Read Tall, Dark, and Texan Online
Authors: JODI THOMAS
Tall, Dark, and Texan (22 page)
Halfway across the dark kitchen, she realized her mistake. He wasn’t in the hallway or on the porch. He’d blown out the light and remained in his chair at the kitchen table.
She turned slowly, barely able to make out his outline.
He didn’t move.
Like a deer caught by sudden light, she became a statue. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. As if by remaining perfectly still, he might not notice her.
Closing her eyes, she thought of him. She knew he was too proud to come to her, that doing so somehow would admit a weakness, a need within him, but she’d seen the longing in his eyes, felt it in his touch.
Like a ghost, she moved toward him. Opening her eyes, she let her gaze study him. The hard set of his shoulders, the stiff way he waited almost as if he expected an attack.
He didn’t move when she reached him, but her eyes had adjusted enough to the night to see his gaze devoured her.
She gently pushed her knee against his, and he opened his leg. She moved closer until his powerful thighs braced her legs. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his.
No response.
On the second kiss, she pressed harder.
If he’d said a word or asked her what she thought she was doing, she would have run back up the stairs, but he didn’t move.
Frustrated, she slid her tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him again. If he didn’t like what she was doing, he was going to have to show some sign.
She felt the hint of a smile before his lips softened to her kiss. Then he kissed her back.
Gently, as if he feared she might break, his arms circled round her and lifted her up as he stood. “We’ll continue this discussion in the study,” he whispered against her mouth as he walked down the hallway.
The moonlight shone bright through the big windows. She saw his smile as he broke the kiss only long enough to make sure there wasn’t a cat sleeping in his chair. Then she was cuddled into his lap again, and his kiss continued.
After a while, she straightened and pulled away. He didn’t try to stop her. He simply watched as she unbuttoned her gown.
“Touch me again, Teagen,” she whispered.
He ran his fingertips down from her collar until they rested between her breasts, then he gently tugged the gown to one side until a pink tip was exposed. She watched him as he studied her flesh, barely touching her with his hand for a long moment before he leaned down and kissed her breast with a tenderness that made her shiver.
She wrapped her arms around him and cried softly at the joy she felt. He held her to him and let her cry, stroking her back as her tears fell against his shoulder.
She had no idea if he knew how much his touch meant to her. This hard man who never seemed to say the right words was the only person who’d ever made her feel desired.
Before her tears stopped, he began kissing her. Gently, at first, as if not wanting to frighten her, then deeper and deeper until she gulped for air each time he set her mouth free.
Without allowing her time to calm her heartbeat, he wrapped his big hand into her hair and pulled her back to him again and again as if he needed to drink more of her.
Her mouth opened to him, and he took all she gave with each kiss, then backed away as if fearing he demanded too much.
She caught her breath and laughed, then he pulled her to him once more with renewed desire.
Once, he stopped long enough to whisper against her mouth, “I can’t get enough of the taste of you, Jess.”
“I’m here,” she answered, letting her mouth play against his. “There is no hurry. Taste me all you want.”
He crushed her against him and let out a low groan like an animal in pain; then his arms cradled her gently once more, and his kiss became tender, telling her how dearly he wanted her near.
When she finally pulled away, he made no effort to stop her as she fell back against his arm.
“I needed that.” She laughed.
“Me, too,” he admitted.
His hands moved over her gown, calming her, while she rested against his shoulder, feeling boneless in his arms. He brushed over her breasts as if he knew his touch would be welcomed, and his hand spread over her tummy. He seemed to be learning every curve of her, and she’d grown used to his boldness.
She let him touch her, welcomed it. When he lowered his mouth to hers again, the kiss remained tender. Long, slow kisses that made her feel like she was floating. Her lips, once bruised by his demanding kisses, now felt raw, sensitive to even the slight movements of his mouth over her. She relaxed in his arms as he pulled her against his heart.
He fell asleep with his hand over her breast.
Jessie enjoyed the slow beat of his heart until she knew he slept soundly; then she crawled from his lap and tiptoed back to bed. They hadn’t talked tonight. Problems still lay between them, but something had changed. Something she wasn’t sure either of them was willing to admit.
CHAPTER 21TEAGEN WOKE ALONE. FOR A WHILE HE DIDN’T OPEN his eyes. He wanted to relive every moment with Jessie. She’d stepped into his arms so easily last night, asking nothing. He’d wanted her so badly he’d almost devoured her.
Yet, even when he’d kissed her hard and long, she’d welcomed him. He’d barely given her time to breathe. Her lips were probably bruised with his demands, yet she hadn’t pulled away. She’d let him touch her, mold her, explore her so willingly he’d drunk her in like cool water on a hot day.
Even though he’d forced himself to slow down and kiss her with the tenderness she deserved, he knew he was only kidding himself. He wanted Jessie with a fire that might consume them both.
Before last night, when she’d come to him, he’d been convinced it would be better to stay away from her than torture himself with halfway passion.
But for once in his life he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do something. She belonged to him . . . belonged in his arms. And, he realized, Jessie belonged in his bed. He might never climb the stairs to her room, but he had no objection to her visiting his room.
His thoughts drifted to what might have happened if he’d carried her, not to the study, but to his room. His bed. Would she still have moaned with joy and stretched so willingly against the brush of his hands over her?
The vision he’d seen in the mirror flooded his mind. When he had time alone with her, he’d let her know his door would always be open. Rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, he thought of the way he’d kissed her. He grinned, remembering the way she’d kissed him back.
He had no doubt that he was the first man to ever kiss her. How could his friend have lived with her for all those years and never kissed her?
Teagen knew the answer. For some men the act of love-making was only breeding. He’d read that some religions even preach that it should be no more. But how could any man look at Jessie and want so little?
He stood and stormed outside to wash up at the stand by the well. With the dawn he had to shove the night and Jessie’s touch away. He had work to do. He couldn’t go around day-dreaming like some half-grown boy.
After dumping a bucket of water over his head to try to clear his thoughts, he shook his hair and heard a giggle.
Teagen looked up to see Rose watching him from the steps.
“Why’d you do that?”
“It gets the sleep out of my brain,” he answered.
“Martha says coffee does that for her. Maybe if you poured coffee in that bucket, you’d wake up even faster.”
“Maybe,” he answered as he pulled on a clean shirt and stepped on the porch. He didn’t feel up to the kid’s questions, but his frown didn’t make her disappear.
“Em,” she called. “Come help.”
Before he could pull away, Rose grabbed his first two fingers and began to pull. He stepped forward, and she smiled, took another stance and pulled again. Emily hurried to his other side and, without looking up at him, began to push on his leg.
He moved another foot closer to the kitchen door, and they both relaxed for a moment, took deep breaths, and began again. If he’d wanted to, he could have ignored their efforts, but they seemed to be trying so hard, he took another step.
“What are you doing?” He leaned down to Rose, knowing he’d never get the answer out of Emily.
The little five-year-old put her hands on her hips as if she were dealing with a bothersome giant of a child. “Martha says you sometimes have a hard time stepping into civilization in the morning, and we all need to help.” Without another word, she began tugging once more.
Teagen frowned at them and then suddenly laughed. They thought they were helping him, and from the look of it, both were willing to give it their all.
He let them direct him into the kitchen and push him toward a chair. Then Rose stood in front of him and stared hard. “Are you there yet, Mister?”
“I’m close,” He ran his hand through his wet hair and finished buttoning his shirt.
Rose patted his hand. “You’re trying, I can tell, and a try is only a step away from a can.”
Martha walked in the room and raised an eyebrow. “Morning, Teagen,” she said. “You’re up early.”
“I’m being dragged into civilization.”
“About time.”
He frowned at the old housekeeper, who poured him a cup of coffee and went about making breakfast.
Rose still stood at his side. “Mister?”
“Yes,” he said fighting down a smile.
“Are you our father now?”
Teagen and Jessie had never talked about what they’d tell the children. He wasn’t sure what she’d want him to say. “Do you want me to be, Rose?”
She propped her elbows on the table and shook her head. “Emily and me don’t want another father. Our father was always yelling at us and he made Mom cry sometimes.”
Teagen was starting to question his judgment in friends. Eli had seemed so logical, so reasonable, in his letters. How could the man be so different?
Drinking his coffee, he thought of his own father. He’d worked hard, but he’d never been unkind. “I called my father Papa when I was a kid. He never made my mom cry.”
Rose frowned. “Did he let you talk to him?”
“Every night, and when it stormed, he’d take my brothers and me out on the porch. We’d curl up in a blanket and watch the storms roll in over the land. He’d tell us stories of growing up in Ireland.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in heaven, I guess, with my mother.”
“Our father is in the ground,” Emily whispered.
Teagen almost reached out to touch the thin child on his right, but he knew he’d only frighten her. This conversation was way over his level of skill. He was glad to see Jessie walk into the room with Bethie on her hip.
She looked all proper and stiff with her hair pulled back in a bun and her black dress. Little remained of the woman he’d held in his arms a few hours ago. Perhaps her bottom lip was a little fuller from being kissed; maybe her cheek bore a hint more red from the blush that had burned in the shadows when he’d cupped her breast.
Teagen wished he were civilized enough to think of something to say to her. But, “I want you like you were last night,” didn’t seem right for breakfast conversation, so he just watched her.
She helped Martha and handled the girls with gentle guidance. Then, for the first time in over a month, she sat down next to him. She didn’t touch him, but her simple gesture seemed to settle his world. There were things that needed to be said between them, but they could wait another day . . . another night.
Sage came in, complaining about the heat already being too warm for this early, and she and Martha wished for rain. Rose ate her breakfast and asked, “How come Sage can put sugar in her coffee, and I can’t have sugar in my milk?”
They talked about the day, all that needed doing and all that would have to wait until tomorrow. When Teagen stood, Emily jumped from her chair and ran for her hat. She stood at the door without a word.
Teagen strapped on his gun belt and grabbed his hat, then finally turned to her. “What is it, Em?”
All he could see was the top of her head as she stared at her feet. “Can I ride out with you as far as the end of the corral? Sage has been teaching me. I’ll turn around then and come right back, I promise.”
“Look at me, Emily?” He tried to keep his voice low.
When she looked up, he swore she trembled as if a tornado were shaking the house.
“If you ride, you follow orders.”
Her head bobbed.
“Then you can ride.”
Sage laughed. “You see, Em, I told you he’d let you. Come on along, and I’ll help you saddle up.”
Teagen glanced back at Jessie but spotted Rose halfway between them. The middle child looked like she was going to cry.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Rose as Sage and Emily hurried out.
“Who is going to help me count all the pigs? And gather eggs, and say hello to the toads, and . . .”
“How about Bethie?” Teagen tried.
“She can’t count.” Rose frowned.
“You could teach her.”
Rose studied her little sister. “I suppose, but it’s another job that will take me hours.”
“I could let you have Sage’s old chalkboard, and we could make a desk up,” Martha offered.
Rose watched as Jessie wiped the baby’s fingers and set her on the floor. She took her sister’s hand and shrugged her shoulders almost to her ears. “All right. I’ll do it, but I’ll have to teach her to talk first, and heaven only knows how long that will take.”
With her sister in tow, she followed Martha out of the room.
It took Teagen a minute to realize he and Jessie were alone. When their eyes met, he swore he could read her mind. She’d been smiling at her daughters, then slowly her smile turned into something quite different.
He watched as she crossed the room and stood a few feet from him.
“I want to touch you.” He said the only thing on his mind.
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