Faded Cotton (Erotic Romance) (15 page)

“I’ve got cows to feed,” had been his last
weak protest as she pushed him back onto the new bed.

Now the room and the big bed just looked
empty.

Laurel noticed the closet doors standing open
and her clothes lining the left side.

Derrick.

She threw on a worn pair of jeans, a blue
t-shirt and pulled her hair into her usual ponytail.

She was shocked when she saw that the clock
read after one in the afternoon. The house was quiet and clean. The
equipment, crew, and guests were gone. She slipped on some
flip-flops and checked the outside. Everything was clean and the
horses all fed, stalls cleaned. Something was missing though.

The truck was gone. She walked down the back
drive. All the gates were in place, the tractor in the shed, the
party lights put away, and the pool clean. She could see the cattle
on the south ridge, but no Derrick and no truck.

There was a storm brewing to the west.
Ominous dark clouds were gathering and the wind had picked up. She
usually kept up with the weather, but hadn’t checked last night.
She prayed it wouldn’t be bad. No one needed another tornado.

Surveying the entire homestead for party left
overs, the only thing she could find was a stray long neck perched
on a fence post on the other side of the drive. Retrieving it, she
quickened her pace back to the house. Her stomach was growling.
Left over barbeque and potato salad would take care of that, but
she needed to check the weather radar and figure out where Derrick
was.

She grabbed her cell off the charger in the
hall. Checking the radar on it, Laurel’s spine tingled. There was a
nasty front headed their way. She hit the speed dial for Derrick’s
phone number.

“Derrick, where are you? There is a storm
coming.”

“Calm down, I had to run to town. Did you
think I stole the truck? I thought you trusted me,” he chuckled a
little.

“I really was more concerned about
you
. Although I would miss Old Red if something happened to
her,” she quipped, grinning.

“Everything’s okay. I left you a note in the
kitchen. Guess you missed it. I’m turning on Siddy Creek now; I’ll
be there in a minute.”

Laurel found the note.

Laurel,

I need to go to town. I didn’t want to wake you. You
looked so peaceful. Horses taken care of, cows checked. Clean up
done. Be back soon.

Love,

Derrick

She needed to trust him. Derrick wasn’t going
anywhere without telling her. He’d been good to her, good for her,
and he’d done nothing but protect her—what a man did.

Love, Derrick?

Maybe he did love her in his own way, but was
she ready for that?

“Happy Birthday!” He startled her, deep in
thought, note in hand.

“Derrick—wait, what?

“Darra said today was your birthday,” he
smiled at her.

“Oh wow. Some friend she is.” She noted
sarcastically.

“Hey! Everybody should celebrate their
birthday,” he smiled broader yet. “What, you don’t like cake?” He
mocked her frown.

“No candles, promise?”

“No candles on your cake. Go do your hair or
whatever.” He grinned at her. She was beautiful to him just the way
she was, but he needed to prepare her surprise. Damp strands fell
around her face as she nodded.

“I’ll fix something to eat.” Derrick had more
in store for her than just a late lunch. He set his bags on the
counter.

“And no peeking!”

She padded away, bare foot. “Geez, I’m a
prisoner in my own house,” she said teasingly and flipped her
hair.

Well if he wants a birthday girl, he’ll
get one.
She dried and curled her hair and put on a blouse that
complimented her. A little cleavage and make-up never hurt a girl’s
self-esteem. After all, it was
her
birthday.

She heard some of her slow country favorites
start to play from the living room. A little Kenny, a little
George—he’d been paying attention.

“Good enough,” she smiled at herself in the
mirror.

“I’ll say.” A low full voice came from behind
her.

Laurel whirled around to see Derrick’s long
frame leaning against the bedroom doorway.

“You’re beautiful,” came from his lips.

She reveled in the words as she drank him
in.

The snakeskin boots, the worn jeans that
clung to his muscular thighs, the belt buckle centered low on his
hips, the short sleeve collared shirt that was unbuttoned and
almost completely untucked.
Oh, dear God—wow.
She shivered
in appreciation.

She could see plenty of the defined chest
that led to the V of his hips. A piece of orchard grass hung from
his lips, bringing attention to the five o’clock shadow on his
chiseled jaw. Liquid, amber-brown eyes flowed over her like a
blanket of passion. The sight of him, standing there, like that—she
could barely breathe.
What a man.

She broke the silence, ducking her head to
the side. “Thank you.” She blushed. Would she remember how to play
the game? Did she dare?

__________________________

Derrick had pulled a couple of good place
settings and set out dinner. The lights were off and jar candles
lit in the bedroom, the kitchen, dining, and living room. He
motioned for her to sit down and pulled out a chair for her. Laurel
noticed a small package with a purple bow and a cake at the other
end of the table.

As the storm rolled in they enjoyed dinner.
They talked about the horses, the hay, and the party.

Laurel wanted to get rid of the old junk
yard. It was too big, and the classics needed parted out. There
were fences to replace and other things that needed attention.

Small talk.

After dinner, they moved to the leather love
seat in the living room. With nothing else to do but watch it rain,
they both sat relaxing to the slow country ballads on the sound
system.

“Nice mix,” she smiled.

“I’ve been working on it for a while.” He
rested his head on the back cushion.

The slow pit-pat of rain against the windows
was replaced by crashing thunder and lightning. The wind began to
whip the leaves on the trees.

“Laurel, he’s gone.” He turned to gauge her
reaction.

“I know.” Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. He
waited knowing there was more. “The memories are at every turn in
this house, on this farm—.” She choked up.

“At least you have those. When my mother
died, we moved the next month. Everything that was her seemed to be
gone.”

Head resting on the back of the small sofa,
she sighed. “I used to blame myself, then I blamed God, and
sometimes I even blamed Jahn.”

Derrick gazed through the glass, out into the
field, to the far horizon. He could see the lightning contrast
against a darkening sky though the rain that was now sheeting down
the windows.

“I’m guessing you dealt with your pain by
hating your father. Is that why you joined that mob, gang, whatever
it was, to go against him?” She turned to him expectantly.

“I guess so.” His hand for a prop, he rested
his chin on his chest for a moment, and then lifted, looking back
at her. “We never really did much though. It was mostly swagger and
rebellion.”

“So they—you never did anything to that
girl?”

“No, no. No, never.” Derrick shook his head
hard. “There was a lot of tough talk, but the rumors were horrible.
None of the guys actually did any of it. Some fights, yes, running
around, partying, yes, but nothing else.”

Nodding, she breathed a sigh of relief. The
information blew holes in the last dam to her trust in Derrick; she
welcomed it.

“I would never hurt you, Laurel.”

“Somehow, I think I’ve known that from day
one. Derrick, we have to be clear on where this is going. It’s not
that I don’t want another man to share myself with; I just don’t
know how to start. This scares me...
you,
scare the hell out
of me.”

She thought carefully, wanting to make him
understand.

“Making love requires trust, complete trust.
It’s different than—fucking. There is a time and a place for that
wild, wall-slamming, half-clothed heat. I can’t say I haven’t
enjoyed that. I have, but if I’m going to move forward, I need some
kind of connection with the man in my life.”

They stared at each other for a time while
the storm continued to rage, overpowering the music at times.

“Laurel, do you trust me?” His eyes burned
into her soul, flooding her with heat.

She nodded.

The candles flickered as lightning brightened
the sky.

“Dance with me.” He stretched out his long
fingers as he stood, beckoning her to join him. She slid off the
leather as he pushed the coffee table back.

Derrick pulled Laurel close. With no audience
this time, he pulled her hard against him, and she let herself melt
against his strong body. There were no walls left, nothing to
separate them. His hands low on her back, and hers around his neck,
their hips swayed in time to the music.

Derrick relaxed his hold on her for a moment
and looked down at her.

“Laurel, you’ve loved me from the day I
walked into your life. I trust you...I will always love you.” They
moved in unison, gaze fixed, locked into each other’s eyes.

She knew what he meant. They
would
always love each other. It wasn’t like the love she’d had with
Jahn. This was going to be different. They both knew time was
marching on, that he would eventually move on and build a life; she
would move on, too. At that point, at that moment, they needed what
the other had to give, and each would always have a place in the
other’s heart.

She looked into his eyes and, without
hesitation, admitted, “I love you too.” He pulled her back close
against him.

“Laurel...,” with a silk-laden deep voice
she’d never heard from him, “I’ve never....” He stopped their dance
and cupped her face in his hands before he spoke again.

“I want to make love to you.”

Her touch was like velvet when she took his
hand and led him to her bedroom.

__________________________

Laurel drew Derrick to the edge of the bed
and gently pushed him back into it. The candles that he’d lit
flickered and the storm outside raged all the harder. He simply
stared at her, waiting for her tender touch to guide him.

She kicked off her shoes and reached for
Derrick’s foot. She pulled off first one boot, then the other.
Switching back to the first foot, she ran her hands up his leg,
gripping first one calf, and then the other sliding her hands down,
removing his socks.

She offered her hand and drew him up to stand
toe-to-toe with her. Drawing him close, she stood, tiptoe and
reached for his face, pulling him into a heated kiss. Derrick’s
long arms gathered around her and he bent, scooping her up to him.
She began to toy with his lips, her tongue parting them, searching.
She softly stroked the back of his neck.

Derrick groaned and pulled against her hard,
returning her kisses with his own firm, warm, wet lips. Instinct
and want gripped him; he trailed his kisses down, nipping at her
neck and working along her jaw in long slow exploration.

She was quivering as he went down one side
and shaking by the time he made it to the other. How could this
possibly feel this good, this right? He found his place at the
hollow of her neck and sucked her in as if to devour her. Laurel
took a deep ragged breath as a heavy wave of heat flashed over her,
threatening to buckle her knees. She hadn’t had this feeling for a
very, very, long time. Needing to steady herself, she stepped back
to focus on the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Derrick watched her fingers move down the
length of his torso, sliding in appreciation against his skin. Her
hands moved to gently pull his shirt back. When his shoulders were
revealed, she hesitated, closing her eyes and drawing a breath.
Just laying eyes on him made her rush.

She’d never seen broader shoulders with so
much muscle sculpted by hard work—work they had done together. She
finished pushing it back, down his strong arms, catching a little
at his biceps and then off his hard body, tossing it aside.

She ran her fingers over every indentation,
every bulge, across his nipples, around his back, up and down each
arm, studying him, feeling him. She rushed at the thought; he was
very capable of slamming her against a wall. Her wet passage
twinged at the idea of future encounters, what she could teach him,
the pleasure he could give her. The candlelight caught the flex of
each muscle as he moved. He was incredible, a work of art, a
gift.

She kissed his chest and tasted him. He was
exquisite. A groan rose from Derrick as her mouth covered a path
down to his belt.

She stopped and looked up to find him
watching her, studying her actions and reactions. The burning
intensity of his eyes made her shiver. Straightening, she looped
her fingers into the top of his jeans and tugged, pulling him close
once again. Kissing him hard, she moved quickly to stroke his hard
length through his jeans.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve a
couple of condoms. She smiled.

“Don’t. I had that issue fixed permanently a
long time ago and I trust you.”

He nodded. It was true, she had no reason for
concern, he knew.

Laurel took stock of what she felt. He was
long, and maybe a little bigger than average. This was going to be
a first in many ways. He pushed into her strokes groaning in
pleasure, his liquid eyes closed for a moment focused on her
attentions.

He shuddered at her touch, rushing from the
surprise and the change in pace. He wanted her, needed her, and
longed to bury himself deep inside of her.

Deftly flipping open his belt buckle, she
unbuttoned his jeans; looking into his eyes, she slowly slid his
zipper down. She could feel the strength of his erection pushing
against her hands, needing to break free of its containment.