Page 18 of One Wild Texas Night
“I agree,” she said, coughing and climbing into his pickup.
With both of them coughing, they rode without conversation, and once they were away from her place and all the smoke and debris, he took off the bandanna and tossed it into the back. She did the same. They remained silent all the way to his place. When he parked, he turned to her.
“Let’s get that box out on the ground. I’m going to shower first, and then I’ll clean it up and see if we can read the name that someone has tried to scrape away.”
“All right,” she said, glaring at him. He felt certain the box had belonged to his family, and he hoped he could prove it. He wondered why she was insisting they hadn’t stolen the box, unless she thought her family would never break the law and steal something.
He knew better, but he didn’t want to tell her, because she might not know some of the nasty things they had done. She acted like she didn’t know. If he learned she had ever helped them steal and do things to his family... His anger rose as he thought about that. He wondered just where she fit in and how much like them she was. Even if she didn’t know all they had done, he didn’t want to find her appealing. They had too much history between them. And he had a feeling the vandalism and the thefts had been directed only at his family because of the old feud. He had never heard anyone else complaining of vandalism or theft by any Blakes. The old anger that her dad and her older brothers could stir came back full force, and he remembered why he would get so angry at them. Far too often, they wiggled out of blame for anything they had done.
“We have to get out of these smelly clothes. I want to throw mine in your washing machine,” she said. “I can’t wear these to town or even in your house. I’m getting the hose to wash some of this off out here before I go inside. You may want to do the same.”
“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll get the hose.” He wanted to get washed up and then wash that box. He was absolutely certain it would have the name Reed carved into it, and he couldn’t wait to show her.
He turned on the hose, walking back to hand it to her first. “Go ahead. I’m taking off my shirt.”
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I do the same. I’ll have as much on as I would if I were in my swimsuit, and I can’t stand this smell any longer,” she said, placing the hose in the flower bed. With her back turned, she yanked off her boots and socks and then pulled off her red T-shirt.
The moment she did, his mouth went dry, and he forgot the fire, the smoke, the smell, the metal box and everything else except looking at her. Her waist was tiny, her skin looked smooth and she looked soft and irresistible. She kept on the jeans and ran the hose over herself and then turned to hold the hose out to him. When she turned around, she still wore her jeans, but above her waist, she wore only her lacy white bra, which was wet and clinging. Her skimpy bra revealed lush curves that made him instantly aroused, wanting to reach for her.
She was breathtaking and incredibly sexy. She splashed water from the hose over her full breasts and he fought to keep from walking closer, taking her into his arms and kissing her senseless while he caressed those gorgeous breasts. As she ran the hose over herself, she had her eyes closed. “Oh, that is such a relief,” she said softly to herself.
An intense urge swept him to close the slight distance between them and take her in his arms. He wanted to step close and remove her bra. He wanted to fill his hands with her full breasts that looked so soft.
“I’m sorry to go first,” she said with her eyes still squeezed tightly closed while she held the hose above her head and let water shower over her.
He yanked off his shirt, tossing it aside as he walked to her, wrapped one arm around her narrow waist while he took the hose from her hand and ran it swiftly over himself and tossed it aside.
Startled, her eyes flew open. “Jake?” She looked up at him, and he saw her expression change.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he said. He was already breathless. Eagerness made him shake, and he was rock hard.
She blinked. “I thought you were angry with me,” she said.
He didn’t answer but gazed into her big green eyes and saw the transformation in her expression as her lips parted and her gaze shifted to his mouth. Her hands rested on his chest, and she slipped one arm across his shoulders while she ran her other hand over him, tangling her fingers in his chest hair.
His heart pounded, and he could barely get his breath. He unfastened her bra and pushed it down so he could cup her breast in his hand. She gasped and closed her eyes while she leaned closer and tightened her arm around him.
She was so incredibly soft. Her full breast filled his hand. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at his mouth as she drew his head down. He placed his lips on hers, his tongue slowly stroking hers as he caressed her breast.
She moaned softly, moving her hips against him.
For minutes, eons, seconds—first it seemed long and then it seemed short—he kissed her and caressed her. She was wet, warm and bare. He wanted her with all his being. He was aroused, wanting her more than he could remember desiring any woman ever.
He wanted to be inside her, to make love to her and forget the consequences.
Suddenly she wiggled slightly, leaning away, and then she stepped out of his embrace and shook her head. “Jake, stop. We were at each other’s throats only a few minutes ago, the family feud still alive and strong. I can’t do this. You’re a Reed. We’re not going to tangle our lives and emotions,” she said, stepping back, grabbing up her shirt and holding it in front of her as she raced away from him, unlocking the door with the key he had given her and disappearing inside the house.
“Dammit,” he said quietly as he let her go. He ached with wanting her. He wanted to bury himself in her soft body, to have her fiery, bone-melting, unforgettable kisses.
He groaned as if he had a terrible wound. She was right. They had over a century of feuding between their families, and he suspected there would be plenty more fussing between Claire and him when he cleaned up that metal box, because he was absolutely certain it would have the Reed name cut into it.
Even as he made the decision to let her go and thought about the feud, their differences and the anger between them with more to come, he wanted her. He craved her, wanted her in his arms. He was ready to make love to her and couldn’t keep images of her gorgeous body out of his thoughts. At the moment he didn’t give a damn about the feud, the metal box, their differences or the future. He just wanted to make love with her.
He ached to caress her lush, soft, fantastic breasts. She was breathtaking, beautiful, the sexiest woman he had ever kissed. And she wasn’t trying to be sexy. What if she wanted to be? That thought could send him up in flames, and he tried to shift his thinking.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He had to ignore her, forget kissing her. “Impossible,” he whispered to himself. He would never forget kissing her. He couldn’t possibly forget the feel of her breasts in his hands.
She had him tied in knots. They had spent their lives disliking each other, fighting each other or ignoring each other until their first kiss—that sexy kiss like no other he had ever experienced.
