The Price of Honor (11 page)

He finally gave her swollen bud the attention she craved. Within moments her breath caught, her muscles tensed and she stilled, then orgasm overtook her. He rode out the undulations of her body, each one shooting an arrow of need straight to his groin.

She cupped his jaw and tugged upward. Normally he would have plied her over and over until she was boneless, but her extra boldness tonight had derailed his usual self-discipline.

He slowly ascended her body, dragging his overheated flesh against her damp skin. He poised above her and then remembered. A condom.
Merde.
He had not unpacked the box from his shaving kit which was in the bathroom. And Megan was here. Warm, wet and waiting.

Braced above her on straight arms he debated his options with what little cognizance he had remaining. Did he really need protection? They were both healthy. And she was already pregnant with his child.

He had never had unprotected sex. Never. But to share such intimacy with Megan seemed right. The possibility of sliding inside her unsheathed and experiencing every inch of her against every inch of him ignited a fire at the base of his spine.

Before he could have second thoughts he thrust into her. Her surprise-widened gaze met his. She, too, realized the significance of his actions. And then the hot, slick glove of her body surrounded him and all he could do was feel.

The absolute eroticism of being this close to her without barriers nearly overwhelmed him. He battled his body's demand to ride her hard and fast to the quickest climax of his adult life. He wanted to go slowly, to relish every moment until he could not last another second. But that outcome seemed doomed to failure.

As if she sensed his turmoil, she smiled. The sultry, sexy welcoming curve of her lips exacerbated his unraveling response. She thumbed the hypersensitive spot beneath his ear that never failed to arouse him, massaged his shoulders, then her palms descended ever so slowly across his pecs to flick his nipples. Jolts of intense pleasure surged through him. She caressed his ribs and abdomen. His muscles contracted like ripples of applause in the wake of her touch. Her short nails dug into his buttocks, pulling him deeper and fully seating him in her molten center. And then she squeezed him with her feminine muscles.

A groan he could not contain rocketed from his chest. The intensity of the sensations bombarding him went far beyond anything he had ever experienced. She had annihilated his willpower and pushed him past the line of no return. Animal instinct took over and his hunger blazed out of control. He withdrew, then plunged in again. For the first time in his life, he could not slow the pistoning of his hips, the wild race of his heart, the rapid cadence of his breaths.

Pending release built inside him like the pressure from an unvented boiler, then his climax exploded, pulsing over and over with white-hot bursts of heat. Passion roared up his throat and his hoarse groan drowned out the hammering beat of his heart.

Every muscle in his body quaked in the aftermath and his strength drained. His elbows buckled. He managed to land beside Megan instead of crushing her, but it was a
near miss. The combination of their fluids as he slipped from her body seemed more intimate than anything he had shared with her—with anyone—in his life.

He lay beside her, fighting to fill his lungs and trying to regain his senses. Without the need to dispose of a condom he had no reason to leave her embrace—a good thing because he could not move. He had never been more sated in his life. Not one cell had been left wanting.

He drifted into a hazy presleep realm with a smile on his face and a sense of supreme satisfaction unraveling his thoughts. He realized this was the postsex total relaxation that other men talked about and he had never experienced. He'd come close, but this…
Ahh.
It felt good. Beyond good.

Megan nudged him from his euphoria by pulling her arm from beneath him. Then she leaned over him and brushed her lips across his. “Good night, Xavier.”

His lids were too heavy to open, his thoughts too tangled to question her odd tone. “Good night,
mon amante.
”

The mattress rocked. He felt a chill where her body had been and forced his eyes open just in time to see her shrugging on her robe and heading for the door.

The bedroom door, not the bathroom door.

The fog in his brain dissipated. He rolled up on his elbow.

“Where are you going?” His voice sounded hoarse, raspy.

“Back to my room. Sleep well.” The connecting door closed behind her. Then the lock clicked, knocking him from his blissful state. He sat up in bed scowling at the closed
and locked
door.

Megan had left him. Women did not leave him. He left
them after the required amount of the required postcoital cuddling.

The shoe was on the other foot. And it was not at all comfortable.

M
egan entered the sponsors-and-owners breakfast determined to make more useful American connections. If plan C came into play she'd have to find U.S. sponsors. And while she wasn't encouraging plan C, she wasn't going to miss this opportunity to cover her bases.

But the main reason she'd come was that being in this tent full of influential people gave her a legitimate reason to dodge an intimate meal with Xavier. And it would be the last place he'd look for her. After last night, she was on shaky ground and needed time to regroup.

Even at this early hour, affluent, well-dressed patrons packed the tent. She glanced at her khaki slacks and oxford-cloth blouse and grimaced. She should have spiffed herself up a bit. Too late now. She wasn't going back to that suite.

The temporary hardwood floor laid for the event tapped under her boot heels as she walked past the linen-draped tables decorated with beautiful floral arrangements. She
nodded to a few familiar faces—people she'd competed against as a teen before leaving for Europe—but kept moving, searching the crowd for a target.

At the head of the buffet line, she declined a mimosa and accepted a crystal goblet filled with orange juice instead and moved toward the food, intent on ordering a custom-made omelet and snagging an advantageous seat at one of the tables.

She spotted a rock star and his equestrian daughter, a couple of actresses and their jodhpur-clad children and then finally a potential sponsor across the room, someone who had a long history with Sutherland Farm's stock. All she had to do was grab her food and get there before someone else claimed the seat beside him.

“Megan!” a familiar and unwelcome voice called from behind her making her groan silently. She fought the urge to pretend she hadn't heard and take off in the opposite direction. Instead she held her ground, forced a smile and faced one of her least favorite people.

“Good morning, Priscilla.”

The catty gossip had been gunning for Megan in the ring for years. The fact that Megan always beat Prissy James in the jump-offs only upped the antagonism between them. But that was because Megan never caved under pressure. Prissy did. Every time. And Priss was a sore loser.

“So this is where you ran to. We've all been wondering where you'd gone to hide after Xavier's engagement announcement made the papers.”

Megan's hackles rose. The accusation might be accurate, but that didn't mean she liked it any more than she enjoyed learning she was the topic of backstabbing gossip. Once her pregnancy became common knowledge the talk would only worsen.

“I'm not hiding. I'm working as a trainer for Sutherland
Farm and the timing of my job change was purely coincidental.”

That was her story and she was sticking to it.

“You called your clients and bailed on the same day the engagement announcement ran in the papers.”

“Like I said, the timing was a fluke. And I didn't bail on my clients. I helped all of them, including Xavier, find replacement riders for their horses. I came home because my cousin is getting married. I wanted to help her plan her wedding.”

“Your cousin?” Clear disbelief hiked the woman's eyebrows.

“Hannah Sutherland. You've met her. She's a breeder and the only family I have.”

“Not counting your uncle. But then you two don't get along, do you?”

Evil witch.
Flinging the juice in her face would be so satisfying, but Megan wasn't the type to let a competitor get under her skin or in her head. “My uncle and I have had our share of disagreements, but he's retired now and no longer living on the farm.”

“Well, you can't say I didn't warn you about Xavier's short attention span. Although I think you lasted longer than most of his women. His record was four months. And you were together how long…?”

Megan ignored the question. “What brings you to Lexington? I'm sure you didn't fly all the way across the Atlantic to check up on me.”

Prissy's lips curled downward. “Didn't you hear? I'm selling my horse. He just can't place high enough.”

She'd watched Priss and her horse often enough to know the horse wasn't the problem. “No, I hadn't heard.”

“So I'm looking for a new mount—one who has championship qualities.”

Priss was the type to blame the horse rather than accept responsibility for errors she made. But it wasn't Megan's place to say so. “I wish you luck in your search.”

“Who are you riding today?”

“I'm not.”

Those feline eyes searched Megan's face then her body looking for clues. “Really? Any reason?”

None that she'd share. “Just taking a break. After ten years, I deserve one, and the wedding prep is pretty time consuming. If you remember, Hannah doesn't have a mom around to help.”

“Have you talked to Xavier since you split? He's left France.”

How could she end this inane conversation? It wasn't going to get any better. And darn it. Someone had snagged the seat beside her potential sponsor. “I'm here with Xavier this weekend. He's leased a local farm and I'm working with his horses.”

“Oh? Is he going to set you up stateside and keep his wife in France?”

Great. Prissy had her version of the truth and she'd spread it to anyone who'd listen to her poison unless Megan could convince her otherwise. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm here as his trainer as he tests the American circuit and some up-and-coming riders. One of the guys I'm coaching is riding Xavier's horses and mine this weekend.”

The cat's gaze turned speculative. “You're not riding at all? Are you injured or…something?”

If Prissy figured out the secret it might as well be broadcast by the Associated Press. “Nope. I'm getting a little R&R.”

“Oh, really?” Another I-don't-believe-you jab.

Be nice, Megs.
But she couldn't help it. She had to knock
the witch off the throne she'd put herself on. So what if it meant helping an adversary?

“Priss, because we're not competing against each other I'm going to give you a piece of helpful advice. Your losses are your fault. Not your mount's. And it doesn't matter whether you ride a new horse or your current one, you're going to get the same result until
you
change.

“You ride well in the competitions, but you tense up in every jump-off. And you blow it. You squeeze your legs too tight and hold your reins in a death grip.
You
are unconsciously telling Jezebel to take an extra half-stride between each jump. That's why you knock down rails. Not because your horse makes a mistake. But because
you
do.

“And now, if you'll excuse me, I only have a few minutes to grab breakfast before I head to the practice ring.”

She pivoted away from Priss's reddening face, grabbed a plate and silverware and marched down the buffet line. She would not run. Running would only confirm the nasty woman's words. Instead Megan gritted a smile and pushed herself to do exactly what she'd come here to do. Eat and make connections. She might have missed her opportunity with one sponsor, but she'd find others.

The chef piled her plate with a grilled asparagus, prosciutto and Swiss cheese omelet and a side of spicy sausage—two items that would have made her salivate ten minutes ago. But her appetite had fled with the knowledge that her life was being dissected by her old acquaintances. Anything she did even on this side of the ocean would be news until a hotter topic or juicier scandal came along.

Plan C wasn't an option if she wanted to hold her head up in the equestrian community.

 

Breakfast hadn't improved Megan's mood. Reconnecting with undemanding former acquaintances had given her
mind time to wander. She had analyzed the data and the players involved in her situation and come up with one inescapable conclusion.

Her current predicament was her fault.

She gave herself a mental kick in the pants as she watched Tim circle the practice ring on Rocky Start, her junior horse. She had convinced herself over the years that she was too smart to fall in love. She was paying for her cockiness now.

She'd never looked for a soul mate because she hadn't planned to have a family of her own. Instead she'd focused on her career and vowed not to let anyone who might tie her down or demand she take time away from her horses get too close. She'd learned the hard way that loved ones could be snatched away instantly and without warning.

The few-and-far-between relationships she'd had before Xavier had been of the friends-with-benefits variety. They had been satisfying enough without rockets or fireworks, and they had served their intended purpose—physical relief with someone whose company she enjoyed, someone she liked and respected.

When she'd met Xavier she'd expected to follow the same good-while-it-lasts model. And it had started that way—just fun and passion.
Lots
of passion. Their relationship had been perfect until he'd popped her self-protective bubble by buying the cottage for her. And then he'd wormed his way deeper into her heart when he'd helped her decorate it.

“Nesting” with him had given her the first home she'd had since her parents' and brother's deaths. That, she decided, was what had made her want him for keeps and what had led her to this point.

And when she'd plotted out crazy plan B she'd fooled herself into believing she could keep her heart insulated
while sleeping with him. But every time she built a wall Xavier found a way to knock it down. Last night, when she'd been fighting for detachment, he'd shattered her defenses by not wearing protection. One simple omission, the lack of a physical barrier between them, had made the act of sex even more intimate.

She kept reminding herself that he'd emptied his seed deep inside her only because he had nothing to lose. She was already pregnant. Otherwise it never would have happened. Not intentionally.

How long would it take him to realize they shared so much more than potent chemistry? Would he ever? Or was she fighting a losing battle?

Quitters never win.

As her cousin had pointed out, Megan wasn't a quitter. Her never-give-up motto in the ring contributed in a large way to her success. As Hannah had advised, Megan needed to apply that same dedication to her relationship with Xavier.

She couldn't give up on this—her most important battle to date. If Xavier wanted to pretend their relationship was still only about sex, then she would continue to give him exactly that. Only sex, no matter how much it hurt to treat the magic they made each time they touched as though it were as trivial as scratching an itch.

But no doubt about it—plan B sucked. And it hurt. Like getting thrown and having the wind knocked out of her.

Leaving his bed last night with her heart still racing, her body still damp and her muscles deliciously relaxed had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She wasn't sure how long she could keep it up without it destroying her.

“Did you sleep well in your solitary bed,
chérie?
” Xavier's hard voice immediately behind her startled her.

He wouldn't have to ask if she'd slept well if he knew how much makeup it had taken to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes. Faking a calm expression and a smile that in no way reflected her inner turmoil, she turned away from the ring, Rocky Start and Tim.

“I always sleep like the dead after sex. You?”

“I would have preferred you to stay.” She considered the admission a tiny victory—even though he looked as if he'd swallowed something bitter as he said it. “You missed breakfast and you did not answer when I knocked on your door.”

His underlying anger may or may not be a good thing. “You said I should act like an owner. So I did. I left early and grabbed breakfast in the tent with a few of the other owners, then I helped Tim get my horses ready.”

“That is the groom's job.”

“Only if you can afford one.”

He frowned. “Mine are at your disposal.”

“For how long, Xavier?” She had to make him realize that nothing was going to be the same. “You've spoiled me by letting me share your staff. I need to get used to taking care of my own horses again. I'm out of practice.”

The lines in his brow deepened. “That is not necessary.”

“I disagree. When you and your horses return to Europe—and you will—I'll be here. On my own.” Unless she won this fight and convinced him to give her the home and family she had never dreamed of but now desperately craved.

The overhead speaker announced Tim's class and Megan's adrenaline instantly kicked in. This would normally be her moment to shine, her time to prove to the world—and her uncle—that Megan Sutherland was more than some hack rider or
that woman's
child. It would also be
the moment she leaned down from the saddle for Xavier's good-luck kiss before she rode toward the arena.

But not today.

Today she had to put aside her disappointment that there would be no kiss, and she'd have to reel in her competitive urges, don her new supportive instructor hat and let someone else go for the glory. None of it was going to be easy.

The possibility of being forced to give up this life permanently made her stomach cramp with nerves she'd never experienced when riding. Riding was all she knew. She didn't have a college degree to fall back on since she'd left her uncle's home the day after graduating high school.

Xavier moved closer, his body heat and scent enfolded her and the urge to lean into his embrace was as involuntary as the need to take her next breath. “Are you also going to refuse to join me in the front-row box seats which I have reserved?”

“No. I'll join you.” She waved Tim over. He trotted Rocky to the rail and stopped. His tension was clear in his pale face. Megan petted Rocky's strong neck and ached to be on the other side of the fence. It was so hard to let someone else ride her horses—especially since Tim didn't seem to thrive on the competition the way she did.