kiss, the very first one she'd
ever shared with him. Her eyes closed, her head went back to give him full
access. Her mouth opened hungrily, eagerly, letting his tongue probe inside,
letting it tangle with her own in the hot, still darkness of the barn.

His fingers had a faint tremor now. She felt
them on the buttons of her dress. She stiffened, but she didn't stop him. This
was all she'd have of him when she left with Danny. Because she was going.
After this, after what she'd told him, after what she was going to do with him in
this dark barn, she'd have to leave.

"You know what this is going to lead
to?" he asked, his mouth poised just above her own as he found the last
button at her waist.

"Yes," she said, shaking. "I'll
be.. .leaving with Danny," she told him. She would, she'd have to, because
of what was going to happen now. She'd have to ask Danny to take her away,
today. He would, she knew. She couldn't tell him why, but he'd do what she
asked. Meanwhile, she wanted this man obsessively. And these few minutes with
him, even without his love, would last all her life. "You don't have to
love me. Just be my lover. I'll live on it.. .all my life!" Her voice
broke. "Because I lied. I do love you. I always have, always will. I love
you, Turk!" Her voice broke as his hands moved.

"You little fool! You're not old enough to
know what love is. This is just sex," he whispered angrily. But it didn't
feel like just sex as he pulled the fabric slowly away from her pretty pink
breasts and peeled it down to her waist, his darkening eyes sensuous on the
creamy flesh with its dark pink tips gone hard with desire. "And speaking
of little.. ."he murmured, reaching out to touch the tips with warm, slow
fingers, watching her body tauten and tremble, her breath indrawn sharply.

She let him lay her down, let him remove the
dress and the chemise and the garter belt and hose and shoes, until she was
nude under the dark warmth of his eyes and the scent of her own body filled her
nostrils.

"Cole and I used to talk about women when
we were overseas," he whispered, kneeling over her as he stripped off his
shirt. "He said that your grandfather was a full-blooded Comanche, and
that the old man used to say that Indians could smell a woman. Now I know what
he meant." He tossed his shirt aside and reached for his belt, smiling
sensually as she watched him. "Don't turn your face away, Katy," he
said gently as he began to lower the tight jeans and shorts he wore under them.
"You let me see you. Now I'm going to let you see me."

Her eyes widened as the jeans slid away from his
body.. .and she saw for herself the wild difference between man and woman,
between male and female.

"My God, what an expression!" He
laughed softly as he moved away long enough to remove the rest of his clothing.

"I've never seen a man...like that,"
she whispered as he stretched alongside her.

"Not even the Chicago hood?" he
taunted. "Oh.. .no," she said, her voice faltering, her eyes widening
as he loomed above her.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you too
much,"he said softly, Cole's warnings and his own misgivings drowning in a
passion too-long denied. His hand smoothed down her body, feeling the softness
of her breasts, brushing over her belly and down to the exquisite softness
below it. He touched her with blatant intimacy, and she flinched and caught at
his hand.

"Shh," he whispered. He opened his
mouth on hers, tasting its soft trembling, and ignored the dainty little hand
tugging halfheartedly at his fingers as he found a moist opening and began to
play around it.

Her body arched and her voice broke on a faint
little cry.

His lips lifted until they were just brushing
hers. "I don't have anything to use,"he whispered. "And I'm just
not confident enough to try rolling away from you in time. So we're going to
make love this way. I'm going to be your first man, but not technically. Do you
understand? I'm going to fulfill you without the risk of pregnancy, and then
I'm going to show you how to do it to me."

"But..." she protested as his fingers
moved again. She cried out, gasping, as he found more sensitive tissue and
began to stroke it.

"Look at me," he whispered as he
increased the pressure and the rhythm, holding her shocked eyes. "Let me
watch you."

Her face went bloodred as he stroked and
tormented. She began to writhe helplessly, and his dark eyes were all over her,
watching her breasts swell and tauten even more, watching the restless
movements of her long, elegant legs, hearing sweet, whimpering sounds that
aroused him unbearably.

He was hurting. Worse. Dying. He grasped one of
her hands and pushed it against his swollen flesh, wrapping it around him,
holding it there when she would have jerked it away.

"God, I hurt," he whispered, his voice
tormented even as his hand grew more bold where it touched her. "Like
this... Help me!"

He taught her the movement, whispered explicit,
embarrassing instructions that she was too aroused to protest. She touched him,
stroked him, closed around him, and felt him throb. Her eyes looked up into
his, and he saw her pupils beginning to dilate.

"Turk!" she cried out, her voice
frantic, rasping.

His free hand was behind her neck, holding her
still, his other hand feverish, his eyes shockingly thorough as he held her
wild gaze. "Now," he whispered roughly. "Feel it, Katy. Feel it.
Feel it, and let me watch!"

Spasms of hot lightning shot through her
virginal body. She arched up against that tormenting hand and cried out,
forcing him to fulfill her. Her body went into convulsions, and he watched,
feeling them as his hand probed gently past the maidenhead. He shook all over,
and in that moment of feverish arousal, forgot caution.

"To hell with this!"he groaned. He
forced her back into the hay with the hot pressure of his open mouth. His body
rolled onto hers and he thrust her legs apart with his hand. He went into her
with rough, piercing motion, burying himself, and she was so involved in her
own culmination that she didn't even feel pain. She welcomed him, arching up to
his hard, hot body, her hands finding his hips, her nails digging in.

He rocked furiously above her, his breath
dragging out in gasps, his thighs shuddering as he arched down again and again,
his eyes on her, his jaw clenched with the most exquisite pleasure he'd ever
had.

"Take me inside," he whispered, his
voice strained, deep with mingled arousal and passion. "Take me,
Katy!"

It happened to her again. The whispered words,
the rough motion of his body, the feverish rhythm with which he drove into her
made it happen again.

She closed her eyes and arched her head back
with a peculiar little cry, her nipples hard and pointing. One of his hands
swallowed one of them roughly. His mouth forced hers open and penetrated it in
the same motion, with the same rhythm, as his body. She heard the noise of the
sliding hay under them, smelled the hot, pungent smell of their union, heard
his heart slamming in his chest, felt the wiry roughness of his body hair
against her soft skin. And then he cried out, with such achingly wild pleasure
that her eyes opened and she looked up, seeing him arched above her, his neck
corded with muscle, his face violently red, his eyes closed, his teeth
clenched. He convulsed again and again with rippling muscle, and she looked
down to where they were locked together and watched as he suddenly drew back
and covered her body with his. She felt a wetness on her belly after his body
shuddered and then collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath. "Oh,
God," he breathed unsteadily. "I hope it was in time! I couldn't
stop...!"

Her hands touched him with wonder. He'd said
that he wouldn't and then he had, suddenly, as if he hadn't been able to hold
back. Her eyes closed as she drifted in the soft aftermath, a little sad
because she knew that this would be the last time, the only time. Because she
loved him, and would lose him. He had no heart to give her, only a body that
knew no emotion past fulfillment; any woman would have done.

"Are you all right, Katy?" he asked,
lifting his sweaty head to look at her with soft concern.

"Yes, I'm all right," she replied,
with the shreds of her pride. She even managed a smile, but she couldn't quite
look at him.

"And this is why I wouldn't touch you
before," he said gently, watching her move slowly away and start putting
her clothes on again. "Because afterward comes shame.. .and then
guilt."