“I don’t know that Kate ever actually used it,” Rafe said. “In fact, I’d forgotten all about it. You’re the first manager she’s hired.”
Elena knew that Kate lived with Mac in his bungalow, situated by the creek down past the lower horse field. Smart woman, she thought, knowing which living space she’d have chosen, if given the option. Especially considering the roommate that came with it. “Any wedding plans there?” she asked.
“Does there have to be?”
“No, of course not. I wasn’t passing judgment, just wondering. In fact, it’s not even any of my business. I haven’t been around all that long, but anyone can see they’re great together.”
Rafe shrugged and finally dropped his hands and stepped back. “Exactly. They seem pretty happy with the status quo.”
Figures—mention commitment to a guy, even indirectly, and he bolts. “Power to them, I say. Relationships are hard enough. Whatever’s working, works. It was nothing more than good wishes on my part.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Relationships. You seem to believe in happily-ever-after and saying I do’s, so why aren’t you married? Or are you?”
She was a little taken aback by that. Not that they’d been doing anything more than a little flirting, but she wasn’t the type to even engage in that much if she was otherwise involved. But she could hardly act insulted, as that would imply there was some involvement with him. “No, single. But I’ve nothing against the institution. My parents had a long, happy marriage, so I’ve seen it work and work well.”
“Not one of the battle-scarred, then.”
She smiled a little at his characterization. “Said like a true war veteran.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Not in the first person, no. I’ve avoided most of them. But I’ve witnessed my fair share.”
“Sounds like you made a point of that. Avoiding them, I mean.”
“Might have. Nothing wrong with occasionally not learning a lesson the hard way.”
“How did you learn it, then?”
“Well, none of us—”
“Who is ‘us’? Your family?”
“Me, Mac, Finn. Which is as close to brothers as I’ll ever have.”
“I suppose with a nickname like ‘Unholy Trinity,’ I shouldn’t be surprised that none of you is looking to get shackled. That is how you look at it, I suppose. Shackled. Although Mac seems pretty happy to be, at least, somewhat entangled.”
“He is, but trust me, no one is more surprised about that than Mac. Kate, too, come to think of it.”
“Why is that?”
“We each came from different walks of life, but none of us, Kate included, came from what would be considered a traditional upbringing. In fact, none of us had what you had.”
She frowned. “My dad moved us all over the place—I never stayed anywhere for more than a few years. I had no siblings. I did have a horse pretty much all of my life, but that’s hardly traditional.”
“I meant your parents. A long, happy union. Role models for what can be. None of us had that.”
“I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not whining over it, just stating facts. All in all, I think Finn’s the only one who’d consider going down the aisle. He’s a glass-half-full kind of guy.” A dry smile curved his lips. “Of course, he’d have to slow down long enough to actually develop a relationship in the first place, so small chance there.”
“So, Mac is happily involved with Kate, who was also, you say, without the role models, and now Finn is a possible candidate for matrimony—or something enduring, anyway, or at least open to the idea. And yet you avoid it entirely. No curiosity? No desire for family? Perfectly happy with the idea of growing old alone?”
She had no business asking him this, but she was truly curious to hear his answer.
He folded his arms and leaned back against one of the post beams. “What about you?” was his response. “What are your hopes?”
She tried not to stare at the way his folded arms pulled the fabric of his sweatshirt tight over his biceps. Or the way it made his shoulders look wider. She forced her gaze up to his. “I guess I would want what my parents had. I mean, who wouldn’t, you know? Doesn’t necessarily mean marriage, but that kind of life—a long bond. They were each other’s best friends. And, I guess, I wouldn’t settle for less than that, either. But, to be honest, it hasn’t been something I’ve been focused on.”
“That makes two of us, then.”
“Yes. Yes, it does,” she agreed.
There. Independence clearly stated. Sexual tension resolved, she thought. He’s not looking, and neither am I. So why wasn’t she relieved?
Because the sexual tension hadn’t abated one whit. Mostly because commitment had nothing to do with lust. She could be as lustful as she wanted, crave his touch, want to know what he tasted like, felt like…and have absolutely no intention of settling into any kind of relationship with him. She wasn’t a one-night-stand type. But she found herself actually thinking there might be exceptions. Circumstances being what they were, and all, she could be forgiven for simply taking what she could have. Right?
Hardly. In her dreams was the only place she was going to do all the things she wanted to do with Raphael Santiago. And that’s the way it was going to stay. Had to stay.
“So,” she said, her tone overly bright. “You ready for lesson number two?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
They left the barns and climbed into the golf cart he’d ridden over in. The sun was just breaking fully over the treeline in the far distance, at the back of the lower fields, making her shade her eyes as he expertly steered the cart over the rutted path back to the main stables. A heavy mist hung in the air, chilling her skin. But, after their heated little encounter, the dampness felt good. Refreshing. Head-clearing.
Once at the big barn, she led the way down the aisle toward Petunia’s stall. “It’s been a while since your first lesson, so keep in mind that you’ll probably need to reestablish your rapport with Petunia.”
“Check.” He said nothing else, just followed behind her.
She stopped at the tack room door and went inside. “I haven’t set anything out, so we need to get her saddle, pads, bridle, everything.”
He followed her into the smaller room. “Just point to what we need.”
She could feel him behind her, her awareness of him as finely tuned as her senses were to the animals she worked with. Except with him, there was all that sexual energy jacking things up. She cleared her throat, maybe squared her shoulders a little, then made the mistake of looking back at him before reaching for the first of the gear.
Something about the morning beard shadowing his jaw, the way his hair wasn’t quite so naturally perfect, made his eyes darker, and enhanced how impossibly thick his eyelashes were. And she really, really needed to stop looking at his mouth. But the ruggedness the stubble lent to his face just emphasized all the more those soft, sculpted lips of his.
Her thighs were quivery, her nipples were on point, and the panties she’d just put on not fifteen minutes ago were already damp. The morning air might have been head-clearing, but her body hadn’t gotten the message at all.
“You take the saddle there,” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she knew she did. Dammit. “On the third rail,” she added, pointing, when he kept that dark gaze on her.
“What else?” He didn’t even glance at the rack.
“Grab one of the pads. Same kind we used last time. I’ll get the halter and bridle.”
“Okay.”
She waited a heartbeat too long for him to move first. He didn’t.
So they were officially staring at each other now. The silence in the small space expanded in a way that lent texture to the very air between them. The room was tiny, the temperature warm, with little ventilation. The sun hadn’t risen enough to slice through the panels on the roof, leaving the
room deep in shadows, with thin beams of gray dawn providing the only light. There was a light bulb overhead, but she’d have to reach past him to get to the switch.
He stepped forward. “Elena—”
“Rafe—”
They spoke at the same time, then both broke off.
He paused. “Yes?”
She really wanted to know what he’d been about to say before she’d potentially made a very big fool out of herself, but went ahead before she lost her nerve. “I can’t—I mean, not to be presumptuous here, but I can’t—don’t—mix business with pleasure.”
“Are we?”
She didn’t back down. She might not be the most experienced person in the world when it came to relationships, but she knew the way he was looking at her wasn’t of the innocent teacher-student variety. “It feels like more than a simple riding lesson to me.” There. She’d said it.
He took another step closer, and her breath suddenly felt trapped inside her chest. So much for being brazen.
“It is a simple riding lesson,” he said. “Not a corporate merger. So what if there is more? I don’t really see a conflict of interest here.”
“You’re a close friend of my boss.”
He stepped closer still. It was a small room to begin with. He was definitely invading her personal space. Again.
“And you’re not planning on staying here long-term anyway, right?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Meaning that as potential conflicts go, that one is temporary at best. As is anything that may happen between us. No commitments, right?” His voice was all just-rolled-out-of-bed rough.
“What are you saying, then?” she asked, tipping her chin up slightly as he shifted closer. She felt the bridle rack at her back. “What is it you want?”
“I just want to learn to ride.” His lips curved then, and her thighs—or more accurately, the muscles between them—suddenly felt a whole lot more wobbly.
His eyes were so dark, so deep, she swore she could fall right into them and never climb back out. And that smile made it dizzyingly clear that horses weren’t the only thing he was interested in riding.
It was too early in the day for this. She couldn’t handle this kind of full-out assault on her senses. Or on her mind. Or…hell, what part of her didn’t he affect? He muddled her up far too easily. Muddled was definitely not what she needed to be right now.
But when he lifted his hand, barely brushing the underside of her chin with his fingertips, and tipped her head back a bit further…she let him.
“I think about you,” he said, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper.
Her skin tingled as if the words themselves had brushed against her.
“Too often. You distract me.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s…an unexpected thing,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what to think about that. And his neutral tone made it impossible to determine how he felt about it. “So, this is…what? An attempt to exorcise me from your thoughts?”
His smile broadened as his mouth lowered slowly toward hers. “Either that, or make all this distraction a lot more worthwhile.”
She had a split second to decide whether to let him kiss her, and spent a moment lying to herself that she was actually strong enough to do the right thing and turn her head away. Who was she kidding? Her body was fairly humming in anticipation and it was all she could do to refrain from grabbing his head and hurrying him the hell up.
Like he said. It was just a kiss. Not a contract.
His lips brushed across hers. Warm, a little soft, but the right amount of firm. He slid his fingers along the back of her neck, beneath the heavy braid that swung there, sending a delicious little shiver all the way down her spine.
He dropped another whisper of a kiss across her lips, then another, inviting her to participate, clearly not going any further unless she did. She respected that, a lot, even though part of her wished he’d taken the decision out of her hands. It would make all the self-castigation later much easier to avoid. Given his aversion to commitment, somehow she figured he knew that. They were either in it together, or not at all.
He lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes, a silent question in his own. Will you, or won’t you?
She held his gaze for what felt like all eternity, then slowly lowered her eyelids as she closed the distance between them and kissed him back.
His fingers twitched against the back of her neck when she opened her mouth on his, then pressed a bit harder as he accepted the invitation and sank his teeth gently into her bottom lip, tugging a little, before taking the kiss deeper.
He was as natural at kissing as he’d been at horseback riding. She’d known he would be, and her entire body thrilled at the knowledge that he’d be even better in bed.
He walked her so her back pressed up against the bridle rack. She didn’t mind the leather and bits digging into her back. She didn’t even really feel them. Because she was too busy feeling Rafe Santiago slide his tongue into her mouth. And if his skill in teasing her tongue with his own was any indication of just how clever that tongue might be in other places…She heard a deep, sensual groan, and realized, distantly, it was her own.
Somehow her fingers had found his shoulders, sinking into the hard muscle she discovered there, before sliding along the back of his neck, and burrowing into all those thick, dark waves. He pressed his hips into hers, growling just a little, as she scraped her nails along his scalp. He fit perfectly between her legs and she pushed back, cradling the hard bulge pressing there as she clutched at his head to keep his mouth on hers.
He dueled with her tongue, controlling the kiss as he drew his thumbs along her jawline, before sliding his fingertips down the length of her neck to her collarbone. Now it was her turn to groan as he efficiently popped the clasps of her overalls, allowing the front bib to drop away so he could cup his palms over her breasts. She moaned as he broke their kiss and began to leave a trail of kisses and nips along her jaw, around to the sensitive spot below her ear, as he gently rolled her hard nipples between his fingers.
She wanted to claw her clothes off, feel his skin against hers. She was still clutching his head as he lowered it to replace his fingers with his mouth. He left wet marks as he suckled her through her shirt. The combination of the damp heat and the waffled weave of her long underwear she wore created an exquisite friction that had her climbing a peak without any further stimulation.
She was pushing her hips forward, seeking that sweet, hard bulge she’d felt moments before, but which his current position prevented her from having. Dammit, she wanted it all. His mouth on her, the hard length of him between her legs, buried deep inside of her. She was all but coming apart at the seams as he continued to drive her wild. She dragged his mouth back to hers so he could press his hips into hers again, and groaned in deep satisfaction when he pinned her tightly to the rack and slid his hands down her sides, over her hips, pulling at her thighs, urging her to wrap her legs around him as he once again took her mouth with his in a soul-deep kiss.
The instant she lifted one leg up over his hip so he could sink the full weight and length of him against her, she peaked and peaked hard. The strength of it stunned her, robbing her of breath, but he kept up just the right amount of sweet pressure so she could wring every last pulsing bit of pleasure from the contact. Breathless as he nibbled the side of her neck, she had no idea what to say as the reality of what she was doing began to crash back in.
“Rafe—”
“Shh,” he instructed, taking her mouth again, only this time in a kiss so gentle, it seduced her all over again.
She was powerless against this, against him. It was too good, and he was impossible to push away. Especially when she didn’t really want the contact to end. She shut out thoughts of what would happen next and tried hard, very hard, to just enjoy this for what it was.
She kissed him back, her fingers still in h
is hair, toying with the thick waves as he continued. She’d stop him. At some point. Just not quite yet.
He slowed the kiss, then finally ended it. But rather than having an awkward moment when he lifted his head and looked into her eyes again, he smiled. And she smiled back. And it was somehow normal, and natural, with a little hint of co-conspirator twinkling in his eyes, as if they had these little assignations all the time. And she couldn’t help but think how wonderful that would be.
He slid his hands between them and tugged her bib back into place. “Seems I’ve left your shirt a bit damp.” He lifted an amused gaze to hers, and rather than be embarrassed, she laughed. Thinking back to the enigmatic man who’d watched her in silence all those times before they’d actually met, she’d never have thought him playful. And yet he was, delightfully so.
She helped him with the clasps. “Seems so,” she said, “but then I’m used to getting a little mussed-up at work.”
“Are you, now.” A rather wicked, speculative gleam entered his eyes and her body responded instantly, quite willing to go along with whatever he had in mind.
He slid her long braid over her shoulder and toyed with the ends of it, glancing up through those impossibly thick lashes. He flicked the ends across the front of her bib, and though she couldn’t feel anything through the heavy denim, just the act alone, and what it implied he was thinking, made her twitchy and needy all over again. It was crazy, what he was doing to her, and worse, that she was simply letting him. She wasn’t even trying to level the playing field, allowing him full control of the situation.
But it felt pretty damn good not to be in charge. Not to mention he was taking very good care of her and seemed to be enjoying it. Having always been the caretaker in her world, it was heady stuff, having someone seek out her needs and want to fulfill them. “Rafe, I—”
A sudden gasp from the doorway behind him froze them both into place.
“I’m so sorry. I was just—never mind. Sorry!”
Rafe turned his head toward the still-open doorway, allowing Elena to see past his shoulder…and right into the wide blue eyes of Tracey, who was presently backing up, tripping over a bucket out in the aisle, barely catching herself in time before crashing into the stall door behind her.
The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty Page 12