by Heidi Betts
It was part warning, part threat, part reminder, and it sent a skittering of warmth blossoming low in her belly. Her throat was too tight, too dry to form words, so she merely nodded.
That was all it took for Gage’s eyes to go from glittering with mild interest to blazing with sharp arousal. Both expressions were potent and intelligent, but only one was hot and smoldering with danger.
Luckily, she liked danger. She liked living on the edge.
But only with one person.
Only with him.
She returned her mouth to his jaw, letting her lips skate along the rough surface.
“You can be in charge this time,” she whispered. “Whatever you want. However you want it. If you want to tie me to the bed instead, I’m game.”
His fingers flexed in the flesh of her upper arms, and before she knew what was happening, she was flat on her back on the mattress with Gage hovering above her.
“I don’t need toys and secondary fantasies,” he told her in a voice rough with meaning. “When I’m with you, I only want you, just as you are.”
His declaration brought a lump to her throat so that all she could do was swallow and blink back the sting of tears.
Gage wasn’t the romantic sort. He’d never been one to bring her flowers or candy or plan something special for Valentine’s Day. But once in a while he would utter something so beautiful, so heartfelt, he could have won a Mr. Romance competition against Prince Charming himself.
“It’s a shame we couldn’t work out our differences,” she told him when she could finally manage non-wavering speech, “because we really are perfect for each other.”
A flash of something dark and almost primitive passed over his face, but he didn’t respond. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, with a growl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, then ground his entire body against hers from chest to ankle while he took her mouth in a toe-curling, breath-stealing, bone-crushing kiss.
Gage couldn’t decide what he wanted more-to wrap Jenna in about a thousand layers of cotton batting and cuddle her like a small child… or pin her to the bed and use his body to punish her for putting him through the wringer.
No one had ever been able to reach inside him and pull out his guts the way she could, and over the past couple days, she’d not only ripped them out, but tap-danced them straight into the ground.
He’d always thought guys who got mixed up in sex with the ex were… well, okay, yeah, lucky bastards as far as getting laid went, but also major morons. Once the marriage was over and the papers were signed, that needed to be the end, with both parties going their separate ways. Going back, even just for the occasional quick roll in the sack, was a bad idea. Bad with a capital B.
Lying in the cradle of Jenna’s thighs hadn’t altered his opinion, either. It was still a bad, bad idea.
But slap his ass and crown him the King of All Morons… damned if he was going to take the high road and walk away. He wasn’t sure he’d have been physically able, even if he’d wanted to-which he sure as hell didn’t.
So he’d take himself out back of the woodshed later. Probably whack his head against the wall a few hundred times and call himself every kind of name in the book, too.
Small price to pay, he rationalized, for another night spent with Jenna. Not tied to the bed at her mercy. Not being used in her misguided attempts to start a family. But making love with her the way they used to, the way he fantasized about while he was stuck on stakeouts or trapped undercover for weeks at a time.
His heart slowed its beat and his blood thickened, pumping like crude oil through his veins. Without warning, he pushed himself up and off the bed. Jenna made a startled, disappointed sound, which he ignored as he strode to his duffel where it rested on the floor in the corner and crouched to unzip the bag.
He found what he was looking for, then straightened and turned to toss the box on the bed. It landed next to Jenna’s hip. Her eyes went to the label for a split second before she lifted her gaze to his.
“You know how I feel about this, and I’m not taking any more chances,” he told her. Legs spread slightly apart and hands on his hips, his tone left no room for arguments. “We use them, or I go back downstairs and spend the rest of the night on the sofa.”
In response, she sat up cross-legged in the middle of the bed, grabbed the box, and opened it at one end. Spilling the contents onto the mattress, she lifted a single small foil packet between two fingers and waved it in front of him.
“As long as you let me put the first one on.”
Gage hadn’t realized until that moment how still he’d been holding himself, how rigid every muscle and tendon was-including his lungs, which suddenly sucked in a much-needed breath of air.
He didn’t know what he’d have done if she’d refused. Burst into flames or crumbled into a pile of bones and ash, most likely.
But she hadn’t refused, and he wasn’t going to waste another second worrying about it. He’d rather just be grateful… and get down to business before she changed her mind.
He reached the bed in a single wide step, tangling his fingers in the hem of her pajama tank and yanking it up and off. She raised her arms to make the job easier and even tipped back on the mattress to let him strip her of her shorts.
He didn’t take his eyes off of her as he quickly shucked his own boxer briefs and joined her on the bed. His big body covered hers, nearly swallowing her whole, and he held himself up on his arms to keep from crushing her.
The feel of her smooth skin rubbing against his own was like heaven, and something he hadn’t known he’d missed quite so much until that very moment. He let the sensation sink in, etch itself into his memory, and warm him both outside and in.
It didn’t take long, though, for more pressing desires to make themselves known. Between them, his penis pulsed and nudged forward insistently, as though it knew relief was only centimeters away.
“If you want the honors,” he told her roughly, “you’d better hurry. I’m not promising to last much longer.”
Jenna’s lips pulled into a small moue. “Aw, poor baby. I thought big, strong men like you were supposed to have more staying power than that.”
“Not where you’re concerned,” he bit out. Then he grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the condom packet and tugged it down toward her waist, closer to where she needed to put it to good use, rolling slightly to the side to give her room to work.
She chuckled, but didn’t hold him in suspense. Tearing open the foil square, she removed the latex shield, placed it carefully over the tip of his throbbing dick, and rolled it into place.
Gage gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he fought to hold perfectly still, to not rush her or groan with delicious misery and risk slowing her down even more. Finally she finished, and he released a harsh breath.
Her hands moved to his shoulders while she laid there, staring up at him. Naked and welcoming and more beautiful than any woman had a right to be.
But he didn’t want to get emotional about this. Didn’t want to leave the door open to falling for her again, getting attached when there was no chance for reconciliation. He already had enough unfinished business to deal with where Jenna was concerned; he sure as shit didn’t need more.
So rather than think, rather than take the time to enjoy the sight of Jenna sprawled beneath him, open and ready, he lifted her leg to hook around his hip and drove home in one long, forceful stroke.
As foreplay went, it wasn’t exactly subtle or sophisticated. It didn’t need to be. The second he pushed inside her, he knew she was fully aroused and more than ready to accept him. And if he were any more primed, he’d go off like a geyser.
Her other leg came up to hug his waist, linking at the ankles and jerking him that much closer, that much deeper. At the same time, her arms looped around his neck, tugging him down until their chests touched and her breasts were trapped between them.
He could feel the sharp bite of her nipples, the
warm dusting of her breath on his face, her heart beating in tandem with his own. His fingers flexed in the flesh of her upper thigh and he leaned in to take her mouth in a hot, mindless kiss.
She kissed him back, her tongue warring with his while the rest of her body arched and writhed. Her movements enflamed him further, dragging a raw moan up from his diaphragm.
Sliding his hand around to cup her left buttock, he anchored her in place as he began to thrust. Slowly at first, savoring the in and out motion, the exquisite friction of hard against soft. Wet heat surrounded him, clutched at him, made him want to beg for mercy.
Rational speech was a little out of his reach, though, so he settled instead for deepening the kiss and deepening his strokes. Tiny mewling sounds emanated from Jenna’s throat and her nails dug into his shoulders, letting him know she was right there with him. That the sensations building in his gut were also building in hers. That the flames licking their way up and down his spine were licking away at hers, as well. And whatever the female equivalent was of having his balls draw up in preparation for an orgasm to end all orgasms… well, that was there, too.
Her chest was heaving as she struggled to breathe, and finally she tore her mouth from his, sucking in gulps of much-needed oxygen. He followed her lead, then returned his lips to hers, kissing lightly before trailing his mouth along her cheek, up to her ear, down the taut column of her throat.
“Gage,” she moaned when she could once again form coherent words. “Gage. Gage. Gage.”
Hearing his name in that whispery, needy tone, from the lips of the woman he never thought he’d be with again, was like throwing gasoline on a brush fire. His temperature spiked, causing beads of sweat to break out all along his body, joining the fine layer of perspiration already there.
Her legs tightened around his waist, her arms around his neck as she rocked against him. Back and forth, harder and harder, grinding into his every thrust until they were both mindless and crying out for completion.
She came first, gasping, arching, gripping him like a vise. And since he’d only been hanging on, waiting for her to climax first, he let himself go.
His teeth clamped down on the muscle running between her neck and shoulder while his body convulsed with pleasure. He drove into her once, twice more, and then collapsed, feeling as drained and wrung out as an old dishrag.
He knew he was probably crushing her with his weight, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength to move his pinky finger, let alone the rest of his two-hundred-plus-pound bulk.
She didn’t seem to mind, though. Her arms and legs were still curled around him, and her fingers tickled through the short hair at the back of his head.
“Gage?” she asked after a couple minutes of near-silence, the only sound in the room that of their mingled breaths slowly returning to normal.
“Hmm?” He still hadn’t lifted his head, still didn’t have the energy.
“How many condoms were in that box?”
His brow arched and he summoned just enough control to lift his head a few inches to meet her mossy-green gaze. “I don’t know. Ten, twelve, twenty-four. Why?”
“I’m just trying to plan the rest of my evening. And figure out how soon we might have to make a trip to town to replenish our supply.”
It took a second for his sluggish brain to grasp her words, but when the meaning sank in, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin.
“I think we’ll be okay for tonight.” And if they ran out-tonight, tomorrow, the next day, any time, any hour-he’d simply hop on his Harley and cruise down to the nearest all-night convenience store.
He considered himself lucky that she’d been amenable to sleeping with him once-not counting last night’s tie-me-up, tie-me-down, use-me-for-your-own-selfish-wishes scenario. The fact that she was open to going another round-maybe several more rounds while he was sticking to her like glue, anyway-made him want to get down on his knees and thank every god of every religion on the planet… and then some.
It probably wasn’t smart. Probably wasn’t the best way to maintain distance, keep that invisible wall of divorce and opposing views between them, but at the moment he didn’t give a rat’s hairy ass. That might have been the Little General exerting his will over any protests his frontal lobe might have been making…
But that was all right with him, too. Once in a while, it seemed, his dick had some damn good ideas.
* * *
Jenna stood at the kitchen table, watching Gage stroll toward the barn.
Letting him stay at Aunt Charlotte’s with her-or at least stay without arguing, yelling, or giving him the silent treatment-probably wasn’t the wisest move ever. Letting him make love to her night and day and noon and midmorning was more along the lines of something that qualified her for shock therapy treatments. At the very least, she thought she should have her head examined.
Then again, the thing that had set all of this in motion to begin with-that ever-so-bright idea of drugging him, tying him to the bed, and using him to get pregnant-should probably have been run past a psychological professional beforehand, too.
So, in essence, this was all Grace and Ronnie’s fault. It had been their idea to start with, they’d badgered and cajoled her to go through with it, and if they hadn’t, she wouldn’t currently be in this mess.
Of course, “this mess” had her insides tingling like an electrified fence ’round the clock and had given her more bone-rattling, sense-zapping orgasms than she could count.
Literally. She’d lost track sometime after sixteen.
But she’d decided-admittedly, not necessarily with all of her brain cells functioning at top form-that a week of unfettered, uncommitted sex with her ex-husband wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
For one, it was incredible. Not just good, not just enjoyable, but blow-the-top-off-her-head, leave-her-gasping-like-a-fish-out-of-water amazing. There had been times over the past few days when she could have sworn she’d lost feeling in her extremities.
Yes, they’d always had chemistry, and sex had definitely been one of the highlights of their married days, but she didn’t remember it being this spectacular.
Maybe it was the illicitness of it all causing the extra sparks. The knowledge that they weren’t married anymore, and therefore what they were doing was naughty, forbidden, taboo. And leading nowhere. It was hot, sweaty jungle sex just for the sake of hot, sweaty jungle sex.
For another, she was enjoying herself. She didn’t mind staying at her aunt’s farm while Charlotte was on the road traveling from craft show to craft show, and had been happy to agree when Charlotte had asked.
Sadly, she was used to being alone, and had long ago learned how to fill her time without feeling lonely. There was plenty of work to do just taking care of the alpacas, of course, but she’d also brought along a stack of paperback novels, a sack of yarn and needles, and notes in case she got around to starting on her lesson plans for the coming school year.
But having Gage around had turned out to be… kind of fun. She wouldn’t have expected it, especially after the way they’d parted Saturday morning when he’d been so furious about being a pawn in her pregnancy plan. His sudden return and proclamation that he planned to shadow her every step until he knew whether or not they’d made a baby had immediately set her on edge.
She’d expected every second in his company to be excruciating. Instead, he’d not only seduced her and kept her in a very pleasant sexual haze, but he’d turned out to be quite helpful when it came to chores.
At first, he’d merely accompanied her to the barn and hung around watching while she cleaned stalls and put out fresh food, water, and hay. She hadn’t minded, either. Her gym membership card had gotten a bit dusty lately, and she figured some nice, sweaty manual labor would be good for her heart and her waistline… and thighs and rear.
Plus, if her slightly pudgy, slightly creaky, slightly old aunt could run the place single-handedly, then surely she could do the same. And if she coul
dn’t… well, if she couldn’t, it was solid proof that she was a complete waste of human flesh and needed to hop on board the first UFO that tried to beam her up as a volunteer for their alien experimentation.
After a while, though, Gage had begun to pitch in. Bringing her a bale of hay here, helping to fill feed troughs there. Until eventually it seemed that Gage was doing most of the work and she was sitting back playing with the barn cats or petting one of Aunt Charlotte’s beloved alpacas.
And through it all, she’d discovered something rather interesting about herself.
She’d discovered that she liked to watch.
It was no secret that her ex-husband was built like a god. A tall, muscular god, with wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and arms and legs the size of small redwood trees. He was like a sexy Paul Bunyan, and she had no doubt that he could palm any one of the alpacas milling around the pasture and spin it on the tip of his index finger, if he wanted.
He also had a firm, perfectly rounded ass that just wouldn’t quit. Dressed most days in comfortably worn, nicely fitted jeans and black, white, or gray T-shirts that clung to his chest like a second skin, his muscles rippled with every move he made.
Bending over to scoop feed from the bin, his lats stretched, the jeans tightened across his butt… and her mouth watered.
Hoisting a hundred-pound bale of hay, his biceps bulged, his thighs bunched… and her lungs refused to draw oxygen.
Stalking across the barn floor, the line of his shoulders and spine ran straight as a board and his hips swayed in that slow, lanky stride of his… and everything inside her turned soft and molten.
Whatever he was doing, she just stood back and admired the view. He was her own personal piece of eye candy, if only for the time it took for Aunt Charlotte to return and her to get her period. Which, surprisingly, suited her just fine.
Grace and Ronnie would be so proud. She’d always been the quiet one, the predictable one, the Good Girl of their trio. But shacking up with her ex-husband was none of those things. It was stupid and wrong and wicked, and possibly made her the official Bad Girl of the group.