Unchecked desire made her legs weak as he ran the edge of his thumb along the delicate seam beneath the tight curls. Then slowly he tugged her forward, her legs spreading wider. And when he pulled her gently from the counter and onto the hard head of his manhood, she gasped and clung to him, her legs curling around his waist. He moved her carefully on the plump head, and he groaned into her neck. Then slowly, gently, he guided her hips as she slid down the hard, full length of him. He cried out her name when he had impaled her completely. But he was big, too big, and she gave a small mewling cry. "Damn," he said, his voice ragged. With amazing strength, he pulled her free, then set her on her feet. When she would have touched him, he turned her around until she braced her hands on the counter. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "But I can't stop." He peeled away her skirt entirely. She felt aware of herself as she had never been before. Naked and daring. He ran his palm up her spine. His touch whispered around, over her ribs, until he found her breasts. Her nipples puckered even tighter, a tiny moan escaping from deep in her chest. His palms pushed the mounds high, his thumbs circling, making her body pulse. And when his hands drifted down and around, they didn't stop until they came to her bottom. "You are amazing," he murmured, palming each round cheek, parting her ever so slightly, then pressing his hard erection against her. "You turn my thoughts upside down, twisting my mind until all I see is you and all I want is to slip inside you until I come." He took her hand and guided her back to the bedroom. But he didn't take her to the bed. He had her sit on a small love seat. Her breath caught when he kneeled before her, then gently spread her knees. "I want to touch you and kiss you everywhere." Her chest rose on a deep breath. "Your eyelids"âhe kissed her thereâ"your ear"âhe brushed his lips along the delicate shellâ"your mouth." He gave her a fleeting kiss, taking her hands and stretching them out along the back of the love seat. "Don't move your arms," he commanded gently. Then he cupped her face with his palms and he kissed her again. She inhaled deeply, and he tasted her mouth. He circled and probed. Instinctively, she sucked as he slid his tongue into her, and when she started to move her arms, he stopped. "No moving," he reminded her, his voice gruff against her lips as he kept a tight rein on his desire. She cried softly in frustration as he began to kiss her skin, exploring. She moaned when he pulled away, but the moan shuddered when he touched her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, and her head fell back, her wild tresses cascading in a tumble of curls. "I burn to feel you," he said. "Here." He squeezed ever so slightly, then took her in his mouth, sucking her nipple deep, tonguing the barely perceptible indentation in the very tip before drifting to the soft underswell. His breath rasped in his chest, his body straining toward her. "Here." He trailed lower over her abdomen, and then lower until his lips grazed her tight V of curls. Her head came up, but her arms didn't move when he nudged her knees farther apart. Their gazes met. "And here," he whispered. Without looking away, he touched the sweet tender flesh between her thighs, parting her with his finger. Instinct flared, and she tensed against him. "Let me touch you." Then she eased just a bit, enough so that he could glide his finger along the wetness on her secret folds. "I said I was going to touch you everywhere. I've barely begun." She bit her lower lip in that way she had that drove him mad. "Trust me," he said, his body pulsing, barely patient enough to show her pleasure, show her the very intensity her body could experience. He wanted to lay her back and give in to the driving need he felt to be inside her. But not yet. Her knees jerked apart in tiny increments as he began to run his fingers through the tight curls. When finally she exhaled a sighing breath, he slid first one finger inside her, then two. Her hips tilted up to him as he stroked. When he dipped his head and licked her, she was lost, and did little more than open farther to him. He licked and sucked, stroking her. She gave in completely, threading her fingers in his hair, her body arching over his head as he trailed his lips along her curves. Then suddenly they were on the carpet, their bodies tangling together. They rolled, each hungrily trying to get closer. Frantic, until they rolled again, bringing him on top. Supporting his weight on his forearms, he framed her face. Her innocence and love shone up to him. Then she moved against him, and he needed to be inside her. He guided himself to her and instantly he realized that despite her being wet and wanting him, he'd have to be careful, go slowly. Sharp need stabbed through him, but he concentrated on Kate and her pleasure. He kissed her patiently, wooing her, pulsing against her opening, teasing her flesh into easing. But Kate groaned in frustration, whipping her head from side to side. "I want you inside me, all of you." "I don't want to hurt you again," he managed to say over the shuddering desire that threatened to consume him. She slid her hands down his back to his naked hips. "You won't." Then she pulled him to her, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He gave in to the full strength of his need, and a deep groan escaped him. He nipped and sucked, unleashing desire as he sank deep. Her mouth fell open on a silent gasp. But when he tensed and tried to pull out, she said, "No!" "You want this? You want me?" "Yes! Yes!" She rolled her head on the carpet with each syllable. Pleading. Demanding. He pulled her close, his heart pounding against his ribs, and he felt her entire body trembling as she adjusted to him. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed her. The minute she did as he asked, he sank even deeper, and this time he gasped at a woman who could take all of his lengthâas if this woman, Kate, was meant for him. Had always been meant for him. "Damn," he whispered thickly into her mouth. "You're mine." He began to move slowly until he felt her passion surge again. She panted as he stroked her slickness with his sliding shaft, bringing her up toward orgasm, kissing her, his tongue mimicking his lower body. And just when she cried her release, he plunged deep and captured her mouth with his, slipping his tongue into her hot wetness and feeling her shuddering tremors as his own. Then the tremors were his, his body erupting and arching into her, convulsing with a sheer aching intensity that he had never experienced before with any woman. He whispered her name three times as his passion spent itself. They clung together for what seemed like hours, neither wanting the bubble around them to burst. When he finally pulled up onto his elbows, he saw that her cheeks glistened. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice ragged. She smiled at him, then reached up and touched his face. Her fingers came away wet. "They're your tears, Jesse, not mine."
TWENTY-ONE
Someone called out, causing Jesse and Kate to freeze. "Jesse! Where the hell are you?" "Fuck, it's Derek," Jesse stated. "Did you lock the door?" "You were the last one in." Kate gasped, and they broke apart. Like guilty teenagers, they raced back to the kitchen and started scrambling to pull on their clothes. Jesse was done in no time, but Kate fumbled with her buttons. Jesse gently but assuredly moved her hands away. "Let me." "There's no time!" "Exactly," he said, amused when he gestured to the mess she had made. He worked the fastenings with ease. "There." Kate gasped when she saw the ripped edges of her panties on the floor. "No! Over therel" "Damn. How do you forget underwear?" She started to argue. "This isn't the time, Kate." Which was true. But neither of them could retrieve the slip of material before the older Chapman burst into the guest cottage. "What the hell is this?" Derek asked grimly, his hair and shoulders wet from the rain that had started to pour. He shook the afternoon edition of the El Paso Tribune in the air. Every trace of vulnerability in Jesse disappeared. "Hello to you, too, big brother." "I don't need any of your smart mouth. What the hell is this article?" "What are you talking about?" Jesse asked, his voice dangerous. Derek waved the folded newspaper. "The front page of the sports section." Tension raced through Jesse's body fast and quick. For long seconds, he didn't move. It was Kate who reached for the Tribune. Jesse was frozen on the spot, his face a mask of stone. As the two brothers glared at each other, she unfolded the section and was immediately hit by the headline. It's Hell Being a Hero Or so it would seem for El Paso's prodigal son Jesse Chapman By Tommy Davis Jesse glanced over her shoulder and saw it, too. With a jerk, he turned away, bracing his hands against the counter. "Jesse?" she started to say. "Read it to him, Kate," the older Chapman said. "He needs to hear what is being said about him." Not knowing what else to do, she began to read. "Rumor has it that Jesse Chapman hasn't been able to play since he saved a woman's life." She glanced at his back. "Tommy Davis is that reporter we saw that day on the golf course, isn't it?" "The one and only," he said coldly. She went on. "Is he really a hero, or is he still the bad boy of golf who took to the wild life like a duck takes to water? My guess is that if Jesse wasn't such a pretty boy, there wouldn't be a sports person around who would have heard of him. Will he change that this August at the PGA Championships' Does he have the talent worthy of the attention he's given? "But more than that, is Jesse Chapman really a heroâor just a wolf in shining armor? Because this reporter has learned that the only reason the woman collapsed that day on the Westchester driving range was because she was hit with a golf club. Did Jesse hit her, then save her in turn? Hard to know, because no one is talking, including Jesse Chapman. What is our local bad boy hiding?" The article went on, detailing Jesse's life for the last decade. The minor tournaments won. The press coverage gained. Shock rippled through Kate. When she glanced up, Jesse had turned around, facing her. "Is it true?" she asked. "Did you hit that woman?" "Did you, Jesse?" Derek demanded. Jesse's jaw cemented. Derek closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "What the hell have you done that a guy like Tommy Davis would question whether the reports about you being a hero are true or not?" Kate watched that shift in Jesse that she had seen before. On the set of Getting Real , on the golf course in front of Tommy Davis. And now. Suddenly the smiles returned. "I'm no hero, big brother," Jesse said with his bad boy smile. "You of all people should know that. Haven't you made that clear to me for years?" Derek's eyes narrowed, only then the patience evaporating. "Damn it, Jesse. What pushes you to do these things? Drinking at age elevenâ" Jesse held up his hand in an exaggerated attempt to be helpful. "You've got it out of order. First smoking, then drinking." Kate watched the exchange with growing horror. "Don't worry, I didn't forget, Jesse. Just like I didn't forget the present Dad gave you when you turned thirteen. A whore and a birthday fuck. Was she good? Did you enjoy it?" Kate felt like she had been punched. "You and Dad," Derek continued, "with your drinking and your women." Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing, and she also could feel that Jesse was losing his tight grip on his bad boy smile. He was about to break. "You're a broken record, Derek. Let me make it easier. Drinking, whoring, irresponsibly fathering a son. What else?" Dark eyes glared into dark eyes, inches apart. Then something caught Derek's attention. He glanced over to the kitchen floor and saw the ripped panties. After a second, he glanced between Jesse and Kate. "What else, you ask? How long have you been screwing Kate?" Instantly, Jesse had his brother pinned against the wall. "I've never done anything to hurt her." "Yeah, right. You keep forgetting the day of my wedding. Screwing her in your bedroom. And don't you know all of El Paso is talking about her being your newest plaything while you conveniently stay in her guest cottage? Looks to me like that's just what's been going on." Jesse slammed him against the wall again, knocking Derek's breath out with a guttural gasp. "Jesse! Stop!" Kate raced forward, breaking into that dark place where Jesse had gone. After a second, he jerked away, Derek bending over to catch his breath. She had never seen any man look so ravaged as Jesse did then. With a growl of pain, he banged out of the cottage, into the rain, and was gone. She wanted to follow, but didn't. She turned to Derek, staring at him as she tried to understand. "Regardless of what you believe, I threw myself at Jesse the day of your weddingâand Jesse told me no." Derek straightened, confusion slowly giving way to a reluctant knowledge, a single frown line of guilt marring his features. "Maybe I'm wrong about that, but not about the other things. Jesse has been wild and irresponsible for as long as I can remember." She looked at this tall, strong man, so like his younger brother in looks, but lacking a flare for life and laughter that had come to Jesse so easily. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "I think you're jealous that your father has always paid more attention to Jesse than to you." His eyes narrowed. "I didn't give a damn if Jesse had his attention." "Didn't you?" "My father and Jesse had plenty in common. Let the two of them be wild and ruin their lives. I wanted no part of it." She bit her lip as she considered his words. "Is it possible for a grown man to have 'plenty in common' with a child? Or does the adult teach a boy the ways of a man?" She saw Derek's eyes flicker, and just then something occurred to her. "You were, what, nineteen when Jesse was eleven? Wouldn't you have made a better drinking buddy? Why did your father turn to Jesse instead of you?" He shrugged with a nonchalance that Kate could tell he didn't feel. But he didn't respond. "Did he ever ask you to go drinking?" she persisted. "Yes! And I said no. But Jesse didn't." His burst of anger made her head jerk back, and she blinked in surprise. "Derek, why are you so angry? Don't you see?" she said with kind insistence. "You want points for saying no at nineteen, and condemn Jesse for not turning him down at eleven. You, an adult, versus Jesse, a boy?" Derek's thunderous gaze wavered. "I don't know what really went on in that house of yours," she added, glancing out the window as she remembered the past, "but I do know that on the night of his thirteenth birthday, he came to me, fighting back tears, and he wouldn't let me touch him. He never let me touch him again." As if he had been hit, Derek took a step back, and this time his face darkened with something other than anger. She met Derek's gaze. "Did it ever occur to you that as the older brother, you should have at least tried to protect Jesse from the very attention you blame him for having?" Derek's nostrils flared, and she could see understanding finally, completely, sink in. "Hell," he bit out. "Sounds like it was," she said. "For both of you, I'm sure. But you never thought to help Jesse find his way out of it." "Hell," he repeated, dragging his hand through his hair in a way that made him look so much like Jesse. "He needed a father and a big brother. Do you see how he didn't get either?" Reaching out, she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm not trying to blame you, Derek. Really, I'm not. I'm just trying to point out that Jesse doesn't deserve blame, either. Your father deserves that." "Hell," he said one last time, before he left the cottage. She didn't know what he would do. All she knew was that she had to find Vern Leeper and learn what had really happened at the Westchester Open.