Your'e Still the One

by Debbi Rawlins

  “I think I can climb up on my own.”

  “I’m sure you can. But would you let me help you?” This was so Rachel. Never giving up, never asking for help, no matter how high the odds against her. Since she was a kid she’d been a ball of energy, always moving forward, trying with her last breath to reach her goal.

  “Yes,” she said, her smile unexpectedly shy. “Thank you.”

  He lowered his hands, and she stepped one foot into them. She heaved herself up to the window and briefly perched on the ledge, drawing her knees up to her chest. Carefully she swung around and let herself inside.

  “There’s furniture in here,” she said, sticking her head out the window. “I’m not sure what...everything is covered with sheets. Here.” She offered her hand.

  “It’s better if you just stand clear.”

  She moved back, and he hoisted himself up.

  The interior of the cabin was warmer than he expected so he figured it was worth trying to close the window again. It stuck twice and wouldn’t go down all the way, but close enough.

  “Did you know this stuff was here?” Rachel walked through the living room, peeking under the sheets.

  “I vaguely recall my mom saying that some of the rooms were left intact.” He glanced around, saw that even an old piano remained in the corner, and a coat tree stood near the front door.

  “This couch is in good shape. So are the chairs.”

  He was more interested in the couch and started to yank off the sheet.

  “Wait.” Rachel’s warning was too late.

  Dust particles fluttered through the air making them both cough. He cussed between coughing bouts, while she laughed.

  “Really smooth,” she said, flapping a hand to clear the dust.

  He caught her wrist, ignored her squeal of protest and pulled her toward him. When she realized he meant to kiss her, she quit fighting him and slid her arms around his neck. Her freezing hands were pressed to the skin under his jacket collar, but he didn’t care. He’d warm her up soon enough.

  He kissed the corner of her mouth, felt her lips tremble. “You still cold? I’m not sure about using the fireplace but we can try.”

  “No, let’s not risk it.” She tilted her head back to look at his face, while pressing her body into him. They really had to get rid of the bulky jackets. “Think we should look upstairs?”

  “I believe the bedrooms are empty. I’ll go check.” He kissed her hard and quick, then resisted the urge to run up the stairs. No telling if they needed work.

  But they felt solid under his boots and he used the time to get out of his jacket. After confirming all four bedrooms were without furniture, he returned to the living room. Rachel had rolled up the sheet from the couch and tucked it under the piano bench. She looked up and smiled.

  “No luck upstairs.” Remembering his hat, he tossed it along with the jacket onto a chair near the fireplace.

  “Oh, well, at least this is in good shape.” She pressed down on the brown-plaid seat cushion.

  “Sure is ugly.”

  “But no dust.”

  “You need help with your jacket?” he asked, walking toward her.

  She didn’t say anything, just watched him approach as she unzipped and pulled her arms free of the sleeves.

  He was already getting hard, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Or seen what was under that black sweater. Didn’t matter really. He was alone with Rachel, and that’s what he’d wanted most. Part of him still couldn’t believe she was here in Blackfoot Falls. He’d imagined she would be anywhere but at the Sundance.

  Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. He took the jacket from her and threw it at the chair. This was a moment he’d dreamed about—his desire for her had been years in the making.

  Matt wrapped her in his arms and held her against his chest. She smelled so damn good. He’d always noticed a hint of vanilla around her, even when he’d been too horny and fueled by teenage hormones to care about the little things. Breathing her in, he hugged her tighter, then leaned back just enough to look at her face.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly parted. The sun shining through the window lit up her hair and was starting to warm her skin. Though he figured he might have something to do with that, too. She sure had that effect on him.

  “What?” she said, her lips twitching. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “We’re finally alone. I have you in my arms. Why wouldn’t I be smiling?” He kissed her, sliding his hands down her back until he found the hem of her sweater.

  Slowly, he lifted it, giving her a moment to process what he was about to do. She gave a small jerk, breaking the kiss.

  “You okay?”

  “Better than okay,” she said as her eyes drifted closed.

  He skimmed his palm over her silky skin, let the tips of his fingers trail her delicate spine. He unfastened her bra, and cupped her bare breast. Her eyes opened and her warm breath whooshed out with a soft startled gasp that touched something inside of him. She’d known they were headed for this moment. The little minx had even baited him. But for all her new sophistication, in some ways, she was still that teenage girl testing boundaries in a sweet tangle of impatient determination and naïveté.

  She’d hate the observation, deny it, tell him he was insane, he thought as he thumbed her taut nipple. The reality of what he was doing floored him. This was a first...he’d never touched her naked breasts before. Years ago, when they’d horsed around in Mill Creek, she’d worn a swimsuit. He’d wanted to slide his fingers beneath the fabric—God, how desperately he’d wanted to touch her—but he hadn’t dared.

  He settled his lips on hers, then adjusted his head so he could seek all of her mouth. She accepted his exploration with a whispery sigh that made his heart pump faster and his cock leap.

  Heat roared through him. His body tightened with need, and it took everything he had not to lay her on the couch, spread her legs and bury himself inside of her. He’d sworn he’d take things slow, make their first time together memorable, give their lovemaking the tenderness it deserved....

  Moving his hand away from her breast, he gentled the kiss. But she wasn’t having that. She strained upward to keep their mouths joined. He had to act, or he wouldn’t be able to trust himself. He lifted his head out of her reach, and she stared up at him as if he’d just cut off her air supply.

  “That last night,” Rachel said softly, and he met her eyes. “Remember I was going to sneak out and we were supposed to meet at the grove of aspens behind the calving shed...?”

  He did all he could not to wince. Yeah, he remembered. It had been the painful night he’d left Blackfoot Falls.

  “Earlier in the day I’d made up my mind that I was going to lose my virginity to you that night.”

  “Ah, Rachel—”

  “Shh, no.” She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

  With a heaviness in his chest, he wondered how long she’d waited for him out there in the cold. Wondered if he hadn’t climbed into his old truck, would he have tried to find comfort in her body? After that final explosive fight with Wallace, Matt might’ve gone against his own principles, taken what she offered. And he would’ve hated himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I told you to be quiet.” She pressed her body against his, pulling him into a kiss and urging the hand he held under her sweater back up to her breast.

  Her beaded nipple teased his palm. He gently kneaded, learned the texture and feel of her, the pearled nub, the silky skin surrounding it. But that wasn’t enough—he wanted to look at her. Taste her.

  She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her trembling hand inside, skimming his belly, grazing his nipple...touching the scars.

  Matt drew back. The movement was subtle, but it wasn’t a reflex. He’d never done that with a woman before. Not that he was aware of, and the scarred flesh hadn’t made him particularly s
elf-consciousness. Most of the wounds had healed well, and hell, they came with the territory.

  He kept kissing her, hoping she hadn’t noticed his withdrawal. But she had. He could feel it in the subdued pressure of her lips, the tentativeness of her touch. Yet what did he expect? This was Rachel. Even after ten years, she still knew him. Better than most anyone else, he suspected.

  “The scars don’t bother me,” she said. “If that worries you. I just hate that you were hurt.”

  Staring into the heartfelt concern in her eyes brought him instant clarity. His reaction had everything to do with Rachel. He didn’t care about being marked, but he was ashamed of what some of the scars represented. Proof that Wallace’s blood flowed through his veins. Proof Matt had that same hot temper and mean streak if he didn’t keep himself in check. He’d been reckless those first years on his own, getting into bar fights, starting them when he was in a foul mood.

  “Matt?” She cupped his face in her soft hands. “You want to talk?”

  He slowly shook his head, pulled her wrists to her sides and lifted her sweater. She was so damn perfect he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop staring.

  “Yes, I still have freckles,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and lowered his head.

  * * *

  AT THE BAREST TOUCH of his tongue on her nipple, Rachel nearly slid to the floor. If she didn’t get a grip, he would think she was still a virgin. He rolled his tongue over her other breast then brought his head up and claimed her mouth with a fierceness that pushed her over the edge of reason.

  She fisted his hair but let him do whatever he wanted. And God, he wanted all of her. He couldn’t seem to settle in any one spot for long. His lips moved to her chin and jaw, and then the tender spot below her ear. Only when her sweater slipped down, did he lift his head.

  “This has to go,” he said, his voice a rough rasp, his eyes like she’d never seen them before.

  She’d always loved the mesmerizing light blue, but this midnight color really worked, too. In answer, she pulled up the hem and then let him lift the sweater off the rest of the way.

  “You, too,” she ordered, and gestured when he reached for her.

  Immediately he jerked the flannel shirt off his shoulders, but she knew the exact moment he remembered the scars. He wavered a second, blinked, then finished the task. His face, though, was completely unreadable, so unlike his younger version, and that made her ache.

  She got rid of her bra, boots and jeans in a mad rush, leaving her in tiny blue panties, while he stripped down to black boxer briefs. She wanted to just stare at him, take in all the amazing changes that had transformed his body. But more than anything she longed to feel him. Now. He must have felt the same because before she could even blink he’d lifted her bride-style and put her on the couch. Without missing a beat, she pulled him down on top of her so he settled between the V of her legs.

  He kissed her leisurely and thoroughly, their tongues swirling and mating, their pounding hearts ignoring the unhurried pace he’d tried to set. When he drew his palm down her naked back, she shivered, felt goose bumps surface.

  “Cold?” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Turned on.”

  The next thing she knew he’d scooted down. After a quick kiss to her inner thigh, he tugged down her panties and pulled them off. He stood to get out of his boxers, and her breath caught. Sunlight shimmered off the smooth tanned skin of his chest and shoulders.

  Her gaze followed as he peeled down his briefs, his erection so hard the head brushed his stomach. She swallowed, as she looked at him, amazed that all the times she’d imagined him naked, her imagination hadn’t been nearly enough.

  With a groan that made her insides tight, he grabbed his jeans and searched out his wallet. Once he had the red packet in hand, he tossed the rest away and settled back down on the couch, kneeling between her thighs. “I’m almost afraid to touch you,” he said. “You’ve been a part of my dreams for so long, I don’t want to suddenly wake up.”

  She arched up, resting on her elbows. “Come on down here and I’ll show you just how real I am.”

  His smile made her melt, and the heat of his body on hers made her shiver. She found his mouth and they met and parted and met again, each time a new discovery.

  She couldn’t stop her gasp when his hand slid up the inside of her thigh. She rose to meet him, and he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, two fingers slipping into the moist heat of her sex.

  “Rachel, I can’t wait.” he whispered as he moved back to look at her.

  “Me, too.”

  He groaned, and she might have whimpered when his fingers moved away, but then she heard the tearing of the packet, and she watched, panting, as he sheathed himself.

  When he looked at her again, his dark eyes were unblinking. He shifted up, looming above her, his muscled arms on either side of her chest. He took her in a ferocious kiss, a claiming, and then he rebalanced, freeing one hand.

  He entered her slowly. She could feel it was difficult for him, that he was using everything he had to keep himself in check. But she was in no mood to be careful.

  She threw her leg over his back and pulled him down, until he slid into her body and filled her completely.

  His gasp was mixed with laughter, but only for a moment. When their eyes met again, it was like a flash fire. She had to struggle to keep hers open because she wanted to see everything. The tendons stretching in his neck, the beads of sweat on his forehead. The way he looked at her as if she were the only woman he’d ever wanted.

  Rachel cried out when he shifted forward. The angle was perfect with her heel digging into the small of his back. She tried to keep him right there, but he pulled out—not all the way, but enough to make her moan in protest. He touched her hair then thrust into her again. She tensed, close to breaking point, as he moved deep and slow inside her, convinced she wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. Each time he thrust forward, his erection rubbed her clit and sent a jolt running through her. It had never felt like this before, like being ridden by lightning.

  “God, Rachel, I can’t last much—”

  His mouth covered hers, kissing her with a savage hunger that stole her breath. His body went rigid, then arched against her. He murmured her name again, and she held on to his arms so tightly he’d probably bruise. A second later she came, the first spasm so intense she almost knocked them both off the couch. He followed, pushing and pulsing inside her, the feral sound that ripped from his throat forever etched in her memory.

  He was careful not to just collapse on top of her. But he held her in his arms as they made their way back to breathing, stopping for gentle kisses and lightly trailing fingers. She lay back and closed her eyes. Matt, everything, had been so much better than her dreams.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER THE SUN had moved and no longer warmed the couch. The air was probably chilly, but they weren’t cold, not with the way Rachel’s body was half draped over Matt.

  “If I’d known back then,” he said, lazy with contentment and the pure pleasure of being able to brush his palm over her skin. “That it would be like this, I would have brought you up here ten years ago.”

  “You liar. You were too afraid of me.”

  “True,” he admitted, laughing. “You were a brazen little thing at Mill Creek.”

  “Hey.”

  “You’re gonna deny that?” He rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth over her puckered nipple.

  “No.” She almost left it at that, the flush surging up her chest distracting her, but then added, “I liked teasing you.”

  “You were a tease, all right. But the truth is, if I had acted on your advances, you would’ve run the other way.”

  “Probably. Only in the beginning.”

  He dragged his splayed hand up to her throat, then slipped around to her nape, the curl of his fingers exerting just the right amount of pressure to make her hold h
er breath as he pulled her mouth to his.

  “Once I almost called your bluff,” he whispered, then only tasted and taunted with his tongue and teeth, when she’d expected total devastation.

  “When?”

  “The time Wallace nearly caught us.”

  It took a moment for her foggy brain to recall the incident. Matt had been repairing the irrigation system near the short strip of jutting land where the Sundance bordered the Lone Wolf. She’d ridden Sylvie, a young bay mare, to look for him. He was working shirtless, and the sight of his tanned sweaty body had sent her newly awakened hormones somersaulting.

  God, she’d been particularly shameless that day, stripping down to her bikini, strutting around, trying to get him to follow her to Mill Creek. Sex hadn’t been the goal. She’d been too young and a little afraid to fantasize beyond kissing. The brazenness was only possible because she’d known she was safe with Matt.

  “I remember,” she said, her lashes fluttering closed when his mouth moved to her ear, the friction of his thumb rubbing her nipple becoming almost unbearable. “We heard his four-wheeler just in time.”

  Matt drew back, his breath washing over her earlobe. His hand stilled. “Man, I was tempted....”

  She wished he hadn’t stopped, though the intriguing gleam in his eyes aroused her curiosity. “To follow me?”

  “To let the old man catch us.” His smile was different, kind of unpleasant. “Wouldn’t you have loved to have seen his face?”

  “Not really.” She shifted away, but Matt barely noticed.

  He stared past her out the window. “Everything was about work. He pushed and pushed, never considering I had it in me to defy him. Can you picture him finding me with a McAllister?” He snorted. “He would’ve had a heart attack on the spot and saved Mom and me a lot of trouble.”

  Rachel’s stomach roiled. A bitter taste coated her mouth. She rose in search of her clothes, sickened by the hostile expression on Matt’s face. She could’ve lived her whole life without seeing that dark side of him. If he thought his hatred for Wallace was gone, he was very mistaken.

  So what were they doing here? What part did she play? Was Matt grabbing his last chance to stick it to his father? She slipped on her bra and fastened the clasp, then pulled on her panties and jeans.