Читать книгу The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene - Brenda Jackson - Страница 13
ОглавлениеSix
Jasmine stared at her car not believing what she saw. Of all things, she had a flat tire. She tried to remember what she had learned in that auto mechanics class she and Ronnie had taken a few years ago, and couldn’t recall much of anything. And when she tried using her mobile phone to call for road service, she had discovered her phone battery was low and she couldn’t make the call.
She had just come from a press conference at Crofthaven. The coroner’s report had ruled that Martha Jones, whose body had been identified in the attic last week, had died of a heart attack. It seemed that Martha had had a congenital heart condition and had run away from home several times in the past. From what the authorities had been able to piece together, after a heated argument with her overly protective mother, at the age of sixteen Martha had gone to the attic to hide out when she’d suffered a fatal heart attack. Since that part of the house was never used, Martha’s body had gone undiscovered for three years.
Jasmine sighed and glanced around. There weren’t too many cars traveling by and those who’d passed hadn’t slowed down to offer help. Thinking she would save time getting home, she had decided to use the two-lane stretch of road instead of the interstate to avoid rush-hour traffic. Now she didn’t like the thought of being stranded.
Maybe if she took a look at the tools she had in the trunk, she might recall how to change a tire. She went to the back of her car and began pulling out her jack and spare tire.
When she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, she nervously glanced over her shoulder. She was alone on a practically deserted stretch of highway. Releasing the jack from her hand she gripped her key chain that also held her pepper spray.
Ready to take aim if she had to, she turned quickly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was Wesley. She didn’t think she could be happier to see him.
“Need help?”
She shook her head. “Yes, please. I’ve got a flat tire. Do you know how to change one?”
He grinned. “Of course. If you need transportation for another interview, you can take my car and I’ll take care of things here and bring your car to you later.”
She glanced at his elegant silver-gray Mercedes and thought his offer was more than generous. “No, I’m all through for today and was on my way home. I tried calling road service but my cell-phone battery is low.”
“No problem. I’ll take over from here. If you’d like, you can go sit in my car and turn on the air conditioner. It’s getting pretty hot out here.” He couldn’t help noticing how her blouse had become damp and was beginning to stick to her perfectly shaped breasts. Today she was wearing a pair of slacks so he couldn’t see the gorgeous legs he’d thought about so often.
“No, I’m fine. Besides, I need to watch what you’re doing so I can learn what to do the next time.”
He met her gaze as he moved toward her trunk. “I hope there’s not a next time.” He meant it. He didn’t like the idea of her being stranded on an isolated stretch of road with a flat tire. He would have come by sooner had he not been talking with Harold and Miranda Danforth.
He’d considered them his unofficial adoptive parents for the past fourteen years. Miranda had been scolding him about looking too thin and not eating enough. He had decided to use the two-lane highway instead of the interstate due to rush-hour traffic and was glad that he had. He didn’t want to think how long Jasmine might have been stranded had he not come by.
“I hope there’s not a next time, too, but I still want to watch,” she said moving out of his way when he pulled out the jack and spare tire.
A few moments later she regretted watching Wesley. She barely paid any attention to what he was doing. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She couldn’t help noticing his powerful arms and broad shoulders and the way his slacks stretched tight across his muscular thighs as he removed the flat tire.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he was done. “That about does it, but you should get this tire fixed sometime tomorrow.”
“I will and thanks for your help. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” he said, placing the flat tire in her trunk. “Just make sure you get this repaired tomorrow.”
Jasmine nodded, then remembered she’d been planning to cook spaghetti for dinner. Wesley was used to eating the microwave kind and she wondered if he would appreciate eating the real thing for once. She made a quick decision to find out.
“I’m cooking spaghetti tonight. I know how much you like it and wondered if you’d like to join me?”
“For dinner?” he asked, raising a brow as he closed down the trunk.
“Yes, for dinner. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti and a salad.”
Wesley paused. He could think of no reason why he shouldn’t join her for dinner other than the one nagging him. He didn’t want spaghetti and a salad—he wanted her.
“Yes, I’d like to join you for dinner. Thanks for the invitation.”
“Thanks for your help just now. Do you want to follow me home?”
He glanced down at himself. He looked rumpled and felt sweaty. “I’d like to go home, shower and change first.”
“All right and I’ll go on home and start dinner.” A smile spread across her lips before she opened her car door.
“I’ll follow you.”
She lifted a brow. “Why? You fixed my tire.”
“Yes, but I still want to make sure you get home safely. On rare occasions, spares have been known to go flat, too.”
She nodded. “Should I expect you at my place in an hour or so?”
The smile she gave him had hit him right in the groin. “Yes, that would be the right time.”
He began walking back to his car as she started the engine to her vehicle thinking that that shower he intended to take needed to be a cold one.
Wesley smelled the delicious aroma of spaghetti sauce the moment he walked into Jasmine’s home.
“I hope you’re hungry since I made a huge pot,” Jasmine said, closing the door behind him.
She tried to ignore how good he looked in a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt. She recalled the first time she had seen him in jeans—that night he had appeared out of the darkness while she’d been going through his trash. And then, like now, she thought he looked utterly sexy.
“I’ve never known spaghetti to go to waste while I’m around,” Wesley said in an amused voice, breaking into her thoughts.
Jasmine couldn’t help but smile. “Good. You can come straight to the kitchen where I have everything set up. I thought it would be nice to sit on my screened-in patio. Although I don’t have a view of the Savannah River like you do, I have a view of a lake that I think is rather nice.”
“I’m sure it is.” His smile widened when he walked into her kitchen. It was almost as large as his but definitely better equipped. He liked the way she had things set up, including the way several pots hung from a pot rack.
“You can wash your hands in that bathroom across the hall while I get things ready on the patio.”
The cold shower hadn’t done him any good, Wesley thought as he went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He couldn’t get over how good she looked in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Like him, she had decided to dress comfortably for dinner. And yet the casual outfit still managed to turn him on.
When he returned to the kitchen she was loading everything on a serving tray. “There’s a wine rack around the corner in the area that separates the kitchen from the dining area. How about selecting us a bottle?”
“Do you have a preference?” he asked.
“No, whatever you’d like.”
He decided to select a red wine—one he knew was delicious with pasta. When he joined her on the patio, she had set the table and the spaghetti was served in a beautiful ceramic pasta platter. He smiled when he saw she had also baked a batch of garlic bread and he had a feeling it would taste as good as it looked.
“Everything is ready, so sit down and help yourself.”
He did, however, he waited for her to serve herself and say grace before digging in. “Umm…this is delicious,” he said moments later after taking his first forkful.”
“Thanks.”
“Who taught you how to cook?”
“My aunt. I went to live with her for a while after my mom died. She loved to cook and together we would try out a lot of dishes.”
“How long did you live with her?”
“Less than six months. My father loved my mother very much and he took her death extremely hard. He needed to go through that period of mourning alone. I think the only reason he remarried was because he thought he was doing me a favor.”
Although she didn’t say anything else, Wesley knew from what Jasmine had shared with him the other night that her father had unknowingly done her a disservice instead of a favor. It didn’t take much for him to gather that the woman her father had married was the stepmother from hell.
“Is your aunt still living?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, she died five years ago.”
The sadness in her voice touched him. “Other than your father, do you have any other family?”
“No, he was an only child and my mother had that one sister who never had any children of her own,” she said thinking of her aunt Rena.
Wesley said nothing for a moment, and then said. “Your mother was a very beautiful woman.”
She met his gaze, surprised. “How do you know?”
“The locket.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment as she looked into his hazel eyes. She had almost forgotten about the locket and that he still had it. “Yes, she was beautiful.”
“You favor her.”
Jasmine’s breath caught as their gazes held. For a moment she wasn’t sure how to respond. His compliment had caught her off guard.
“Thank you,” she finally said softly.
Wesley and Jasmine enjoyed the rest of their meal while discussing various topics, steering clear of Abraham Danforth and the press conference he’d held earlier that day. However, they did talk about the rumor that had been going around for years that Crofthaven was haunted.
Wesley smiled as he finished off the last of his spaghetti. “I’ve spent a number of nights at Crofthaven and have never seen this ghost people claim is there. However, Reid and Jake swear it exists.”
Jasmine lifted a brow. “Reid? That’s Abraham’s second oldest son, right? The one who’s getting married in a few months.”
“Yes. Reid and Tina Morgan are getting married and everyone is excited about it.” He took a sip of his wine before continuing. “Dinner was wonderful and I appreciate the invitation.”
“I’m glad you could join me. And I really appreciate your help in changing that tire. I’m glad you came along when you did. I was beginning to get a little nervous on that road alone.” She then took a glance at the darkening sky. “I think we might get a thunderstorm tonight.”
Wesley stood. “Then I’d better help you with dishes so I can be on my way.”
“You don’t have to help with dishes, Wesley.”
He chuckled. “Hey, no arguing. It’s the least I can do after enjoying such a delicious meal.”
Jasmine laughed. “Okay, if you insist, but remember I told you that I could do them by myself.”
“I’ll remember but I think four hands will be better than two.”
She washed and he dried while he told her about his Internet sales company and how it got started. He had capitalized on the contacts he had made in college, and she could tell the Danforths had been supportive. This explained his fierce loyalty to the Danforths and why he considered them as his family. In a way she understood because she was fiercely loyal to her father, as well.
“Well, that about does it with the dishes,” she said, putting the last one away. “If you’d like, I can prepare you a bowl of spaghetti to take with you since I have so much left.”
“Are you sure?”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m positive. It won’t take but a second.”
He leaned back against the counter as he watched her spoon a hefty portion of spaghetti into a large bowl and then wrapped it with clear cling wrap. She also wrapped up a few pieces of garlic bread. After bagging up both, she placed the bag in the middle of the table. It was then that they heard the raindrops beginning to fall and a quick glance out the window indicated the clouds had been much closer than they’d thought. The rain was already coming down fast and furious.
“Maybe you should wait until the rain stops,” she said. She walked over to the window and looked out. “It’s a mess out there.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll just wait a while.”
She turned around and met his gaze. “I don’t mind,” she said quietly. She shivered slightly either from the chill that had entered the room or from the way Wesley was looking at her.
He saw her tremble and crossed the room. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He reached out and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in those big powerful arms she had admired earlier when he’d been changing her tire. “This feel better?” he asked. The question had been whispered close to her ear and sent more shivers through her body. Shivers that he felt.
“You’re still shivering,” he said softly. “Maybe I should light your fireplace to warm you up some.”
When he released her, Jasmine looked into his hazel eyes, tempted to tell him that her shivers had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and had everything to do with him.
A fierce storm may have been raging outside but here, inside her kitchen, deep within her body, another storm was raging. This one was just as turbulent as the one outdoors. And it wasn’t helping matters that he was looking at her like she was something he wanted to eat.
“Lighting the fireplace isn’t necessary,” she said softly, barely able to get the words out.
“Would you rather we sit in your living room on the sofa?” he asked, not taking his eyes from her as his fingertips grazed the smoothness of her arm.
His touch was sending sensations escalating through her entire body and the only thing she could do was nod. Wesley removed his arm from around her shoulders and extended his hand to her. She took it and they walked through the kitchen to the living room. He sat down on the sofa then pulled her down into his lap.
She gasped in surprise and felt the heat of his gaze when she looked at him.
“Relax and let me warm you,” he said softly, snuggling her closer into his arms. She felt the moistness of his breath against her forehead.
She sighed, deciding to give in and let him hold her while the rain beat down on the roof. Nothing was said between them as they sat listening to the sound of the thunderstorm and watching the occasional flash of lightning. Jasmine had never been afraid of storms, but for some reason, she appreciated the fact she was not alone—more so that Wesley was the one with her, holding her tight in his arms as if there was no other place he’d rather be.
The room was quiet, except for the sound of the storm and their even breathing. Then she suddenly noticed Wesley’s breathing wasn’t even anymore. It was beginning to come out choppy and rough. She noted the change the exact moment she felt the hard bulge in his pants press against her bottom.
A warm sensation slithered slowly up her spine and she shifted in his arms, lifted her face from his chest and looked at him. Their gazes locked, and slowly, lifting her mouth to his seemed the most natural thing to do.
He met her halfway, capturing her mouth, stealing whatever breath she had and kissing her as deeply as anyone could be kissed. His tongue probed, coaxed, and delivered a sudden throbbing between her thighs.
The kiss claimed everything within her—every thought, every sigh and every moan. Then it created greed, a need and a hunger for something she’d never had but desperately wanted. His tongue was hot, seductive, rapacious, pleasuring her senseless, growling with an urgency that could not be contained.
“I love the way you taste,” Wesley murmured, breaking the kiss long enough to lick her jaw, throat and lips. “I haven’t forgotten it since that night.”
She hadn’t forgotten his taste, either, she wanted to say but couldn’t find her voice. Her pulse increased when he gently bit the flesh near her shoulder, softly branding her. He slipped his hand under her top to caress her breasts through the thin material of her bra and she let out a deep moan. She had never experienced anything like this. She inhaled deeply when he lifted her top and unsnapped the front closure of her bra, baring her breasts to his gaze.
“You’re beautiful.” The words poured from deep within Wesley’s throat as he looked at her breasts, driven with a need to taste her all over. Her breasts were firm, high and the nipples were dark, inviting, enticing and he bent his head to taste her.
His tongue teased her for endless moments. Then he moved on to the other nipple, delivering the same wonderful torment. Jasmine clutched the back of his head to hold his mouth to her breasts.
Wesley’s body responded to her like a schoolboy’s. She stirred feelings within him that he’d never felt before. Suddenly, kissing her and tasting her breasts weren’t enough. He wanted it all. He was consumed with a hot hunger that was burning deep within him and he needed only what she could give. He lifted his head and met her gaze, focusing sharply on her, needing to see her expression, her reaction to his next words.
“I want to make love to you.”
Jasmine returned his gaze and he didn’t move. He barely breathed as he waited for her response. He could tell she was thinking, accepting the fact that making love to him would change everything between them. The question of the hour was, was she ready for that? Was he?
He had to make her understand and he reached out and touched his fingertips to her lips. “I don’t have all the answers, Jasmine. I don’t want to consider the ‘what-ifs.’ All I know is that now, this very moment, I need and want you in a way I’ve never needed or wanted a woman before,” he whispered huskily.
“I want to go inside you so deep so that I’ll know the heat of you and all your glorious warmth. I want to give us pleasure and fulfill our every desire. Will you let me?”
Blood rushed through Jasmine’s veins and she wanted Wesley to claim her in a way no man ever had. She didn’t want to think of the questions left unanswered or the ‘what-ifs,’ either. What she wanted was this night, this time with him. Tomorrow she would deal with the rest.
She wanted to concentrate on the man who held her in his arms; the man who was making her grateful that she was a woman.
And she gave him the only response she could. “I want you to make love to me, too, Wesley,” she whispered.
A slow smile touched his lips and she felt her stomach clench with a need that almost made it impossible for her to breathe. Cradling her body into the warmth of his arms, he eased to his feet. Her arms looped around his neck, she lowered his mouth down to hers, needing to taste him again; the feelings he evoked within her were overpowering.
He parted her lips and took control of the kiss urgently as he clung to the last bit of his sanity. He slowly lifted his head to ask, “Where’s the bedroom?”
She could barely get the words out to answer. “Ahead on your right.”
With long strides, Wesley didn’t waste any time making it to her bedroom. He glanced around, quickly admiring the décor before placing her in the middle of the huge, white oak sleigh bed. Jasmine lay against the pillow and watched him. He wanted her so much that he could barely think straight. He felt all his self-control dissolving and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
He sank down on the bed before her and began removing her clothes. After removing the sandals from her feet, he caressed the smooth silkiness of her legs. Moments later he removed her top and bra and when she lifted her hips, he slipped his hands beneath them to pull down her shorts, leaving her clothed in a pair of black lace panties.
He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and slowly eased them down her body. He leaned back on his haunches thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Everything about her took his breath away.
Her eyes were on him as he stood and began removing his clothes—which turned him on even more. Although she didn’t utter a single word, the look in her eyes urged him to hurry. That same heat and excitement surging through her also slammed into him but he wanted to take things slow and savor every sensuous minute.
Moments later he stood before her gloriously naked, his rich chestnut-colored body was totally male, utterly impressive and fully aroused.
He joined her on the bed and kissed her deeply, mating his tongue with hers the same way he intended for their bodies to mate. He felt his blood pound through his veins as she kissed him back, and her body trembled with the force of her emotions.
His fingers slipped between her legs and felt her heat, her moist desire. He began stroking her as he watched her pupils darken with need.
He needed to know her taste.
In one smooth move, he lowered his head and pulled her against his mouth as his hungry tongue went straight for her center. She jerked at the intimate contact and her fingers clutched the bedspread and lifted her hips for greater connection.
Jasmine thought she was going to lose her mind. Nothing should bring a person such astounding pleasure, such mind-curling enjoyment, she thought incoherently. She moaned deep within her throat as she moved her hips frantically, urgently against his mouth while her fingernails dug deep into his shoulders.
Then suddenly, the tension shattered within her and she cried out, arching her body closer to him, letting herself go and coming apart. She screamed out his name as he tongue-stroked her to sweet oblivion.
Jasmine heard the sound of foil tearing as she fought for breath. Then Wesley moved over her and she felt the heat of him sink slowly into her. She watched as his forehead creased when he encountered resistance. His head dropped back as he breathed deeply and tried to push forward.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders at the pain and when he lowered his head and met her gaze, she knew that he knew. The look on his face told it all. Their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity. She felt his hesitation, sensed his resistance and was aware of his inner struggle. She had to let him know that no matter what, she wanted this. She needed this.
Reaching up she wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned up slightly to claim his mouth and kissed him.
Her tongue mated with his, restoring his passion and shattering his willpower. She felt his muscles tighten, his body flex. When he pushed harder, breaking through, she cried out and he absorbed her cry with his breath.
A moment later her pain subsided and she began returning his kiss. He slowly began moving inside of her and she felt it all the way to her bones. He ignited her pleasure with every smooth stroke. Heat raced to every part of her body and she surrendered to what her body—and his—demanded. And when he increased the tempo, advanced their rhythm to another beat, she tightened her feminine muscles around him, savoring the pleasure.
Her eyes burned with desire when he released her mouth and gazed down at her. “Now, Wesley!”
Her words urged him forward and he thrust into her one last time as their world exploded and pleasure consumed their minds and their bodies. His cry of satisfaction mingled with hers and his body continued to shiver long after the climax had passed.
For several long moments, Wesley held her in his arms. She had drifted off to sleep and he was enjoying just watching her. The only sign that she was still alive was her breathing. At rest, Jasmine looked younger. She was beautiful, special and…his.
And she had been a virgin.
He had never made love to a virgin before. When he had realized she was innocent he had tried to withdraw from such unfamiliar territory, uncharted waters. Any thought of turning back deserted him when he’d felt her inner muscles contract around him, claiming him, and he had given her what she wanted. What he wanted. He hadn’t believed he could find such pleasure in any woman’s arms. No woman had ever given him such a beautiful and special gift. Wesley felt a degree of possessiveness that he’d never felt before.
He swallowed hard when he thought of Caroline. His heart had been broken once and he didn’t intend for it to get broken again. But a part of him had to finally admit there was something about Jasmine that was totally different from Caroline Perry.
He had felt it that night they’d gone to the country fair, as well as the few times he’d watched her doing interviews. Getting a big story was her obsession but not her passion. He had reached that conclusion after reading the article she had written about that teacher who’d returned from Iraq. The story had been well written and uplifting. It had generated warmth and human interest.
Yet there was something driving her to go after the kind of stories that were laced with controversy and scandal, stories that could cripple a person’s reputation for life.
And as he gathered her closer, he was determined to find out what was driving Jasmine Carmody.
There was a man in her bed.
Jasmine slowly opened her eyes to find her body entwined with Wesley’s. Then she remembered the flat tire. Dinner. The thunderstorm. Their lovemaking. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. It was almost one in the morning.
A surge of sensations suddenly swept through her, filling her with honeyed warmth. When she thought of all the intimacies she and Wesley had shared, she should have felt downright scandalous, but it was very difficult to feel that way when her entire body already wanted more.
She remembered how her body had strained yet adjusted to Wesley. He’d held her hips in place while stroking her relentlessly, penetrating deeper, longer and harder when her inner muscles had relaxed, until he’d been embedded fully within her.
Like he was now.
Heat traveled up her body when she realized he was once again sheathed inside of her, their bodies intimately connected. She moaned deep in her throat and when she felt him getting harder. She met his gaze the moment his eyes opened.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. They just continued to look at each other as he filled her body with what she needed and wanted.
“It’s too soon,” he broke the silence and whispered. “We need to—”
He never finished what he was about to say when she thrust her hips against him, wrapped her legs around him, locking their bodies together. “We need to do this again,” she said flatly. She wanted him again—now. She clutched his shoulders and her hips began moving in a slow, soul-stirring rhythm that was meant to seduce.
He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her in a way that made her toes curl and her womanly core melt. When he began moving his body, she forgot all about her body’s soreness and concentrated on the frantic pace of their lovemaking as he rocked her with immense pleasure.
Her fingernails sank deeper into his shoulders and she pulled her mouth from his. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered through a hissed breath, thinking she was about to die. If she was going to take her last breath she couldn’t imagine going out any other way.
“I won’t,” he whispered back, increasing the pace, his body responding to her request. He had wanted to give her tenderness but she had wanted fire. He intended to send her up in smoke. He knew and accepted that he was doing more than making love to her. He was claiming her as his. He didn’t want to think about the implications of that.
Now was not the time. This was not the place.
Wesley reached down and filled his hands with her breasts, wanting to be connected to her in every way. He again increased the pace, the tempo wild, furious, unrestrained. And when she cried out his name before the explosion ripped through him, he gripped her hips and went deeper as her quivering muscles pulled at him, drained him. He threw his head back as the climax shook him to the core, taking everything from him.
He laced their fingers together as another explosion went off within him. His final thought before exhaustion claimed him was that he didn’t think he could ever let her go.
