Til Death Do Us Part (13 page)

With her head still resting on his chest, she nodded, then whispered her agreement. Gently shoving her upward until she straddled him again, he gripped the hem of her gown, which rested about her hips.

“May I take this off?” he asked.

“My gown? Yes. It's all right. Take it off.”

He pulled her gown up over her head, tossed it on the floor on top of his jeans and then rolled her over onto her back. While he anointed her face with dozens of sweet
kisses, he ran his hands over her breasts, cupping them, lifting them, caressing their roundness.

Her nipples beaded into hard buds. Her breasts felt heavy and achy. “J.T.?”

“It's all right, honey. I know what you want.” While he suckled one breast, he stroked the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Joanna's lower body lifted off the bed, the movement completely instinctive. “Oh, J.T., please, do something. I'm aching so.”

He rose over her and looked down at her face, her beautiful face, flushed and damp with passion. His gaze traveled over her breasts, round and full, the nipples tight with desire.

Lowering his head, he kissed her belly. She moaned. He painted a moist trail downward until his lips encountered the fiery red triangle between her legs. “Let me touch you…here.” He nuzzled her with his nose.

“Yes. Please.”

J.T. cupped her softly, petting her, then slipped his fingers inside the hot, wet folds of her body. She quivered uncontrollably for a few seconds, then closed her thighs, capturing his hand.

“Easy, Jo. Easy, sweet darling.”

She relaxed her legs and allowed him to part them slowly. After he'd settled himself between her legs, his lips sought and found the secret heart of her. When he kissed her there, she cried out. When his tongue worked tirelessly against her, she clutched his shoulders and wept as her body tightened and released, tightened and released, until she was wound so tight, she was wild with need. With one final stroke, he sent her over the edge, then lifted himself upward to take her cries of completion into his mouth.

She shuddered as spasms of earth-shattering ecstasy
claimed her body. Taking her in his arms, J.T. rolled them over, positioning her on top of him. He had to take her—take her now—or he'd die on the spot.

“I want you, Jo. I want you so much.”

“Yes. Please. Now,” she cried, as the remnants of her release echoed through her body.

J.T. lifted Joanna and brought her down onto him, thrusting inside her. She gasped several times, then whimpered softly.

“Are you all right?” he asked, praying he hadn't hurt her.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

Nothing he'd ever experienced had prepared him for the feel of being inside Joanna, of becoming her lover. She was hot and wet and tight. So very tight. Her body sheathed him like a glove. A perfect fit.

“Take charge, honey,” he said. “Do whatever you want to do to me.”

“I want to make love to you, J.T., but I'm not sure I know how. I've never… I mean, there wasn't anyone before—”

“You and your fiancé never made love?” Was it possible? he wondered. Had she been a virgin when Lenny Plott raped her?

“No. Todd and I didn't make love. I wanted to wait.”

“Then I'm the first,” J.T. said.

“You would be, if…if I hadn't been—”

“I'm your first,” he told her, moving out and then back in, claiming her as his own. “No other man has ever been your lover.”

She wept, tears of joy and of sorrow. Tears that washed away any residue of shame she'd felt. Tears that proclaimed her gratitude. He might not realize the truth him
self, but Joanna knew, in her heart of hearts, that J.T. was the other half of her, her life's partner, her soul mate.

“Making love is so easy,” he said, “when you want each other the way we do.”

“I do want you, J.T. I want you so desperately.”

“Then take me, honey. Ride me…hard and fast. Give us both what we want…what we need.”

Pure, primitive feminine instinct took over, guiding her into a mating ritual as old as time. She moved, slowly, tentatively, uncertain of herself and of him at first. But as the momentum inside her body gradually built, she gave herself over to the passion, to the basic animal urges she didn't want to control. J.T. stroked and petted her hips and buttocks. He suckled at her breasts, moving from one to the other, paying equal homage. And he whispered sweet, dark, erotic words of praise, and in the moment of fulfillment, he cried out to her,
“Ayóí óosh'ni,”
the words strange to his own ears, the language the Navajo tongue of his childhood.

She whispered his name over and over, telling him that she loved him, as release claimed her only seconds after he fell headlong into completion.

He held her in his arms, atop his sweat-dampened body. She cuddled to him, not wanting to move, wishing they could stay this way forever. Happy, fulfilled, complete, and safe from the outside world.

He spread a line of kisses along her cheek and jaw, then reached down, pulled up the sheet and covered them.

“Shouldn't I move?” she asked. “I can't stay on top of you all night. I'm too heavy.”

“I don't want you to move,” he said, stroking her hip. “Go to sleep right where you are, honey.”

Sighing, she relaxed on top of him, then kissed his
chest. “What did you say to me when…just as you…you know…those strange words? Were they Navajo?”

“I don't speak
Saad.
” He kissed the top of her head resting on his chest. “Or at least I haven't since I was a little boy. I don't have any idea what I said. It must have been something I remembered from my childhood.”

“Something very wonderful?” she asked.

“If I said it to you, then it had to be something wonderful.”

“Thank you, J.T. Thank you for making this so good for me—so special.”

“Don't thank me, Jo. I should be thanking you. Do you know how honored I feel knowing I'm your first lover?”

“But that's why… Don't you understand?” She cuddled into him as if she were trying to bore her way inside him, seeking shelter and safety in the harbor of his big, strong body. “Todd wanted to be the first. He wanted a virgin bride.”

“I told you, honey, the man was a bastard. And a stupid one, at that.” J.T. wrapped her tightly in his arms, cocooning her in his warmth and strength, protecting her in the safe haven of his embrace. “What Lenny Plott did to you had nothing to do with making love. In every way that matters, you were still a virgin until tonight.”

“Do you really believe that?” She could not stop the tears, could not keep herself from clinging to J.T., could not keep her heart from bursting with the joy of loving such a special man.

J.T. took her chin in his hand, lifted her face and kissed the tip of her nose. “The way I see it, you gave your virginity to me tonight. I'm your only lover. There's never been another man. Only me.”

“Yes. Only you.” Only you, J.T. For now and always. My only lover. My only love.

 

J
OANNA AWOKE SHORTLY
after dawn in J.T.'s arms and found him watching her. They made love again, lingering over every touch, drawing out every sighed expression. He was as tender, as gentle and as passionate the second time as he'd been the first, and their fulfillment had been even more complete. Joanna had never dreamed loving someone could be so good. Now, she truly understood how Annabelle had felt about Benjamin.

When she roused from sleep the second time, she was alone in bed. She called out to J.T. He answered her from the kitchen, telling her to stay put. She waited patiently for his return. Within minutes he entered the bedroom. Joanna's heart filled with warmth at the sight of him standing there wearing nothing but his briefs and carrying a tray of food. He set the tray at the foot of the bed, then eased himself down beside her.

“Breakfast is served.” He dragged the tray up the bed and lifted it on top of their laps. “I whip up a mean batch of scrambled eggs, if I do say so myself.”

Joanna inspected the tray, taking note of the white rose lying on her napkin. “You picked one of Elena's prized roses! She'll kill you.”

“How's she going to know one's missing?” J.T. shrugged, then picked up a glass of orange juice and handed it to Joanna.

She took a sip. Her eyes widened. “This is fresh-squeezed. I don't believe it. You're a man of many talents.”

“Oh, honey, you've just seen a few of my many talents.” He slipped his hand under her gown and up the inside of her leg.

“Behave yourself.” Joanna swatted at his hand. “We can't play around all day. Mother will be up soon and if I don't confront her up at the main house, she'll be down here trying to move in with me.”

J.T. removed his hand from beneath her gown. “I've been trying to forget that your mother is still here.” Lifting his mug to his lips, he took a hearty swallow of sweet, black coffee. “Jo?”

“Uh-hmm?” She finished off her orange juice.

“Last night I told your mother to make reservations to fly home to Virginia today.”

“I'll bet she loved being ordered to get out of Dodge,” Joanna said. “She's probably ready for a showdown this morning.”

“I can deal with your mother by myself, if you'd rather not see her again.”

“Don't do that.” Joanna placed her hand on J.T.'s shoulder. “Don't start trying to fight all my battles, especially not the ones with my mother. I'm not the fragile, helpless creature she made me out to be, even if last night I—”

“You were no fragile, helpless creature last night,” he said. “You were a woman filled with powerful emotions who took charge of our lovemaking.” Covering her hand with his, he lifted it and brought it to his lips. “You are brave and strong and so very beautiful. You're everything a woman should be. Don't hold it against me because I'm an old-fashioned, macho kind of guy. I can't help wanting to protect you. And not just from Lenny Plott, but from anything or anyone who could hurt you.”

She cupped the side of his face with her hand, leaned over and kissed him. “I won't hold it against you, if you're willing to accept the fact that I need to be the one to make my decisions, to be in control of my life, as much as possible.”

“I understand.” He returned her kiss. The tray on their laps slid off the side of the bed, hitting the floor with a resounding crash.

They looked down at their scrambled eggs and toast
scattered across the handwoven rug and wooden floor, then they both laughed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down in the bed, devouring her with kisses. She rubbed her body against his, moaning as ripples of pleasure radiated through her.

The loud pounding on the front door ended their passion before it went any further. They sat up straight in the bed.

“Who the hell?” J.T. grumbled as he got out of bed, picked up his jeans and struggled to get into them as he crossed the room. “If that's your mother, I'll strangle her.”

Joanna glanced at the bedside clock. “It can't be Mother. It's only seven o'clock. She's never up and dressed this early unless there's an emergency.”

By the time he'd made his way to the front door, J.T. had managed to zip and button his jeans, but his chest and feet were still bare.

“Whoever it is, go away,” J.T. said through the closed door. “Everything is fine here.”

“J.T.?” a man's voice said, the tone husky, the accent Southern. “Come on. Open up. We need to talk.”

J.T. unlocked the door, swung it open and stared into the face of his old FBI friend, Dane Carmichael. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I've got news on Plott,” Dane said. “Bad news.”

“Come on in.” J.T. held open the door.

Dane walked in, glanced around the living room and then down the hall. “Where's Ms. Beaumont?”

“She isn't up yet,” J.T. said. “What's this about Plott? And why didn't you just call me?” J.T.'s gut instincts told him that Dane Carmichael wouldn't be here unless the Bureau had sent him.

“We're going to be sending a man out here to New Mexico and another one to Texas.”

“Why?” J.T. asked. “And why just New Mexico and Texas? One of Plott's victims lives in Missouri.”

“We've already got people in Missouri,” Dane said. “Claire Andrews has disappeared.”

“What?” Joanna stood in the hallway, one hand clutching the lapels of her robe where they crossed over her chest, her other hand knotted into a tight fist at her side.

“Jo, honey.” J.T. rushed over to her, put his arm around her and guided her into the living room.

“What happened to Claire?” Joanna asked. “Has Lenny Plott kidnapped her?”

J.T. held Joanna close to his side, supporting her trembling body with his strength.

“Ms. Beaumont, I'm Agent Carmichael, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And I'm afraid we don't know for sure what happened to Ms. Andrews,” Dane said. “Her boyfriend called us when she didn't come home from work yesterday. Claire worked at a local grocery store. Everyone in town knows her, and yet no one has any idea how she simply disappeared when so many people were supposedly looking out for her.”

“He found her and kidnapped her and—” Joanna's breathing became fast and frantic “—raped her and killed her. That's what he said he'd do to her…to all of us.”

J.T. pulled Joanna into his arms. She buried her face in his chest. He ran one hand up and down her back, soothing her, while he held her hip with the other.

“We're going to put a man in the vicinity. I'm here now doing preliminary planning,” Dane said. “I know you don't need help guarding Ms. Beaumont. Our man will be here to do a job—to apprehend Plott—while your job is defending Ms. Beaumont. If we're lucky, we'll catch Plott before he gets anywhere near the ranch.”