Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(38)
“Do you even know me at all? Thirty-three years and you think that I’d betray you? For what?”
“I don’t know!” She yelled at him. “All I know is you’re gone and I don’t know how to reach you. I know I’m getting older and I’m not as attractive—”
“Stop it.” How could she think he didn’t want her? “That’s—”
But she was talking over him, through him. “You’re away from home four and five months a year. I know beautiful, younger women throw themselves at you—I’ve seen it. And I know my stomach’s not as flat as it used to be, that my breasts—”
“Desiree, don’t—”
“Stop lying, Jesse. Stop—”
His mouth crushed hers punishingly, as rage and pain and fear swept through him. His hands tangled in her hair, pulled her head back roughly as he possessed her, devoured her.
She opened her mouth to protest and his tongue swept in—tasting, testing, teasing. Desiree moaned and the hands she’d brought up to push him away suddenly clutched his shirt, pulling him closer.
How could she think he didn’t want her or that he would choose someone else before her? The questions taunted him as he devoured her, filling himself with the heady, seductive taste of her. He was desperate—a starving man too long denied the sustenance he needed most.
She tasted the same, like wildflowers and rain and the most exclusive dark chocolate. He craved her and had for a very long time. She was in his blood, in his heart, in his very soul. How had he thought to rid himself of her? How had he thought he could live without her?
Moaning, Desiree pressed herself against him and he forgot all the reasons this was a bad idea. He was caught up in feelings, mesmerized by the sensory explosion that had happened the second his mouth touched hers.
He opened his eyes, triumph roaring through him at the slight flush passion lent to her pale, milky-white skin—a familiar sight, yet new, as well. Everything felt new and exciting as he savored this unexpected happening, as he gloried in the feel of his wife—his wife—in his arms again. Finally.
She was beautiful. More beautiful now in her maturity than she’d been when he married her. Giving birth to his children had filled her out, rounding her body in all the right places. Her breasts were fuller, but still as high and firm as they’d been in her youth—testament to the exercises she performed religiously. Her legs—rider’s legs—were long and lithe and her skin was incredibly soft to the touch. Her stomach was flat, and though her rear had filled out a little in the past few years, it looked good on her.
So where were her insecurities coming from? Where had she gotten the idea that she was no longer attractive to him? Hell, of all the problems they had, sexual attraction had never been one of them. From the first moment he’d touched her he had burned for her—so hot and deep that twenty-seven years wasn’t nearly enough time for the flame to flicker out.
Suddenly she pulled away, ending the connection as abruptly as he had begun it. “I have to go.” She gestured to the door, as she tried to slip past him.
He stared at her blankly until she pushed at him a little. “Jesse, let me pass, please.”
He nodded, turning slightly to allow her to exit as he struggled for control. He watched her walk to the door, watched her hand close convulsively on the handle. “Desiree.”
He saw her stiffen, her body shuddering once, twice, before she regained control. Tension was a time bomb ticking inside of him as he contemplated the sorrow in Desiree’s eyes before she’d moved past him, as he saw again the sad smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes.
“I need to check on Willow.” Her voice was subdued. “I have to make sure everything’s going well with the florists, the caterers. I need—”
“Desiree.”
Her eyes darted to his. “Not now, Jess. I can’t do this now. We’ll talk later. We’ll…Later.” She closed the door behind her.
He had his own duties to take care of for the wedding. So why was he still standing here? What had he expected? For one moment of passion to soften her? That the fleeting connection they’d experienced would last?
It never had before. Why should today be any different? From the moment she’d gained control of the ranch, Desiree had been out of his reach.
Shoulders slumped, head down—the pride of a lifetime battered if not completely vanquished—Jesse turned toward the wall of photos and ribbons and newspaper articles Desiree had obsessively saved for the past twenty years. With unerring accuracy, his gaze found the one that had almost single-handedly changed his life. The one that had sent Desiree into a tailspin and set him on a path he’d never planned on taking.
Horseracing legend and Triple H ranch owner Big John Hawthorne died today after suffering a massive heart attack. He was rushed to Breckenridge Hospital in Austin, Texas, after his son-in-law, Jesse Rainwater, found him collapsed inside one of the Triple H stables.
Though Hawthorne was born into horseracing royalty, he was never content to rest on the accomplishments of those who came before him. Considered a visionary by many in the business, he and the Triple H are responsible for many of the advances in Thoroughbred breeding and racing that have occurred in the past twenty-five years.
In recent years, his horses have won nearly every prestigious race the American horseracing world has to offer—except, ironically, the Triple Crown. Many in the horseracing community attribute his unparalleled success to a keen eye for horses and an even keener eye for personnel. Perhaps his biggest coup was landing the legendary Rainwater to train his horses, a stroke of genius that many believe is directly responsible for the recent fame and prestige of the Triple H.