Clark was suddenly a frenzy of motion as he moved toward her, setting off the whinnying of the horses in their various stalls, as if the animals sensed there was a dangerous man in their midst. Olivia took several defensive steps from him, then found herself backed against a stall door, a horse nudging her shoulder toward Clark, who had stopped in front of her, his hardness a tent in the front of his jeans, the only part of him that touched her.
His intense gaze bored into her as he said, “We have a few hours left before I have to leave.”
Olivia tried not to react visibly to the pain that slammed into her. Nothing had changed in the last few hours, no matter how much she had hoped. She had fallen more in love with Clark since entering Red Creek, and he was still living in the fantasy. Olivia knew that he felt something for her, she could feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes, but he had made it clear from the beginning that this was a one-night deal. One all-night fantasy. And whatever Clark felt for her was obviously not enough to change that, no matter how much she loved him.
Because she had the right for tonight, Olivia touched his warm, rough cheek. Clark's nostrils flared as if her touch literally took his breath. Olivia sighed in acceptance. She would dwell on her stupidity tomorrow. Now, she would allow herself to make memories to keep her warm for the next sixty years. And when they were done making love, she would get away from him as soon as possible; otherwise, she would beg Clark to give her a chance and Olivia didn't want to see the pity in his beautiful eyes as he explained to her once more that his life could never include her.
Olivia inhaled deeply then murmured, “If we only have a few hours left, why are we still talking?”
He didn't respond, but instead grabbed a thick plaid blanket off a nearby tack then motioned toward a ladder that led to the hayloft.
"Have you ever made love in a hayloft?” he asked, with a devilish gleam in his eyes.
Olivia grinned as she shook her head. She should have never come to the barn. She was still tender, still worn out from their previous exertions, but in a day, he had become as important to her as oxygen. She wasn't complete unless he was near her or inside of her.
"No, I haven't,” she said, softly.
"Me either,” he said, then began to climb the ladder. Olivia took a deep breath, then followed him. He stepped onto the loft and then grabbed her hands and pulled her past the last four rungs of the ladder, until she stood on the loft.
Clark eagerly spread out the blanket then laid on it, propping on his elbows to watch her. For a moment, Olivia was nervous, wondering what would happen tomorrow in the light of day, or if any of the partygoers would come to the barn. But, then Clark held out his hand. Olivia was helpless to resist him. Ever. She slowly straddled him. He felt right underneath her, and he was hers, if only for tonight.
Since he seemed content to simply hold her, Olivia moved first, ravaging his mouth, reacquainting herself with the taste of him. Then his hands were on her, touching her over and under her clothes, branding her. Olivia should have been ashamed of her body's reaction to Clark, of how quickly he could arouse her—with a look, a touch, a movement, but she couldn't feel the shame. Maybe tomorrow, but tonight her hands just went to his shirt. She averted her eyes from his direct gaze and unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, to reveal his soft skin over hard muscle that women across the world sighed over in dark movie theatres.
With a reverence that Olivia only showed to rare books, she gently pushed his shirt off his shoulders and allowed it to pool to the ground as her hands ran across the smooth hardness of his chest. He was still, his eyes watching her. If she hadn't felt the slight tremor pass underneath her hands each time her fingertips brushed across his nipples, she would have thought he felt nothing. Then she met his dark eyes. There was lust and a pleasure-pain that awed her with the proof of her effect on him, not to mention the bulge in his jeans that made her mouth dry.
Clark abruptly took her hands in his, when her hands touched the button to his jeans. “You can't do this to me again, Liv. I don't want to rush this.”
"What do you want to do?” she whispered, meeting his gaze.
The soft smile on his face faded as he said huskily, “You.” “Oh.”
He grinned and she wondered if that was the right thing to say or the wrong thing to say. He torturously and slowly drew the T-shirt over her head. Next, his hands moved to the waistband of the jeans. His gaze held hers as he slowly pushed the pants down, an expert at removing the tight denim now, as if he had all the time in the world. And maybe they did because for all Olivia knew the rest of the world had ceased to exist. She already had lost track of time, of anything outside them and the hayloft. His fingers skimmed across her skin as he pulled the jeans down her legs, then rose to his knees to yank them from around her ankles.
Olivia suddenly felt self-conscious as Clark openly stared at her body. He was perfect, hours obviously spent working out. A six-pack did not come naturally. Olivia exercised only when forced and had her share of a thirty-year-old woman's physical imperfections. She hadn't had time to be self-conscious earlier because Clark hadn't given her time; he had torn at her clothes and been inside of her before she could form a coherent thought. But, now he was going slow, taking his time, and she didn't know if she could survive scrutiny from a man with one of the best bodies she had ever seen—in the movies or in real life.
Then Clark licked his lips and Olivia realized that he didn't care anything about her cellulite because he was too busy worshipping her smooth skin. Olivia suddenly felt a different type of insecurity. Probably how most women felt when they stared at a big man who had set his sights on her, and she realized there was nothing she could do about it.
"The magic of haylofts has been greatly underreported,” he whispered, his eyes trained on the triangle that her panties covered.
Olivia smiled as she pressed her thighs together, covering what Clark stared at so hard.
His gaze moved to her face as he said with a slight smile, “You aren't getting shy on me now, are you, Liv? Not after everything we did earlier.”
"No,” she retorted, sounding entirely too stiff to be laying on a blanket in the middle of a pile of straw nearly nude. “What are you staring at?”
Her nerves must have been apparent because Clark paused in unbuttoning his pants and moved over her until they were face to face. In the moonlight streaming through the small, square windows in the hayloft, she saw how gentle his gaze was, and how honest it was.
"You,” he said quietly, as he trailed one finger from her bottom lip, down her neck and to the spot in between her breasts where the clasp of her bra was. A path of butterflies followed his finger, causing her to unconsciously arch her back in response. His hand hovered above the bra clasp for a moment and he licked his lips again, as if she was a buffet he couldn't wait to dig in to. “You're beautiful, Liv, I should have told you that earlier. Beautiful, sexy, and so smart that you could embarrass a brother if he's not careful.”
At her sigh of surrender, he unclasped her bra and her breasts spilled free. As if the sight of her breasts alone was the magic key to unlocking his reserve, Clark suddenly covered her, his big legs on either side of her body, the maleness of him hard and insistent against her bare thigh as his mouth covered hers. It was all she needed to forget her shyness, her fear that she wouldn't compare to his models. Instead, she felt beautiful and loved. His mouth raked across hers, alternating between soft nibbles and hard, bruising kisses that made her grasp his shoulders and silently beg for more. His lips pulled on hers, bathed hers, and massaged hers.
Her legs opened underneath his and he instantly settled in the space, as if he belonged there. While his mouth occupied hers in those hard, thorough kisses that made her shiver in need and lust, one of his hands snaked down her body Goosebumps raised in the aftermath of his progress and she tensed in anticipation to the end of his journey. Through damp cotton, he rubbed the heart of her and she bucked against the movement of his slende
r and clever fingers.
"So soft,” he whispered, against her mouth. He sounded almost wicked as he added in a deeper tone, “So wet.”
Olivia whimpered again and tried to move one of her hands to touch him in return, but she ran into denim and moaned in protest.
"I want to touch you,” she whispered into the darkness.
"Not yet,” he said then took one breast into her mouth.
Olivia screamed his name into the night. His tongue was hot and wet and insistent as he suckled her nipple. His other hand moved aside the strip of panties in the way. The rush of cool air caused Olivia to lift her hips in ecstasy, partially to rid herself of the panties and partially to silently beg him to fill her. In partial response, his fingers began to trace the length of her swollen and wet nether lips.
His mouth moved to her other nipple, causing another involuntary buck of her hips, as one of his fingers slowly worked its way into her depths. Her eyes slid closed and her mouth dropped open in wordless pleasure at the feel of his long finger inside of her. He took that opportunity to kiss her again and his tongue began to thrust into her mouth, exactly like his finger.
A second finger joined the first and Olivia couldn't control the wild contortions of her body in response to the carnal feelings. She was going insane and if this was insanity, then she would gladly be a card-carrying member.
"Liv,” Clark whispered, in a voice too deep to be real, as his fingers continued to confine her in a sensual prison. “I want to taste you,” he whispered, the words barely piercing through the haze of sensual need and delirium. He kissed her once more,
drugging her with his tongue and the fingers still working inside of her.
Olivia stared at him, wondering how she was supposed to have the power to respond. Her body no longer felt like her own—over the last twenty-four hours, she had ceded all power of it to him. He planted a kiss in the middle of her round belly then moved farther down.
She wriggled against the blanket, and his hands massaged her thighs, as if to calm her down, but that was impossible because he then gently pushed her legs wider apart. Olivia opened her eyes in time to see his head move between her thighs. She bit her bottom lip to hold in her scream at the first expert swipe of his tongue. It was followed by a longer, slower lick then a shorter one, and he continued to alternate his pace, never giving her a rest from the attack of sensations. Her body was now completely out of her control as the emotions built and intensified precisely where his tongue struck. His fingers moved inside of her again. His skillful tongue and his touch were all designed to drive her crazy, to make her lose whatever shred of control she thought she had left. It would have been humiliating, if it wasn't so wonderful.
Olivia couldn't stop her body. She wanted him, needed him. Her body gripped for him, not just his fingers.
"Clark, please,” she gasped hoarsely.
He groaned deep in his throat. “You taste and feel so good,” he murmured. “I could play with you down here all night.”
"Clark, please,” she said, more insistently.
He grinned, and she actually had the energy left to grin back at him as a shudder wracked her body. He stood, with a liquid- controlled grace that amazed her, and unbuttoned his pants. She was momentarily awed by the sight of him. He stood tall and proud and all-male. Dark, muscular, and arrogant as hell.
Clark pulled a condom from his wallet in the pocket of his pants, then crawled back onto the blanket. He was moving too slow, and after waiting too long, Olivia couldn't wait anymore. She grabbed his picture-perfect behind and squeezed.
That was apparently all the encouragement Clark needed. He closed his eyes and joined them with an unnerving precision. Olivia gasped in relief and pleasure as he filled her. She screamed as the emotions slammed into her center at the same time that he did. He was buried to the hilt and she drew up her knees to feel him deeper. It was a mistake on her part because then it all hit her like a cosmic force as Clark began to move, slowly and expertly, as if he had been loving her like this since the beginning of time.
It was as if they hadn't been with each other that morning, the passion and the desire was so new and too intense. They moved in sync, perfectly and erotically. Olivia moved her hands across his broad back to hold on to his shoulders. Her eyes opened briefly as the feel of his hardness, the feel of his warm, sweet breath on her face, combined with her feelings of love. Right before she gasped his name in completion, she saw something in his expression as he stared at her that made her wonder if this was about more than one night, if there were expectations. Then all thoughts fled her mind and her entire body tensed in the outpouring of pleasure. After a few more fluid thrusts, Clark froze above her, then whispered her name in a husky croak of reverence before he lay on top of her.
No words were needed. Olivia didn't need to be held or need to hear soft words of encouragement. She had felt and heard everything she needed.
5
.
Mr. Stone? Mr. Stone, are you in here?
Clark opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented, as he stared at the unfamiliar barn roof lit by bright sunlight and felt the unmistakable sting of straw pricking him in the bare ass. He wondered if it had been a dream, but it couldn't have been a dream because the last twenty-four hours with Olivia by his side had been better than anything he could have imagined. It had been better than signing his last multimillion dollar contract. Even though he had never won an Oscar, he knew it was better than winning an Oscar could ever be.
He had kissed Olivia and touched her because he needed to, not just to pass the time or because he was expected to. Being inside of her, kissing her, tasting her, it had been more than he had been prepared to handle and now he couldn't imagine another day without her. Even after a full night of loving her, the taste of her lingered on his lips and made him hard again. He instantly turned to Olivia, and he was surprised to find her space of the blanket empty.
"Mr. Stone?” came the voice again.
Clark cursed, recognizing Matt's voice. He frantically searched for his pants and slipped into them before he leaned over the edge of the loft. Matt stood in the middle of the barn, peering at the horses around him, very carefully. Clark snorted in amusement. City folk.
"Matt, where is Olivia?” Clark demanded.
Matt flinched in fear, before he realized that Clark was above him. “Mr. Stone, we have to get moving. Your flight for Scotland leaves—”
He repeated, his tone more demanding, “Where is Olivia?”
Matt was hesitant as he said, “She called me twenty minutes ago, and I took her to the train station. She's waiting for the nine o'clock train back to Los Angeles—”
"She left?” he asked, in disbelief. Had last night meant nothing to her? Was he going to have to accept just one night with her?
"Yes, sir.”
Clark grabbed his shirt and half-climbed, half-fell down the ladder. As straw poked the bottom of his feet, he realized that he had left his boots above. He didn't stop, but grabbed Matt's shirt and said, “Take me to the train station right now!”
Matt hesitantly shook his head. “Ms. Hawkins told me to get you out of Red Creek and to the airport as soon as possible. Somehow, the paparazzi found out you were here. A whole herd of them are outside the gates of this ranch right now. If a bunch of your friends weren't standing around the gates, blocking the way, they'd all be in here right now—”
"I love that woman and you're going to take me to the train station right now so I can tell her.”
Matt stared at him for a moment then nodded. Clark sighed in relief then started to run out the barn, but Matt grabbed his arm and said with a smile, “Could you, at least, put on your shirt? I would hate to have to explain to my mom back in Kansas City why there was a picture of me on the cover of The Star with a half-nude Clark Stone.”
Clark nodded absently, put his shirt on backward, then raced out the barn barefoot toward the black limousine parked at the entrance.
Oliv
ia heard the commotion outside the one-room Red Creek train station before she saw Clark tearing into the station, with a pack of reporters hot on his heels. His bare heels, she noted confused. She stared at him, horrified, uncertain how to feel, how to react.
Clark spotted her sitting in the corner of the train station, and he ran toward her. Lights flashed in her eyes as cameras went off around her. Clark appeared oblivious to the fifteen extra people and the cameras behind him, as he focused on her.
"Were you really going to leave me?” Clark demanded, the moment he reached her.
Olivia stared uncertainly at the large camera lenses, but Clark gently turned her chin until she met his eyes. For the first time, she allowed herself to see the love in his eyes. It was time for her to believe in herself and their love. The feelings between them were too powerful and all-consuming to be anything but once-in- a-lifetime love.
"They don't matter,” he said softly. “No one else matters, except you and me. Why'd you leave?”
"You told me that it was a fantasy. I thought that you didn't want anything more than one night.”
"When did I say that?” he croaked, in disbelief.
"In the limousine before we kissed, and in your old bedroom, in the barn—”
He interrupted her impatiently, “In the barn, I was too crazed with wanting you, but I meant to tell you then—I should have told you at the airport—I've been in love with you since the first moment I saw you, Liv.”
"Really?” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes. The crowd of reporters pressed closer, sensing a cover story.
"I still remember it. You were wearing a gray dress and eyeglasses. Your hair was in a funny, little bun. You looked like a librarian,” he said, with a soft laugh. “I didn't know it was love, I didn't know what it was, I just tried to ignore you and hoped that the feeling would go away. But, now, for the first time in months, I know exactly what I've been feeling. I'm in love with you, Liv.”
An All Night Man Page 26