And then she cried out, arching beneath him as everything spilled over into ecstasy.
As he shuddered above her, she heard a name whisper raggedly past his lips. Suddenly all that had passed before meant nothing … and the loneliness increased tenfold.
Austin stilled, his breathing labored, sweat glistening over his trembling body, self-loathing and guilt increasing as he felt Loree stiffen beneath him.
Ironically, he’d held no thoughts of Becky until her name escaped his lips, but he didn’t think it would soothe Loree’s hurt if he told her that. As a matter of fact, he could think of nothing to say, nothing to do that would ease the pain he’d caused her—and hurting her was the last thing he’d intended.
He eased off her. She rolled to her side, presenting him with her back, drawing her knees toward her chest. Reaching down, he pulled up a blanket and covered her.
He got out of bed, snatched up his britches, jerked them on, and headed outside. He stormed to the corral and slammed the palm of his hand against the post. The sound of vibrating wood echoed around him. He hit the post again and again. He would have kicked it if he’d thought to pull on his boots. He dug his fingers into the top railing of the corral, squeezed his eyes shut, and bowed his head.
He could argue that he’d been too long without a woman, but the argument would have been rift with lies because he knew that if he had lain with a woman that afternoon, he still would have wanted Loree tonight.
She was so incredibly sweet, pure, and innocent … all the delightful aspects of youth that a man lost as he grew older. When he had kissed her, felt the tentative touch of her tongue, he was the man he had been before prison. A man who believed in goodness. She had touched the tender part of himself that he’d locked away in solitary confinement in order to survive within prison walls. With her arms circling his neck, she had sent his good intentions to perdition and unleashed desires and needs that he’d kept tightly reined.
And for those few moments of splendor, when he had held her close, the loneliness that always ate at his soul had ceased to feast.
Until he had carelessly whispered another’s name.
Then the loneliness had consumed him once again and invited guilt to the banquet.
He slammed his palm against the post. Why in the hell had Becky’s name escaped his lips? She hadn’t been in his thoughts. Hell, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d just been feeling, feeling with an intensity he hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe that was the reason he’d spoken her name. He’d always associated deeply held emotion with Becky.
And that sure as hell hadn’t been fair to Loree.
He might have been able to forgive himself if he had something to offer her—but he had nothing. What woman would want to marry a man fresh out of prison? A man who couldn’t prove his innocence?
He had no job, no prospects.
Within his mind, he saw her golden eyes filled with trust. She had wanted the comfort he had to offer, and in taking it, she had given it back. He’d never wanted to taste anything as much as he’d wanted to taste her, to touch as much as he’d wanted to touch her, to know … He found it impossible to believe so little time had passed since he’d first set eyes on her.
Again, he slammed his palm against the post. A delicate hand covered his as it gripped the pillar.
“You’re gonna bust your hand if you’re not careful,” she said quietly.
Austin’s heart thundered so loudly that he barely heard the crickets chirping. Loree stood in the pale moonlight, her gaze watchful. She’d slipped into a nightgown and draped a blanket over her shoulders.
“Can’t see that it would be any great loss.”
She took his hand, turned it, and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I disagree.”
“Loree—”
“It’s all right. I was thinking of someone else as well.”
Her words sliced across his heart like a well-honed knife cutting deeply, the pain taking him off guard. He knew he deserved them, knew she had every right to say them, but he didn’t like hearing them. “Who were you thinking of?”
She angled her chin defiantly. “Jake.”
He heard the slightest hesitation in her voice and knew beyond any doubt that she was lying. Whether she was hoping to hurt him or salvage her pride, it didn’t matter. He’d give her back what he could.
“Then he’s a damn lucky man,” he said, surprised by the roughness in his voice.
She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. “Anyway, there’s no reason for you to sleep out here. The barn is probably still damp.”
Even now, after he’d hurt her, she was still more worried about him than herself. “Sleep doesn’t come easy for me.”
“For me either.”
