Her Cowboy Avenger (18 page)

No, he
would
make it up to her, he thought fiercely. Whatever he had to do, he’d make amends for ever having made her that unhappy.

“You love her.”

Matt glanced up to find Lynda watching him, a small, sad smile on her lips.

His first impulse was to deny it. It was ridiculous. He really hadn’t been carrying some kind of pathetic torch for Elena all these years.

But despite his intentions, the words never came.

Because it didn’t matter what he’d thought, what he’d felt, when he’d first come back to town. It wasn’t what he felt now.

He loved her. Just the thought of losing her again, in any way, sent a sharp, agonizing pain straight through his chest.

Lynda studied him, her smile deepening. “I was hoping you cared enough about her to not want to see her in jail, but I didn’t know if there’d be any romantic feelings left.” She leaned forward, her smile fading, a serious gleam in her eyes. “Whatever happens, don’t let her go this time. Life’s too short.”

“You’re right about that.” He didn’t tell her that he had no intention of letting Elena go again. The first person he intended to tell that was Elena herself.

He’d waited long enough.

Chapter Thirteen

After Matt left, Elena tried to focus on the work she had to do around the ranch. But no matter how much she tried to avoid it, her thoughts kept returning to the unexpected information he’d delivered about her mother.

Was it possible? Had her mother not left her after all? On the one hand, she supposed she should find that comforting in some way, that her mother hadn’t abandoned her, hadn’t rejected her as she’d always believed. But to suspect that something had happened to her instead, that she’d met with some terrible end, wasn’t comforting at all. Elena wasn’t sure if she should hope it was true, or if she shouldn’t, or if she should do anything at all.

She hadn’t arrived at any answers or found the slightest peace when she heard the vehicle coming up the driveway. Instantly going on alert, she immediately moved to the front door. A sigh of relief worked its way from her lungs once she saw who it was.

Matt. He was back.

Stepping out onto the porch, she watch him park out front. Once he had, he didn’t get out of the truck immediately. Elena could tell he was looking at her, could feel the heat of his gaze on her. What was he doing? Frowning, she waited for him to climb out and join her on the porch, her concern growing the longer he didn’t.

She was considering walking down to the truck to check on him when he finally opened the door and slowly got out. He took his time gently closing the door behind himself, then made his way to her, his steps deliberate, his head lowered slightly as though he were deep in thought. She felt her unease build. He looked as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Matt finally reached the steps, moving up them until he stood on the porch with her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” he said simply.

The vague answer did nothing to put her mind at ease. “Did you talk to Jack?”

Matt nodded. “Didn’t get anything out of him. He denied everything, of course.”

“No surprise there.”

“I also talked to Lynda Clayton. She was the one who sent me the article about you.”

“Lynda Clayton?” she blurted out. She knew who the woman was, of course. That didn’t mean the words made any sense. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even spoken to the woman, or frankly if she really had.

He nodded. “She was friends with your mother growing up,” he explained. “Best friends, the way she tells it. Sounds like she married up and your mother married down, and she kind of cut your mother loose. After your mother...left...” He glanced away awkwardly, lingering on the word in a way that made it clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable putting it like that and reminding her rather painfully of their earlier conversation. “Well, she felt bad for the way she treated her and tried to keep an eye on you. Sounds like she’s been looking out for you in various ways over the years. After the murder she figured you might need more help than she could give and...well, here I am.”

For the second time in one day he’d managed to completely throw her for a loop, delivering new information she didn’t know how to process. First her mother may not have left them, may have had something happen to her. Now Lynda Clayton, a woman who she would have thought was only marginally aware of her existence, had been looking out for her?

Elena had had no idea Lynda and her mother had been friends. But then, her father had barely spoken of her, and never much in the way of personal details. No one else really had, either. There was so little she knew about Teresa Reyes, her friends, the life she’d led. She only knew that she’d left.

And now maybe she didn’t even know that.

Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to question him further when she realized he was staring at her, his eyes haunted, his expression pained. The sight of his expression filled her with fresh apprehension. It seemed he was nervous to tell her something. She braced herself, wondering what more there could possibly be.

He finally spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For eight years ago. For...expecting you to give up all your plans to follow some cowboy without a job God knows where. That wasn’t fair to you. I was wrong. You deserved better than that.”

The words stunned her into silence. She’d never expected to hear them, had no idea what had brought them about, didn’t know how to begin to respond.

“You were never just some cowboy,” she whispered, the words coming automatically.

It was what she’d tried to tell him before, that he’d never been just anybody to her. This time he didn’t blow the comment off, a pained look flashing across his face. “Still, it wasn’t right. I knew it was no kind of life for you. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.” He swallowed, his voice softening. “I shouldn’t have walked away from you.”

“It’s okay. I understood why. I’m sorry. I wish I’d been able to come with you, strong enough to take the chance. If I’d known how things would turn out...”

He stepped forward, moving so achingly close to her. “Don’t,” he said. “You can’t do that to yourself. We never know what’s going to happen. The time just wasn’t right for us.”

Maybe it was as simple as that, she acknowledged as she peered up into his eyes. Maybe no one had been at fault. They’d wanted different things, different lives. And at that time there’d simply been no way for them to work.

“And now?” she whispered.

“I don’t know if it’s the right time. I just know I don’t want to let you go again.”

“Then don’t.” The words caught in her throat, practically coming out on a sob, filled with every ounce of feeling she was experiencing, every soul-deep need.

Don’t let me go.

She didn’t have to say anything more. He reached out and took her in his arms.

A lump rose in her throat, and she pressed her lips together against the sob she was certain would come out if she opened her mouth. She’d missed this, hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed it until now. To feel his arms around her. To feel him holding her, simply holding her, so very close. It was just as she remembered. His arms felt different, his body harder, more muscular, after all these years. It didn’t matter. She recognized the feel of his embrace as well as if he’d never let her go.

It felt like coming home.

They simply clung to each other, and at first it was enough. This was all she needed. But gradually she began to soak in the heat of his body, his warmth seeping through the layers of clothing and into her skin. Like a slow-acting drug, it spread through her from head to toe, filling her to the core with his heat. The first flickers of awareness sparked to life deep in her belly, the stirrings of arousal building in strength and power. Each moment brought awareness of something new, each fresh discovery adding fuel to the fire. The broad muscularity of his chest beneath her cheek. The strength of his back beneath her fingers and palms. His intoxicating male scent filling her lungs. And she knew she had to have more.

She wanted him, as much as she ever had before, if not more.

As if realizing it exactly at the same time, he eased his hold on her and leaned back slightly. Elena raised her head from his chest and tilted it back to meet his eyes. The dark heat she saw burning in those black depths made it clear she wasn’t alone in feeling what she was. Even the sight of it there pushed her awareness, her need, higher.

Then he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

He kissed her softly, sweetly, with a gentleness that drove a sigh from deep in her throat. His warm, sensual lips stroked against hers, tasting, inviting them to open for him. She responded in kind, deepening the kiss with each subsequent caress. His tongue pushed forward, finding hers, teasing lightly, retreating, then finding it again. A chuckle rumbled deep in her chest at the joy of it, giddy delight bubbling up inside her. She’d forgotten how much fun kissing him could be. It was heady and arousing, but also playful and joyous. He continually surprised her, made it interesting, kept her on her toes, which only made it more exciting.

He broke away to work a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She automatically leaned her head away to allow him easier access, savoring each lap of his tongue, each brush of his lips against her soft skin.

Her eyes drifted open for just a moment, allowing her to see where they were. Out in the open where anyone could see. More important, on the porch of the house that had never really been hers, where generations of Westons had lived before. The realization immediately diminished her fire slightly. Instinctively knowing where this was heading, where she wanted it to go, she knew she couldn’t do this here. They needed to go someplace that was hers and hers alone as much as anyplace in the world was.

She moved her mouth to his ear. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.

He lifted his head to look into her face. “You sure?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t recall ever being as sure of anything in her life.

One corner of his mouth moving upward in a slow, sensual smile, Matt released his hold on her. Reaching down, she took his hand and pulled him inside.

They made it to her bedroom, Elena stepping in first, when he suddenly stopped, his resistance bringing her to a halt, too. She glanced back to find him standing just outside the doorway, eyeing the room with a distinct sense of unease.

“Did you and...”

Elena understood immediately. She shook her head. “This is my room. I moved in here once things got too broken between us. We stopped sharing a bed—in any way.”

Matt nodded, both relief and a trace of apology in his eyes. It wasn’t what she wanted to see there. She wanted the dark heat back in them, wanted him to look at her with that raw fire that said he wanted to devour her.

She wanted him. Wanted him with far fewer clothes for starters.

Moving toward him, she reached for the buttons on his shirt. Popping the first one, she murmured, “Any more questions?”

She sensed his smile. “Nope.”

“Good,” she said, continuing to release the buttons, pulling him farther into the room by his shirt. She didn’t want this to go too fast, needing to take in every moment, every part of the experience. So long. It had been so long since she’d seen his body, since she’d touched his skin, since she’d felt every part of him. She’d never thought she would again. She wanted to relish it, bask in every sensation. She finally finished with the buttons and opened his shirt, revealing his long, lean torso to her. A breath caught in her throat as she simply looked at first, at his firm musculature, his flat belly, his smooth bronze skin. He’d gotten bigger, stronger. He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

When she started to push the shirt from his shoulders, Matt pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans and placed it on the bedside table, then turned back to her.

They undressed each other together, taking their time, moving slowly, working together. Boots were tugged off, buttons were released, fabric slid from shoulders and arms. All the while, they touched and explored, as if amazed by every next bit of flesh that was revealed. Which she was. She knew his body so well, the line of his shoulders, the length of his torso. It was all so familiar, yet so different at the same time, leaner in some places, more muscular in others. She could only imagine he felt the same, as his fingers stroked her breasts, her belly, her hips. She knew her body was different than it had been. She’d gotten older, rounder in places. A trace of anxiety flickered through her. She hoped he liked what he saw.

One glance at his face, his eyes unerringly focused on her, said he did.

Finally, there was nothing else covering them and they stood bare before each other. His hands trailed along her sides as he stepped forward and kissed her once more. They almost immediately deepened it together. His arms went around her, his hands finding her hips and lifting her off her feet. Her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest, the heat of his skin burning against her own. She wound her arms around his neck as he stepped forward, carrying her to the bed. There was a sound when his legs hit the edge of it. Then he was lowering her onto it, easing her on the mattress, stretching out beside her.

As his hands moved over her body, his mouth over hers, it struck her that they’d never done this before, never made love in an actual bed. Back then, they’d had to find a place together wherever they could, and a bed had never entered the equation. Instead, they’d made love in the bed of his truck, parked in an isolated, out-of-the-way spot, or on a blanket spread out under the stars. They’d certainly never lacked for not having been in a bed. Wherever they’d been, it had been lovely. All they’d needed was each other.

But still, it was nice to be in a bed this time. It was like a new experience for them, as if it were their first time. And it was, their first time since they’d found each other again. It seemed right somehow.