What Might Have Been

by Kira Sinclair

  A whimper ground out of the back of her throat just as the world began to explode around her. Her body bucked violently against Luke as she reached the peak, and he wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her from falling off the desk.

  Her entire focus, her entire being, was centered where he touched her. Nothing else existed.

  But even as her body began to settle, her lungs deciding maybe they could work again after all, he pulled her to him. She glided bonelessly from the desk into his lap. Her legs slid perfectly between the wide oval of the arms so that she was straddling him.

  The heat of him was startling. His skin burned.

  She’d barely recovered from one unimaginable orgasm and suddenly she craved another. Grabbing handfuls of his hair, she dragged his mouth to hers tasting her own satisfaction on his tongue. She poured every ounce of desire into the kiss, arching her body, touching him, letting him know that she wanted more.

  She nipped at his neck, tasting salt and sun and Luke. She could hear the rustle of papers as he fumbled behind her and the loud tear as he opened the foil packet. She rolled her hips against him, caressing his erection and enjoying the way his eyes glazed and his hand dangled, condom forgotten for a moment.

  Reaching between them she brought her hand into the mix, grasping him in her tight fist. She wanted to feel the smoothness of the skin that covered his sex, to know the pulse of blood that ran beneath the surface. To touch the evidence of his desire for her without the shield of latex between them. Part of her wanted the feel of only him deep inside her even as she knew that, considering their history, that was probably the dumbest idea she’d ever had.

  Instead, she took the condom from his fingers. His eyes glittered and his breath panted in and out as he watched her roll it down his length.

  Fisting him again, she guided the head of his cock to the opening of her body. She could feel the slick moisture from her orgasm and the echoing pulse of it even as he pushed partway inside.

  Rearing back, she arched her hips and took all of him that she could take. Her body contracted around him, enjoying the weight deep inside. He was perfect, hot and heavy and she could feel him filling her up.

  His fingers dug into the curve of her hips, holding her still against the increasing need to drive them both on. The ache built again, sharp and surprising because she’d just come. This time there was more. She could feel the tingling energy left from her first orgasm as it shot through the walls of her sex. She spasmed around him, her body primed by the memory of what he’d already given her and the knowledge that she could have more.

  As if he’d been waiting for a sign, he began to move them both. His hips rocked hard against her as the cage of his hands lifted her and brought her back again. Her feet found purchase on the rolling undercarriage of the chair, giving her leverage. Her thighs flexed in time to his rhythm as tension built deep inside.

  The climb was steeper but the payoff greater as her body exploded for the second time. Tears slipped beneath her closed lashes. Her fingers curved into the arch of his shoulders, her nails digging into skin and grabbing hold of him as the only stable thing in her chaotic universe.

  He bucked beneath her, a cry of pleasure bursting from his lips as he pumped his own release into her. He held on to her, too, leaving bruises on her hips that she’d gladly wear tomorrow.

  She collapsed onto him, and they both let the chair take the deadweight of their temporarily useless bodies. His skin was warm and damp against her. She shouldn’t have liked that but she did.

  Her head settled into the crook of his neck and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of their shared pleasure as it settled around them. His arms came to rest around her hips, the only motion he could seem to manage was to tighten those muscles and pull her even closer against him.

  They stayed that way, for minutes, a half hour, she wasn’t certain. It didn’t matter. They were both content and sated and for the moment that was enough.

  Finally her muscles began to stiffen and protest their unusual position. Wiggling against him, she placed her palms to the desk behind them and pushed herself up out of their awkward hold.

  She sat on the edge of the desk again. This time as she looked down on him, rumpled and flushed with a pleasure that still coursed through her body, she didn’t care what came next.

  With a smile she said, “I could get used to this.”

  In the morning she’d probably regret the honesty of that statement, but for now, it was the truth and she’d kept enough secrets from him.

  13

  THEIR DAYS FELL INTO a pattern. Ainsley would wake before Luke, getting out of bed at the crack of dawn to attend to the business of harvesting peaches. He’d wake up…sometime. She was never sure when, but whenever she came back to the house for a quick lunch and a chance to cool off he was there. Waiting for her.

  Often they’d share the brief snatch of time with Gran. Sometimes they’d be alone. They never talked about anything important; this time was just to be and enjoy.

  She knew that he was having some trouble with a potential client he’d been working with before he arrived here. He never told her specifics but she knew the negotiations weren’t going well. At night she’d find him in the study, his hair almost standing on end as if he’d fought the urge to pull it out…just.

  She’d asked him about it once but he’d dismissed her offer of a sympathetic ear. She hadn’t offered again.

  Their nights were filled with passion, connection and, for her, blossoming hope. She knew she shouldn’t let it take hold, but she did. She couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop her heart from beating.

  There were other signs, signs against the idyllic fantasy she was building around the affair. Things were clearly proceeding on the sale of the orchard.

  In the end, Luke had received three competing offers from neighboring farmers who wanted to purchase the land. As far as she was aware, the Kincaids had made the winning bid. The details were complicated, turning over the property in the middle of a harvest with an active contract. They were just waiting for the client to sign papers agreeing to the change in ownership so that the sale could proceed before the contract was fulfilled. They didn’t anticipate any problems as Fred Kincaid had already agreed in writing to fulfill the obligation. It was a formality. One that was holding everything up.

  Ainsley didn’t mind. The longer it took, the more time she had with Luke.

  There had been a few glitches along the way, lost paperwork, unconnected phone calls. Luke’s missed appointment with the Kincaids.

  So far, it had been nothing major, just small things that niggled in the back of her mind. And Luke’s, too. On more than one occasion he’d blown his top over these minor setbacks.

  His frustration hurt. It was proof that he wanted to get out of here. Away from her. The problem was that she could never see that when they were together.

  When they were together she felt like the center of his world.

  She was getting tired of walking the tightrope, though. During the day she was bombarded with reasons and reminders to pull away. At night she was swept off her feet by his passion and her own desire, unable to heed the warnings she gave herself when the sun was out.

  Her own plans were proceeding, as well. Just this afternoon, she’d received an acceptance letter to Auburn’s agricultural program. She had several hours toward an accounting degree, which would only enhance her ability to succeed now that she’d found her true calling. She loved farm life and wanted to be able to use the skills that she’d learned here at Collier Orchards.

  So why was she suddenly uncertain about what she should really do?

  WHEN DINNER WAS OVER, the kitchen cleaned and Gran ensconced firmly in her own room, they began their nightly routine. Ainsley and Luke would take different sides of the house, make sure everything was secure, meet at the bottom of the stairs and kiss their way to the top.

  Tonight, things would be different. Tonight, he had a surprise.<
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  Grasping her hand, instead of bringing her closer he tugged her sideways toward the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have something I want to show you. A surprise.”

  He watched with fascination as she raised her eyebrows, her widened eyes full of wary reluctance.

  She didn’t like surprises, something he’d never known about her. He wondered if this was new or if she’d always been that way. He thought back over their relationship and couldn’t think of a single time where he’d thought to surprise her.

  He really had been a prick, hadn’t he?

  Her reluctant feet trudged down the hallway behind him. The weight of her body pulled against his hand and tried to slow his progress. Turning around, he let her collide with him, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her to his chest.

  Reaching down with his lips, he coaxed her into a state of melted awareness with nothing more than his mouth and tongue. But he refused to get sidetracked. Not tonight. It was too important.

  Pulling back, he whispered, “Trust me,” before heading for the door. This time her steps weren’t so much reluctant as unaware.

  Until they rounded the first bend in the path outside, where one of the four-wheelers waited. Her demeanor quickly changed. She let go of his hand and shot forward, anger replacing the wary reluctance she’d been harboring before.

  “What is this doing here? Everyone knows not to leave them out at night.”

  “I told them to.”

  She turned puzzled eyes back to him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because we need it.” Throwing a leg over, he turned the machine on, reveling in the loud hum and vibrating power beneath him. The energy seemed to course directly from the machine to his body, increasing his already-purring anticipation for what was to come. “Get on.”

  She sat behind him, grasping his hips in a loose hold that wouldn’t do at all. Reaching behind him, he took both of her arms, wrapped them tightly around his waist and enjoyed the way her body had to drape across his. He could feel the thrust of her breasts against his back and his mouth began to water for the taste of them on his tongue.

  But he could wait. He’d have to.

  If he tortured himself by taking the curves a little faster and a little sharper just to feel her rubbing against him…well, he was only human.

  From the tiny gasps he felt brushing against his neck, he wasn’t the only one affected by the friction.

  When they pulled up to his destination, she slid from behind him.

  “The pond? You want to take a late-night swim?”

  “Eventually. I thought the water might come in handy.”

  She looked up at him, completely bewildered. “For what?”

  Once again taking her hand, he led her into the first line of trees to a blanket he’d set up there just before it got dark. There was a gleaming silver ice bucket, empty. Next to it sat a small cooler, not exactly romantic in appearance but definitely practical. Inside he knew she’d find a chilled bottle of wine, some cheese, crackers and a tray of fruit with several of their own peaches, fresh from the tree as its centerpiece. He’d asked Mitch for a few of the best that had been picked today.

  At strategic intervals around the blanket sat several small votive candles just waiting to be lit.

  She turned to him, her eyes wide. They glittered with happiness, desire and something that made the center of his chest ache. Disbelief that he’d gone to so much trouble for her.

  “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t light those ahead of time,” she said playfully as she took in the scene one more time.

  “I might be oblivious sometimes, but I’m not that stupid.”

  “Thank heaven for small favors.” While she was clearly teasing him, the bursting smile on her lips said everything he needed to hear.

  This surprise, at least, had been good. He helped her settle down on the blanket before fiddling with the spread.

  Placing the tray between them, he handed her a glass of the sweet white wine and told her, “Stretch out and relax.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “No, no it really isn’t.”

  Their drive was something they had in common. They seemed to share this need to keep their hands and minds busy. However, he had learned over the past several years that taking time out was necessary every now and then. And taking time out with Ainsley was a luxury he’d never pass up.

  Doing as he asked, she stretched her legs before her, propped her head on one hand and raised an eyebrow as if to ask what next?

  He picked up a slice of cheese and held it to her lips, waiting for them to part. When she leaned forward to take the bite he offered, the edge of her tongue licked across his skin. Her teeth bit down, nearly nipping the tip of his finger before he quickly pulled it away. The seductive smile on her lips told him that had been no accident.

  She reached for a piece herself, but before she could touch it he stopped her hand, shaking his head. “This is for you.”

  Although, that was a lie. Watching bliss cross her face was a treat he’d never thought to have again.

  Grabbing a strawberry, he rubbed it across her lips staining them a deep, dark pink with the juices before pushing the berry inside her waiting mouth. He watched the column of her throat as she tipped back her head to swallow a mouthful of wine. Her skin was soft and dusky. Inviting. The urge to reach in and take a bite of her was overwhelming, but he wasn’t finished with this seduction yet.

  Instead, he contented himself with reaching forward to lick the line of her still-parted lips. He took the juice he’d left behind but no more.

  Smacking his own lips he said, “Sweet.”

  He pulled away and she followed, reaching out to force him back. Grasping her hands in a fist, again he shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  Her eyes flashed, combat, desire, a promise of retaliation. He knew he’d enjoy that just as much as he was enjoying this.

  This time he selected a slice of peach from the tray. The flesh was cool to the touch and a beautiful pale orange color. The juices rolled over his fingers just from picking it up. They really did grow the best peaches in all of Georgia.

  This time he held the fruit to her mouth, waiting for her to take a bite of what he offered. She gobbled up half of the slice in the first bite. A single drop of nectar glistened at the corner of her lips. Leaning forward, he licked it away before offering her the last morsel.

  Just as she moved closer to accept, he dropped it…directly into the open V of her shirt. A hiss pushed through her teeth but she didn’t move. He’d half expected a squeal, but not from his Ainsley. She knew exactly what he was doing and wanted him to do it.

  “Oops.” He smiled at her with an impish grin, confirming it had been no accident.

  Leaning forward, he pulled the edges of her shirt back, letting his warm breath brush across her skin. “I suppose you shouldn’t be the only one enjoying the fruit. It does look really good.”

  Dipping his mouth to the rounded flesh of her breast, he licked the trail of sticky moisture the peach had left there before finding and eating the small piece.

  “I think I’ve ruined your shirt. Better take it off.”

  He waited as she watched him, deciding whether to comply or balk. When she reached for the hem, crossing her arms and lifting it off of her body in one smooth motion, he smiled. She was naked beneath, her breasts swaying free before him.

  “You.” She gestured with a finger, making sure he knew exactly what she meant. With a shrug, he pulled his own shirt over his head. It was no more than he wanted anyway. To be naked with her beneath the trees and the stars.

  He reached for another piece of fruit, this time a section of orange, offering her the first bite before taking the rest himself. He swore he could taste her there on his tongue, her sweetness mingling with the burst of juices.

  This time the juice dribbled slowly down his chin, impeded by his stubble. Ainsley scooted closer,
imprisoning her own hands beneath her legs and leaning forward to lick. She grazed the side of his face, to the crease of his lips, the sharp little tip of her tongue spearing inside to swipe at his own.

  Before she could take more, he reached for a strawberry and trailed it down the side of her neck, over her shoulder, swirling it across the tip of her breast. It left a shiny pink trail over her skin, a clear path for him to follow in case he got lost in the wonders of her body.

  He enjoyed the sharp intake of her breath at the touch of the chilled fruit to her heated skin. Popping it into his mouth, he touched his lips to the trail and followed it, not with his tongue but with little love bites. At perfect intervals the pale pink turned to a sharp red where he nipped and sucked at her skin. She leaned toward him, urging him on.

  When he finally sucked the tight point of her nipple into the heat of his mouth she let out a low-throated moan and threw her head back with an abandon that floored him. One simple touch, a few precious minutes and she was surrendering herself to him body and soul.

  The trust she held in him was awe-inspiring and down right scary. He’d never, in his entire life, trusted another person so completely, the way that she trusted him.

  And it wasn’t just this moment. It was everything she did, the way she approached life. If anyone in the world had a reason to doubt others it was Ainsley. She’d grown up with the person who should have protected her hurting her most. Anyone else would have locked herself away, would have kept others at a distance, to avoid ever having to experience that pain again.

  Not Ainsley. She offered her whole self to everything and everyone around her. She was open and giving and always had been. Luke wondered how he could have missed that before.

  She loved him. She had to. She wouldn’t give herself in this way if she didn’t. He recognized that much about the woman that she was. The woman she’d always been.