Beneath the Stetson(31)

Breathing hard as he pulled back, he brushed aside the lapel of the robe she wore, baring her breasts. “It’s not confidence if it’s a fact. Every time I get near you, I get hard.”

“Gil!”

He nuzzled her nose. “What, Bailey?”

She shook her head, surveying him with a slight smile. “I never knew you could be this way.”

“I’m guessing you saw me as an uptight, judgmental, obstructive pain in the ass.”

The smile broadened. “You said it, not me. But that’s not all. I knew you were a gorgeous man and a loving father, so that balanced out your less stellar qualities.”

“I’m sorry I made your job difficult.”

“You’re hardly the first. I’m rarely a popular person.”

“I can’t believe that. Criminals probably line up for the opportunity to be alone with you in a tiny interrogation room.”

“You’ve been watching too many cop shows on television. I do a lot behind the scenes, but it’s rarely glamorous.”

He stroked her hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re here tonight,” he said, deadly serious.

Her gaze searched his. “Me, too.”

This time, he was clearheaded, but no less hungry. He retrieved protection, rolled it on, and returned to her side. Slowly, wanting to draw out the moment, he moved over her and into her. Bailey lifted her hips and took him deep, her wide-eyed gaze holding mysteries he was unable to fathom. Did she feel the earth move? Was she already thinking about leaving him tomorrow?

The warm, tight clasp of her flesh on his made him woozy. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the lazy slide in and out. Bailey tried to urge him on with incoherent pleas. But he was set on a course that was as immovable and inexorable as the tides. What had started out as something of a one-night stand was shifting and changing. His brain shied away from the implications, even as he grappled with his need for her.

He had a son to consider. And a home in Royal. But the woman beneath him, her body soft and yet strong, had bewitched him. How could he go on with life as usual, knowing what he was giving up?

She was no happy homemaker in apron and pearls. Bailey was a competent career woman. Based in Dallas. Where she would have ample opportunities for advancement.

His body said with finality that the time for analysis was over. His jaw tightened and his legs quivered as the urge to come struck furiously and without quarter. Dimly, he heard Bailey cry out as she found completion. His own climax was more of a tornado, snatching him up, ass over heels, and dropping him into a void of sated bliss so dark and deep he wanted to revel in it forever.

They stayed in bed this time, too exhausted to move. Bailey’s head lay on his chest. One of her arms curled across his waist. He floated on a sea of contentment that was unprecedented. In that moment, he believed anything was possible.

Bailey stroked his chest idly, her fingers tracing the line of hair that ran from his collarbone to his groin. So mellow was he that her first quiet question didn’t even cause him heartburn.

She sighed softly, her eyes shielded by long lashes. “Will you tell me more about your wife?”

He kissed her forehead. “Not much left to tell. We married young. She had serious emotional problems. Her parents were wackos who subjected her to an unimaginable adolescence.”

“Does Cade ask about her?”

“He used to, from time to time. Now he’s more interested in finding Mrs. Addison Number Two.”

“Has he ever visited his maternal grandparents?”

Gil stiffened. “Not a chance in hell. My wife took an overdose of pills but lingered long enough to beg me not to ever let our son near her parents or their way of life. The custody case drew statewide attention. I think the cult—for lack of a better word—that my in-laws embraced began to worry that the government might take a closer look at them, so they moved the entire group over the border into Mexico.”

“I’m so sorry, Gil. It must have been a nightmare for you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

She was quiet for a few minutes, and then she sat up in the bed. “If you have one more of those little packets, I think I’m in the mood to see the view from the top.”

* * *

When Bailey awoke the next morning, the spot beside her was empty. In an instant, full recollection of what she had done rolled over her in a mix of exhilaration and panic. Raising up on her elbows, she saw a note on Gil’s pillow written in dark scrawl on a scrap of paper:

Didn’t want things to be “weird,” so I’m giving you your space.

He had signed his name and added a crooked smiley face. She smiled, half-sorry he wasn’t with her, but more than a little relieved to have a moment to compose herself. Lying in Gil’s bed felt deliciously decadent. She was usually an early riser, eager to start the day. But for once, she allowed herself a few minutes to revel in the memories of last night.