Ecstasy swelled up and through him like an explosion, and he surged one final time, surrendering himself to her without any barriers. Endless pulses of release wracked his body, the rapture piercing and overwhelming. He groaned, low and deep and animal-like, luxuriating in the exquisite awareness of being alive again, of feeling so deeply, so intimately joined with Caitlan. She erased the loneliness and absolute despair he'd been living with for sixteen long years.
Emotionally and physically satiated, J.T. sank to his knees on the cool earth floor, taking Caitlan with him so she straddled his lap and their bodies remained joined. Uncaring of his jeans bunched beneath him and the uncomfortable position, his only thought was that he didn't want to let her go, didn't want the emptiness and coldness that was sure to pour back into him once she left him.
He wondered if he was the one who'd become addicted.
In the quiet aftermath he held her close, reveling in the erratic beating of her heart against his, savoring the way she clung to him, body trembling, face buried in his neck, her breath warm on his damp skin. That damnable medallion had cooled some, but the impression of gold seared his flesh. He soothingly skimmed his hands down her back, over the swell of her hip, then up under her skirt to caress the soft, warm flesh of her inner thighs. He grew hard again, impossibly hard, wanting her with a sudden raw need that should have surprised him but didn't. Not anymore.
Leaving the temptation to touch her where they joined, to start another raging fire with a gentle stroke over her petal-soft folds, he lifted his hands to her hair, tangling the strands between his fingers. Gently, he lifted her head from his shoulder, wanting to reassure himself that she was okay.
The dazed expression on her face he understood; he felt the same way. However, the confusion shimmering in her violet eyes grabbed at him. "Are you okay?" His voice was a hushed whisper in the dark confines of the barn.
Caitlan nodded jerkily, not trusting herself to speak. She was still reeling from the flare of sensations that had burgeoned through her body the moment she'd splintered apart with pleasure. She tried sorting through the multitude of emotions, and the way the medallion had heated against her flesh, the molten fire of it nearly making her breathless.
And then she'd been drawn into J.T., physically and emotionally, sapped of every living force she possessed. The connection to him had been powerful, an undeniable pull. In the distance a wisp of a promise had beckoned to her, luring her closer and closer, until she'd been swept into the vortex, her heart blending with J.T.'s, her soul meshing with his in a complete oneness.
She wanted to explore what had happened, but the crazy things J.T. was doing to her body, the lazy, arousing slide of his hands down her back, under her skirt, cupping her breast, prevented coherent thought. She ignored the uncomfortable bite of the dirt floor digging into her knees, and the cold night air caressing her bare flesh, in favor of J.T.'s warm, reviving touch.
"I want you again, Caitlan," he said, his mouth open and hot and wet against her throat. Pulling her hips closer, he buried the thick, hard length of him deeper inside her. It occured to him then that she deserved better than to be taken in a barn, with the smell of horses, hay, and tack filling the air. "Come to my bed with me."
"Yes," she sighed. Letting her mind drift, the increasing tingling heat from the medallion began to spread throughout her body and downward, where they melded together. Curling her fingers into his shoulders, she clamped her thighs tightly against his hips.
"Ah, hell," he growled against her neck, rocking her urgently against him. "I don't think I can wait that long."
Neither did she. Basking in his caresses, her body hummed. A delicious pressure blossomed in her belly, electrifying her, causing her to move on J.T. in a shameless rhythm. He watched her, his eyes growing dark with desire, his hands on her strong and sure as they cupped her hips. Softer sensations wove through her, a longing to blend her heart with J.T.'s. Those strange sensations sizzled along her nerves again, and she closed her eyes, trying to grasp an elusive something teasing the edges of her mind.
Then it came. The name filtered through her mind, then slipped naturally from her lips, without thought or conscious provocation. "Johnny," she murmured softly.
J.T. stiffened, his blood turning to ice in his veins. A bucket of cold water couldn't have been more effective in dousing his arousal. Caitlan blinked her eyes open, looking just as surprised by the name she'd spoken.
"What did you say?" he said very calmly, wanting to believe he'd only misheard her. But he knew in his gut she'd called him by a name he'd hadn't heard for sixteen years. Since the night Amanda died.
Her gaze turned wary, snuffing out the desire. "Johnny," she repeated cautiously, as if she knew she'd said something wrong but wasn't quite sure what the ramifications were.
A sensation of being suffocated cloaked J.T. He had to get away from Caitlan, who'd suddenly, alarmingly, reminded him too much of Amanda. Those violet eyes of hers seem to lure him in, mesmerizing him, taunting him. A heavy pressure clamped around his chest, anxiety mixing with panic.
He shook his head, trying to keep his composure intact. Damn, between that medallion that always heated up whenever he touched it, and now with Caitlan calling him Johnny when he hadn't even told her his full name, he was beginning to feel like he was living in the Twilight Zone, lost between the past and the present. Ever since she'd come to the Circle R-hell, ever since she'd saved him-weird, unexplainable things had been happening between them.
Irritated by incidents he didn't understand, needing to put distance between himself and Caitlan, he lifted her from his lap. As soon as her body left his, a black, chilling emptiness consumed his soul.
She straightened up on shaky legs and smoothed her hand down her skirt, but that one act of modesty did nothing to reform the tousled, thoroughly loved woman who had been in his arms only minutes before. She still looked entirely too tempting, with her breasts still bared, and he kept from reaching for her again by thinking about what she'd called him.
Standing, he hitched up his jeans and zipped his fly, then started on the buttons on his shirt. She turned away from him and began straightening her own clothes. After everything they'd just shared the vulnerability in her movements slammed into him like a fist. Tender, forgiving emotions crept up on him, but he shoved them aside for more pressing matters.
"Why did you call me that?" he asked, his unexpectedly harsh tone shattering the silence.
Caitlan closed her eyes for a moment, trying to chase away the confusion swirling in her mind. And then there was this rejection she wasn't prepared to deal with, and the ripping pain in her soul it had caused. Opening her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I don't know why. It just slipped out."
He jammed his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing. "How the hell did you even know my name?"
The question startled her, and she grasped for the most logical answer. "I heard one of the hands call you John."
He let out a grunt of disbelief. "The hands nevercall me John, Caitlan. Most of them don't even know what J.T. stands for. And nobody calls me Johnny," he said fiercely. "Nobody."
Nobody but Amanda, Caitlan thought, recalling her visions and the nickname Amanda called J.T. But why had she called him Johnny?
"Here," he said, bringing her out of her thoughts.
She reached for the panties dangling from the tips of his fingers. Face heating at the remembered intimacy and her uninhibited response to him, she quickly pulled them on.