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Sex.
She’d been right about that, and so what? There was no reason to disguise a basic human need with layers of phony hearts and flowers.
It was her attitude that ticked him off.
They’d had good sex. Hell, he thought, knotting the towel around his hips and glaring at his face in the mirror, they’d had great sex.
The problem was, when it was over, she’d acted as if what had happened was ugly. As if he’d somehow forced himself on her, or coerced her into giving in to him.
“No way,” he muttered as he lathered his face and reached for his razor.
She’d been a willing participant.
More than willing, he thought, remembering the way she’d wrapped herself around him, her moans, her cries, her wetness and heat ….
His hand slipped. The blade bit at his flesh. A tiny dot of blood appeared high on his cheek.
He cursed, tore off a square of toilet tissue and dabbed at it.
It was true, though.
She’d been with him all the way. Clinging to him. Riding him. Kissing him, biting his lip …
“Dammit, Wilde …”
He was turning himself on. And wasn’t that interesting, for lack of a better word?
He hadn’t had an erection since he’d been wounded, even though the docs had assured him that his equipment still worked. Now, just remembering what he’d done with a woman he didn’t even like was giving him a hard-on.
What he needed, he thought coldly, was a trip to Dallas, a night at a singles bar where either some hot-looking babe with enough booze in her to ignore the face staring back at him from the mirror or one who’d find his face a turn-on would take him home to bed.
Did that explain last night? Was the McDowell woman the kind who saw something interesting in a man who was disfigured?
It didn’t matter.
His hormones were working again. They’d told him that would happen. It didn’t have a thing to do with her except that she’d been in the right place at the right time.
Jake splashed cool water on his face, tossed the towel aside and stepped back into his bedroom. His clothes were still in the closet and dresser, same as they had been when he first left for the army. He pulled on faded jeans. An equally faded chambray shirt. A pair of roper boots, the leather worn soft and pliable with age.
No need to wear his uniform anymore.
His time in the service was over. So was his life here, working the ranch. He’d loved both things, always figured one or the other would become his career.
Not anymore.
He needed a fresh start. Where, doing what … He had no idea. All he knew was that he was going in search of the answers.
Last night, he’d figured on heading out right away but another day wouldn’t matter. He wanted to spend a little time with his family.
He ran his hands through his damp hair, tucked his wallet and keys in his pockets, put the patch over his eye. A glance out the window revealed a pewter sky, ripe with the portents of rain.
A deep breath.
Then he grabbed a denim jacket, opened the bedroom door and went in search of coffee.
The Wildes were gathered in the kitchen.
The girls were at the stove, an amazing sight in itself because Lissa was the only cook among them and she usually shooed her sisters away.
