Dust Devil (43 page)

There
was an old blanket in the tree house, and he spread it on the floor
beneath them, taking his time, undressing her slowly, kissing and
caressing her all the while. But when she was naked and he began to
divest himself of his own jeans, she caught his hands in hers, saying
softly, “No, let me. I want to do it.” Then her palms
flattened against his chest, fingers tensed and splayed, pushing him
down on the blanket. She knelt over him, lowering her mouth to his,
her tongue outlining his lips, then insinuating itself between them,
touching, tasting, twining, as light and delicate as a butterfly. Her
thick, shining mass of hair fell over him, curtaining his face, soft
against his jaw. He wanted to wrap his fingers in the strands, as
rich and dark and fragrant as the earth. But she pressed his hands
against the floor, holding him prisoner. He realized then that she
was seducing him, as he had seduced her last night. He could easily
have overpowered her, wasn’t helpless against her—as she
had been against him. But as that thought occurred to him, Renzo
understood what drove her—her need to claim him, as he had
needed to claim her last night. And sensing its importance to her, he
lay still and let her have her will of him.

Slowly,
Sarah drew her mouth down his throat, at once shocked by her own bold
wantonness and glorying in the power she knew instinctively that she
possessed over him at that moment. She recognized then that far from
being in complete control of himself last night, Renzo had been as
excited by the things he had done to her as she had been.

Because
now she was arousing herself as much as she sensed she was arousing
him. But she no longer had the strength or will to go on fighting her
feelings for him. She loved him, wanted him—no matter the cost.
Somehow she would bewitch him, as he had bedeviled her, she thought,
unable even now, despite his impassioned words of love, to quite
believe he was truly hers. She would make certain; she would bind him
to her forever and ever—as he had bound her.

His
bronzed flesh tasted of sweat, smelled of cigarettes and potent
masculinity. She would know the salty taste of him, the smoky, musky
scent of him anywhere, Sarah reflected as she kissed him at the
hollow of his throat. Even in a roomful of men and with her eyes
closed, she would be able to pick him out. She licked his skin, sank
her teeth gently into his shoulder, her hands circling and rubbing
his chest, tracing the fine mat of dark hair that covered him there,
tapering down his firm, flat belly to disappear enticingly into his
jeans. She moved one hand lower. Still, she didn’t touch him
where he had thought—hoped—she would, but instead slid
her fingers along the insides of his thighs, kneading and stroking,
teasing him until a low groan escaped from his lips and he stirred
restively beneath her.

“
Shh.
Be still....” Sarah silenced him with her mouth, her tongue
wreathing his once more before she bent her head to capture one of
his nipples between her teeth, nipping him tenderly. Her long hair
trailed over him. Her full breasts, their dusky crests taut, brushed
against him. Unable to restrain himself, he captured them with his
palms, but his thumbs had barely begun to stimulate her nipples
before, again, she took hold of his hands and pushed them insistently
to the floor. “Be patient... wait....” she murmured,
echoing his own words of last night.

Moments
later, her hands were at his bulging fly, shaking with nervous
excitement as she fumbled at the buttons, releasing them one by one,
each feathery brush of her fingers against his arousal agony to
Renzo. By now, he was so hard and hot for her that he was half afraid
he would come the minute she freed him. But as though she sensed
that, she tormented him still further by concentrating instead on
slowly tugging his jeans from his body and casting them aside. Her
hands glided up his legs, his hips, to his chest, tightened to fists
in his hair as she claimed his lips once more. And while she kissed
him, she spread her thighs and taunted him with her moist, dark
softness, rubbing against his sex provocatively. He thought he would
go mad with desire for her then. He wanted to feel her impaled upon
him, riding him into oblivion. He reached out, clenching her buttocks
to pull her to him, but once again, Sarah thrust his hands away.

“
No...not
yet....” she insisted—his own words of last night, tossed
back at him once more. Beneath drowsy lids, her green eyes gleamed
with passion and wicked mischief as she glanced down at him. A faint,
beguiling smile curved her lips.

“
I’ll
get you for this, witch,” Renzo muttered hoarsely. “You
know I will.”

“
Will
you?” Her hands found his sex as she spoke, closed around him,
so his only response was a sharp, strangled hiss of excitement as he
jerked against her. She stroked him slowly at first, tracing slick,
heated grooves
and
ridges, taunting sensitive, responsive flesh, drawing her nails
lightly along the length of him, shivering at the sudden, raw passion
that blazed in his eyes, the way his breathing became rough and
uneven, so she thought that at any minute, he would cease to lie
there passively, would grab her and finish them both himself. “Will
you?” she whispered again seductively. “Get me?”

Then,
before her words goaded him to resistance and action, she kissed her
way down his chest and belly sheened with sweat, her breath warm
against his flesh, against his hardness as she imprisoned him with
her mouth. A low, ragged oath broke from him as she enveloped him,
her tongue swirling and teasing, while her hands continued to move on
him tantalizingly. Groaning deeply with pleasure, Renzo snarled his
fists in her hair, and this time, Sarah didn’t push him away.
Gripping her tightly, he thrust himself between her lips, reveling in
the warm, wet softness of her mouth. He had dreamed of her doing
this, thought he must be dreaming still as, seeming to sense his
need, she increased the pressure of her lips, the rhythm of her
hands, until his body was screaming for release and he knew he
couldn’t hold back any longer. He tried—halfheartedly—to
tug her away, but she wouldn’t be drawn, and then it was too
late. His climax seized him violently, blindingly, so he could only
hang on to her fiercely, crying out, while she took all he had to
give.

And
still, it wasn’t enough for her. For even afterward, Sarah went
on pressing him down, stubbornly refusing to let him touch her,
kissing and caressing him everywhere she could reach, exploring every
hard plane and lean angle of his body, each strong and beautifully
defined curve of
muscle.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair, twisting, tightening, as she
wrapped herself sinuously around him. The musky taste of him was on
her insidious tongue as it danced with his in a mating ritual as old
as time, traveled the length of his throat, licked the sweat from his
chest once more, savoring the sharp tang of salt. And then, when he
had recovered—so rapidly that Renzo could scarcely believe he
was already hard and eager for her again—she impaled herself on
him, taking him deep inside her.

Sunlight
streamed into the tree house, turning her body, glistening with
sweat, to golden flame as she rocked him, rode him. Now he would no
longer be denied, and his hands were on her everywhere, tangling in
her hair, cupping her breasts, teasing their tautly furled buds,
sweeping down to close over her hips, to seek the mellifluous petals
of her, to stroke their heart as she moved upon him urgently, harder
and faster. Her orgasm came swiftly and so strongly that she arched
wildly atop him, her head thrown back. The soft keening of her
pleasure rang in the morning air before she fell forward, her nails
digging into his shoulders, her body still sliding on his. Grasping
her buttocks tightly, Renzo thrust into her again and again,
quickening against her feverishly, making her cry out once more as a
second climax assailed her, taking her breath. Hard on its heels, his
own release came, and he held her close as he shuddered powerfully
beneath her, spurting into her until he had nothing left to give.

“
Tell
me you love me,
cara
,”
he murmured afterward as they lay quiet and entangled on the old
blanket, he stroking her hair and smoking a cigarette from the
crumpled pack of Marlboros he had taken from the pocket of his
discarded jeans.

“
I
thought I just did.” A small, mysterious smile of contentment
curving her lips, Sarah glanced up at him tenderly from beneath
passion-heavy lids, her green eyes
drowsy
with satiation in the morning light.

“
Hmm.
So you did —and very pleasantly, too, I might add. Still, I
want to hear you say it. I
need
to
hear you say it. You haven’t—not once since I came back.”

“
I
love you,” she breathed, snuggling closer in his embrace, her
head resting on his shoulder. “I love you. I always have. I
always will.”

“
You’d
better, because I warn you, I don’t intend to lose you a second
time.” Renzo’s voice, although low, was fierce with
determination, rough with emotion. “So of course, you’re
going to send big, bad Bubba packing, aren’t you?”

“
Yes,
if that’s what you want.”

“
Do
you still doubt it?” A serrated edge crept into his tone; his
arm tightened around her, his hand snarling in her hair, forcing her
face up to his. His hooded eyes smoldered hotly with possessiveness
and jealousy. “If you don’t get rid of him, I will,
Sarah. Christ! Of all the men you could have chosen in this damned
town, why in the hell did you ever take up with him?”

“
I—I
was lonely,” she confessed softly, “and he wanted me.”

“
Did
you sleep with him?”

“
No.
You know I didn’t. You knew last night that there hasn’t
been anyone but you.”

Triumph
and satisfaction flared in Renzo’s dark brown eyes at that.
“Yes, I knew. Did you hate me very much for that, Sarah, for
spoiling you for all other men?”

“
Yes,
sometimes.”

Taking
a last, long drag from his cigarette, he crashed it out against the
floor. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear!” he
muttered thickly as he rolled her over, his mouth swooping to claim
hers, his dark, bronzed body sliding covetously to cover her own pale
one.

Like
a madman, Renzo chased her all the way back to the house, kissing
her, tickling her, strewing wildflowers in her hair, so Sarah was
laughing helplessly and pleading with him for mercy when the screen
door to the kitchen finally banged shut behind them.

“
Don’t
think you can escape from me, wench, because you can’t,”
he insisted, grinning roguishly as he caught hold of her, spinning
her around and pressing her tightly against the refrigerator. His
lips teased hers. His hands roamed over her boldly, tugging at her
clothes. “I knew it was a mistake to ever let you get dressed!”

Still
laughing, she tried to push him away, to hold him at bay, her cheeks
flushed, her heart thudding wildly with excitement. “Don’t
you think you’ve had more than enough?” she inquired
tartly as he bent his head to kiss her again.

“
I’ll
never get enough of you,
cara,
”
Renzo
declared, his voice abruptly low and husky, his molasses-brown eyes
gleaming as his mouth captured hers, his tongue plunging deep.

“
M-M-Mom?”
The single, tremulously spoken word fell, exploded like a bombshell
into the silence, and in that moment, at its impact, Sarah felt her
entire world suddenly shatter into a million pieces.
Alex!
Dear
God. How could she have possibly forgotten all about her
son?
Renzo’s
son?

As
Renzo jerked his lips from hers and half turned to glance over his
shoulder to see who had spoken, his strong, slender hands
involuntarily tightened so painfully upon Sarah’s arms that she
knew she would have bruises there tomorrow. Time seemed to stop,
frozen for an eternity, before at last it lurched again into motion,
appearing strangely slow and out of kilter. She was simultaneously
aware of the myriad expressions that crossed both the man’s and
the boy’s faces as they stared at each other wordlessly: shock
and disbelief, followed by dawning recognition, comprehension and
pain...so much pain. Then naked, murderous rage such as she had never
before witnessed darkened Renzo’s handsome visage. The muscle
in his jaw began to throb alarmingly, and all of a sudden, he
released her and stepped back from her, folding his arms across his
chest tightly, as though he feared that, otherwise, he would do her
some terrible violence, would kill her. As though sensing the threat
to her, Alex took a protective step toward her, wariness mingling
with the confusion and eager hope that filled his own countenance.