Chapter 14

Dusty turned his face into the undulating spray of the shower, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to shake the anxiety holding his muscles hostage.

What had happened to the guy who could boldly step into any fire situation without a second thought? Face down the red, licking monster without blinking? Follow a grueling day with a beer or two with the guys and shoot the breeze as if they’d done nothing more significant than yard work?

He leaned a hand against the shower stall and dropped his head, allowing the spray to cascade down into his face. That man, that Dusty Conrad, had disappeared along with his brother six months ago.

He stood like that for long minutes, under the punishingly hot shower, trying to get a handle on his emotions. Was Jolie right? Could his current behavior, his recent decisions, be linked straight back to Erick’s death? Rather than her being to blame for their estrangement, could he, in fact, be the one responsible for the loss of the best thing in his life?

He shuddered despite the heat of the shower, then turned around, wiping the moisture from his eyes. When he opened them again, he found one very naked, very proud Jolie edging her way into the shower, looking at him expectantly.

Dusty groaned, wondering if he’d ever seen a more welcome sight. “Hi,” he said.

Her fleeting smile told him how lame his greeting was. “Hi, yourself.” She glanced down at where the water swirled down the center drain. “I, um, decided I couldn’t wait. You know, for that shower.”

He shifted slightly. “There’s more than enough room for two.”

Her gaze flicked back up to his face. “Actually, all I need is room for one.”

She hesitantly reached out, her hands finding the water-covered planes of his chest. Dusty’s heart stuttered and he caught her fingers in his, examining the sexy intent in her eyes.

God, how he wanted this woman. Had always wanted her. And looking at her now, her hair slick and smooth against her head, water droplets clinging to her lashes, moisture running over her pink, full lips, he was astounded he’d found the courage to leave her.

Or had it been courage? Had his fleeing from his job…his home…his wife…been an act of cowardice? A result of the same fear he’d experienced on the fire site earlier?

“Please…kiss me, Dusty,” Jolie whispered, whisking the water from her ripe flesh with a quick, anxious flick of her tongue.

He gently grasped her shoulders and turned her until she was leaning against the side of the shower, then lowered his mouth to hers, doing exactly as she asked. Doing exactly as he yearned to.

He slowly drew his tongue along the rim of her lips, dipping between them, intoxicated by the taste of the water and her own unique flavor. She made a sound in her throat and curved her arms around his waist, tugging him nearer, closer, until his hard flesh pressed against her softness, the heat of the water no match for the growing heat of their bodies. He gained access to the depths of her mouth, then dropped his hands to her breasts. Her shudder edged up his need for her even more as he plucked at her engorged nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, telling her with his body what he couldn’t with words.

Sliding his tongue into the honeyed depths of her mouth, he reveled in the texture of her teeth, her warmth, her responsiveness, aware of her curving her leg around his, seeking a closer, more intimate contact. He slid his right hand from her breast and blindly reached for the soap in the stand behind her. Cupping the bar in his hand, he positioned it against the delicate line of her collarbone, then drew it down between her breasts, then up and under a firm mound, wondering at the pliancy of her slick flesh. Her own fingers dipped down to curve around his rear, then up the length of his back, her attentions suddenly restless as he drew the bar down to her belly button, then down even lower.

Jolie tugged her mouth from his, dragging in deep gasps of air as he slid the soap between her swollen folds, drawing it back…and forth…then back again.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, kissing his shoulder, then taking his skin between her teeth.

He drew the soap out, then moved it down one slender hip and thigh, bringing it up under her arm then over, repeating his movements until every inch of her skin was covered with lather, until not a whiff of the acrid smell from the fire remained, only the scent of the soap and one-hundred-percent pure, hot Jolie.

Her fingers trembling, she took the soap from him, apparently intent on doing the same to him. Her gaze caught and held his as she slowly, torturously budged the solid bar along the planes of his chest, over his flat, hard nipples, down over his abs, then teasingly bypassed the area in most need of her sensual ministrations, instead circling his waist and drawing the bar along his back.

Dusty thought he would die from anticipation as he fought to hold as still as possible, to allow Jolie the room she needed to explore. He clenched his jaw and hissed when her hands again flitted across the hypersensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Then she lathered her hands and placed the soap back into the dish and plunged down to the area that had been longing for her attention the most.

The feel of her sudsy, slippery fingers curving around his pulsing erection caused him to groan in barely suppressed longing. But suppress it he did, his mind spinning, his skin burning as she stroked him lengthwise, then circled his arousal and squeezed. Dusty realized he had his eyes clamped shut and cracked them open, watching Jolie’s wonderfully expressive face through the steam. Her attention was on what she was doing, her tongue dipping out to lick her lips as her hands continued their skillful stroking.

The rush of blood toward Dusty’s groin warned of his impending climax. He thrust his hand to still hers, holding her gaze when she blinked up to look into his eyes.

“Darlin’, the next step I’d rather have us do together.”

She took in a deep breath, the move inflating her chest, and bringing her wet breasts into sensual relief. He bent briefly to nuzzle them, to drag her hot, hard nipples deep into his mouth, then he cupped her under one knee and moved her to rest against the side of the shower stall.

Finally his rock-hard erection pressed against her slick, swollen, ready flesh. Dusty knew a moment of hesitation. Not because he didn’t want her with all that he was. Not because he sensed second thoughts from her. No. He wanted to savor the moment. Commit to memory the pounding of the shower spray against the porcelain tile. The sound of Jolie’s ragged breathing echoing in the small enclosure. The feel of her moist folds against him.

He slowly bent his head and claimed her mouth. As his tongue slid against hers, as her sweet smell filled his nose, her hands restlessly explored his chest, then circled around to draw him even closer. He knew he’d never experienced a moment more exquisite. Genuine. Honest.

When they were apart, the outside world intruded, life allowed him the opportunity to consider those things that pointed to a lack of commitment. But when they were together like this…on the verge of lovemaking…their hearts hammering a rhythm only the other understood, he knew that what they had was unique. Precious. There was no room for pettiness. Only honesty, pure and simple.

And pure and simply, he loved Jolie Calbert Conrad with all his heart.

Jolie tilted her head back and whimpered low in her throat. Dusty positioned himself and thrust deeply into her hot, tight flesh. An intense shudder surged up from his feet to his neck, leaving not a muscle untouched. He slowly withdrew and plunged again, breathing in her shallow moan and cupping her face in his other hand.

He was unprepared when she lifted her other leg to curve it around his waist, and he adjusted, moving until both hands cupped her bottom, supporting her weight against the wall with his hands and body. He’d barely recovered when she tilted her hips forward, taking him deeper, farther, than he could have on his own. He stretched his neck back and groaned, knowing there was nowhere on earth that he’d rather be in that moment. Knowing that the heaven he was exploring with Jolie was the only matter of importance.

When he thrust into her sweet, welcoming flesh again, he did so with growing urgency, undeniable need, his mouth following his body’s lead and deepening their kiss. Wet skin smacked against wet skin, feeding his passion until he shattered into pieces as small and as light as the droplets pelting them. Jolie cried out his name and tangled her fingers in his damp hair, her own climax freeing him in a way he couldn’t comprehend, could only sense.

Two days ago their coming together had been urgent, intense, quick, their minds filled with confusion and doubt. Now they had joined with complete understanding of what they were doing, what it meant, and with full knowledge of the significance. That, alone, filled Dusty with a hope he hadn’t thought he was capable of feeling again. The same hope that had filled him the day he realized she was the woman he wanted to marry. And the day of their wedding, when he’d lifted her veil to find her blue eyes shining at him full of love.

Drawing air deep into his lungs, he closed his eyes and rested his face against her neck, reveling in the pounding of her pulse there. His hands still supported her. Her stomach moved against his as she fought to catch her own breath, find her own way back from the stratosphere with whatever knowledge she had gained from their lovemaking in order to apply it to the here and now.

He swallowed when he felt her press her lips against his temple, then again to his cheek, her trembling hands gently holding the back of his head.

He smiled against her sweet-smelling skin. “I finished the Jacuzzi this morning.” He drew back, searching her emotion-filled eyes, gazing at her swollen, well-kissed lips. “You want to try it out?”

Her mouth slowly widened in a lazy smile filled with mischief and desire. “Lead the way.”

He carefully disentangled her legs from around his waist and lowered her, helping her to stand on the tile. She switched off the water even as he pushed open the shower door, white clouds swelling out to fill the cooler outer bathroom with steam. Steam caused as much by the hot water as by their even hotter lovemaking.

Dusty took a fluffy navy-blue towel from a nearby pile and leisurely draped it over her shoulders, using a soft corner to tenderly wipe the moisture from her forehead and cheeks. She blinked up to look at him, as if sensing he had changed, had come to some sort of conclusion, and his actions were portraying them.

“Jolie, I—”

The ringing of the telephone in the bedroom cut into his words. He blinked, refusing to allow the sound to intrude, intent on continuing. Determined to tell her that he didn’t know what tomorrow held, but that he wanted them to figure it out…together. But the sound of the town fire alarm exactly on the second ring of the phone sliced into his warm intentions as cleanly as a fire ax.

The light in Jolie’s eyes dimmed and she blinked, pulling the towel more tightly around herself.

“Leave it,” Dusty found himself asking softly.

He watched her throat work around a swallow and her gaze move to somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered. “I just…can’t.”

She moved to pass him and he gripped her shoulders. “You can’t…or you won’t?”

Confusion, sadness and determination filled her eyes as surely as passion had only minutes before. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked roughly, his voice quiet. Too quiet. “Well, tell me, Jolie. Is it fair for me to have to play second fiddle to your career? A career that rips you away from me when I need you most? A career that leaves me wondering whether or not I’ll still have a wife at the end of the shift? Or whether or not I’ll be attending another funeral?”

The shock on her face was undeniable. “I…”

Dusty grabbed another towel from the pile. “Never mind, Jolie. Answer the phone.”