by Toni Blake
“Your place?” she asked, to make sure. But it came out whispery because she was still stroking him and the small of her back ached deliciously.
“Mmm,” he confirmed, low, deep, killing the engine.
Okay, who cared how big his house was—she just wanted to get him naked.
“Ready?” he asked. The rain had slacked off a little, but still fell hard.
“Very.”
So Mike threw open his door and together they ran for the porch. Both were freshly soaked by the time he stabbed a key at the front door, then shoved it open.
Dusk and gray skies made the interior dark, but at the moment, Rachel didn’t care about seeing it anyway—she’d just become very single-minded. And clearly, Mike felt the same since he didn’t bother with lights—he simply tossed his keys on a table with a loud jangle, turned to her in the entryway, lifted his hands back to her face, and gave her a long, heated kiss.
They were both breathless, panting, as Mike reached down to the hem of her drenched top and peeled it over her head—she held her arms up to help him remove it. His eyes dropped to her breasts, so hers did, too—to find that the rain had turned her pink lacy bra completely transparent. Instinctively, she reached behind her back to the hook, letting the wet bra loosen, then fall from her shoulders and off.
“Jesus God,” he whispered. Her breasts had never felt more sensitive in her life, more in need of attention.
But the rest of her was in need, too, so she was already moving on, curling her fingers into his tee and vigorously stripping it off him, as well. Then they both kicked off their shoes and worked at each other’s zippers, pushing, tugging, wiggling—until finally they stood completely naked together in the shadowy light.
“Damn,” Mike said, sounding…a little weakened, she thought. Yet he regained his strength to add, “You’re beautiful.”
Rachel bit her lip, whispering, “You, too.” Because he was. All muscle and sinew, his body was…flawless. And yes, she’d seen him naked before, in the concession stand, but this was different. Because the terrifying truth was, now it mattered. Because now…she cared. Edna was right. Amy was right. She cared, damn it. And she could lie about it, but that didn’t change it.
And so it somehow moved her more deeply to study the dark stubble on his jaw, the smattering of hair on his broad chest, his muscled stomach. It somehow moved her more to feast her gaze on his majestically hard erection—because it was for her, just for her; she’d made him that way. She’d made him that way before, of course, but this was the first time she’d really known it—that this was more than just chemistry, more than just two bodies lusting.
She bit her lip, met his gaze, and felt far too needy at the moment. Like some other girl. Some…softer girl than she’d ever been.
And then they were on each other, kissing again, touching. She looped her arms around his neck—his fell about her waist. That amazingly hard part of him pressed against her where she was the softest. She moaned against his mouth and sank still deeper into him, absorbing his warmth, and the dampness of their skin coming together.
Mike’s kisses dropped to her neck, then her chest. Soon, she found herself arching toward him, silently begging him to kiss her breasts. The only time he ever had was in the concession stand, and again, that seemed so long ago now—like another lifetime. Of course, as she’d recognized before in brief honest moments, even then things with him hadn’t been…normal. Normal for her. Even then she’d cared about his opinion of her, and she’d felt unable to hold back, unable to say no.
When finally his tongue raked across one sensitive nipple, she gasped her pleasure as it rippled all through her. She instinctually rubbed the juncture of her thighs against his hardness. She watched as he took the turgid peak into his mouth, then suckled firmly.
“Oh…” she moaned—the sensation shot through her body like a rocket, landing directly between her thighs. And as she moved against him more, more, she felt her own wetness—much slicker than any moisture left from the rain.
Mike’s hands slid to her ass as he ground against her, guiding their bodies into a more sensual rhythm. “Oh God,” she murmured, because it felt so good, too good. Better than she’d known it could. So good that…oh Lord, she was going to come this way. Just from this. She bit her lip, let out a ragged breath, closed her eyes. She was getting lost in it, overwhelmed by it—she couldn’t stop it.
And then suddenly Mike’s palms closed tight over her bottom and he hoisted her slightly upward even as he backed her against the nearest wall. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said low in her ear, and she obeyed, locking her ankles in back—just before he thrust himself inside her.
“Oh!” she cried out, slightly shocked—by the entry itself, and by how incredibly well he filled her. Which edged her cry into more of a moan. “Ohhh…oh, Mike.”
“Aw, honey, you’re so wet for me,” he growled in her ear.
And then she resumed the same rhythm as before, her body taking back over, her mind going numb as the sensations swept her away again, that quickly, and she whispered, “I’m gonna come.”
She caught her breath over and over as the orgasm rolled through her, sweet and surprisingly long—especially considering that her back was pressed against a hard wall. She shut her eyes and soaked up every hot pulse, riding him, feeling him inside her, aware of every spot where his body touched hers. As the scintillating waves eased, she could smell him, smell the rain on him, the dirt from the softball field, the manly scent of him, and she found herself wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, clinging to him, holding on as if for dear life. And she had no idea why, no idea except…oh God, this must be what it’s like to start falling for a guy.
“You okay, baby?” he whispered deeply in her ear.
Mmm, he’d called her baby. But he was also asking her if she was okay—because she was clutching at him like her very existence depended on it. Yet all she could manage was, “Mmm-hmm.”
“Mmm,” he purred. “Was that good?”
She nodded against his shoulder. “Really good.”
“I thought so,” he said—surprisingly without a shred of arrogance—as he carried her across the room, still inside her, to lower her onto a couch, on her back. His erection never left her—and thank God, because she loved the way it made her feel so utterly connected to him.
He lay on top of her, their eyes meeting in the darkness, and with his big hands still bracketing her hips, he began to deliver deep, delicious thrusts in a slow rhythm that made her feel thoroughly possessed by him. In a good way.
Oh Lord, she wanted to be possessed? By a man? Who was she? But she couldn’t think right now—she could only feel, she could only soak each deep plunge into her body, could only drink in the low, sexy groans he emitted with every one.
Soon, she was moaning from the lush sensations—they stretched all through her. And she looked up into his dark eyes the whole time, discovering it was another way to feel connected to him.
She’d never cared so much for a man’s pleasure before; she’d never felt so very…as if they were in this together, to give pleasure as well as to receive. And she knew it was silly, because surely this was just like the first two times they’d had sex—but the feeling permeated her completely anyway.
She never wanted it to end. She hoped he could see on her face how lost she was to him, to his every touch, his every slow, deep drive. She wanted him to hold her forever. She wanted their arms and legs to be tangled up together for the rest of their lives. In that moment, she wanted everything with him, everything in the world there was to have with a man. She begged him, “Kiss me,” because she needed that further connection, as well as all the others.
He pushed one hand back through her damp hair, then lowered his mouth to hers. She touched his face, the stubble on his cheek. She lifted to meet his slow, magnificent strokes. She felt—insanely perhaps—like she was floating on a perfect cloud with him, like she’d found true serendipity.
/> “Aw…aw, honey,” he growled, and his hips jerked against her—reflexively, she thought, almost beyond his control, and she liked it. “Baby. Baby, I’m gonna come in you. I’m gonna come in you.”
Rachel bit her lower lip as his thrusts grew faster, harder—she met each, empowered by knowing she’d taken him here. She wanted it to be the most intense climax of his life.
And then he was growling, calling out, as he drove into her again, again, and she loved knowing he was leaving something of himself inside her there. It was the first time she’d ever felt such an emotion and her whole body went warm as he finally relaxed against her, resting his head alongside hers. The scruff of his beard lightly abraded her shoulder.
“Jesus,” he breathed in her ear.
“What?”
“Good,” was the only word he got out.
As his eyes fell shut, Rachel lifted her hand to touch his bare shoulder where he lay across her chest; she turned to peer at his face in the semi-darkness. And she suffered the full measure of just how very joined she felt to him. It was almost painful. Wrenching. Like if she made love to him day and night for the rest of her life, it would never be enough—she’d always want more. Then her own eyes fell shut—because they kind of ached, felt strange. She clenched her teeth. What was going on here?
And then she realized. She was crying a little.
She hadn’t recognized it because she never cried. Ever. Not since she was a kid.
Damn it—what the hell was that about?
Reaching up, she turned her face away from his and quickly wiped the wetness away. How weird. And she was trapped between not being sure she liked it, not at all—and how oddly caught up in the moment she still felt, how strangely consumed by the intimacy. She lay in the darkness, looking into the shadows of the room, of his home, his life, amazed she’d ended up here—naked beneath Mike Romo. Or in Destiny at all, for that matter.
A few minutes later, Mike’s weight lifted off her and then a light came on.
When she peeked up, she found him looking down at her from the foot of the couch. He remained beautifully naked, but his eyes clouded over a little. “What’s going on? You okay?”
Oh, shit. There was still a pesky tear or two leaking free.
She tried to blink it away, then said, “Just…something in my eye.”
Mike tilted his head. “Are you serious, Farris—something in your eye? Could that answer be any more lame?”
She let out a sigh, feeling pretty lame, and not the least bit surprised her Officer Romeo had called her on it. “Okay, I was just thinking…about Edna,” she fudged, sitting up a little to prop her head on some throw pillows.
Mike’s gaze narrowed in concern. “What about her? She isn’t sick or anything?”
“Oh—no, nothing like that.” She pursed her lips, pondering it. “It’s just…I think her knees cause her a lot of pain. And even as sturdy and hardworking as she is, she’s…getting older, slower—I can see it.”
Mike came around the end of the couch and used one hand to lift up her ankles and take a seat beneath them, lowering her feet atop his firm thigh. “Hard to watch them age, isn’t it?” he asked.
And she nodded. “There’s even a part of me that keeps thinking maybe I should find a way to take over the orchard, just to keep it in the family…but I can’t. I have a job to go back to. It’s not something I could just give up.” She shook her head against the pillows and realized as the words spilled from her that they were all true—this was just the first time she’d allowed herself to fully acknowledge the feelings. That if she didn’t feel so bound by other commitments, maybe she would want the orchard.
“Would it be so horrible,” Mike asked, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, “if the orchard ended up with me? I’d take good care of it.”
“I know you would,” she admitted. “But it would just be…the end of an era. It would feel wrong to me for the Farris name to no longer be attached to it. Your grandpa might have built it, but I played there, I had holidays and Sunday dinner there, I grew up there. So did all my cousins, and my dad, and my aunts and uncles. It’s really…home to us.” And God, that was when it hit her—she hadn’t known she felt that way until right now. Until this moment, her home had been in Chicago—but now, suddenly, home was the orchard. She’d been trying to hate Destiny since she came back, but she just didn’t anymore.
“So if you want it so bad,” he asked, looking down at her, “why can’t you give up your job? I know the orchard isn’t the most profitable business around, but it could be, with a little modernization.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I think the same thing, but Edna refuses to hear it.”
“And I’m betting you have enough money socked away that you wouldn’t have to worry about starving in the meantime.”
How strange it was to be lying stretched out naked on Mike Romo’s couch, chatting with him as easily as if they were dressed. But the topic he’d just broached was…complicated at best. And how strange it felt to realize…she was going to tell him the truth, the truth even Tessa and Amy didn’t know. But for some reason, she needed him to know.
“You’re right, I’m doing fine on money,” she said. “But the rest of my family…not so much.”
It was an awkward thing to say, and Mike didn’t respond, so Rachel tried to go on. Except it was difficult, being the topic she least liked to think about. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Some of them have kept it camouflaged, and others haven’t, but either way, most Farrises don’t handle money well. I became aware of it at an early age, and I’ve spent my whole life being embarrassed and worried by it.”
“Embarrassed?” he asked, looking truly perplexed.
She sighed. “My great aunt Liddie and her famous bad checks?” she reminded him. “My cousin Robby always borrowing money from people he can’t pay back? And then there was Uncle Gary’s insurance fraud—the time he parked his Trans Am on the railroad tracks because he couldn’t make the payments? Do I have to go on?”
He appeared to be making a stab at a sympathetic smile. “Okay, guess I do remember those things.”
“And don’t forget what you said when we first met—about Farrises not abiding by the law.”
He looked slightly remorseful. “I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known you and I would ever end up…like this.” He motioned vaguely to their bodies.
“Well, I’m just saying that when the whole town thinks of your family that way, it’s hard. Especially when you’re just a kid, growing up.”
“So…what, then? You’ve got some phobia about going broke and being forced to put your Beamer in the path of an oncoming train?”
“Well, in a way, maybe. Not the train part, but the going-broke part. I always knew I wanted to leave Destiny and lead a different kind of life—and I guess a lot of that was about money worries. I knew if I didn’t get out of this town I’d never be any more than another scrambling-to-make-ends-meet Farris. And I didn’t want to live like that. And I guess I also wanted to fix it all somehow, by making them all proud, and…maybe even by covering up their shortcomings. So…it’s not just me I’m worried about.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
And Rachel sighed. This part was even harder to confide. She wasn’t sure why—maybe because it felt so personal to her, like a scarlet letter she was forced to wear but kept hidden. Or maybe she feared it was a betrayal to her parents to talk about this—especially with a Romo. But she still wanted to tell him. Maybe she wanted to get it off her chest.
“The money issues,” she began again, “stretch into my immediate family. My parents never let it show, but they’ve secretly always been in debt. Even now, they have a nice house not far from me, in the suburbs, and they lease a new car every two years—but they’re so over-extended that I get sick just thinking about it. And someday, it’s gonna come back to haunt them in a big way.” She sighed. “Or should I say haunt me?”
She
blinked, still somewhat embarrassed, and wondering if he got the picture yet. “The point is, when my parents or Edna reach some critical point where they really can’t get by anymore, who’s gonna be there to keep a roof over their heads?”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “You, I’m guessing?”
She sighed. “Right.”
He knit his brow. “What exactly is it you do in your job, Farris, that makes you able to provide for the entire Farris clan?”
“I’ve told you before, I work at an ad agency.”
“Making up slogans and stuff?”
“Not anymore. I started out on the creative end, but then I was promoted and now I manage a team of people and bring in new clients and try to keep them convinced that we’re the best place to invest their advertising dollars. I kind of miss the creative work sometimes, but then…I’m usually so busy that I don’t have time to miss it.”
“So, do you love what you do? Is it important to you? Satisfying?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. It’s…it’s…the life I always dreamed of.” But…why had that last part come out sounding so halfhearted? It was the life she’d dreamed of.
“You know, it’s none of my business, but…” He trailed off.
“What? Spit it out.”
“Well, that’s an awful damn big burden to put on yourself. To hold yourself responsible for cleaning up other people’s messes. I have a hard enough time just trying to clean up my own.”
She wondered if he was talking about the loss of his little sister, but simply pointed out, “Not just other people. My family. I might be embarrassed by them sometimes, but at the same time, I want…to protect them. I wish I could make it so no one would be able to look down on them anymore. I wish I could just…restore a little pride to the Farris name.” Rachel’s last words lingered in the air, then settled around her. Maybe she hadn’t quite realized the last part before now, before talking about it, out loud.