Carol Ritten Smith Page 19

  Immediately her mind was back to Tom and Abigail.

  Beth tried to sort out her feelings about Abigail. She wanted to hate her, but it was difficult to hate someone she barely knew. Still, she recognized she was jealous, jealous that Abigail had known Tom intimately. Without a doubt, their time together had been enjoyable because whatever Tom did, he did well.

  He certainly was an adept kisser. The past couple of months, Beth had found Tom’s kisses very pleasurable. She warmed just remembering the feel of his lips on hers and his tongue inside her mouth. She could only imagine how much more pleasurable it would be if he were to … Pulse, pulse, pulse. Stop it! You are only making yourself crazy. Tom will never be intimate with you. He wants you as a wife first.

  But Tom and Abigail weren’t married. Where were his morals then? Did he leave them on her bedroom floor along with his clothes when he took her to bed?

  Pulse, pulse, pulse. Drawing her knees up, Beth tucked her hands between her thighs, sliding them down until the heels of her hands pressed hard against the pelvic bone and temporarily alleviated her throbbing need.

  A moment later, Beth flipped the blankets back and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the sofa. She threw some wood into the fire, then stood rocking back and forth in an attempt to relieve the tension of her body. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding tight, not because she was chilled, but because she felt as if she might explode otherwise. She squeezed until the delicate lace of her chemise irritated her nipples. Better to feel discomfort rather than this restless urgency that nearly drove her to distraction.

  She heard Tom cough upstairs, and she wondered, did he often cough in his sleep or was he awake thinking of her? More likely it was the strong coffee causing his insomnia. Or maybe he simply had a tickle in his throat and would be coming downstairs any minute for a drink of water.

  Beth hastily returned to the sofa, pulling the scratchy blankets over her. It wouldn’t do for him to see her in her undergarments, though she wondered why she concerned herself with such proprieties now.

  Her mind drifted back to the moment when he had caught her bathing in the kitchen. At the time, she had been outraged and thoroughly embarrassed by the situation, but thinking of it now shot sexual excitement through her.

  What if Davy hadn’t been in the next room? Would Tom have held firm to his morals or would he have stripped and stepped into the tub?

  And what if he had? A surprising and delightful heat touched her feminine core. Hoping to experience it again, she deliberately thought of Tom touching her naked body. The pleasurable feeling returned. You’re playing with fire, she warned herself, but Beth ignored her voice of reason. Settling her head back onto her pillow, she closed her eyes and imagined Tom standing in front of her, removing his clothing. She imagined him tugging his shirt free from his pants, then unbuttoning each button one by one, exposing more and more of his chest, which caused her heart to thrum in her own chest. She envisioned lots of dark hair covering hard muscles.

  Suddenly that delightful thrumming pulsed through her with shocking intensity. Flushed with heat, she kicked her leg out from under the covers. Stop it. Now. But hot desire overwhelmed her common sense. She envisioned more of Tom’s body. It made sense that he would be bigger than Davy … down there … but how much bigger?

  Beth felt as if she had a fever. Kicking the blankets off completely, she heaved a great sigh of frustration. Ask her what seventeen times sixteen was and she could rattle off the figure immediately. Ask her to list the names of renowned explorers, recounting the routes they took, and she would answer confidently and correctly. But ask her what a naked man looked like, or ask her exactly what happens between a man and a woman … Beth was embarrassingly naive.

  Naive, yes, but she possessed a great aching desire to learn.

  And the man to teach her all she wanted to know was a mere staircase away.

  Chapter 17

  Tom lay wide awake on his back, severely castigating himself for having the sensitivity of a cow patty and the brains to match. Now he was likely back to square one again. He should have been straightforward from the beginning about his relationship with Abigail, but who’d have thought his feelings for Beth would have developed so rapidly? Certainly not him.

  Ah, Beth. He couldn’t stop thinking about her sitting naked in his tub. Even outraged, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was flawless and pale, almost white. He’d have given five years of his life if he could have run his hands along her lithe body to see if she felt as silky smooth as she looked. He ached to see more than glimpses of her perfect breasts hidden behind her pulled-up knees.

  He groaned. His arousal was full and throbbing.

  When he was a kid, he’d heard a rumor about men’s testicles turning blue from lack of release. He never really believed it, but he wondered if he might experience some sort of permanent damage from ignoring the very frequent sexual urges he was having of late. Never in his adult life had he been without sex for so long. When he was with Abby, the sex was good. But he wanted more than good sex with Beth. He loved her more profoundly than he ever thought possible. He wanted a far deeper connection with her than just a physical one. He wanted commitment. Marriage. “ ’Til death do us part.” After their wedding, he’d gladly carry his beautiful wife to their marriage bed, and together they would —

  Unless you want to be changing sheets, think of something else, something undesirable. Think of … manure. Stinky, lumpy horse manure. Good. Already he could feel the pressure lessening. He forced himself to visualize other disgusting things, anything to erase Beth’s lovely image from his mind. A few minutes later, his member was flaccid. Good, stay that way!

  He thought he heard the sound of footsteps and he stilled his breathing to listen. Definitely, someone was coming up the stairs. Who was prowling around? Silently rising up on one elbow, he lit the lamp beside his bed, turning the wick down low.

  A moment later, Beth stepped through his doorway, a blanket draped around her like a cloak.

  “What’s the matter, Beth?” he asked, surprised to see her. “Are you cold? Give me a moment and I’ll get you some more blankets.”

  She shook her head, quietly closing the door behind her, and suddenly Tom understood her intent. His heart pounded until he thought it would fire right through his rib cage. Lord, help him. He could only take so much.

  “Beth,” Tom whispered hoarsely, “don’t. Don’t come any closer. Go back downstairs. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “Then teach me.” Silently she moved to the side of his bed, letting her blanket slip from her shoulders to fall to the floor. She was clad in drawers and a cotton chemise, and he could see the twin peaks of her small breasts jutting through the lacy material.

  Oh hell. Tom clenched his jaw. He longed to reach out and pull her to him, but he dared not give in. He knew she was innocent about such things.

  Her voice sounded like satin on glass when she whispered, “I want you to show me how a man and a woman make love.”

  Suddenly, and not fully understanding why, Tom felt angry. He sat up, bunching the blankets across his midriff and behind him. “Why,” he asked, agitation in his voice, “because you’re curious about sex? Dammit, girl, go back to the sofa where you belong.” Hoping his angry remarks would send her running down the stairs, he slid down in his bed and turned away from her.

  He felt her hand grasp his shoulder and her skin felt hot on his. She firmly pulled him onto his back. “I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, Tom, and I know what I want.”

  I doubt it! Frustrated, he lifted onto his elbows. “You may think you do, but if I allowed you in my bed, sure as there’s a heaven and hell, you’d hate me and yourself in the morning.”

  “I could never hate you, Tom. No matter what happens. And if you love me as you say you do, then you’ll make love to me.” Her voice was a raspy whisper.

  Tom groaned. Send her away. She just learned how to kis
s, for crissakes. He strove for patience. “I do love you, and I will gladly make love to you, but not tonight.” It took all his strength to suppress his desire for her and, considering his erection, it felt like he was losing the battle.

  “Don’t you like the way I look?” she asked, her voice nearly breaking. “I know I’m not voluptuous or — ”

  “Stop,” Tom said with a note of sadness. “Beth, you’re beautiful, perfect. And God knows I want you. But it would be better for us to be married first.”

  “You weren’t married to Abigail.”

  It was a simple statement — and true — but it had no bearing on this relationship. “That was different, and you know it,” he said gruffly, wishing they could get past his former relationship.

  “No, I don’t know it. I don’t know anything about any of this. Before I met you, I didn’t even know what it felt like to be kissed by a man. You showed me how wonderful it can be. But my body yearns for something more and we both know what that is. Please, Tom. Please don’t turn me away.”

  “You think I want to turn you away?” He pushed himself up to lean back against the brass head rail. “God, Beth. Saying no is nearly killing me, I desire you so much.” He raked his fingers back though his thick dark hair. “I’ve dreamed of you in my arms every night for weeks now. Every time I kissed you, hell, every time I looked at you, I wanted to make love to you. And then tonight … ” He closed his eyes and sighed. “You have no idea how much I want you. But still, I want to wait until we marry. Then it will be right and legal.”

  “But,” she started.

  Before Tom lost his struggle and caved in to his growing lust, he ordered more firmly than he intended, “Enough! I’ve given you my answer, now go back downstairs!”

  “No!” Beth answered just as firmly. “I am not some child you can order about. I’m nineteen, a grown woman. Many women my age are married and have borne children. They’ve experienced life while I am watching it go by. I’m like the child who doesn’t know the truth about Santa when everyone else does. Well, not anymore.” Crossing her arms low in front of her, she grabbed the hemmed edge of her chemise and lifted it up and over her head in one fluid motion, then let the garment drop to the hardwood floor. She stood statue still in front of him.

  Oh, she was beautiful, her small breasts proud and firm, her stomach flat, and her hips gently rounded. Except for the rapid rising and falling of her breasts, Tom might never have known her nervousness. His beautiful Beth. He could no longer fight against his male urges, his need for her so great, his love for her greater. He could no more turn her away than he could suspend time.

  In the past, the women he’d slept with had been experienced and there was a mutual responsibility for their sexual satisfaction. But Beth was so innocent, so naïve. He realized the onus was upon him to ensure her initial sexual experience was pleasurable and gratifying. It was a weighty responsibility, and it frightened him, yet he would never relinquish this honor to another.

  He closed his eyes in silent supplication for guidance, wondering if it was right to pray for such a thing, then slid over to make room for her in his bed.

  She lifted the covers and quickly slipped in beside Tom. He could feel her limbs trembling.

  Go slow, he cautioned himself. “Face me, Beth.”

  She did and he gazed into her green eyes and saw her vulnerability. He had never felt more protective of anyone in his life and he pulled her into his embrace. “Any moment you want to stop, just say and I’ll stop. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and her breath was hot against his chest. He raised her head gently and touched his lips to hers.

  And Beth kissed him back. Tentatively, at first, and then as if to show she was a willing participant, she engaged all he had ever taught her about kissing into that kiss. She brazenly opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to parry with hers.

  He tasted. He teased. Their tongues touched and rolled, pursuing each other playfully. He probed in and out, savoring her sweetness. And when she finally dared to thrust her tongue inside his mouth and sweep it from side to side, Tom groaned.

  Beth immediately began to pull away, but he held her still and whispered hoarsely against her lips, “When I do that, Beth, it’s a good thing. It means I like what you’re doing.” His lips kissed hers lightly. “And if I do things you like, you might make a few sounds, too. And it’s all right. Allow yourself to do or say whatever feels good. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed.” He kissed her again, this time far more passionately, nearly assaulting her lips. She reciprocated boldly. Their breathing became hot and husky and she forgot all about her apprehensions, and he forgot all about sending her from his bed.

  • • •

  The sun roused Beth first, and for a moment she was disoriented, waking in an unfamiliar room. When she remembered what brought her too this room, she sprang from the bed. “Tom, wake up! What time is it?”

  Tom opened a sleepy eye. His feet hit the floor less than a second later. He snatched up the clock on the night table. “Damn. It’s eight-twenty. You better get downstairs before Bill gets up.”

  The clanging of the stove door downstairs told them it was already too late.

  Chapter 18

  Beth scrambled into her underclothes and then wrapped the blanket around her. Silently she tip-toed down the stairs, praying Bill hadn’t noticed the sofa was vacant. She peered around the edge of the doorway. He was standing before the dry sink, gazing out the window as Beth slipped noiselessly past.

  “There’s no point in trying to sneak around,” she heard him say.

  She backed up to the kitchen doorway and tried to seem cheerful, as if nothing was amiss. “Oh, good morning, Bill. You’re up early.”

  “It ain’t early. The sun’s been up for some time, but I guess it don’t get around to his window until later.”

  Beth blanched. How could she have allowed herself to fall asleep in Tom’s bed!

  “You must think I’m stupid, that I don’t know what you two been doing up there.”

  “Oh, Bill. Please don’t pass judgment. We need to talk about this, but I don’t have time right now. I’ll be late for school if I don’t hurry. Please, promise me we can talk about this later.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, still looking out the window. “Don’t see as there’s much to talk about. You spent the night with him, plain and simple. What more is there to say?”

  Tom came down the stairs, tucking in his shirttail, and Beth threw him a desperate, pleading look. Standing on the step behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze through the blanket. “Don’t worry.” His voice was low and reassuring, “I’ll handle Bill.” He pointed her toward the parlor. “Go get dressed.”

  Bill kept his back to Tom when he entered the kitchen and crossed to the stove. There was coffee from last night. Tom felt the pot and though it was cold, today it would do. He grabbed a mug down from the cupboard and poured himself a cup. “Want some?” he asked, but received no reply.

  He dragged out a chair from the table and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he started, “I guess there’s no point in denying what happened. You’re old enough to figure things out.”

  Bill grabbed the edge of the dry sink, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “Yeah, and I’m old enough to know right from wrong and what you two did was flat out wrong.”

  Tom stared calmly across the mug’s rim at Bill’s back. “We love each other very much.”

  Bill snorted derisively.

  “This may come as a shock to you,” Tom continued, “but life is not always black and white. There’s a whole world of gray out there and the older you get the more you’ll understand what I mean.” He felt like he was talking to a stone wall. “Dammit, Bill, the least you could do is look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Bill spun about and leaned over the table until his face was menacingly close to Tom’s. “You horny bastard! You were just waiting for your chanc
e to get my sister into the sack with you, weren’t you?”

  Beth, having finished dressing, entered the kitchen and recoiled at her brother’s caustic words. “Stop it, Bill! It wasn’t like that at all. You’re making it sound cheap and it wasn’t.”

  He glared at her with contempt. “If you believe that, then you’re no better than Miranda Parsons, screwing anything wearing pants.”

  “That is bloody well enough!” Tom yelled, rising from his chair and knocking it over backwards. He slammed his cup down on the table and the coffee sloshed over the rim. “Apologize to your sister!”

  Bill shoved the table against Tom. “Go to hell! Both of you! It’s what you deserve.” He stormed outside, slamming the door so hard it bounced open.

  In the aftermath of the verbal explosion, there was complete silence. Tom closed the door.

  Beth set his chair upright and held onto the back for support. “Oh, what have we done? He’ll never forgive us.”

  “Beth, he’s young. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “no, he won’t. You don’t know how stubborn he can be.”

  Tom had a pretty good idea. Stubbornness seemed to be a Patterson family trait. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, except let him cool off.” He came around behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. Bending low until his stubbled cheek rested against her silky one, he whispered, “I want to know … how are you feeling after last night?”

  Heat coursed through Beth’s body, all the wonderful intimate details of the previous night vivid in her memory. Still, she felt embarrassed to be asked such a personal question in the light of day. “I’m fine,” she answered, her voice barely audible.