What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(46)
“I don’t usually drink much either,” he said in a deeper voice, anticipating her next question and sitting down beside her on the bed. “Now or then.”
He sat beside her and leaned over to drop little half kisses on her forehead and nose and cheeks. “But, I can’t say the same thing about sex,” he added in a hoarse whisper. “That’s a bad habit I haven’t been able to break.”
She looped her arms around his neck to pull him down to her mouth and kiss him, moving her lips to his mouth and cheeks, tracing his ears with her darting tongue. Her hands slid under his shirt for access to his warm, solid flesh, and she fumbled at his slacks, which he hadn’t bothered to belt.
God, she is dynamite, this sleepy-eyed Southern honey! The back of his mind cycled back to that other time when they had been together in this room, when he had wanted her because she was clean and decent and because he loved her more than anybody else in this world. Now it was her turn to take the lead.
She managed to unbutton the tab of the pants to get them unzipped, but was stymied by his body weight when she tried to move them off him.
“Let me take care of that,” he muttered, rising and turning enough to slide his slacks and briefs off at once.
She fumbled with her own jeans but was too disoriented to figure out how to unfasten them. Jase pushed aside her hands and opened her jeans himself, then pushed them down to her knees.
She was on him like a fury. Her eyes were closed, her color was high, and her moist, searching mouth was half-open. God, she was hungry! He rolled her beneath him, entering hard and fast. She thrashed and moved her head back and forth, arching up against him for deeper penetration.
This was going to be quick. He was already up to warp speed.
Her fingernails clawed his back, and his brain cut out on him. This was it!
She hit first, cutting loose with a long, quivery cry as she bucked up against him.
He arched back in response and groaned as his tension reached its zenith, then released him into shudders of unbearable ecstasy.
They lay in the narrow bed afterward, cuddling and talking. “I want us to sleep here tonight,” Jase said, holding her against him. “In my house, in my bed. This is where it all began.”
*
The next morning Laurel awoke to the world of reality. With Jase’s luggage in the back of the Escort, they returned to Kinkaid House. After dropping his suitcase and garment bag off in the bedroom across the hall, they showered—separately—changed clothes, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of what Laurel now considered to be her specialty, French toast.
She added a little nutmeg to the recipe to spice it up, then congratulated herself on her cleverness. There was nothing to this cooking business. People made too big a fuss about something that was basically pretty simple.
The first thing on her agenda for the day was a trip to the Waco airport for Jase to pick up his car. Before they left, she placed a carefully packed Meissen clock in the Escort’s backseat.
“I’ll drop it off at the repair shop on the way back,” she explained. “It’s not keeping the right time.”
But after letting Jase off at the airport parking lot, she sped over to her favorite Waco pawnshop and scored three hundred dollars. It could have brought ten times that if she had left it with an antique dealer on consignment, but she needed the cash immediately. Back in Bosque Bend, she deposited the check in First National and heaved a sigh of relief.
*
Jase was surprised to see that he’d beaten Laurel back to the house, and even more surprised to see Sarah coming across the street toward him as he was getting out of the car.
He walked down the drive to meet her. “You’re taking your life in your hands, crossing Austin Avenue like that.”
She glanced back at the street and shrugged. “It’s not really that bad, if you’re careful. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. There are always lulls.” Pausing for a moment, she looked at him as if trying to decide what to say. “You’re Jase Redlander, aren’t you?”
He nodded, suddenly wary. Bosque Bend could be quick on the trigger. Was he going to get run out of town again? He’d couldn’t help but take a quick glance toward Laurel’s house. At least this time they’d have cause.
“I’m Sarah Edelman.” She extended her hand. “I used to be Laurel’s best friend, but we’ve sort of lost contact lately.” She held on to the handshake, her dark eyes dancing as she smiled up at him in shrewd assessment. “Lord, you’re a hunk. I remember back in high school, when Laurel had such a terrible crush on you. She thought you hung the moon.”
Jase grinned. What else could he do when a pretty woman complimented him? “I felt the same way about her. I still do.”
Sarah’s playfulness faded and she dropped his hand. “I just wondered…How’s she doing. I mean, is she okay?”
Jase was baffled at the strange turn of the conversation. Did Sarah think he’d killed her old friend and stowed the body in the attic? “She’s just fine. Uh—would you like to come inside and wait for her? I’m expecting her any minute.”
“No, no, that’s okay. My mother would wonder where I’d gotten off to.” She flashed a quick, meaningless smile. “You know, she’d think I’d ditched the boys on her and run off to join a circus or something.”