by Vicki Tharp
“You’re kidding, right?” She waved her hand in his general direction. “You’re all beat up because of…” Her chin quivered, and her eyes rimmed with red. “Because of me.”
He reached over and scooted her chair closer until her knees slid between his. He shucked his shirt, and her eyes rounded when they landed on the damage to his chest.
“Oh, Quinn…”
“No,” Quinn said, placing her hand lightly on his chest. “This is not because of you. This is on those bastards.”
She nodded, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. With a finger under her chin, he made her look at him. “It’s not your fault.”
Her eyes flooded with tears, and he pulled her onto his lap.
“Hey, hey, hey.” His chest got tighter, tighter, tighter, until he had to force the words up from deep down. No one cried over Quinn Powell. No one cared enough. “What’s all this about?”
He scooted his chair back from the table to give them room and wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her head in the hollow of his neck and shook. There was no sound. She could have been laughing, but there was a wetness on his chest, and he knew she was sobbing.
He kissed her on the top of her head. The sweet scent of straw was in her hair, as if she’d spent the day rolling in hay when he knew damn well she hadn’t. He tried soothing her with his words.
Meaningless, meaningful, all at the same time.
Yes, it was going to be okay. Yes, it was all right. Yes, he was sorry she’d been caught up in the drama. Every word was the truth, yet none of the words changed anything for the better, made anything safer.
Minutes passed until her body settled and her breathing evened out. She tried to wipe the moisture from his chest but only managed to smear it around. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
He pressed his lips to her temple. “’S okay, babe.” The endearment rolled off his tongue, feeling as natural as taking in his next breath.
Don’t get used to it. And don’t let her get used to it. Just because you missed her, just because you’re still attracted, doesn’t mean you can have a life together.
She dried her hand on her jeans and settled back into him, an index finger ghosting across his chest, across his abdomen, skirting the bruising that had shifted from blue to blue-black in spots. “They could have killed you.” If she hadn’t been sitting in his lap, he wouldn’t have heard her.
“Bigger, meaner men have tried.”
She continued tracing. It tickled. It hurt. It aroused. He shifted her on his lap, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“You like that?”
Understatement. He glanced at the nonexistent watch on his right wrist. “Getting late, don’t you think?”
Raising her head, she cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to the outer edge of his bruised jaw and worked her way down and across, turning his head as she went. She nibbled his bottom lip, and he sucked in a breath. “Jenn…”
He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say, so he didn’t say anything. She shifted in his lap and straddled him in the chair.
Jesus. “Ah…” The sound came out strangled, and Jenna chuckled, a little too pleased. He placed his hands on her hips, and she scooched up against him. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
She nipped and nibbled and tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth. Removing the sting with a soft swipe of her tongue. “It’s a fine idea. Especially after all that trouble I went to in high school convincing Mac to go with me to pick up birth control.”
“The frustration when your dad found them,” he growled, but his hands, which had been holding her off, relaxed, and Jenna didn’t waste a second taking advantage, snuggling right up against him. His blood pressure spiked, and again the echo beat, in his chest, over his chest.
His crotch.
“Then you left to join the Marines and we never…”
Made love. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. They both knew damn well what they’d missed. “Your father would have killed me. And if for some reason he hadn’t, Mac or Boomer would have been happy to do it for him.”
“I didn’t care what my dad thought of you then. I care even less now.”
“Us being adults doesn’t make me bulletproof. Your dad’s a good shot with a rifle, and Mac and Boomer”—Quinn shook his head—“not many are better than those two.”
She worked her way down his neck, and his pulse kicked against her lips. She bit the flesh at the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
“I always knew you’d be my first.”
First? He put his hands on her hips and gave her a slight shake. “What are you talking about?”
Her face went seven shades of crimson, and she shifted as if she was going to bolt. He held tight. “Look at me, Jenn.”
She covered her face with her hands and peeked through her fingers. “I…um…never”—she shrugged, and dropped her hands—“you know.”
“You’re—”
She nodded, not letting him finish.
“But you’ve had boyfriends.”
“I wasn’t in a nunnery.”
“So, why—”
Dropping her gaze, she said, “I was waiting for that special someone to come along.”
Her shoulders curled in, and she fidgeted with the championship buckle on her belt. With his thumbs, he drew circles on her hip bone. Clearly, there was more she wanted to say, so he waited her out. She met his eyes. “Then one day I realized he’d already come and gone.”
* * * *
For Jenna, admitting she was a virgin to her ex-almost-fiancé stripped her—leaving her emotions naked and her ego exposed. She wanted to drop her gaze, climb off his lap, run back to her house. But she kept her eyes on his.
They’d vowed to be straight with each other. To not hold back.
It wasn’t like she had anything to lose.
He wasn’t hers anymore.
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. His eyes searched her face, for what, she didn’t know. She bumped her thumbnail along the carved-rope edge of her belt buckle, the silence tight, suffocating. She drew a breath, but it was like sucking air out of a vacuum. “Say something.”
“What do you want me to say?”
She laughed, though there was nothing about shining a spotlight on her vulnerabilities that was remotely humorous. “You know what?” She pulled free and stood. “You’re right. It’s getting late.”
She palmed the tub of the poultice and plopped it into his hands. “Three times a day, if you can manage.”
She had the door partway open before Quinn caught up with her. He peeled her fingers off the knob and eased the door closed, the click of the latch sounding so final.
“Stay,” he said.
“You’re not in any condition to…you know.”
He smiled a double-dimple smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“You,” he said. “I want to hear you say it.”
A flush ran up her face—Usain Bolt only wished he was that fast. “Say what?” But she knew. And she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it from her mouth.
“I’m not in any condition to…what?” He leaned in, pressed up against her, the door at her back. He caught both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.
Pressing a kiss beneath the line of her jaw, he trailed a finger down her neck to the hollow at her collarbone, down her chest, hooking his finger into the V-neck of her shirt. “I’m not in any condition to…have manic monkey sex?”
He was toying with her, baiting her. She fought the smile at the same time the tip of his finger brushed the top of her breast. He knew damn good and well that if they slept together it would be more than sex. She figured that’s why he’d wanted her to say it. “Make love,” she blurted.
<
br /> She felt his smile in the crook of her neck, the press of his cock against her navel. She groaned.
“That wasn’t a happy sound,” Quinn said, pulling away to see her face. “Wasn’t a fuck-me-silly sound.”
“I’m not on the pill anymore. There wasn’t much point. I don’t suppose…”
He shook his head. “I got nothing. I can check the bathroom. Maybe Kurt stocked up on condoms.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “This is like before. It’s not meant to be.”
“Just because it didn’t happen, doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be, Jenn. Will you stay? Tonight. With me?”
Her head nodded even before her mind made the decision for her. He took her by the hand and drew her back, back, back to the bed, toeing out of his boots and shucking his jeans but leaving on his boxer briefs. She did the same, stripping down to her underwear, but stopping there.
“Turn around,” he said.
“We should put that poultice on.”
“Later,” he said. “Turn around.”
She did, without asking why. With deft hands, he unsnapped her bra, and she covered her chest with her arms. “Quinn…”
“Shhh.” He kissed the back of her neck, looped his fingers through her bra straps, and slipped them off her shoulders.
She clasped the thin material to her chest, though with her back turned he couldn’t see anything. His fingers brushed along her spine, across her shoulders, and down her arms, but he stopped at her elbows.
Goose bumps raced, nerves pinged. His hands shook and his lungs labored. “Drop your hands, Jenn.”
Her hands fell away and her bra with them. He closed the thin gap between them, his erection wedged in the cleft at the top of her ass, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Shivers ran down her belly, through her abdomen, her pelvis, settling into a deep ache. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his breath hot against her bare flesh. “Don’t move,” he said.
Behind her, he rifled through his duffel bag, then he was back. “Raise your arms.”
She did, and he slid a T-shirt over her arms and head and settled it down her torso. The material skimmed her mid-thigh, the wash-worn shirt soft and decadent against her skin, with USMC emblazoned across her chest in cracked and faded print.
“Come here.” He slid into the bed and eased her in next to him, spooning her from behind, his arm draped across her side, a gentle hand cupping her breast. “You good?”
There were other words for what she was. Horny, frustrated, excited, horny, appreciative, overwhelmed, horny.
But nothing as tame as good.
CHAPTER NINE
Quinn had crawled over Jenna and climbed out of bed before he thought of all the reasons why he didn’t care that she wasn’t on birth control, or that they didn’t have any condoms, or that she was a virgin, and rolled her over and made love to her the way he wanted to.
Slow and methodical, until they were both sweaty and sated.
Or up against the wall, her taut thighs wrapped around his hips, her riding him as he drove up inside her.
He pulled the covers up to her chin, and remembered the weight of her breast in his hand, the perfect way it fit. He brushed a kiss across her forehead and turned away.
Just because he wasn’t on base, didn’t mean he was on vacation. Finding out what happened to Kurt was important, and Jenna was a nice, unexpected distraction, but his number-one priority was passing his annual and meeting the flight surgeon’s requirements so he could get back in the air, where he belonged.
That meant that, despite only a few hours of sleep, the overall ache in his body and the bruising across his chest, he had a workout to complete. As much as he needed a cold shower, he didn’t have time for one. He adjusted himself in his briefs and tugged on a pair of running shorts.
A few minutes later, his feet pounded up the long drive to the main gate, the air thin, and a constant twinging in his left knee where he’d been kicked keeping him from pushing himself as hard as he wanted, but he didn’t want to risk an injury that would keep him from his goals.
The sunrise was beautiful, the run brutal.
On the way back, he stopped by the woodpile and picked up the ax, the dry breeze wicking the sweat from his body as fast as he produced it. He worked his fingers into a pair of calfskin work gloves, sweat-dried into a wrinkled fist.
The first few logs, he started slow, gauging his strength. Not easy, but doable. And despite the fight, the grip in his injured hand had improved a fraction. The simple ax had done more in a few days than thousands of dollars in modern physical therapy machines and techniques had been unable to do at all.
Combine that with fresh air, a mountain view, and the sun beating down on him, and Quinn’s rhythm increased. Blood flowed, muscles burned, and endorphins zinged his nerve endings.
When the chopped pile grew unruly, Quinn tossed the split wood onto the trailer. From behind the barn came the low-throated growl of a tractor. Quinn looked up as Hank came around the corner with the front-end loader, the bucket full of cut logs ready to be split. Hank brought them over and tipped the bucket. The logs tumbled out, the ground shaking beneath Quinn’s feet.
Hank cut the engine and jumped down, a slight hitch in his step where a bull had gored him years before, ending his bull-riding career. “You seen Jenna?”
The question didn’t come out like a man who had no idea where his daughter was. It came out like a protective father who knew exactly where his darling little girl had spent the night and was waiting for Quinn to lie to his face about it.
“I have.” Quinn placed a log on the stump. He shouldered the ax and brought it down hard. The two pieces jumped apart, and he wrestled the blade from the stump.
Hank stood there, hands on his hips, scrutinizing him, the brim of his Stetson shading his eyes, making his stern expression impossible to read. Hank was either going to beat the hell out of him or not. Impossible to say which.
Quinn balanced one of the split halves on the stump and split it again. Hank’s watchful eye made his skin itch like a cheap wool sweater. “Nothing happened.” You’re a stupid bastard, Powell. You don’t have to answer to him. “But either way, Jenna’s a grown woman. Capable of making her own decisions.”
“It’s the mistakes I’m concerned about.”
“What business is it of yours, who she sleeps—”
Hank held up a hand, a grimace on his face as if he’d downed a mouthful of manure.
Quinn settled another log into place, raised the ax, then let the handle slip through his fingers, the broad metal head bumping against his hand. “What do you have against me?”
“You’re cocky. Brash. Impulsive. You put yourself first and damn the consequences. Might make you a good pilot, but crap for a husband.”
Quinn flashed a tight smile. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me how you really feel.”
“You broke her heart, son. That’s awful hard for a father to forgive.”
“I broke her heart?” Quinn huffed out an incredulous laugh. “You getting senile, old man? She was the one who turned down my proposal. Handed me my ring back.”
“You put her in an impossible position. Leave the ranch, her family, her passion, her dream of the therapy program.”
“Apparently not that impossible. Not like she agonized for weeks over the decision.”
“She wasn’t right for months after. But you wouldn’t know that, because you vanished off the face of the earth.”
“I didn’t vanish. I changed duty stations.”
“There’s e-mail, Skype, or you could have manned the fuck up and called her.”
“Dad.” Jenna stepped around the back side of the tractor. Quinn hadn’t seen her come out.
Hank took a step back, and Jenna slid beneath his raised arm. He kissed her on the temple. “Your old man means
well.”
“I appreciate that.” She patted him on the chest. “Now, butt out.”
He raised his hands and backed toward the tractor. When the roar of the engine receded, Jenna raised up onto her tiptoes and gave Quinn a peck on the lips. “Morning.”
There was a sly, self-satisfied smile on her lips.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I like that I can walk up and do that is all.”
Quinn got a weird feeling twisting in his belly. He should have been happy, a beautiful woman kissing him early in the morning. But Hank’s words echoed in his head. Selfish. Impulsive.
No denying the truth in Hank’s words, because all Quinn wanted to do was haul her into his arms, take her to his bed, and not think about what would happen to her, to them, when it was time for him to go back to California.
He’d be a fool to start something he had no way of finishing, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “I like that, too,” and meaning it.
“A bunch of us are riding out to push the cattle into the summer pasture. Mac isn’t feeling well, so we could use another warm body if you’re up for it.”
“What’s up with Mac? She looked like she was trying not to toss her cookies the other day.”
Jenna shrugged. “Stomach bug, she says. So, you game? We ride hard back, and we’ll be at the ranch before Kurt’s mom arrives.”
“Saddle me a horse. I’ll catch a shower and meet you at the barn.”
Her smile was a little too broad and a little too giddy. He should have turned her down, but damn, he liked it when she smiled at him like that.
Only a stupid man would deny her.
* * * *
Five hours in the saddle and the fatigue hit Jenna. The rifle rubbed the underside of her leg through the scabbard. The dusty air at the back of the herd made her lungs itch and her eyes water. Driving cattle was hard enough work. Driving cattle on little sleep, with a hard ride home ahead of you…it wasn’t for sissies.
Only Pepita, Mac, and Lottie had stayed behind. Pepita had school. Mac wasn’t feeling well, and Lottie was preparing for Kurt’s mother’s arrival later that night.