Soul Deep (15 page)

He rode through it, kept his rhythm steady,
her muscles clenching around him, drawing him over the edge. Orgasm
rushed through him in a surge of blinding pleasure, searing him to
his soul, his body shaking as he spilled himself inside her.

He gave himself a moment to catch his breath,
kissing the tears from her cheeks, knowing without her needing to
tell him why she was crying. She’d been afraid she’d lost this part
of herself, but the two of them had proved that wrong.

Aware that he was still on top of her, he
began to move.

She tightened her arms around him. “No. Not
yet.”

“I’m not too heavy?” He outweighed her by at
least sixty pounds.

She smiled a sleepy smile, her eyes closed.
“Not at all.”

He rested his head against her breast, closed
his eyes, listened to the soft thrum of her heartbeat, awash in
soul-deep contentment. When he’d been a younger man, he’d thought
the notion of a man and woman becoming one flesh was nothing more
than words—fine, poetic words, to be true, but just words. It had
taken him years to understand how his sexual bond with Theresa had
changed him.

Now, lying in Janet’s arms, he felt changed
again—lighter, more alive, bound to her well-being and happiness as
if it were his own.

His penis went soft and began to slide from
her body.

She whimpered in protest. “No!”

Chuckling, he rolled onto his back and drew
her into his arms, resting her head on his chest. “Don’t worry,
angel. There’s more where that came from.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Janet awoke to the delicious sensation of
Jack’s callused hand sliding over the bare skin of her ass.

“Good morning, angel.” His voice was deep and
sleepy. He nuzzled her ear, his hand squeezing her buttock then
delving between her thighs from behind.

“Good morning.” It felt wonderful—his fingers
teasing her, sliding inside her, his erection pressing hard and hot
against her.

He reached around to cup her breast, tugging
her nipple to a tender point, the contact sending sparks of heat
deep into her belly, making her inner muscles clench.

“Shouldn’t you be up at the high pasture?” It
was hard to think.

“I’m taking a day off.”

“Good.” She burned for him already. “Fuck
me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nudged himself into her,
thrusting slowly until he was deep inside her, his testicles
brushing against her buttocks, the rhythmic penetration of his cock
driving her straight toward orgasm.

“
Jack.
” She whispered his name, tried
to reach for him, wanting to touch him. But in this position, with
him behind her, almost on top of her, she could do nothing.

“Just lie there and enjoy.”

If he’d been another man, his words might
have been a meaningless boast. Oh, but he knew his way around a
woman’s body. He picked up the pace, forsaking her breast to reach
beneath her and play with her clit. She fisted her hand in the
sheet, the sensations he caused both unbearable and sweet.

Faster. Harder. He felt so good inside her,
like steel in velvet, thick and hard.

Her hands bunched into fists, crumpled the
sheet, beat against her pillow.

“God, woman, you feel so good.”

She found herself arcing her lower back,
trying to get more of him, her body teetering on the edge of bliss.
And then it hit her, orgasm washing over her like a sunrise,
scorching and bright. She bit her pillow, cried out, awash in
pleasure as he maintained the rhythm, driving her climax home. Then
he shuddered and moaned out her name, his breath hot against her
nape as he came inside her.

For a moment, they lay there, both of them
breathing hard.

“I wish I could wake up like this every
day.”

“You could.” He ran his fingertips in lazy
lines over the curve of her hip.

She smiled, remembering that he’d offered her
a job. “Is that an employee benefit here at the ranch?”

He chuckled. “Not for most of the staff. Good
God, now you’ve planted an image of Chuck in my head that I’m going
to need a century to recover from.”

She laughed, rolled over, wrapped her arms
around his neck. “Your men will say I slept my way to the top.”

“Jealous bitches.” He kissed her nose. “Don’t
listen to them.”

She laughed again, her heart feeling wide
open, her soul alive, her blood like warm honey. “I adore you, Jack
West.”

“Well, that’s a start.” There was a teasing
gleam in his blue eyes, but something in his voice told her there
was more behind his words than he was letting show.

Was he in love with her?

The thought stunned her, sent her heart
soaring.

Was she in love with him? How could she be?
She’d only known him for a few short days—if you didn’t count the
past nine months she’d spent loathing him.

“I took the liberty of moving your things
from the guest room to my bedroom while you were sleeping. I hope
that’s okay with you.”

It was better than okay.

“Thank you. Now I don’t have to figure out
how to sneak my way in—you know, leaving my things in your bathroom
bit by bit.”

“You never have to sneak, Janet. Ask for what
you want. Say what’s on your mind. Be honest with me, and I’ll
always be honest with you.”

What he was describing was the deepest form
of intimacy.

She felt a hitch in her chest, touched by his
openness. “You dear, sweet man.”

“You take a shower, do whatever you do in the
morning. I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“Won’t you take a shower with me?”

He grinned. “I’d be happy to be your rubber
duckie.”

The master bathroom was a bigger, more
beautiful version of the guest bathroom. It was easily the size of
her living room, with an enormous sunken tub, a wide shower with
multiple shower heads, his and her sinks, and radiant heat. An
upholstered chaise sat at one end beside a corner table that held
candles and magazines. Windows ran along the top of the wall,
bringing daylight while allowing privacy.

“This is beautiful.”

They stepped into the shower together. Jack
massaged shampoo into her hair, rubbed soap over her breasts and
between her thighs, then rinsed it all away, his touch and the hot
water both soothing and erotic, her body still singing from their
lovemaking. When she was squeaky clean, she returned the favor,
even spreading shaving cream on his face so that he could
shave.

Neither of them spoke. There seemed to be no
need for words, a touch, a smile, a glance more than enough, their
moans of pleasure and laughter mingling with the music of the
water.

# # #

Jack made eggs Benedict and mimosas for
breakfast with a little help from Janet. He showed her how to use
the juicer to make orange juice, then made the Hollandaise himself.
Fresh strawberries rounded out the meal, the two of them picking
berries from the bowl and feeding each other by hand.

He felt like he was walking on air, almost
unable to believe that this wonderful, beautiful woman was here
with him, sharing this meal, his day, his bed.

You fell head first this time, amigo.

A voice inside him reminded him that they
hadn’t yet made each other a single promise and that there was
every chance Janet would decide to walk out the door and never come
back. She was eighteen years younger than he was, only nine years
older than his son. What could she possibly see in him?

He told that voice to go to hell.

She cared for him, too. He knew it. She
seemed to be as lost in the moment as he, smiling and laughing with
an ease that hadn’t been a part of her when she’d first arrived,
exhausted and chilled to the bone. Her body responded to his touch
as if she’d been made for him, which meant her heart and mind were
in the game, too. Most of all, she’d trusted him with her worst
fears. He’d lived long enough to know that a woman didn’t do that
with just any man.

They’d just cleared the dishes away when
Sheriff Rove called.

“How are things, Mr. West?”

“All is well. Chinook is healing, and so is
Luke.”

Chuck said the kid was still bragging to
anyone who would listen how he’d saved the stallion and frightened
Kip away. It was starting to get on the men’s nerves.

“I wanted to let you know Kip Henderson had
his arraignment this morning. The district attorney threw the book
at him—attempted first-degree murder, assault with intent to kill,
assault with a deadly weapon, animal cruelty, destruction of
property. There are a few more charges. I can’t remember them all.
If they convict him, he won’t be seeing the outside of a prison
cell anytime soon.”

Jack had already heard this from the DA’s
office, but hearing it again, he found it sad to think that Kip had
come to this end. “What a shame.”

Rove went on. “You don’t have to worry about
him making bond. The judge set bail at five hundred grand.”

Kip didn’t have the collateral for that. He
didn’t even have a pot to piss in.

“Do you have the ballistics results back
yet?”

“That could take months. Sometimes CBI takes
a year to get results back to us.”

“A year? That’s ridiculous.”

Janet shook her head, whispered, “Tell him to
send them to the FBI. I’ll file the paperwork and put in the
request.”

Jack nodded. “How about sending them to the
FBI? Ms. Killeen is willing to do the paperwork and—”

“I don’t see the point in troubling anyone or
putting CBI’s nose out of joint by turning to the feds. We have the
guilty party in our jail. The man had motive, opportunity, and the
ability to carry out the crime. We have an eyewitness. I’m not sure
we even need the ballistics evidence to force a plea deal
here.”

Jack looked to Janet, shook his head. “Has
Kip admitted to any of it?”

“No, he still says he didn’t do it, but then
if you ask around, you’ll learn that no one in my jail is
guilty.”

Jack supposed that was true enough. “Has
anyone notified his kin? Does he have any money in his commissary
account?”

If he didn’t, Jack would transfer some to him
via his attorney. Now that the man was no longer a threat, Jack
felt kind of sorry for him.

“I’m not sure.” Sheriff Rove sounded
surprised that Jack would care. “I could have the jail captain call
you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You’re the county’s biggest land owner, Mr.
West. We want you to know we’re on top of this case.”

So this call had more to do with the
sheriff’s upcoming re-election campaign than it did Kip or Chinook
or the law. God, Jack hated politics. “Keep me posted.”

He turned to find Janet watching him.

“They won’t turn to the Bureau for the
ballistics testing?”

He shook his head. “Rove is afraid of
ruffling feathers at CBI.”

“That’s absurd.”

“That’s politics.”

“It’s kind of you to want to help Kip,
considering what he’s done.” She slid her arms around him, rested
her head against his chest. “You really are a softie, aren’t
you?”

He held her fast, kissed her damp hair.
“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

# # #

“It’s beautiful.” Janet could almost feel her
soul sigh.

Snug in her parka, a thick sheepskin on her
lap, she looked around her. Tall aspens surrounded the sleigh,
their leaves fluttering like so many gold coins in the breeze,
their thick white trunks reaching skyward, making her feel as if
she were sitting in a golden cathedral, its ceiling the endless
blue dome of the sky.

“You said you wanted to see aspens.” Jack’s
voice was soft, as if he, too, were moved by the beauty of this
place. “You can see the house down there.”

Janet shifted slightly in her seat, peered
through the trees. “It looks so small. How high up are we?”

“We’re at about ten thousand feet elevation
or so.” He started naming the mountains, pointing to each one,
giving her the elevation of each summit. It was clear to Janet that
this was a special place for him, someplace he’d been many times
before. “I never get tired of this view.”

“I don’t think I would either.”

“Good.” He looked over at her, gave her a
smile, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, a black cowboy hat on his
head.

They’d been gone for about an hour now, Jack
holding the reins as Buckwheat pulled the sleigh along a gradual
incline, the snow now compacted enough for the horse to manage.
Janet had never ridden in a sleigh before but found she quite
enjoyed it, the bells on Buckwheat’s harness jingling merrily, the
scenery rolling slowly by. Jack seemed to have a story for every
bend in the road, every stand of trees, every frozen stream—where
he’d had a tree fort, where he’d recently seen a mountain lion,
where he’d shot his first buck, where his father had taken him to
give him the “talk.” And Janet had come to realize that Jack was as
much a part of this land as any tree or lake.

The Cimarron was in his blood.

“It’s so quiet.”

Jack began to recite something. “The meadows
and far-sheeted streams/Lie still without a sound/Like some soft
minister of dreams/The snow-fall hoods me round/In wood and water,
earth and air/A silence everywhere.”

She stared at him, surprised. “Is that a
poem?”

Jack nodded. “Archibald Lampman. I thought he
really described what snow does to the landscape better than
anyone. Then again, he was Canadian, so I bet he had lots of time
to think about it.”

She laughed. “I thought you needed whiskey
for poetry.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Sometimes, I
just get inspired.”