The More Mavericks, the Merrier!

by Brenda Harlen

  Now, she thought. Finally now he would kiss her and she could stop thinking about what was going to happen and enjoy the experience of letting it happen.

  But he bypassed her mouth in favor of her temple, gently skimming his lips over her skin. Then he brushed a kiss on her cheekbone, another near her ear, and her jaw. He wasn’t kissing her so much as caressing her face with his lips, and every fleeting touch was incredibly and shockingly arousing.

  His hands slid beneath her sweater, his fingertips danced over her skin. He was a rancher with big hands and tough skin, but his touch was infinitely and almost unbearably gentle. No, he wasn’t touching so much as teasing, hinting at the promise of so much more.

  His hands moved around to her front, stroking gently over her belly, tracing the edge of her bra. He hadn’t touched her breasts, but her nipples were already peaked, aching.

  “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “I like the feel of your skin.” Then he nuzzled her throat. “The scent of your skin.” Then he pressed his lips to the ultra sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. “And the taste of your skin.”

  “You could touch, smell and taste a lot more if you took me upstairs to your bedroom,” she told him.

  Jamie didn’t need to be told twice.

  Upstairs, he pulled back the covers on his bed, then laid her down on the mattress.

  It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. He didn’t remember exactly how long, except that the last time Paula had let him touch her had been in the early stages of her pregnancy, before she discovered she was carrying triplets.

  He pushed those unhappy memories aside to focus on the joy that filled his heart here and now.

  Fallon was passionate and eager, responding to his kisses, his touches, with wild abandon, meeting his demands with her own. He knew she was self-conscious about what she considered to be her too-small breasts, but to him they were perfect. Round and firm with dark pink nipples at the center.

  He took one of those nipples in his mouth, then the other. She squirmed beneath him as he suckled her flesh, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps that assured him she was enjoying the attention. He proceeded to pay the same careful attention to the rest of her body. He moved slowly down her torso, his mouth trailing kisses over her silky skin.

  He slid his hands along the inside of her thighs, urging them apart. Then he parted the soft folds at her center, to reveal her sweet glistening core. She sucked in a breath, her fingers curling into the sheet. He interpreted her silence as acquiescence and lowered his head to taste her.

  Her heels dug into the mattress, her hips instinctively tilting to provide easier access. He took advantage of what she was offering, using his lips and his tongue to give them both pleasure.

  “Jamie. Please.” She was writhing beneath him, gasping for breath. He knew what she was asking for, because he wanted the same thing. He was rock-hard and aching, desperate for her.

  He shifted away from her only long enough to dig a little square packet out of the drawer in his night table, then huffed out a frustrated breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Fallon asked.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any need for birth control, and I’m pretty sure this condom is past its best before date,” he admitted.

  “Oh,” she said, the single syllable heavy with disappointment.

  “I don’t suppose you have any in your purse?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, I—wait. Actually, I do,” she admitted, and even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks flush. “But they’re, uh, glow-in-the-dark condoms.”

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” he teased.

  “I’m not. I mean, they’re not mine.” She lifted her hands to cover her face. “Brenna tucked them in my purse, as a joke, before I went out with Bobby Ray Saturday night.”

  He absolutely was not going to ask if she’d used any of the condoms, because he definitely did not want to know. “If you could not talk about other men while you’re naked in my bed, that would be great,” he suggested.

  Her next words ignored his advice and rekindled his ardor.

  “I didn’t sleep with Bobby Ray,” she told him. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I had.”

  He brushed a quick kiss on her lips. “Where’s your purse?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised. Then he slid from the bed, quickly wrapped himself in his robe and took the stairs two at a time.

  He was gone less than a minute. When he handed her the purse, she unzipped the side pouch of her purse and pulled out a handful of condoms.

  He took one and set the others on top of the night table, then tore open the package and quickly sheathed himself.

  “Wow,” Fallon commented. “It really does glow.”

  “Give me a minute,” he said. “And you’ll be saying ‘wow’ for a different reason.”

  Her lips curved as she reached for him, her hands eagerly exploring his body, sliding over his chest, his shoulders and down his back.

  The muscles in his arms quivered with the effort of holding himself over her as he fought against the primitive instinct to drive into her, hard and deep. Instead he slowly eased into her. Despite her obvious arousal, his entry wasn’t easy. She was tighter than he’d expected, and he could feel the tension in her body as she braced herself to take him.

  He was a little tense, too, trying not to think about the fact they were passing the point of no return. Then he kissed her again, slowly and deeply until he felt some of the tension leave her body, and he eased in a little deeper.

  He was trying to hold onto his patience, to show some restraint, but Fallon apparently decided that she was having none of that. She lifted her legs to hook them at his back and tilted her hips to pull him deeper, gasping with shock as he finally pushed through a barrier he hadn’t expected to encounter.

  He froze, as shocked disbelief penetrated the euphoria of his arousal.

  “You were a virgin,” he realized.

  “Can we save the talking for later?” she suggested.

  His fingers curled into the comforter, and he gripped the fabric tightly in his fists. “I think we need to talk about this.”

  But she shook her head. “Not now. Please, Jamie. I’ve waited too long for this—for you—to stop now.”

  Then, just in case the words weren’t sufficient to make him lose the tenuous grip on his self-control, she started to move her hips again. Whatever she lacked in experience, she more than made up for with enthusiasm, and he finally gave himself over to the passion that consumed them both.

  * * *

  Fallon had dreamed of making love with Jamie, but even her most vivid and erotic dreams did not compare to the reality. Even without knowing he was her first, he’d been a careful and attentive lover, ensuring her pleasure before taking his own. She exhaled a contented sigh, though she knew the blissful peace of the moment wouldn’t last.

  Jamie would have questions, and he’d demand answers, and though the last thing she wanted to do was dissect the most amazing experience of her life, she understood that she at least owed him an explanation.

  “You should have told me,” he said.

  “I figured you already had enough reasons for not wanting to get naked with me without adding any more to the list.”

  “I don’t know that I would have been able to stop myself from making love with you,” he admitted. “But I do know I would have been more careful.”

  She stroked a hand down his back, because now that she’d finally had the opportunity to touch him, she didn’t want to stop. “You didn’t hurt me, Jamie.”

  “Are you sure?”

 
; “I realize that I’m the inexperienced one here, but I would have figured the fact that I climaxed a few times and bit down on your shoulder so that I didn’t shout would be clues that I had a pretty good time.”

  His lips curved. “A pretty good time, huh?”

  “But maybe I should be asking how it was for you,” she realized.

  “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

  “Of course, it has been fifteen months since you’ve had sex,” she reminded him.

  He brushed his lips against hers, softly, sweetly.

  “You were amazing,” he said again.

  But she could tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he was still worried about something, and she had a pretty good idea about the cause of his concern.

  “I wasn’t saving myself for anyone—or for any particular reason,” she told him, unwilling to admit—even to herself—that she had done exactly that. “So please don’t make this into something bigger than it is.”

  “It is pretty big,” he told her.

  “Now you’re just bragging,” she admonished.

  It took him a second, then he chuckled softly. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you, Fallon O’Reilly?”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “The very best way.”

  * * *

  When Jamie slid out of bed a short while later to check on the kids and let the puppies outside, Fallon decided to sneak into his shower. She wasn’t embarrassed by or ashamed of what had happened between them, but she didn’t want to advertise it, either. She turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature, then stepped beneath the spray.

  She had just lathered up a washcloth with soap when the curtain was yanked back, making her yelp.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, when Jamie stepped into the shower with her.

  “I’m a conservationist and I’m saving water.”

  She instinctively crossed her arms over her body.

  Jamie chuckled. “Have you forgotten that I’ve already seen every inch of your body?”

  “Not under bright lights,” she argued.

  “A definite oversight,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and pulling her hands away.

  “You are so beautiful, Fallon. So perfect.”

  “I’m not even close to being perfect,” she denied.

  “A wise woman once told me that perfect doesn’t have to mean without flaws but only what fulfills your need in the moment.”

  “Didn’t I already fulfill your need?”

  He smiled as he slid his hands up her back. “Yeah, but I need you again.”

  “Do you now?”

  “I have a feeling that you could become an addiction,” he told her.

  She wanted to believe he was telling her the truth, that his desire for her could be even half as deep and real as her need for him. At the same time, she was trying to tread carefully. Because while the physical aspect of their relationship was new territory, she’d accepted her feelings for him a long time ago.

  She was still trying to decide on an appropriate response when he lathered up his hands and began to spread the soap over her body, effectively scrubbing all rational thoughts from her brain.

  “What are you doing?” she asked instead.

  “Showing you there are more benefits to sharing a shower than just saving water.”

  He nudged her under the spray, to wash away the suds, then dipped his head to touch his lips to the cluster of freckles on her shoulder, then trailed his mouth across her collarbone. “Your skin is so soft.”

  “Your body is so hard,” she noted, letting her hands explore the rugged contours of his shoulders, his pecs, his abs. And lower. She boldly wrapped her fingers around the rigid length of him. “All over.”

  He slapped a hand against the shower wall behind her and closed his eyes. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”

  “Actually, I think I’m a pretty slow learner. In fact, we’re probably going to have to practice over and over again before I really figure this out.”

  “Over and over again?”

  “Over—” she stroked him again, slowly, from base to tip, and back again “—and over.”

  * * *

  A long time later, after they’d made love again—this time in the bed—and his heart rate had finally slowed to something approximating normal, Jamie wrapped a strand of damp hair around his finger and tugged gently. “There they are.”

  She blinked slowly, as if trying to bring the world back into focus. “What?”

  He smiled, gratified to know that he’d rocked her world as completely as she’d rocked his. “Your curls,” he said. “I thought they were gone forever.”

  “I wish.”

  “I don’t. I like your curls.”

  She seemed surprised by that admission. “You do?”

  He nodded. “And as much as I like the way you look in a short skirt, you’re every bit as appealing in a pair of jeans.”

  She made a sound of disbelief. “You never looked at me twice until I started wearing skirts,” she pointed out to him.

  “I always looked,” he told her. “I just never let you see me looking.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was afraid that if I tried to turn our friendship into something more and it didn’t work out, I’d lose my best friend.”

  “And now?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m still worried,” he admitted. “I don’t ever want to lose you, Fallon.”

  “You won’t lose me,” she told him. “But I do have to leave your bed right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s late and we both have to get up early.”

  “It’s not that late,” he said, though she could tell he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

  “And your sister’s going to be home soon.”

  “Maybe,” he acknowledged.

  “Do you really want to explain this—” she gestured between the two of them “—to Bella?”

  “Not tonight,” he admitted.

  She brushed her lips to his. “And that’s why I need to go.”

  He slid a hand up her thigh to settle at the curve of her butt. “Are you here tomorrow?”

  “Ten months,” she said, shaking her head. “And you still don’t know the schedule.”

  “The schedule keeps changing,” he said in his defense.

  “I’ve always done Monday and Thursday mornings, full days on Wednesdays and the occasional Saturday.”

  “So I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “Yes, you’ll see me in the morning,” she assured him.

  “Good.” He framed her face in his hands and brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her softly, deeply.

  “And if you want to see me the following night, you could give me a call and ask me to go to the Candlelight Walk with you, Henry, Jared and Katie,” she suggested.

  “You’re determined to drag us out to that, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s just an idea, but I know that’s where I’m going to be Friday night.”

  “I’ll give you a call,” he promised.

  Chapter Twelve

  She was twenty-four years old and sneaking into her house as if she were a teenager out past curfew.

  Fallon had no experience with that kind of subversive behavior. As a teenager, she’d never broken curfew. She’d always been a good girl, a rule follower. Tonight, she’d broken a lot of rules, and she couldn’t deny that it felt pretty darn good.

  How many times had she sat in the high school cafeteria listening to her friends and classmates recount and evaluate their sexual experie
nces, without having anything to add to the conversation? Truthfully, she’d always suspected that sex was overhyped. She knew better now.

  Tonight, she’d made love with the man she loved, and the experience had surpassed every one of her expectations.

  The only tiny niggling concern was that she didn’t know how Jamie felt about her. Suggesting that he might become addicted to her was the closest he’d come to any kind of emotional declaration, and that was okay. She understood that men didn’t engage their emotions as readily as women did. She also understood that he might still be grieving the loss of his wife. Maybe he was even still in love with his wife.

  That possibility took a little bit of the spring from her step. She’d never believed that Paula deserved him, but she’d supported his choices because he was her friend, because she loved him and wanted him to be happy. She’d sincerely hoped that Paula would make him happy, and she had—for a while. But Fallon knew there had been issues and tensions in their marriage—as there were in any marriage—and Paula had died before they could be resolved, one way or another.

  As a result, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn that Jamie had some lingering feelings for his wife—the mother of his children. She only hoped those feelings wouldn’t prevent him from letting himself fall in love and be loved again.

  She was tiptoeing toward the stairs when she heard the scrabbling sound of paws and a trio of excited yips from Duchess—the puppy her parents had chosen from Andy and Molly’s littermates.

  “Shh,” she admonished, crouching to scratch behind the pup’s ears.

  Duchess dropped to the ground then rolled onto her back, a not-so-subtle demand for Fallon to rub her belly—which she did, because she knew it would keep her quiet.

  After she’d fussed over the animal for a few minutes, she pointed toward the kitchen. “Now go back to bed.”

  Surprisingly, the dog obeyed her command and Fallon headed up the stairs. At the top, she turned automatically toward her bedroom—and nearly bumped into Brenna, who had just stepped out of the bathroom.

  Her sister blinked, as if trying to focus in the darkness. “Fallon?”

  “Hey, Brenna,” she whispered softly.