“God, Bethany,” he gasped.
Good. I want to make you crazy.
She pushed him onto his back. Her lips found one of his nipples. He had sensitive nipples, and she intended to determine whether or not they were still in good working order. From the way he arched his back and grabbed her head, pressing her mouth to him, she guessed all was exactly as she’d left it five years ago. The loud moan was a good indicator as well. As she flicked the tip of her tongue up and down, she decided she’d deal with the consequences of this—whatever this turned out to be. The way her hormones were staging their own Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in all of her pink parts, this was going to be it.
Beth lifted her head to look at Finn’s face, careful not to bump his cast. Both of them were breathing harder now. Beth bit her lip, then slowly, slowly leaned in and kissed his lips, taking the lower one between her teeth. He moaned against her mouth. She ran her tongue along his upper lip, just grazing it. Then she retreated so she could see his face again. He was a happy boy. And she was about to make him happier. She smiled slowly and watched his eyes. She knew that look. It was his patented I’m going to give you thirty orgasms in a row look.
She adjusted her position and balance and slid her hands down the sides of his torso to his boxers. She removed them carefully, mindful of his cast.
He was naked. His body still begged to be sculpted in marble and put on a pedestal. The tip of her tongue caressed her upper lip as she sent him the hottest look she could muster. She positioned herself between his legs and took him into her mouth, reveling in the silky heat of him. Her eyes closed as she remembered exactly how he tasted. How she wanted to please him. How she wanted to do this for herself, to quell the ache in her own body. She did everything she remembered he liked. The speed, the rhythm, where he liked her to lick. It was effortless. It was filthy. It was so damn good.
Finn—who sounded like he might need a ventilator soon—closed his fingers around her shoulders and lifted. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “Oh, Bethany.” Beth rose and sat back on her heels. He slid his hands under the hem of her T-shirt, and she quickly maneuvered out of it. His fingers, which still held some impressive calluses, went right to her nipples. He wasn’t wasting any time. He pinched and rubbed until she shuddered and her breathing became little gasps. He had always known how to devastate her. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and yanked. She jumped off the bed to finish the job, taking her panties off as well.
She was naked with Finn. She stood for a few seconds, looking at him, her ex-husband and his beefcake body. The scars on his hands and thigh. Her own body felt like it was vibrating and she was beyond aroused. She was wet and needy and they were about to do something they’d done hundreds of times before.
So why was she trembling? He must’ve seen it, too, because as she climbed back into his bed and straddled him, he looked at her with his eyebrows slammed together.
“Honey, are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“I know. I—”
She took him in her hand and guided him inside her, lowering herself in one movement. She closed her eyes. It was as though time had stood still and their time apart evaporated in an instant. She remembered exactly how this felt. He held on to her hips as she rode him in a relentless, rolling canter, their bodies reading each other, speeding up, slowing down, but always building, building, building.
He moaned and so did she. “Oh, Finn,” she whispered.
“Babe,” he said. “You’re so perfect. You’re so wet. Here.” He reached between her legs and massaged her with one finger, knowing this would send her over. Beth opened her eyes and gazed at him. She was lost, deliriously so, but she wanted to anchor her eyes to his. He increased the pressure with his finger. He stroked her faster. She matched his pace with her hips. The heat in her body was focusing to a laser point between her legs, right where her ex-husband was touching her. It was so intense, it bordered on painful, but she needed it. Oh, she craved it.
He said, “Come on, babe. Come for me.”
And sent her into the atmosphere.
She exploded around him, then he followed suit, groaning loudly. He was completely inside her as their bodies went ballistic, shaking and tightening in the primal dance they were built to perform. All thought was swept away in a tsunami of sensation. She felt drunk and airborne and free.
Long moments later, as she lay on top of him, Finn framed her face in his hands. He held her there and simply gazed at her with a look she couldn’t define. There was tenderness in those darkened blue eyes, but another layer as well. This was the man who still loved her, she reminded herself. Her ex-husband who still loved her. Her ex-husband whom she had sort-of kind-of just seduced. What was she getting herself into?
She decided to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and not think about that now. Why ruin a perfectly wonderful postcoital moment with pesky consequences?
He caressed her cheekbones with his thumbs. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. She closed her eyes and focused on his hypnotic, feathery touch. When she opened her eyes, he was still gazing at her as though her face was a blueprint for a building he would build himself. He was still inside her. They were connected in this most intimate way. She circled his wrists with her hands, but he still didn’t move them. Her heart was flooded with a warm, white light.
She licked her lips. Finn was obviously stunned. Was this too much exertion? Had the doctor said anything about sex? The doctor couldn’t have known what Finn was like in the sack.
She sat up, straddling him. “Does your leg hurt?”
He rested his hands on top of her thighs. “Not at all.” He shook his head dreamily. “Do yours?”
She laughed. “Not my legs. Although I might have trouble walking.”
Now he laughed.
“Do you need anything?”
“More.” He touched her sternum between her breasts with his index finger. “You.”
Oh my, Finn.
She smiled. He let his fingers dance over her breasts, teasing and tracing their curves. Her nipples puckered and she shivered.
“I’d love to,” she said, “But you need your sleep. You’re recovering from a major trauma. This might not have been the best idea. Healthwise, I mean. You know?”
She switched to her get-the-students-to-the-show-on-time voice. “Time to hit the hay.” She disembarked from him and the bed as though dismounting a horse.
He caught her hand before she stepped away from the bed and raised it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with his lips. Then he patted the space on the bed next to him, inviting her. “There’s room here. Me and my plaster friend would love to have you.”
“If that’s your idea of a three-way, count me out.”
He laughed. “Come on, Bethany. You need your rest, too. And I’d sleep better if you were here.”
“Oh no you don’t. I’d be terrified I’d bump you in my sleep. I’ll be up at the house.” She bit the skin on the inside of her lip. Then she sighed, pressed her lips to his forehead, and kissed him.
“Good night. Sleep now.”
“No,” he murmured. “Here.” With a fingertip, he guided her lips to his and kissed her, soft as a moonbeam.
Beth needed to get out of there soon or she’d take him up on his invitation. She used the bathroom, turned off the light, and collected Mingo.
Once she was at the door, Finn said, “Good night, Bethany. Sweet dreams.”
“ ’Night. See you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
She didn’t answer. Walking up the drive, she realized she hadn’t used any protection. She hadn’t even thought about it. Crap. But she should be okay. Again, she couldn’t think about that now. She wouldn’t think about any of this now.
After all, tomorrow is another day.
Finn lay in the inky dark of the mountain home. His body was fatigued from s
ex. Spectacular sex. Spectacular Bethany sex. He wished he’d been able to move more easily, but even with his body operating at 60 percent capacity, it had been amazing, thanks to the woman he loved. He was drifting, unsure if he was awake or asleep. But he was sure he wanted her in his bed again. He didn’t love having a broken leg, but if he hadn’t, Bethany wouldn’t have made love with him. Right now, it was worth every bit of the pain and inconvenience.
The next morning Finn woke at nine—late for him—thinking Percocet. For the first time since the accident he’d slept through the night—better sleeping through sex!—and was overdue for his pain-extinguishing pharmaceutical. He hoisted himself out of bed and groaned at the startling pain in his leg.
He took the Percocet, brushed his teeth, and ruminated the whole time.
Bethany.
He wanted Bethany. He wanted an encore of last night. He wanted to do better by her. He’d been so shocked when she’d leapt into his bed, he hadn’t been a very good lover. He wanted to show her what he could do for her, bum leg and all. Mostly, though, he wanted to be with her and listen to her. He liked how she could make him forget about his leg. Maybe later today . . .
In the meantime, he could work. He’d been so out of it earlier in the week, he hadn’t been able to concentrate, not to mention he became nauseated if he looked at his laptop for more than ten minutes. It was what, Friday? Yeah, he needed to start catching up before he fell hopelessly behind, especially on the Mitchell Frederick project. It could literally take his business to the next level.
He might not know what to do about his personal life. He might not know if he wanted to marry Bethany again, although the more he was around her, the more the idea appealed to him.
“Was that on purpose?” Amanda asked, tongue firmly in cheek, as Beth cantered Brooke away from a four-foot vertical jump they had cleared. Barely. Beth had let Brooke come in too close to the fence and then the generous, talented mare executed a decidedly ungraceful hop to get over it.
Beth laughed. “Um, no. My bad.”
“You made her look like an antelope! You do realize that was a gift? She sure must love you,” Amanda said. “Another horse would have slammed on the brakes.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let me try it again.”
“Please!” Amanda said. “Do I have to make you count strides like a novice?”
“Keep your pants on, Vogel. I’ll get it this time.”
Beth piloted her big bay around the ring. It was spacious, with room for a full jumper course and cushy footing that was gentle on a horse’s joints and tendons. Amanda had set up just a few jumps for Beth’s lesson today. Beth came at the vertical again, this time paying more attention and taking more of a feel on the reins so she could rate Brooke’s stride and get her to the fence in a more balanced frame. It worked. Beth knew it was going to be a perfect jump three strides out. Brooke pricked her ears as she sighted the fence, then powered over it from the ideal distance, tucking her front legs and soaring.
“Thank God!” Amanda said, and laughed. “I thought I’d have to set up some nice six-inch crossrails for you. Since that was so gorgeous—and it was, she has really come along—let’s quit there.”
Beth walked Brooke for fifteen minutes to cool her out, untacked her, rinsed off the sweat, washed her with Vetrolin and water, squeegeed her, and turned her out into the pasture. Beth loved the ease of taking care of a horse in the summer, when she didn’t have to deal with blankets or clipping winter coats. When she was done, she went to the house to join Amanda for lunch. She wondered—idly, she told herself—if Finn would be there.
He wasn’t. Beth, still in her breeches and paddock boots, joined Amanda on the patio. Harris was going to eat with them as well, having turned down a lunch outing with Grady, Solstice, and Wave to the Woody Creek Tavern. Again. The girls would live there if they could, and they were always trying to get someone to take them. They had even conned poor Ellis a few weeks ago.
Beth, Amanda, and Harris sat at the big table where they’d had dinner the night before. This time Harris provided a spread of sandwich fare, including turkey, ham, roast beef, bacon, various cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, condiments, and breads.
Harris had warned Amanda earlier. “I don’t have time to make you a fancy French Laundry lunch. I have things to do.”
“It’s just Beth and me. You don’t have to do anything. We can get our own lunch.”
“Oh no. You never put things back where they belong.”
“I do so!”
“Missy, don’t start with me. My life hasn’t been the same since you lost my Williams-Sonoma garlic press.”
“Who uses a garlic press for a sandwich?”
“So,” Amanda said to Beth as she assembled her sandwich. “What’s up? You’re all smiles today.”
“It’s Jack, isn’t it?” Harris asked. “I’ve been smiling, and I didn’t have him one-on-one like you did.”
“You make that sound so dirty,” Beth said.
“Thank you!” Harris nodded.
“Jack gave me a lot of good ideas and said he’d keep helping me. He also said he wouldn’t take any money—that it was a favor to Grady—but I can’t do that. I have to pay him.”
Harris said, “There are many ways to pay a man.”
“Actually . . .” Beth said, as she spread homemade mayo on a slice of sourdough, “I . . . uh . . . might have paid Finn last night.”
“What?” Amanda and Harris said simultaneously.
Beth related the tale of her and Finn’s argument over Jack and their subsequent roll in the hay.
“Ha!” Amanda said. “I’m right! You are still in love with him!”
“Oh, honey,” Harris said to Amanda. “Not everyone’s like you and has to have all that romance. She might have just enjoyed it for what it was—pure lust.” Then to Beth, “Was it hot? I’ve never had broken-leg sex, and I’ve had all kinds of sex,” Harris said.
“It was hot,” Beth said. “It was incredible. And not just the sex—sorry, Harris—but it was . . . sweet, too. He was really, really sweet. He was the old Finn. The one I fell in love with.”
“Oh boy.” Amanda put her head in her hands, and then looked at Beth with her big-sister face. “Are you okay?”
Harris said, “How could she not be, getting serviced by that hunka hunka burnin’ love?”
Beth chortled. “I’m not a brood mare!” She looked at Amanda and sighed. “I’m fine. I started it. I’m not sure what got into me, but I’m fine.”
“Got into you?” Harris asked, eyes gleaming.
Amanda said to Beth, “Ignore him. Go on.”
“Do you think we can keep doing it? Then go our separate ways when he feels better?”
“Exes with benefits?” Harris asked.
“Is that what you want?” Amanda asked.
“We’d keep it casual and friendly,” Beth said.
“You’re not going to let feelings creep in?” Amanda sounded skeptical.
Harris said, “This could help his healing. Florence Nightingale had sex with lots of injured soldiers.”
Amanda made a face. “She did not.”
Harris said, “Nevertheless, I’m sure that throughout history, plenty of the stricken have been aided in their time of need by a come-on from a comely angel of compassion such as yourself.” Harris nodded to Beth. “If not, why would they make those sexy nurse costumes? I say go for it. Life is short.”
“What do you want?” Amanda asked again. “Just sex? Do you think you two can be merely physical, given your history? Or do you want to be with him again? Have things changed between you two?”
Beth finished chewing the bite she had just taken. Amanda had just posed the gazillion-dollar question and Beth didn’t know her answer. She needed more time. For Scarlett O’Hara, tomorrow had arrived. She pursed her lips. “Since the accide
nt, we haven’t talked about our . . . issues. I don’t know if our irreconcilable differences are reconcilable. Hell, I don’t even know if he’d be interested.”
“He still wants you,” Harris said.
“And loves you,” Amanda said.
“Oh my stars,” Harris said, looking at Amanda. “This is just like last summer with you and Brunzy.” He clasped his hands over his heart, looked heavenward, and gave a melodramatic delivery: “America wants to know—will these two wayward souls find love again in each other’s arms? Or will she break his heart to match his leg? Only time will tell.”
Beth said to Amanda, “Can I throw him in the pool?”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Absolutely.”
“Speaking of which, is the pool fixed?” Beth asked.
Amanda looked at the pool, frowning. “I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”
“Yesterday Jacqueline said they had to turn off the water because they were fixing the pool. I had to shower in the cottage.”
Amanda said, “I didn’t know about it, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Harris started to gather the plates. “Better get these inside. The bread dries out so quickly up here.”
Amanda smiled. “Harris?”
He kept bussing. She pressed on. “Did they turn off the water yesterday?”
He pierced both of them with an indignant stare and pursed his lips. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
Amanda smiled as she turned to Beth. “You were punked.”
“By Jacqueline?” Beth could hardly believe the sophisticated, no-nonsense assistant would ever do something so . . . un-French.
“She has a romantic streak a mile wide. It’s the French half. And Harris has been encouraging her.”
Harris spoke, “I can neither confirm nor deny that.” He wiggled his fingers at them. “Napkins, please.” He pretended to storm toward the house with dishes.
Amanda called after him, “It doesn’t work if we can hear you laughing!”
“Stir crazy” didn’t begin to describe Finn’s afternoon. If he thought it would’ve made him feel better, he would’ve pulled out his hair. He could work, but only in twenty-minute stints before a blazing headache would swamp him. His leg hurt less and he felt more alert, but the tradeoff was that he slept less and had more time to feel frustrated, courtesy of his limited mobility. He lay in the hammock behind the guesthouse for a while, but getting onto the thing with the heavy cast was death defying. He wanted Bethany there to keep him company. She could sit in the hot tub in a bathing suit . . . or her birthday suit. He was hungry, too. He hadn’t been hungry before because he’d been so doped up, but now he could eat a horse. He laughed—that wouldn’t go over well at Aspen Creek.
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