Badlands (25 page)

She smiled, as if she thought he was kidding. “I like this place,” she said, tracing the underside of his arm.

“By my armpit?”

“Your armpits are sexy.”

“If you say so.”

“Or here.” She splayed her hand over his rib cage. “In cursive, written sideways.”

Rib tattoos hurt like hell, but he’d do it for her.

She kissed his clenched stomach, which was already occupied. “This is nice,” she said, licking his hip bone. His dick throbbed for the same attention. She gave it to him, pressing her lips to the erection straining the front of his jeans.

“There, too?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I like that the way it is.”

So did he. Threading his hand through her hair, he pulled her back up to his mouth, kissing her curved lips. “I love you, Penny,” he said, unable to keep it inside another moment. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

She stared at him in wonder. Her eyes filled with tears, and he held his breath, worried that he’d blown it. “I love you, too.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”

“I love you, too,” she said, sniffling. “I don’t know how long it’s been. I’ve wanted you for years, but I didn’t realize I was in love with you until Shane separated us. When he demanded that I tell him how I felt about you, I choked.”

“It’s okay,” he said, hugging her closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe it would have turned out different....”

“No. Don’t blame yourself.” He kissed the tears from her eyes, amazed by the revelation. She was in love with him? Penny Sandoval, the most beautiful woman in the world, was in love with him, Owen Jackson?

Un-fucking-believable.

Instead of questioning it too much, he sought to make himself useful. Maybe if he knocked her socks off with his performance, she’d keep loving him. It couldn’t hurt.

He wanted to be on top, but his injured hand impeded him, so he brought her to the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his fly, he knelt on the carpet before her and kissed her shoulder. Her bra strap fell down her slender arm.

“Do you want me to take it off?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said, cupping her breasts. They filled his hands, and he had big hands. Her brown nipples thrust against the sheer pink nylon. He put his open mouth to her, sucking her through the fabric. When she moaned, twisting her fingers in his hair, he sucked her other nipple, aroused by the sight of the damp cloth on her skin. She was wet between her legs, too. He pushed her sleek thighs wider to look.

She squirmed at his intimate perusal, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Stimulating her nipples through the fabric had worked. He kissed her quivering inner thigh, inhaling her womanly scent. The pretty, swollen lips of her sex were parted. He kissed her gently, swirling his tongue around her clitoris.

Gasping, she tilted her hips toward him, as if seeking firmer contact. He licked harder, pressing down with his tongue. She threw her head back with a groan, bracing her hands on the mattress behind her.

He didn’t rush. He loved the little sounds she was making, the way she pressed herself against his mouth. The erotic challenge of holding her at the edge of orgasm appealed to him. But he also wanted a deeper taste. Sliding his hand up her thigh, he tugged aside the damp fabric covering her sex. If he stroked the nub of her clit, she’d come.

“Finger yourself,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She took off her bra first, freeing her gorgeous breasts. Then she pushed his hands away and stood, stripping those sweet panties down her hips. Resuming the position, she splayed her perfect thighs for him and slid one finger inside.

This was the kind of penetration that had triggered a flashback. Watching her, he felt only lust and anticipation. When she removed her finger, he brought it to his mouth and sucked, holding her gaze.

“I want you inside me,” she said, her expression pained.

He felt the same ache to come, the driving need to become one with her. Heart racing, he replaced her finger with his, testing her snug heat. “Jesus,” he said, shuddering as he withdrew. “You’re so wet.”

She grabbed the condoms and tore open a package with her teeth. Doing the honors, she rolled it down his stiff erection. Her mouth formed a sexy moue as she squeezed him, murmuring her approval. He placed the blunt tip against her, dizzy from exhilaration. With a kiss for luck, he slid forward, inch by inch.

She panted against his mouth, clinging to him. “Okay?”

A jerk of his hips answered the question for him. He thrust into her with no finesse, no tenderness. “Sorry,” he groaned, lost in sensation. “You feel so good.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“More.”

He withdrew a little, his teeth clenched. The surface of the condom was shiny and slick from her. She was so hot, so slippery and swollen. He plunged in again, hearing her moisture, imagining it against his bare skin.

Owen forgot about her pleasure and took his. Gripping her bottom, he pounded into her, slamming hard and deep, pumping away like a maniac. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, which mesmerized him utterly. She made a sexy little fuck-me sound every time his pelvis bumped into hers.

It was over in the blink of an eye. Two minutes, tops. He tried to last, but she felt like heaven, and he was too far gone. With a hoarse cry, he plunged to the hilt, his shoulders quaking from the power of his release.

When he returned to reality, he became aware of the tension in her body. Her fingernails bit into his nape, and her breath huffed against his neck. Her spine was slightly arched, seeking the satisfaction he’d denied her.

“You didn’t... ?”

“No,” she said, her breasts lifting.

“Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “That wasn’t the plan at all.”

“Don’t apologize. Just touch me.”

Still buried inside her, he cupped her lovely breasts, sweeping his thumbs over her puckered nipples. Her inner muscles fluttered around his cock, which hadn’t softened much. He looked down at where their bodies were joined, curious. Placing his thumb over her clitoris, he moved in slow circles. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

After a minute, he realized that his mindless banging had used up some of her moisture. He licked the pad of his thumb and repeated the same motion, with better results. She moaned, rocking her hips. He studied her face, enthralled by the sight of her sensual abandon. When she came apart, he felt it. Her thighs quivered, and her sheath gripped him like a silky fist. She cried out his name, bucking against him. He groaned at the sweet pulse of her flesh as his cock hardened inside her, ready for more.

When the tremors subsided, Penny opened her eyes. Aware of his renewed arousal, she glanced down. “Again?”

“If you want,” he said, hopeful. “I can do better.”

She laughed, hugging his neck. “You were perfect.”

It had been the best sex of his life, so he didn’t argue. “I should probably...get a new condom.”

“Good idea.”

He closed his hand around the base of his penis and pulled out. After disposing of the used condom, he came back to bed and donned another.

“Where were we?” she asked.

“Right here,” he murmured, sliding back into her.

He lasted longer this time, and moved slower, discovering new ways to make her moan. He learned every inch of her body, and she explored his. They experimented with taste and touch and different positions. When she climbed on top, he felt a mild panic, which she eased with a lingering kiss. “I love you, Owen.”

For those words, he’d brave anything. Face any obstacle, fight any demon.

“I love you, too,” he said, his throat tight. Pushing aside the pain and trauma of his past, he focused on the present. There was only pleasure, only Penny. He took the solace she offered and gave his entire self in return.

He was hers, body and soul, forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“W
HAT
WILL
YOU
DO
if my father doesn’t write you that letter?”

Owen rolled on to his stomach, mumbling his response into the pillow. He’d made good on his vow to do better, so good that Penny finally had to shove him away in exhaustion, overstimulated but happy.

He loved her; she loved him. They both loved Cruz. This was going to work out.

“Seriously,” she said, nudging his shoulder.

“I’ll get by.”

“How?”

He lifted his head, resting his weight on his elbows. “Well, I won’t have a chance with the LAFD. It’s too competitive. I have some firefighter contacts in San Diego, but that’s also a tough market.”

“Where else could you go?”

“I’d have to be open to travel anywhere in California. Even then I might not get an offer. They don’t want convicted felons in public safety jobs.”

“They hired you at Sierra National Park.”

“I could go back there. I like rescue work.”

Penny frowned at this answer. She didn’t want Owen to leave L.A. The Sierras were rugged and isolated. “What about private security?”

“Iffy, without references. And I don’t really like it.”

“You’re good at it.”

He shrugged. “Worst-case scenario, I can get a job welding or in auto mechanics. I know how to fix things. I’m handy.”

She stretched out on her back, contemplative. It troubled her to think of Owen living in the sticks or taking odd jobs for low pay. His calm acceptance of the situation only served to emphasize the differences between them. He expected hardships, and met them with equanimity. She expected fairness and smooth sailing.

He kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed, clutching the sheets to her chest. He was so handsome, with his disheveled hair and sleepy blue eyes. He’d overcome so much. She believed him capable of anything. “Should I get a tattoo, you think?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your skin is flawless.”

She compared her arm to his, noting the different shades. “You don’t want your name on my body?”

His gaze traveled south, studying her curves. “There is one place....”

“Where?”

To her surprise, he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her ring finger. “Here.”

She flushed at the romantic gesture. Before she could form a response, he stripped away the sheet and marked a few other choice locations. She dissolved into giggles, her tummy quivering from his kisses.

When he was done tormenting her, he drew her into his arms and fell asleep, his face buried in her hair. She longed to drift off with him, but she couldn’t stay. Her sister was babysitting Cruz, and they both had school in the morning. Easing out of the bed, she pulled her clothes on. Before she reached for the bedside lamp, she took a long look at Owen, her chest swelling with love for him. He was lying on his stomach, one knee bent, his arms tucked under the pillow. The clover on his well-muscled back proclaimed him lucky. He’d certainly been blessed with a strong body, a quick mind and a pure heart.

Switching off the light, she slipped out of the room. Her purse was sitting on the coffee table next to a stack of mail. When she picked it up, she accidentally knocked a few letters off the edge. As she knelt to replace them, she saw a letter from her father. His return address was scrawled on the corner of the envelope. Maybe he’d had an attack of conscience and sent the recommendation early.

She tore it open, her pulse racing. This correspondence
was
her business. Owen had saved her life and promised to take care of her. She felt obligated to protect him, in return. He needed an ally against her father.

The letter inside wasn’t a recommendation to the LAFD. It was an employment offer from Chief Pritchard of the Mendocino County Fire Department in Northern California. Mendocino County was hundreds of miles from here, farther away than Sierra National Park. There was a check attached to the offer, with a brief note from her father:

An opportunity and a bonus, per our last conversation. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Thank you for all you’ve done for Penny.

JS

“Son of
a
bitch,” she said, dropping the contents on the table. The check offered a generous sum, too sizable to ignore. Without waking up Owen, she walked out the front door, locking it behind her. The drive home took less than ten minutes.

She seethed the whole time, her hands clenched around the steering wheel.

How could her father do this to her? And
why?

As soon as she parked in their huge garage, she got out and stormed into the house, her heels clicking on the granite flooring. Her parents had a dinner party scheduled this evening. Penny entered the dining room, interrupting dessert.

“I need to speak with you,” she told her father in Spanish.

Her mother stared at her with dismay. Penny realized how she must look: hair mussed, dress hastily buttoned. She probably appeared to have been doing exactly what she’d been doing. Her mother apologized to the guests—John Wendell among them—while her father rose from the table, tossing down his napkin. “Excuse me.”

Playing the doting father, he led her to the study. He was wearing an elegant three-piece suit, his tie loosened, shirt slightly wrinkled from a long day. When she was a little girl, she’d thought him the most handsome man in the world. Now he looked older and less princelike. “What is it?”

As if he didn’t know. “Is Owen going to face charges?”

“No,” he said, after a pause. “His statements match up with yours and the accomplices. The evidence supports his story.”

“Then why did you threaten him and warn him away from me?”

“I only want the best for you,
mija.
”

“What makes you so sure he’s not it?”

“He’s so...damaged.”

“And that makes him unworthy?”

“It makes him unpredictable.”

“Bullshit,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There are two types of heroes,” he said sadly. “Any military leader will tell you this. There are men who take risks because they’re brave and self-sacrificing. And there are men who do it because they have psychological issues.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Psychological issues?”

“Personality disorders are common after traumatic experiences.”

“He doesn’t have a personality disorder, but I’m starting to wonder if you do.”

“He’s unstable.”

She shook her head, annoyed. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Every infatuated girl says that.”

“I’m not a girl, Dad. I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m a mother.”

“You’re a caretaker. You want to save him.”

“He saved
me,
” she said, her fist to her heart.

“And you’re mistaking gratitude for deeper feelings.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!”

His brows rose at her outburst. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am, to build a better life for my family. I’ve given you the best of everything. Of course I don’t want to see you throw yourself away on a man of such little consequence.”

His words were so insulting, her jaw dropped open. “How dare you judge him like that? Being poor isn’t a personality disorder or an indication of faulty character. You also came from nothing, remember?”

“I didn’t rob a liquor store or shoot a handful of people.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. Owen had a tough childhood, and he got in trouble as a teenager, but he’s a good person. He’s strong. He’s that first type of hero.”

“He’s a convicted felon. It’s an embarrassment.”

“Like my pregnancy?”

He dragged a hand down his face, not answering.

Penny realized that she’d encouraged her father’s overzealous behavior, to some extent. She’d been too dependent on him, too accepting of his interference. She’d brought shame upon their family by having a child out of wedlock. When her father welcomed her return with open arms, she’d been relieved. He
had
given her everything.

But now it was time for her to stand on her own. Next to Owen.

“What happened to accountability and rugged individualism and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps?” she asked, throwing his own words back at him. “Owen has come a long way, and he’s going to make something of himself. He epitomizes the American ideals you emphasize, but you give him a handout to get rid of him?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t know you listened to my speeches.”

“I listen. I just don’t agree with you.”

“At least you understand well enough to form an opinion. Raven disagrees with me just to be contrary. And Leslie agrees to be...agreeable.”

Penny nodded, knowing this was true.

“The check is a token of my appreciation, not a handout. It’s also an apology of sorts. I regret what I said about bringing charges against his mother.”

“You threatened his mother,” she said, stunned.

“He didn’t tell you that?”

“No. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”

“I went too far,” he admitted. “Will he accept my offer?”

“I have no idea. I opened your letter while he was asleep and came right here.”

He examined her disheveled appearance, aware that she’d been in bed with Owen. She didn’t care if he thought her behavior was loose or immoral. “Why don’t you consider this a test? If he cashes the check and leaves, it wasn’t meant to be between the two of you.”

She pointed her finger at him. “If it’s a test, then you’re the one who failed. Owen deserves better, but I think he’ll take your shady deal. And when he moves to Mendocino, I’ll go with him.”

His mouth went slack. Clearly he hadn’t realized how serious she was about their relationship.

“Cruz and I will go with him.”

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“Why are you so determined to ruin your life?”

“Why are you so determined to control it?”

“Because you’re exceptional, Penny. You have that spark. Everyone sees it. When your face is on the television screen, people stop to look. They
listen
to you, and they believe you. You remind me of myself at your age.”

“I have to live my own life, Dad.”

“You want to be a firefighter’s wife, living paycheck to paycheck?”

She was frustrated with him for assuming that Owen would drag her down, and for suggesting that she was wasting herself if she didn’t marry someone rich and important. “You don’t get it. I love him, and that’s what really matters.”

He grasped her upper arm. “Please.”

She shook loose. “I don’t need your support or your approval. If you can’t wish me well, stand aside.”

“I wish you the moon and the stars.”

The words brought tears to her eyes. He used to say that when he’d tucked her in at night. But she wasn’t his little girl anymore.

“Don’t go,” he said. “I love you and Cruz.”

She glanced back at him, weakening. “You’re one of the reasons Owen fought so hard against the kidnappers, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thought they might attempt to assassinate you during the money exchange.”

Her father took a moment to absorb this information.

“I’m sorry about the campaign,” she said with sincerity. “But you can’t blame Owen for what his brother did. He risked his life to protect our family.”

He met her gaze. “You’ve really got your heart set on him?”

“Yes. I don’t care how much money he makes. I love him, and he’s wonderful with Cruz. We’ll be happy.”

His struggle to come to terms with this—another loss—was plain to see.

She put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m an adult now. I need you to let me make my own decisions.”

“Will you stay in L.A.?”

“Not if Owen leaves.”

“He was an exemplary employee,” her father said begrudgingly.

“I know.”

“I’ll give him a letter of reference. I’m sure he can get an entry-level firefighter position here in the city.”

She smiled up at him, pleased. “Thank you.”

He patted her head. “Let’s not mention this to your mother.”