Chapter Eleven

Emma's POV

I was glad that Forrest had chosen to drive his new Ford V-8 for our mysterious trip, because it provided a much smoother ride than his old pickup truck did, and I could sit still in the seat beside him, cuddled as close to him as I could reach, and not jiggle about, here and there, like a bowlful of Jell-O. There had been a time, earlier on in our courtship, when I wouldn't have dared to be so bold as to lay my hand high on his thigh while we drove along, but the events of late had made me a good deal brasher, and I kept my palm pressed against the muscles of his inner thigh, even caressing him every now and then, which made him gasp each and every time.

"Do I at least get to have a clue about where we're headed to?" I asked, turning toward him, and nuzzling my nose against his neck, then blowing on the tip of his earlobe. He made a funny sound deep in his throat, one that made a deliciously wicked shiver take hold of me between my thighs, and I started to giggle, but then the car swerved back and forth on the road and I knew that this wasn't a good time for me to indulge in a laugh.

"We'll be headed straight for the hospital if you keep that up, missy," he growled warningly and I started to move back away from him, to show him that I could behave if I had no other choice, but he stopped me by reaching down with his hand, which had been resting on my shoulder, to grab hold of me by my waist and pull me back against his side. "Hmm…but that don't mean that I want you to move away from me, now does it, darlin'?"

He was a man who enjoyed and appreciated cuddling, and that was a dream come true for me, because I would have been happy to spend the day doing so, if I could have. Of course, I had to pretend that it was a hardship for me, a bit of acting that was made complete by me sighing deeply before I returned to his side, which was a move that he punished by sliding his hand behind my back, and further, down to my bottom, which he pinched, then patted, very hard, with his palm.

"Hey, that hurt," I told him, reaching back to rub my hand against my smarting backside. My reaction was playacting, for the most part, though the tweak had stung, and the swat had been more forceful than a simple love pat would have been. "I don't think that was a very nice or gentlemanly thing for you to have done, Mr. Bondurant."

He slowly turned his head toward me and gave me a look that set my heart to pumping in a furious, thundering rhythm. "Hmm…I suppose that it wasn't, Miss Tyler," he murmured, pleasing me further by ignoring the name that I'd taken on the day that I married Walton. "Now then, either I can be courteous, and apologize for what I did, or I could kiss the spot that I hurt and make it feel all better… which would you like for me to do, darlin'?"

Oh, Lord. I could feel my face growing hotter and hotter, and the way that he was looking at me, paired with the words that he'd just spoken, made a tiny, quivery cadence burst to life between my thighs. "I suppose the ladylike thing for me to do would be to tell you to apologize, but I'm not feeling all that prim and proper, if you want to know the truth, and if you don't mind, I'd rather you kiss me instead."

He pushed down on the brakes with enough force to send me sliding forward on the seat, but he was holding me so tightly that I was in no danger of hitting the dashboard. There was just enough space on the side of the road for him to move the car out of the way of any traffic that might come by and he reached out and turned off the ignition, and then turned to take me into his arms, moving across the seat as he did, so that he was sitting in the middle, and then he placed me right on his lap, with one of my legs straddling each side of his body.

"I told myself that I was going to be good until we got to Eden," he said hoarsely, slowly sliding his hands beneath the hem of my dress, drawing it up, so that it was bunched around my hips. "I told myself that it wouldn't be right for me to lay a hand on you until we got there and could discuss something very important first, so that we wouldn't make any decisions in a fit and a fever, but it seems like my good intentions go right out the window every time that I'm around you, don't they, darlin'?"

I heard his words through the blood pounding in my ears, and my quickened breath and racing heart, and I tried to follow along with what he was saying, I really and truly did, but he wasn't making it very easy on me. I might have been more successful in my endeavor if he didn't insist on unzipping my dress and pulling it down in the front, along with my slip, to bare my breasts, but I wasn't all that inclined to complain, especially once I felt his calloused thumb rub across my nipple, and certainly not after he bent his head and took it into his mouth and suckled it until I was forced to move myself against his hand, the one that he'd slipped between my thighs sometime between my zipper being lowered and the steady, gentle clasping of his mouth.

"Oh, Forrest," I sighed, a soft sound that ended in a gasp, and then a whimper when I felt his fingers moving, searching, until they found their way inside of my panties. "That feels so good, honey. Please don't stop, oh, God…please don't stop."

I suppose that I ought to have been grateful that dusk was upon us, a little darkness that would serve to shield us from the scrutiny of an oncoming vehicle, should one pass us by, because there was no way that I could move away from him and hide myself, not when I felt his fingertip find, and caress, the little button that usually hid itself within the folds of my femininity.

"Hmm…don't worry, sweet baby," he murmured, moving his head, to take hold of my lips with his own. "I ain't going nowhere, Emma. We're staying right here until I'm sure that you've been satisfied, alright, darlin'?"

To answer him verbally would have been the polite thing to do, but I remembered that I'd already told him that I wasn't in a prim or proper mood, that much I could recall, beyond the rush of feelings that was taking hold of me and making me forget everything that wasn't immediately associated with him or me or the wicked and wonderful things that he was doing to me on the front seat of his car. I could hear the sounds that were rising from me as I relished each and every stroke of his fingertip, I could feel myself growing hotter and wetter, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't keep myself from arching into his hand, again and again, until at last my moment arrived, and I knew that I could have easily died from the intensity of my release, and if I had, I would have done so with a big smile on my face.

I wasn't too familiar with the goings-on between a woman and a man, and I wasn't certain whether or not it was normal for me to carryon like I was dying, but that was another one of those things that I couldn't have stopped, even if my life had depended on it. It was kind of embarrassing, to hear myself moaning and groaning and screaming his name loud enough to wake the dead, and I realized that I was prone to a good deal of blasphemy as well, despite the fact that I'd always been a reverent person, but I didn't think about those things then, in the moment. I never thought about it until later, when everything had quieted down, and then I would blush blood red, but only for a minute or so, and then a big smile of fond remembrance would take the place of the flush on my face.

I slowly grew quiet in his arms and raised my face from his neck to smile at him…a smile that slowly faded when I saw the heat of arousal that was strong in his eyes and the way that he was gritting his teeth while he struggled to return my smile. My body was still humming and glowing, and I could easily imagine that my own eyes were soft and sleepy, but I wasn't about to leave him in the state that he was in, not when I knew that I had the ability, and the desire, to make him feel everything that I had.

"I love you, Forrest," I whispered, leaning forward to kiss his neck, gently caressing his scar with my lips, and then, with the tip of my tongue, as I lowered my hand to his lap, boldly stroking him through his trousers, and kissing him when I heard him growl, and then moan. My fingers weren't practiced where freeing a man from the restraint of his britches was concerned, but I was a fast learner, and I made quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping, until the only barrier that remained between my hand and his flesh was the thin cotton of his boxer shorts.

"Hmm…Emma, darlin', I love you too," he said, in a voice was choked by an occasional groan. "But there's no need for you to do this. I'll be just fine, after a spell, and we need to get back on the road, if we're going to reach Eden at a decent hour…aw, Lord help me….."

His words died away, and he drew in a deep breath through teeth that were tightly clenched as I freed him completely and took him into my hand, tightening my palm around him, and working it up and down in a slow stroke, keeping my grip firm, until it reached the summit of his flesh, which I gently caressed, until he growled my name and grasped my bottom tightly in his hands, his hold tensing, then relaxing in rhythm with every embrace of my fist.

"We have all of the time in the world, honey, so sit back and relax," I told him, leaning forward to take hold of his lips with mine, my tongue finding the cadence of our hands. "I'm not going anywhere until I know that I have satisfied you as much as you pleasured me and that's all that I have to say about that."

Forrest's POV

Our trip to Eden, North Carolina ought to have taken an hour and a half to complete, but it took us a little over two hours to get there in the end. Most times I made an effort to be punctual and I was known to chew on the hind end of those who didn't endeavor to do the same, but this was one time that I wasn't inclined to gripe about running behind schedule. I just hoped that the old hen who owned the rooming house where Emma and I would be spending the night wouldn't take one look at my sweetheart's disheveled appearance and glowing eyes, or the big, dopey grin that covered most of my face, and guess the reason for why we were tardy.

"What are we doing here, honey?" Emma asked, turning to look at the big house that Mrs. Carter had owned with her husband, the one that she'd turned into an establishment that provided bed and grub for a set price after he had kicked the bucket three years before. "What have you got up hidden up your sleeve?"

My plans for this evening were half-assed, at best, but I was determined to be optimistic about the outcome. There was a small part of me that argued that I was wasting time, that I was rushing things, and that she'd tell me no in the end, but surprisingly enough I was determined to see it through anyway. I'd loused things up in the past by keeping my feelings to myself, and I'd be damned if I was going to do that again.

"Hmm…I know that you're accustomed to batting those pretty brown eyes at me and getting me to do exactly what you want me to, baby girl, but this is one time you're going to have to be patient and let things happen at my speed," I told her, glancing around, to make sure that we weren't being watched, before I reached out my hand to pat her on her backside. "I've got this all worked out, up to a point, that is, and you're just going to have to trust me, alright?"

She didn't bother to look around first, but she did reach out to put her hand on my hind end, and she didn't make do with simply patting me either. She squeezed me instead, and I blushed, like an adolescent boy, and was thankful that it was too dark for anyone, including Emma, to see my flaming face.

"Of course I trust you," she said, slipping the hand that had just pinched my backside into the crook of my arm. "I'm just excited, that's all."

Hearing the word excited made me remember what had happened in the car, and the blush on my face grew worse, and was undoubtedly making my face glow like a light bulb when we made our way inside, which was bad enough, considering that Emma and the landlady, Mrs. Carter, were witnessing my embarrassment, but there was also a group of people in the lobby, a flock of gray-haired old ladies, who were clucking and cackling when we came through the door, a racket that died in an instant the moment they saw us.

"Oh, there you are, Mr. Bondurant," Mrs. Carter said from her spot behind the counter that held her record book and framed pictures of her late husband, E.B. I had heard all about him on my last visit, the one that I'd made to make arrangements for this night. He'd been quite a character, if his wife's stories were to be believed, but she'd obviously adored him, hence the pictures…and the fancy vase filled with water, where she kept the old geezer's false teeth. "I was starting to think that you might not make it, but here you are just the same, with Mrs. Bondurant, and she's just as lovely as you promised, isn't she, girls?"

I didn't dare look at Emma, to gauge her reaction to the news that I'd told Mrs. Carter that she was my wife, but it had seemed like the best thing for me to do at the time. The landlady was a friendly woman, but I knew a gossip when I saw one, and I'd known in an instant that Mrs. Carter and her 'girls' were undoubtedly the biggest chinwags 'round these parts, and I wasn't about to have them telling tales to whoever would listen about my Emma.

In the end my girl went along with the ruse, chatting and making a fuss over all of the hens, Mrs. Carter included, while I signed the register and collected the key to our room. It took me a few minutes to grab her away from them, but I had plans for this night, and they didn't involve spending our time in the company of a bunch of gossipy old women…whose whispers and giggles followed me and Emma as we made our way up the stairs to our room.

I wasn't certain what we would find waiting for us, I knew that things would be nice and tidy, but I had visions of flowers and frilly things filling my head, and I was glad to see that the only posies to be found were sitting on top of the bureau, in one of those fancy vases like the one that E.B. Carter's teeth were having their eternal rest in. The bed was bigger than the one that we shared back home, and brought to mind all sorts of wickedness, especially since Emma insisted on jumping on it as soon as the door closed behind us.

The noise of the women downstairs had died down some as we moved away from them, but the sound of the bedsprings squeaking as Emma bounced up and down on the mattress killed them altogether, and I had a horrible vision of them tiptoeing up the stairs to press their ears against the door. Maybe this place hadn't been the best for what I had in mind after all, but I damn sure wasn't about to leave without doing what I'd come to do.

"Well, don't just stand there with that suitcase in your hands, Forrest Bondurant," she said cheekily, sitting halfway up on the bed and placing her hands against the bedspread while she gave me a look that was downright seductive in nature. "This bed is nice and comfortable and your wife wants you to lie down and enjoy its possibilities with her."

Aw, hell, there was nothing that I would have liked more than to do just that, but I couldn't let her distract me, not until I said what I'd been practicing and planning for the past week. "I figured that we'd have less problems, less gossip being spread, if I told her that you were my wife," I explained, bending to place the suitcase on the floor. "Though I suppose I ought to have realized that a bunch of old hens were bound to find something to cackle about, isn't that right?"

She laughed and sat up all the way, then slid to the edge of the bed. "I think that they're all just a little bit smitten with you is all," she said, patting the mattress beside her. "I'll wager that it's been awhile since they've had a handsome man in their midst, and I reckon you set their hearts to pounding by smiling at them. Chances are that they'll be thinking of that tonight and be jealous of me….."

"Aw, hush," I said, moving toward the bed. I was embarrassed by the notion that a bunch of women who were all old enough to be a granny to me were thinking of me in any way that might be called fond or appreciative, though I could bear it easily enough, I suppose, if it meant hearing that Emma thought that I was handsome. "They might as well save their time and efforts, because my heart belongs to someone else."

It was now or never, the moment was right, all I had to do was remember what I'd practiced. I bent to kiss her, tasting her until she was breathing harder and leaning toward me, and then I knelt down on the floor and took her hands in mine. I stared into her eyes and stroked my thumbs across the silken softness of her skin…and completely forgot what it was that I'd meant to say to her.

I shouldn't have been surprised, I suppose. My mind and mouth were always failing me when I needed them, but did they really have to do that now, when I needed their cooperation the most? "Hmm…I've never been all that good at telling people how I feel," I said quietly, my mind racing to find the script that I'd planned, but it seemed that I'd have to do things off of the cuff, whether I wanted to or not. "If I'd been more open with you then things would have gone a lot differently, for both of us, but it doesn't do any good to dwell on the past, does it?"

She reached out her hand and stroked my cheek, then traced her thumb across my mouth. "We all have our regrets, Forrest, but it's best to think about what's happening right now, and what you want in the future, instead of living in the past. And you might have been quiet about your feelings at one time, honey, but you've gotten good at telling me about how you feel now, haven't you?"

I smiled at her and leaned my face against her hand, relishing the caress, while I slipped my hand into the pocket of my sweater and closed it around the ring that I'd bought for her. I'd done quite a bit of traveling the past week, to make all of the plans for this night, and to find a ring that I thought was fine enough to rest on her finger, and I knew that I had to show it to her now, before I lost all of my nerve.

"It wasn't hard for me to imagine you as my wife, because that's what I've always wanted you to be," I said, taking her left hand in mine and sliding the ring into place on her finger. "I should have told you that years ago, but I'm telling you now that I love you, and what I want to know is, will you marry me, Emma?"

She was quiet for a moment, then I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears and her lip was trembling, and I thought that I'd made a terrible mistake. But then she threw herself forward, off of the bed and into my arms, knocking me flat on my butt while she pressed her lips all over my face and whispered the one word that I'd longed to hear, seconds before she screamed it over and over again…and damned if I didn't hear giggling right outside of the door, from the vicinity of the hall, where I now knew, with all certainty, that a gaggle of lovelorn old ladies were rating my expertise as a lover.

I suddenly remembered something that I needed to do; something that was bound to get a reaction out of Emma that would really and truly set the hens to cackling. I moved her back away from me, and then turned her so that she was laying facedown across my lap, and then I reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress, bringing it up, so that I was one step closer to baring her backside.

"Forrest, what on earth are you doing?" she asked in a voice that was filled with what might have been fear, which I might have heeded, had there not been excitement in her tone as well.

"Hmm…I'm giving you what you asked for, darlin'," I answered, peeling away the layers of cotton and lace that covered her bottom, baring it to my gaze, which was very appreciative of the sight that caused my pecker to knock against the fly of my britches. "I hurt you earlier, and now I'm going to kiss it and make it all better."