“That’s it, baby. Squeeze me tight,” he encouraged.
Not yet, not until this moment was branded in his memory.
She brushed his lips with her fingertip and pressed into his mouth. He sucked at her finger, swirling his tongue around and nipping at the soft pad. When she pulled it free, the digit glistened in the dim light. Reaching behind her and between his legs, she found his hidden hole and pushed inside.
“Fuck!” he shouted. His head jerked back and slammed against the wall. His eyes crossed and his cock jerked and swelled in her tightening sheath with an orgasm that went on and on.
Somehow he found the strength to move his hand. He found her clit and pinched hard. Her sultry laughter turned into a scream as she went over the edge in a freefall that stole her ability to think. A million fireballs raced through her veins, exploding out the top of her head and the points of her nipples as her greedy pussy sucked up every drop of his cum. He kept up the pressure, milking every second of her orgasm until they slumped together in a sweaty, heaving heap.
“You’re evil,” he muttered into her hair.
She managed a weak laugh. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”
“But in a good way, right?”
“Oh yeah,” she sighed dreamily.
“You do know I’ll be wanting to do that again. And often.”
Will he? Will he, really?
She pushed the lingering doubt away. He wanted a new start and she loved him. Somehow she’d find the strength to give it to him.
He cradled her head close to his heart and placed a kiss to her forehead as he scooted down the bed with her draped over him like a blanket. “Sweet dreams, magpie.”
“Good night, Trey.”
In seconds, his chest rose and fell in a deep pattern of sleep, but rest eluded her. Too much was still unsettled, and moments like this might never come again. With the beat of his heart under her ear and the weight of his arms around her shoulders, she lay in her husband’s arms and savored the occasion until the sky turned purple with the arrival of the new day.
11
Seven years earlier…
He was either a genius or the biggest dumb-fuck to ever walk the face of the earth.
Ting.
This was going to work.
Ting.
It had to work.
Ting.
Trey bent and snagged a few more pebbles from the rock garden. It was eleven at night and he stood outside the house that Greta shared with her cousin and Mark’s sister as if he were a lovesick teenager with his first crush. Or a skeevy, peeping Tom pervert who hoped to catch a glimpse of skin through the curtains, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, this was a new experience for him.
A week had passed since that night of the Harvest Festival. During all that time, he couldn’t get the woman, or that kiss, out of his head. She haunted his every thought, waking and dreaming. He imagined countless ways he’d show her exactly how good it could be between them, and he was desperate to try every one. She was his match and he’d be a fool to let her walk away without convincing her to give him a chance, which was why he came up with this brilliant idea of tossing rocks at her window.
Ting.
Sure, he could have rung the doorbell, but then he’d have had to face the cock-block twins. Melody and Gina had been trying to get into his jeans for years. Well, Melody not so much because of Mark, but Gina was not so subtle about her interest. Convincing Greta to go out with him was going to be difficult enough without the girl’s constant flirting.
“Come on, come on, come on.” He kissed the last pebble for luck then tossed it into the air.
The window opened just before the pebble hit the glass. Greta ducked as it sailed past her head. “What the hell?” She peered out into the night. “Trey? What are you doing?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Is there something wrong with the front door?”
“No. I just didn’t want to disturb Gina or Melody.”
She looked over her shoulder into the shadowy room, then back to him. He could barely make out her features in the moonlight, but he thought he saw an amused smirk curl her lip. “And a phone wouldn’t work because…”
“I don’t know your number. And would you have talked to me on the phone?”
She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. After a second, she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Ha, see, that’s why the window. Come on. It’s a nice night. Come take a walk with me.”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to you. Get to know you.” Strip you naked and kiss every inch of that delectable body, but I can’t do that until you get within kissing distance.
“Trey,” she said with a sigh that seemed to come from her toes. “You know I don’t do short term.”
“It’s just a walk. I want to be your friend. We can be friends, right? What are you afraid of?” He smiled in that cocky way he knew would rile her. “Do you think that if you spend more than three minutes with me, you’ll fall so in love that you’ll never want to leave?”
Her lips tightened. “No.” She folded her arms, pushing her full breasts together, drawing his gaze. “Just a walk?”
“Just a walk.” For now. “Come on. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” She didn’t move a muscle. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
Finally, a genuine smile and a ring of laughter. “That’s a little backwards, but I’ll give you credit for the effort.” She held up a finger. “Don’t move.”
The window closed with a snap, and then the light went out. As he stood in the bushes, the thrum of excitement quickened his blood. The air felt crisper and the stars in the night sky appeared sharper. Honeysuckle and apples filled the air with a sweet scent that tickled his nostrils as he scuffed his boots in the gravel and waited. And waited. What was taking her so long? He was about to go around to the front of the house when she appeared from around the corner.
She wore a denim skirt, cowboy boots, and a gray hoodie over a blue cotton T-shirt. On any other woman the outfit might have looked frumpy, but with her smooth bare legs, her impeccable posture, and that swing of her hips, she looked as sexy as sin. Damn, the woman knew how to walk. At the festival, Greta had looked like Rodeo Drive in her red dress, all style and sophistication, and that hadn’t changed with the more casual outfit. But now she looked ready to take a tumble in the back of his truck, and that was more than all right with him.
“So.” She stopped, keeping a foot of distance between them. Closer than he expected her to stand after her hands-off attitude. “You want to be my friend.”
“That’s right,” he drew out slowly. The little witch was up to something.
“Interesting.” She looped her arm around his elbow and pulled him along. He felt her heat all along his side where they touched. The softness of her breast brushed against his arm, with each step making his cock grow hard. It was going to be an uncomfortable walk. “So, what do you want to talk about, girlfriend? How about why aren’t you out whooping it up on a Friday night?”
“Whooping?” he chuckled. “You know the word ‘whooping’?”
“I’ve heard it bandied about around here.” When she smiled, her whole face lit up, and her eyes sparkled with secrets that made you feel as if she was sharing them only with you. “But seriously, no date?”
Like anyone could hold his attention after her. “I don’t date as much as you think. Running a ranch is an exhausting business, especially when it’s your ranch. It’s been worth it, though. Things are starting to go really well. Today I met with some people who are interested in my semen.”
Greta tripped. “What?”
“My—” he broke off when he realized what he said, and the tips of his ears began to burn. “Bull semen. They want to breed from my bulls.”
Her laugh echoed into the night, dark and rich. She gripped his arm tight with one hand while the other braced against her knee. He laughed with her, captivated by the
way her amusement engulfed her entire body.
He brushed the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “Sorry. Forgot that you might not know what that means.”
“Well, I do now.” She straightened and pressed her hand against her side. “Oh my God, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.” They resumed their stroll while she caught her breath. “Congratulations. It must be good to know that someone wants your semen.”
“I have plenty of it and am eager to share,” he teased, hoping she’d take the bait.
The only acknowledgment of his humor was a smile as she bumped his hip with hers. “Do you like ranching, or was it something you felt like you had to take on?”
“I love it. I do.” He was encouraged that she was asking questions about his life, showing an interest in him. “It’s all I’ve ever known, but it’s also all I’ve wanted to do. I love the open air, the sun beating on my back. I love the way I feel worn out and tired at the end of a good day’s work. Where else can I call Mother Nature my office?” He grinned at her and when she smiled back, a match struck inside him, warming his heart. She listened to him, completely open and engaged. “I always knew that someday the ‘A’ would be mine. I just wished it hadn’t been so soon.”
“I heard about your parents. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine the pressure and responsibility you must have felt taking on the ranch like that at so young an age.” She squeezed his biceps. He placed his free hand over hers and was delighted when she didn’t pull away.
“It was rough, really rough for a while. Mark was a big help. I couldn’t have done it without him.” He frowned when he saw that they had already gone around the block and come back to her front door.
“That’s good that you have such a great friendship. I was never close to anyone that way. I spent most of my time in a library or art studio. It tends to lead to an isolated existence. Well,” She glanced at the door, then at him before pulling away. “That was nice. Thank you.”
She was dead wrong if she thought he would let her leave with only a “That’s nice” comment. “Wait up, woman. We’re not done yet. I haven’t had a chance to get to know about you.”
Her dark eyes stared up at him, assessing, scrutinizing. Trey held still. This was another one of her tests. He didn’t know what she was looking for when she gazed at him that way, but he didn’t want to give her any reason to turn him away. “Okay.” She must have seen something she liked. “Would you like to come in for some cocoa?”
“Cocoa?” The question surprised him. He would have expected a glass of wine or some fancy coffee.
“Yes, cocoa. You know, chocolate, milk.” She really did seem to love giving him a hard time.
“I know what it is. We won’t be disturbing the girls, will we?”
“It’s Friday. They’re out on dates.”
“Really?” He tried to keep the joy in his tone to a minimum. More alone time with Greta? Now that was a happy change of plans. “I would love to try your cocoa.”
She said nothing, just smiled that secret smile of hers and let him in.
The little two-story rental was worn but cozy. The scent of apple pie a pie nd cinnamon welcomed him when he entered and reminded him of his mother’s cooking. He followed Greta into the kitchen and watched as she took out a small pot and a cutting board. She looked very comfortable in her environment while she gathered her ingredients.
“Why no date for you on a Friday?” he asked leaning against the counter. She glanced over her shoulder with an imperiously raised eyebrow. “Ah, yes. That’s right. You don’t do short term.”
“See, you can learn. Cookie?” She placed a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies next to him and then went back to the stove to heat the milk.
“I don’t see how you’re going to find Mr. Long Term if you don’t even give Mr. Short Term a try.” He bit into a cookie. “Hot damn. These are delicious. What brand are they?”
She laughed. “I made them.”
“Are you kidding?” They were the tastiest thing he ever ate. Moist, chewy, not too sweet with just the right amount of salt to make him want another, and another. “These are really good.” He watched with amusement as she grated the block of chocolate before stirring it into the simmering milk. No powdered mixes for Greta—it was obvious she took her food seriously.
“Thank you. I like to cook. It’s another way to express my creativity. Just a second. This is going to be loud.” She took a bowl down from the cupboard and a carton of cream from the refrigerator. She whipped the cream with a hand mixer until a white mountain formed in the bowl. A dollop of whipped cream went into each of their steaming mugs. “Here you go. Shall we go sit on the couch?”
“Absolutely.” He followed the sway of her denim encased hips into the living room. He couldn’t help it. Watching her in action in the kitchen, looking very domestic, turned him on. It called to the caveman inside him that made him want to pound his chest and shout “Good mate, go claim.”
He let her pick her seat before he sat down beside her on the couch, leaving enough space between them so that she wouldn’t feel crowded, but close enough he could make out her nipples poking through her thin T-shirt. She had taken the hoodie off when they returned, and the cotton-covered mounds beckoned to him to come and rest his weary head. Soon, my beauties, he promised.
“You didn’t answer my question about why no date for you,” he reminded her. He took a sip, and the rich chocolate slid across his tongue, smooth and creamy. “Wow, that’s good. Stop distracting me with food.”
She giggled and grinned at him from behind her mug. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Then answer the question.”
“I told you. I am only here for a few months. That’s not enough time to properly cultivate a relationship.”
“But what if the man for you is right here? You’re just going to let him go because you don’t think there’s enough time for whatever it is you want to cultivate?”
“And you think that man is you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed again and rested her head against the cushion, her gaze on the ceiling. When she caught her breath she looked back at him with admiration and exasperation in her gaze. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Nope. Life’s too short. You have to grab it before it passes you by. So why are you going to let me go?”
“Look, Trey.” She placed her mug on the table, and then pushed the hair off her face before turning to him. “I’ve seen it happen. To my mother, to all of my married friends. They marry men who have really big, life-encompassing careers. Then their wants become his wants, and their friends are only his friends. They give up everything that made them special and unique for the sake of making their man happy. Their essence was sucked from them, leaving them with nothing.”
“You think I’m going to suck out your essence?” He was having a hard time following her train of thought. She spoke with passion, so he knew it was important enough that he had to concentrate on what she was saying.
Whatever expression she saw on his face made her laugh again. “Maybe not intentionally, but before long it would turn into me staying at the ranch, cleaning, cooking for your men. No chance to make any of my jewelry. You wouldn’t want me going out because you’d want me home to tell me about your day and watch the kids and take care of the house. Then everything that made me me—poof. Gone. I don’t want that.”
“Is that why you turned Mark down, too?”
She sighed and lowered her gaze. “Partly. He seems nice. And he is good looking. He really knows how to rock that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing.” A tick began near his eye as wickedness touched the curve of her smile. “And those cheekbones are to die for. He looks so intense. I guess that could be a good thing, though. Do you think he’s an intense lover?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
“Hmm.” She looked contemplative for a moment before returning to her answer. “Mark has
that vibe. You know, ‘Don’t worry, little lady, I’ll take care of everything.’ It’s very overwhelming. And I don’t want to be ‘taken care of.’ I want to be involved too. Plus, there was no spark.”
“Spark?”
“Yeah, you know what I mean, girlfriend.” She smiled and clasped her hands to her breast. “That spark from when your hands touch and the electricity shoots up your arm and your insides turn all mushy.”
He rested his arm along the back of the couch in a deceptively casual pose. The woman could teach a course in how to drive him crazy. “Oh yeah, like when I see a beautiful woman in a red dress and my stomach starts to roll and my cock gets hard enough to hammer nails. I know exactly what you mean. Girlfriend.” He winked and let loose with a big, toothy grin.
She turned away, biting her lip. “You are too much.” She wanted to laugh, he could see it, but she just shook her head. “Too much.”
“Greta.” He set his mug down and leaned toward her. “I get what you’re saying. I really do. That won’t happen with me. I like that we’re different. Makes it interesting. You can make all the jewelry you want, whole truckloads if that makes you happy. I just want to be with you. What’s wrong with that?”
Confusion and uncertainty swirled in her eyes when she met his gaze. “Nothing, Trey. Nothing. I think it’s nice you believe you can be that kind of man.”
Goddammit, the woman was going to make him punch a hole in the wall. “Trust. It’s an issue of trust. Is it just me or all men?”
“Of course I don’t trust you. I don’t know you.”
He bit back his curse, his hands trembled with the need to strangle her. “If you get to know me, then you’ll trust me.” He reached across the couch and took her hand. A jolt raced up his arm as he heard her gasp. They both stared at their clasped hands, their breaths loud and harsh in the quiet room. “Look. Sparks.”
Greta jumped to her feet. Trey let her get two steps away before he banded an arm around her waist and pulled her tight into the curve of his body. Her rapid breathing would have had him thinking she was hyperventilating, except he felt the same way. Lightning struck whenever they touched. It was intense, like bungee jumping off a bridge, fascinating and frightening at the same time.
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 122