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"C-curtains." Her voice trembled.
His eyes moved around the small, stark room and desolation gripped his features.
He stood to his full height and took his Stetson off. His hand went through his hair and the muscles in his back clenched. He tossed the hat down, and went to the water pump. He washed his hands and ran cold water over his face. Grabbing a towel, he dried the excess water as he turned. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest.
She tried again. "What's wrong, Jake? Are you mad at me?"
"No baby, I'm not mad at you." His voice was gentle as he hesitated. "I ran into Sam Bolton today. He already knew about the wedding on Saturday." His words trailed off. He wanted to share his fears with her, but didn't quite know how to go about it. He had always been a man of few words.
Becky stood listening to him, a myriad of feelings running through her. The irresistible way he called her baby was tingling down her spine, while the content of his words confused her. She prompted him. "And? Are you upset that I told Miranda?"
"No. That's not it. Sam told me about the house he built for you and Kyle." He pushed his fingers through his hair in agitation. He reiterated his words. "He told me about the damn house, Becky."
She could see he was upset, but didn't quite know why. Everybody in the county knew how rich the Bolton's were. It shouldn’t be news to Jake. She tried to explain it to him. "It wasn't supposed to be a secret, Jake. I thought you knew about the house. You know the Bolton's are rich, and that Kyle is their only child."
Her words pierced his heart. He knew she was only trying to explain things to him and make him understand, but somehow, that didn't make it any better. When Sam had told him about the huge house on the riverfront, everything Becky was giving up became clear to him. It made him see that Kyle Bolton's pursuit of her had been real. It had been carefully orchestrated, and the only thing standing in Kyle's way was Jake's own selfish desires for Becky.
He felt so damn guilty and selfish for wanting her for his own. He didn't have anything to offer her in comparison. Nothing at all. Only himself.
Graphic images of Becky living in that brick house by the river ripped through him. Denial tore through him.
Jealousy and frustration raged through him. Kyle Bolton was everything he was not. Young and whole, not a man broken down and burdened with nightmares from the war. He had a nice, respectable job in his Daddy's bank. He had a close knit family, a mother that doted on him. And more family wealth than the rest of the county combined. He could give Becky everything that Jake couldn't. A snarl of rage and frustration rose up in his blood.
Still, his conscience made him spell it out for her, one last time.
"I'll never be able to give you what the Bolton's can, Becky. I'll never be able to have a house like that built for you."
"I don't want what they have, Jake. That house means nothing to me. I don't want to marry Kyle. I want you."
Relief washed through him. That was the last chance she was getting. That damn kid had everything going for him. He damn sure wasn't getting Becky. Nobody was getting Becky. Nobody but him.
His voice turned feral. "Well, you don't have to worry about marrying him. You're marrying me. On Saturday." He threw down the towel and started towards her. "Luckily for me, the whole town knows we're getting married. Those two busybodies from the quilting circle have been spreading it all over. You're stuck. There's no way out for you now."
Her eyes caressed his face and held him captivated. She sent a soft smile his way. His anger and aggression didn't seem to have an effect on her. She only tempered it and returned it with softness. His guts clenched with need.
"I don't want a way out. You don't know how long I've wanted you, Jake," she whispered.
He reached one strong arm completely over the table to where she stood and swiped her wrist with one large hand. "Show me, Becky." He pulled her around to him and slammed her body full length into his. Their eyes clashed. Desire crashed through her. He reached up and took the pins from her hair. "Shake it for me," he demanded.
The blood was pounding through her veins and her body began to tremble. His masculinity was enough to leave her short of breath, his virility made her stomach knot up and her thighs clenched together. His blatant sexuality was potent. She had no defense against it.
Her body was pliant in his arms and her breath was coming in ragged gulps. She reached up and pulled her hair down from the half knot and gently shook it as he had demanded until it fell around her shoulders. His grasp tightened on her and turned even more possessive. He pulled her head back and lowered his mouth to her neck. He breathed in deeply of her scent and began to suck.
Pleasure seared her.
His head raised and his eyes blazed into hers as her scent and her softness intoxicated him. "How long, Becky?" he bit the words out, his voice gravelly, lust making speech more difficult.
She moaned in his arms, her body trembling.
His question pierced the haze of desire circling her. She shook her head back and forth. "What?"
He reluctantly eased his hold, fighting the primal instinct to take her now and make her his. If he didn't let her go now, they would both end up naked. He was just about to reclaim her and make it so when she wiggled away from him and moved to stand close to the door.
He looked at her as another pang of need rose up within him. "Tell me, sweetheart. I really want to know."
His tone mesmerized her. "What d-do you want to know?" Confusion filled her. She couldn't keep her mind on the conversation.
He watched her as he tried to restrain his physical pursuit. It would have to be enough for now just to get inside her head. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."
