What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(33)

“Stay the night.”

Jase lifted her hand and carried it to his mouth to taste the tender palm, just as he’d wanted to do when he’d given her the roses. “Forever.”

The air-conditioning hit their glistening bodies and Laurel began to shiver, so Jase pulled the sheet up over them.

Then he turned off the overhead and returned to bed.

Because total darkness is also an aphrodisiac.





Chapter Nine



Laurel awoke to late morning sunlight streaming through the slits of the blinds. Startled to find herself naked in bed with an equally naked man, she relaxed when she realized he was not just any man, but the man of her dreams.

She sat up against her pillow and rested her arms on her knees to think everything over. She’d made love all night long outside the legal bonds of matrimony, which meant, according to every precept she had grown up with, she was a fallen woman—a slut. She looked toward the window. Maybe she would become the latest town scandal. Who was sleeping with whom might not matter in Hollywood, or even in Dallas, but it did in Bosque Bend, where everybody was into everyone else’s business. If her parents were still alive, they’d be mortified.

Her lips tightened in defiance. But they weren’t alive, and they both had sins of their own to answer for.

She settled back in the bed. Did she herself have any regrets? She looked over at the big man slumbering beside her.

None at all.

Her eyes studied her lover, memorizing him for when he wouldn’t be around anymore. The sheet had slipped down past his waist while he slept, revealing his brawny torso, every inch of which she’d explored last night. She’d licked and kissed the large cicatrix on his shoulder as if to heal it, run her fingers along his muscled arms. Jase was an adult now, nicked and scarred, powerfully built and sexually demanding, and everything that was woman in her responded to him.

His jaw had darkened considerably overnight, making him look almost villainous. Dave had always seemed younger when he slept, more boyish and vulnerable, but Jase looked harder and more dangerous. The taut planes and hard angles of his face took on something of a satanic cast, and his unsmiling mouth seem unforgiving and cruel.

Laurel shivered. Last night he was hers, but how long would that last? How would he react when he learned the truth about Daddy? Would he reject her like Dave had? Would he shun her like everybody else in Bosque Bend?

Suddenly afraid, she leaned closer to him, wondering, searching his face for mercy. As if sensing her scrutiny, he opened his eyes and smiled. “So, you’re here. It was real.”

Relief surging through her, and she leaned over to kiss him lightly on the forehead, her breasts teasing his mouth.

He pulled her closer, then brought her imprisoned hand down between their bodies for his own purposes. He was turgid and ready, which sent her hormones into overdrive.

He came into her carefully, as if mindful that he’d been rough a couple of times during the night, but she was wet and eager, arching up to receive him. Whatever Jase wanted from her, she would give.

Afterward, he kissed the palm of her hand again, which seemed to be a thing with him, and told her he loved her again. She wondered if he meant it or if that was just his way of expressing gratitude for the use of her body.

They spent what little remained of the morning in bed, playing and experimenting with each other, laughing and talking. Even a day before, Laurel could never have believed she’d feel so much at ease with a man. It was as if they’d been together forever.

“Your hair is soft as silk,” Jase said, weaving his fingers slowly through the sable strands and watching them fall back in place. She’d worn it the same way as a teenager, he remembered. Sixteen years ago, the style had looked sweet and wholesome, but now it looked incredibly sexy.

He moved his hand along the nape of her neck and traced the curve of her ear, enjoying the way she trembled in response.

“I thought you hated me.” His voice was a low-pitched whisper. In fact, he’d spent his last few days in Bosque Bend expecting to be thrown in jail before finally realizing Laurel hadn’t told anyone about their encounter.

Cold comfort. The shame of everyone knowing she’d been touched by Growler Red’s lunkhead son probably would have been even worse than what actually happened.

She looked at him in surprise. “I never hated you. I was in love with you, but I was too young for what you wanted back then.” She rolled over on her stomach and looked at him through coyly lowered lashes. “But I’m all grown up now.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said, flashing her a wide grin, his mood completely changing. “Hey, this is Sunday morning, and you’ve missed church!” He gave her a playful slap on the rump. “What would your father say? And how will you explain this lapse to the church council?”

Laurel had a sudden vision of herself, wrapped in her fringed bedspread, standing in front of that august assemblage and solemnly explaining that she hadn’t attended services because she’d been rollicking in bed with the historically notorious Jase Redlander all morning. Not that she went to church any more, of course. That avenue of comfort had been rather definitely closed to her. God might be merciful, but his earthly representatives were more circumspect.

Jase leaned back against his pillow, folding his hands behind his head. “You were old enough for love, but not for sex.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that’s something I talk to Lolly about all the time. I guess all of a father’s past sins come back to haunt him when he has his own children.” He turned toward Laurel. “Except for your father, of course.”