Strong arms came around her from behind, and she yelped. The quilt and flashlight plopped to the ground.
“How come you didn’t come over to the front of the barn, where you said you’d be?” Quinn murmured in her ear as he pulled her hard against him.
“Because you were late!” she whispered hoarsely, her heart going like crazy. “I decided to wait here until you managed to get yourself out of the bunkhouse!”
“I wasn’t late.” He nibbled her earlobe as he held her tight and began unsnapping her slicker with one hand.
“Were so.” Even through the slicker she could feel his erection pressing against her, rock hard and ready.
“Was not. I stayed in the shadows so there was no chance Fred would see me. I watched you coming toward me and decided I’d wait until you got right to the door of the barn before I showed myself, in case anyone was watching.” His teeth raked the lobe of her ear as he slipped his hand inside her slicker. “Except for some reason you changed your mind and decided to hide under this tree. So I had to come and get you.”
She gasped as he reached under the silk chemise and cupped her breast. Cool air touched her skin through the open slicker. She should suggest they go into the barn, but his hand felt so good she didn’t want to move just yet. In a minute they could move. He kneaded her breast with his strong fingers. In another minute. “I…met Fred coming in the house as I went out,” she said.
Quinn’s breath was warm against her ear, his voice husky and deep. “And what did you tell him?” He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her nipple until the ache inside her became almost unbearable. Perhaps it was knowing that they would finally make love tonight that had touched some basic chord, making her vibrate so she could barely stand.
“I told him I was…oh, Quinn, I can’t think when you do that.”
“That’s okay.” He continued to knead her breast while he slid his other hand beneath the elastic of her boxers. His words rasped in the darkness. “I don’t really care what you told Fred.” Boldly he tunneled his fingers through her moist curls. “I just—” He caught his breath as he probed deeper.
She moaned and leaned back in his arms.
“Ah, Jo.” He caressed her with a gentle, rhythmic motion that soon had her quivering. “You’re drenched, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Why did you hide from me?”
This was crazy, she thought, letting him touch her this way with only the darkness to conceal them. But for the life of her she couldn’t ask him to stop.
He kissed her neck, then nipped playfully as he slowed his strokes, drawing out the exquisite pleasure. “Why, Jo?”
She could barely breathe as she reached for the summit. Almost there. Just a little more. “Playing it…cool.”
“Oh.”
She could feel his smile against her skin as he paused, his finger lightly touching her throbbing flash point. She thought she’d go crazy. “But I’m not cool,” she said, her words a breathless plea.
“No?”
She trembled on the brink of ecstasy. “Quinn, have mercy. Do something.”
“Like this?” He pushed deep and pressed down on that aching, needy spot with the heel of his hand.
Her world came apart, and the rest of the world would have known all about it if he hadn’t taken his other hand from her breast and gently covered her mouth, muffling her cry of release. She arched in his arms as the quakes took hold of her. She felt tumbled about like a pebble in the rapids of a stream, and through it all Quinn held her, supported her, whispered sweetly in her ear.
At last she shuddered and was still, drooping in his arms as she gasped for breath. “Wow.”
“Good?” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Oh, yeah.”
He eased his hand out of her boxers and slowly turned her to face him, holding her firmly by her shoulders as if he realized without his strong grip she’d fall flat on the ground. “I’m glad.”
She gazed at him. “I feel as if I’ve had too much to drink.”
“I know the feeling. I’m pretty high myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re still standing. You may have to carry me to the barn.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m not sure I can walk that far.” He guided her a couple of steps backward until she felt the trunk of the oak against her back. “Let’s rest a minute before we decide.” He took off his Stetson, hung it on a nearby twig and leaned down and covered her mouth with his.
She didn’t find his kiss at all restful. One thrust of his tongue and the ache began to build again as if he hadn’t just given her the most dramatic climax of her life. She’d never experienced lovemaking like this. There seemed to be no quenching the fire inside. When she thought it had burned itself out, Quinn breathed the embers to life again.
His hands found their way under her chemise, cupping her breasts, coaxing her nipples to quivering tautness. Then he lifted his mouth from hers, pushed the chemise up and leaned down to draw one nipple into his mouth. Without the tree’s support she would have definitely crumpled to the hard ground as he lavished her breasts with attention.
She was guilty of pulling the chemise higher, so it wouldn’t flutter down and get in his way. And she arched her back to make it easier for him to do all those marvelous things with his mouth and tongue that she remembered from their session on the couch.
“Oh, Quinn, I want you so much,” she cried softly.
“Undo my jeans,” he murmured against her tongue-dampened breasts.
“Here?”
“Right here, sweetheart. I need your hands on me in the worst way.”
She gasped as he resumed fondling her. “Then you’ll have to stop…doing that.”
She wondered if he’d heard her, but he must have, because eventually he kissed his way to her throat and nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear as he continued to stroke her breasts.
“And that,” she said breathlessly.
“What can I do?” He squeezed her breasts gently. “I want to touch you. I need to touch you.”
She moaned with pleasure. “But I can’t concentrate when you touch me. So stop. Just stand there.”
With a husky sigh he drew back and braced his hands on the tree’s two main branches.
Taking a long, shaky breath, she leaned forward and un-fastened his belt with trembling hands. As she started to ease the zipper over his rigid shaft, she looked into his shadowed face, her heart pounding with anticipation. “You’re sure you want me…to do this here?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But—”
His voice was tight with desire. “No one can see. I wouldn’t have known you were under this tree if I hadn’t watched you slip back here. And I’ll never make it to the barn, Jo. I’d wreck myself trying.”
She unzipped his jeans carefully. His harsh breathing drowned out the crickets as she followed his lead and slid her hand beneath the elastic of his briefs. Her hand closed around enough warm, rigid male to make any woman very happy. Her body reacted with an intense, hollow ache and a rush of moisture.
She caressed him and he groaned, but it was muffled, as if he’d clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. That low, desperate sound made her heady with her own power to please. And the quilt was almost within reach. “Stay here.”
“I couldn’t move if you shoved a stick of dynamite up my—”
“I’ll be right back.” She released him, ducked under his arm, grabbed the folded quilt and dropped it at his feet. “There.”
“What are you doing?”
“This.” She knelt on the quilt and wrapped her fingers around his sizable erection once again. Damn, he was impressive. And he was all hers. When she took him into her mouth, a massive shudder went through him.
“Jo…I didn’t mean…that you…oh, Lord.” He began to quiver.
She lifted her head and gazed at him while she stroked his sensitive tip with her thumb. “Want me to stop?” She barely recognized her voice, which had become throaty and se
ductive.
He struggled for breath. “No.”
“Good.” She replaced her thumb with her tongue. The more she loved him, the more insistently her body demanded his presence deep inside her. She’d never felt this way, as if the world wouldn’t make sense anymore unless she received that elemental connection with this particular man. Only with this man.
Quinn gasped and trembled. “Jo. Jo, stop now. Please.”
She took her time about releasing him and gave him one last sensuous stroke before rising to her feet. “I need you now,” she said, her voice thick with longing. “Right here, right now. On the quilt, in the dirt, I don’t care. Now, Quinn.”
His laugh was shaky. “I hate it when you’re indecisive. Get off the quilt a minute.”
She stepped aside, and he picked up the quilt. She thought he’d spread it on the ground and pull her down with him, but instead he kept it folded and settled it into the crotch of the tree. Excitement rose in her, hot and wild.
He turned to her and guided her close to the tree. Then he slipped his thumbs under the elastic of her silk boxers. “I like these,” he murmured, tugging them down. “But they gotta go.”
Impatient and aching, she started to help him.
He pushed her hands away. “Oh, no. My job.”
He went to his knees in front of her as he pulled the boxers down. He kissed her navel, flicking his tongue inside the indentation. Need shot through her, and she cried out.
“Shh,” he whispered, drawing her boxers over her knees as he kissed her damp curls.
She could barely breathe from the pressure of wanting him, yet he was moving at a snail’s pace. “Are you…going to make a big…production out of taking those off?” she asked.
“Yep.” Steadying her with one hand, he grasped her ankle and lifted, so that she stepped out of one leg of the boxers. Then, before she quite realized his purpose, he’d cupped her behind and tilted her pelvis so that he could give her a very intimate kiss indeed.
She gasped, and her knees buckled as pleasure surged through her. She felt the quilt brush the small of her back. Trembling, she leaned weakly against the padded crotch of the tree as he had his way with her. She was helpless against the onslaught of his tongue as he urged her pulsing, tightening body to enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.
Gripping the rough branch arching beside her, she pressed the back of her other hand to her mouth as the explosion came, rocking her against the tree. Her muffled cry sounded like the keening of a wild creature—the wild creature he had set loose within her.
And she wanted him still. Even as the shock waves continued, she wanted him. She took her hand from her mouth. Her plea was choked with emotion, but he couldn’t possibly mistake what she needed.
He didn’t.
He eased her gently against the tree and steadied her with one hand as he reached in his pocket. She made a real effort and managed to stay upright when he released her so he could put on the condom. Slipping it over his erection, he made a noise low in his throat, as if even that contact challenged his control.
Then he was back, his hands under her bottom, lifting her to the wide crotch of the tree, holding her there. She braced her hands against the outstretched branches, leaned into the cradle of his cupped hands and opened her thighs.
With her slicker draped protectively around them, he stepped closer and probed gently, his breathing ragged. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
She moaned in frustration. “I want all of you, Quinn. Every last rigid inch.”
He eased inside a little more. “Okay?”
Oh, he was big, but she wanted big. She wanted to be filled, at long last, with everything this man had to offer. She panted with need. “Not enough.”
He pushed slightly deeper.
“More,” she whispered.
He gave her a fraction more, but he was obviously holding back, obviously had a hangup about being too big.
“Oh, Quinn.” In one swift motion she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in tight. “Oh, Quinn.”
Apparently he couldn’t control his growl of satisfaction, but then he went right back to being the soul of concern, although his voice was a little rough around the edges. “I’m hurting you.”
“That was not hurt you heard in my voice,” she said breathlessly. “That was heaven. My body is singing, Quinn, singing the praises of your big beautiful—”
“Okay. I get it.” He covered her mouth with his.
His kiss might be all it would take, she thought, her heart pounding as he explored thoroughly with his tongue while still locked against her. He might not have to move that astounding equipment at all, since it filled her so totally, making contact in all the right places.
Then he began to move, and she decided moving might be a good thing. Moving might be a great thing. Moving might be a really spectacular thing.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Ah, Jo. I’ve never…this is so good.”
“So very good.” She absorbed another soul-filling moment as he buried himself deep, eased back and pushed home again.
“As if this is what we’re meant for.” He nibbled at her lower lip.
“Oh, yes.” She welcomed another thrust, treasuring each and every one.
“We fit.” He kissed her chin, the hollow of her throat, all the while holding her steady as he eased his hips back and forth, bringing her joy with every stroke.
“Like a sword in a sheath.” The quickening that had started with the first glorious full contact had intensified with each rhythmic motion. She wanted it to last forever, but knew they had only seconds to go, knew from the subtle way Quinn increased the pace, the slight change in his breathing.
Faster still. Exquisite friction. So right. There. Yes. Now. Quinn. Oh, Quinn. Love me. Love me, love me, love me.
He kissed her hard, forcing the cry into her throat, smothering the groan rumbling from his chest. Holding her tight and deeply impaled, he absorbed her convulsions and drank her whimpers of delight until his own release gripped him.
For the first time in her life, she felt the joy of another’s climax as if it were her own. And as he shuddered helplessly in her arms, gasping her name, she knew that no matter how much heartbreak it brought her, she would never regret this night of loving Quinn.
13
QUINN had decided to make love this way because he’d figured that lying on the ground was just asking for interference from snakes and bugs. However, the experience had turned out to be much better than he could have imagined. He’d go so far as to say he’d never known anything to equal making love propped against an oak tree on a chilly spring night in Montana.
With Jo, he quickly added. Jo, the most perfect sexual partner he’d ever known. The funniest, sweetest, sexiest woman he’d ever known. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her hair. Gathering her close, he savored the recent ecstasy of being enclosed by her warmth.
If this wasn’t love, then he didn’t understand what love was all about. He not only wanted to spend the rest of the night with her, he wanted to spend days, months, years with her. “Maybe I could dye my hair blond,” he murmured, nestling her head against his shoulder.
“What?” She roused herself and stared at him. “Quinn, you make love like no man I’ve ever known, but your after-the-loving conversation needs work. This is not the time to discuss hair treatments.”
He chuckled, and as he gazed at her he felt as if someone had poured warm melted butter over his heart. Yeah, he probably loved her, loved her strong enough to last clear into doddering old age. “Or I could shave my head. That’s popular these days.”
“I’m not wild about that look, if you’re really determined to discuss this now. And blond won’t go with your skin tones as well as dark brown does. What’s this about?”
“I’m trying to figure out how I could sneak back to see you again after I leave town. I think the blond hair would work. And maybe a mustache and glasses.”
She cupped his face in both hands. �
�Let’s just tell everybody you’re not Hastings.”
“No. I can’t let you do that.”
“Well, I can’t let you dye your hair. Your friends and clients would wonder what on earth was going on. I don’t want to be responsible for making you look dumb in front of everybody. Let’s tell.”
“No. I’ll dye my hair.”
“No.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “I love it this color. That’s partly what makes your eyes look so incredibly blue—your skin is a nice bronze color.” Her voice grew soft and wispy. “The contrast is wonderful,” she murmured, drawing him down to her waiting lips.
Incredibly he began to get hard again. He deepened the kiss and kneaded Jo’s firm bottom, just to see where that would take him. Sure enough, it took him right back to where he’d been when he’d first lifted her to the perfect level for this activity. Maybe it was the wildness of making love to a woman sitting in the crotch of a tree that was causing him to feel randy as a seventeen-year-old who’d just lost his virginity. Or maybe it was simply Jo, the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her.
And judging from the way her breathing had changed and the hungry way she opened her mouth to his kiss, she also wanted him again, and that was another small miracle. Heart soaring, he gave thanks for his foresight and prepared to enter paradise a second time. How he loved the supple feel of her muscles beneath his palms as she moved in response to his thrusts.
He longed to see her face, but even though he lifted his head to gaze at her, the shadows were too deep. “I wish I could look into your eyes,” he murmured, his voice already rough and trembling, his climax hovering near.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He heard the quiver in her voice and knew she was on the edge, too. How quickly they could excite each other. Like lightning.
With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet Page 14