Her breath came out in white puffs of smoke as she made her way to his truck and climbed in. She reached the first gate before any heated air touched her. She climbed out, opened the gate, drove through, climbed out, closed the gate and then climbed back in and headed for the next one.
The field, which had looked so level from the house, produced body jar after body jar as the truck rolled over never-ending dips and swells in the dirt. By the time she got to the second gate, her teeth hurt from banging them together. She repeated her actions from gate one as she went through the second and then the third gate. She drove up to the four-wheeler and climbed out. The wind’s icy teeth tugged her scarf off her face and bit at her nose.
“Reno?” she called. “You here?”
When there was no reply, she began walking toward the water. As she topped the knoll, she gasped. Her heart leapt into her throat. Reno lay at the edge of the pond, the tips of his boots through the ice and into the water. A light layer of snow covered his back and jeans.
“Reno!” She hurried toward him, slipping and sliding in the frozen grass. It was only after she dropped to her knees beside him that she could see the shivers racking his body.
“Magda.” The voice was weak and barely audible.
She pulled off her heavy coat, fully aware it wouldn’t come close to fitting him, but it had her warmth and it couldn’t hurt. “Here. Put this around you,” she said, draping her too-small coat on him.
“Get me home,” he said through chattering teeth.
She grasped his forearm, trying to help him to his feet, and both of them slid toward the water. Once he was on his feet, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and grasped his hand. Then she wrapped her other arm about his waist and they started back to the truck.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was weak and breathy.
“You should have been home by now.”
“Checking up on me?” he asked and then coughed when he tried to laugh.
“Not funny. You gave me a heart attack when I saw you on the ground. What happened?”
“Ice broke. Fell in.”
The conversation was taxing what strength he had, so she limited her questions to one more.
“What about the four-wheeler?”
“Leave it,” he said. “Get it tomorrow.”
She doubted that.
“You’re driving my truck?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.”
He chuckled and then coughed again. “I get to ride your Fat Boy then.”
“We’ll see. Now get in. It should be warm inside by now.”
The heater was now, thankfully, producing warm air, so she turned it up to high. Beside her, Reno shook, obviously in pain from the cold.
“How long have you been lying there?”
“Don’t know. Maybe five minutes. Maybe more.” He turned to look at her. “How did you find me?”
“Binoculars.”
“Ah. Good. Thank you.”
She smiled. “Good jobs are hard to find. If I let my boss die, who’d hire me after that?”
That made him grin.
She made him stay in the truck as she went through the unlocking and locking of gates. As she told him, she’d done it to get to him. She could do it to get home.
There was no hot water for a bath. Only lukewarm coffee from her afternoon break. But Reno shoved his fingers into the coffee and sighed.
“I’ll get some water started heating. In the meantime, you have to get out of those wet clothes,” she said, pointing to the living room. “Go get undressed by the fire. Our blankets are still there so they’ll be warm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It looked painful when he stretched his mouth into a smile. “But don’t peek. You know how bashful I am.”
“Go,” she shouted and jabbed her finger toward the living room again. “Now, before I take them off you myself. The last thing we need is for you to get sick.”
“In a minute.” He drained the tepid coffee, sloshing a lot of it out of the cup and down his shirt. “That may be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
Dirty water pooled on the kitchen floor around his muddy boots. The ice on his ski cap had melted in the truck and the blue wool sat heavily on his head.
“Tell you what. You go get out of those clothes and I’ll make some fresh coffee. I’m grabbing some snow. I’ll be right back.”
She’d identified some places where the snow would be cleaner than others, so she headed there and filled a large iron pot. Back in the house, she carried the pot to the living room, hung it on the pot crane she’d discovered and swung the crane back into the fireplace and the pot over the flames.
“Where’d you find that?” Reno asked from the doorway.
She turned. “You have a cellar. Did you know that?”
“Sure. Lots of old junk and stuff down there.”
“Well, I got bored one day and explored. Found this pot crane down there. Didn’t you wonder why this latch was in the fireplace?”
“Nope.”
“Men. No curiosity and stubborn as hell. You are going to catch the death of you in that wet stuff. You strip and I’ll go to your room for something to wear.” Since she’d been doing his laundry, she knew where everything was.
“You just want to see me naked.”
“Reno,” she warned. “You’re trying my patience.”
Before her foot hit the step, he stopped her. “I’m sorry, Magda. But I need some help.”
She turned around to blast him and then took off in a run. He’d started shaking so hard she thought he might fall. He stumbled to the couch and fell on it.
“Damn it. I told you that you needed to get out of these wet things.” She removed one filthy boot and then the other, promising that if he didn’t die from hypothermia tonight, she was going to kill him for tracking mud all over her clean floors.
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to sitting. One nice thing about snap shirts was easy access. Jerking it open, she found he also wore two undershirts, both soaked and adhered to his flesh.
“Lift your arms.” When he did, she pulled all three shirts off him. His skin looked bloodless. It was white and cold enough to be a piece of frozen cod. But—and she shouldn’t have noticed this—even pale as the snow outside, the muscles and sinew of his chest were totally lickable and, heaven help her, she so wanted to do just that. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and collected a blanket from the mattress and wrapped it around him.
“Your jeans. Can you do them?”
“I’ll try.”
He worked at the button but his fingers would barely bend.
“Stop.” She pushed his hands away. A flick and a zip and his jeans were open. “Can you stand?”
Wobbly, but he stood. Together, they pushed the heavy, thick denim down his legs. She tried not to look at all those muscles and tendons as they shifted and popped with his movements. And his cock. It took every ounce of willpower not to let her gaze drift there, but damn if her eyes didn’t have their own agenda. It was almost impossible not to notice the bulge in his white briefs.
As he stepped out of the jeans pooled on the floor, he said, “Cold water. Shrinkage.”
“What?” Her frown wrinkled in confusion and then she shook her head. The damn man was almost dead from falling in a frozen pond and he wanted her to know that his dick might be small because of the cold. “Good Lord, Reno.” She tapped his head. “Think with this head for a while and not the other one.”
He pulled the blanket snuggly around himself. “I wanted to make sure you knew.”
She rolled her eyes. “I remember. Get closer to the fire. The water should be getting pretty warm by now. I’ll be right back. Get your underwear off while I’m gone.”
“I might need help with it too.”
When she paused and turned back out of concern, he gave her a grin. “Just kidding.”
She smiled and relaxed for the first time since she’d found him lying on the ground. “Now that you’re feeling better, I’ll kick your ass if you keep that up.”
“I told you,” he said. “Cold weather causes shrinkage.”
“Hmm. I thought you meant your dick, but now I realize you mean your brain.”
He chuckled, which made him cough again. She headed upstairs to his room, a cheek-hurting grin on her face. She brought back a couple of pairs of socks, a flannel pair of tie pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved thermal Henley. He was still enveloped in the thick blanket when she came back down.
“Here,” she said, handing him clothes. “I’ll hang your wet stuff in the bathroom, but it’ll probably freeze before it dries.”
“What?” he asked, flipping through the clothes. “No underwear?”
“Nope. Be right back.”
She brought chili back when she came. “Eat,” she said, passing him a bowl.
They ate in silence, but every once in a while, a shiver ran through Reno.
“Magda.”
She looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“For this chili? Heck, Reno, it’s the third time we’ve eaten it.” She took his empty bowl and started to stand to return them to the kitchen. He caught her by her wrist.
“No, not the chili, and you know it. For today. For worrying about me. For coming to look for me.”
His gaze was solemn, his expression serious. His blue eyes held steady on her face.
“Like I told you, good jobs are hard to find.” She tried to keep up the joking, but inside, the impulse to flee clawed at her.
“Don’t,” he said. “You’re running away again. Sure, it’s only to the kitchen this time, but I know that look. You’re terrified.”
“Why would I be terrified?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Damn him. He’d always been able to read her.
He took the bowls and set them on the floor. Then he caught her face in his hands and leaned in.
She knew what was coming. She tried to prepare herself.
He kissed her.
Nothing could have prepared her. And nothing could stop her leaning toward him, toward his mouth, toward his touch.
Chapter Twelve
Her mouth was soft, her lips full and welcoming. Reno moved closer on the sofa, his motions slow as though approaching a wild mare. He waited for her to shove him away or bop the back of his head. When she did neither, he trailed his lips across her cheek, kissed his way along her jaw and then nibbled down her neck. She rocked her head to the side, giving him better access to the thick tendon running beside her throat. He ran his tongue along it, enjoying the rapid pulse he found there. He moved his mouth down to the top of her shirt in slow kisses and then nibbled his way back up.
She sighed, and when he thought she might be getting ready to tell him to stop, he caught her mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue gained easy access and he slipped it between her parted lips. Her tongue met his, stroke for stroke in a dueling twist.
Wanting more, needing to touch her, he glided his hands down to her shoulders and then lower to caress her breasts through her shirt. Full, round and heavy, they filled the palms of his hands. The weight was perfect. The shape was perfect. There was nothing about this woman that wasn’t perfect.
He gave her flesh a final tight squeeze and then relocated his hands to the hem of her shirt and edged his fingers under the material. When his fingertips touched her hot flesh, a volley of cannons exploded in his gut.
“Magda,” he said in a long moan. “Magda.”
She stroked his cheeks, his afternoon beard raking across her skin. Her nails scratched his head when she ran her fingers through his hair. When she ran the tip of her tongue around the rim of his ear, a torrent of shivers shot through him. Then she bit and licked down his neck and back up to his mouth. She pressed her lips to his, angled her head and took the kiss into a deep, wet exploration of his mouth. His body pumped gallons of his blood to his groin, hardening his penis. A ripple ran through him.
“Are you okay?” she said, pulling back. “You’re shaking. Are you still cold?”
He shook his head. “I’m so hot I could start a fire without a match.”
The smile she gave him wasn’t reassuring. “Good.” She leaned farther away. “You know we can’t go on like this.”
“Why not?” He slid off the sofa to the mattress on the floor and pulled her with him, not that she really fought his tug. “I’ve missed you,” he said and then kissed her. “I could go on like this for a very long time.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond, making sure her mouth was filled with his tongue and not her words. The kisses were getting hotter and wetter and longer each time he went back for a taste. He lowered himself to the mattress, and she followed, still wrapped in his arms, still answering his demands for kisses and access to her luscious flesh.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaving a path of kisses down her neck. “So beautiful.” He again wedged his fingers under the hem of her blouse. “I need to touch you, see you, feel you.”
“We had an agreement,” she said, pressing kiss after kiss on his face and his neck. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Wrong. It’s a great idea.”
The palm of his hand lay on her stomach, moving up and down with each breath. He swept his hands upward to capture and massage her breasts. Her nipples were rigid and she moaned when he rolled and then tugged one between his fingers. That was it. He pushed her shirt and her bra up until she was exposed to him.
Magda’s head swam with emotions, her gut whirling with tension and lust. His first kiss had injected such a bolt of longing, she’d almost cried out. She hadn’t been with a man since Reno, not since August. Six months was a long time without sex. However, since her five months with Reno as her lover, she hadn’t desired another man. So, while half a year might sound like a long time, there’d been no one who’d made her burn with desire like Reno Montgomery could.
More than once, she’d dreamt about Reno, awoken to find herself in the throes of a gasping, shaking orgasm.
Even now, a small slice of her mind wondered if she was dreaming. But she wasn’t. This was real. He was here, touching her, sucking on her breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers. A surge of heavy desire rushed through her. Heat and moisture built between her thighs and she pressed them together to soothe the ache there.
She should stop him, stop herself, but even she wasn’t listening to her internal voice. She wanted this. Wanted him.
Finally, she gave in, gliding her hands under his thermal shirt, pushing it up. Reno pulled away from her long enough to jerk the shirt off and toss it on the sofa.
The hair on his chest was silky and at the same time rough as she ran her hands along the contours and ridges of his chest and down his abdomen. She worked her hands in endless circles, the crinkling of hair against her palms shooting more fire to her sex, ramping up the throbbing to new heights.
Ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she licked along one of the ridges between his muscles. Oh Lord. He tasted better than she remembered. Salty and clean at the same time. His skin was cool but not nearly as cold as it had been.
She licked his flat, brown areola and then sucked his nipple. He groaned and wedged a knee between her legs, pushing her thighs apart as he moved his bent leg up toward her center. He applied pressure against her clitoris, moving his knee in a circular fashion as though performing a massage.
Magda pressed down, rotating her hips in conjunction to his movements. Inside, a heady tightness was building, a pressure much like water pushing against a dam. She was so close, so close. She closed her eyes and thrust hard against his steady pressure. She arched. So close. Almost there.<
br />
He stopped. “Not yet.”
“What? What?” She opened her eyes, confused and very frustrated. “Why did you stop?”
“I want to be with you when you fly. I want to soar with you, feel you in my arms as you shatter. I want you to know it’s me that’s bringing you that pleasure. Me. Reno Montgomery. The man who’s waited for you, lusted for you, needed you. A man who craves you still.”
Tears sprang to Magda’s eyes. No one in her entire life had looked at her the way this strong, masculine man was looking at her right now. She nodded.
He pulled her pants and panties down her legs and over her socked feet in one swift jerk. Magda wasn’t ashamed of her body, but she’d never flaunted it either. However, the look of lust etched on Reno’s face, and the darkening of desire in his eyes, made her want to preen.
“Oh, babe,” he said, his tone deep and gravelly. “I thought I remembered how fantastic your body was, but damn if it isn’t better than I remembered.”
He wrapped his hands around her ankles and spread her legs, taking his time looking at her core. She gulped against the hard pounding of her heart. Her sex throbbed with pent-up desire and need. Then he pressed his mouth to the inside of her ankle, the bristles of his whiskers scratched gently on her flesh. She’d only thought her heart had been racing. Now, it shattered into pieces, beating and throbbing in different areas all over her body.
He left her ankle to run his tongue slowly—very slowly—up the inside of her calf. When he tongued the back of her knee, she arched off the mattress with a moan.
“Hmm,” was all he said and then slid his tongue up her thigh closer to her target zone. He stopped short of the mark and she whimpered. She could feel his lips move against her flesh as he smiled in response to her whine.
Just to torture her more, she decided, he moved to her other thigh, kissing her skin, tracing her tattoo with his tongue, nibbling and sucking his way down to her knee and back up. Electricity flashed inside her, jumping from muscle to muscle and bone to bone. Pressure built, tightening her body. Even her toes were flexed and arched. She was pretty sure she was about to explode, to send electrical sparks all over the room.
Texas Bossa Nova (Texas Montgomery Mavericks Book 5) Page 11
