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“The shower is all yours.” Her sideways glance bounced off his face, but not before she saw his mouth quirk at that familiar angle. Only this time there was a coldness to it.
It matched the hard edge in his voice when he spoke. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of dragging you out of the tub and throwing you on the bed.” He pushed out of the doorway, long impatient strides carrying him across the bathroom to the shower area. His hands jerked his shirttail loose and made fast work of the buttoned front as he went. “The thought crossed my mind, but you made damned sure it didn’t take root.”
Startled by the accusation, Jessy whirled in the tub, the sudden movement sloshing the water against the sides. “What?”
“The shower is all yours,” Ty mimicked in sarcasm and shrugged out of his shirt, wadded it into a ball, and threw it toward the hamper. “That’s a surefire way to get the message across that you’re not interested in any lovemaking.” He sat down on the velvet-cushioned vanity bench, a holdover from Tara’s days, and began tugging off his boots, dropping them to the floor. “I ought to know. Tara was an expert at it.”
Infuriated, Jessy demanded, “Stop comparing me with her!” All interest in the relaxing bath was gone. She rose to her feet and climbed out of the tub, snatching an oversized bath towel off its bar and wrapping it around her.
“It must be something you women learn at birth,” Ty grumbled and tossed his socks after his shirt, then stood to unbuckle his belt.
“That is ridiculous.” As far as Jessy was concerned, this entire conversation was ridiculous. And she wanted no more of it. Mindless of the water still dripping from her, she started for the bedroom.
“Leaving, are you?” Ty’s mouth twisted with grim amusement. “That’s another female trick. When the conversation takes a turn you don’t like, you just walk out.”
She spun back to face him. “You are clearly aching for a fight. Keep it up and you’ll get one.”
That had the ring of a threat. A Calder had never backed down from a fight, and Ty wasn’t about to be the first. In two strides, he crossed the space between them and caught her up. Jessy immediately pushed against his chest in hard resistance. Angered by it, Ty ground his mouth across hers, the clipped ends of his mustache scraping her skin. She fought him, but she was no match for his strength. They both knew it.
There was no letup in his demand. He wanted her with a kind of desperation even he didn’t understand. He molded her closer and felt her indecision, the wanting and not wanting of his kiss.
When she ceased her struggles, he rolled his mouth from hers and lifted his head to view her up-turned face. In her eyes were the first stirrings of desire, but they were still mixed with the heat of anger.
A dozen protests lay unspoken in her throat, each of them sounding too much like what Tara would have said. That galled Jessy even more.
“Sometimes I hate you, Ty Calder.” She pushed the words through her teeth.
A sudden softness warmed his eyes. “You told me that once before,” Ty remembered. “At the old Stanton cabin.”
That time their angry fight had ended in fierce lovemaking. She recalled it, too. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the lessening of tension in her body. When he lowered his mouth to hers a second time, she kissed him back with a driving hunger that matched his own.
Ty scooped her up, towel and all, and carried her into the bedroom. Unceremoniously he dropped her on the bed. The loosely tucked towel fell open, revealing every inch of her slim length, still glistening with dampness. With a swiftness that belied his earlier fatigue, he stripped off his jeans and shorts, and sank a knee onto the bed, lowering himself onto it.
Her hands were already reaching for him, avid in their need to reassert a closeness. Ty needed no urging. His hands slid over her, finding and cupping her small but highly sensitive breasts. He swallowed the sound of pleasure that came from her throat and nibbled his way along the long curve of her neck. She smelled of soap and all things earthy and strong. It swirled around him, primitive and potent.
Over the years, he had learned all the places that drove her wild. He explored them again, resisting the urgent press of her hands before finally stretching her arms above her head and slipping into her.
There was nothing between them. It was skin to skin, flesh to flesh, and need to need. This coupling between man and wife was old as time and new as tomorrow, full of heat and building pressure as they each strained for release, their bodies bucking in harmony when it came.
Jessy lay tucked along Ty’s side, her head pillowed on a shoulder, one leg draped over his muscled thigh. A liquid contentment flowed through her, leaving her feeling all limp and satisfied. She idly slid her fingers into his wiry chest hair, conscious of the slowing thud of his heart.
“I’m glad you threw me on the bed,” she murmured.
“Enjoyed it, did you?” His voice emanated from someplace deep inside. She felt the vibrations of it beneath her hand.
Jessy lifted her head and turned to look at him, resting the point of her chin on his shoulder. “Something tells me you made very sure I would.” A small, pleased smile touched her lips that he would care that much.
Ty shifted slightly to study to her face, noting the aftereffect of their lovemaking visible in her kiss-swollen lips, the lack of tension in her face muscles and the sated look in her heavy-lidded eyes. He took great male satisfaction in knowing he had put them there, not some other man.
It was a simple leap from that thought to the next. “Ballard could never make you feel like that.”
In that split second, all the good feelings were gone. Jessy rolled away and slipped off the opposite side of the bed.
“For your information, he will never have the chance,” she replied in a hard, flat voice then stalked to the tall bureau and began jerking open drawers.
Ty’s reaction was instant and firmly grim. “You’re damned right he won’t.” He levered up on an elbow.
“As if you have any say in it,” Jessy muttered, irritated, not for the first time, by such a possessive male attitude. “What is it going to take to get it through that thick head of yours that Ballard is simply a friend.” Jessy snatched up a set of underclothes and began tugging them on. “I have known him almost as long as I’ve known you.”
