Heaven, Texas (18 page)

Her eyes flew open. It was a nasty crack, and he was immediately ashamed of himself. His shame grew as the stunned expression on her face changed to a look of concern.

“Your knee is bothering you, isn't it? That's why you've been so grouchy all evening.”

Leave it to Gracie to find an excuse for his boorish behavior. She only wanted to see the good side of people, a fact that made everybody in the world take advantage of her. Still, he wasn't up to destroying her illusions about him by telling her that his knee was doing fine. Instead, he reached down and rubbed it through his jeans. “Some days are better than others.”

She cupped his wrist. “I feel terrible. I've been having such a good time that I wasn't thinking about anybody but myself. Let's go home so we can put some ice on it.”

He felt lower than a snake. “I should probably keep moving so it doesn't freeze up. Let's dance instead.”

“Are you sure?”

“  'Course I'm sure. They're playing George Strait, aren't they?”

“Are they?”

He caught her by the hand and gathered her against him. “You mean to tell me you don't recognize George Strait?”

“I don't know much about country singers.”

“In Texas, he's more of a religious figure.” Instead of taking her back inside, he tucked her close and began to move. They danced between an old Fairlane and a Toyota, and her hair smelled like peaches.

As their boots shuffled in the gravel of the parking lot, he couldn't resist slipping his hand under the hem of her vest and resting it in the small of her back. He felt the bumps of her spine, the softness of her skin. She shivered, reminding him that she needed a man so badly she was in danger of falling for the first smooth-talking bastard to come along.

The idea upset the hell out of him. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he liked Gracie, and he sure as hell didn't want her stripping down for somebody who wouldn't treat her with care. What if she gave herself to one of those sons of bitches who was too damned selfish to make sure she was protected? Or some oversexed jerk who rode her too rough and ruined her pleasure in sex forever? There were a million disasters waiting out there for a desperate woman like Gracie.

He'd been playing hide-and-seek with the truth too long, and he knew the moment of reckoning had finally come. If he wanted to keep facing himself in the mirror every morning, he had to set aside his misgivings about mercy fucking and do what needed to be done. She was his friend, dammit, and he never turned his back on his friends. That left him with no choice. The only way he could be certain the job got done right was to take charge of Gracie's initiation himself.

For the first time all evening, his black mood lifted. He felt smug, even a little self-righteous, the same way he felt when he'd written out a five-figure check to a good charity. More than sex was involved here. As a decent human being, he had a responsibility to protect this woman from the pitfalls of her own ignorance. Without giving himself any more time to consider the complications that were certain to arise, he plunged right in.

“Gracie, we've been avoiding the topic for the past few weeks, but I think we need to clear the air. That night you were drunk you said some things.”

He felt her stiffen beneath his palm. “I'd appreciate it if we could both forget about that night.”

“That's hard to do. You came on kind of strong.”

“As you said, I was inebriated.”

He'd said she was drunk, but this wasn't the best time to correct her. “Liquor sometimes has a way of bringing out the truth, and since it's just the two of us here, we don't have to tell lies to each other.” He slipped his hand an inch higher on her spine and rubbed one of the bumps with his index finger. “The way I look at it, you're pretty much a sexual powder keg waiting to blow up, which is understandable considering the fact that you've denied yourself one of life's sweetest pleasures.”

“I didn't deny myself. The opportunity simply never came along.”

“From what I saw inside, the opportunity could come along at any minute. Those boys are only human, and, the fact is, you were flaunting yourself.”

''I wasn't!”

“All right. Let's just say you were doing some heavy-duty flirting.”

“I was flirting? Really?”

Her eyes widened with delight, and he realized he'd made a tactical mistake. With her typical unpredictability, she hadn't taken his comment for the criticism he'd intended it to be. Before she got so caught up with the notion of herself as a Southern belle that she forgot to pay attention to what he was saying, he hurried on. “The point is, I think it's about time we put our heads together, so to speak, and came up with a plan that'll be mutually beneficial.”

The song came to an end. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from beneath her vest and let her go. Leaning back against the side of the Fairlane, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The way I see it, we each have a problem. You're long overdue for some tutoring in the sexual arts, but since we're supposed to be engaged, you can't get your tutoring from just anybody. I, on the other hand, am used to having a regular sex life, but since I'm officially an engaged man and this is a small town, I can't just call up my old girlfriends and make arrangements, if you get my point.”

Gracie was nibbling her bottom lip to beat the band. “Yes, I, uh— Well, it's certainly a problem.”

“But it doesn't have to be.”

Her chest began to rise and fall as if she'd just run a long distance. “I suppose not.”

“We're both consenting adults, and there's no reason we shouldn't help each other out here.”

“Help each other?” she said, her voice faint.

“Sure. I could give you the tutoring you need, and you could keep me off the streets. I think it'll work out just fine.”

She licked her lips nervously. “Yes, it's—uh—very logical.”

“And practical.”

“That, too.”

He heard the barest trace of disappointment shade her response, and he knew enough about women's need for romance to understand the time had-come for some fancy footwork. “Now the thing of it is, sex isn't much fun if the two partners are only looking at it as some kind of convenience.”

She was nibbling again. “No, that wouldn't be fun at all.”

“So if we decide we're going to go ahead with this, we'd have to put all that out of our minds from the start and do it right.”

“Do it right?”

“Which doesn't mean we wouldn't have to set up some ground rules. I always think knowing the rules up front makes most things work out better in the long run.”

“I know you're quite fond of keeping communication channels open.”

Along with that nervous flutter in her voice, he was almost certain he heard a small thread of annoyance, and he nearly chuckled aloud. Composing himself so that he sounded as serious as a TV evangelist, he regarded her gravely. “Here's what I've been thinking  .  .  . It's obvious this is going to be a stressful experience for me.”

Her head shot up, and she was so clearly astonished it took all his self control not to laugh. “Why should it be stressful for
you?”

He gave her a look of wounded innocence. “Honey, that's got to be obvious. I've been pretty much a stallion from puberty on. Since I'm the experienced partner, and you don't have any experience as far as I can tell that goes much beyond having that podiatrist kiss your foot, I'm going to be completely responsible for making sure your initiation into the sexual arts goes right. There's a possibility—farfetched, I admit, but still a possibility—that I could mess everything up and you'd be traumatized for life. That sort of responsibility weighs heavy on my mind, and the only way I can guarantee everything goes right for you is to take absolute control of our sexual relationship from the very beginning.”

She regarded him cautiously. “Exactly what would that involve?”

“I'm afraid I'm going to shock you so much you'll decide to back out before we even get started.”

“Tell me!”

Her voice had risen to something approaching a shriek, and he could no longer remember what his earlier bad mood had been about. Her impatience reminded him of someone who'd matched the first five numbers on her lottery ticket, and was waiting to hear the last one.

He tilted the brim of his Stetson back with his thumb. “The thing of it is, for me to make certain this is going to be a good experience for you, I'd have to pretty much take control of your body right from the beginning. I'd have to
own
it, so to speak.”

She sounded vaguely hoarse. “You'd have to own my body?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Own
it?”

“Yep. Your body'd belong to me instead of to you. It'd be just like I took a big ole Magic Marker and put my initials on every little part of you.”

Somewhat to his surprise, she seemed more stunned than insulted. “It sounds like slavery.”

He managed to look hurt. “I didn't say I'd own your
mind,
honey. Just your
body.
There's a distinct difference, and I'm surprised you can't see that without me having to point it out.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “What if you force me—or my body, depending on how we're looking at it—to do something I don't want to do?”

“Oh, I'll definitely force you. No doubt about it.”

Her eyes widened in outrage. “You'll force me?”

“Sure. You've got years of catching up to do, and we only have a limited amount of time. I won't harm you, sweetheart, but I sure will have to force you, or we'll never get to the advanced stuff.”

He could see that remark had just about done her in. Her eyes were big gray pools and her lips had parted. Still, he had to admire her fortitude. One thing he'd figured out about Gracie right from the beginning. She had guts.

“I—uh—I'm going to have to think about this.”

“I don't see what there is to think about. It either sounds right to you, or it doesn't.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Believe me, honey, I know a lot more about this than you do. The best thing right now would be for you to say, 'I trust you with my life, Bobby Tom, and I'm gonna do whatever you tell me to.'  ”

Her eyes snapped. “That's taking control of my mind, not my body!”

“I was just testing to make sure you understood the difference, and you passed with flying colors. I'm proud of you, sweetheart.” He went in for the kill. “What I really want you to do now is open the rest of the buttons on that vest.”

“But we're outside!”

He noticed she didn't protest the action, just the location, and he pressed a little harder. “As I recall, I'm the experienced partner here, and you're the virgin. You're either going to have in trust me with this body stuff or our arrangement isn't going to work out.”

He almost felt sorry for her as he watched her sense of propriety do battle with that traitorous vein of sexuality she couldn't quite control. She was thinking so hard, he could practically hear her brain cells zing, and he waited for her lips to purse up so she could tell him to go to the devil. Instead, she took an unsteady breath.

When her gaze darted around the parking lot, he knew he had her. He felt a rush of emotions—pleasure, mirth, and a queer sort of tenderness. In that moment he made a vow to himself that he'd never do anything to violate her trust. The uneasy knowledge of who was paying her salary flicked through his mind, but he resolutely pushed it aside to lean down and kiss one cheek, while he cupped the other in his palm and whispered, “Go on, honey. Do what I tell you.”

For a moment she didn't move, and then he felt the flutter of her hands between her chest and his.

Her voice was husky. “I—I feel silly.”

He smiled against her cheek. “I'm the one who's going to do the feelin' here.”

“This just seems so  .  .  . naughty.”

“Oh, it is. Now open up.”

Once again her hands moved between their bodies.

“Is it open all the way?” he asked.

“Y—yes.”

“That's good. Put your arms around my neck.”

She did as he requested. The sides of the vest brushed over the backs of his hands as he pushed them apart and felt the warmth of her bare breasts through his lavender silk shirt. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

“Unzip your jeans.”

She didn't move. Not that he was surprised. He'd already managed to push her farther than he'd expected. He'd also gotten so worked up himself by their sex play that he was in danger of forgetting this was a game.

He uttered a soft groan as her body brushed against his. She stood on her tiptoes. He felt her check graze his jaw and heard her soft murmur.

“You first.”

He nearly exploded. Before he could react, however, two men came stumbling around the side of the parking lot, arguing loudly with each other.

Every muscle in her body went rigid.

“Shhh  .  .  .” He pushed her gently back against the building, shielding her with his body. Opening his thighs, he caught her legs between his and pressed his lips to her ear. “We'll just make out for a little bit 'til they go away. Would you like that?”

She tilted up her face. “Oh, yes.”

Despite the agonizing pressure in his jeans, he wanted to smile at her lack of artifice, but he knew she wouldn't understand, so he controlled himself. Bending his head, he touched his mouth to hers, shielding their faces with the brim of his hat. Her lips remained tightly closed, and he decided there was something infinitely exciting about kissing a woman who didn't try to shove her tongue down his throat before he'd even had a chance to figure out whether he wanted it there or not.

He definitely wanted Gracie's tongue, however, which meant he had to do his best to bring out her adventurous side. With infinite patience, he coaxed her lips open. Her arms tightened around his neck, and the very tip of her tongue quivered like a tiny bird at the threshold of his mouth. She was so wrapped up in what was happening with their tongues that he didn't want to distract her by exploring those naked little breasts nestled so enticingly against his chest, so he did his best to push away the memory of the way they'd looked with trickles of ice cream running down their slopes and the small nipples puckered in tight, hard buds.