by Cari Quinn
“Uh-uh. No riding.” Playfully, she pushed at his chest and dangled her lantern above her head so she could see the surprise flitting across his face. “We’d be picking hay out of our asses for weeks.”
“Now there’s a picture,” he muttered. “See why I like beds?”
Nerves flared deep in her belly but she ignored them. She wasn’t timid by nature. Long ago she’d banished fear to the basement of her life. If something made her nervous, she faced it head-on. Hell, look at Cory. He scared her shitless and she’d fallen—
No. This was sex. Dirty, inventive sex that would burn any memories of any other woman but her from his brain. Maybe she’d even burn herself out on him eventually, if she applied herself to the task. She’d always been good at studying hard.
“You’ll also like this,” she murmured, reaching for the hem of her dress and pulling it up and over her head before her anxiety had time to rear its warty head.
There was no reason to be afraid of Cory. He would never hurt her, not physically. And maybe he’d help her to forget that this was just pretend, and the family she’d spent the evening with would never be anything but on loan. Her own family would most likely never be in one place again, not with the way they were scattered around the country. Each of them alone in their own special kind of hell.
But not her. Not tonight. Tonight she would feel everything she could. She’d fill herself with experiences and sensations she could take out and examine after he’d gone.
After they were done.
When she stood before him in just her bra and lacy thigh-high hose, she stepped back until her spine hit one of the support columns that extended to the exposed beams of the ceiling. She wrapped her fingers around the wood above her head, stretching herself up like his very own unwrapped gift. Then she spread her legs and invitingly rocked her hips.
His gaze drifted from her face to her breasts, her nipples as hard as little stones, to her belly button with its tinkling silver bells, to the damp area between her thighs. His attention was as hot as a caress, as silky as a swatch of ribbon over her eyes.
She already felt bound, and he hadn’t lifted a finger. Only his chest rose and fell, betraying the extent of his desire. And his cock pressed against his trousers, a silent sentinel of his needs. Her needs.
Time to test the boundaries of both.
“Wanna tie me up?” She arched onto her toes, savoring every sharp hiss of breath he released. “Now’s your chance. Going once…going twice…”
Chapter Nine
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Cory grated.
Victoria’s golden hair tumbled across one eye, making her look like an ingenue. And her body… God, it was a work of art. Honed like her agile mind. She never stopped pushing herself to the limits.
Now she was pushing him.
“So teach me.” Vicky drew her toes up the inside of her opposite leg, looking more like a ballet dancer than an interior designer. “You accused me of being afraid before. Yet you’re the one not moving. Who’s scared now?”
She asked it almost lazily, but her eyes stayed steady on his. Measuring. Gauging. Looking for the chip in his armor that would allow her to burrow so deep inside him he’d never get her out again.
He moved quickly, striding forward and gripping her throat. She startled at that, her pupils going wide as he scraped his fingers along her chilly, vulnerable skin. As pale as snow, as soft as a dream. He bent to sip from her lips, drawing gently while his thumb circled her fluttering pulse.
Her gaze never left his as he cupped her cheek and traced the fringe of her eyelashes, the slope of her nose, the line of her jaw. “Grip the pole above your head.”
When she’d done as he asked, he took her mouth again, his lips scarcely whispering over hers. Her breath puffed out in frosty wisps as he trailed kisses down her chin and throat, exploring every nuance of her skin. The lantern light played over her curves, giving them a rosy glow. She looked like a living wet dream and he intended to take his time exploring her from head to toe.
Deliberately, he didn’t speak. This wasn’t about words, and she didn’t seem to need them. With a flick of his fingers, he opened her bra. She watched him as he mapped her body ruthlessly, with the patience of a landscape artist who could spend hours on one section of sky. Each freckle intrigued him. Each muscle that bunched under his seeking mouth earned special attention.
He nuzzled the dip between her neck and shoulder, slipped his tongue under the silver starfish necklace that skimmed her collarbone. She remained absolutely still, her excitement beating against his lips whenever he licked her tripping pulse.
She was tight all over, but especially the vibrant pink tips of her breasts and the knot of nerves between her thighs. His thumb stroked her there, hard and fast, while he lapped at her nipple as delicately as if she were made of glass. When she relaxed, he nipped her flesh and plunged two fingers deep.
Her first shocked gasp echoed in the drafty barn. Soon there were so many that he rose to capture her moans with his mouth while he stroked in and out of her wet sex. He drove her right up to the edge, savoring her moans and quivers, then he slipped his fingers free. She stared as he freed his cock and slicked his length in her arousal. Her fingers twitched on the pole as he moved his hand up and down, coating his flesh. Soaking himself with her.
The sight seemed to hold her transfixed, and she didn’t look away when he hauled her legs around his waist. “Watch me,” he murmured.
She could only nod.
From her reactions he guessed what she needed and he gave it to her, penetrating her in one sure thrust. Her lips parted though she made no sound. He exhaled as her snug, drenched sheath enveloped his dick again and again, the scrape of her nails against the wood a strangely exciting accompaniment. Her nails could’ve been on his shoulders, on his back, for all the effect that noise had on his body. He drove into her harder, faster, wanting to hear her torturing the wood, that unconscious tell more revealing than her glazed whiskey-colored eyes.
There, she still held some control. But with her hands, with the ripples of her sex around him, she restrained nothing.
That was what he wanted. Her, totally mindless. Unafraid. His.
He drew her up until her back bowed and a broken cry ripped from her throat. His balls tightened and his own heart went into triple time. He ached for her to let go of her restraint, to know he was the only man who could take her there.
His thumb found her clit again and he sank his teeth into the top of her breast as she clenched and gave way, her shudders and moans more arousing to him than anything he’d ever experienced. She was so strong, so tough, and she yielded to him so beautifully. Words nearly left him, the kind he’d never let himself feel, never mind say.
He sucked on her skin and jerked her up and down his cock, exploiting his pleasure and prolonging hers. She cried out again, whipping her head back and forth. And in the wildness in her eyes, he saw his own. He saw himself and the fight he’d been waging for so long. He couldn’t fight anymore.
His hips bucked and he spilled himself inside her, heaving and surging into her until he was dry and she was shaking against him. Around him. Until they were both shuddering and gasping.
Here, they were distilled to the essence of who they were and what they needed from each other. She’d trusted him that much. He couldn’t breathe through the wonder of what that meant.
When she slumped in his arms, he tucked his face in her mass of fragrant curls. She smelled like the early fall night, fresh and pure.
Her laughter rumbled through her chest. “No one’s ever called me that before.”
He lifted his head, shocked he’d spoken. “Did I really just say the word ‘pure’ out loud?”
With a few blinks, her smoky eyes were clear again and full of amusement. “Yes, you really did.”
“I didn’t mean that—what I meant was—” Ah, to hell with it. An answering laugh rose in him before he could stop it. Then
he glanced up at her pale fingers, still wrapped sinuously around the wooden pole. “Put your hands on me.” His voice came out more rough than he’d intended.
“Aww, feeling neglected already?” She drew her wicked nails along the back of his neck and rocked against him, squeezing him where he was still lodged deep. “We can fix that.”
“Next time,” he kissed her hard, “you better save those scratches for me.”
Only when she smiled did he realize what he’d said. Next time.
Impishly, she fluttered her lashes. “How do you feel about this time, part two?”
With one flex, he was buried to the hilt again. “Bring it.”
…
After another round of vigorous post sex, an impromptu tickle-fight, and a walk through the pasture, they finally made it back to the house. They crept in the back door like guilty children, but as soon as they turned around and saw the three stern faces staring back at them from the table, Vicky swiftly realized they shouldn’t have bothered.
“We wondered where you two had disappeared to.” Corinne pushed two mugs of hot cider across the table. “Your drinks are getting cold.”
Vicky tugged uncomfortably at her dress. “Oh, we were just out talking—”
“We went for a walk—”
“You don’t need to continue this ruse any longer.” Corinne folded her hands and looked at the table. “We know you’re not really dating.”
Vicky tossed a frantic glance at Cory, whose attention rested squarely on his parents. “Says who?” When they didn’t respond, Cory’s focus shifted to Dillon. “Oh, I get it. Your golden boy has decided I’m lying. Why are you so curious about my love life, Dill? Do you want me out of the company or what?”
“Get a grip, man. You know this isn’t about that. We care about what happens to you. Jesus, I’m not at the damn hospital with my girlfriend right now because I thought this was more important—”
“Hospital?” Vicky and Cory echoed in unison.
“Nellie was having contractions,” Corinne supplied. “Most likely only Braxton-Hicks since she’s only in her sixth month, but they’re new parents and understandably nervous. Plus Nellie had gas. She called it pelvic pressure, but I’m almost certain she’s been reading too many baby guides.”
“She went to the hospital for gas?” Cory asked, clearly perplexed.
“And contractions,” Dillon put in. “Better to be safe, right?”
Corinne nodded. “Alexa and Jake went with her and the rest of the guests decided to go. We waited for you, thinking you wouldn’t be long—”
“Where did you go? Back to the office?” Raymond put in.
“Or were you huddling in the barn, hoping everyone would leave so you wouldn’t have to keep up your pathetic acting jobs all night?” Dillon added.
Cory’s lips thinned into a flat line. “Do you want to know why we were gone so long? Do you really want to know?”
Vicky didn’t know if they wanted to know, but she could say with one hundred percent certainty she didn’t want them to. She laid a hand on Cory’s arm and frowned at the tension flowing through his pores. A little while ago, they’d both been as relaxed as could be. Now he seemed ready to chew nails.
“Baby, take it easy.” She used the endearment for Cory’s benefit, not theirs. She hated seeing him so angry. “We’ll just sit down and talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. They’re accusing me of lying, when they haven’t the foggiest clue of what’s going on.”
“Sweetheart, if we’re wrong, just—”
Cory ignored his mother and glanced at Vicky, his eyes firing with an unholy gleam that made her take a step back. “Come here.”
Self-preservation kicked in, hard. “No.”
He stepped closer to her and yanked back her collar. She didn’t know what her neck looked like, but judging from the collective gasp that rose up from the table, she guessed it wasn’t pretty. Hickeys and stubble burn, the duo of champions. She immediately smacked his hand away, though she knew it was too late.
She bit her lip, sure she was flushing—and not from being found out. From the memory of his lips on her skin.
That was it. He was never putting marks on her again. Of any sort.
Okay, she didn’t need to be hasty. No marks of any sort unless she knew they were going to be alone until they faded.
So…never.
“That is what we were doing.” There was no mistaking the male pride in Cory’s voice. Anytime now he’d probably start strutting across the kitchen like a peacock. Or just a cock, period. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Big deal,” Dillon muttered. “You could’ve rubbed your coat sleeve all over her neck for all we know. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Yeah, because I just let him do whatever he wants to me.” As soon as the words were out, she cast a sideways glance at Cory. Well, hmm, yeah.
Cory grabbed her left hand and held it up like a trophy in a prizefight. “And that’s not all.”
She stared at him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t—
“We’re together and madly in love.” Her breath left her in a whoosh. “Believe that or not —” his gaze locked on Vicky for so long that even she started to fall under his spell “—but the truth stands regardless.”
Which truth? she wondered as her confusion and anger fought for dominance. His or hers? Because she had a feeling they were not the same.
Conversation slowly resumed, mostly about Nellie and if it was too soon to call Lex to see how she was. Throughout, Vicky focused on two simple things—inhaling and exhaling.
Three little words shouldn’t break her. Taken apart they didn’t even go together. Madly. Yes, she could see being mad, minus the ly. In. Well, you could be in anything. And love applied to everything from ice cream to puppies.
See, completely innocuous.
Somehow she got through the next few minutes without losing it. Eventually her resentment and shock retreated into acceptance. He’d reacted impulsively, but not out of maliciousness. They were pretending to be a committed couple. Love was often part of that. Just because she’d never ridden that particular bus didn’t mean she wasn’t familiar with the stops.
Still, had it really been necessary for him to be quite so…convincing? If the statement itself wasn’t bad enough, his hot, flay-off-her-panties look had dealt her a mortal blow.
He kept glancing at her, and in his eyes she could read his concern. He was no dummy. He had to know he’d crossed the line. Even so, unless she wanted to brand him a liar—and she was sorely tempted—she needed to tap-dance to his tune.
At least until he explained himself and how he intended to make this right.
And maybe bribed her with something significant. Multiple orgasms to start.
“Victoria wants a formal tour of the house,” he said after interminable minutes of chitchat that made her feel like ants marched up her spine.
Once they’d slipped away, Vicky let him lead her down the hall, though she didn’t speak when he turned toward her and gripped her shoulders. “I know you’re not happy. Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”
She tightened her hold on her mug of cider. So far she’d managed all of two sips, while he’d thrown back the whole thing in one gulp. “Oh, really.”
“Yes. This was just a stopgap measure.”
“Right. Sure. Because you can just wave a hand and suddenly we aren’t ready to pose under arbors while we gaze at each other dopily anymore.”
“It’s only for a few weeks. You know this whole thing is just temporary. Come on, Victoria. Work with me here.“
Her vision blurred and she turned away before he could see her furious blinking. His proclamation had only driven home her part in the situation. He might’ve been the one to lay it on thick, but she’d gone along with all of it. Willingly. She was every bit as guilty as he was. “Temporary lies are still lies, Cory.”
He didn’t respond for so long that she began to th
ink he’d left the room. But when she glanced back at him, he was staring at her as if she genuinely mattered to him. Maybe he was just feeling charitable from the time they’d spent in the barn. Or perhaps the Grinch of Value Hardware’s heart really had grown from two sizes too small.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vic.” He stepped forward and smudged his thumb over her cheek. When it came back wet, she shut her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t help her desire to forgive him any more than she could berate herself for getting herself in this mess to begin with. She wanted to be right where she was. At his side, for better or worse. However long it lasted.
Crush, Vic? Just lust? You honestly think this is what this is about?
She forced herself to look at him. In for a penny, in for a damn ton, right? He still needed her help, and she’d committed herself to this insane plan. She wouldn’t back out now. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” After all, she knew firsthand that no relationship was permanent.
His shoulders visibly slumped with relief as he gathered her hands in his and lifted them to his mouth. “Yes, we will. Thank you.” He gave her a fleeting smile while she reeled from his latest verbal surprise. Thank you? Those two words rarely passed his lips. “If you want to see the house now…”
The tour, if it could be called that, lasted under ten minutes. As much as she adored the huge, open floor plan and each of the homey rooms—she had to do a lot of imagining about how they’d once been decorated, since most of the house was in stages of packing—she concentrated more on avoiding making eye contact with Cory than looking around. She just couldn’t take a chance on him seeing more on her face than she intended. He was incredibly perceptive when he wasn’t in denial, and she definitely didn’t have her shields in place.
“And this is my old room.” He splayed his hand wide on the door. “It’s a guest room now, but there was some stuff Mom didn’t want to part with.”
“She’ll have to soon.” Half-filled boxes lined one wall, but not too much had been done in there yet. She glanced from the bulletin board filled with ticket stubs and yellowed pictures to the glow-in-the-dark galaxy on the ceiling. Her lips curved as she pictured Cory lying in bed studying the blue-and-green planets when other guys were checking out Cindy Crawford. He was such a lovable nerd—or he could be, if he didn’t keep finding ways to put up blockades between them whenever they made progress.
