Riding High

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Or I could ask the fence company to replace it. You may be too busy.”

  “I’ll be busy, but not that busy. I can replace a railing. It won’t take long.”

  “You may be busier than you think.” She opened the front door and started toward her bedroom. “Come in here a minute.” She used the kind of matter-of-fact tone that would suggest more home maintenance issues. But she quivered in anticipation. “I have a problem in this room.”

  “If it’s a plumbing issue, I may need help. I’m good with the carpentry stuff and a few minor plumbing repairs, but I won’t guarantee I can handle the big jobs.” He set his duffle on the living room floor before continuing to follow her.

  “It’s not the plumbing.” She turned back toward him and gestured toward his duffle. “You might want to bring that with you.”

  “It’s only my clothes. I don’t have any tools in there or...anything...” He stood in the middle of the living room and stared at her as comprehension dawned. “Lily?”

  “Does your duffle have anything in it besides clothes?”

  His breathing changed. “A few other things. Shaving gear, a toothbrush.” He shrugged, but his gaze never left hers. “The usual. Was there something in particular you wanted to know about?”

  “There is.” She swallowed. “You might not have brought it. If you didn’t, then I guess my...problem will have to wait.” Her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy.

  Heat flared in his dark eyes. “I think I might have what I need to fix your problem.”

  “Good.” She struggled to breathe. “Then would you please come in and evaluate the situation?” She turned and walked on shaky legs through the doorway into her bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the set of double-hung windows on the west wall. This wouldn’t be a scene enacted in the dark, with shadows to hide in. But with Regan, she didn’t need shadows. Taking the clasp from her hair, she tossed it on the bedside table. Then she turned and watched him walk into the room.

  He paused just inside the door and the duffle slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. “The sun...” He cleared his throat. “The sun is all around you. Just like this morning...in the barn.”

  “I’ll never forget the way you looked at me, Regan. And what you said.”

  His voice dropped to a low, urgent murmur. “I still ache for you, Lily.”

  “I’m counting on that.” She untied the tails of her shirt and slowly began unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. “Because I ache for you, too.” Sliding her shirt off, she let it fall noiselessly to the floor. “Are you ready to take that dive?”

  “God, yes.” He closed the distance in two long strides and cupped her face in both hands. For a long moment he gazed into her eyes as his thumbs lightly caressed her cheeks. The air seemed to crackle between them. “Thank you for trusting me enough to be here.”

  She flattened her palms against the solid wall of his chest and absorbed the warmth. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

  His mouth tilted in a soft smile. “And I’m not even kissing you yet.”

  “I noticed that. Are you planning to get around to it?”

  “Oh, yeah. But I have a feeling that once I start kissing you, all hell is going to break loose. It sure did last time.” He combed his fingers gently through her hair. “You’re potent.”

  “Backatcha.”

  He sucked in a breath and his attention dropped to her mouth. “Oh, Lily. This is going to be wild.”

  “Good.”

  His fingers tightened on her scalp as his gaze met hers. The fire in his eyes burned with enough heat to melt the clothes off her body. “See how you are?” His voice roughened. “No wonder I’m half-crazy with wanting you, Lily King. But that’s why I thought that maybe, before we got into it, I should apologize in advance if I...forget myself and become a little...out of control.”

  A tsunami of lust slammed into her. “Now, Regan. Kiss me now.”

  With a groan, he captured her mouth with such urgency that she clutched his shirt in both hands. Her world began to tilt. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. His tongue, deep and questing, his lips demanding all she had to give, his fingers pressed against her jaw, coaxing her to open to him—she surrendered to it all with reckless abandon.

  His mouth found the pulse at her throat and nipped the soft skin there, sending a jolt of desire straight to her core. She grew moist and pliable, eager to offer herself to him in every way a woman could offer herself to a man.

  And he took, continuing down the slope of her breast. Somehow her bra had been eliminated, but she couldn’t remember how or when. Bending her backward over his arm, he teased her aroused nipple with his lips and tongue. She arched shamelessly into his caress and held his head there, right there. His cheeks hollowed as he rhythmically sucked, and each firm tug heightened the pressure coiling within her.

  When she thought she would surely come apart in his arms, he eased his mouth from her breast and began a new journey. Holding her steady with hands bracketing her hips, he crouched down as he trailed kisses from the underside of her breast to the fastening of her jeans.

  “Undo this.” His hot breath wafted against her skin as his tongue dipped into her navel and he kneaded her backside with supple fingers.

  She barely managed the job. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the metal button.

  “Hurry.” He nibbled and licked her fingers as she worked.

  His questing mouth gave her a vivid preview of what he intended once her jeans were undone, and her hands trembled even more. “You’re...you’re not helping.”

  “I’m an impatient man.” He thrust his tongue into the crevice between each of her fingers.

  Her womb clenched in response. Finally she worked the button free and reached for the zipper.

  “Never mind.” He nudged her out of the way with his chin and caught the tab between his teeth.

  Continuing his sensuous massage through the soft denim of her jeans, he drew the zipper down. The ragged sound of their breathing mingled with the rasp of interlocking metal giving way. Anticipation pounded through her veins and threatened to shove her over the edge before he even touched her.

  The zipper reached the end of its track. Deft hands slipped inside the waistband of both jeans and panties and eased them over her hips and down to her knees.

  She quivered, and a soft moan slipped unbidden from her lips.

  His voice was tight with restraint. “You might want to hold on, pretty lady.” As he gripped her from behind, his fingers gently coaxed her forward. Then he leaned in and touched her throbbing pulse point with the tip of his tongue. “So beautiful.” He made a slow circle, and another.

  She cried out and clutched his head in both hands as a spasm shook her and her knees nearly buckled.

  Tightening his grip, he began a steady, relentless assault. The liquid sound of his talented mouth caressing her, whether the pace was slow and languid or rapid and urgent, never stopped. She began to pant as heat sluiced through her veins and gathered, heavy with promise, at the quivering juncture of her thighs.

  Then he shifted his angle and delved deeper, tasting her so intimately that she gasped. His boldness should have shocked her, but she was too far gone, too immersed in the whirlpool of pleasure he’d created. She wanted what he was giving her—all of it.

  As her climax bore down on her, she dug her fingertips into his scalp and arched her hips, shamelessly inviting him to take everything he wanted. He ramped up the pressure one more notch, and she came, and came hard, in a spiraling surge that lifted her to her toes and wrenched a long, keening cry from her throat.

  And still he didn’t stop. Burrowing deep, he brought her upward again, until her breathless cries filled the room and she lost track of whether she was standing or falling. Then strong arms swept her up and laid her, quivering a
nd moaning, on the bed.

  He kissed her mouth, her closed eyelids, her cheeks and her hair as he crooned soft words of praise. Yet he was the one who deserved praise. She would give it, too, if she ever recovered, if her vocal cords ever began functioning again and her lungs could drag in enough air.

  For now, all she wanted was to lie here with her eyes closed and savor the wonder of an orgasm to end all orgasms. And she thought she’d understood what sexual pleasure was all about. Not even.

  At some point he stopped kissing her and the next thing she felt was her boots coming off. She thought that was funny, because she’d forgotten she was still wearing them. But she didn’t have the energy to laugh. Once the boots had hit the floor, he pulled off her jeans and panties.

  Then she heard nothing but silence. Wondering if he’d left the room, she opened her eyes to discover him gazing at her. She didn’t mind. After what they’d just shared she could hardly play the modesty card.

  Besides, judging from his expression, he was mighty happy with what he saw. He looked—there was no other word for it, although thinking it made her blush—awestruck. She’d never experienced that before. It felt kind of nice, but strange, really strange.

  He swallowed. “You’re so beautiful, Lily.”

  Now she really was blushing. Letting him stare at her as if she had an amazing body was one thing, but hearing him say it out loud was going a little far. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that just because we—”

  “It has nothing to do with that. Yeah, I wanted to get you naked for my own selfish reasons, but I hadn’t counted on how seeing you that way would affect me. I was too busy a while ago to pay attention, but believe me, I’ll pay attention from now on. You’re magnificent.”

  “Magnificent? No.” She rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand. “I’m reasonably good-looking.” She swept a hand down her body. “Except for all the freckles.”

  “Are you kidding me? Your freckles are the best part of you.” He grinned. “Well, okay, maybe not the best part.”

  “You’re referring to my brain, of course.”

  He continued to smile as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Of course.”

  “I always wanted to be that tanned girl you see in bathing-suit commercials, but I don’t tan. Mostly I look as if someone sprinkled me with nutmeg.”

  “Or cinnamon.” He unsnapped the cuffs of his shirt, took it off and tossed it on the old rocker she had sitting in a corner of the room. “I like nutmeg and cinnamon.”

  Talk about spicy. The guy could fill out a white cotton T-shirt. A few minutes ago she’d thought her sexual urges were tamed for now, but watching him undress taught her that wasn’t exactly true.

  “Nutmeg and cinnamon remind me of pumpkin pie. You know, your hair is sort of pumpkin colored, so it all fits.” He reached behind his back and grabbed the neck of his T-shirt to pull it over his head.

  “FYI, most girls don’t like to think their hair is the color of a pumpkin, even if it is.”

  “Uh-oh. Did I lose points?” His voice was muffled as his head disappeared temporarily inside the T-shirt.

  By the time he’d pulled it off and tossed it on the rocker with the other one, she’d dismissed the pumpkin-colored-hair remark. Regan O’Connelli stood before her, a tousle-haired, shirtless cowboy fantasy if she’d ever seen one. She gazed upon the bounty he presented so casually, as if the sight of him half-naked wouldn’t set her heart to thumping.

  “No, you didn’t lose points.” She couldn’t stop staring. Women bought calendars with photos of guys like this, men with broad shoulders, powerful pecs, washboard abs and a sprinkling of dark hair as a final touch. But Regan was no two-dimensional pinup. He was the real deal—irreverent enough to make her laugh, sexy enough to send her libido into overdrive and sentimental enough to hold images of emotional cliff diving close to his heart.

  “I’m glad.” He sat on the rocker and pulled off a boot. “I’d hate to lose points at a critical time like this.” His muscles bunched as he took off the second boot.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” She considered going over to help him with the rest of the process, because she desperately wanted to touch him. At last she’d be allowed, probably even encouraged, to smooth her hands over the sculpted planes of his body.

  But if she stayed where she was, she could watch him take off the rest of his clothes, which would give her a visual that she’d cherish forever. It wasn’t every day that a girl had such a fine specimen of manhood undressing in her bedroom.

  After pulling off his socks, he stood and walked barefoot over to the duffle he’d left by the door. Unzipping it, he reached inside, took out a box and held it up. “Could this be the item you were asking about earlier?”

  “Uh-huh.” Seeing the box in his hand and knowing he’d soon be using its contents brought her right back to the trembling anticipation she’d felt when he’d first walked into her bedroom.

  “Didn’t know if I’d need these.” Opening the box, he held her gaze as he walked over to the bed.

  “Really? You couldn’t tell I was folding like a cheap card table?”

  His smile flickered. “I thought maybe you were, but sometimes when you desperately want something, you imagine what isn’t there.”

  “It was there.” A tremor of desire ran through her, making her hot and shaky. She lay back on the bed and drew in a deep breath. “Still is.”

  His hungry gaze swept over her, lingering on her tight nipples and flushed skin. “I can see that.” He took out a packet and laid it on the bedside table. “You can open that if you feel like it.”

  “Not quite yet, cowboy. Not until I’ve had my hands...and my mouth...all over you.”

  That got the reaction she was hoping for. He peeled off his jeans and briefs in no time.

  Her eyes widened as she beheld the gift she was about to receive. Regan O’Connelli had been blessed. And so had she, because for a solid week, that spectacular equipment would be hers to command. She couldn’t get much luckier than that.

  11

  REGAN WAS A huge fan of making love in broad daylight, but he’d never found a woman who agreed with him. Until now. Lily hadn’t suggested pulling the curtains or lowering the blinds. Instead her blue eyes sparkled as she demanded that he stretch out on her blue flowered quilt, smack in the middle of a patch of sunlight.

  He didn’t much care if he was illuminated, but when she straddled his thighs and sat there surveying the territory, those same sunbeams played with her curly red hair. He would still want her if she cut it all off, but he hoped she wouldn’t do that, because that hair symbolized her in a way he might never be able to explain. Maybe it was the shockingly bright color, or the riotous curls, or her decision to keep it long so it fanned out around her shoulders in such dramatic fashion.

  The sunlight also lovingly showcased her breasts. They weren’t large, but they were sweetly curved, tipped with rosy nipples and dusted with nutmeg and cinnamon freckles. Eventually he’d kiss every single freckle on her pale skin. But now she proclaimed it was her turn to kiss him, and he wasn’t about to deny her that.

  When she leaned forward, her stomach bumped his erect cock. She settled lower, brushing against it as if she had no idea what she was doing. Slowly she stretched down far enough to nibble on his mouth as her body swayed over his. Her tight nipples tickled his pecs, along with locks of hair that tumbled over her shoulders and onto his chest. And always, always, her flat stomach slid against his throbbing erection.

  Each time her flushed skin came in contact with the head of his penis, the sensation was that of warm silk caressing that increasingly sensitive spot. He stroked her smooth back and squeezed her firm backside. Seeking to even the odds, he allowed his fingers to stray, seeking that moist cleft he’d so recently tasted.

  “No.” She nip
ped gently at his bottom lip. “Not allowed.”

  “I think you like it.” The deeper he probed, the wetter she became.

  Her breathing hitched. “Stop. I want to concentrate on you.”

  He loved knowing he could affect her that way. He kept stroking. “Don’t mind me. Just keep doing whatever you’re doing, and I’ll keep doing whatever I... Ouch! That’s my earlobe!”

  “And those are my teeth.”

  “Sharp little dudes.”

  “I’ll make it better.” She sucked on the spot she’d bitten.

  “Mmm.” He hadn’t known his earlobe was an erogenous zone. Maybe with Lily every inch of his body was an erogenous zone.

  Her breath warmed his ear. “Move your hands away from my happy place, cowboy. It’s my turn. I promise you’ll be glad you gave me one.”

  That sounded promising, so he slipped his hands free and stroked his damp fingers up and down the backs of her thighs. “Can I do this? I love touching you, Lily. Your skin feels...almost as if it’s humming.”

  “I know.” She licked a path down the side of his neck. “And it’s your fault, too. It’s like I stuck my finger in a light socket. But I’m going to make you come, and then you’ll be in the same shape as me.”

  He groaned as she continued to tease him. He didn’t want to come yet. She could play around if she wanted to, but he wanted the joy of sinking into her and creating that ultimate connection. That was important to him.

  But he was in danger of forgetting what was important as the underside of his cock grew slick with the moisture that gathered on the tip in response to her casual, seemingly accidental, touch. It was no accident, he was sure, and his balls drew up, aching with anticipation. At last she began nibbling lower, trailing kisses along his collarbone and gently biting his nipples.

  He hadn’t known that would make his bad boy twitch, but it did. Maybe whatever she did with her mouth would have that effect, but he was yearning for one certain caress. He hoped that was part of her plan, but if she didn’t go that route, he might spontaneously erupt just thinking about her hot mouth taking him throat-deep.