And suddenly, she wanted to be very daring.
Laying her palm flat against his naked chest, Ainsley pushed back against Luke, holding him at arm’s length. The molten heat in his eyes quickly cooled to concern and confusion. The tiny imp inside her—the one she rarely let out—gleefully enjoyed Luke’s discomfort.
She’d set him off balance and that was a rare occurrence with Luke Collier.
Applying pressure to his shoulders and invading his space, she urged him down to the bed as she rose up and over him. His body folded beneath her, like a collapsible box. They moved together in harmony as if the change in position had been choreographed.
She straddled his body as he looked up at her; for once he was the vulnerable one. She could do anything she wanted. Or so she told herself. She could walk away. She could torture him until they both whimpered. She could indulge in every fantasy she’d ever had in those dark and lonely nights without him.
But she wouldn’t do any of those things. Not now. Now she simply wanted to indulge—herself and him. She longed to feel him, explore his body as he’d explored hers in the orchard. She wanted to know him again as intimately as she had before.
Running her hands down the length of his torso, she relished the way he arched into her touch. The way his eyes glittered as he silently watched her luxuriate in his masculinity.
The sprinkling of hair across his chest tickled the palms of her hands. The sensation was its own caress—one she never would have counted as sensual, yet somehow it was.
She leaned down to rain tiny kisses across his skin. The ticklish sides of his ribs, the sensitive discs of his puckered nipples, the flat plane of his belly. Every place she touched he instantly responded to her with jumping muscles, guttural groans and the eager jerk of his insistent erection.
She dropped her mouth lower, running just the tip of her tongue down the length of his sex. It wasn’t enough—for him or for her. But judging by his sharp intake of breath and the heat of her own spreading arousal, they both enjoyed the torment.
She scooted back on her knees to give herself unfettered access to what she wanted to play with most. She let the side of her tongue rub slowly up the length of his cock again, looking into his eyes just as she reached the sensitive head. His fingers fisted the sheets beside his body, rumpling them into a tight ball and popping the elastic away from the bed.
That small sound seemed to galvanize her. It was proof of the short leash he had on his control. She wanted to feel and hear that leash snap just for her.
Bending down, she took him into her mouth. Sucking him deep, she worked hard on his sex as she let him slip back out. She used her fingers and tongue, lips and teeth to tantalize and destroy them both.
When he finally reached for her, his fingers digging just as roughly into her skin as they had into the bed, he had her flat on her back and beneath him in seconds. The room whirled around her with the speed of her transition.
He crushed his body to hers, bringing them skin-to-skin and wrenching a moan from her throat. She realized this was the first time she’d fully touched him. Up until this point they’d been playing, tormenting each other. Now he was wholly against her and she wanted more. All of him.
“Condom.” She panted the word on a labored breath.
“Drawer.” His level of speech seemed to match hers. Somewhere in the back of her mind she found that gratifying. To know that she could affect him just as much as he affected her. That they could do this to each other.
His hand worked between them, forcing air where there hadn’t been any. He found her sex, wet, swollen and ready for him. He slipped a single finger inside and she arched against him, her muscles pulsing around his invasion.
Ainsley blindly reached to the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom from the package stashed there.
Her movements were jerky, her brain half-possessed with the pleasure he was drawing from her. But she wanted him so she was on a mission.
Ripping into the package, she reached for him, letting her fingers slide along the length of him as she rolled the condom down.
He was right there, at her entrance, ready to put her out of her misery. She was open to him, legs splayed, muscles straining, hips gyrating. And yet they both waited, prolonging the moment and drawing out the pleasure. As if they both feared this was their only chance.
Finally, she’d had enough. Flinging his hand away from her, she guided him to her center and waited for him to slide home.
He didn’t disappoint. But then, he never had. He thrust inside her. It took her a moment to stretch and accommodate him but once she did…
Her mind blurred, her body focusing on the single point where they connected. It was perfect; they were perfect together. He slid out again, drawing a whimper from her when she lost the sensation of him deep inside. She wanted him back again. She wanted him with her.
Ainsley wrapped her legs high around his hips, pushing her heels into his body and driving him back to her. Her hips thrust upward and the internal muscles of her sex clenched him, pulling even more pleasure from the friction of their play.
He whispered nonsense words into the cloud of her hair but the urgency and desperation in them were clear to her. Their echo deep inside her.
His hands brushed from her sides, down her arms, seeking something he couldn’t seem to find. Until his searching fingers twined with her own, bringing her hands up over her head.
The strength of his hold and the position of her body forced her tighter against him, bringing them closer together than she’d ever thought possible. His mouth found hers in the rush of pleasure and abandon, another connection between them.
His hold on her hands tightened, an unvoiced urging she wanted so much to obey and ignore all at once. The muscles of her sex began to quiver with the beginning throb of her release anyway. She tried to hold it off, tried to steal one more moment. But as his tongue and cock thrust deep into her body in unison, she lost all control.
The pleasure of him inside her again was just too much.
She bucked against him, pulsing and pulling as her body exploded, milking every last second of bliss she could get. If this was it, she wanted it all, whatever he’d give her. Whatever she could take.
Aftershocks were still racking her when a guttural groan of satisfaction burst from Luke’s lips. He ground into the open cradle of her thighs as his hips pumped into her with masculine abandon.
Her eyes threatened to flutter shut as the force of his release had her spasming on an echo of what he’d already given her.
Neither of them said anything as he rolled off, tucking her tight into the curve of his body and bringing the covers up over them both. There were no words, nothing left to say. Not in this moment.
Right now it was enough that his arms were tight across her stomach, holding her close to his warmth. Right now it was enough that they were together.
She was too exhausted to do anything anyway. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the consequences of their actions.
SHE WOKE UP. ALONE. In Luke’s bed.
The sensation was…unsettling. If he’d been beside her it might have been worse.
At least this way she could deal with the aftermath of her rash decisions alone.
Did she regret it? Not yet, but maybe eventually. For now, her body was too sated for regrets.
Stretching her arms over her head, Ainsley arched her back and relished the twinge of her stiff and sore muscles. She couldn’t resist a contented smile.
She hadn’t felt this good in…ever.
“Well, if that isn’t a cat-eating-the-canary grin I don’t know what is.” His words were a lazy drawl that startled the hell out of her. She jackknifed in the bed, reflexively grabbing for the covers to make sure she was decent.
The warmth of his chuckle oozed down her spine. “I think it’s a little late for modesty.”
He was braced in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one wide shoulder hold
ing him up. A worn pair of denims rode low on his hips, threatening to slip off.
Her mouth went dry and her tongue swelled to about five times its normal size. At least it felt that way. She hadn’t been tongue-tied and helpless since she was eight. But the sight of him, rumpled and sexy, about did her in.
Her heart raced, a combination of nerves and a desire to revisit what they’d shared last night. She had no idea what to say to him. The heat of a blush began to creep up her skin; she could feel the sting of it and wanted to smack herself.
Pushing away from the door frame, Luke walked toward her. “It’s late. Gran’s been up for a while but I thought you might need the sleep.” A smile touched the edges of his lips briefly. It fascinated her, that smile that wasn’t quite there. It was something she’d never seen him do before. In the past he’d been larger than life. He’d never censored anything, his thoughts, his emotions, his desires, his laughter. Everything with him had always been on the surface for everyone to see.
She was beginning to realize that wasn’t the case anymore.
“We need to leave for the service in an hour or so.”
His words brought a cloud over her thoughts. She’d been so wrapped up in the experience of last night that she’d forgotten what today brought with it—for him and for her.
His eyes dulled for a second before he reached for her and kissed her. She had almost no warning that it was coming. The kiss held the quiet power of connection, the leashed control of unfulfilled desire and the promise of more…later.
Luke let her go. Pulling back, he stood up from the bed and stared down at her, blinked and then was gone.
She sat there, slightly shaken and unsure of exactly what had just happened as she listened to his footsteps retreat down the worn stairs. She was so confused. By herself—her own desires and hopes and complicated dreams. By him—what he thought this was, what he thought he wanted.
Shaking her head, Ainsley realized now was not the time to contemplate all of this. In a little while she’d be playing hostess to half the county as everyone paid their last respects to Pops.
Right now, that’s what she needed to worry about. She could figure out the rest later.
Leaping from the bed, she saw a neat pile of her clothes sitting on the chair in the corner. Shorts, a T-shirt, bra and panties. Definitely not what she’d been wearing last night.
Another blush suffused her skin at the thought of Luke rummaging through her drawers. She didn’t ever really think about her wardrobe. Not much reason to when she spent so much time outdoors getting dirty, sticky and sweaty. But for once she was embarrassed. What had he seen? What had he thought?
However, that embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by another.
What had happened to her clothes from last night? His?
She could just imagine one of the seasonal workers coming across her ripped T-shirt beneath the peach trees. Or worse finding Luke’s shorts and shirt in a pile by the pond.
What would they think?
It took Ainsley less than a minute to decide it didn’t matter. She wasn’t ashamed of anything she’d done last night.
Given the chance, she’d do it all again.
It remained to be seen whether she’d get that chance.
THE CEREMONY WAS A BLUR. A whirlwind of people, stories, memories and tears. The oppressive heat and the advanced age of most of Pops’s friends meant the contingency that followed the hearse up the seldom-used gravel path to the family grave site was smaller. Most people had elected to stay inside the air-conditioned chapel at the church.
Ainsley sat beside Luke in the limo the funeral home had provided for the family. Gran sat on the opposite seat, across from them both. She looked tired and forlorn and he wished there was something he could do to help. But there wasn’t. Nothing he could say or do would bring back the man she’d loved for most of her life. She might have had a chance to prepare for the separation but it was clear that she felt his loss down to her soul. He’d never seen her so pale and…motionless. In all his memories she’d been a firecracker of a woman, able to bend every one of the men in her life to her will, either with honey or with vinegar—whichever the situation required.
He hated seeing her this way. It made him feel powerless.
Ainsley wasn’t much better. He didn’t think she’d moved from the moment she’d sat down beside him. Not a twitch, a cough, a fidget. She’d just turned her head and stared out the window as they’d driven the few miles onto the family property.
He knew she had loved Pops; he was the only grandfather-figure she’d ever known. And Pops had always thought of her as part of the family.
Luke wondered if her melancholy was entirely due to his grandfather’s passing. He wondered if this drive brought back memories of Logan’s death.
And he hated himself for the brief spurt of jealousy that flared at the thought. But before he’d even come to terms with it, his jealousy was overridden by a sense of loss so deep he almost doubled over in pain. Thinking of his twin, when he was about to bury another person he’d loved deeply was just too much. He closed his eyes, took a breath and tried to pushed Logan’s memory away. He couldn’t deal with both of them right now.
The funeral home had set up a tent and a single row of chairs before the prepared coffin suspended over the waiting hole in the ground. The tent kept the sun from beating down directly on their heads, but it did nothing about the suffocating humidity in the air. Before they’d even taken their seats, Luke could feel his white dress shirt sticking to his sweat-soaked back beneath his suit jacket.
At least Ainsley had decided to wear a basic black dress with filmy sleeves that barely covered the curve of her shoulder. He probably should have been paying attention to the preacher’s words. Instead, his eyes fell to her toes peeking out of strappy sandals. They were painted a suitably conservative shade of pale pink. For one unnerving moment he had the urge to reach down and run his lips across the row.
Completely inappropriate but much easier to deal with than the reality before him.
He’d never been good at goodbyes. It never got easier.
He and Pops might not have always seen eye-to-eye but he’d loved his grandfather. Until this moment he hadn’t realized just how much the loss would hurt.
Jerking his gaze back to the preacher, a nice Southern man with a sizable paunch and a face turned red and glistening from the heat. The man gestured for Gran to move forward, leading the line of people who would leave a single white rose on top of the coffin.
They filed out, the sun hitting Luke squarely in the face, leaving him blind and disoriented for several seconds. It was Ainsley’s soft murmur and the touch of her hand on his arm that called him back.
“Gran asked that we stay and see everyone gone. She needed to head into the house. Heat. Grief.”
Her eyes bright blue and moist with the tears she refused to shed, she looked up at him, waiting for his agreement.
At that moment, what he wanted most in the world was to crush her to his chest, hold her tight and let her ease the sharp ache that had settled in the center of his chest.
But he wouldn’t.
Instead, he nodded. She let go of his arm and stood beside him as the few neighbors and friends who had come drifted away to their waiting cars.
He heard the creak of the crank behind him as the staff from the funeral home lowered his grandfather’s coffin into the ground, and had to leave. He couldn’t watch.
He began walking, with no destination, just the single-minded thought of getting away.
Before he realized it, he was across the graveyard, in the section that held his parents’ and brother’s graves.
He paused first beside his mother’s headstone and then his father’s. After so many years, he could barely even remember what their voices had sounded like or the shape of their eyes or the feel of their hands running over his hair. They had been with him for such a short time, that their memory had begun to fade long ago. He mis
sed them, in an abstract sort of way. He missed what a mother and father would have given him—security, love, connection. But he’d received those things from other people in his life. He was certain their loss would have been harder if he’d been older when they’d died.
But Logan. Logan’s memory would always be sharp in his mind. Logan, the brother he’d shared everything with. Logan, the other half to his existence.
This time, instead of moonlight, bright sunlight shone down over the stone as he ran his hand across the curved edge of the white granite.
The sunlight glared off the surface. It should have been happy and playful—just as Logan had been—but it wasn’t.
“He missed you. Terribly.”
He hadn’t realized Ainsley had followed him, but he should have known she would. Even if this place held sad memories for her, she’d never leave him to deal with his alone…unless he asked her to.
He wouldn’t. Just knowing she was there somehow eased the burden of the day. More than it should. But he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. At least not right now.
Her hand joined his on the stone, not touching, just resting beside him, proof that if nothing else, they shared this.
“Every other word out of his mouth was Luke.” She laughed a low, strangled sound as if it hurt just to let it out. “He was so proud of you.”
For the second time that day, Luke found himself choking back emotion. He walked away from Logan’s grave, unable even to look at the cold stone, all that was left of his twin.
He didn’t make it far, only to the next grave over. He stared down, unseeing for several seconds, his eyes blurred with emotions he wouldn’t release.
Gradually, he got himself under control and became aware of exactly what he was looking at.
Ainsley had gone strangely still beside him, her hand half-outstretched as if to bring him back to her side. His eyes jumped to hers, to the stricken look that filled them, before slamming back to the marker in front of him.
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