by Iris Morland
And on her bed was her suitcase, packed and ready to go. She let out a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding. I don't want to leave, she thought. How can I leave him?
She didn't know how it had happened, but they'd forged a connection already. She didn't know if it was lust or something deeper, but she couldn't deny that the connection existed.
Yes, he frustrated her and he seemed incapable of keeping his foot out of his mouth. But what if she didn't run away when things got difficult? If she saw this through?
She covered her mouth when a laugh almost burst through. See what through? she thought wildly. This fake relationship that has been nothing but confusing from the beginning?
When she woke up the following morning, she waited to hear Mark's footsteps. He usually got up with the dawn, and right on cue, she heard his boots against the wooden floor.
She got out of bed before she lost her nerve. Putting on her robe, she followed after him.
"Mark."
He turned, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Abby?"
She tried not to think about how her hair was probably a rat's nest, or that Mark looked at her like she'd lost her mind.
She realized then that she didn't know how to explain why she wanted to stay when she'd already told him she was leaving. She couldn't very well say, I heard you talking to your horse last night, hope you don't mind.
He cleared his throat. "I should get to work, unless you need help packing?"
"No, I don't want your help. Not with packing—because I'm not leaving."
He stared at her.
Feeling a blush climbing up her face, she scrambled for a reason. "I'm not leaving because you still need to show me how to ride a horse. So I'm holding you to that promise. Got it?"
The poor man looked like a tractor had run over him.
"What?"
"You heard me. I have to get to work, but I'll see you later."
She barely bit back a smile as she bustled past him into the kitchen.
Mark glanced over his shoulder at Abby. She rode Rosemary at a sedate pace while he rode Samson. Despite her initial trepidation, Abby had embraced horseback riding. In fact, she looked like she was enjoying herself.
Rosemary was an easy ride and didn't mind novices. Unlike Samson, who had the attention span of a gnat, Rosemary tended to plod along on one path and never detour. Mark kept an eye out for snakes, holding Samson’s reins more tightly than usual.
He still couldn't believe Abby had stayed, and because she'd wanted to learn horseback riding. What kind of a reason was that? Maybe he'd finally driven her to the brink of insanity.
But she didn't look insane as she leaned over to pet Rosemary's mane. And he didn't imagine the way her eyes gleamed whenever they made eye contact.
He looked off into the horizon. Was she here because she wanted to stay with him? It seemed too good to be true. And yet, what other explanation could there be?
His chest clenched, and he squeezed Samson's flanks hard enough that the horse danced in surprise. He soothed the gelding, forcing himself not to transfer his anxiety to the animal. He didn't need Samson throwing him a second time.
Mark focused on the landscape instead. The leaves were all brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows, and the smell of autumn filled the air. He inhaled, finding that the scent centered him. Leaves crunched under the horses' hooves with each step. Before long, the trees would shed their leaves entirely, and they would enter the rainy season.
And by then, Abby would be long gone.
Abby rode up next to him. She was a fast learner, he had to give her that. They didn't say anything as they rode their horses further westward, going along one of Mark's favorite trails. This path could get rather steep, but it was also wide enough that he knew Rosemary could traverse it without difficulty.
"It's beautiful out here," Abby said as she looked at the trees and foliage. "You're lucky to have this."
"I know," was all he said, because he knew it was true. This ranch was everything to him. It had provided a safe haven when the world had seemed to abandon him.
"I thought I'd take you to one of my favorite sights," he said. "It's only about a half mile more this way."
"And then you'll finally toss me off a cliff and be done with me?"
He swiveled toward her, only to see her smiling. He let out a breath.
"I was teasing," she said with a laugh. "Do people never tease you?"
"Only my brothers, if they're being stupid."
That made her smile widen, and she laughed.
But her words lightened his heart. When was the last time a beautiful woman had teased him? Too long.
And Abby was beautiful, especially today. Sunshine glittered in her hair, creating molten streaks of gold within her hair's earthy brown. Freckles had come forth on her face, and she looked rosy. The peak of health. And she also wore the tightest pair of jeans he'd ever seen, which didn't help him with his self-control.
They didn't say anything else until they reached the spot, which overlooked a huge gorge, now covered in trees sporting autumnal leaves. It was all gold and ruby, so gorgeous that it never failed to take his breath away.
"Wow," Abby breathed. "No wonder you love this."
He dismounted before helping her down, leading the horses to graze under a nearby tree. Dismounting with one hand proved tricky, but he managed to avoid falling on his face, thank God. He then pulled out a blanket from his saddlebag and unfolded it.
"You planned this," she said in surprise. "Did you bring a picnic basket, too?"
His lips twitched. "No, but only because it wouldn't fit inside my saddlebag."
She laughed again and sat down next to him. About a foot of space kept them apart, but Mark took that opportunity to study her. To look at the woman who'd agreed to stay with him, even when she knew she could leave. This woman who had endured his foot-in-mouth syndrome with the utmost grace.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked.
He nodded, nonplussed.
"I still don't understand you at all." Her words weren't harsh but curious.
He almost laughed. He didn't understand himself most days. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, I can't figure out if you hate me or not." At his look, she bit back a smile. "Oh come on, you know what I mean. One second you're saying I'm a mousy nurse, the next you're telling me I have to stay with you. Either you're a sadist or there's something else going on here."
He clenched his fingers in the blanket. Her mood seemed playful, but he could feel the barbs under her words, too.
"If you think there isn't anything going on here," he said in a gruff voice, "then you're not as observant as I thought."
That got a reaction: her cheeks turned red, and she looked away. He waited for her to say something else, and he realized with a grimace that he was going to have to be the one to speak first.
"I'm sorry for what I said that day in The Rise and Shine. About you being—well, you know. I didn't mean it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then why say it at all?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Because my brothers were messing with me, and I wanted them to stop. I didn't expect you to hear what I said."
"That seems to be a running theme for my life lately."
He huffed out a laugh. "It was a shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry." Catching her gaze again, he murmured, "You're not mousy, Abby. You're—everything."
The blush of before increased, but this time, he knew it was from pleasure. Smiling, she plucked at a stray thread on the blanket, suddenly shy.
"I'm sorry, too. For how I responded. I shouldn't have called you an ass."
"I was one, though."
She wrinkled her nose. "True. You were."
He growled, and when she let out a peal of laughter, he didn't think about what he did next. He pulled her close with his good arm, and when she pressed against him, he felt the earth tilt on its axis. She was a warm bundle of curves, all womanly and soft. He cupped h
er cheek.
Then he kissed her.
He didn't care that he'd told her he'd leave her alone, or that this relationship of theirs was nothing but a sham. The taste of her, the sound of her moan? Those were all real. And his cock pulsing with need was all too real as well.
He licked at her mouth, murmuring at her to open, and she did, letting their tongues touch. He explored her, and she did the same, sending his pulse into overdrive. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, either. He could only feel Abby and how she clutched at his shirt.
But then she pulled away and looked up at him with a wide-eyed gaze. "What are we doing?" she breathed.
He shook his head. "Does it matter?"
He waited for her response. Her mind seemed to be working out some conundrum, the wheels turning. Finally, she shook her head.
"No, it doesn't. Just don't stop kissing me."
Abby was afraid her heart would burst from her chest right then and there. When Mark laid her down on the blanket, his body shielding her from the outside world, she arched under him. She needed him to touch her everywhere. She was about to come out of her skin for wanting him.
But then he swore under his breath, making her eyes widen.
He looked at his broken arm apologetically as he sat up again. "I forgot about this," he said.
She smiled and before he could react, she climbed into his lap, hooking her arms around his neck.
"How about this?" she whispered, their noses brushing.
"Perfect."
His breath was hot, and she was close enough that she could see how his lashes curled, dark and dusky. She kissed him, and he groaned her name.
He tasted like the coffee he'd drunk earlier, and his stubble scraped against her chin with each movement of their mouths. Her skin prickled. She wished she could get out of her clothes, because they felt too tight. Too constraining.
Mark's hand smoothed down her back until he reached the hem of her shirt. Shyness filled her, and she wished she'd worn sexier underwear. She wished she were skinner, and tanner, and everything she was not. He seemed to sense her wariness because he stroked her back in soothing motions.
As he traced lazy circles on her spine, she opened her eyes to see him looking at her.
"I love your eyes," she said, because it was true. She'd thought they were like the darkest of forests, a deep evergreen, and she was right. She'd never seen eyes that color.
His lips quirked upward. "They're just green."
She wanted to explain that they weren't just green, but words failed her. Instead, she danced her fingers along his brow and down his cheeks, then along his upper lip. She'd never touched a man like this—not even Derek. This somehow felt unbearably intimate in comparison.
He kissed her fingertips, making her smile. When he tugged at her shirt, she didn't let self-consciousness take over again. She stripped out of her shirt and watched for his reaction. If he were disappointed, it would tell her what she needed to know.
But his reaction wasn't disappointment: it was all fire. His eyes shone, his pupils expanded, and he drank her in for so long that she could feel a flush blooming on her chest.
He used his one hand to pull down one bra strap, then the other. Her heart pounded. When he moved to the clasp next to her sternum, though, she brushed his hand away with a coy smile.
That made him laugh. "I would've figured it out," he said.
"But I'm not feeling that patient."
After letting her bra drop to the ground, she found herself unable to look him in the eye. Her nipples tightened, though, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath.
He touched her breast finally, his fingers glancing over her nipple.
"Come closer," he said.
She moved further into his lap, and she couldn't stop herself from gasping when she felt his hardness press against her. When she wiggled a little, he grunted and forced her to stay still.
He touched and kissed her with a gentleness that made her want to both cry and demand that he go faster, harder. She wanted to dig her nails into his shoulders, shout his name to the sky. She wanted him to mark her and to claim her, make her forget her own name.
But Mark touched her like she was a treasure, and her heart twisted into knots when he kissed her right over that fluttering organ.
He moved her arm so he could lick her nipple, his hand playing with her other breast. Her body burst into flames from those touches.
When she arched and begged and moaned for him to make this ache inside her end, he kissed her mouth, hushing her cries. She wrapped her arms around him like a vine.
"What do you need, Abby?" he breathed against her mouth. "Where do you want me to touch you?"
She'd never had a man ask that, and his focus on her once again made her heart burst with sheer emotion. How had she already fallen for this man? This brusque, mysterious rancher? But despite his rough exterior, she knew he was a man worth knowing.
And perhaps, a man even worth loving.
Her breath caught. Anxiety fluttered inside her, and she pushed away the thought. I can't fall in love with him. I can't.
"Abby," he said again. "Abby, Abby, Abby."
She moved off of his lap and, as he watched, she unbuttoned her jeans. His eyes narrowed, a slight flush reddening his cheeks.
She couldn't say the words, but she could show him. Climbing into his lap again, she took his hand and placed it where heat had pooled and where she ached for him.
His nostrils flared. Without another word, he kissed her and pushed his fingers inside her panties, cupping her sex with his palm.
Abby held onto him as he parted her, dipping and petting, his touches once again too light. She tried to rub against him, but he laughed.
"Where do you want me to touch you?" His voice rumbled through her body.
Trembling, she tried to find the words. It was like her brain had floated away from her body, and she was only sensation.
"Higher." She closed her eyes. Her breath hitched when his fingers moved upward. "Yes, God, yes. Right there."
"Someday I'm going to look at you here, all pink and wet and desperate for me. How this little nub" —and he rubbed her on that spot right then, which made her gasp— "grows more swollen as I part your folds. As I lick you, from here to here." He moved his index finger from her clit to swirl around her entrance.
Abby bit her lip. The pleasure was too great. She was going to die, and she wouldn't even care. When Mark began to rub her clit, pushing a finger inside her, she moaned until she was sure the entire forest could hear her.
He kissed her throat, then nipped at her. Sucking the skin near her shoulder, he rubbed her with relentless strokes as she gasped. Higher, higher, higher, she climbed and climbed and then—she fell.
Shaking and moaning, she felt Mark's arm go around her waist, and he held her close. He kissed her again. Her mind was hazy with lust and fulfillment, her heart bursting from her rib cage.
Abby didn't know what time it was when she finally came back to herself. They were lying on the blanket, Mark watching her with a hooded gaze. She didn't care that she was topless or that her hair was a snarled mess. Moving closer until their bodies pressed against each other, Abby gave him a sweet kiss.
His eyes softened. Stroking her hair, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but then she saw the minuscule shake of his head.
"We should get back," he said finally.
Back to what? she couldn't help but wonder.
9
"Abby! Oh my God, how are you?" Megan Flannigan said, rushing to greet Abby. On her lunch break, Abby had driven over to have a quick chat with her good friend at her bakery, The Rise and Shine.
Abby returned the embrace. "I'm good. How about you? How's this place doing?"
Megan waved away her question. "There's no way we're talking about my bakery when you need to tell me everything. Yes, everything." Megan looked over her shoulder and said, "Jubilee, will you take over for a bit? I'll be in the back with
Abby."
Jubilee gave her boss a thumbs-up before helping the next customer.
Megan had texted Abby on Sunday night, demanding that Abby tell her all the details about her relationship with Mark.
Abby couldn't help but notice how happy Megan looked, her eyes shining. After a tumultuous few years, Megan and Caleb Thornton had finally admitted how much they loved each other. Abby envied her the assurance that Caleb adored her as much as she adored him.
Once they got to Megan's office and shut the door, Megan was bursting with excitement.
"Okay, now you have to give me all of the details. When I heard from Sara that you were dating Mark Thornton, I just about lost my mind."
Sara was Megan's older sister, and the two siblings told each other everything.
Abby tried not to blush, only because she couldn't help but think about how Mark had kissed her yesterday afternoon, and how she'd cried out his name, and how she'd dreamt of him touching her again that night...
"Where did Sara hear it from?" Abby asked instead.
"Somebody from her school mentioned it." Megan smiled. "You know how the grapevine is around here. Nobody can keep a secret. But that doesn't matter, because now you're living with Mark? How did that happen?"
Abby debated whether she should confess all, but the weight of her secret was too much to continue to bear alone. She sighed and said, "We aren't really dating."
Megan blinked. "What?"
Abby explained everything: lying to her mom, Mark overhearing Abby and giving her an ultimatum, and moving to his ranch until his arm healed. Megan's eyes got wider and wider as the story progressed. Abby skipped over the kissing, though. She wasn't about to give Megan that level of detail.
But Megan was astute, and she narrowed her eyes at Abby when she finished. "You like him, don't you?"
Abby wanted to deny it. She wanted to shake her head and laugh at the suggestion, but she couldn't. All she could do was bury her face in her hands and moan.
Megan patted her on the shoulder. "Yes, that's generally every woman's reaction when they start to fall for a Thornton brother. You're not alone."