Read Online What the Heart Wants by Jeanell Bolton - Free Book Online

me, Laurel. Feel how much I want you.”
    She froze in horror, and all her fine madness fled. She wasn’t Juliet Capulet or Joan of Arc after all. She wasn’t even a sexy heroine from one of Mrs. Bridges’s paperbacks. She was plain, simple Laurel Elizabeth Harlow, the preacher’s daughter, a good girl, and she wasn’t ready for all this. Pulling her hand back, she tried to roll away from him.
    At first he didn’t seem to realize what was going on and grabbed at her hand again.
    â€œNo, Jase! Let me go!”
    â€œI love you, Laurel. I adore you,” he crooned, returning to her breasts and face, but she twisted her head to avoid his lips and willed herself not to respond to his touch.
    Her voice dropped to a soft plea. “Jase, we can’t don’t do this. Please.”
    He closed his eyes for a long second, then released her hands and rolled off her to sit on the edge of the bed. His loud breath rasped in the quiet room as he stared at the far wall. “Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”
    Then, like a naked young Hercules, he strode down the hall toward the bathroom.
    Laurel didn’t need a second invitation. With a wary eye on the door, she pulled her skirt and slip down to cover her naked thighs, scurried about the room to retrieve her panties, bra, and blouse, and dressed faster than she ever had before in her life. Standing on tiptoe, she checked herself out in the small mirror over the bureau next to the door. Her hair was a mess, and her face looked like she had a fever.
    After running her fingers through her hair to smooth it, she pressed her cheeks with her hands to bring down their color. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were dark and hollow, but there was nothing she could do about that. She’d have to sneak in the side door and stay in her room for an hour or so before facing Mama and Daddy.
    There were probably marks on her body too, maybe bruises, but she was the only one who would see them.
    Jase emerged from the bathroom. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button. “You ready?” His voice was gruff and curt.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI have to get some shoes.”
    She backed up as he entered the room, her eyes following his every move as he reached under the bed for his sneakers, but he didn’t even glance at her. She might have been in Ethiopia for all he seemed to care.
    She looked at the room one last time and felt sick to her stomach. It was all so sordid—the tuna tin of cigarette butts, the football posters and lurid pinups, the unmade bed.
    â€œLet’s go,” he said, standing beside the doorway, his face expressionless, the color high in his cheeks.
    She walked slowly toward the doorway, nervous about passing so close to him, then scuttled through it quickly, ready to fight him off at any moment. Outside the weather had turned bright and sunshiny, a beautiful, uncaring morning full of promise and delight. What irony. How could the day be so lovely when, in less than half an hour, her whole life had turned upside down?
    Jase held the passenger door to the pickup open with mock courtesy, and she slid gingerly onto the torn vinyl seat, remaining as close to the door as possible. Walking around to the driver’s side, he lit a defiant cigarette before he got in, and started the engine.
    They rode in silence for a few minutes until he spoke.
    â€œEverything they say about me is true.” He sucked at the cigarette and floated the white smoke out through his mouth and nostrils. “I’ve been doing Ms. Shelton since before Christmas, and I’ll do you too if you give me half a chance. You’ve had your warning. I’m bad news. Stay clear of me from now on.”
    And she had stayed clear of him, which wasn’t hard since he left Bosque Bend within a week.
    When Sarah asked what had happened the next day at church, she’d said Jase had thanked her for