by Brant, Kylie
Tiny twin reflections of herself shone in his dark glasses. She remembered how carefully he’d protected her that first time and, more enticing, she remembered just how hot it had been last night, how out of control. There hadn’t been time, or thought, for protection. There’d been nothing between them, and a flashback of his velvety hardness inside her made her mouth tremble.
Something wild leaped inside Mac as he read the look on her face. Her expression was tantalizingly, innocently transparent. His blood began to pound as he read her thoughts. Never before had he failed to protect his partner. Not when he was a randy teenager, little more than a walking hormone, and never as an adult. Last night had been a first for him in that respect, and the lapse was disturbing. It was bad enough to realize he’d lost control so easily that he’d never given protection a second thought. But that wasn’t what had his jeans growing so tight now. No, that particular discomfort was due to the exquisite memory of how tightly she’d sheathed him, and how mind-blowingly fantastic it had felt to take her without anything between them. It was that memory, and not the concern over lack of protection, that had kept him awake for hours after she slept. He was no longer able to fool himself that he could withstand the lure Raine held for him. But he wasn’t going to take a risk with her again, and that vow had made this stop necessary.
“Sir?”
His head snapped to the clerk. She repeated the price for his purchase, and he quickly extracted a bill from his wallet and handed it to her. Shoving his change into his pocket, he slipped his wallet in place. Grabbing the sack in one hand and Raine’s elbow in the other, he growled softly in her ear, “Let’s go.”
They made one more stop, for a bucket of fried chicken and fixings, and then headed toward the coast. For the duration of the trip, Raine remained shaky from the silent, heated exchange. She usually lamented over how hard Macauley was to read. But in the drugstore his thoughts had been erotically clear.
When they finally stopped, she hopped out of the truck, eager to enjoy the spectacular view. Belatedly remembering that she had left him with everything to carry, she hurried back. He handed her her beach bag, stacked the food on the cooler and climbed out of the truck.
“Mac, there’s a sign that says this is private property,” she told him worriedly.
His long legs kept moving. “It is. I just finished a job for the owner last month.”
She had to trot to keep up with him. “He said you could use it?”
One corner of his mouth went up when he thought of the owner, and of Mark Rayburn’s gratitude when the job had been completed successfully on time. “He was grateful,” Mac acknowledged laconically. Access to the prime beachfront property was the least of what he’d offered Mac. He’d also been willing to introduce him to his daughter. Mac had accepted the first offer and declined the second. “He’s rarely here to use it himself. He has six other houses, I think.”
Raine scrambled down the dunes of sand, which had formed from the constant breeze off the ocean. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice hushed. Huge craggy rocks jutted up from the water. The waves crashed over them, sending splintered sprays of foam racing to the shore. More rocks dotted the beach, combining with the dunes to create an isolated, private paradise. “I can’t believe your client needs so many homes when he has one with a view like this.”
Mac set down his load and extracted two soft drinks from the cooler. When he turned back, his mouth went as dry as the sand beneath his feet. Raine had taken off her coverup to reveal a fairly modest bright blue one-piece suit. It was cut high on the thighs, showing off her slim legs to advantage. Other than that, there was nothing the least bit daring about it. Mac was used to his female companions showing quite a bit more skin at the beach, either in a thong bikini or in nothing at all. He couldn’t remember any of them eliciting this kind of reaction from him. He watched her slim hips move as she took two large beach towels from her bag and spread them out on the sand.
He went over and dropped down on one. “You like it here?” he asked.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said sincerely. “I adore the water. There’s something so calming in watching the rhythm of the tide. If my finances had allowed it, beachfront would have been my choice when I bought my property. But the first time I saw my house, I felt that same kind of peace. It was a good choice for me.”
He’d been thinking about this all last night, and again this morning. But now, broaching the subject with her, he felt as though he was picking his way through a mine field. “What I mean is, if you like it here, you could stay for a while. We both could. It would just take one phone call to the owner. Just until this whole thing is over.”
She grew still as his meaning became clear. “You mean hide here.” Her voice was flat.
“No. I mean make sure you aren’t a target anymore. Keep a low profile. After the fire last night that should appeal to you.”
“Should it?” She turned to look at him. “Is that why you brought me here?” It was important all of a sudden for her to know. “Did you just want to get me out of the house so you could talk sense into me? Talk me into running away?”
His chest grew tight at the hurt that flickered across her face. It didn’t seem as if he could do anything right around her, and he cursed himself for his clumsiness. “It’s an option,” he said evenly. “You wanted to be apprised of all aspects of the case. You wanted to make the decisions. Well, this is a choice.”
She stared hard at him and then slowly relaxed. He was telling her the truth. And he was making it incredibly easy for her. All she had to say was yes. It was that simple. And he would see to it that whoever was harassing her wouldn’t even know where she was. No one could get to her, and she wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. It would be so easy to agree.
“I can’t,” she said softly, looking away. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I just can’t. Try to understand, Macauley. I stopped running a long time ago, and it wasn’t an easy habit to break. I can’t let myself begin again.” She knew she couldn’t adequately explain her determination to stand up to the threats in her own way. Certainly it wasn’t bravery on her part. It was more a need to fight against being overtaken by a fear that could be as crippling as any disease.
He was quiet for several minutes. His voice, when it came, was low. “All right. But if the time comes when I don’t believe I can protect you adequately in your own home, I won’t ask.”
She looked at him wordlessly.
“I’ll pack you up and take you somewhere else, argument or no.”
And she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. She appreciated the fact that he’d allowed her to make this decision. Not long ago, he would have faced her with a fait accompli. She wondered if he realized the significance of giving her this choice.
After a time she murmured, “I love the sound of the ocean.” She turned to look at Mac. “Sarah and I have been to Cancun three times. It’s great. Beautiful white beaches and rowdy bars downtown.” She smiled in remembrance. “Every time we go to the marketplace she tries to talk me into a tattoo.”
At his swift look down her body, she laughed. “She hasn’t convinced me yet. I’m not quite that adventurous. But I do like to return there. My idea of a perfect vacation would be to be out in the ocean on a seaworthy boat. I’d like to just drift, putting in to shore when I felt like it.”
Her tone was almost wistful, and her description appealing. It was damn close to what he’d had in mind for himself, before he’d agreed to take on another job. Before Raine.
They drowsed in the sun for the next couple of hours. Raine put on sunglasses against the glare of the sun, and to hide the fact that her gaze wandered, again and again, to Mac’s bare chest. He lay sprawled out on his back, looking like a sun god fallen to earth. His chest was already brown, and she remembered suddenly the remark he had made once about an all-over tan. Her eyes traveled down his torso to where his waist narrowed in the black trunks. His body would be firm, smooth
and warm. Her hand was tempted to touch him, but she couldn’t quite work up the courage.
Sensing her gaze on him, he turned on his side to face her. He took his glasses off and surveyed her soberly. Reaching out with one finger, he traced the line where her suit met the top of her breasts. She caught her breath at the action.
“Did you know all of those people at Klassen’s party last night?”
His question came out of the blue. And the movement of his finger made it difficult to formulate an answer.
“I . . . no. That is, André introduced me to most of them. A few—” Her voice broke off when his finger dipped into the valley of her cleavage. “A few I’d met . . . before.”
“There was an older man last night you were talking to.” His voice was expressionless, completely at odds with the liberty his errant finger was taking. “He had his hand planted on your arm the whole time.” He paused a heartbeat before adding almost soundlessly, “I didn’t like it.”
She remembered. She hadn’t enjoyed the feel of his hand on her bare skin, and had moved away as quickly as possible. “I’ve had to learn to handle myself in a crowd like that.”
Mac’s gaze was on the journey his finger was taking as it trailed inside her suit and skated over one nipple. Then his eyes returned to hers. “I didn’t like it,” he repeated flatly. Nor did he like the accompanying sensation of jealousy. It had been an emotion so unfamiliar that it had taken him a while to identify it. Jealousy was an unproductive emotion, a dangerous one. Jealous men acted rashly; they made mistakes. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake with Raine.
He hoped he wasn’t making one now, by allowing her to stay in her home. He’d weighed all the risks as he’d lain awake last night, and again this morning. He thought it would be fairly safe. After all, Raine wasn’t alone out there—she had him. She wouldn’t be hurt as long as she followed his orders. It still would be a while before the fence would be completed and the gates operational. But if this mess escalated, he’d remove her despite her protests.
His thoughts scattered when he felt her small hand on his chest. He reached over and removed her sunglasses. She could never hide her emotions from him if he could see her eyes. His stomach clenched when he read the desire simmering there. Her nipples stood up under the thin material of the swimsuit. He touched them, and she shuddered. He smiled slowly. She was innocently responsive to him, and she couldn’t disguise her reaction. The thought filled him with a purely male satisfaction.
He bent over her and pulled the swimsuit off both shoulders. Then he stopped, caught indecisively between pleasurable choices. He wanted to kiss her pretty breasts, but he tortured himself first by just looking at her. When they’d made love last night it had been too frantic, almost out of control. Today he wanted to take his time, to find all the secret places on her body that responded to him. Leisurely, he cupped one breast, enjoying the way it filled his palm. It was delicate, just as she was, and warmed by the sun. When he put his lips to her nipple and rolled it with his tongue, she made that little whimper in the back of her throat that had an immediate, electric effect on his groin. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as leisurely as he’d planned.
He moved closer to her, and she wriggled her arms free of the swimsuit straps so they could roam freely over his broad torso. The hair on his chest rasped her fingertips as she combed through it. She traced the muscles that defined his chest, then circled the nipples. She lost her breath as he raised his head and removed her swimsuit. Her eyes flew open, and she watched him stare at her with frank appreciation. There was something a little pagan about being stripped bare in the sunlight for a man’s enjoyment. No, not just a man, she corrected herself fuzzily. Macauley. His hand began sliding up one thigh, across her stomach and down the other. Long, soothing strokes. But there was nothing soothing in the wake of fire left in his path.
Her hand went to the waistband of his trunks, and one finger dipped inside. Stroking his belly with that one finger, she asked huskily, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
His eyes were slitted with pleasure. “You do the honors.” Her gaze flew to his, and he knew in that moment that she had never undressed a man before. But before he could berate himself for pushing her, he saw interest light her eyes. She was intrigued by the prospect. He lay back on the towel and watched her.
As fascinating as his invitation had been, Raine didn’t quite know how to go about carrying it out. Her fingers went to the waistband of his trunks and then faltered. She glanced at his face uncertainly. What she saw there was encouraging. His eyes were hooded, his nostrils flared. He was finding pleasure in just watching her undress him. The knowledge gave her courage. Her hands again pulled at his trunks, and this time he lifted his hips to aid her. The action put the long, hard length straining inside the suit just inches from her mouth.
Her lips parted, and she hesitated. Then slowly, she released his throbbing manhood from the material encasing him and pulled the trunks down his muscled legs. He kicked fire of them.
Raine stayed where she was, half bent over him, unable to move. There was something particularly sexy about a man who would lay back and let a woman enjoy his body. He had neatly reversed their positions, and despite her unfamiliarity with the role, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
She caressed his muscled thighs, skirted his straining manhood and stroked his belly. Then her fingers trailed downward again, closer this time, but still avoiding his hard length shyly. He withstood the teasing trail of her fingers for long minutes, feeling himself grow thicker and harder with each pass. Finally he groaned, “Raine.”
Her eyes met his.
“Touch me,” he begged huskily. “C’mon, baby, you’re driving me crazy. Or don’t you want to?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, allowing her fingers to close around his hardness at last. “I do want to.”
A strangled moan was her only answer as she gave in to the temptation of his body and explored him as intimately as he had her the night before. Then she bent her head and whispered her lips against the velvety tip of his manhood in a kiss as light as butterfly wings. Again and again she returned there, until Mac’s flagging control demanded an end to her play.
He snaked an arm around her waist, tumbling her on top of him. Then he captured her mouth in a deep, wet kiss that spoke of his eroding patience. One hand went to her bottom, pressing her more firmly against him, and she squirmed beneath his touch, wanting to be even closer. He stroked a finger between her legs, finding the proof of her readiness in the moist dew at her entrance. She bucked against him at the touch, and his last thought of leisurely lovemaking went up in smoke.
He pulled his mouth away from hers and reached for her beach bag. Dumping the contents, he found one of the foil-wrapped packages he’d tossed in there. She took it from his hand. Their eyes meeting, she opened the packet and moved so that she could put it on him. The action spoke of bone-shattering intimacy, and she knew she was trembling.
He pulled her astride him when she finished, and she blinked at the unfamiliar position. “This time you control it,” he rasped. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You haven’t,” she whispered, even as she experimented with the position. She fitted him to her carefully.
“I could. It doesn’t take much with you to make me lose my head, and I don’t want to be rough with you.” His breath hissed out when he felt her ease down on him slowly. He could feel sweat pop out on his forehead.
She absorbed another inch of him and then another. He could feel her delicate inner muscles pulse in adjustment. When she’d accepted all of him, he heard her gasp at the sensation, and his hands went to her hips. He held her steady as he surged upward, and her gasp became a cry. The rhythm of his thrusts was wildly intoxicating, driving him deeper and deeper within her. Raine gave herself up to the abandoned energy. Her knees clasped his hips tighter and tighter, until the ultimate explosion wrung a cry from her lips. She fell forward, and he lifted within her
one more time. Then the tiny convulsions inside her triggered his own climax, and his hands gripped her hips as he drove upward one last time.
They lay depleted of energy in the aftermath, Raine still sprawled above him. The rush of the surf on the sand and the balmy breeze from the ocean combined with the privacy afforded by the rocks and dunes to create an intimate, private cocoon. Mac finally stirred, turning on his side and slipping out of Raine’s softness. Nothing would have given him more pleasure than to remain buried inside her, sinking into sleep even as they were still joined. But the protection was fast losing its effectiveness, and there was no way he was going to allow himself to put her at risk again.
She made a murmur of protest, but he pulled her close to him and she contented herself by laying her head against his chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
She raised her head slightly to look into those ice blue eyes. They hadn’t changed color, but they weren’t cold now, and they weren’t expressionless. They were filled with concern for her, and a faint glimmer of regret. “You could never hurt me,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his. “Never.”
He remained unconvinced. His eyes held hers and he said deliberately, “I’m afraid I’m going to be too rough, and that you’ll . . .” He swallowed hard and said thickly, “I don’t want anything to remind you of that night. I’d never forgive myself if anything we did triggered those memories for you.”
“The rape was a long time ago,” she said, softly but firmly. “And I’ve come a long way since then. But nothing you could do would ever remind me, Macauley. Nothing.” His concern for her brought an aching tenderness, and she somehow knew that he had given her what he had no other. She wanted to give him something in return. So she gave him the truth. “In my nightmares, I always saw the outline of his shape looming over me. Shadows blending into shadows. But now if I wake from one, I remember the way you looked that first night, bending over me. Your shoulders were broad enough to block out the moonlight, but I wasn’t afraid. Not of you, Macauley. Never of you.”