Wild Rain

by Donna Kauffman

  Her hands left his cheeks and trailed down to his chest. It was rock, living rock; hot and pulsing under her searching fingertips. She clutched at his shirt, pulling upward, needing, wanting, to have her hands on his bare skin.

  Reese yanked it over his head and claimed her mouth again. She let him. Tasted his desire for her as her hands felt it.

  His chest was sleek, hard, his skin molded tightly around every muscle. Her fingers charted it all, the sensations moving through them into her body. Her skin heated, her muscles grew languorous, and the most poignant ache tightened slowly between her legs.

  “Reese,” she whispered. It was part worshipful, part pleading.

  He bent lower, his mouth finding the side of her neck. “Sweet Jillian,” he breathed in her ear.

  Jillian opened her eyes, only then realizing they’d drifted shut. His chest filled her vision and she leaned into it, her mouth exploring the course her fingers had taken. Reese clutched her head in his hands but didn’t stop her as he leaned back against the wall, drawing her with him.

  She tasted the fine, crisp hairs that bisected his pectorals, then dropped small kisses on the swell of the muscle leading to his nipple. It was rigid, distended and begged to be tasted. She did. Reese bucked beneath her, a deep groan vibrating the skin beneath her cheek.

  She withdrew her tongue.

  “No,” he rasped. “Feels … wonderful.”

  She smiled against his chest, reveling in her newfound power to distract, to disarm. The idea that she was able to pleasure this man was heady stuff indeed. She let her tongue blaze a provocative trail across his chest to his other nipple, where she feasted again. She felt his hips rise against her stomach again and again, establishing a sinuous rhythm that seduced the muscles between her legs into relaxing and contracting in a similar primal beat.

  She was on fire, she was melting, she was exploding. She thought she might die before she figured out how to find that elusive thing which would satisfy this hunger, this craving, this need that pushed her, drove her, controlled her.

  Suddenly Reese’s hands were on her, tugging at her shirt. She felt the humid Florida air move across her skin, electrifying it. The feel of the cotton dragging across her breasts was wildly erotic, and she wanted it to go on and on. Then when the shirt was gone, she knew she wanted more. She wanted Reese on her. His hands, his mouth, his tongue.

  So demanding was the ache, she cupped her own breasts, seeking to ease the pain any way she could, as fast as she could.

  Reese groaned, and her gaze flew up to meet his. Her hands stilled, but when she began to move them, he stopped her.

  “Don’t. I have never seen … anything so … beautiful.” His voice was barely more than a gravelly rasp. His chest heaved as he devoured her with his electric blue gaze.

  Jillian had a sudden flash of insecurity. Her hands were small, yet they almost completely covered her breasts. A lifelong sense of inadequacy reared its threatening head, and she pleaded with him silently to help her past this barrier.

  “Drop your hands now, mite. Let me look at you.”

  She did. His eyes burned brighter, hotter. She hadn’t thought it possible. Just as she hadn’t thought the ache below her belly could grow more intense. She was wrong, deliciously wrong, on both counts.

  “Perfect pearls. That’s what they are, Jillian.”

  Her shoulders squared, her spine straightened, until what little flesh she possessed was pushed proudly toward him.

  In a dazed, erotic haze she saw Reese’s hands move lower. Her breathing became shallower as she awaited his touch.

  But his hands stopped at the snap to his jeans. She was riveted, her complete attention caught as he freed the shiny button.

  There was no mistaking that he was aroused. He was a big man, and apparently there was no exception to any part of him.

  “Can you see how you excite me, Jillian? Can you?” He lowered the zipper slowly, the teeth straining to hold together the taut denim covering his arousal.

  She nodded, feeling her throat go dry at the same time as her palms began to sweat. She wanted to touch him, to hold him. To feel that desire pulse in her hands, in vibrant, life-giving proof that his need was as strong and mighty as hers.

  Then he was bared for her to see. And he was glorious.

  TEN

  Jillian lifted her hands, then clenched them into fists at the last moment. She felt a sudden intense rush of intimidation.

  He leaned back against the wall, but the bright fire in his eyes belied his casual pose. “Take it, Jillian. Hold it. It’s like this because of you.”

  Her hands uncurled, and she reached for him. Hot, satiny, rigid, the skin so soft, yet it covered a hardness she’d never felt. He jerked in her hand. The muscles between her legs clenched in response.

  The counter he sat on was waist-high to her. All she had to do was bend her head, just slightly.

  “Yes. Go ahead. Please.”

  He tasted musky, sweet. And the mere knowledge that a part of him had entered her body—even her mouth—captivated her so fully, she could think of nothing else, was reduced to instinct and need.

  She tightened her lips and let her tongue stroke him. He surged against her, filling her until she couldn’t take any more. Never in her life had she felt this primal, never had her life been brought to such a simple common denominator. She wanted one thing. Above all else, including her next breath.

  And it wasn’t having him in her mouth.

  She slid her mouth slowly off of him and felt his shaking groan in every nook and cranny of her soul. It echoed deep inside her, matching her own.

  She lifted her head, knowing what she wanted, yet suddenly at a loss as how to get it. Her knees were locked against the trembling need that threatened to drive her to the floor. Her breasts ached … She needed, she needed …

  Her hands found him again as she stepped closer between his legs, until the edge of the counter pressed into the soft skin of her belly. Her breasts needed him, to feel his touch. She heard him gasp as she bent forward.

  When she brushed the tip of him across first one breast, then the other, they both moaned in unison.

  Slowly, her gaze traveled up across the ripples of muscle lining his abdomen, across the swell of his chest, to the rigid vein standing in stark, pulsating relief against the side of his neck, to his jaw, clenched, his beautiful mouth compressed, then finally to his eyes.

  And there she found everything she’d ever wanted.

  Her mouth opened, though she had no idea what she was going to say. She didn’t have to say anything.

  “Take off your pants.” The command was rough, uncivilized. And exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Without looking away, she complied. His jeans hit the floor just as hers did.

  The instant she was bare to him his hands uncurled from their white-knuckled grip on the counter’s edge. He leaned forward and clasped them around her hips.

  He lifted her easily, until her knees straddled him. She tried to keep from knocking against his bad leg, but his thighs were thickly muscled and … Any thought of his wound flew from her mind when she realized what he was about to do.

  She looked down between them, saw his rigid length straining toward her hips … hips that suddenly looked so narrow … too narrow.

  Her hands flew to his shoulders. She sunk her fingers into the dense muscle. “Reese!”

  “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”

  She locked her arms, leaning back from him as she sought reassurance in his face. “Have you ever … done this … with someone … like me?”

  He let his actions speak for him as he settled her on top of him. She felt him breach her, sinking her deliberately, easily, over the tip of him.

  He answered her slowly, his gaze solidly on her as he slid her down onto him. “I have never … done anything like this … with anyone … like you.”

  And then he was completely inside of her, so deep within her, filling her until she knew there w
asn’t a cell in her body that didn’t feel him. And it was wondrous, magnificent.

  “Relax, mite.” He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, not moving inside her.

  She knew the cost, felt it in the steel under her fingertips, the rocklike length of his thighs between her knees as he strained to keep his hips from thrusting.

  His breath was hot, the words he whispered in her ear, hotter. “Relax your knees.” His hands continued to hold her hips until he felt her muscles loosen. Only then did they drift upward to cover her breasts.

  She gasped and rocked forward. The motion thrust her hips down onto him, and a moan tore from her throat.

  Reese bucked up in automatic response, but he stilled almost immediately. His hands remained on her breasts. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she answered, as surprised as she was truthful. She focused her thoughts on relaxing like he’d asked, feeling him slide a bit farther into her. Her breath sucked in little gasps as he lifted his hips ever so slightly beneath her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, but she didn’t tense.

  His head dropped forward, and his mouth closed over one nipple. She moved on him. He groaned and thrust under her again, but kept his mouth on her. He spread hot wet kisses across her chest much like she had his, capturing her other nipple. This time she started rocking on him, and couldn’t stop.

  The tightly coiled need inside her started to slowly unwind. She’d found what she’d hunted for earlier. The answer to her elusive need. Her body took over, going after it with a single-minded intensity that sent any thought but completion spiraling away.

  Reese’s hands dropped back to her hips to hold her, to control the rhythm. He slowed her, and she fought against it.

  “Jillian, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Dammit, Reese, you’re killing me. Let go.”

  She tightened her knees, seeking to tighten the muscles inside of her. And then she found control over them. She clenched, he groaned. She moved, he followed. Her movements became wild, frenzied. She exulted in the sleek, powerful body under her that matched her thrust for thrust.

  Gloriously, shamelessly, she rode him.

  And he gave her the ride of her life.

  And then she was there. On the brink of discovery, of capturing that mysterious something she’d …

  Reese’s hand found her, she leaned into it. And exploded. A scream of release was wrenched from her throat as her whole world rose up in a sudden swirling vortex of sensation, and then suddenly everything burst as if tiny firecrackers had been attached to each and every nerve ending in her body and they’d all gone off at the same time.

  And in the center of the fiery explosion, Reese shouted her name and arched under her, finding his own release.

  Jillian collapsed against him, her chest heaving, skin damp, pulse pounding so loudly, she couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. She hadn’t gotten over feeling yet. Thinking was a concept she simply couldn’t realize.

  Reese lifted his hand to her head, smoothing the tangled strands of her short hair with fingers still trembling from what had just taken place between them.

  When he could, he cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. He’d meant to kiss her gently then hold her against his chest again. But he found he couldn’t leave her mouth. It was sweet and swollen, and he kept his lips gently on hers as their breathing slowed and their hearts gradually found their natural rhythms.

  Languor crept over him, filling his muscles with sweet lassitude. And still his mouth stayed on hers. He wanted her right here like this, forever.

  And then it hit him with the force as violent as the hurricane that had ripped apart her house.

  For the first time in his life, he’d had unprotected sex. Reese Braedon, the man who controlled every aspect of his life within his power never left something as easy and important as … that … up to fate.

  And he knew damn well she wasn’t using anything.

  He closed his eyes and let his mouth drift from hers down to nuzzle her neck. That’s when the second blow struck.

  Why in the hell was he still kissing her? Why wasn’t he panicking? Why wasn’t his mind instantly formulating all the ways to deal with this unplanned event.

  His mouth landed on her pulse. And the sweet pressure of her life beating against his lips brought him the answer.

  He wasn’t upset because … he wasn’t upset.

  Holy bloody hell.

  After a moment, Jillian shifted away from him. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, then leaned forward to drop a light kiss beside his ear. “Reese, this … I feel … we need …” She tried to pull away from him.

  His arms quickly circled her, holding her tightly to him. He turned his head so his mouth was against her ear. “No, don’t. I know we’ll have to talk about this. But not now, okay?”

  She didn’t squirm, but she didn’t settle back in his arms either. “Reese—”

  He sighed, not wanting it to get difficult yet. “Jillian, I imagine I’ll screw this up quickly enough as it is. Just let me …” He pulled in another breath, held it, then let it slip slowly past his lips. He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Just let me stay … inside you … like this … for a little while longer.”

  After what seemed like eons, he felt her relax. Joy, a fierce, unexpected sense of contentment filled him. He looked down at the top of her head and smiled. Never in his life would he imagine he’d be so damn lucky to be holding a woman like Jillian in his arms.

  He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen later. And there was always a later.

  Suddenly Jillian tensed again in his embrace. His first thought was denial. To rebel against it being over too soon.

  Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound that Jillian must have heard.

  A helicopter. Close. And getting closer.

  “Who in the hell would have a chopper here this soon?” Jillian asked, lifting her head from his chest.

  Reese had a sick feeling he knew exactly who it was.

  Reese managed to drag his pants on and locate his shirt fast enough to be only seconds behind Jillian. The instant she’d realized the helicopter was coming closer, she’d muttered, “Cleo,” and was off of him and dressed in a flash, then out the clinic door.

  Not exactly how he’d envisioned ending their interlude.

  Reese paused in the doorway, watching Jillian motion the chopper toward the front corner of the compound diagonally across from the pond and Cleo. It was the only place with enough free space to land the machine.

  It occurred to Reese as he limped across the littered grounds that instead of being disappointed about this sudden turn of events, he should be relieved. He was certain that Regina Ravensworth was in that helicopter, and equally certain that as soon as Jillian realized her mother had hired him, both of them would be politely invited to get the hell out of there.

  He watched Jillian step back as she watched the helicopter swoop in. The wind created by the rotors whipped her short hair around her head and rippled her T-shirt against her small frame.

  Yeah, relieved.

  No sticky good-byes, no unwanted entanglements. No clutter. Just how he liked it. How Jillian liked it too. They should both be downright ecstatic.

  So why was his heart pounding harder the closer he got to the slowly descending chopper? Why was there an ache tightening in the center of his chest that felt like it might strangle him? And why in the hell did he feel like nothing in his life had prepared him for what he was likely to endure in the next several minutes?

  He stopped several feet behind Jillian. He wasn’t even certain she knew he was there. Maybe that was just as well.

  No one descended from the helicopter until the rotors had slowed to a pace that no longer kicked up any wind. Then the small hatch door opened.

  Jillian took a step forward as the door inched open, but froze in midstride as the slender brunette stepped out and graciously allowed the pilot who’d scrambled aroun
d the front of the chopper to help her down.

  “Mother?”

  “Jillian, darling!”

  Reese watched as the older woman slid her silk scarf from her perfectly coiffed head and tucked it into her small shoulder bag. She was wearing a khaki-colored silk ensemble with razor sharp pleats bisecting the pant legs and shoulders. No visible wrinkles marred the expensively tailored fit. With gold at her neck, ears, and wrists, and expensive imported leather sheathing her dainty feet, Reese imagined Regina Ravensworth, at fifty-something, still managed to turn heads young and old wherever she went.

  Regina kept her gaze fixed on her daughter. Reese noted how careful she was not to look at the rest of the property. Her set expression told him that she intended to sweep her daughter out of here and never allow either of them to reflect on what he was certain would simply be referred to in the future as “that unfortunate incident.”

  Reese’s pulse kicked into gear again—only this time in irritation, rather than trepidation. Didn’t she have any idea how much this place meant to Jillian?

  Regina rushed to her daughter, who hadn’t budged since the chopper door had opened. “Jillian, sweetheart, I’m so relieved!”

  Reese watched Regina stop just in front of her motionless, silent daughter. She hid it well, but Reese could tell she was uncertain how to proceed, uncertain whether or not Jillian would rebuff any further show of affection. He could only imagine how uncomfortable that made a woman like her feel. It didn’t bother Reese at all to watch her deal with it.

  After a split second, Regina let her hands drop to her sides and satisfied herself with a quick air kiss beside her daughter’s cheek.

  Jillian made no return gesture. It wasn’t until Regina stepped back and looked her daughter up and down that Jillian finally moved. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, finally folding her arms across her waist. “Regina. Why are you here?”

  “Well, isn’t that a bit obvious?” Perfectly sculpted nails fluttered as she spoke. “I was worried half to death when I heard you wouldn’t evacuate.”