Justin's Bride (26 page)

He'd been running from the truth since the day he'd arrived. There was no point anymore. The truth was sitting in the window seat not ten feet from him. She'd always been the one to get to him. She would never believe that, no matter how many times he told her. She would never know the extent of her power, or his love. In a way he was glad. If she didn't suspect the truth about that, she would never know how much of him she'd destroyed when she'd sent him away.

He wanted to hate her for making him weak. He couldn't. He'd spent his whole life caring about Megan Bartlett. He knew now he always would.

The truth hit him square in the eye, like an unseen first blow in a fight. He jerked his head back, reeling from the impact. Damn it all to hell. He couldn't escape her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“As if you'd like to strangle me...and kiss me, all at once.”

He straightened and gulped down the rest of his brandy. “I would like to do both.”

Her big eyes widened. “I wouldn't mind the kissing part, but I'd prefer not to be strangled.”

He swallowed. Hard. “That's the brandy talking. I warned you what would happen the next time we kissed. Have you forgotten so quickly?”

She flushed the color of the rosettes sewn on the bodice of her gown, then wiped her hands on her dress and slowly rose to her feet. “I—I haven't forgotten. I'd still like you to kiss me.”

“You'd sound a lot more sincere if you'd stop shaking with fear, little girl.” He told himself the growl in his voice was from anger and not sexual anticipation. Megan didn't know what she was asking. He had to be strong for both of them. It would have been easier if she would quit looking at him as if he was the most wonderful man in the world—they both knew that wasn't true—and as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“I'm a little nervous,” she admitted, taking a step toward him. “But it's not the brandy talking, it's me. I only took one sip. You were wrong. It doesn't taste better.”

“That's the only thing I've been wrong about today,” he muttered. “It's time for you to go, Megan. You've stayed in my room, you've shown everyone in town. Try as you might to change my mind, I'm determined to send you home as innocent as you were when you arrived.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He nearly groaned aloud. He didn't need her untutored seduction. He wasn't strong enough to resist her. He'd never been strong enough.

“Why the sudden change?” she asked, stepping closer. “Seven years ago, you were furious at me for wanting to keep our relationship and engagement a secret. Now you're the one who wants to hide everything.”

“I'm older and wiser, and you should be grateful one of us is still talking sense.” He wanted to stand up, but he knew if he did, she would move closer. He didn't think he would have the strength to let her go once he'd touched her, or worse, once she'd touched him. He wasn't sure he could make it to the door before they came in contact with each other. His only hope was to force her away with words, to hurt her enough that she would leave on her own.

“I'm talking the best kind of sense,” she said and took the last step between them. When she was directly in front of him, she leaned forward and placed her gloved hands on the arms of his chair.

An audible groan escaped his lips. Her cleavage was directly at eye level. It would take a better man than himself not to look, and everyone knew he was just the town bastard. He feasted visually on her generous white breasts, remembering how they'd filled his hands, recalling the tightness of her nipples, the sweetness of her through the thin layer of her silk chemise. His fingers curled into his palms as his hardness throbbed heavily against the placket of his trousers.
Dear God, give me strength.

“Kiss me, Justin. I want to know. I need to know, just once. After today, I won't have another chance. I'm going to be ruined, anyway.”

She closed in on him. Her mouth was inches away. He could feel her warm breath on his face. Her silk skirt rustled against his legs.

He'd wanted her since the first day he'd seen her, nearly a lifetime ago. He'd loved her just as long. For years he'd denied himself the one thing he wanted most, coveted most, needed most.

He stood up, forcing her to take a step back. Her eyes held his. Their hazel depths asked questions, but there was no fear in them. Only the purest of desire mingling with excited expectation.

She trusted him. The weight of that trust nearly brought him to his knees. He knew it was wrong. He knew there would be regrets. He could handle his own. He would regret the briefness of this moment, the realization that none of this had anything to do with him and everything to do with what she'd decided she had to prove.

Her regrets would destroy him. She would regret what they'd done. She would hate him.

“You'll be sorry,” he said softly.

“Never.” She placed a gloved hand on his chest.

Did she know she lied?

“Leave now, because if you don't, I'm going to take you to my bed.” And never let you go. Only, he couldn't say that part.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He stared into her eyes, then at her trembling mouth. He should be stronger, but she'd always been his greatest weakness. He'd never been able to resist her. That hadn't changed in the seven years he'd been gone. Neither had the fact that he'd always loved her, that he still loved her.

He lowered his mouth to hers.

M
egan thought she'd prepared herself for Justin's kiss. They'd kissed many times in the past. Heavens, they'd kissed just a few hours ago in his office. She hadn't expected this time would be any different. She hadn't expected to be plunged into a sensual whirlpool, to be swept away by heat and taste and feeling. She hadn't thought he would reduce her to mindlessness.

His mouth touched hers, molding itself to her, taking her without pausing for question or permission. Before, he'd teased her into delighted acquiescence; this time, he plunged forward, daring her to keep pace. His tongue slipped between her parted lips and swept toward hers. He brushed against her waiting moistness, circling, thrilling her beyond reason.

She clung to his shoulders because there was nothing else solid in her world. She held on because she would fall if she didn't. Not just to her knees, although her legs trembled violently, but into another place, another realm of living where there was only sensation and desire and she felt as lost and confused as a newborn babe.

His hands touched her back, her sides, then pulled her closer and tilted her hips against his. He was all male need, frightening and very exciting. Through the layers of her dress, she felt little except for the vague outline of his form. Was he engorged as he had been in her shop? She wanted to look, or even touch, but she didn't dare. She was still in shock from her own bold behavior. She couldn't believe she'd actually invited him to teach her about those secrets that had always intrigued her.

“Megan.” He whispered her name like a prayer. As if his desire for her was greater than both of them combined.

He moved his mouth from hers and trailed kisses along her jaw to her neck, then lower, lower still, until firm, warm lips traced the curves of her bosom. Until her fingers curled into his white shirt.

Instinctively, she arched her head back. It was difficult to breathe, so very difficult. Everywhere he touched was like fire on her skin—searing heat that made her blood run faster, and her heart flutter in her chest.

He dipped his tongue into the shadowed valley between her breasts. She nearly swooned from the sensation. Again and again he licked her skin, sipping deeply, slowly, taunting her with silent promises.

When she thought she would perish from pleasure, when she knew that this magic touch was the most wonderful she had ever encountered, he moved from her breasts and nibbled along her chest up her neck, until he reached her ear. In the back of her mind she wondered if she should protest his liberties, then almost laughed aloud. She wanted this. She had deliberately come to his room, knowing what might happen. At first, she'd just thought to stay for an hour or so, just long enough for the scandal to begin. But after she'd watched him watching her, after she'd seen the passion flare in his eyes and felt the flickering answer deep in her soul, she'd known she couldn't leave. Not until she knew. Not until she'd been with him.

It wasn't just about learning the mysteries that had been denied her, or the fact that once she was ruined, no one would ever want her. It was that Justin had said he was leaving. Still. In a few months he would be gone, taking Bonnie with him. Megan knew he would never trust her enough to ask her to go with him. She would never be able to make up for what had happened between them all those years ago. No matter how she protested youth, or fear, he wouldn't forgive her. There might never be another time for them. Colleen might very well force her from town. She didn't know, and as he took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked, she found she didn't care. This was wrong, by the world's rules. It was probably the worst thing she'd ever done. Yet nothing else had felt so right.

He returned his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, until she was sure every inch of her mouth had been attended to. Until she was tingling down to her toes curling in her shoes. Her breasts ached, as if they were calling him back to them. Her nipples pressed against her chemise. Even the cool silk was too much of a barrier. She remembered how he'd placed his mouth on her nipples once before. She wanted him to do that again.

She arched against him, turning her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss between them. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his head. His hair slipped through her fingers as she held him still. She rubbed her chest against his, trying to get closer, to be with him, a part of him. His hands cupped her waist, then moved up her back to the long row of hooks. She'd about dislocated her shoulder getting them all fastened. Justin unhooked them easily, one by one.

Fear nibbled at the edge of her consciousness. She pushed it away, but the insidious creature returned. She didn't want to be afraid. She wanted to be with Justin. She needed this.

Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she thought about how much she cared for him, about the contrast between his silky hair and the stubbly line of his jaw. She stroked his throat and neck, finding the line where the stubble ended and his smoother skin began.

His mouth slid away from hers. “Did you do this with him?” he asked.

“Who?”

“That man you were engaged to. Did you do this with him?” He bent low and placed his lips against her neck. She felt the intensity of his sucking, followed by the nibble of teeth. She inhaled her pleasure.

“No, never. He kissed me a few times, but not like you do.”

“So he never unhooked your dress?”

His question once again focused her attention on his fingers along her back. They'd passed her waist and were reaching for the last few hooks over her derriere.

“No,” she whispered.

“He never did this, then,” he said, stepping back and tugging her dress down her arms until it pooled at her waist.

She resisted the urge to cover herself. Justin stared at her as if she was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. Dark hair tumbled onto his forehead. His brown eyes glowed from an inner, raging fire. That same heat reached out to warm her, sending sparks along her arms and belly, settling in her breasts and her female place.

Justin moved behind her and untied her petticoats. He pushed them and her dress off her hips, until everything was bunched around her knees. Then he bent over and slipped one arm behind her legs and the other behind her back. After picking her up, he held her against his chest.

She clung to him, her right arm around his neck, her left hand pressed against him. She could feel the strength of his arms through the thin layer of her pantaloons.

Brown eyes held hers. “Tell me you want this,” he commanded.

She'd never felt so safe, she realized. Held like this in Justin's arms. The vague unease at being undressed in front of him didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the moment and the man. Nothing mattered but how he made her feel and the knowledge that in the seven years he'd been gone, he hadn't forgotten her.

Her free hand reached up to touch his face. She traced his mouth, then touched the scar across his chin. She remembered the knife fight he'd gotten into so many years ago. Three boys had jumped him from behind. One had pulled a knife. Megan had been walking home from her father's store and had seen everything. Even now she could remember the taste of fear and how she'd prayed he would survive.

Before she'd gathered herself enough to go for help, he'd subdued two of the boys and had turned on the third, the one with the knife. They'd fought silently. The boy had lashed out, cutting Justin's face, but that had been his last act. Faster than her eyes had been able to follow, Justin had punched the boy, knocking him to the ground. The other two had carried away their defeated friend. Without stopping to think about what would happen if they were seen talking together, Megan had pulled out a handkerchief and taken it to Justin. She'd been fifteen at the time. A girl. He'd been nearly eighteen, and very much a man.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“About how you got this.” She touched the scar.

He grimaced. “I should have been paying attention. I knew they were following me, but you distracted me.”

“Did I? Really?” She didn't bother pretending not to be pleased.

“Oh, Megan, if you only knew the truth.” Sadness doused some of the fire in his eyes.

“Justin, don't. Don't think about it. Don't think about anything right now. Please.” She didn't know what else to do, so she bent her head toward him and kissed him.