Til Death Do Us Part (8 page)

The moment she responded, giving herself over to his ravenous attack, he gentled the kiss, then cupped her buttocks and drew her up against his arousal. He ached with the need to take her, to be inside her.

Lifting her in his arms, he gazed into her questioning eyes, then carried her over to the apricot leather sofa. He laid her down, untied her robe and spread it apart, revealing her silk nightshirt. Pulling the robe down her arms, he paused to kiss one and then the other shoulder. Joanna trembled.

“Easy, honey.” He removed her robe and tossed it on the floor. Then he brought his body down on the wide sofa, placing his legs on either side of her. He braced himself
by laying his hands flat on the cushion, one on each side of her head.

She raised her arm, reached out and caressed his face. “I'm not sure I can do this. There hasn't been… I don't—”

“Only as far as you want to go.” J.T. kissed her forehead. “Trust me just a little, Jo. When you tell me to stop, I'll stop. It may kill me, but I'll stop. I promise. Just don't deny us some pleasure. I need this, and I think you do, too.”

Nodding agreement, she tried to smile, but couldn't. Although she longed for J.T. to touch her intimately, to lead her along a passionate path to fulfillment, she wasn't sure that at some point she wouldn't freeze in his arms. And if she did, what would he do? Could she trust him to keep his promise?

He unbuttoned her nightshirt—slowly, kissing each inch of newly exposed flesh, painting a moist trail down her throat, between her breasts, over her stomach, then stopping just below her navel. He raised his head and looked at her. With the utmost gentleness, he spread apart her nightshirt, exposing her naked body completely.

“Joanna.” He had never seen anything as beautiful as the woman who lay beneath him, all slender curves and creamy flesh.

He ached with wanting, his need urgent and painful. Patience, he told himself. Patience!

He slid over onto his side, lifting her as he turned. She gasped, grabbing him, holding on to his shoulders as he placed her on top of him. Raising her body up, she stared down at him. He slipped his hand beneath her nightshirt to caress her buttocks. Joanna sighed and closed her eyes, savoring the sensations his touch aroused in her.

Capturing her nipple with his teeth, J.T. tugged playfully. Joanna moaned, then shivered. He licked and suck
led one breast, then moved hurriedly to give the other equal attention. And just when she thought she could bear no more of the torturous pleasure, he stopped and kissed her throat. Lifting his arms, he slipped the fingers of his right hand through those of his left and placed his hands behind his head.

“J.T.?” With labored breathing, she spoke his name in a harsh whisper.

“I've been doing all the work,” he said. “It's your turn.”

“My turn?” What did he mean? What did he expect her to do?

“Undo my shirt.”

“Oh.” She obeyed his command instantly, her nervous fingers working quickly to unsnap his shirt. Sliding her hands beneath the chambray material, she spread his shirt back, revealing his chest the way he had revealed hers. She sucked in a deep breath. Dear God,
he
was the beautiful one. All sleek, hard muscle and hot bronze flesh. Lowering her head she licked one tiny, pebble-hard nipple, then kissed it. He groaned. She repeated the process on the other nipple.

He reached around and grabbed the back of her head in one hand, threading his fingers through her hair. She dotted kisses all over his chest, moving steadily downward until her mouth reached his belt buckle.

Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her upward until her breasts scraped over his chest. He took her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. Her breathing quickened and she responded with a fervor that astonished her.

He drew away from her, and whispered against her lips, “Would you like to unbuckle my belt, honey?”

Nodding her head, she smiled, then sat up on top of him, resting her hips on his legs. She clutched her hands into fists, trying to stop the trembling. Taking her hands
into his, he lowered them slowly to his belt. He helped her undo the heavy silver-and-turquoise belt buckle, then released her hands and waited for her to make the next move. She touched the zipper tab, then jerked her hand away.

“I—I can't,” she said.

“Then don't,” he told her. “It's your call, Jo.”

Clasping the zipper tab between her thumb and index finger, she eased the zipper down and laid her hand over his throbbing sex. Only his thin cotton briefs separated her hand from his naked flesh. J.T. groaned deep in his throat. Heaven help him, he was about to lose it. She had no idea what she was doing to him, what torment she was putting him through.

Cupping her hips, he pressed her downward, positioning the apex of her thighs directly on his arousal. He pushed upward gently, allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of him. Her whole body trembled, then instinctively undulated against him.

He couldn't take much more. Her innocent explorations were driving him crazy. “I want you, Jo. I want to make love to you.” He kissed her hard, hot and hungrily.

She quivered beneath his touch, responding fervently, but when he eased his fingers inside her warm, damp body, she tensed. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she pulled away from him.

“I can't. Please. I can't.” Tears filled her eyes. She knew she had disappointed him, that he was on the verge of losing control.

He shoved her up, lifting himself into a sitting position at the same time. Settling her in his lap, he put his arms around her and hugged her close to him. “It's all right, honey.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose and kissed the side of her face. He pulled her nightshirt together, then
buttoned the three middle buttons, just enough to hold the material in place.

“I'm sorry.” She choked back the tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said, holding her with a gentle protectiveness. “What we gave each other was enough for now. We both needed some loving. When you're ready for more, you'll let me know.”

“Oh, J.T.” Covering her mouth with her fist, she took several deep breaths and gulped down her sobs.

He sat on the sofa and held her in his arms while she cried. He ached unbearably. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Joanna. But he didn't want to hurt her, in fact, he would do anything to make sure she was never hurt again, especially not by him.

Was this the way Benjamin Greymountain had felt about Annabelle? Had he wanted her with a desperate, all-consuming passion? If so, J.T. understood why his great-grandfather had taken another man's wife. What he didn't understand was how Benjamin could ever have let her go.

 

E
LENA
G
REGORY SQUIRMED
on the stool where she sat perched, her waist-length black hair swaying softly with her movements. “I need a break, Jo. I'm sore from sitting in one position for so long.”

Sighing, Joanna laid her brush aside. Elena had a difficult time sitting still for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. Joanna was beginning to wonder if she'd be able to complete Elena's portrait in time for Alex's birthday.

“Okay, we'll take a break. I could use some iced tea.” Joanna wiped her hands on her jeans and walked around the easel. Glancing down at her watch, she realized it was after one o'clock. “Hey, we might as well take a lunch break. I didn't know it was so late.”

“There's no need for me to go back up to the house
for lunch,” Elena said. “Alex started on a new sculpture yesterday, and you know how he is when he starts a new project. I'll be lucky if he comes out of his studio for dinner.”

“Then stay and have lunch with me. We can fix sandwiches.”

“I'll help you.” Elena glanced down at her clothes. “Maybe you'd better get me an apron. I didn't bring a change and I don't want to get anything on my outfit.”

Elena had chosen an ankle-length gathered skirt and a long-sleeved blouse made of the same red cotton material—simple in design, but a striking contrast to her dark coloring. She wore an abundance of silver-and-turquoise jewelry; several rings and bracelets as well as dangling earrings. She had chosen a squash-blossom necklace with
naja
pendant because it had been crafted by Benjamin Greymountain and given to Elena by her mother.

Elena followed Joanna into the kitchen. She took the bread and baked chicken breasts out of the refrigerator while Joanna set the table.

“How are things going between you and J.T.?” Elena asked.

“Things are fine.” Joanna tossed Elena a large tan apron trimmed in ecru crocheted lace. “I feel much safer knowing he's handling the security around me. I guess you saw Tim Rawlins outside when you came in, didn't you?”

“Yes. J.T. told Alex and me last night that he planned to put a man on guard duty around the clock.” Elena sliced the cold chicken into strips and prepared their sandwiches. “J.T. took over guard duty bright and early this morning, didn't he?”

Joanna dropped the bag of potato chips on the table. “Yes. Fairly early.” She cast her gaze downward, not want
ing to face Elena, who was sure to suspect something if she could see Joanna's eyes.

“He was in an odd mood when he came back up to the house for breakfast.” Elena returned to the refrigerator for ice, then filled their glasses. “He was just about as talkative as you are now when I asked him about it.”

“About what?” Joanna asked.

Elena poured the tea into their glasses and brought them to the table. “Something must have happened between you and J.T. to make you both so secretive.”

Joanna forced a quick laugh. “Just because you've had this plan to get your brother and me together for several years, doesn't mean J.T. and I have any intention of going along with your plans.”

“Something did happen! I knew it. Confess. Did he kiss you?”

Someone knocked on the front door. Joanna jumped and Elena gasped. Both women turned around and faced the living room.

“Boy, we're as nervous as a couple of cats in a room full of rocking chairs,” Elena said. “I'll go see who it is.”

“No, you finish getting lunch ready and I'll go to the door.”

Joanna crossed the room, opened the front door and sighed with relief when she saw Cliff Lansdell standing on her front porch.

“Afternoon.” Cliff removed his hat. “I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing. I hope I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all, Cliff.” Joanna stepped back to allow him entrance. “Come on in. Elena and I were just about to have lunch. Would you care to join us?”

“Done had mine, but thanks.”

Joanna had liked Cliff since they'd first met, but
despite his rugged good looks and gentlemanly manners, she had called a halt to their budding relationship after half-a-dozen dates. Cliff's feelings for her had been much deeper and far more sexual than hers had been for him.

“How about a glass of tea?” Elena called out from the kitchen.

“Don't go to any trouble, Elena. I can't stay long. I just dropped by to say…well, to let you know, Joanna, that I—” he transferred his hat from one hand to the other and then back again “—I'll do anything I can to help J.T. keep you safe and not let that Plott fellow get anywhere near you.”

Joanna reached out, laid her hand over Cliff's and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern and—”

The telephone rang. Joanna tensed. Dammit, she had to stop this! Every time someone knocked at the door or the telephone rang or she heard an unusual sound, she overreacted.

“Want me to get it?” Elena asked.

Joanna nodded. Cliff placed his hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him and felt somewhat comforted by his friendly, caring smile.

“Hello,” Elena answered the telephone. “Oh, hi there, Mrs. Beaumont. Yes, Joanna's right here.” Elena held out the phone.

Hesitantly, Joanna walked over and took the phone out of Elena's hand. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”

“How am I?” Helene asked. “I'm worried sick about you, that's how I am.”

“I'm perfectly all right,” Joanna said. “There's no need for you to worry.”

“My dearest girl, how can you say that? I know Lenny Plott has already discovered where Claire Andrews lives
and has called and threatened her. It's only a matter of time until he finds out where Libby Felton is and where you are.”

“I realize that's a possibility, Mother, but we can't be certain.”

“Of course, we can be certain.” Helene sighed. “Lenny didn't become a pauper when he went to jail. His family has millions, and that idiot mother of his will make sure he can put his hands on however much money he needs. Money can always buy information, Joanna. You know that as well as I do.”

“I'm well guarded here at the ranch. J.T. has posted ranch hands outside my house day and night.”

“A wise decision on Mr. Blackwood's part, I'm sure, but I'd feel much better if you came home to Virginia. Mr. Blackwood could escort you home, if you'd like, or I could send a bodyguard to get you. We'll hire around-the-clock guards here. Please, Joanna, come home.”

“Mother, I am home.” Joanna bit her bottom lip, then rolled her eyes heavenward. “I plan to spend the rest of my life here in New Mexico. I'm not ever going to move back to Virginia.”

“But surely, someday—”

“Not now. Not ever.”

“You'll change your mind,” Helene said. “When you decide to marry and have children, you'll come back to Virginia to find a suitable husband.”

“What makes you think I couldn't find a suitable husband out here in New Mexico?”

“Joanna, there isn't anything going on between you and this Blackwood man, is there?”

Joanna gripped the telephone with white-knuckled strength. “Why would you ask such a question?”