Marooned with the Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  He brought his face good and close to hers, so close he could taste the heat of her breath. “You should have stayed in town tonight like I told you to, you know that, don’t you?”

  She licked her lips and gulped. “Um. I...” Her eyes were so wide. Wide and soft and wanting.

  Those eyes of hers called to him. They always had. Those eyes said she knew him, was waiting for him to finally reach out and take her. Those eyes said she would do anything he wanted.

  Truth to tell, those eyes had always scared the crap out of him. They seemed to hint of things a guy like him didn’t deserve to know.

  Things like forever. Things like a lifetime.

  Things he wasn’t planning for. He lived his life alone.

  Which led back around to the basic issue: he shouldn’t be doing this.

  But too bad. He was doing this.

  He was through making jokes about it, through trying to discourage her from wanting a little hot fun with the town troublemaker. If she wanted him so much, who was he to tell her no?

  “Oh, Collin...” She said it so softly. So willingly. And then her eyes changed. All at once, they weren’t so open and sweet anymore. They’d gone determined. They were sparking fire. “No. Uh-uh. I should not have stayed down in town. I’m here with you and I’m glad I’m here.”

  Some final scrap of that protectiveness he’d always felt for her prompted him to give her one last out. He met those eyes of hers. He didn’t look away. “What I’m saying is, just tell me no, Willa. Just do it. Do it now.”

  She let out a strangled sound. It might have been a laugh. Or a sob. “Are you kidding? Don’t try and pretend that you don’t get it. All I’ve ever wanted was the chance to tell you yes.”

  It was the last straw.

  “Tell me yes, then. You go ahead. You say it right out loud to me.”

  She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, oh, yes. Please, please make love to me.”

  So much for her last out. She’d refused to take it. So be it.

  He closed that small distance between her mouth and his. He kissed her.

  For the very first time.

  He touched her mouth with his and it was...everything. A forbidden dream realized.

  A promise so long denied, finally kept.

  She kissed him back, sighing so sweetly. She melted into him, all that pride and orneriness and softness. Everything that was Willa.

  Right there. In his arms.

  Her breasts flattened against his bare chest, the way they’d only done in his dreams up till then. Through the flimsy material of that lacy top, he could feel her nipples, hot. Hard. She opened her mouth to him. He swept his hungry tongue inside and the kiss became something more than a dream. Deeper than a promise.

  She moaned as he kissed her, and she ran her slim hands up over his shoulders, into his hair.

  He needed...more of her. All of her. He had his arms good and tight around her, his aching hardness pressed into her belly. He let his hands roam freely, over the slim, smooth shape of her back, up under that cotton shirt, and then down to the cove at the base of her spine.

  Her hair was loose. It brushed his forearms and the backs of his hands. Like feathers. Like a cloud of silk. He speared his fingers up into it, fisted them, pulling her head back so he could scrape his teeth along the slim, pure curve of her white throat.

  She cried his name. He covered her mouth again and drank the sound.

  He needed...more. More of her.

  He had to have the feel of her bare skin under his hands. The plaid shirt was in the way. He fisted it by the sides and peeled it back over her slim shoulders. She moaned a little, as though in protest at having to let go of him, but she let him guide her arms down so he could push the shirt off. He whipped it away and tossed it in the general direction of a chair.

  Then he clasped her bare shoulders. So smooth and tender, her skin. White, but with a pink flush on it. Beautiful.

  He cupped her shoulders, pressed his palms against her upper chest—and lower, until he had her sweet breasts in his two hands with only the thin fabric of that clingy silky thing to protect her from his hungry touch.

  She lifted up to him, sighing, offering him whatever he wanted from her.

  And he knew what he wanted. To taste her.

  He kissed his way down her slim throat again, scattered more kisses along the ridge of her collarbone, down the sweet-smelling skin of her upper chest and lower, over the tender swell of her breast.

  He reached the goal at last and latched onto her nipple, sucking it through the silky fabric, flicking it with his tongue.

  She clutched at him, holding him to her, whispering, “Yes. Oh, Collin, yes...”

  He couldn’t have agreed with her more. She smelled like flowers and lemons and a little bit musky, too. All woman, his Willa.

  His? Well, fine, maybe not. Not forever. But at least for tonight.

  The lacy thing—what did women call those things?—a cami. Yeah. The cami had to go. He grabbed the hem of it...and then got lost in the feel of her skin again. He eased his fingers up under it, stroking the tender flesh of her back, and then bringing both hands around to the front of her, caressing her flat, smooth belly.

  She was breathing so frantically. He lifted his head and kissed her again. She moaned into his mouth.

  And he moved his hands higher. He cupped her bare breasts under the cami. They were so perfect, so firm and round—not too big, not small, either. They fit just right in his hands.

  He thought about seeing her naked.

  He wanted to do that. Right away.

  Now.

  She made no objections, only moaned eagerly and whispered “yes,” and “yes” again, as he pulled off the cami and took down the little shorts.

  There.

  At last.

  He had everything off her. She was silk and fire and magic, all he’d ever wanted. Right there in his arms.

  He bent enough to wrap his hands around the twin globes of her bottom. She moaned again and he went on kissing her as he lifted her up, dragging all that softness against him. He moaned, too.

  It felt so good. She felt so good.

  She wrapped those soft, smooth thighs around him and hooked her ankles behind his back.

  Now he could feel her, feel the womanly heart of her, right there, pressed tight to his fly. He was so hard it hurt. Hurt in the best, most extreme, most perfect kind of way.

  And then, still kissing her, her hair a froth of silk and shadows sliding across his skin, her mouth to his mouth, his breath to hers, he started walking.

  Well, reeling was more like it.

  He reeled across the great room and down the hall to his room at the end. She held on. She went on kissing him. She wrapped those soft, long arms and slim, strong legs around him like she would never, ever let him go.

  In the doorway, he paused. Or more like staggered. He braced his back against the door frame and indulged in just kissing her. She didn’t seem to mind that he’d stopped moving toward the bed. She just went on kissing him, went on rocking her hips against him, went on making him want to get out of his jeans and into her softness, pronto.

  But then again...

  No.

  He didn’t want to rush it. How many times in his life did a man hold a dream in his arms? Once, if he was lucky. A man would be a fool to rush something like that.

  Yeah, okay, he had a whole boatload of faults. And maybe he was a fool in some ways. But not when it came to holding Willa in his arms. He was taking his time about this.

  He was making it last if it killed him.

  And he was kind of afraid it just might.

  She framed his face in her two slim hands. “Collin...”

  He opened his eyes, stared into hers, w
hich were shining so bright, even in the dim light from all the way back in the kitchen. “Willa.”

  She wrapped her legs tighter around him. He groaned at the perfect friction as all that willowy softness slid along the front of him. “You do have protection?”

  He nodded on another groan.

  “Oh, good.” And she sighed and kissed him again.

  Paradise. They went on kissing, there in the darkened doorway. Endlessly.

  Until a terrible thought occurred to him. He broke the kiss so suddenly that his head bounced against the door frame.

  She cried out, “Oh! I’ll bet that hurt.” And she clucked her tongue and fussed over him, rubbing the bumped spot in a gentle, soothing way. “Be careful....”

  Gruffly, he reassured her. “I’ll live—Willa, look at me.”

  She blinked at him owlishly, adorably. In the faint glow of light from up the hallway, her dark hair was a wild tangle all around her sweet, flushed face. A dream. No doubt. This had to be a dream. “What?” she demanded. “What’s the matter now?”

  “I need you to tell me. Is this your first time?” He did not have sex with virgins.

  She pressed those amazing lips together, nervous. Unsure. And then she buried her face against his neck. “No.” She said it softly.

  “Good.” Relief was coursing through him. That fat-headed idiot from high school, Derek Andrews, no doubt. And probably Mr. Wonderful, who wanted to marry her.

  Mr. Wonderful, who was another reason Collin shouldn’t be seducing Willa. She deserved a bright future with the right kind of guy.

  But somehow, at that moment, he wasn’t feeling all that guilty about Mr. Wonderful. What guy in his right mind proposed marriage and then went to Australia? Mr. Wonderful deserved a little competition for leaving her on her own at the mercy of a guy like him.

  She pressed her plump lips to the side of his throat and he felt her tongue slide along his skin. He groaned and wrapped his arms tighter around her and was very, very glad that she wasn’t a virgin.

  He supposed he should have known she wasn’t. She didn’t act like a virgin. She acted like a woman who knew what she wanted.

  “Willa,” he whispered, and then again, “Willa...” He’d always loved the feel of her name in his mouth.

  “I’m right here.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and nuzzled his ear as he kissed his way across her cheek to take her mouth once more.

  Then he gathered her tighter, closer, and launched them from the doorway, making it to the bed in four long strides. He laid her gently down and turned on the lamp, and then he just stood there above her, looking down at her, so slim and pretty, naked to his sight.

  At last.

  “So beautiful...” The words came out of him on a bare husk of sound.

  She met his eyes—or at least she did at first. But then she grew shy. She did that thing that women do—an arm across her pink-tipped breasts, a hand to cover the shining brown curls in the cove of her silky thighs.

  “Don’t...” His voice sounded desperate, ragged to his own ears.

  And she reached out. She put a hand against his belly, palm flat. A groan escaped him when she did that. Her touch felt so good, so exactly right. Like the scent of her that seemed to call to him, to beckon him to her.

  She said, gently, politely, “Take off your jeans, please.”

  He couldn’t do what she wanted fast enough. Two of the buttons were undone anyway. He undid the rest and shucked them off and away.

  “Oh, Collin, you’re so...you’re beautiful, you are.”

  “Men aren’t beautiful,” he argued gruffly.

  “Oh, yes. They are.” She held out her arms to him. “I’m so happy. After all this time, I never thought...never imagined...” She seemed to run out of words. It was all right. He understood, he knew exactly what she meant. “Come down here. With me....”

  He pulled open the bedside drawer and got a condom from the box in there. And then he went down to her. He stretched out beside her, covered her mouth with his and let his hands wander.

  Her body moved beneath his touch, so tempting, so soft. He kissed her as he stroked her hair, her throat, the smooth roundness of her shoulder.

  So much to explore, all of her. Beautiful and willing and pliant and tender. The slim curve of her waist called to him. He stroked his hand from her rib cage to the swell of her hip and lower, down the long sweep of her thigh.

  He palmed her knee and gently guided it open. Then he did what he’d dreamed of doing, sliding his palm up the inside of her thigh as she rolled her hips and tossed her head and moaned his name in hungry encouragement.

  The dark curls were already wet with her excitement. He parted them. She cried his name out good and loud then.

  He kissed her slow and deep. He whispered against her lips, “Like this, Willa?”

  She gasped. “Yes, oh! Yes...”

  He slipped a finger in. Two. Wet silk inside, warm and slick, welcoming him. Her hips moved rhythmically now, her thighs open, offering him everything. So much. All she had to give.

  “Collin...” She said his name against his mouth. And then she gave him her tongue to suck. He kissed her endlessly as he stroked her.

  And by then, touching her in that most intimate place wasn’t enough. He had to taste her there.

  He kissed his way down the center of her. She clutched his shoulders, murmured his name over and over, like she couldn’t get enough of saying it. He just kept kissing her, all of her, as he lifted up and slid over and settled between her open thighs. She shifted, adjusting herself with a long, slow sigh, bracing her heels on his shoulders.

  The scent of her was so sweet, lemons and musk. And the taste? Exactly as he’d dreamed it. Only better. Endlessly better...

  He used his fingers and his mouth and she moved against him, sighing, her hands in his hair, her head tossing on the pillow. She was rising, reaching for the peak, and he stayed with her, all the way. Until at last she went over, crying his name as the soft explosion of her climax pulsed against his tongue.

  The condom had been lost somewhere in the tangle of bedclothes. He felt around for it—and got lucky. His fingers closed around it as she sighed once more and went all loose and lazy.

  He didn’t stop kissing her. She tasted so good.

  She moaned his name. And finally, she pleaded, “Oh, please. Oh, my. I can’t...it’s too much...”

  With a low chuckle, he relented, backing off a little, resting his head on her thigh. She stroked his hair, traced the shape of his ear. He was aching to continue. He’d been hard and getting harder forever, it felt like right then.

  But at the same time, he was satisfied just to lie with her that way, naked. Together. Unashamed.

  A few minutes later, he sat back on his knees. She followed him, sitting up, brushing her wild hair out of her eyes, laughing. “Here. Let me...”

  So he gave her the pouch. She tore the end off with her teeth. Hottest thing he ever saw. A guy didn’t need those girlie magazines she’d teased him about having in his man-cave. Not with Willa Christensen naked in his bed.

  She peeled away the wrapper and set it neatly on the bedside table. Then she bent close to him. She rolled it down over him.

  He shut his eyes and tipped his head back and tried not to lose it just from the feel of her sliding it down over him.

  “Collin?”

  He let a low groan be his answer.

  And then the bed shifted as she rose up on her knees and bent close to him, all tart and sweet and womanly. Her hair brushed his shoulder and her mouth touched his, lightly, teasing him.

  It was too much. He rose up and took her shoulders and rolled her under him.

  She let out a little cry and a soft laugh. And then he was on top of her, his elbows braced on either
side of her, framing her sweet face in his hands, her hair all around them. He stared down at her and she looked up at him.

  “Willa...”

  “Collin.”

  “Willa, I...” There were no words. And it didn’t matter. He was right where he’d never dared dream he would be.

  “I’m so glad,” she whispered.

  He had her arms trapped at her sides. But she could move her legs.

  And she did, lifting them, hooking them around the backs of his thighs. He was positioned just right, nudging her where she was so soft and wet and open.

  She felt like heaven. Like some lost paradise, found at last, after he’d given up believing he would ever get there.

  He entered her slowly, by aching degrees. And he held her gaze the whole time. He needed the sight of her face as he claimed her, so beautifully flushed. Lips softly parted.

  Completely willing, with nothing held back from him.

  She moaned as he went deeper. He made an answering sound and kept pressing, filling her.

  Finally, he couldn’t go slowly anymore. With a forceful thrust, he was all the way in.

  She gasped. Her eyes widened. Her sweet lips invited.

  He lowered his mouth to her and kissed her as he began to move.

  After that, time folded in on itself. He lost control and rocked wildly against her. She held him closer, tighter than before.

  She made soft, willing sounds that only drove him higher. Deeper. Harder.

  His mind was gone, shattered. There was only her body and his body inside her, the feel of her soft, willing mouth pressed to his.

  He hit the peak and sailed over, knowing a faint echo of regret that he couldn’t hold out for her—and then, all at once, learning he hadn’t left her behind, after all. Her body pulsed around him, drawing him deeper. Pushing him higher.

  Hurling him outward through a midnight-blue universe of fast-spinning stars.

  Chapter Eleven

  Faintly, far away, Willa heard music playing. It was that Joe Nichols song, “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.”

  She smiled. She’d always thought that song was kind of cute.