Homestead

Chapter Twenty

Tess jerked as flames shot through her, and she reflexively gripped Clay’s shirt in both hands. Twisting the fabric in her fists, she braced her arms to push Clay away, but the no forming in her throat gave way to a moan. The ache that had lived inside her for so long exploded into need, and some far deeper instinct compelled her to drag Clay closer, to meet the hot hard heat of Clay’s mouth with a hunger of her own. Clay pressed into her, and her back slammed into the tree. She slid her hand upward, over the hard muscles of Clay’s shoulder onto the soft skin at the nape of her neck. Her fingers found the silky strands, so sleek and seductive, and she gripped Clay’s hair, molded her breasts and her belly to Clay’s hard frame, wanting nothing between them. Clay’s arm around her waist was a steel band of possession, Clay’s thighs stone pillars anchoring her to the earth when she was in danger of spiraling out of control, fragmenting in a million directions. All her carefully constructed caution and self-preservation disintegrated under the demand of Clay’s hands and mouth.

Clay was kissing her and she was kissing her back.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only want. Another soft moan echoed through the roaring in her ears—hers, Clay’s? Clay’s mouth slanted over hers, demanding entrance, demanding surrender. Tess wanted her inside with a fierceness she’d never known. Helpless longing, a craving so profound her eyes flooded with tears, swamped her.

“Tess,” Clay groaned against her neck, “I want you.”

Tess’s back arched and she bared her throat, the scrape of Clay’s teeth sending shock waves deep into her center. Her thighs trembled and she opened, ready to give her anything. She would give her anything, everything, to sate this wild hunger, to staunch this storm of heat and passion. She would lay herself bare for her.

Take me. The words trembled on her lips, bruised and swollen and still famished for the taste of oak and earth and fire. Terror tore through her. Not again. Never again. She pushed at Clay’s chest. “No.”

“I need you.” Clay’s voice was a broken whisper, her body immovable, rigid as marble.

Tess turned her head away, gasped, “I can’t.”

“Please, Tess.” Clay’s mouth was at Tess’s throat. “You’re all I can think about.”

A sound, half groan, half sob, vibrated from Clay’s chest. Her shirt was soaked with sweat. The muscles under Tess’s hands quivered, hot and furious. Clay’s hips pinned hers to the tree, thrust against her, insistent and insatiable. Tess wanted to spread herself open, take her inside. She wanted the fury of Clay’s desire to bring her screaming into the flames until she burned to ashes.

“Oh God, I can’t.” Tess struggled to get free. “Clay—”

Ella’s voice, cool and strong, cut through the insanity. “Everything all right here?”

Clay stiffened, shuddered, a lit fuse ready to ignite.

Tess fought to steady her breath. “Yes,” she said, pushing at Clay again.

Clay braced her hand on the tree, her head down, breath rasping like a racehorse pushed too hard to the finish, ready to collapse. Tess ached to stroke her, to soothe her, but she couldn’t touch her now. She didn’t know what Clay would do. She didn’t know what she would do. All she knew was what she couldn’t do. She couldn’t give herself again, not to Clay. Not everything, ever again. Pushing harder, Tess made enough space to slide out from between Clay and the tree. She forced herself to back away, to leave Clay there, alone and vulnerable, and the ache was so huge she nearly cried out.

“Tess?” Ella said quietly.

“I’m fine.” Tess ran both hands through her hair, wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Hands on hips, Ella’s sharp gaze tracked between Clay and Tess. After a moment, she nodded. “I’ll be at the car.”

Tess turned to Clay, torn between comforting her and raging at her. “Why?”

Clay turned and sagged against the tree. “I lo—”

“Don’t,” Tess snapped. “Don’t you dare.” Fury scorched through her as strong as the desire seconds before. “You walked out of my life, without a word, and you say that to me now?”

Tess’s whole being vibrated with the urge to slap the words away, to hurt Clay the way Clay had hurt her. She fisted her hands, willed the raging fire to burn out, welcomed the ice slicing through her. “Go to hell.”

Tess rolled down the window of the SUV as Ella drove along the deserted roads toward the farm. The air held just the barest hint of a night breeze, a teasing promise of a break in the unrelenting heat that would disappear with the dawn. Just another in a long line of empty promises.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ella said quietly.

Tess’s face flamed. She would have been embarrassed at being so exposed to anyone, but knowing Ella had witnessed such a terrible private moment was beyond humiliating. “Sorry about all the commotion.”

“That’s all right. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Most things that really matter are.”

Tess glanced over at her and saw only gentle sympathy in her face. “You’re amazing. How did you get to be so understanding?”

“Am I?” Ella laughed. “I spend a lot of time watching people. Occupational hazard.”

“What have you learned?”

“That sometimes things are simpler than we think, and always more complicated.”

“That is very Zen,” Tess said softly. “I wish I could tell the simple from the complicated.”

Ella reached between them and squeezed Tess’s hand. “Tell me to back off if I’m out of line, but I get the feeling that everything between you and Clay isn’t past history.”

“It’s more like unfinished business.” Tess wished she could say more, Ella deserved more. But she couldn’t betray Clay’s confidences even if what they’d once shared hadn’t been what she’d believed. She’d held Clay, loved her. She’d loved her, and if she turned her back on that, she’d lose part of herself. “I realize this puts you in a terribly awkward position, and I’ll understand if—”

“Tess,” Ella said softly, turning down the drive to the farmhouse, “I enjoyed today. I’d like to do it again.”

“Even after tonight?”

“I like being with you.” Ella stopped by Tess’s front porch, put the SUV in park, and turned to Tess. “We don’t have to make it about anything more than that, right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Ella lifted Tess’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Very sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Like I said, some things can just be that simple.”

Tess wasn’t so sure, but her heart was weary and bruised, and she let herself be persuaded by the certainty in Ella’s voice and the warmth of her touch. She leaned across the space between them and kissed Ella lightly on the cheek. “I hope you’re right. Good night, Ella.”

Ella cupped her chin, brushed a thumb along her jaw. “Good night, Tess.”

Clay watched the lights of the SUV disappear around the corner. Tess was gone. For the briefest of moments with Tess in her arms, she’d shed all the lies and pretenses—she’d felt herself come alive, known the truth of herself again. Tess had always called to the best of her, and without her, she’d been little more than a chess piece on a board game of her father’s design. She’d willingly played along, and why not? She had nothing else. Only Tess had ever seen the deepest part of her.

Clay walked back into the tavern and up to the bar. Kelly appeared at her side, sipping a club soda.

“Staying for a while?” Kelly asked.

“I’m taking the Jeep out to the job site,” Clay said to her. “I’ll drop you at the motel.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kelly said amiably. “The TV reception in the motel room is so bad I was forced to try the pay channels last night, and the selections were, well, interesting.”

Clay didn’t want company. She wanted to break something. She needed to get the taste of Tess, sweet and tempting, out of her blood.

“What will you have?” The bartender, a redhead in a tight white T-shirt proclaiming Dairy Maids Are Fresher in bright pink letters, swiped the wood bar top in front of Clay and gave her a friendly once-over.

Clay noted her nipples created intriguing little bumps beneath the thin cotton and looked away. “A shot of Jameson, please. Make it a double.”

“Beer chaser?”

“Why not.” When the drink came she downed it in two swallows. The burn helped smother the acid eating away at her stomach, but Tess’s taste was still on her tongue, clover and rain. Her hands trembled, and the need rose up so hard and fast she wanted to throw back her head and howl. She chugged half the mug of beer and stared at the empty shot glass, considering another. Alcohol had never helped quench the fire that was Tess, but on rare occasions it had brought her forgetting. She tightened her fist around the glass.

“If it makes a difference,” Kelly said after a second, “I’ll be driving.”

Clay pushed the glass away. “I don’t want to forget.”

“Sorry?”

“Never mind.” Clay left a twenty on the bar and walked outside. The moon had risen—full and bright. The parking lot was lit up as if it were noon. Slivers of dark clouds slashed across the face of the moon as she watched, and were just as quickly gone.

Kelly walked up beside her. “Good night for a hayride.”

“Ever been?”

“No,” Kelly said, “but up here, it seems like something I ought to try.”

“Don’t take your clothes off. Hay itches like hell and you can never seem to find every last piece.”

“Is that the voice of experience?”

“Once,” Clay said softly. “Once I kissed a girl under a moon just like this in her daddy’s hayloft.” She looked at Kelly, who was staring at her intently. “Best kiss of my life.”

“Moon’s still up there,” Kelly said, her voice so gentle Clay hardly recognized it. “And I bet the loft and the girl are too.”

Clay shook her head. “No, not anymore.”

“Why don’t I take you home.”

“Just drive me to the site.”

Kelly didn’t argue and didn’t try to make conversation. Clay looked for Ella to pass them on the one road out of town, returning from Tess’s, but the SUV never appeared. Ella must still be at Tess’s. Clay focused on the lights marking the entrance to the NorthAm camp up ahead and not the pictures her mind wanted to paint of Ella and Tess.

The site was dark and quiet, the only lights those marking the turnoff to the access road through the woods. Until they were up and running, they only had a skeleton crew on-site at night, and most of them were either out or already asleep in the bunkhouses at the far end of the compound.

“I’ll get the gate.” Clay jumped out when Kelly slowed and pulled her key ring off her belt to unlock the heavy chain securing the twelve-foot-wide gate. When she got closer, she saw the length of chain dangling freely. The security lock lay in the dirt at her feet. Tensing, she scanned the woods on either side of her. Nothing moved. Here the moonlight was fractured by the tall evergreens, and shadows danced like wraiths. Someone could be standing ten feet away and she wouldn’t see them.

Clay backed up to the Jeep. “Someone’s cut the lock. Call Ella. Tell her to check the equipment at Tess’s.”

“You want her to come over here if it’s all clear?”

“No. Tell her to stay with Tess.” Clay pulled a flashlight from the rack behind the seat.

Kelly cut the engine. “Should I roust the locals?”

“No. I want to check out the place first.”

“Clay—”

Clay headed back toward the gate and the road that disappeared into the dark. “Take care of Tess first. I’ll be fine.”