by Gina Wilkins
His hand grazed her hardened nipple and a gasp escaped her. He lingered there a moment, lightly pressing, tugging, flicking until her breathing was quick and ragged. Only then did he unfasten the top buttons of her pajamas, revealing a swath of skin that immediately drew his attention.
His mouth on the soft skin at the side of her breast, he released the final buttons, spreading the garment so she was bared to him from the waist up. She shivered as a delicious combination of cool air and warm breath caressed her sensitized skin. Still straddling him, she supported herself on her forearms, her head thrown back, her attention divided between the warm, wet feel of his mouth on her breasts and the deep, urgent aching between her legs.
“Before we go any further,” Trent murmured against her breasts, “I’d better tell you that I didn’t come prepared for this. Do you, uh—?”
“In the nightstand drawer,” she informed him, her voice so husky she hardly recognized it. She had packed for all the possibilities she might encounter in this new life of hers, though she hadn’t actually expected to open the box she’d stowed in the drawer. Or at least not so soon. Then again, she’d never dreamed she’d meet a man like Trent McBride.
Trent nodded in satisfaction and took up where he had left off.
Annie had always admired Trent’s hands and the beautiful work he did with them. He proved now that he’d previously shown her only hints of how truly talented those hands could be.
Sliding his fingers inside the elastic band of her pajama bottoms, he pushed them down her thighs. His jeans were rough against her exquisitely tender skin, the ridge beneath his zipper almost painfully hard. She moved again, pressing herself against him, and was delighted to wring a low moan from him. Trent was always so firmly in control of his emotions. She took a great deal of satisfaction in shaking that control a bit—especially since he was totally destroying her own.
By the time they had shed their remaining garments and were tangled naked together in the sheets, Annie couldn’t have spoken a coherent word if she tried. She relied on silent language to express herself, using her hands, her lips and the movements of her body to let him know exactly how special he made her feel. She knew it had been a while since he’d been this close to anyone, but if he had any doubt, any insecurity about making love with her, he certainly didn’t let it show.
She loved kissing him. He had the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen on a man, and she wanted to taste and explore every centimeter of it. He cooperated completely, allowing her total access. She took full advantage of his generosity.
She was absently aware of the few concessions he made for his unreliable back, and she took care not to put any stress on him. The experience was still as spectacular as she had predicted. It wasn’t so much the way he touched her—it was the way she responded that made their lovemaking so unique. She’d never reacted so forcefully to another man’s touch, had never cared so very deeply that his pleasure was as intense as her own. She’d never felt this powerful mixture of hunger, passion and tenderness.
It was who he was that made the difference. Trent McBride, the complex, unpredictable, flawed, but very special man who had stolen her heart so stealthily that she had never had a chance to defend herself. One day he’d been an enigmatic stranger, and the next he had been someone whose welfare mattered desperately to her. At least it seemed to have happened that quickly.
And now, she thought gravely, gazing up at him as he leaned over her, he was her lover. At least for this one night.
“You look so serious,” he murmured, his voice a rough growl. “Second thoughts?”
“None,” she assured him. She had concerns about the future, but no doubt at all that she wanted to stay exactly where she was for now.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he reminded her, though every muscle in his body was taut with need, his eyes glittered with suppressed emotion that seemed near explosion and his arms quivered as they supported his weight above her. Every solid inch of him was ready for release, and he had already sheathed himself in the protection she had provided. But still he hesitated long enough to make sure she wanted him to continue.
This from a man who insisted there was nothing sweet about him, she thought with a tender smile. “I haven’t changed my mind. Please don’t stop now. I couldn’t bear it.”
He didn’t smile in return, but she thought his expression showed relief. He crushed her mouth beneath his and moved against her, teasing her with shallow probes that only stoked her hunger for him. Restlessly, she lifted her hips, silently urging him to take her, but still he held back, offering only a taste of the pleasure to come.
“Now,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his back, trying to press him closer. “Please.”
He taunted her with another too-shallow thrust. “Better?” he murmured, his mouth curved against hers.
She groaned and raised her knees in an effort to force him deeper. “More.”
His hand moved on her thigh, then slid to the inside, his fingertips lightly brushing against skin so tender and sensitized she gasped and quivered. Her fingers curled, her nails pressing into the pliant skin of his back. “Now,” she insisted again.
“Do you want me, Annie?”
It seemed an odd question, particularly now when she was all but begging him, but she answered without hesitation. “Yes. Oh, Trent, yes.”
Maybe he’d only wanted to hear her say the words. Maybe he had needed to hear her say his name. Whatever the reason, her broken whisper made him surge forward, filling her so deeply and completely that for a fleeting moment she wasn’t sure she could handle all of him. But it didn’t take her long to decide that they fit together perfectly.
Trent’s back muscles rippled beneath her palms as he began to move. She sensed when his control broke, when instinct and passion took over. He wasn’t teasing now, and he couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t as lost in passion as she was. His breathing was harsh and uneven in her ears, his skin slick and damp with perspiration. She could only close her eyes and hold on, throwing herself into the whirlwind.
He murmured something against her ear. It might have been her name. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hardly hear over it.
Release came in a burst of sensation so intense it temporarily blocked all her other senses. She heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing—except Trent. And she didn’t care at that moment if she never came back to reality.
A LONG TIME PASSED before Annie was mentally coherent enough to think about what had happened, and to try to analyze her feelings. Only then was she able to pinpoint what had always been missing for her before.
She felt…complete, she mused, lying in Trent’s arms. For the first time in her life she felt as though she was exactly where she belonged. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the possibility that tonight might be the only time she would ever feel this way.
Her stunned paralysis seemed to last a very long time. But eventually she was able to turn her head to study the man in her bed. Trent sprawled heavily beside her, his chest rising and falling with his irregular breathing. He lay flat on his back, one arm beneath her, his other hand resting on his damp chest. He looked comfortable enough, she decided. No apparent repercussions from their exertion. He actually looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him, she thought with a satisfied smile.
“You’re staring at me again,” he murmured without opening his eyes.
Her smile deepened as a happy, mischievous mood took over. “I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty.”
He opened his eyes with a mild curse. “Would you stop saying things like that? Sweet. Pretty. You make me sound like a damn pansy.”
She couldn’t help giggling. It was so typical of Trent to make love to her one minute and snarl at her the next. And for some crazy, inexplicable reason, she simply adored him.
“Trust me, Trent, I have no doubt that you are one-hundred-percent, red-blooded male,” she assured him. “I just like t
o watch you scowl when I use those words.”
“You’re very easily entertained.”
“At times,” she conceded cheerfully. She knew she should be sleepy. Considering all the excitement earlier and the fact that it couldn’t be far from dawn, it was a wonder she was still conscious. And yet she felt wide awake, her nerves still thrumming with excitement.
He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “You should get some sleep,” he said as if he had read her mind.
Nestling more comfortably into her pillow, she was unable to resist reaching out to lay a hand on his chest. “I will. I’m just enjoying the moment.”
He covered her hand with his own. “So am I.”
She wished she could read his thoughts as easily as he seemed to read hers. He looked sated and content—but what else was he feeling? More specifically, how did he feel about her? Did he envision any future for them, or had he not thought any further than the morning?
“What are you thinking now?” he said.
She smiled again and shook her head, knowing she couldn’t tell him where her thoughts had led. “I’m just tired. I suppose you are, too.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
The light dusting of hair on his chest tickled her palm. She shifted so her cheek rested against his shoulder. “I certainly didn’t expect the night to end this way when we parted at the law office.”
A short laugh rumbled against her ear. “I can’t say I did, either.”
“I’m not sorry, Trent.”
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “I hope you won’t be.”
“I won’t,” she promised. No matter what happens next.
He shifted against the pillow.
“Are you uncomfortable?” she asked. “I’m afraid my mattress isn’t as large—or as firm—as yours.”
She had refused to sleep on a used mattress, so she’d bought an inexpensive set from a discount outlet. Trent’s mattress, she knew from changing his sheets, was a much more expensive one, a worthwhile investment considering his back.
As usual, his tone darkened in response to her casual mention of his comfort—or lack of it. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are,” she muttered in exasperation. “And you wouldn’t admit it if you were in agony.”
Equally predictably, he changed the subject. “I haven’t heard the dog whine in a while. I guess he went to sleep.”
“He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?” she asked, thinking of how trustingly the pup had rested his head on her knee. “What breed do you suppose he is?”
“He looks like a cross between a yellow Lab and a pile of dirty clothes.”
Annie laughed and lightly punched his forearm. “Do not make fun of my dog.”
“Can’t help it. He’s such an easy target.”
“Careful. I might just sic him on you.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Without waiting for an answer, he settled her more firmly against him and said, “Go to sleep, Annie.”
Though she wasn’t at all sure she could, she obligingly closed her eyes, allowing herself to savor the warmth of him beside her. The steady, reassuring sound of Trent’s heartbeat lulled her into sleep.
TRENT WAS STUNNED to find himself alone in Annie’s house the next morning. Somehow she had managed to get up, get dressed and leave the house without waking him. She’d left a note for him. “Gone to work,” it read. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I walked Bozo and put him back in the laundry room—I didn’t know where else to keep him today.”
It bothered him that she had somehow done all that without even rousing him. Usually he was a very light sleeper, waking frequently at every strange noise. True, he hadn’t been resting well lately, but he couldn’t believe he’d slept that soundly in Annie’s not-particularly-comfortable bed. The thought of her going off to work early on a Saturday morning after a near-sleepless night, leaving him completely wiped out in her bed, irritated him a great deal.
He spent a few minutes gazing at that bed after reading her note. The hours he’d spent in it had been the best thing that had happened to him in more than a year. Making love with Annie had been an amazing experience—and he was well aware it had nothing to do with the amount of time that had passed since he’d been that close to a woman. It wouldn’t have been like that with anyone else. It was Annie, herself, who’d made the night so special.
The feelings she’d evoked in him both excited and terrified him, leaving him wondering what would happen between them now.
Trying not to think too far ahead, he took a quick, hot shower to loosen his stiff muscles, made use of a disposable pink razor he found in her medicine cabinet, then donned the same wrinkled clothes he’d thrown on last night when Annie called. The least he could do, he thought grimly, was to take care of her dog today while she worked.
After a quick trip to the hardware store for supplies, he spent the rest of the morning building a pen in Annie’s backyard. Ideally the whole yard would be fenced to give the dog room to run free, but this would have to do until she could make other arrangements. Bozo seemed happy enough with his new accommodations, especially after Trent set out bowls of water and the dry dog food he’d purchased.
Bozo was a good-natured mutt. He’d probably be a good companion for Annie, even if Trent doubted he’d ever make much of a guard dog.
Maybe he’d build a doghouse this evening, he thought, rubbing Bozo’s ears. The goofy animal nearly beat himself silly with his overlong tail. “You really are a clown, aren’t you?” Trent murmured, and the dog yipped happily in agreement.
Trent straightened, pressing one hand to his back, and looked toward the house. He supposed he should be going before Annie got back, whenever that might be. He’d deliberately kept himself too busy to think much about last night, but now that he’d finished the pen, his mind was suddenly filled with images and remembered sensations.
He understood now why he had tried so hard to resist his attraction to Annie. Somehow he had known from the beginning that there could be no easy, casual, undefined involvement with her. Somehow he’d sensed that Annie wouldn’t just invade his life, she would change it—and the prospect of another change unnerved him.
Bending at the knees, he picked up the metal tool-box he always carried in the cab of his truck. A catch in his back made him wince and straighten carefully, aware that he had made too many demands on it in the past few hours. He could do the work he had chosen, he assured himself, but he was always going to have to be aware of his limitations.
He thought of Annie scrubbing floors and changing beds, hauling around her supplies and her vacuum cleaner and who knew what else, and his gut tightened. She deserved better, he thought bitterly—in a lot of ways.
10
ANNIE WAS DISAPPOINTED, but hardly surprised, to find Trent gone when she returned home late that afternoon. But she was delighted with the dog pen he’d built; as usual, he’d done excellent work. And she saw that he’d bought dog food. She set the bag she had purchased beside it, along with the bone-shaped biscuits, a leash and collar for taking walks, and a couple of doggie toys she thought the animal might enjoy.
She had stopped by the newspaper office to place a notice that she’d found him, but her instincts told her that Bozo was a stray, one of the many dogs abandoned on rural roads every day. Perhaps someone had thought him too big or too homely. Maybe someone had preferred purebred dogs over mixed-heritage mutts. Or maybe he’d just been an expensive inconvenience.
Annie couldn’t imagine anyone simply dumping an animal to fend for itself. It had always troubled her to read about the thousands of animals crowding shelters and dying on highways because owners were too selfish to provide secure homes for them.
She had always wanted a dog, she mused, kneeling to pet the happy mutt, but her father had never allowed animals in the house. Too much trouble, he had declared. Too destructive. And besides, he was allergic. Well,
Annie had her own home now and if she wanted a dog, she could have one. And she would take very good care of it.
Promising Bozo she would be back soon, she went inside to find something to eat, having skipped lunch to shop for pet supplies. It was so quiet in her house. It would have been nice if someone—specifically, Trent—had been there to talk to.
Remembering the way he’d looked when she’d left him this morning, sprawled with such unconsciously sexy masculinity across her white sheets, she sighed with a wave of pure lust. She would have liked to see him again tonight, though he’d given her no reason to expect to.
As she prepared a quick meal-for-one, she warned herself not to hope for too much from Trent. He’d made no commitment to her last night. For all she knew, he had merely taken advantage of a convenient opportunity. A one-night fling, she added with a hollow feeling deep inside her. She had no reason to expect anything more.
Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself from wishing it had been something more.
THE HOURS PASSED and she was beginning to think Trent wasn’t even going to call when the phone finally rang at almost 10:00 p.m. Somewhat nervously, she answered. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
“I was beginning to wonder if I was going to hear from you today,” she said.
“Sorry I’ve called so late. I’ve been busy making more of those little rockers like the one I made for Abbie. The mothers of some of her friends saw hers and now everyone seems to want one. I wasn’t interested at first, so I named a price that I thought no one would want to pay, but I had five orders within a week. Go figure.”
Annie was pleased. “I’m not surprised. Abbie’s chair is absolutely beautiful. Of course people expect to pay a high price for that sort of workmanship.”