Love's Own Reward Read online

  She twisted on top of him and the pressure of her hips ground a growling need way down deep. He responded with a wordless, nearly mindless rumble of want that vibrated beneath the soft mass of Charley’s breasts like angry thunder. His fingers skimmed back to mesh in her hair, angling her head ruthlessly to fit the eager slant of her lips to his. God, it was good! The storm of desperate passion blew up so suddenly, so fiercely, that he had no time to prepare for it. It seethed through him, goading him to a roughness far removed from his usual consideration. His kiss was bruising, demanding, drawing her up into his whirlwind of frenzied hunger. With his heart slamming against his ribs he dragged his mouth off hers to fasten hot kisses in a blazing trail down her neck. She didn’t try to protect against his hurtful urgency. That was what finally reached him through the glaze of desire. She wouldn’t protest. She was used to everyone taking all that she could give without a thought to what was returned to her. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that even though he was so aroused that it was worse than death to pull back from the edge. He had to put Charley first. Someone had to.

  His chest heaving with the effort of restraint, Jess clasped her by the back of the neck and pushed her face into his shoulder. He made himself wait out the shaking weakness of will, that craving to know the taste of her, the fit of her around him and the savage ecstasy of his own release. And as she shivered in his embrace, incredibly the urge eased. At least enough to allow for some control.

  “How you doing?” he whispered huskily against her hair.

  “Fine,” came a return whisper that sounded anything but.

  “Up for some more?”

  Her laugh was ragged, unbearably erotic. “You obviously are.”

  “Forget about that,” he panted, searching for the necessary resolve. He moved his hips in a contrary motion. God, she felt good against him. His voice deepened, sounding raw with emotion. “Let me take care of you, Charley.”

  She struggled to lift up, and he finally relieved the pressure of his hand on her neck. Propped on elbows resting on either side of his head, she let her fingertips toy with the damp hair clinging in rumpled, finger-combed waves to his temples. His eyes were bright, hot, absorbing, offering everything she wanted. And was afraid to ask for. “Jess, I don’t know . . .”

  “I know,” he argued softly. She let him lure her down for a sweet, sweet kiss. “We’ll take it slow. Trust me.”

  He waited for belief to darken her gaze, then turned on the wide, accommodating couch until he was on his side and Charley lay stretched out in his embrace. To keep her from sliding off the edge, he nudged up the hem of her gown with his knee to lock one leg over hers. Then he began his lingering lesson in love. He started with a kiss, slower, more sensual than any they’d shared thus far. Caresses followed, long, leisurely strokes that outlined the contour of her body. Charley made a low, impatient sound in her throat, her lips opening wider, her body rocking insistently, but he wouldn’t be rushed. And he wouldn’t let her miss one iota of the pleasure he meant to give her.

  By the time his hand found its way to the hem of her hiked gown, Charley was a quivering mass of anxious nerve endings. Just the brush of his fingertips along the inside of her thigh brought a groan of anticipation. He could feel the labored rhythm of her breathing intensify as each tantalizing movement brought him closer to the core of her passions. Then he was there, and he paused as her body jerked and trembled.

  “All right?” he asked, voice low and strained as hell. Her face jerked an affirmative in the cove of his shoulder, and she started to breathe again.

  “Jess . . . oh, Jess.”

  The way she said his name was a wild aphrodisiac. He almost lost it. Then, clinging to his intentions the way she was clinging to the woven couch cushions, he began to move his hand. Slow, sure revolutions, tempting excited little breaths from her, bringing back the twitch and tremble to the legs entwined with his.

  “Jess.”

  The sound caught in a soft sob.

  “That’s it, baby. Let go.”

  Her face was, jammed against the side of his neck. The hot little jets of air upon his skin had him gritting his teeth in an agony of control. God, if she didn’t go over the brink soon, he was afraid he would.

  “Jess . . .”

  “Hey, Jess!”

  His mind registered the different voice, but his concentration was trapped on the woman coming apart beneath his knowing caress. He thrust his fingers hard, deep into the heat of her, and Charley cried out, her body snapping rigid, then dissolving into a series of wonderfully violent tremors.

  “Oh . . . Jess.”

  “Jess! The door’s locked. Are you there?”

  As the spasms quieted to a nerveless shaking, Charley lifted her head. At first her gaze was dull, desire-drugged, then her focus sharpened upon a thought, upon a word.

  “Robert!”

  Jess slipped both arms around her in a fierce embrace, but she was twisting against it.

  “I can’t let him see me. He’ll know.”

  Jess was about to growl, “What the hell does it matter if Robert knows?” when she wriggled off the edge of the couch and out of his grasp. She started up on wobbly legs, then, almost as an afterthought, came down on one knee to kiss him so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs. And she was gone, stumbling through the shadows and staggering up the stairs.

  “Oh God . . .” Jess groaned with feeling. He scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled on an unsteady sigh. Everything inside him was wired tight and tensed to the limit. As he forced his muscles to relax, he heard the doorknob rattle impatiently.

  “Jess? Come on, man. I know you’re there.”

  Muttering every dire curse he could think of, Jess crawled off the couch and tottered to the door. Even before he’d jerked it all the way open, Robert was pushing inside. His gaze swept the room suspiciously, then turned upon the man leaning against the door.

  “Man, you look like a truck hit you,” he stated with typical bluntness.

  Don’t punch him, Jess. Charley would never forgive you.

  Voice gritty, he said, “You woke me out of a very pleasant dream.”

  “Sorry.” Robert brushed off his new friend’s mood with an airy gesture. “Where’s Charley?”

  “Upstairs, asleep unless all your bellowing woke her up, too.”

  Robert smiled in oblivious good humor, then gave Jess’s arm a fond slap. “I’ll just get what I need and get out of your way.”

  “Too late for that,” Jess muttered under his breath.

  In spite of his promise it took Robert a half hour to actually leave. By then Jess was grinding his molars and debating seriously on whether to break the man’s neck or just toss him bodily out the front door. Part of him wondered cynically if her playful brother knew exactly what he’d interrupted and was just trying to give them hell. Jess was raveling, seam by seam. The pressure building was too big, too powerful, too intensely personal. He knew he couldn’t hold it in much longer, but neither could he let his pent-up emotions rip loose in front of Charley’s brother. Goodbye, Robert. Go on. Get going. Get out—get out—get out! The image of Charley pushed into his mind, and he tightened his jaw.

  “Well, g’night, Jess.”

  No words had ever sounded so sweet with promise. Jess’s breath slid through his teeth in an uneven hiss. He resisted the urge to shove Robert toward the door to hurry him along.

  “You okay, man? You’re really on edge. Better cut back on the coffee.” And he smiled with such annoying devilry, as if to say, I’m no fool, buddy. A man’s got to watch out for his sister.

  “Keeps my heart going,” he replied with a narrow smile. Wouldn’t old Robert love to know what had his pulse hammering away like a pneumatic drill. His mouth widened into a wry grin.

  Then, finally, the door was shut a
nd secured. For a moment Jess leaned against it, clawing for the control it took not to bolt for the stairs. If Charley had seen the lean, ravenous look sharpening all the angles of his face, she would never again doubt what it was Jess McMasters felt for her. It was a look of raw need. Slowly he pushed away from the door and started across the room in a stiff, unnatural gait. His quicksilver gaze was on the darkened loft above. He took the first step, then the second. By the time Jess reached the top, his breathing was harsh and ragged. His chest hurt from the strain of it.

  “Charley?”

  There was no answering sound from the shadows cloaking the bed.

  Nerves stretched to the limit and trembling tautly, Jess advanced. He could make out the outline of her figure beneath a pile of covers. It seemed hardly bigger than a child’s. And added to the intolerable pain of want, a throat-aching tenderness rose. A protectiveness so savage, so deep, it wrung his spirit dry.

  She was asleep. He realized it the second he leaned over the bed. He’d intended to kiss her but he paused with his face inches from hers, his rapid breath feathering back her hair. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. Longing clamped around his windpipe like a vise.

  “Charley?”

  She murmured in contentment. She might as well have reached inside him and yanked out his heart. His features contorted in a spasm of emotion. And he knew he couldn’t wake her. Not to satisfy his desperate need for fulfillment. Though it cost him, and cost him dear, Jess backed off the edge of the bed.

  “Sleep tight, baby.”

  Eight

  LEAVING WAS always hard on Charley. But this time it wasn’t only Robert and the sense of helping one-on-one she was leaving behind. It was the unexpected intimacy she’d found with Jess. She didn’t try to fool herself into thinking they would experience that again once they returned home. She had Alan and Jess would have a bevy of husky-voiced messages from ladies waiting on him. And then, there was the unavoidable fact that he hadn’t come upstairs to finish what they’d started.

  Charley wasn’t exactly sure when she’d begun falling in love with Jess. The way he’d soaped her face, sleeping with him in the big recliner, that first soul-searing kiss. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was what now? He’d given and given and given to her; of his time, of his tenderness, of his heart-stopping talent in the love making department. But he hadn’t asked anything of her. When he saw her need, he filled it. Wasn’t there anything he wanted from her? She’d hoped when he kissed her . . . but those kisses weren’t pursued. Was it because of Alan? Or because she wasn’t the kind of woman Jess wanted for himself?

  It had taken every scrap of her inner courage to go to him the night before. But it had been well worth it. There was no way to describe the sensations he’d caused to shatter through her. They were like nothing she’d ever experienced. She’d tried to stay awake while he and Robert were talking downstairs but the seeping lethargy had stolen her will. When she woke, it was morning and the realization that Jess hadn’t come to her was a crippling disappointment. Apparently what had been an intensely moving moment for her hadn’t meant as much to him. But she wouldn’t hold it against him. He’d given her paradise. It wasn’t his fault she had nothing he wanted in return. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her. She should be used to her gifts of affection not being enough. But still, she ached for more.

  Charley cast a troubled look toward Jess. He’d said little since getting behind the wheel except concern about her hands. Nothing about the state of her heart. He’d been so terribly remote this morning. There’d been no time to discuss what had happened on the couch, what might have happened had Robert not intruded. And now that she and Jess had time aplenty, he was disinclined to explore that unfinished business. Perhaps to him, it was finished. What could she say that wouldn’t sound like she was whining for his attention? Like the insecurities of an immature girl? Better to stay silent and retain her dignity then to reveal the confusion in her heart. At least this way she was giving him the choice. No pressure, no weight of obligation. It would be up to him. And Charley trembled, at his mercy.

  As they turned into the parking lot of her complex, there was no feeling of homecoming. Only a mounting sense of impending separation. When he pulled into a space and cut the engine, Charley felt as though part of her shut down as well; the part of her that beat warm and fast, that knew excitement and joy, that understood how painful it was to yearn for a love returned. Moistness welled in her eyes and she blinked it back determinedly when Jess asked, “Ready?” She managed a brisk nod and got out while he reached around into the back seat for her bag.

  “Hey! There she is! Miss Carter, can I have a moment for a few questions?”

  The young reporter charged across the parking lot trailing cables and a camera man. He came to a stop before her, out of breath and flushed with eagerness. He talked so fast, she didn’t have a chance to interrupt.

  “You’re one hard lady to get a hold of! Miss Carter, I’d like to say how much I admire you for what you did and it would mean a lot to those who’ve followed the story to see you in person. The papers have you built up like some kind of legend. I’d like to show my viewers that you’re just an average woman who reacted to an extreme circumstance. I’d like them to feel that any one of them could be in your shoes. What do you say, Miss Carter? Do you have the time?”

  Charley stood stiff and still, waiting for the attack of nerves. But it was just the one earnest-faced reporter and a bored fellow with his mini-cam. She took a deep, careful breath. And felt fine. What he said made sense. If she talked to him, perhaps the others would leave her alone. She’d be, as Jess put it, old news. She shot a quick glance across the car but he was burrowing in the back seat. She swallowed and turned toward the anxious newsman. Her first reaction was to touch her hair.

  “I look awful.”

  The reporter grinned. “You look great! How about standing over here where the light is better.”

  “Just a few questions?”

  “Promise.”

  She forced the tension from her shoulders and offered a faint smile. “All right.”

  After a brief introducing lead in, the questions were brief and general. There was no threat and Charley responded easily.

  “How are your hands, Miss Carter? I understand you were severely burned when you attempted to reach the Osgoods.”

  “Starting to itch.” Yes, she was healing, she realized with some relief. She could get her life back on course.

  “Have you had any contact with the Osgood family?”

  “Not since the hospital. Though I have called several times to find out how Chris is getting along.”

  “Chris? The little boy, Chris Osgood. And how is he?”

  “Better,” she said with a genuine smile toward the camera. “Much better.”

  “Will you be seeing the Osgoods again?”

  “I believe they’ll be at the ceremony next Monday.”

  “Have you decided what to do with the reward money?”

  “No,” she answered honestly.

  “You’ve become quite the media star since all this happened. I’ve heard that cable television wants to option your story. Is that true?”

  “I really don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “What about print features? Does Metro Magazine have an exclusive or are you holding out for offers?”

  “Metro?” Charley began to frown.

  “That’s enough.” Jess cut in brusquely. He put one hand over the reporter’s microphone and the other over the lens of the camera. “You have your story. Miss Carter is tired.”

  The reporter switched off the mike. He eyed Jess thoughtfully. “Yep. Got my story and my answer. Thank you, Miss Carter. This should air on the evening news.”

  Jess’s fingers pinched her upper arm as he guided her away fro
m them. She was a bit surprised by the vehemence darkening his expression, but that couldn’t overshadow the way his protectiveness lightened her heart. He fished her keys from his coat pocket and held the door for her. But with every step on each of the three flights up, Charley’s mood began to falter. Then he was swinging open the door to her apartment, issuing her inside the familiar clutter. He strode straight to her bedroom and tossed her bag onto the bed. He was out again before she could even think to suggest he linger a moment longer than the time it took to pitch her dirty laundry.

  “Are you all set here? Is there anything you need me to do?”

  Yes, she wanted to cry out. I want you to hold me, to kiss me, to tell me you care. I don’t want you to go. But there was an impatience in his face, a restlessness that spoke of his desire to get away and back to the things he had waiting. So Charley choked down the massive lump in her throat and said, as if it weren’t tearing the heart from her, “No, thanks, Jess. I can handle things.”

  He hesitated, toeing her carpet, canting a look at her from under a downcast brow. It was a small thing, just a quick glance up at her and then away. But in that fleeting second she got an impression of dragging reluctance so strong it was almost physical. As if there was no place on earth he’d rather be than here with her. That was ridiculous, of course. Probably wishful thinking on her part. But it brought a sudden fullness to her throat. She inhaled a tortured breath as his stare came up once more, slowly, affixing hers in a way that was intense, absorbing.