by Mia Sheridan
I kissed her inner thigh and then crawled up her body. When I reached her face, her expression was full of so much joyful awe, I blinked. She laughed, the sound so full of happiness that I leaned in and kissed her, smiling against her laughing mouth. She gripped my face in her hands and kissed me and whispered, “More,” against my mouth, pressing her hips upward into my swollen cock. I broke from her mouth, hissing out a breath. I had just meant to bring her pleasure, hadn’t meant to take my own. But she was asking me for this, and I was lost. There suddenly didn’t seem to be one good reason why we shouldn’t enjoy every part of each other on this rainy night. It was only the two of us finding comfort, finding joy where there was still joy to be found.
I pulled my own underwear off inexpertly, as if I’d never undressed myself before, my movements jerky and awkward, and chuckled softly at myself. Belle smiled, too, and then reached between us, taking my hardened flesh in her hand and sliding up slowly, then down. I groaned, my head falling against her shoulder as I worked to control my breath, my heartbeat pounding wildly with the arousal coursing through my body.
I’d never had the chance to use this empty building as a horny teenager, but I imagined this was what it would have been like. I was a grown man and yet with this woman, somehow I’d reverted back to an inexperienced boy so turned on he was practically coming apart at the seams.
Belle didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, there was a joy emanating from her I’d never experienced during sex. With her, there was nothing feigned, no artifice, only an innocent candor that was both beautiful and arousing. It allowed me to let myself go in a way I didn’t know if I’d done for a long, long time, if ever.
Belle guided me to her opening, and I kissed her as I entered her body, groaning at the tight clasp of her, the way she squeezed me from the inside, her legs wrapped around my hips. For a moment I just breathed, willing myself not to come the moment I started moving. She felt so fucking good.
I thought I said her name, but I couldn’t be sure it made its way past my lips. Then I started moving, slowly at first as she gasped, tilting her hips so I could go deeper. “Oh God,” I grunted. “Belle, sweetheart, you feel amazing.” I thrust faster, our skin warm and slightly damp, not with rain, not anymore, but with the exertions of our bodies.
I brought my hand between where we were joined, finding her swollen bundle of nerves and rubbing it gently. She ran her hands up and down my straining biceps, her breath coming out in small pants. She came again a second before my own orgasm hit me with the force of a freight train, stars bursting before my eyes as complete bliss ran through me in waves, our mingled moans of pleasure echoing through the room.
In a pleasure fog, I found her mouth, kissing her as I came down. She was smiling and it caused my heart to gallop faster in my chest. I broke from her lips, surprised at the joy I felt. “What’s so funny?” I whispered, teasing.
She laughed as I pulled out of her, her laugh turning into a small, disagreeable sound.
I grinned, falling onto my back and reaching for her, bringing her with me. She lay half on top of me, running her fingers lazily over my chest. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said dreamily.
“Like what?” I asked softly, yet in truth, I didn’t either. At least . . . not anymore. That was the unbridled sex of youth, of two people who had nothing to prove and nothing to lose. Tomorrow that wouldn’t be us . . . No, it couldn’t be. We had two very separate lives, intertwining for such a short window of time. It was just this night, these circumstances, and the all-encompassing need for a release after the emotions of the day.
“Like . . . that place you took me to in the woods.” She tilted her head back, and God, she was stunning. That smile. That . . . exhilaration. “Like magic.”
I ran my fingers up the silky smooth skin of her arm, learning her, even as something inside warned me it wasn’t particularly wise. I’d remember later, wouldn’t I? Lying alone in my bed in New York? The feel of her body beneath my own, the sweet taste of her most intimate skin, the way pleasure made her laugh with joy, the memory of all those things fading, but not enough.
But I’d never lost sleep over a woman. Frankly, I was too damn busy. And so I’d lose myself in my work as I always did and sooner rather than later, this night with Belle would be a sweet, sweet memory but nothing more.
“What are you thinking so hard about up there?” she asked, running a finger around my nipple, tickling me. I laughed, grabbing her hand and holding it in my own over my heart. “I’m thinking I’m glad you called me last week.”
I felt her smile against my skin. “Has it only been a week?”
“Hard to believe, right? That life can change so quickly.”
“No. Not for me. Not anymore.”
I bent my head and kissed her forehead. Of course, who knew better than Belle that your whole world could change from one day to the next?
“How long will you stay?” she asked softly.
I paused for a moment. “I can’t stay much longer. A couple of days.”
“And will you . . . be back? I mean before—”
“I don’t think so, Belle.”
For a moment she was quiet, and then she nodded, laying her cheek against my chest. “You haven’t made up with your father.”
I sighed, lifting a lock of her hair, rubbing it between my fingers. “I don’t know if that’s possible. But, I think we came to a truce of sorts. Maybe it’s too late to hug and make up, but we spoke for the first time in many years, and that counts for something.”
She was quiet for a moment. “It does.”
I continued playing idly with her hair and after a moment her breathing changed, becoming deep and even. For a few minutes I lay in the quiet, listening to the snap of the dying fire, thinking about what we’d talked about—how quickly life could change. Wishing I could hold on to this—her—for a little bit longer, and knowing there just wasn’t a way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brant
The Graystone Hill stable came into view just as the sun had crept over the horizon. The sight was welcome yet caused a hollow feeling of melancholy in my gut. Real life was upon us—the night of intimacy we’d shared already feeling like a distant dream. Maybe we’d stepped through that portal in the circle of trees after all, and yesterday and last night had only been part of a vivid dream. Or at least that’s how it felt.
We’d woken as the first gray light of dawn filtered in the windows overhead. Belle’s naked body had been curled against mine and for a moment I’d simply lain there, allowing myself to enjoy this last sweet moment with her. But she must have sensed that I was awake because she’d stirred, opening her eyes, and we’d risen, pulled on our clothes sleepily, and gathered our things. Belle was sleepy-eyed and reticent, which I attributed to the early hour. I hoped things wouldn’t be awkward between us, but I felt unusually distracted, off balance. I’d never felt that way after spending the night with a woman. I supposed it was because we’d not only shared our bodies the night before, but Belle, at least, had shared her heart with me. And even though I hadn’t divulged any deeply personal information, it felt as if I’d shared something with her I’d never shared with anyone else.
I’d picked up the key hanging on a silver chain from where I’d set it on the old trunk the night before and handed it to her. Our eyes had met as I’d placed the necklace in her open palm, something flashing between us—the memory of what had happened directly after I’d removed it from around her neck. The places my lips had trailed . . . I’d felt the memory of those moments arcing between us. Pulsing. Her eyes had moved from mine, and she’d continued gathering her belongings.
The ride back to the stable had been slow-going with Starshine being led behind us on a rope, but the rain had stopped, the sun was out, and at least we could see where the horses were stepping, and what areas to lead them around. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Starshine was okay, and considered how I’d surprised myself the night be
fore with how much I’d remembered about this acreage. Even though this farmland stretched for farther than the eye could see, I’d never forgotten each hill and hollow. I hadn’t realized what an integral part of me it was.
I glanced at Belle, at the elegant lines of her profile, the way she held her spine and wondered what it would be like to know a woman like I still knew this land—to know the flash of her eyes just as I still knew the way the sun glinted off the dew-heavy hills. To know the curves and lines of her flesh the way I still knew every hill and valley. To know the specific flavor of each place on her body the way I still knew how sweet the stream water would be on my tongue after a long day riding. At the thought of Belle’s taste, blood rushed south, skin heated. What would it be like if she were mine? If I could stop right now, pull her down from her horse, and kiss away the wariness in her eyes, rid her of that faraway look so she could focus on nothing but my hands on her curves, my lips on her—
Christ. I grimaced, painfully hard now, adjusting myself in my saddle. Dangerous thoughts. And though they filled me with desire, they also filled me with fear. Too strong. Too possessive. Belle glanced over, her eyes widening on whatever was in my expression, but she didn’t question or comment. She looked toward the stable and spurred Mona Lisa on as she patted her on the neck. “Look at that, girl, we made it home.”
Home.
Belle did consider this place home. And after everything she’d told me last night, I was so glad she’d found one. If anyone deserved peace, comfort, belonging, it was this woman.
We dismounted outside the stable and led the horses in. Mick was just arriving and he grinned when he saw us. “Well, thank Jesus,” he said. He clapped me on the back and then pulled Belle into his side, giving her a hug. She smiled sincerely, hugging him back.
“Hi, Mick. I’m sorry about last night. I was a little high-strung.”
He shook his head. “You were worried. We all know how much you love these horses. It was hard to think of one out there alone. I understand.”
Belle let out an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and turned, leading Mona Lisa to one of the stalls, Starshine following her mother.
Mick helped get the horses brushed, checked out, and fed, and we put them in a stall, Belle taking a moment to press her face to Mona Lisa’s neck, whispering words to her that I had a feeling were more for Belle than for her horse, who was happily chomping on her hay.
Just as she turned, a car pulled up outside the open door of the stable, the tires splashing the rain puddles still on the ground. We watched as a man I estimated to be in his late forties got out of his car. He had dark hair with a little bit of gray at the temples and was tall and lean, a man who obviously kept himself in good shape.
Belle sucked in a small, excited-sounding breath and then walked quickly to the open door. The man saw her, and smiled so brightly, my chest squeezed uncomfortably. She let out a happy sound and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.
What the fuck?
He laughed too, squeezing her back. The embrace lasted far too long for my comfort before he let go, stepping back and taking her hands. “You look great, Belle.”
She nodded and I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “I am good, Hank, though I’m just getting back from rescuing a lost horse, so I’m a bit of a mess.” She laughed, running her hand over her hair that she’d braided haphazardly when we’d woken earlier.
“You’re as beautiful as ever.”
She shook her head slightly. Her back was still to me, but I could just see the humble smile gracing those pretty lips. The lips that had been on me last night.
“It’s great to see you. What are you doing out here so early?”
The man—Hank—ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just checking on some leads for a case and was close enough that I thought I’d stop in on my way and check on you. I remembered you were usually up at sunrise and at the stable.”
She chuckled. “You know me well.”
He did? Well why the hell was that?
Belle looked back and spotted me where I was putting away the things we’d used to groom Mona Lisa and Starshine, but mostly where I was listening in on their conversation. She smiled warmly at me. “Hey Brant, come meet Hank Miller.”
I walked over, giving Hank a smile and an assessing look before shaking his hand. “Hank.”
“Brant.” His look was equally assessing and for a moment we both stood there, sizing each other up.
Belle cleared her throat. “Hank, Brant is Mr. Talbot’s son. Brant, Detective Miller worked on my case. He . . . found me that day. It was because of him that I survived.”
Detective Miller looked at Belle, something shifting in his eyes, the memory of that day maybe. His expression took on a note of sadness. “Yes. Another few minutes and . . .” He pulled in a breath and released it. “But my part was just good timing. It was because of you, that you survived.”
I winced slightly, feeling like an idiot. This was the man who’d saved Belle’s life. Christ, I’d buy him a beer or twenty if I wasn’t leaving Kentucky imminently. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, hoping my tone conveyed my sincerity, the deep gratitude I felt for this man who had been a hero to Belle when she’d needed one most.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Brant.” His smile seemed sincere as well. There was a small moment of awkwardness, and then I turned to Belle. “I’m going to head to the house. My dad will want to know that we’re back with the horses, and I’m sure you two can use some catching up.”
Belle smiled, opening her mouth as if to say something but then giving Hank a quick glance and closing it again. She nodded. “See you at the house.”
I shook Hank’s hand one more time and then walked to the house, letting myself in. Then I went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee and poured myself a cup, taking it out onto the porch.
I loved this spot. The fields and pastures stretched before me with a direct view to the stable below, the second stable a mere dot in the distance. The sun had completely risen in the sky and it looked as if the day was going to be warmer and hopefully dry. I spotted Belle walking along the fence line around the stable, Hank Miller at her side. Despite that I knew the role he’d played in her life, and was grateful for it, the sight of them strolling together made me feel edgy, and I wasn’t sure exactly why.
“What the hell were you two thinking going out in that mess last night?”
I turned around to see my father’s glower as he walked toward me.
“Good morning, Dad.”
He waved his hand around as if there was no time for niceties. “Could have gotten yourselves hurt or broken one of the horse’s legs.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’m aware.” I glanced to where they had stopped, my gaze lingering on them for a moment. “Isabelle was really worried about that foal. She was upset. I went with her. No one else would have.” They’d have tried to talk her down, insisted she stay, I thought, remembering the haunted look in her eyes, the desperation, the need I now knew stemmed from her own personal tragedy. I turned more fully toward my father. “But I could have dissuaded her. I could have held her back. Blame me, not her.”
His eyes narrowed on me and he stared for long moments, his eyes widening ever so slightly as if he’d had a sort of revelation. He swore softly under his breath.
But then his flinty gaze raked over me once again before he glanced to where Isabelle was and back to me. “Where’d you find to sleep in that drafty old building?”
I looked away, feeling like a guilty teen for some inexplicable reason. “In Gramps’ office. We made a fire.”
I kept my eyes averted and for a moment, there was only silence from him. “Aw, hell. Tell me you did not take advantage of Isabelle.”
I let out a surprised laugh, a jolt of anger ricocheting through me. “Take advantage? We’re adults. And what we do with our time is none of your damn business.”
He swore softly under his breath agai
n, looking genuinely pained, and for a moment I wondered if he was having another attack of some sort. “Isabelle is not the sort of woman you use for a night and then discard, goddamn you.”
“Jesus.” I turned away, leaning my hands on the porch railing. “You’re making this out to be something it’s not,” I said, gritting my teeth, my ire rising. Presumptuous old fool.
“So you slept with her?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“You don’t have to. It’s all over your face. Hell, it’s been there since the first day you arrived. Your eyes follow her everywhere. You going to marry her?”
I was stunned silent for a moment. “Marry her?” I asked, incredulously. “This isn’t the 1950s. Things don’t work that way anymore, Harrison.”
His eyes narrowed at the use of his name. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“And who the fuck are you to give me advice about what’s right?”
He cringed, and strangely, I took no satisfaction in it. Instead I felt a distant throb of shame. “Someone who’s made mistakes and lived to regret them,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself.
I sighed. “Anyway, it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t using her.”
He watched me for a moment. “Yeah? And what if she’s pregnant?”
I stared back. What the hell? “What? No, she . . .” I stared off behind him at the shingles on the house, trying to get my thoughts straight. I hadn’t used a condom. Hell, I’d been half out of my damn mind I’d wanted her so bad. It was no excuse but . . . didn’t women usually . . . No, of course Isabelle wouldn’t be on birth control. Ah, Christ. I knew better. In New York, I always carried condoms. I always had a plan . . . I never acted impulsively like I had last night.
“If she’s pregnant, Isabelle’s the type of woman who will expect you to marry her,” my father reiterated. “Do you know anything about her background?”