by Sarah Title
“I forget.”
He kissed her neck, one hand holding her waist while the other moved down over her stomach. When he reached the hem of her tank top, he slid his hand under it, then up to cup her breast in his bare hand. He squeezed gently, pinching her nipple between his fingers. Mal moaned and arched into him, rubbing her backside against his erection.
“Mal.”
He pulled her hard against him, ripping her shirt over her head. Both of his hands went to crush her breasts, to crush her to him. She leaned into him, lifting her arms up and around his neck. She pulled his head toward her mouth, stretching around for a kiss. Her neck was straining as she tried to get closer, molding herself to him, getting inside of him. She opened her mouth wider, pushed her tongue against his, into his mouth.
Mal was definitely taking control of their kiss and he loved that. He loved her smooth back against his chest so his hands had complete access to her gorgeous, full breasts
It wasn’t enough. He needed to get closer, he needed to feel her get higher. He let her control the kiss, but his hands controlled her body. He let go of her breasts, despite her whimper of protest. His hands snaked roughly down her body, over the curve of her stomach and into the waistband of her panties. He kept going down, his fingers brushing the soft curls, kept going down to gently part her, feeling her moist and hot on his fingers.
She unwrapped her arms from his neck, her hands meeting his on her own waist. “Get these off,” she panted, pulling at the waistband of her underwear. He let her pull them down, shimmy out of them. Then he bent down, one arm on her waist, one arm under her legs, and he tossed her on the bed.
Mal held on to the sheets as she bounced on the bed.
“Did you just throw me?” Her glazed-over expression was slowly being replaced by incredulity. Move fast, Carson.
He would have moved faster if he wasn’t distracted by her bouncing breasts. He would have said something funny, some quick retort to show he could match her, wit to wit. But then, talking had never been his strong suit. And, of course, breasts.
Keith crawled across the bed, crawling until he had her trapped underneath him, his knees outside of her thighs, his arms at her shoulders. She reached up to caress his chest, then leaned up to lick his nipples, then to bite. Keith inhaled sharply.
“Sorry!”
“No, oh, God, do that again.”
She did. His cock jumped; he was close. Too close, dammit. He leaned away from her, then bent down to give her a deep, deep kiss.
“Mal,” he whispered into her mouth, tasting how sweet she was. He moved his lips down her neck, licking the pulse there, feeling how soft she was. She reached between them, trying to touch him.
“No, Mal, I can’t.”
“Please.”
She wouldn’t stop, so he grabbed her wrist, then firmly held it over her head. She looked at him, a little shocked, excited. He moved her other wrist up, then held both wrists with one hand. Her breasts were raised high by the movement and he placed wet kisses on each one, slowly savoring her softness. He continued to hold her wrists up and kissed down her body, across her stomach, until—
“No,” she said, closing her legs and bringing her knees up.
He looked up, meeting her eyes.
“Please, I don’t want to wait.”
He didn’t want to be accused of being cruel, especially when he was restraining her arms like that. He really didn’t want to stop doing that, so he kissed his way back up her body as her legs fell apart, welcoming his hips between them.
“Ready?” he said, nudging her.
“Unh,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
He kept one hand on her wrists and slid one hand under her bottom. She was so soft; he barely registered reaching into his bedside table for a condom before he buried himself in her, moving slowly until his hips met hers. She exhaled, a look of ecstasy on her face.
“OK?”
“Unh,” she said, holding him to her with her legs, starting to move her hips upward. He started to move, too, but she said, “No, don’t move. Let me.”
Mal slid down underneath him, bracing her feet on the bed as she pushed slowly upward. Keith stared down at her with a glazed expression, wanting to move, but she pulled one leg up and wrapped it around his waist. She was straining against his arms. He really, really wanted to move.
“I’ll let go of your wrists if you let me move,” he panted into her ear.
“Yes, yes, OK,” she said frantically. He released her wrists and she entwined them around his back, up over his shoulders. He looked at her, straining against him, moving deliberately, and he shifted against her. They moved together, coming together, backing up until they were nearly separated, coming together again. He couldn’t hold back; he increased the pace, and then she was keeping up with him. She clutched his shoulder blades, her nails digging.
“Keith! Keith!” she panted with each pump of his hips. He pumped one more time, hard, shouted her name, and exploded inside of her. She shuddered underneath him, shouting his name right back.
His arms gave out and he collapsed next to her. He looked over at her, her eyes fluttering closed, her lips releasing a sated sigh. “I love you.” He sighed, pulling her close to him, placing his hand gently on her head. He fell asleep.
Mal didn’t think she had ever been so happily tired in her life. She felt Keith’s heavy weight leave her body, and she thought, Oh, now it’s over. Then he pulled her close. She thought she heard him say, “I love you,” but surely not, surely that was some sort of post-coital wishful thinking. Surely he didn’t love her, she thought as she buried her head in his chest, feeling his hand come up to cover the back of her head, his other hand running a sleepy caress over her hip. Surely not, she thought, as she fell asleep.
Chapter 21
Mal wasn’t exactly sure why she had snuck back into the house at dawn. There was no real reason why she shouldn’t spend the morning in Keith’s bed, and when she remembered how he’d woken her up in the middle of the night to take her for a third time, her reasons for leaving seemed even more flimsy. Besides, there was no way Miss Libby was not aware of where she’d spent most of the night—or at least where she hadn’t spent it.
Still, she woke up just before dawn with an overwhelming feeling of impropriety. Was impropriety even a feeling? Whatever it was, she felt it, and she dressed quickly and snuck out of the bunkhouse.
She managed to sleep for another hour or so, Peanut snoring softly at her feet, running in his sleep. It paled in comparison to what she had just left, but it was better than nothing, she supposed.
She sighed and stretched, feeling gloriously sore, blushing as she remembered what had made her sore. Keith—who would have thought? Strong, silent, and so generous. Loving, even.
She was startled out of that alarming thought by a knock at her bedroom door.
Luke stuck his head in. “Hey, baby, I’m home.”
Keith woke up alone, and he woke up hungry, blinking in the sunshine streaming through the curtains. He wasn’t sure why Mal had left, and he wasn’t looking forward to a confrontation with anyone. Lord help him if Miss Libby thought he’d taken advantage of her. But he hadn’t, had he? She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had felt it all week, a quiet pulse between them. He felt it last night, when she responded to him so warmly. He felt it when they were making love, and when they were holding each other afterward, then again when they were making love, he thought, laughing to himself.
Pushing the thought aside, he headed for the shower—a cold one. He showered, quickly toweled off, threw on his jeans, and ran out into the yard. He thought he would run into the kitchen, find Peanut, then grab some of Miss Libby’s breakfast. Instead he ran out and straight into his brother’s fist.
“Hey, asshole!”
“Luke, calm down, what—”
Luke punched him in the mouth.
“Luke, what the hell?” He dodged another blow.
Keith dodged right, then put his own fists up defensively.
“I brought her to this house because I thought she’d be safe and you pick that moment to wake the fuck up. No woman’s good enough for you, none of the local girls who threw themselves at you, then I bring one woman home and you suddenly find yourself!”
“Luke, stop—” Keith grabbed Luke’s right arm and wrenched it behind his back, turning him and twisting so Luke was temporarily disarmed. “Calm the hell down!”
“I’m not calming down, you asshole! I’m talking about you getting drunk and taking advantage of a vulnerable woman who, by the way, is engaged to me! I’m talking about you living like a goddamn monk, treating everyone like the miserable bastard that you are until you can take someone who belongs to me!”
“She doesn’t belong to you, Luke.”
“You just want her because you can’t have her!”
“Keith, please don’t hurt him!”
Keith looked up to see Mal running toward them, her face desperate. He wrenched Luke’s arm a little harder. Was that what she thought? That he was just taking advantage of an opportunity? Was that what he was to her? Someone to help her get over her husband? Someone to warm her bed until Luke came home?
Luke took advantage of Keith’s momentary confusion to twist himself out of Keith’s grip, tearing his shirt in the process. He turned on Keith, swinging his fist hard. Keith ducked, but Mal had gotten herself in between them to stop the fight. Instead she stopped Luke’s fist. With her face.
They all three stood there stunned, the brothers looking at Mal, Mal staring into the space between them.
Then both men moved at once. Luke reached for Mal, regret in his eyes. Keith grabbed Luke’s shirt, pulling him back.
“Don’t you dare touch her.”
Luke turned on him, tearing his shirt again. His fists came up and he grabbed Keith around the shoulders, trying to pull him down. Keith got a leg under him and kicked out, knocking Luke to the ground. Mal stood there, still stunned.
“Hey! Knock it off, you animals!” Miss Libby shouted as she turned the hose on the boiling men. They looked up, soaked.
“You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Don’t come inside until you have cooled off. Mal, sweetie, come with me.” She grabbed Mal’s hand and dragged her, still stunned, into the house.
Keith looked over at his brother, who looked like a wet dog. “You asshole,” he said in a low voice.
Luke looked at him helplessly. “Did I punch her in the face?”
Keith nodded, breathing hard.
“Shit. Shit, I’m so sorry,” Luke said, looking toward the house.
“It was an accident,” Keith said, even though he wanted to pummel his brother into the ground for hurting her.
“You don’t understand,” Luke started, then punched into the dirt at his feet.
“Luke, you were way out of line, but she’ll see—”
“He hit her.”
Keith stared at his brother, water dripping onto his forehead.
“That’s how I convinced her to leave. He hit her, she came to me, and we left.”
A million questions ran through Keith’s mind, too fast for any of them to take hold.
“They were separated. Right after I met her, I think. But for months afterward, she still lived with him. We talked about it, she and I, and we’d work out a plan for her to confront him, stand her ground, and move out. We wrote it out, dammit. But every time, he talked her out of it. Every damn time she was back to ironing his goddamn shirts while he screwed other women in their bed.”
“How?”
“The way she is now, that’s nothing like she was before. When I met her, she would jump at her own shadow. She never did anything without asking Michael’s permission first. I wouldn’t have seen her again if I didn’t work all those stupid charity luncheons she went to.”
Keith thought about the way Mal acted after she got off the phone with Michael, how she was always quiet and tentative. The way it took a while for her to get back to herself.
“How often did he hit her?”
“Just the once, according to her. That’s enough, don’t you think?” Luke finally looked at Keith.
Keith pressed his fist into his forehead. That was more than enough.
“She was trying to sign a lease on an apartment. Some dinky studio. I was cosigning for her. Can you imagine? Anyway, he found it. He thought she was fooling around with me, and he hit her. It was my fault.”
“Were you?”
“What, fooling around with her? Jesus, Keith, I’m not an animal.”
Keith was starting to feel like he was the animal. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s what she said. I’m responsible, Keith. She’s my responsibility.”
“She can take care of herself now.”
Luke sighed. “She said that, too.”
“I didn’t take advantage of her,” Keith said. “I mean, we drank at the Harvest Festival, but nothing really happened until later.” Luke didn’t need to know about their aborted drunken make-out session. “It wasn’t planned, I swear. The more time we spent together, ah, I don’t know. I’m not good at this.”
“The more time you spent together, the more time you wanted to spend together?”
“Yeah, something like that. Exactly like that.”
“Even though you knew we were engaged.” The bitter accusation returned to Luke’s tone.
“No.” Keith gave him his older-brother-knows-best look. “She told us pretty early on that your engagement was fake. What the hell were you thinking? What kind of game were you playing with her?”
“It wasn’t a game.” Luke looked up when Keith snorted. “Fine, but it wasn’t that kind of game. I wasn’t tricking her. She needed to get away, and this seemed like a good plan.”
“Pretending to be engaged to a stranger seemed like a good plan?”
“We weren’t strangers, Keith. We were friends. We are friends.”
“I tried to stay away,” Keith said.
“But, what, she pounced on you?”
“Watch it.”
“Keith, I’ve never seen you think with anything but your head before. What the hell are you doing, starting something with this woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she just a fling? Or are you going to make a go for it? Are you going to ask her to live here? On a goddamn failing horse farm? Do you know what her life was like in DC, Keith? She had everything she wanted. Here, we don’t even have an extra car for her to borrow. How are you going to take care of her?”
Keith kicked his shoe in the dirt. “Mal can take care of herself.”
“She can? Then what the hell does she need you for?”
Keith looked up, not knowing the answer. It was then he noticed the beat-up chrome horse trailer parked next to the stable.
“What’s that?”
Luke smiled. “It’s an investment.”
“Luke . . .”
“Keith, it’s a sure thing. This stud horse was going for auction, and he’s a beauty.”
“We’re not set up for that.”
“But we can be. Look, we’ll talk about it later, when Dad’s here.”
“And Katie.”
“Damn, Katie’s going to hate it. Maybe I can get Chase to talk to her. Or Mal—does she get along with Mal?”
“Yeah. Everybody does.”
“She’s a sweet girl. That’s a warning, Keith.”
Keith sighed, ran his fingers through his hair. “I won’t hurt her. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should just leave her be.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Sure, yes.” Keith paused, looked up over toward the cottage he should have been sharing with his wife. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“I love that girl, Keith. I would do anything for her.”
Keith looked at his little brother,
sitting in the wet dirt.
“When I went to her room this morning, she was bouncing off the walls, telling me all the stuff she’s been doing around here. Did you know she really likes filing?”
Keith laughed. “It’s a sickness.”
“You guys have been good for her.”
“You think?”
“Why do you think I brought her here?”
“I think you brought her here because you had no other options.”
“Can we just pretend, for once, that one of my ideas is working out the way I planned?”
Keith clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, fine. We’ll pretend.”
They stood up and looked toward the house.
“Keith?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure you stay good for her, or I’ll hit you for real.”
Chapter 22
When Keith and Luke came in through the back kitchen door, tails between their legs, they were greeted by a disapproving scowl from Miss Libby and the sight of Mal sitting at the counter with a frozen steak on her face.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry—” Mal held up a hand before Luke could finish.
“I’ve had it. I’m tired, I’m cranky, and my head hurts. I’m sick of men. I’m sick of your power trips and your fighting. I’m done with men! Miss Libby, run away with me.”
Miss Libby laughed. “You’re too young for me, but it’s a lovely offer.” Her look turned disapproving the second she turned back to the brothers. “You two, I’m not sure about. I’m tempted to send you to your rooms without your supper.”
Keith’s attention, though, was on Mal. “Does your head hurt?”
She gave him a one-eyed glare. “What do you think?”
“Can I look at it?” At her skeptical glance, he said, “I’m a doctor. I mean, I know I’m a vet, but please let me look at your face.”
She lowered the steak and he kneeled down in front of her.
“Follow my finger.” She did. He gingerly touched the tender skin around her eye. She flinched. It was already starting to bruise. “How bad is your headache?”
“It’s nothing.” She looked at Luke, who had started to protest.
