A Fallow Heart (4 page)

Again, he made a sound of pleasure mixed with painful longing. The noise seemed to come straight from the place she’d just kissed. So, she pressed her mouth to the spot again, wanting to feel the vibration of his moans quiver through her. She flicked out her tongue to get the taste of it and he rewarded her efforts by gasping out another greedy sound of approval.

His head fell back and he swallowed. It made his pronounced Adam’s apple slide up and down. Intrigued by its movement, Jo Ellen kissed the protrusion next. His intense response made her body pulse with a warm, bubbly sensation. She liked it.

But her hand grew tired of rubbing him through his jeans. She wanted to feel him skin to skin, so she inched her fingers up to his waistband and dipped inside.

“Oh, God! God. Jo Ellen,
no
.”

She barely brushed her fingers over the soft, swollen tip before he jerked her hand up and out of his pants where he held her wrist at arm’s length away from him.

Irritated by his resistance, she made a distressed sound and struggled to reach out again.

“Jesus, Jo Ellen,” he rasped, his breathing hard and labored. “Look, sweetie, you are falling-down drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

She frowned. She knew exactly what she was doing. Didn’t she? “I’m trying to feel your penis.”

A choking sound gurgled from his chest. “Okay, so you know what you’re doing then. But do you know
who
you’re doing it with?”

Again, she frowned, but this time she wasn’t sure how to answer. She knew him. She
knew
she knew him, had known him her entire life. He was safe, reliable, and trustworthy. But for some reason, his name escaped her.

“You have a boyfriend,” he told her. “Remember?”

“Travis.” Yes, there was a name she knew. Pleased she could remember at least that, she once again reached for the penis she wanted to investigate.

But the penis’s meanie owner remained intent about not letting her near him.

She felt more than saw him nod. “That’s right,” he congratulated her as he dodged her fingers, jerking his hips backward. “Travis is your boyfriend. And I’m
not
Travis.”

Her brow puckered. “I know that. Travis isn’t nearly this big.”

“Christ!” He choked out an incredulous cough. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But it’s true,” she was adamant to reveal. “He’s itty bitty compared to you.” She shivered, and moved closer to him for comfort. “Though it hurts enough when he shoves inside me. Can’t imagine what you’d feel like.”

“Oh, God.” His big, warm body quivered. “Why’d you have to go and tell me that?”

Jo Ellen crinkled her brow some more, trying to think up an answer, but he cupped her face, distracting her. His fingers weren’t soft and smooth like Travis’s. They were big, strong fingers, full of calluses and cuts, yet he held her jaw so gently she melted against him.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I would never hurt you, Jo Ellen.” His urgent, desperate voice compelled her to believe him. “Doesn’t matter how big they get, it’s never supposed to hurt. Got it?”

His words, the tone of his voice, the glide of his fingers on her face triggered something deep inside her, arousing and stirring her to life. She wanted to test his theory.

“Show me.” Making one last effort to grasp his package, she whined out a frustrated groan when he wouldn’t let her near him. So, instead she tipped her mouth up and kissed his lips, deciding one way or another, she would derive some pleasure from this man.

He went absolutely still. Rigidly still.

Jo Ellen didn’t much like how he just stood there, not participating. His mouth was soft; she wanted to know what it was capable of doing. She leaned in closer, pressing her stomach against his erection and nudging her tongue between his teeth.

As if sucking in oxygen, he gave up the fight and drew her tongue in, tangling it with his own. His muscles tightened, and he yanked her flush to him, pressing her closer than they’d already been grinding together. Slanting his face and aligning their mouths, he threaded his fingers through her hair and held her head steady while his tongue thrust against hers.

She went dizzy and had to cling to him to stay upright. The boy was truly and simply a poetic kisser. The rhythm and flow of his mouth caused music and verse to sprout inside her. She suddenly understood how so many artists found inspiration for their creations. Singers, painters, sculptors, authors; their work must originate from physical acts just like this.

Moaning, she held on for dear life, her body begging for more, eager to become his masterpiece.

He kissed her long and thorough, taking as much as he gave. When he finally came up for air, her knees felt like boiled noodles, too limp to support her. She knew she was only standing because he held her upright and tight against him.

She loved the sensation of her tingling lips and curling toes. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and cuddled into him. “Better kisser than Travis too.”

He jerked. “Damn it.” Abruptly setting her away from him, he propped her against the wall of the house and turned away to fist his hands against his temples. Seconds dragged by as his shoulders heaved, showing her how heavily he was breathing. Cursing softly under his breath, he finally spun to the back door, bent once to pick up a key off the ground and tucked it into her pocket without looking at her before he pushed open the entrance.

Jo Ellen’s bottom lip pooched. “Is that it?” She didn’t want this to be over yet. She wanted his mouth and hands on her again.

Their time together was limited. For some reason, she instinctively realized this would end soon. Any moment now, she was going to wake up from her delicious dream, and reality would return. She’d go back to being plain, boring Jo Ellen Rawlings, girlfriend to Travis, who kissed badly, wore too much cologne, and hurt her whenever he loved her.

Her marvelous kissing phantom turned back only to sigh and set his hands on his hips, studying her like a disapproving parent. He shook his head sadly. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow, are you?”

She didn’t see how she could ever forget his soft mouth and gentle, calloused hands, or his wonderful smell. But as she met his gaze in the moonlight, she realized he must be right. Her mind was already so hazy; she was destined to forget their magical kiss.

Disheartened by the thought, she sniffed out a miserable sigh. He looked similarly despondent, so she reached out and tenderly brushed his shaggy blond hair across his forehead and out of his piercing brown eyes.

The muscles in his face relaxed; his stern glare gentled into a tender smile. “God, you’re so beautiful it makes my chest hurt. Even when you look like someone just killed your dog. It breaks my heart to see you sad.”

“So make me smile,” she suggested, stepping closer.

Immediately losing her balance, she reached for his shoulders and fell into him. He grasped her arm to steady her, and she slid up him, pressing her breasts against his hard, defined chest. Tilting her head back to see his pale brown eyes in the moonlight, she commanded, “Kiss me.”

He did.

“I’m going to go to hell for this,” he whispered, even as his head descended.

Jo Ellen closed her eyes and hummed as his generous mouth returned to hers. She sucked in his flavor and hung on for dear life. Once again, he urged her against the wall of the house, but this time he came with her, blanketing her until she felt a delicious heat climb her body and spark inside her. She choked on a stunned cry.

What in the world was happening? It felt as if she was going up in flames…the most wonderful flames to ever burn anyone. Hot spots throbbed along her thighs as she yearned for…something. She didn’t know what, but she clung to him and climbed him, arching and moaning, reaching for that mysterious prize, because her body just wouldn’t stop. It needed release so bad.

As if hearing her inner cry for assistance, he responded, skimming his hands over her, dispelling some of the ache and yet only inflaming it hotter in the process. She needed more.

He cupped her breasts and ground his erection against her through their clothes. She jolted and cried out from the intense pleasure, unable to stop her response. It felt so good. Lifting her knee, she wrapped one leg around his hips, and pressed back. Again, he seemed to know what she needed because he worked his pelvis, rubbing mercilessly.

Kissing him harder, she moved with him, grinding and panting; the building friction felt marvelous. It was the most amazing…delicious…

He groaned. She gasped. And then it happened.

Something exploded.

Inside her, the mounting heat between her legs reached its peak, and she flew over the edge, crying out and shuddering against him.

“Holy shit,” she heard him gasp. But his voice sounded far away as her pleasure lifted her into a higher plane where she floated on the fringes of euphoria until the explosion settled, and she once again drifted back to reality.

Blinking until her eyes could focus, she found him trembling and hot as he held on to her. Sweat soaked him, making his face glow in the moonlight and his snug shirt cling to a rippled chest. Usually, Jo Ellen hated being hot and sweaty and sticky. But she loved sticking to him. It was intimate, bonding, as if they were one person, and she adored being a part of their united whole. She’d never felt so close to anyone else in her life.

“What jus’ happened?” she slurred, still dazed by the eruption and the sludge clouding her brain.

Obviously as shaken as she was, all he could seem to say was, “Holy shit. Did you just…holy shit.”

Jo Ellen laughed. She wasn’t sure why. She simply felt wonderful…ecstatic…alive. “Do it again,” she urged, sliding her hands up his chest, over hard, warm muscles and—

Groaning, he tore himself away, panting. “Holy shit.” Shock carved wide eyes and a gaping mouth into his surprised features. He looked almost scared of her and flighty as if he might run.

“Don’t go,” she cried. Oh, God. He couldn’t leave her. Not now. Not like this. She’d die if he deserted her.

He shook his head. “Jo Ellen.” His voice rasped raw, scared. “I can’t believe...We shouldn’t have…Holy shit.”

She opened her arms.

Immediately, he moved toward her but just as quickly jerked to a stop, resisting. “No,” he insisted, adamant. “I can’t…we can’t…” Gripping his head, he let out an agonized groan. A second later, he dropped his fingers only to step toward her and grasp her face. “Promise me.” His voice was urgent, pleading, while his thumbs gently stroked her temples. “Once you’re awake and sober tomorrow, promise me you won’t forget this. Promise me you’ll dump Travis and be mine instead. We belong together, Jo Ellen.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he laid a single sweet kiss on her lips.

“Okay,” she whispered, ready to promise him anything, wanting that unity with him he seemed to want too.

He let out a relieved breath, gave one last encouraging squeeze to her fingers, and let go. His grin reassured her she’d made the correct decision. “Let’s get you into bed then,” he said, his voice hushed as he nudged her inside. “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll wake up and remember.”

She smiled back, though she didn’t think it was possible not to when he beamed at her like she was his sunshine. He had the most amazing smile…the most amazing face. She loved his shaggy, blond locks and wanted to touch them again. But he took her hand before she could lift her fingers, and he led her into the darkness.

It occurred to her in a fleeting thought, which passed almost as soon as it came, she still couldn’t remember his name. She knew she knew him, was sure she’d even recognize his name if he said it. But for the life of her, the word completely escaped her. Not that it mattered. She’d remember in the morning.

Right?

Right.

Jo Ellen frowned. Wait. What was she supposed to remember?

Chapter Three

Cooper’s body quivered with desire. He throbbed so hard it hurt. He wanted Jo Ellen Rawlings as he’d never wanted any girl before. Yeah, he’d always wanted her, secretly admiring her since before puberty had hit. But all those vague feelings of appreciation felt stale and lifeless compared to this vivid awareness surging through him now. He felt connected to her. Mated.

Clinging to her hand with a death grip, he hauled her through her dark house, determined to tuck her into bed so she could get to sleep as fast as possible. If he had any less decency than he did, even just a shred, he’d say screw his morals and he’d take Jo Ellen. Right there. Right then. He wanted to make them one in the most physical way possible.

He twitched, on the edge of doing just that. But taking advantage would be wrong. So very, very wrong. And Cooper Gerhardt never did the wrong thing.

He had to repeat that sentiment to himself every half a second or so, on cue with each time she came up behind him and brushed her breasts against his arm.

Holy shit.

“Where’s your room?” he croaked.

She giggled. “Don’t you know?”

“Shh. You’re going to wake up the whole house. And, no, I don’t know where your room is.” Why would he know where her room was? Like he’d ever stepped foot inside the sacred Rawlings mansion before. He’d stopped by numerous times to hang out with Em and try to catch a glimpse of Jo Ellen, but he’d never been invited past the front porch, much less inside.