by Cara McKenna
“Where are we?” she asked, setting her helmet on his seat.
“Just about the middle of nowhere.” He swung the beam around until he seemed to recognize something in the distance. “Which is exactly where I want to be with you.”
He aimed the light at the ground and took her hand.
“And how far are we hiking, exactly?”
“Not far.” He paused and trained the beam ahead, illuminating something pale, perhaps fifty yards away. “Just there.”
“This better be good,” she teased, her boots shucking through scrub grass and kicking unseen rocks.
“I sure as hell hope you’ll think so.”
In due time, the identity of the pale object was revealed—a heap of folded blankets sitting on a boulder. Miah let her hand go to crouch. An electric lantern came to life, bathing the scene in its eerie blue-white light.
Raina eyed the spread. “Wow. You don’t mess around.” A bonfire was prepped and ready for lighting, and nearby a bottle of whiskey and two glasses waited in a basket. A pair of foam sleeping pads were folded at the foot of the rock.
“You want to make us a nice soft place to sit,” he asked, “while I get the fire going?”
“Sure.” For no good reason, Raina was shy all of a sudden. It wasn’t something she felt often, but in this case, it wasn’t a bad sensation, really. Just a soft one. She rarely thought of herself as soft. She wondered if Miah did. If he could sense it now.
She kicked the larger rocks aside and arranged the foam pads side by side. Miah had brought three thick wool blankets, and she spread two on top, thinking they’d want the third to huddle under. As she hauled the basket over, she heard the first crackle, and looked up to find Miah crouched before a flickering, nascent fire. It painted his skin gold, and in that moment she felt as though she could have been peering into the past—looking at some intrepid pioneer from 1850, if not for the too-modern jacket crumpled at his side. He’d pushed up his sleeves, exposing his forearms, and Raina bit her lip. She couldn’t resist a nicely turned forearm.
By the time she had two shots of whiskey poured, the fire was blazing bright and warm. Miah unlaced his boots and joined her on their primitive little bed in his socks, sitting close enough for their thighs to touch. They had to turn their heads to look each other in the eyes, and that shy sensation deepened. He smiled at her, the gesture broad and easy.
“You did good,” she told him, and offered a glass. They clicked them together and sipped. After a taste, she said, “Very nice. Better than most of what I stock.”
“I think some feed rep gave us that bottle—it’s probably aged an extra five years, collecting dust in the liquor cabinet.”
“Lucky me.”
“Lucky us,” he said softly, gaze moving between her eyes and mouth and back again.
“This where you were going to take me last night, before things got sidetracked?”
“I thought I might take us to the hot springs, actually. I didn’t have the fire or the blankets ready, but a hot soak would’ve done the job.”
Yes, that would’ve been nice indeed . . . Hot, restless water around their naked bodies, cool night air on their hands and faces as they kissed. And all these stars above . . . Okay, she could find some up-sides to his issues with the indoors.
“Just promise me if this keeps happening, a bed will feature at some point.”
He smiled. “Bed of a truck count?”
She whapped his arm. “You’ve got psychological problems, you know that? If it wasn’t for this claustrophobia bull, you’d be the most normal man in Fortuity. How come you’re okay inside Benji’s, or your house, or the stables or any other place, but I can’t lure you up to my bedroom?”
His gaze went to the fire, his expression a touch bashful. “I dunno. It’s different when it’s sex.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s different with sex, because . . . You know. A man’s got to be relaxed, for things to . . .” He rolled his shoulders, implying some kind of revving-up process.
“Ah. So you can’t get it up indoors?” She poked his arm, feeling like they were teenagers again. “That it?”
He sighed, smiled. “I just like it better outside, okay? I can breathe out here. Indoors, there never feels like there’s enough air.” He met her eyes again. “And there’s certain moments when a man doesn’t want to be distracted by crap like that. When he wants to be focused on more important things. I mean, you’re afraid of bats, right?”
She shuddered. He was probably still hard of hearing from her scream when they’d been kids, poking around the abandoned mines with Vince and Casey and Alex. And she’d likely given half the bats tiny little coronaries. Served them right. “As everyone should be.”
“Well, how amorous do you think you’d feel if you tried to fool around, knowing there was a bat in the room?”
“I don’t see how that’s the same at all, but fine. I submit. We’ll work around your crazy.”
“Good.” He tapped her tumbler with his again, and drank. He set the empty glass aside and pulled the spare blanket over, draping it around their shoulders. His cold hand found hers, and he laced their fingers atop his knee. For a few minutes, they watched the popping, crackling fire—gold sparks chasing up into the black sky, and all those silver pinpoints above them.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly.
“So am I.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week. Especially after last night.”
She blushed, and was thankful it was so dark. “I had a long day myself, wondering if you might show up.”
Miah freed her hand and turned, and she did the same, blanket falling away. He spread his legs and she sat between them, facing him. She studied his throat, touched the collar of his long-sleeved thermal.
His facial hair seemed to follow a steady pattern born of neglect, cycling from a clean shave to thick stubble, and sometimes all the way to beardhood before he found his razor and started it over again. It was in the middle now, and she touched his jaw, memorizing that soft prickle against her fingertips.
In turn, he touched her hair, smoothing the errant strands at her temples, then reaching back and freeing the elastic snapped around her ponytail. His eyes darted between hers as his thumbs stroked her cheeks. It felt so insanely tender and innocent, the two of them simply studying each other. She knew this man so well in some ways, but at this moment, the tiniest details fascinated her. Things she’d never noticed, despite this face being as familiar as just about anyone’s—the shapes of his eyebrows, every tiny line of his skin, and the rare white hairs dotted amid the sea of black in his beard. His lips. His eyes, as dark as the night sky and reflecting yellow fire. It was like he was a stranger somehow. Like there had been a secret version of Jeremiah Church all along, a side she’d never met before.
He broke the silence, his words as warming as the fire. “You’re the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen.”
She looked away, smiling like a dork. Raina was used to getting hit on, used to being told she was sexy and things like that. And being told she was beautiful, sure, though usually by drunk, sentimental types, or during awkward come-ons by men who didn’t know she wasn’t the sort of girl you sweet-talked. But those words, from this man’s mouth, so close to hers . . . In a voice she knew well, even if just now it felt as though it belonged to someone all together new.
“You were always handsome,” she said. “But tonight it almost feels like I’ve never laid eyes on you before.”
He didn’t reply, except to kiss her. Light and silent, his lips brushing hers, flirting. She flirted right back, holding his head, letting him feel her hunger and fascination, every fierce thing bubbling up from inside.
The bonfire and her body were blazing in tandem, and she paused their kissing to shed her jacket and boots. Miah did the same with his thermal, and just the flex of his triceps as he peeled it away left her dry-mouthed and eager.
“C’mere,” she said, tugging at his undershirt. She urged him to lie with her, on their sides, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him deeply. The position only cut it for a minute before she needed more—his weight above her, their centers locked. She pulled on his belt and he took the hint, getting his knees between hers, his elbows beside her ribs. Never coy, she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew his hips tight to her.
There was no mistaking he was hard, not even through their jeans. As he pressed close, a low moan rose from his throat, getting her as hot as the stiff heat of him between her legs.
He must have felt just as fevered, as he paused to sit up and strip away his undershirt.
Her lips parted. Good God, he was perfect. Long, taut muscles moving under tan skin—though not as tan as on his face and forearms. Miah’s was a body built by laborious days on the range, strong and lean and capable. He’d probably never owned a set of weights in his life, probably didn’t waste his precious little free time on sit-ups, yet his arms were cut and his belly hard and contoured. His beard belied the rest of him—he had just a little chest hair, a dark dusting between his pectorals, plus a trail from his navel, downward. Not a dot of ink anywhere on him, and the tattooer in Raina yearned to brand that gorgeous, smooth skin, mark it forever.
Mine, she wanted to scrawl on him.
If only for a little while.
He lowered his body once more and she touched all those tempting planes and shadows, utterly infatuated. He touched her in turn while they kissed, cupping her breast, squeezing softly. She wished her tank and bra would disappear so she could feel those rough palms on her bare skin. The thought had her nipple tensing, and that alone changed the pitch of Miah’s breathing, until he was all but panting against her mouth.
Raina reached down to edge her top up her waist. Miah sat up, attention rapt. She peeled the cotton away, and he took the next step, slipping his hands under her back, fumbling with her bra clasp. As the seconds wore on and his expression grew exasperated, she smiled and mussed his hair. “Need help?”
“How many hooks has this thing got?”
“It’s like an IQ test.”
And finally he solved it, the band going slack around her ribs and his hands sliding free. He didn’t take it off right away, but slipped the cups down to expose her. She didn’t even feel the cold—his gaze had to be about three hundred degrees.
He uttered a nearly inaudible, “Goddamn,” then lay those rough palms on her. Her eyes shut and she gripped his shoulders. His hands felt just as they should. He fondled her gently, then bolder. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she gasped, hips flexing, her thighs squeezing his involuntarily.
When his head came down, she threaded her fingers through his thick hair, holding her breath as she waited for the contact. First came his breath—a hot, tight exhalation—then the teasing drag of his lower lip.
“Please,” she murmured, stroking his hair.
A soft laugh. “Can’t remember ever hearing you beg for something before.”
He was right—Raina wasn’t one to plead for anything, but she’d break that rule for this man. He knew her so well in so many ways; he deserved to know how badly she wanted him.
She drew her nails over his scalp. “Maybe I never had anything worth begging for until now.”
He rewarded her for that, closing her nipple in his warm lips.
“God, Miah.” She shut her eyes, held him close, got lost in the slick heat of the kiss. He was a physical man, right down to his core, and she felt the truth of that now, from just this tiny act. The length of his body was tense, hard arms restless at her sides, hips pumping faintly. He’d know how to handle her, she could feel it already. He could train horses and calm angry steer—no doubt he’d take pleasure in mastering a woman’s body, as well.
He spoiled her breast, then the other, until need had her panting and this sensual submission felt too slow, too subtle. She wanted to see him, every inch of his bare skin. Wanted to touch him everywhere, make him moan and sigh and beg, just as he’d done to her. Wanted to take things too far, way out here by the light of this bonfire, under all these stars.
“C’mere.” She tugged at his shoulders, and with a final tease of his tongue, he pushed himself up. Cool air stung her skin, and the mere sight of his braced arms had more pleas nagging at her lips.
“Goddamn, you look good.” She stroked his chest, drinking him in.
“You want to take this farther?”
“As far as it goes.”
A flicker of a smile passed over his face, then he moved to kneel between her legs. Raina tossed her bra aside as his hands went to her belt. He opened the buckle with slow, savoring motions, his gaze transfixed. Her fly was next—button freed, zipper lowered—and he tugged at her jeans enough to take in her underwear, then lay his warm palm on her mound, fingertips tickling her belly. She stroked his shoulders and studied his face until impatience got the upper hand.
“You next,” she said, nodding to his waist.
He made quick work of his own belt and fly, then stood, easing his jeans down his legs. He kicked them and his socks into a pile, and Raina followed suit. When he lay with her next they were naked save for their underwear.
The time for surrender was over—she wanted to be the one doing, now, wanted it so bad the need was a wildfire in her belly. She pushed at his chest until he rolled onto his back, then straddled his waist.
His excitement took her breath away—stiff, pressed right along her sex. She couldn’t even move at first, the sensation like a shock. He was patient, kneading her bare thighs, studying her breasts, with only the heat of his stare giving away how edgy he must be.
“How long have you wanted this?” she whispered.
“A few months. Then real bad, the last couple weeks.”
“Poor baby. I’ve only wanted it since I was about sixteen.”
He laughed.
“And then real bad, the last couple weeks,” she echoed softly. Real bad, ever since she’d noticed the way he looked at her now, with a fire she’d never seen in those black eyes before.
“You wanna save anything for next time?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not a thing.” She began to move, drawing herself lightly along his erection, as much to tease him as to stay in control herself. She knew in a flash she could come from only this if she wanted.
He reached back to cup her ass with both hands, urging her motions, more eager than bossy. “Feels so good, honey.”
She swallowed, too clouded by lust to reply. Fuck, he was hard, and hot. Maybe only a little longer than average, but thick. Perfect. She rode him, letting the friction wind her tight, not caring if maybe she did lose control from just this.
Miah’s voice was tight, raw. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Feels fucking good.”
He bent his knees a little, and pushed against her with every down stroke.
“Fuck.”
There was awe in his eyes, and something warmer—delight, even amusement. “Whatever you want, honey. Take it.”
How was he not teetering on the brink himself?
She slowed, then stopped, chest rising with her panting breaths, heart beating quick. And there he lay beneath her, so calm and full of wonder. Well, if the boy had that much staying power, she wanted to lose herself watching him work.
“I need you. Now.” She moved her quaking legs and sat beside him, stripping her underwear away without ceremony. Their eyes were on each other as Miah did the same, exposing his dark cock to the open air. His crown gleamed in the firelight, slick with excitement. Raina knew the feeling.
“Condom?” she asked. She had them covered if he didn’t, but Miah reached for his jeans. Figured if he’d bothered with all this romantic scene-setting, he’d come prepared for all contingencies.
He stripped the wrapper and knelt between her legs, leaned in close. She watched him roll the rubber on with a steady hand, his other arm locke
d and strong, holding his weight.
“Ready?”
She nodded, attention on his hand, his cock.
He spread his knees a little wider and guided his head to her folds. Sweeping along her lips, he worked that slickness up his shaft, then eased inside. Her body welcomed him in one slow, smooth motion. Her palms were damp, plastered to his arms as he held steady, cock seated deep.
Finally, his expression betrayed the illusion of calm control. Even by the flickering fire she could see the dark flush staining his throat and lips and cheeks. Sweat shone on his brow. She touched his face, humbled by the awe humming through her body. Her nails rasped his stubble and a tremor seemed to move through him, culminating in a tight little buck of his hips.
She smiled to herself, pleased to have stolen back a bit of the power. Pleased that even flat on her back, she could leave a man helpless. She whispered, “Show me what you got.”
He showed her everything.
Showed her two hard, cut arms as he braced himself; showed her how a million hours on horseback had blessed him with hips whose talents she’d never dreamed of. Showed her that while you might think you knew a man, you never really could, not until you spoke to him just this way, body to body.
It was hard to believe she’d ever felt cold out here. They were burning hotter than that bonfire, and she could see sweat gleaming on his chest. He fucked with all the physical mastery she’d expected, like a man whose body was his livelihood—his life. There was a raw simplicity to him, a fierceness in the flex of his lean flesh and the bones flashing at his hips, his shoulders, the ribs and muscles that decorated his sides. His cock shone each time he withdrew, and no shock—she was wetter than she’d ever been before, it felt. She fucked him right back, as much as she could, with urging legs and grasping hands, hungry words and sounds and eyes.
In time, Miah seemed to hit a wall, groaning with more than excitement.
“Fuck, I can’t last forever, honey.” There was desperation in his voice, clashing with the steady motions of his body. “Tell me how to get you there.”
“I can do it. Just keep that up.” It would be this view as much as the friction of her fingers that brought her home. She slid a hand low and rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts, excitement mounting, tension building. She doubted she’d ever gotten this hot, this quick, the first time with a new lover.