Killjoy (31 page)

“You stay put until I get the key from under the porch step.”

She couldn’t have moved if her life had depended on it. Her legs felt like rubber, and she thought she just might start hyperventilating. Fortunately, she had her wild thoughts under control by the time he’d unlocked the front door and turned the lights on inside the cabin. She got out and helped him carry in the bags.

The cabin was charming and smelled of pine and Lysol. A stone fireplace faced the front door and was flanked by two wicker chairs with red-and-yellow-checked overstuffed cushions. The hunter green sofa had seen better days, for the arms were frayed, and the fabric was faded, but it looked very comfortable. To the right of the front door was a round pine table and four single ladder-back chairs.

Beyond the table was a narrow kitchen with a back door. She placed a bag of groceries on the counter, then walked through the living room to the other side of the cabin. There were two doors along the short hallway. The one on the left opened into a bathroom. At the end of the hall she opened the other door and stepped inside. Soft light spilled into the spacious room. A double bed with an old iron headboard was covered with a multicolored quilt.

The longer she stared at the bed, the faster her heart beat. She could hear John Paul putting the groceries away, knew she should probably help, but couldn’t seem to make herself move.

“It’s just a bed, for Pete’s sake. What’s the big deal?”

Disgusted with herself for being so nervous, she grabbed her duffel bag and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

She hadn’t bothered to pack a pretty nightgown or a robe. After she dried her hair and brushed her teeth, she put on a pair of skimpy pink panties and her ratty old Santa Clara T-shirt. It was at least three sizes too big for her. It hung like a tent and ended just above her knees.

Staring into the mirror, she took inventory and decided she came up lacking in the feminine wiles department. For the first time in her life, she wanted to look pretty. Boy, wouldn’t Carrie have a good laugh now? She was always criticizing the way Avery dressed, and for once, Avery had to agree.

There wasn’t anything she could do about her appearance now. With a sigh, she put her bag in the corner of the bedroom so she wouldn’t trip over it, then walked into the living room just as the front door opened and John Paul came inside. He shut the door, bolted it, then turned around and froze.

“What happened to you?” she asked. He didn’t answer her. “You look like you showered in the dirt. What happened?” she repeated.

John Paul couldn’t make himself stop staring at her legs. Fantasies were raging in his mind. “I put the car in the barn, and I thought . . . the oil . . . the tires . . .”

“Yes?”

“What?”

He finally forced himself to look into her eyes, knowing he probably resembled a buck caught in the headlights. When he’d noticed her standing in the doorway, his knees damned near buckled. That well-scrubbed look was intoxicating. She was simply gorgeous. Did she have any idea of the power she had over him?

“What about the oil and the tires?”

“That’s right.”

He was blathering like an idiot, and she was fully responsible for his radical drop in IQ. He strode past her, muttering incoherent words as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

She took a bottled water out of the fridge, turned the lights off in the kitchen and the living room, and then went into the bedroom. She kept telling herself to relax as she folded the quilt. She found clean sheets on the closet shelf and put them on the bed with a lightweight blanket she pulled out of the cedar chest. She climbed on top, scooted to the middle. Straightening her back, she folded her legs in the lotus position. She tried to clear her mind and concentrate on her breathing. Just as she was about to sit down in her imaginary porch swing without a care in the world, she was interrupted.

“Going to your happy place?”

Her eyes flew open. John Paul was standing in the doorway watching her. He wore a pair of shorts and nothing else. He hadn’t even bothered to button them. He had taken the time to shave, she noticed, and he’d washed his hair too. There were big drops of water glistening on his tanned neck and shoulders.

Sitting on the bed definitely put her at a distinct disadvantage. If they were going to approach their situation as adults, she wanted to be on equal footing. She scrambled to get off the bed.

“Yes, I was,” she said. “I was trying to relax.”

He yawned loudly. “Avery?”

“Yes?”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other, his arms loosely folded across his chest. She tried not to stare at the dark swirl of hair around his navel.

“Am I sleeping on the sofa or in the bed?”

Did she have the courage to be completely honest with him, to tell him what she wanted? Put up or shut up time, she thought a little frantically. She cleared her throat, then whispered, “In bed . . . with me, if that’s what you want.”

Damn it, she sounded vulnerable, maybe even a little afraid. She couldn’t quite manage to look into his eyes. “If you want,” she repeated hoarsely.

“Yes, I want.”

John Paul took a step toward her but stopped when she put her hand up. “Not so fast, Renard.”

“What?” he warily asked.

“There are a couple of ground rules we need to go over first.”

She wasn’t kidding. He would have laughed if she hadn’t looked so nervous. “Ground rules? Like no hitting below the belt? That kind of rule?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he asked, “Are we going to box, or are you going to let me—”

“I’m keeping my T-shirt on. Agreed?”

“Okay, if you want to, but if you change your mind and want to take it off, that’s fine too.”

“If I want to, I will, but I don’t want to, and I probably won’t. Agreed?”

At this point he’d lost track of what she was negotiating. “Yeah, sure.”

He took another step toward her. “I’m not finished.”

He grinned. “I didn’t think so. Okay, what else?”

“You have to use protection. I can’t have children, but we haven’t had blood tests, and we . . .”

“I planned on using protection,” he said when she stammered to a halt.

“You planned?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled the condom out of his pocket and tossed it on the bed. “Anything else?”

“That was pretty presumptuous.”

“Avery, if I don’t touch you pretty soon, I’m gonna go nuts, so hurry up and finish the rules.”

Her heart was racing. “If you’re disappointed . . .”

“I won’t be.”

“But if you are, you keep it to yourself. Don’t complain to me.”

“Honey, are you always this uptight before sex?”

“Do you agree?”

“Okay. I won’t complain.”

“This isn’t funny, John Paul. I’m serious.”

He’d waited for as long as he could. “Now it’s my turn,” he said as he grabbed a wad of her T-shirt and pulled her toward him. “You are underneath here somewhere, aren’t you?”

He let go and put his arms around her waist. His hand slipped up under the fabric and splayed wide across her back. She didn’t try to wiggle away when his fingers touched her scars. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck just below her ear.

Shivers raced down Avery’s spine. Her hands had been balled into fists, but as he tickled her earlobe with the tip of his tongue, she began to relax. His sweet warm breath against her sensitive skin only made her shivers intensify. She could feel the strength, the power of those hard, steely muscles under her fingertips. How could anyone this strong be so very gentle? She sighed into his neck and dropped her head on his shoulder.

“Pay attention, sweetheart. I’ve got some ground rules too.”

She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed how incredibly beautiful they were? When he smiled, they lit up.

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

Trust him? She was falling utterly in love with him. Of course she trusted him. She was terrified of admitting it, though. “That’s not a rule.”

He wouldn’t let her dodge the question, and when she tried to distract him by pressing against his groin and kissing him, he shook his head. “I already know the answer, but I want . . . no, I need to hear you say the words.”

“You are the most opinionated, obstinate, exasperating man I’ve ever known, but almost from the moment we met, I felt this strange connection. It’s as though I’ve waited all my life to feel so safe . . . and free. I can’t explain it,” she whispered.

He tilted her chin up, brushed his mouth over hers, and then whispered, “Then trust me. That’s my rule. You have to trust me.”

She thought she understood what he was asking. And he was right. Love and trust went hand in hand.

It was now or never. Please, God, don’t let him be repulsed. She stepped back into the soft light from the bedside lamp, waited until he had let go of her, and then, before her courage completely deserted her, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. She turned so that he could see her ravaged back.

Most of the damage had been done to her lower spine. The angry, ugly scars puckered her skin. She was afraid to turn around, to look into his eyes.

“Sugar?”

There was laughter in his voice. Confused by his reaction, she stood as stiff as a corpse with her hands at her sides staring at the wall.

“Yes?” she whispered.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m a little more interested in the front right now.”

“What . . .”

He gently turned her around and pulled her up against him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “Damn, I’ve been dreaming about this. It’s better than the dream, though. Much better.”

“But my back . . . You saw . . .”

“We’ll get to that,” he promised. “I’ve got a lot of territory to cover,” he whispered as he kissed a tear away from her cheek. “But in my present condition, I’ve gotta prioritize.”

Before she could argue, or worry, or cry, his mouth took absolute possession of hers in a kiss that was sinfully carnal. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth in a ritual of lovemaking until she was trembling with desire.

His hands were everywhere, caressing, stroking, teasing, as his mouth slanted over hers again and again. He rid her of her inhibitions, and she eagerly kissed him back. She stroked his chest, loving the feel of his coarse, dark hair under her fingertips.

He growled low in his throat with pleasure when she tweaked one of his nipples between her fingertips, and so she did it again.

They were both panting for breath when he ended the kiss and stepped back. He let his shorts drop to the floor, staring into her eyes, reveling in the passion he saw there.

Avery held his gaze as she slid her hand down to remove her panties. The look of surprise when she realized they were on the floor made him smile over his handiwork.

She let him have his moment. “You’re good,” she whispered shakily.

He followed her onto the bed. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he leaned up and said, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

His face was taut with passion. The way he was looking at her made her feel bold. “Neither have you,” she whispered back. She moved restlessly against him, her hands slowly easing down his sides. His body was as hot as his gaze.

John Paul loved the way she touched him. Hell, he loved everything about her. She made him crazy. She pulled him down for another kiss, and this time he let her be the aggressor. Their tongues dueled as their hands learned the secrets of each other’s bodies.

When she touched his erection, he thought he might just lose it then and there, and he tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t. He could barely breathe because of the ecstasy she evoked. His hand slipped down between her thighs, his fingers caressing her intimately until she arched off the bed and cried out.

He held off as long as he could until he was desperate to be inside of her. He hungrily kissed her soft, sweet mouth as his knee nudged her thighs apart. Gripping her derriere, he leaned up so that he could watch her. In one slow push, he entered her, then plunged deep.

She arched up against him at the same time, crying out in rapture as she wrapped her legs around his thighs and squeezed him tight.

Capturing the sides of her face with his hands, his mouth covered hers and his tongue sank into her warm sweet mouth. He took his time. Long, slow thrusts that cost him dearly. Beads of perspiration covered his brow, and as he made love to her, he realized it had never been this incredible before. Never.

Avery was overwhelmed by the sensations rushing through her. They were so intense, so new. She couldn’t let him slow the pace any longer. She came undone in his arms, wild, more demanding, her nails scoring his shoulders as she met his thrusts with equal passion.

Driven to please her and give her fulfillment before he claimed his own, he tried to slow down, but she would have none of it. Their lovemaking turned uncontrolled, primitive, almost savage. He was consumed.

Avery could feel her control vanishing, but she wasn’t afraid. It was the most amazing feeling to be so uninhibited and to let herself go without fear or worry. She knew she was safe in his arms, and as she reached the precipice and her body began to shiver for release, she arched up against him. Wave after wave of undiluted pleasure coursed through her body as she clung to him.

Impossible to hold back, his orgasm was triggered by hers, and he climaxed deep inside of her, clenching his jaw in ecstasy.

They stayed joined together as one for long, blissful minutes. Their breathing was ragged, and neither one of them had the strength to move. Their hearts pounded in unison. He buried his face in her silky hair, closed his eyes as he inhaled her wonderful fragrance.

“Damn,” he whispered. She’d taken every ounce of his strength. His bones felt like liquid as he tried to move so he wouldn’t crush her.

She obviously didn’t mind his weight because she squeezed him when he shifted his position, and whispered, “Not yet.”

Had he been too rough with her? The thought popped into his head and anchored there. He could have been more gentle, but she’d been so wonderfully uninhibited, he’d gone a little crazy.