by Rachel Lee
“So we get a dozen tries?” she asked weakly.
Then he laughed. It was a nice laugh, a genuine laugh, and somehow it burst a bubble of tension inside her, one that needed to burst.
He lowered himself to lie beside her. “Haven’t you heard that laughter is one of the top ten reasons that people stop making love?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I think they were talking about another kind of laughter.” He propped himself on one elbow and smiled down at her. “Nothing’s going to stop me except you.”
“I don’t want to stop you.”
“Then laugh whenever you feel like it. This should be a happy time.”
Wow, what a concept, she thought, just before he stole all thought by stroking his hand right down her front, between her breasts and over the exquisitely sensitive nest of hair between her legs. She drew a sharp breath and lifted toward that touch.
“Easy, woman,” he said with gentle humor. “I’m ready to pop my cork.”
“So am I,” she said breathlessly before opening her mouth to him, to the electric sensations his tongue sent running through her, almost as if there was a wire between her mouth and her womanhood.
His hand found her breast, kneading her until she ached, then he teased and twisted her swollen nipple, adding to the sparks that were zapping through her now. She reached up for him, wanting more than anything to give him what he was giving her. She found smooth, warm skin, felt the ripple of the muscles beneath, then at last came across one of his small nipples. It was pebbled, too, and while she had never tried it before, she brushed her palm over it, then squeezed it gently.
The groan that answered her taught her something new. Hector had never wanted such touches. In fact, Hector had wanted to be touched in only one place.
She banished Hector the instant he popped into her thoughts, and instead focused on the feeling of power her new knowledge gave her. With that sense of power came confidence. She could make him feel good, too.
He surprised her by suddenly wrapping his arms around her and rolling them both over. The next thing she knew, she straddled his hips, looking down at him.
“Help yourself,” he said huskily, his heavily lidded gray eyes almost sparkling. Then he reached up and cupped her breasts, sending her to the moon.
She felt his staff between her legs, hard and ready. Immediately, she started to rub herself against him. He groaned but quickly slipped his hands down to still her hips.
“Me, too,” he said. “Me, too. But I want to take at least some time...”
Gently, he lifted her so that she was no longer riding him. The movement forced her forward, and she reached out to steady herself with a hand on his shoulder. That left one hand to explore him with and she took advantage of it, finding out that he was as sensitive as she. He liked it when she stroked his neck, so she leaned down to kiss his throat. A long sigh escaped him, and she felt his hands tighten on her hips. Encouraged, she trailed her mouth lower, trying to give him the sensations he gave her.
When she sucked his nipple into her mouth, a deep moan was torn from him and he arched, giving her a taste of what she craved.
So good, she thought hazily. So good to make him groan. The sound rippled through her in the same exciting way his touches did.
Then his hands slipped around on her hips, and she cried out quietly as his fingers found sensitive flesh from behind, lightly stroking in the most maddening way. She couldn’t have felt more exposed, and the feeling was exquisite, unlike any other touch she had received ever.
His hips held her wide open even as he denied her what she most wanted. The contrast, the near helplessness lit a hot, fast fuse, pushing her higher, pushing her close to the brink.
She retaliated, nipping his nipples and making him twist beneath her. Then she slipped her hand down and closed it around his silky, hard staff. He jerked and swore under his breath.
Suddenly she was on her back again.
“Damn,” he muttered. “You kill my control.”
Exciting warmth zapped through her in response. She killed his control? She liked that and smiled.
“Look pleased with yourself,” he muttered as he scrambled for the bag and pulled out a condom. “You deserve to.”
She watched him roll on the condom, and far from being a distraction, it only kicked her passion into higher gear to see him touch himself that way. Damn, her whole body flamed with hunger now, and each passing second seemed like one second too many between her and satisfaction.
He put a hand between her knees and they parted as if they had a mind of their own. She wanted to feel his weight on her. Even more she wanted to feel that exquisite sensation of him entering her, stretching her. Just the thought of it was driving her crazy.
He knelt between her legs, but didn’t give her what she wanted immediately. Instead he stroked her there, lightly brushing against hairs until her hips rolled and she was ready to scream for something deeper.
Then he parted her petals, and his fingers unerringly found the hardened nub. The sensation was powerful, right between pain and pleasure, in some hinterland that nothing else could simulate.
“Craig...” She groaned his name. “Damn it...”
A short, thick laugh escaped him. Leaning forward, he slipped his hands beneath her hips, lifting her to him.
Then that exquisite, breath-stealing moment when he slid into her, filling her, answering an ache nothing else could answer. Reaching up, she grabbed his shoulders, tugging him down to her.
He propped most of his weight on his elbows and sucked one of her nipples as he drove into her again and again. She grabbed for his hips, urging him to harder strokes. Her hips rolled up to meet his, faster and faster.
Everything in the world vanished except him, his mouth on her breast, his manhood within her. Every muscle and nerve in her body tightened as she rose higher and higher. Sounds escaped her but she hardly heard them.
She was racing through the stars, hurled out to some distant place beyond imagining.
Then everything within her clenched in a spasm so intense it nearly hurt. Moments later she tumbled into satisfaction, her entire body throbbing with pleasure as galaxies exploded behind her eyelids.
He was only a second or two behind her, unleashing a deep groan as he stiffened.
Then he collapsed on her, heavy, hot and welcome.
She hated the instant when he pulled away, but she understood. He wasn’t gone long, and soon he was beside her, throwing his leg over hers, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close and tight.
Hector would have already rolled away and given her his back, ready to sleep. She didn’t want to think about him right now, but the comparison was inevitable.
Craig dropped a kiss on her forehead, then shifted her head to the hollow of his shoulder. He made a nice, if firm, pillow.
“You are something else,” he murmured, running his hand over her hair, then down her shoulder and side. “Something else indeed.”
“So are you,” she confessed.
“Just wait. There’s lots more to explore.”
She smiled into his shoulder, liking the sound of that.
“In fact,” he said, “I’m feeling a little cavemannish right now. Fast and hot is nice, but not for a first time.”
“I kinda liked it myself.”
“Thank goodness.”
She slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed. “I liked every bit. In fact I more than liked it.”
He gave her a squeeze and another kiss. The musky scents of their lovemaking surrounded them, and she felt a trickle of renewed desire.
Yes, she’d more than liked it. She had loved it. For the first time in her life, all that anticipation, need and yearning hadn’t fizzled like wet fireworks. She wondered how she could explain that to him, to let him know how wonderful he was, but words wouldn’t seem to emerge. She just knew that in relatively short order he’d helped her on a journey of self-discovery that was going to lea
ve her changed forever. In a good way.
“I’m afraid to ask, but how long are you going to be here?”
“A month. Maybe more.”
“Aah, that’s not enough time. Maybe more? You can extend your vacation?”
“I work for a mental health and rehabilitation center. My mental health matters, too, so if I need a longer break I can take it.”
“Take it,” he suggested.
God, that warmed her. She tilted her head, trying to see his face, but got a view of his chin.
Maybe that was for the best. Wrapped in this glow, she suspected they weren’t being entirely realistic. They hadn’t known one another that long, an incredible number of things could go wrong. These moments would pass and reality, with all its hard edges, would return.
Besides, he liked his isolated forest. She doubted he would ever want to leave. Her life was more than half a continent away. She had patients she needed to return to. Friends she would miss.
But for now it was just fine with her to live in the spell of the moment. Time enough later to deal with all the hard edges.
“I should feed us,” he remarked. “Make us some coffee. Find something to cover you. Rebuild the fire.”
She listened to the list and didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. She didn’t want him to move away. She didn’t want food, and the cabin was still warm enough.
Lying naked with him, all tangled together, felt incredibly good and she didn’t want to let go of the feeling.
Apparently he didn’t either, because he stirred only to wrap them closer together.
The ceaseless rain continued to hammer on the roof, making Sky feel as if they were ensconced in a cozy cocoon. Having Craig wrapped around her only enhanced that feeling.
“I could get used to this,” she remarked.
“Me, too. Too bad life doesn’t operate that way.”
“Well, sooner or later we’ll have to get up.”
He laughed quietly. “We’d look pretty funny mummified like this.”
She laughed, too, experiencing for the first time in her life being able to laugh with her lover after sex. It added to the glow she was feeling, and she wished she could hang on to these moments forever. Knowing that couldn’t be, she tried to engrave them permanently in her memory, the sound of the rain, the smell of the cabin, the way her skin felt all over, the way he felt against her, his strength.... Oh, she hoped she would never forget even the least detail.
He turned toward her, sprinkling kisses on her shoulder. “And with that, darlin’, I’m going to have to get up. Some things just can’t wait. But don’t run away. I have devilish plans for later.”
She hated to let go of him, and when he rose, she didn’t want to move. He went to his saddlebags in the corner, and pulled out a flannel shirt. With a smile, he spread it over her. “I hated to do that, but you may not have noticed it’s getting chilly in here.”
It was, and he was right, she hadn’t noticed until he’d removed his heat from beside her. That man was practically a furnace.
He tossed some more wood into the stove, then, much to her dismay, began to dress. “Dusty,” he said. “I didn’t give him much of a chance to stretch earlier, and by now he’s probably run around the corral enough to have six inches of mud on each hoof.”
The things she didn’t think of. Sitting up, clutching the shirt around her for warmth, she watched him finish dressing, then head outside as he pulled on his slicker.
She realized she needed to do something, too. The idea of lazing all evening was an attractive one, but not one suited to her. Even when she was holding still, she needed to accomplish something, usually painting, sometimes reading.
She dressed, opened her art case and pulled out a sketch pad and some charcoal. She might not be able to paint in this light, but she could draw.
Almost before she knew it, she was sketching Dusty and Craig as they had appeared the first time she saw them. Quick lines created the shapes and the feeling of movement. She propped the pad up and stepped away from it, debating whether to add shadows and more detail, or leave it minimalist.
Right now it looked like a quick Picasso sketch, though of course she would not put herself in that kind of class. Picasso had a magic she could only wish for.
She decided to go for more detail. Why not? She had time and it would occupy her far better than sitting here thinking of newly budding hopes and dreams that scared her.
She had to be practical. For all she was enough of a dreamer to pursue her art, she remained at heart quite practical in dealing with most things. Practicality said she was enjoying a marvelous interlude that had to end. She could enjoy it, but she didn’t dare lose sight of the very real limits on these days.
She carried her pad back to the table, pulled the one burning oil lamp closer and picked up her charcoal. As soon as she began to fill in more detail, she drifted away from her surroundings into a creative surge. She might as well have gone deaf, and was blind to everything except the sketch in front of her. She loved these times when art just took over, making her feel more like a conduit than a creator.
“That’s really amazing.” Craig’s voice startled her out of her preoccupation. She blinked, amazed to find he was once again inside with her.
“I didn’t even hear you come in!”
“So I gathered.” He’d already dumped his slicker and moved until he stood over her shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind.”
But she did. She didn’t like people to look at her work before it was done, and she truly hated to work with someone peering over her shoulder. Still, she didn’t want to tell him to get lost. The mood was broken anyway.
“That’s really phenomenal,” he said. “So few lines and you captured so much.”
Pleasure touched her. “Thank you. But it’s not done.” She began to put her charcoal back in the box, and Craig moved away.
“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” he said.
Something in his tone dispelled the last of her fog. “What were you supposed to do? Stand out in the rain? It’s okay.”
He reached for the coffeepot and began to refill it.
She stared at his back, wondering if he’d caught her momentary irritation at the interruption or the way she’d felt when he’d looked over her shoulder.
Seeing him respond this way after what they had shared such a short time ago hurt. An almost physical pain speared her. “Craig? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I bothered you, and I’m sorry.”
It sounded like nothing, but it didn’t feel like nothing. She continued to stare at his back and wondered how to deal with this. A sense of near desperation filled her, but she didn’t know if she was overreacting. Maybe she was assuming he was troubled when he wasn’t. Hector, she was discovering, was a bad guide.
Finally she said the only thing she could think of to try to get a conversation rolling. “Craig, I’m sorry.”
He turned immediately. “For what?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“For...I don’t know. Making you feel unwelcome?”
“Aw, hell,” he said quietly. He rounded the small table in two strides and sat beside her on the bench, wrapping his arms around her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But I felt...like you were offended by something I did.”
He shook his head, catching her chin so that she had to look into his face. “I wasn’t offended. I felt bad because I interrupted what you were doing. I felt bad when I realized that looking over your shoulder made you tense. I mean, idiot that I am, I know that looking over someone’s shoulder isn’t always a good thing to do. But I wasn’t thinking. I was so struck by what you were drawing....”
He leaned in and kissed her hard. “I won’t look over your shoulder again.”
She seemed to have lost her breath. After a beat or two she rediscovered her voice. “It does bother me when I’m working,” she admitted. “I’m used to being alone most of the time when I paint or draw. But you
have nothing to apologize for.”
“Then let’s forget it. I’m not offended and I won’t look over your shoulder again without an invitation.”
She answered his smile with one of her own. “How’s Dusty?”
“Like I thought, he’d picked up a lot of mud. We took care of that. Tomorrow I’m going to bring some hay out here. A thick layer of it will allow the vegetation to grow back and keep his hooves dry if he has to be out there again. But right now? He’s okay for right now.”
“Good. I like Dusty.”
“I think he likes you, too. I don’t, however, think he likes this weather much. He may be tame, but I don’t think he’s truly domesticated, if you get my drift.”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, he’s a great horse and a great companion. But he’s also used to spending hours every day roaming this forest. He’s not your corral sort of horse.”
“Ah. What about the winter?”
“We still spend a lot of time out here, unless it gets brutally cold or we get a blizzard. You should see how shaggy his coat gets. I swear he’s half woolly mammoth.”
She finally released the last of the tension, a tension that she had built herself out of pieces of her previous relationship. She needed to be wary of that. She certainly ought to know as well as anyone just how much past experience could color the present.
They made sandwiches again for dinner and sat facing each other at the table.
“We need to go to town early tomorrow,” he said.
“What for?”
“Um, how about food? And ice? And maybe one of Maude’s fantastic breakfasts?”
“And hay,” she reminded him. “But what about Dusty? You don’t want him to stay in the corral another day.”
“He won’t. I’ll either ride him down to HQ or we can lead him with the truck. They have a bigger corral down there and after the fifteen-mile walk it won’t seem so bad to him. He’ll probably even get to see a few of his friends.”
“Do horses have friends?”
“Believe it. They’re herd animals. Every so often they need to socialize with their own kind. God knows what they talk about. How irritating we are in the saddle? Who’s got a better rider? Whether the hay is fresh or the oats good?”
