by Saylor Bliss
Frenzied hands grasped the edges of my outer shirt and stripped it from my shoulders, using it to catch my arms together behind my back, while he leaned forward and feasted on my throat. Driven by need beyond anything I might have imagined, I arched into the touch. His kisses alternately seared and soothed, and rendered helpless against the onslaught.
Finally I peeled the shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. His hands were already sliding under my tank, running up both sides, over my heated skin. One settled at the small of my back, the other grazed the side of a breast and then slid around to my mid-back, as I compelled him closer.
I could only fist a hand in his shirt and hang on as his caresses carried me toward an end I refused to fear. When his mouth moved over mine, I nipped at his lower lip. His velvet tongue pushed between my lips, stroking, tasting and taking.
I lost myself at the intersection where physical sensation met emotional, helpless to stop anything —even if I’d wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
In one fluid movement, he pulled back. His gaze swept over me, as hot as his touch.
Needy.
Bold.
Possessive.
Travis
My pulse jumped to heart attack levels at the sight of her flawless skin beneath my sun-bronzed hand. The deep need to feel more of her against me set my frantic fingers to work clawing and tugging at my shirt. When I became aware of her working the buttons, I retreated, giving in to her not-at-all-gentle touch.
The vibration emanating from her throat when she ran her hands over the bare skin from my waist to my chest, stoked me to flashover, and I felt an answering groan issue from my own throat. I knelt, hauling her up against me until her skin glided along mine. We held each other that way, face to face, skin to skin, heat to heat, the beginning of a firestorm. She fisted her hands in my hair and drew me even closer. It was all the invitation I needed. Every touch, every sensation, every response fueled my fervor.
I would never get enough of her. I bent my head and captured those soft lips in a deep, slow kiss that drove us both senseless.
Something tickled the back of my neck. A fly or maybe a spider had dropped from the rafters. I interrupted my exploration for just a second to brush at it.
Christine’s whimper drew me back. The subtle floral scent, I’d caught during our embrace back in town, blended with a splash of the outdoors and I followed it, let it lead me to her shoulder, her throat, then lower…
I ran my tongue along her breast down her stomach and kissed gently each and every inch around her delicate belly button, pulling the amber ring I noticed the first night at the bar into my mouth, sucking gently before running my lips back up her torso.
My jeans tightened uncomfortably now.
My mouth follows a fiery trail across the lace seam of her black bra, stopping to explore the heightened peek I find nestled in the center of her cup.
I suckle her into my mouth, feasting on the moans of pleasure my warm mouth elicits from between her full lush lips.
Her hands roam freely, tugging at my own shirt, demanding I lose it.
It's peeled from my body in a flurry of activity and then her hands are at my waist, pulling me back toward her, relishing in the feel of my weight upon her.
I strain against the confines of my jeans, the only satisfaction coming in the soft curves that are rubbing and grinding against me.
My mouth finds hers once again, our tongues meeting in a race against time, against emotion, against all.
Her hands leave my waist, and moments later I recognize the feel of jeans being tugged down. I pull back and glance down at her bright, shining gaze, asking once more if she is sure about taking the next step.
The fire in her gaze is all the answer I need. Leaning back on my knees, I pull the buttons of my own jeans free and allow myself room to breathe.
She kicks her pants down her legs as she pulls me closer once again, whimpering against my mouth with need.
It just about does me in right then and there.
She reaches for my waistband and pushes my jeans lower, exposing every inch of my very alert manhood. Running her hands along the length of me, I imagine I have died and gone to heaven.
My mouth leaves hers, as I trail more kisses down her throat, her neck, and back up again.
Her legs wrap around my waist, "Please. Please, Travis." She whimpers, grinding against me.
Any and all lingering self-doubt vanishes as I slide into her. Silken walls squeeze me tight, threatening to never let me go.
She nips down on my shoulder, "Oh, shit.”
If I could talk I would agree, but at the moment I'm too focused on not shattering inside of her.
Once I've gained a tiny sense of self control, I pull back and then thrust forward, causing her to groan in ecstasy.
Her back arches off the wooden deck, pressing her taut breasts into my face. I capture one with my hand and pinch the exposed nipple.
Chills cascade across her flesh, growing with each thrust. I feel her tightening around me moments before a blush swamps her neck, and then her face.
"Don't stop. Don't stop." She commands as her body shatters around me pulling me along with her.
"Oh god, Angel." I call out as my own seed spills deep inside of her.
I tense, realizing I just called her by the name saved for the other woman in my life. The one who didn't wait.
I pray she doesn't notice.
The tickle from earlier returns, a little stronger now, more of a sting.
Kissing along the outline of her mouth, I shake my head, try to shut it off, but the sensation wraps around my mind, until it calls like a lot of insects from the base of my neck on direct line to the center of my brain. It was the kind of feeling that I often had before discovering someone watching me.
Unless it was an antelope or one of the horses, that couldn’t be the case.
Still, the awareness grows, and I pull away. Gathering to my feet, I push into a crouch then stand, pulling my jeans up as I go. I draw Christine up with me and after helping her pull back into her jeans, I walked her backward, further beneath the porch roof. Raising my finger to my lips, I silently warned her to stay put, before I move to the end of the porch and looked across the field.
Everything seems serene and idyllic. Nothing disturbs the horses. Birds sing and chirp. There are no frantic squawks, no eerie silences. But something is off, something just at the peripheral of my awareness, raising an edgy calm before the storm feeling along my nerve endings.
And it isn't going away.
I glance over my shoulder at her regarding me with unvoiced questions in her eyes. She pulls her shirt back over her shoulder and I sigh.
It’s just as well. The mood was pretty much ruined now anyway.
Chapter Nineteen
Travis
“Much better than rattlesnake.” I say, popping the last of a spicy tortilla into my mouth. Stretching out my long legs, I rolled onto my side, prop my head on one arm, and take pleasure in watching her hands as she chops a pair of mangos into bite-sized pieces.
Sitting cross-legged in front of me, she draws her sharp knife through the rind of a lime, cutting it in half before looking up. “Says the man who didn’t pack anything or rustle up a rattlesnake.” She squeezes both lime halves over the chopped mangos with a motion that has me thinking of more sensual digital pursuits.
I tear my gaze from her hands and lift a shoulder. “I didn’t have to. You brought a whole kitchen with you.”
She plucks a cube of mango from the bowl between us. When she holds it to my lips, I take the fruit into my mouth, then snag her hand, bringing it back to my lips and licking the sweet stickiness from her fingers. When I swirl my tongue over the tip of her index finger, she touches her tongue to her lips. My blood begins a quick drain southward.
With a tiny smile, she slips a chunk between her lips. “Did you know the mango tree is sacred in India? It’s a symbol of love, and some people
believe it can grant wishes.”
Keeping my eyes on her, I bite into another piece and chew slowly. I’d put the brakes on our interlude earlier, and suddenly she seems intent on setting a more leisurely pace.
She lifts another sliver of orange and sucks on it, closing her eyes in obvious delight. Watching her eat is becoming an excursion into exquisite sensual torture.
“Do you have wishes, Christine?” Time for a different kind of distraction. She shakes her head.
“No, not anymore. I think I’ve used up my quota of wishes. What about you?”
Silence falls between us while I contemplate the woman across the blanket. For just a minute incredible sadness shows on her face, but she recovers quickly. I choose my next words with care. “I think we’ve got the beginning of something nice here. I’m really wishing it’ll keep going.”
Christine
I open my mouth and accept his offer of mango. Closing my eyes, I chew slowly, savoring the splash of sweet juice washing over my tongue, while I consider the odd combination of pleasure and fear his words give me.
“It’s a pretty good start. I don’t see any reason to stop.”
“It’s also going fast,” he reminds me.
“So you’ve said. A couple of times.” I scoot across the blanket and right-angle my body against his, supporting the back of my head on his chest. As pillows went, it wasn’t soft enough, but subtle heat caresses my neck, and the distant thump of his heart brings a sense of comfort.
Rocking my head sideways, I glance up at his face. “Too fast for you?”
Surprise registers briefly in his eyes then is gone. He draws lines along my wrist with one finger as he speaks. “I don’t think so. We obviously have physical chemistry.”
I can’t hold back the laugh. “You do have a gift for understatement.” Travis says nothing. He’s looking right at me, but I’m not convinced he’s seeing me. I allow the peace of the clearing to settle over me and wait. The trills of blackbirds harmonize with the river’s bubbling in the distance. It was the rocks that allow the water to sing, creating obstacles and detours that gave the river her song.
At the moment, she sang a happy song… other days, would it be angry? Ever changing, but always singing. Story of my life. With a sigh, he toys with the ends of my hair then laces strands between his fingers. “I’m thinking maybe we should get to know each other.”
“I kind of thought that’s what we were doing.” His gentle laugh rumbles beneath my cheek.
“I’m talking about the other-than-sexy stuff.” I reach up and touch his jaw, enjoying the oh-so-deliciously masculine scratch of light stubble beneath my fingertips.
“I want to take a long time to get to know you, Travis. I don’t want to find out your favorite color is blue because you tell me. I want to know it’s blue because it’s the color of your car, and it’s the color of every shirt I’ve seen you wear except this one.”
He gives a little start, and I smile.
Direct hit.
“I plan to learn all about you,” I continue. “And that includes the sexy parts. I want to find out what you like by your reaction when I touch you.” I run my thumb over his lower lip, smiling at his sudden indrawn breath. The muscles in his chest tense, but he doesn’t move. I fight the sadness that could so easily overwhelm me.
“But I also want to pay attention to the music you listen to and what movies you watch.” A tear slips down my cheek and I swipe at it impatiently. “Because I’ve done it the other way, Travis, with the questions and answers. And I promise you the ending to that one sucked.”
Mortified that I was breaking down in front of him, I try to roll away but Travis tightens his grip and I end up half curled into a ball against his chest.
“Who hurt you, Christine?” I can’t quite meet his eyes.
“No one hurt me. Sometimes life just hurts. Things don’t work out. You think things between you and me are moving along fast? Try falling in love in twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes and having your heart ripped apart in just under sixty seconds.”
Confusion clouds his face. “What?”
“That’s how long it took me to fall in love for the first time in my life.” I shrug, and send what I only hope is an encouraging smile to show him I no longer live in the past. “And how long it took for my heart to be completely shattered by circumstances no one could control. Especially not him,” I finish in a whisper.
I study the emotions streaming across his face, as readable as a Wall Street ticker. He didn’t like the thought of another man in my life, any more than he liked finding mustangs on his open range. Any more than I like thinking of him with another woman. What did that say about us? If we couldn’t accept that each had a past, could we really expect to build a future?
“Travis, have you ever wished for just one more day with someone?” I hesitate, frowning. When had I started needing him to understand who I had become seven years ago?
“Have you ever wished you had a day when you could tell that person exactly how you feel and have them know, without any doubt, that you mean it?” A spasm of pain flickered in Travis’s eyes until he forcefully pushes it away.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah, I have.”
“But all we have is now,” I say softly. “We can’t go back and change things to make them come out better, and we don’t even know for sure we’ll have tomorrow, so we need to live today. That’s what loving him taught me. To live in the moment. If something makes us happy, and it doesn’t hurt anyone else, we should embrace it.”
“For as long as it lasts,” he qualifies.
I shrug. “For as long as it lasts.” He looks at me with nearly unbearable kindness.
“What happened, Christine? What happened to break your heart?” I raise my eyes and met the uncertainty I see in his.
“He died,” I say calmly.
Chapter Twenty
Travis
Her emotionless disclosure sucker-punches the breath from my lungs. She speaks of it like she is announcing she’s been to the market, but the pain rolls off her, waves of it slamming into me. I want to hold her and soothe her. I want to bear her pain for her. All I could do was close my eyes and absorb the agony that flows around her like a tangible entity.
“Christine, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t!” She sat up. This time I let her go.
“It was a while ago. I’m glad you know about it, because it’s part of who I am now. But Travis,” she says, her gaze showing no emotion, “I don’t sing the blues about it. And I’m not looking for you to sing them for me. Are you okay with that?”
Would she run if I told her I wasn’t? Very slowly, I nod once, and she settled comfortably back into my arms.
“I didn’t expect it to be so hot up here,” she observes suddenly, firmly closing the door on the subject of her lost love. “I’m thinking of wading in the calm part of that river over there.”
With a lazy turn of my head, I glance over at the bubbly stream meandering through the clearing. It was running fast but not deep. “You could do that,” I agreed. I lift my chin, indicating the white-topped mountains behind her. “But the water’s all runoff from the snow up there.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Never mind, then.” This time the silence was comfortable, broken only by the gurgling stream and the occasional call of a blackbird. I lace my fingers through her hair and comb down to the ends, eventually settling my hand at the nape of her neck. She sighs softly. It’s a contented sound. I watch her eyelids flutter downward.
“Hey, what kind of food do you like?” asks Mick. “We’ll go to dinner. Just tell me where you want to go.”
My breath catches as I hear the sickening rumble before I feel it. Aftershock! A bad one. It seemed to take forever, though it was probably less than a couple of minutes before I heard the radio squawk in my earpiece, but no voice came across the comm.
“Mick! Are you there?”
Another moment of silence, then,
“I’m here, Angel. Dropped —the radio. Few more chunks fell.”
He sounded so normal and casual.
“So how about that dinner, Angel?”
“Italian. With breadsticks and we can share some cannoli. And… and when you pick me up, you can bring me flowers. I like daisies. The white and yellow ones growing by the side of the road near Big Bear Lake.”
His chuckle was laced with pain that I felt along with him.
“That’s a deal. Angel?”
“I’m right here.”
“You want to go to Vegas with me and get married? I figure we’ve already spent most of the night together.”
I giggled. “What kind of half-assed proposal is that? You do know how to sweep a gal off her feet.” Really, he did.
A breathy chuckle filled her ear. “Sorry… I can’t get down on… one knee just now with a building on top of my ass.”
The pain was exquisite, lancing straight through my heart. It was getting harder to do, but somehow I kept my voice light. “So, Mick, do you always just jump in with both feet?”
“It’s the only way, sugar.” I could hear his smile. “You’re not really living if you’re always looking at life from the outside.”
“Don’t you ever think about how you could get burned?” He was silent for a moment, then soft laughter filled her earpiece. “Every time I climb on the truck when we’re called out, sweet stuff.”
Color flooded my face. “I’m sorry —I didn’t mean —that was incredibly insensitive of me.”
His laughter grew a little louder. “Relax, honey, I’m messing with you. I knew what you meant. Look at it this way. If you don’t take chances, you won’t get any rewards.” He finished softly, “And right now, I’m thinking marrying you would be one really great reward.”
“You know, you’re taking a heck of a chance asking me to marry you when you don’t even know what I look like. I could be paper-bag homely.”
“Then I’ll have to lay up a good supply of paper bags,” he teased. His voice softened. “‘Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.’”
