by Christa Wick
Collin had entered the guesthouse after I vacated it, taken my photos, had them scanned and then -- what?
NSA has these algorithms
I shook my head. I had told him he couldn't fix the pictures. Just like I had told him things between us were settled and that I had finally and completely shut him out.
Sinking to my knees, I started to cry. I had to be right because if I let him back in and he left me again there would be nothing to piece back together.
I chewed at my lip to stay focused. Things clearly weren't settled because he wouldn't let them be. But he kept coming at me sideways. I mean, Reed -- not Collin -- had given me insight on Collin's reaction to the miscarriage. Kessa had sent me to hospital on the day Collin was released and, instead of telling me he was buying the farm for me, Collin had made it sound like he was buying it for himself and then haunted me every day at work afterwards. He had sent a man/boy to deliver the quitclaim deed and pictures -- and snuck behind my back to get the pictures to begin with.
As my list built, I rose from the floor and started to pace. He also had acted lie the ring on the tray didn't exist or had no relevance between us.
So did you, Mia. So did you.
I shook my head at the annoying little voice of reason inside me. This was about Collin's behavior, not mine. I twisted the locks on the hotel door and opened it, almost storming out without my keys or wallet. I shut and locked the door again while I retrieved my wallet from the attache and found my keys where I had dropped then on the floor.
I locked the room up and headed for the horse farm. I looked like a maniac, I'm sure, shaking my head, talking to myself, shouting sometimes.
Sideways bastard!
I pulled into the drive, my car kicking up dirt that glowed red in the tail lights as I came to a stop in front of the main house.
Seeing it for the first time in over a week, I sucked a breath in. The exterior was still in dire need of a new paint job, but the dark, heavy drapes had been taken off the windows in favor of lace curtains. The light fixtures on the porch had been replaced. Those inside the house had been dusted so that the crystal threw fairy lights into the night.
He had found rocking chairs for the front porch that were a close match to those he would have seen in the ruined pictures. The lace curtains, too -- I hadn't realized that they mirrored the pictures until I saw the rocking chairs.
I got out of the car and approached the house, stopping just short of stepping onto the porch. The front door was open, the screen keeping out the moths that wanted to dance with the light that streamed from every window.
I stared hard at the door. He had to have heard the car pull up, had to have known the pictures and deed were delivered. That he didn't appear made me doubt myself all over again.
Behind me, I heard the crunch of drying pine needles. I turned to see Collin step away from the tall pine that stood in the front yard. He hadn't come out because he'd been there all along, watching my reaction.
Looking for the tactical advantage.
Taking my hand, Collin led me onto the porch. Urging me to look up, he brushed a finger under my chin.
"I figured if you didn't come out right away, there really wasn't any chance left for us."
"That I came doesn't mean there is." I pulled my hand from his. I knew I wanted him, would always want him. I just didn't think I could survive having him again. "Go home, Collin."
He seemed to stagger a step back. I knew the feeling, felt a flare of deep pain shoot through my chest as if we'd both been stabbed with the same blade or shot with the same gun.
"I don't have one." He straightened, his gaze like it had been that last day in the hospital. He studied me as if he didn't quite know who I was. Reaching out, he scratched at a spot of peeling paint on the side of the porch. "Haven't since before I enlisted. I have places I own--"
"This isn't one of them anymore," I reminded him.
He acknowledge the fact with a slight nod and then his hands curled against the sides of my face. "What will it take for you to stop hating me?"
Hate him? I loved him, but I had to love myself, too, and the two loves weren't compatible.
When I remained mute, he filled the silence.
"I thought I was protecting you by sending you away." His hands moved, threading in my hair as he stepped closer. "That was just a lie I told myself so I wouldn't feel bad. If it was only about wanting to protect you, I would have kept you next to me."
His chest pressed against mine. His mouth grazed the side of my face, the pressure so light I could feel the tremble in his lips.
"I was protecting me," he confessed. "From losing you, from guilt...you had all the power, you still do..."
He stepped away, his hand dipping into one pocket. The ring came out. He didn't offer it to me or even look at me, just ran it round and round his fingertip as he continued speaking. "I'm done fighting other people's wars, baby. Done keeping other men's families safe."
His voice caught and I thought for a second the ring would disappear from sight once more.
"There are horses coming tomorrow." He met my gaze again. "Rescues."
For a moment, I forgot about the ring. Horses? Tomorrow? Did he realize what a huge responsibility even one horse was?
His free hand reached behind him to slide a picture from his back pocket. He showed it to me without offering it, as if he intended to keep this one for himself whether I let him stay or forced him to leave.
The picture was a close up. I stood with my forehead touching Corabelle's long nose, my hand stroking the side of her face. My mother had taken it the day after Evan had forced Ray Haynes to leave his job as foreman on the farm. I hadn't quite felt like I lost my father all over again, more like a favorite uncle who had stepped in after my father's death. A man who had taught me to ride and selected my best and longest friend -- the horse I sought comfort from in the picture.
Leaning in, Collin kissed the tears streaming down my cheeks. When his arms wrapped around me and pulled me to him, I didn't protest. The picture disappeared into his back pocket, but the ring didn't. He pressed it into my palm and curled his fingers around my hand.
His lips pressed against my ear. "I thought the farm could offer second chances...to horses and children..."
Softly, so softly I wouldn't have heard it if I hadn't been hanging on every word, he finished.
"To me."
Chapter Eighteen
Mia
Listening to the shower shut off in the master bathroom, I slowly paced in the bedroom. Collin was washing up for the second time that day. The first had been outside under a hose after he assisted our foreman, Ray Haynes, in delivering a foal earlier in the evening.
I had watched the circus of nerves and jumbled elbows from a safe distance inside the stable. Three months pregnant, I'd had a hard time getting Collin to even allow me inside the outbuildings since I told him the good news a month before.
It wasn't just the the stables or horses. He didn't want me carrying so much as a grocery bag from the car to the house or using a two-step ladder to pull something down from a cupboard. As for what I could do in the bedroom...
I blew a hot puff of air as I walked, clearing a thick strand of hair from my face. The bedroom had become a place solely reserved for sleeping, including the "mommy naps" he insisted I take when I seemed even a little bit tired.
Mommy didn't need a nap -- she needed a man, the one on the other side of the bathroom door, drying off muscles she should have already been licking a good hour ago.
Still pacing, I heard the door open.
"Love, what's wrong?" At my side immediately, Collin gently placed his hand against the curve of my stomach. His pupils dilated with his concern, deflating my irritation.
I cupped my hand against his cheek and shook my head.
He wasn't buying it. He pulled my hand down from where I stroked his jaw and grabbed my shoulders. "Is this about the foal?"
"No." Even Ray had agree
d I needed to stay back. The mare had been too high spirited, at least in the beginning. They had to turn the foal before the delivery was over, knocking all the wind out of the mare's sails by the time they pulled the foal from her.
"It's the other things," I whispered as Collin led me toward the bed.
He kissed just below my ear, the pressure and duration too platonic to satisfy me. Dressed as I was, he should have known to kiss me harder. I had changed into a long, white peignoir, its front secured only by a series of strategically tied silk ribbons. Semi-opaque, the fabric showed the blush of my nipples and the dark shadow between my thighs that signaled the absence of any panties.
"I thought pregnant women liked being spoiled?" Collin's fingers trailed along the developing baby bump of my already plump stomach.
They also liked being fucked, I thought -- at least if the heat and tension thrumming through my lower torso were good indicators. I buried my face against his neck. It didn't matter that I understood the psychological reasons behind why he had turned from an ardent husband of almost a year into my 24/7 concierge service.
"Spoiled, yes," I sighed. "Cloistered, no."
Shackled to the bed, would have garnered a "hell yes," especially with a feather or tongue running up my thigh.
Feeling the heat low in my gut intensify, I snuggled closer to Collin.
"Love..."
Ugh -- I did not want to hear that tone. That was the "get off the ladder, baby" tone, the "it's time for a mommy nap" tone. I wanted the "let me fuck you until you pass out" tone.
I mumbled something cranky at him but snuggled closer. He had left the bathroom in silk pajama pants and nothing more. My fingers played over his hard, muscled stomach with the same light touch he used against me. Angling my face up, I took a small lick on the underside of his chin. Thighs clenching with need, I kissed the hollow I had just licked and flattened the palm of my hand against his lower belly.
His breathing altered, but not his will.
"Honey--"
"Oh!" I hit at his chest. "Don't you honey me, Collin Stark!"
A word like that, so complacent, shouldn't come up for at least two years. Not even then!
"Shhhh, love." He guided me onto my back, kissing the spot on my neck that I had just explored on his. He stroked his fingers up my arm, along my neck and around my ear. When he spoke again, emotion clogged his throat. "It's just..."
"I know," I whispered. I would cry if we came right out and talked about it. "But Dr. Brady says I'm healthy and it's okay all through the first two trimesters."
His hand moved to stroke at my collarbone and I felt him harden against my hip. But he had stroked me more intimately and hardened any number of times against me in the last month before the night ended in nothing more than tender cuddling and me biting my lip to keep from bludgeoning him.
"She says a happy mother means a healthy baby," I pressed. Hearing disbelief in the way he breathed in, I tried to sit up.
He wouldn't let me.
"I'm serious." I elbowed him. "I told her how gigantic you are and everything."
"Mia...you didn't?"
I giggled at how shocked he sounded. A year and a half in Keeling had turned Collin Stark almost provincial. Not in the bedroom, though -- at least not until a month ago. I cleared my throat and let him off the hook -- mostly.
"I said you were more impressive than most men in all ways." I squirmed closer toward him but couldn't find that hard length of maleness that had pressed against my hip a minute before. "When she was done licking her lips, she said it was still safe as long as things weren't too rough."
My little joke didn't mollify him, didn't even earn me a chuckle, so I switched tactics.
"Please," I wheedled. "You don't know what all these hormones are like. I swear I'm going to go insane."
I looked to find the blue eyes smiling at me. He blinked, laughing at the same time, then drew me off the bed toward the oversized chair by the fireplace. He put a pillow on the chair to cushion my lower back then sat me down.
"Let me take care of you, love."
Horny and hormonal, tears splashed against my cheeks. I pushed clumsily at his shoulder. "I want you in me, Collin. I'm serious."
He shushed me, his fingers untying the ladder of satin ribbons as his mouth brushed against the sheer fabric covering my breasts. My nipples, already tight, puckered to full attention. He sucked one through the chiffon as the last ribbon tie surrendered to his touch. He pushed the panels of the gown to the side, leaving the front of my torso exposed.
"Always so beautiful, love." Sucking my nipple into his mouth once more, his fingers found my hot core. He groaned, the tips dipping just inside me before running a slick line up my sex.
"And wet." He rasped the amendment, his teeth grazing my breast before he moved to the opposite nipple.
My fingers knotted in his hair and I started to squirm on the seat. The way his fingers played my pussy, he would have me soaking the cushion before I got my first taste of him. I whimpered then squirmed a little more as I squeezed in an attempt to draw his fingers into me.
He moaned, then shook his head free of my hands so he could kiss his way over my stomach then down to the juncture of my thighs.
Oh, yes -- I missed his lips there, grew wetter at the anticipation of him placing them against the swollen sheath of my clit, his tongue ferreting out the small pearl buried inside it. I arched, breasts lifting as he blew cold air against my feverish flesh.
"Drenched, love."
Of course I was drenched! It had been a month. Growling, I pushed my mound forward and pressed down on the crown of his head.
"Please," I whimpered.
He slid three fingers into me, just the tips but it was enough to make my neck snap back and my eyes roll up in delirium. When his lips finally made contact, a shuddering groan rolled through me. In and out, the fingertips moved in a shallow dance, their gentle penetration magnifying my appetite for his cock even as he had me on the verge of climaxing.
I lifted, rocked, my legs splaying wider. I reached between my thighs, holding myself open for him as he gnawed and licked at my clit and the hard little trigger hidden inside its hood. I cried out, cream seeping and squelching around his fingers.
"Yes!" I lifted, gasping, my whole body trembling as my climax slammed through me. I cried again, high and keening as I called his name.
He slowed, bringing me gently down, letting the small aftershocks wring more pleasure from my body as he licked slower and lightly rimmed the opening to my pussy.
Grabbing handfuls of his hair, I forced him up. Seeing the thick bulge at the front of his pajama pants, I jerked the fabric down his lean hips. His cock sprang forward. I wrapped my lips around the tip and my fingers around the shaft while my other hand dropped lower to cradle his heavy balls.
He thought me beautiful. I didn't have any words to describe him. His body had added scars while saving me from Evan and more before that in exorcising his grief in Dubai. But the pale white lines and divots were like an artisan's etchings on hard, polished brass. Looking up at him, I swirled my tongue around the head of his erection and let my gaze tell him how magnificent I found him to be.
Collin shook his head, his blinks coming more rapidly. He chewed at his bottom lip, the muscles of his stomach rolling as he sought to control the pressure building inside his balls.
"Baby, I'm going to explode inside that sweet mouth if you don't stop."
He wasn't lying. A thick stream of pre-cum already seeped from the head, coating my tongue and throat with his masculine tang. My lips sealed around the tip as I tried to deny him his control.
"Now, momma--"
His cock popped free of my mouth and I looked up at him, my gaze wide. The word and tone had shocked me, just as he meant them to. It had sounded so old. So very, very old. I pouted until he smiled and drew me up from the chair.
"I had to make you let go, love," he soothed as he led me back to bed. "You want me in you."
"Yes," I breathed. Already my muscles had started a fresh dance, everything knotting and coiling around itself now that he had stopped stroking me down there.
He stripped the peignoir the rest of the way from my body, the fabric pooling at my feet before he lifted me onto the bed. His hips settled between my spread thighs as he nuzzled my neck. His hand reached between our bodies, the fingers seeking out the entrance to my cunt once more. He probed, slowly and more deeply than he had on the chair. He stretched, twisted gently, his gaze earnest on my face to make sure his touch brought only pleasure.
"Please," I begged. My fingers pushed down at his cock, guiding him toward the spot his fingers possessed. He felt thicker, more swollen than I remembered, the size wringing a needy whimper from my throat.
"Here, love." His fingers gently brushed mine aside as he took control of his shaft. He centered the head against my entrance. His hips rotated, each completed circle pushing the fat tip deeper into me until the head was all the way inside.
My cunt sealed around it. He stopped, gave me time to adjust before he pushed a little deeper. His hips rotated again, the circles kept oh-so-tight. At the apex of each rotation, the crown rubbed at a sweet spot.
My nails dented his back and I sucked a hard breath in. He stopped all movement except for the rub of his cock at that one point. Firm, insistent but gentle. My nails pressed harder. I gasped, my throat too tight from pleasure to do any real breathing.
Eyes closed, lips parted, Collin's head dipped down as he concentrated. He licked his lips, I licked mine in turn, the sight of his tongue sending a sizzle of electricity across the tips of my nipples. Another tremor passed through me, my legs and fingertips tingling from how tightly I held my muscles.
Collin claimed the spot over and over. My ass lifted off the mattress; my back arched. I cried his name, a manic, madwoman as my hips ground against his, my clit trapped between my labia, sliding up and down and to each side as we moved against one another.
