Sweetest Mistake

by Candis Terry

  The tree house.

  He should have known she’d come here.

  Something must be on her mind for her to have taken off like that. Hopefully, it didn’t involve the sudden attention Jesse had been paying her.

  Ranger had barely come to a halt before Jackson was out of the saddle and climbing the wooden ladder.

  “Abby!”

  When he reached the deck, the door was closed. He turned the handle. Pushed it open. “Abby, what the hell—”

  His words died on complete and utter surprise.

  In the center of the room, with the late-afternoon sunshine pouring through the windows and bathing her in a golden glow, Abby stood with her hair down and the long, loose curls draped over her shoulders in a wild, sexy tangle. Her cheeks were flushed from the ride. Her boots were gone, and bare, pink-painted toenails peeked out from beneath her jeans.

  Her hands slowly unbuttoned her cotton blouse and inch by inch revealed a lacy white bra with scalloped edges that looked like flower petals. His fingers itched to pluck those soft edges away and expose the satiny skin beneath.

  Maintaining direct eye contact with him, she shrugged the blouse from her shoulders and let it sail to the floor while he stood there motionless. Afraid to move for fear the fantasy would evaporate.

  “What are you doing?” Yeah, probably the lamest question he’d ever asked in his life. Especially since he really didn’t care what she was doing as long as she kept doing it.

  “Taking my clothes off.”

  “I can see that.”

  She tilted her head and smiled. “Then why’d you ask?”

  He shrugged. “Seemed the right thing to do.”

  Her hands skimmed down the tight, flat plane of her belly to her zipper. On a slow slide, the jeans that fit snug to her hips and thighs slipped to the floor. She stepped out of them and kicked them off. While his tongue practically unfurled from his mouth, she stood in front of him wearing a pair of see-thru panties where only a little patch of heart-shaped lace covered her crotch.

  She looked like a Victoria’s Secret angel minus the wings.

  And still, he remained motionless.

  Frozen.

  Turned on to the point where he felt the need to reach down and grab hold of himself to relieve the ache.

  Somehow, by the love of God or some other sane deity flying around the universe, he managed to drag his gaze back up to her face. “You going swimming or something?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re what, just going to stand around looking fantastic in your underwear?”

  She chuckled and the sound sent a tickle through his chest. She came closer, reached out, and settled her hand on his chest.

  Her touch sent a shiver down his back that wrapped around his waist and reached down into his loins. He clenched his fists, wanting to reach for her and give his damned racing heart a real reason to pound. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the damned vow to keep his hands, lips, and all other body parts to himself. Tried to evoke the promise he’d coaxed from her to never allow him to touch her again.

  Wait.

  She was the one currently doing the touching.

  He opened his eyes and found a smile lifting the corners of her luscious lips.

  Had she actually made the promise?

  He couldn’t remember. He’d been so tied up in his need for her, his ears must have gone deaf.

  All he wanted right now was for that soft hand with the pretty pink fingernails to slide south until it eased the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. He’d told her not to let him touch her again. So how wrong of him was it to stand there and just . . . let her do the touching?

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t follow me,” she said.

  “You knew I would.” To his own ears, his voice sounded rough. Strained. Barely contained.

  “Did I?” Her head tilted, and somehow her eyes turned a deeper shade of blue. Flecks of silver danced through their centers. “Other than you’ve been teasing and taunting me, I really don’t know much about you anymore. It’s been such a long time.”

  Both her hands were on his chest now, flattened against his pounding heart. She moved closer, leaned in, and brought her sweet scent with her. His damned foolish heart kicked up another notch.

  “Maybe it’s time we really got reacquainted,” she whispered. Kissed his beard-stubbled jaw. And let those magical hands roam over his chest. “No more quick, confusing kisses.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He managed not to groan when her soft lips trailed kisses down one side of his neck, and her fingertips caressed the other.

  “Don’t you?”

  What the hell was with all the questions he couldn’t seem to answer?

  “Abby, I—”

  She shushed him with little more than a breath of air. Then she lifted to her toes and looked into his eyes. “Rhetorical question.”

  Damn, he couldn’t focus. Not when her breasts were pressed against his chest, and all his normal thinking had shot into his pants.

  She brushed her lips over his again, and the heady shock of it sent pleasure pinging through his body like the steel ball in an arcade game. He was trying to be good. Trying to stick to the rules. Trying so hard that he felt like he would shatter in millions of unfulfilled fragments.

  He should tell her to put her clothes back on, get on her horse, and head home.

  Good thing he didn’t consider himself a stupid man.

  “You smell so good,” she murmured while she nuzzled his collarbone. “Taste even better.” Her fingers threaded through his hair and drew his head down. She looked into his eyes.

  “And don’t worry. You don’t have to break the promise. I don’t mind doing all the touching.” Her lips brushed the corners of his mouth in agonizing slow motion, then came full center. Her teeth skimmed his lower lip, gently nipped, and she slid her tongue across to soothe the flesh. That delicate taste did nothing to ease the feral need clawing him from the inside out.

  To his utter amazement, he managed to stand still while she slipped her tongue between his lips and with slow, tantalizing measures, played a wicked game of hide-and-seek inside his mouth. He maintained control when her hands roamed his back, and even when they cupped his ass and drew him closer. But when she leaned in more and sighed into the kiss, the sound traveled through every cell, along every nerve ending, and lit him up like a three-alarm blaze.

  His control snapped.

  He kicked the door closed.

  Reached for her.

  Pulled her hard against him so that her erect nipples pressed into his chest.

  “Game over, sugar.”

  Abby lost her breath as he backed her toward the wall and took complete control. She lost herself in the frenzy of his touch. His taste. His scent. His powerful, primitive maleness.

  As they kissed, he explored—sliding his palms down her sides to her waist and the curve of her hips. One hand came back up to cup the weight of her breast. Above the lace fabric, his strong fingers rolled and tested her hardened nipple.

  “I tried to be good,” he rasped against her mouth.

  “Mmmm.” She nipped his bottom lip, then gently sucked it into her mouth. “I like you better when you’re bad.”

  He flashed a devilish smile. “How bad?”

  She lowered her hand to the front of his zipper and pressed her palm against his long, thick erection. “Breaking-all-the-rules bad.”

  “Every single one of them?” He kissed the side of her neck just beneath her ear. A responding chill tickled low in her abdomen.

  She gave him a squeeze, and beneath her fingers, his cock jumped. Then she reached for the top button on his shirt. Pop.

  “Every.” Pop.

  “Single.” Pop.

  “One.” The remaining buttons popped open in quick succession, and she pushed the shirt down his arms. Let her gaze slide over his smooth, tanned shoulders and broad chest. Let her fingers play ov
er the mouthwatering ripples of muscle down his stomach. Her fingers trailed over to the tattoo encircling his left biceps. “Nice.”

  He tore his gaze from her mouth and glanced down at his arm. “Crossed fireman axes.”

  “Mmmm. Makes me want to lick you all over.” She smoothed her hands over his chest. Liquid heat flooded her veins—opened up the emotions and desires she’d tried to keep tamed.

  “How about if I start here.” Leaning in, she gave a lazy lick across his flat nipple and smiled as it hardened against her tongue. His long moan encouraged her, and she moved to the other side. Just when she thought she’d regained control of the situation, he curved his big hands beneath her bottom and lifted her. While he kissed her, sliding his slick tongue against her own, she wrapped her legs around his hips. With her back against the wall, the heat and pressure of his erection against her core sent a dart of urgency through her blood.

  He drew his head back and looked at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just thought you should know that I plan to touch you . . .” With her wrapped in his arms, he turned, knelt, and gently laid her on the rug. As he leaned over her, she trailed her hand down his smooth chest to his buckle. Before she could make progress, he drew her hands away, pinned them beside her head, and lowered his forehead to hers. “All over.”

  Yes. Please. “I thought I was going to do all the touching.”

  Gaze intense, he slowly shook his head. “My turn.”

  As promised, he ran the backs of his fingers down her bare stomach. Goose bumps pebbled on her flesh. He braced himself on his elbows, leaned in, and used his warm, slick tongue to discover those places that made her shiver and moan.

  Outside, the woods were alive with the sounds of wildlife, water spilling over rocks and sand. The rustle of a breeze whispered through the tall grass. Inside, there were only moans, sighs, and an occasional “Oh my God.”

  In the heat of soft touches and tender strokes, he unhooked her bra and tossed it over his shoulder. His eager hands and his work-roughened fingertips made her come alive. As he circled the pads of his fingers over her nipples, his touch was almost a tease—until he leaned in for a taste.

  Then things got serious.

  With the tips of his fingers, he traced a gentle path across her pubic bone, down the crease of her thigh, back up and down the other side. With each pass, he came closer to her core until his fingers teased right over the surface of the lace, now soaked with desire. Then his fingers slipped beneath the elastic, gently parted her, and skimmed over her throbbing bud.

  Her fingers dug into his arms, and she arched against his hand, trying to intensify the pleasure. He’d always been a man of action, and he acted then, smiling at her gasp as he slid first one, then two fingers deep into her core.

  She was on fire. Hot. Needy. And wet.

  “Clothes off,” she panted when those clever fingers began a deliberate in-and-out, swirling stroke that heightened her pleasure.

  Obliging, he hooked his fingers into the lace band holding her panties together and slid the fabric down her legs. Unfortunately, that meant he left all the tingling nerves in her clitoris raw and swollen and aching for his return.

  “Now yours,” she said in a voice that sounded a little intense and a whole lot desperate.

  A foil packet appeared, was torn open, and his pants and boxer briefs sailed to the floor. He moved over her. Slid his hands up her thighs, her belly, and over her breasts. She arched, and desire dripped like lava through her veins as he sucked one swollen nipple into his mouth, glided his tongue along the crest, and gave it a gentle pull with his lips.

  And then they were face-to-face.

  Skin to skin.

  He settled between her thighs. Rubbed the thick swollen head of his penis between her slick folds. Against her tingling core. Teasing. Tempting.

  “Don’t make me beg,” she moaned, but knew she would if he wanted.

  They locked eyes.

  “Never.”

  He kissed her. His tongue danced over hers, then he took control by smoothly sucking her tongue into his mouth and sending an electrical shock down through her heart and between her legs. He positioned his hands beneath her butt and tilted her hips. Then he slid inside her, hard and deep.

  She sighed. Felt the power of their unity all the way to her soul. Nothing had ever felt this good.

  Once he was fully inside, he pulled her tight against him, rotated his hips, then paused. He lowered his forehead to hers, closed his eyes, and moaned.

  The satisfaction on his face told her everything she needed to know.

  He was savoring it.

  Taking pleasure in the moment.

  The union.

  For a man known for his rush to respond in emergency situations, when it came to making love, he took his time. Let it seep into his soul. And he would make sure she left his arms fully sated and with a smile on her face.

  When he began to move again, it started like the slow climb to the peak of a roller-coaster ride. His hands gripped her butt, his strong fingers claimed control and added an extra surge of pleasure. They took their time and celebrated each other’s bodies. They moved together with increased hunger. Tension wound low and tight as his hips moved faster, his thrusts sank deeper.

  “God, Abby. You feel so damned good.”

  “I can feel even better.”

  “I honestly don’t know how.”

  His next thrust came hard and deep. She constricted her core muscles, gripped him tight, and swirled her hips.

  “Oh, damn.” He groaned.

  While she thanked Cosmo magazine for that slick move, he lowered his face into the crook of her neck and shifted into an out-of-control pounding pleasure until they came together in a breath-stealing explosion that left both of them gasping for air.

  Beneath the rafters and the long, sweeping branches of the live oaks surrounding the tree house, Abby lay nestled into the crook of Jackson’s shoulder, her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat return to normal. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, and he held her close.

  At that moment or any other in time, there was no place else she’d rather be. He let go a long sigh, drew her in closer, and kissed the top of her head. She allowed contentment to settle into her soul.

  Somehow, they’d found each other again. In those quiet moments of listening to the birds chirp outside and the rush of the water flow through the creek, she allowed herself to be hopeful. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Beneath her palm his heartbeat tripped, then charged into overdrive.

  “I’m glad we got that out of our systems,” he said.

  What?

  Her eyes popped open. Every ounce of calm, harmony, and hope she’d felt just moments before, shattered. Air propelled through her lungs sharp as razors.

  “Did we?” She angled her head to look up at him. She didn’t know about him, but to her what they’d just shared had been phenomenal, and she’d be damned willing to do it again. Right now.

  Eyes closed, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  Disappointment sank deep into her heart.

  He was pushing her away.

  Again.

  Just as he had after their junior prom. Just as he had the night before he’d gone off to war.

  A case of old habits die hard? Or just the way he expected—wanted—things to be between them?

  Didn’t matter. It hurt like hell.

  “So . . . what,” she said. “Now we just go back to being friends? No kissing? No touching?”

  “Sure.”

  Sure?

  What the hell kind of response was that?

  “That didn’t work very well before,” she reminded him as she sat up and reached for her clothes.

  “That was then. This is now.”

  Buttoning her blouse, she turned to find him now standing as well, with his unzipped jeans hanging low over his lean hips. He bent and snapped his shirt up off the floo
r.

  “So this meant . . . nothing?” God, she sounded pathetic.

  His silence spoke louder than words. Add that to the fact that he couldn’t look her in the eye, and you had what added up to be a monumental lie he couldn’t even voice.

  “Just to clarify. This . . .” Her hands waved through the air between them. “Was just us using each other to get it out of our systems?”

  For a man who exuded alpha, he seemed awfully interested in zipping up his pants.

  “Maybe.”

  She called bullshit. But apparently he wasn’t going to back down. And she certainly wasn’t going to beg. So really, he left her with only one thing she could do.

  Prove him wrong.

  Call his bluff.

  “Well,” she said, pulling on her boots and conjuring up some acting skills she’d hoped never to use again, “that’s a relief.”

  Pants zipped, his head snapped up. “What?”

  “Because now you’re out of my system too.” She forced a smile.

  “I am?”

  Obviously, he missed the part about the street traveling in two directions. She could be wrong about his feelings, but it was worth the risk to push that proverbial envelope.

  He was worth the risk.

  She’d walked away once without giving everything her best effort. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  They might not be having the conversation she’d expected to have, but sometimes actions spoke louder. And she planned to take a full-on “I am woman, hear me roar” approach.

  “Sure.” She zinged him with his own lame response. “Isn’t that great? With all that drama off my chest and you out of my system, I can really start living my new life.”

  Dark brows pulled together over narrowed blue eyes. He looked so befuddled, she wanted to pinch his cheeks.

  “Which means what exactly?”

  “What almost every thirty-one-year-old woman is looking for—a new career, new man, new . . . everything.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Jackson.”

  As she climbed down the ladder and headed toward her horse, an F-bomb raised the tree-house roof.

  She smiled.

  Game on, bucko.

  Moron.

  There were times in his life when Jackson thought he was a pretty with-it guy. Chasing down wayward steers. Fighting fires. Taking down the enemy.