Call Me Wild (11 page)

“I don’t know—someone girly. You know, big breasts, stick legs, not a lot of muscle.”

The pulse point on the side of her neck thrummed beneath his lips as his hand slid over her breast, her nipple pebbling beneath his palm. “Your breasts are perfect, and you’re sexy as hell—beautiful and strong. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Your body is spectacular. It would be great if you’d let me keep my dignity once in a while when we’re running, but that’s just my male ego talking.”

His mouth captured her breast, making it impossible for him to talk. He sure as hell hoped she was better at reading body language, because that was all she was going to get for a good long while. He wasn’t coming up for air again, until he did every one of the things he’d dreamt about, even if it killed him. And it just might.

***

Oh God, Jessie had thought she was in trouble when it looked like he was rejecting her. But then, she was more mad than hurt, though hurt would have come later. What he did now was worse than she’d ever imagined. It made his possible rejection look like child’s play.

Fisher worshiped her body—something that never had happened to her before. What was she supposed to do? He held her like she was a precious artifact, stroking and kissing and teasing. Drawing her up so tight, she’d swear she was going to implode, and then soothing her with his lips and tongue as if they had all night to touch and explore.

Every time she made a move to return the favor, he gently, but firmly, put her in her place, which was flat on her back. Finally, he held her hands above her head and stared into her eyes. His were dilated, dark, and so intense. “Just hold onto the headboard until I say so. Okay, darlin’?”

She was too dumbfounded to even answer, plus he picked just that moment to slip a finger inside her. Her body shook, and she keened like a wild animal, bucking against him. He pressed his thumb against her, and it was as good as flipping a switch. Her orgasm crashed through her, rolling like an earthquake, shocking her with its intensity and strength. She threw her arm over her eyes. God, it had been a year since she’d had sex… maybe longer. She didn’t exactly write it on her calendar. It hadn’t been that memorable.

His touch soothed, as she rearranged the shattered sections of her brain, tried to control her breathing, and released the death grip she’d had on his hand. She was just about to roll onto her side to either thank him or apologize—she hadn’t decided which should come first—when he slipped between her legs. She opened her eyes and expected to see him hovering over her. Wrong. He wasn’t above her at all.

He was down there, and… “Oh God, yes.” What he was doing with his tongue, teeth, and hands was probably illegal in several states. He drove her back up so fast, she was glad she had the headboard to hold on to. “Fisher?”

He mumbled something, and the vibrations from his mouth, his voice—whatever it was—sent her flying.

She called out his name as he entered her in one swift thrust, filling her completely and triggering her orgasm, which rolled into another and shot her onto a plane she’d never visited, no less knew existed. Nothing in her experience had ever come close to this. She wrapped her shaking legs around his hips and dragged him closer as wave after wave rolled through her… through him.

“Jessica, you feel amazing.” He kissed her softly as her body relaxed. She seemed to have lost the ability to move. Her arms slid from around him, and if her ankles weren’t hooked around him, they’d be history too. She felt like a lump of clay—heavy and inanimate.

Fisher stared into her eyes as he rocked within her, slowly, gently, and with such tenderness, she had to look away.

Her mind raced trying to figure out how to please him when she was incapable of movement. But Fisher seemed to have the magic touch, and before she knew it, her fingers were sinking into his back, her heels digging into his butt.

No matter how much she demanded, he teased her with his slow, steady pace, just fast enough to have her on edge, but not hard or quick enough to throw her over.

He had her riding the sharp edge of madness, her heart pounding so hard she’d swear she was bruising something. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she tilted her pelvis, clenched every muscle, and pulled him deep.

Fisher groaned, his face contorted with pleasure or pain, she wasn’t sure, and then he went wild, pistoning his hips, pounding her, hard, deep, and so damn good, she swore she saw stars. His whole body tensed, and he let out a pretty inventive string of curses before thrusting three more times and collapsing on top of her.

Jessie was in serious trouble. She covered her eyes again and did her best not to cry. She was scared, confused, and she couldn’t think of a nice way to distance herself from Fisher long enough to pull herself together. He was lying on top of her, with his face in the crook of her neck.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, even though she was sure she’d lost her mind. She hadn’t cried in years, and she had absolutely nothing to cry about. She told herself to suck it up, but every time she did, even more tears welled in her eyes, and blinking them away wasn’t cutting it.

Fisher kissed her lips, and she let out a shuddered breath. Pinpricks of guilt shot down his spine. “Jessica? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

She nodded, but then with her arm thrown over her eyes, even with the moonlight shining on the bed, he couldn’t tell for sure. He gathered all the strength he possessed and rose onto his forearms, which pressed him deeper within her. He did his best to ignore the way it felt and his body’s instant reaction.

“Jessica, honey, please look at me.”

She shook her head no, and bit her lip. He wanted to turn on the light, but he’d trashed the lamp earlier. Well, damn. Prying her arm away from her face was like Indian arm wrestling, but he won. Shit. He’d known something was wrong, but he hadn’t expected this. Not for a million years. “Why are you crying, darlin’?”

She snuffled, and the tears continued. “I’m not crying. I don’t cry.”

Fisher kissed the side of her face and caught the tracks of her tears. “Tastes like tears.”

She let out another shuddered breath, and it was as if another hole in the dike appeared. For a woman who wasn’t crying, the tears were sure flowing.

She slammed her fist down on the bed. If he hadn’t had her pinned, inside and out, he was sure she’d be stomping off somewhere. Damn she was fascinating—beautiful, intelligent, and at times, amazingly clueless. “Sometimes a physical release spurs on an emotional one. Maybe you just need a good cry.”

Crying didn’t bother him. His brothers and cousin would rather have their left nut removed than deal with a woman’s tears, but he’d spent the last six years in hospitals where tears of grief, happiness, pain, and exasperation flowed around the clock. A mother’s grief was the worst. Nothing in his experience could compare to that.

“I’m not crying. My eyes are leaking. There’s a big difference.”

“Okay, sure.” He slid his arm around her and rolled them onto their sides. He might as well get comfortable. In his experience, when women who weren’t normally criers started crying, they made up for lost time. Yeah, he had a strong feeling she’d be at it awhile. “Since your eyes are leaking, you might as well just let it go.” He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“Yeah, that’s what sucks about this. You’re right here, and my eyes are leaking. God, this is embarrassing. You probably think I’m a nutcase.”

“Because you cry after amazing sex? I think you’re a nutcase because you tried to drive a car with a five-inch clearance up a jeep trail, and I’m not even going to mention your diet.”

She finally looked at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my diet. I can outrun you any day of the week.”

“Yeah, but then your hamstring cramps because you don’t get enough potassium. Face it, Jessica, if you ate better you’d perform better—it’s basic.”

She ran a hand down his chest. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my performance.” She wiggled, and his dick reacted as if she’d just given it CPR. Her eyes widened, and for a second there, he wondered if she was fishing for compliments. Hell, she was definitely worthy of them, but he’d always been a big believer of actions speaking louder than words.

Her kiss was slightly salty—warm and open and deep. She nudged them both over, straddled him, and sat drying her eyes with the backs of her hands, showing off her inner six-year-old. God, she was a wild combination of hard and soft, cynic and innocent, all wrapped up in a perfect package of a lean, mean, sex machine. “Um… sweetheart, if you’re going where I hope you are, we need to grab another condom.”

“Um sure, but before that, I’m hungry. That peach thing you made smells amazing. Would you mind—”

“Feeding you? No, just as long as you tell me what you were thinking of doing with that ice cream earlier.”

She bent over and kissed him, tears and embarrassment apparently forgotten. “How ’bout we go and get some, and I demonstrate?”

Jessie opted to grab the first T-shirt she could get her hands on, threw it on, and escaped into the kitchen, since crawling under the bed like a wounded cat to die of embarrassment wasn’t an option—not with Fisher watching her every move. She reheated their coffee and took the ice cream out of the freezer in an effort to hide her mortification.

Fisher strolled out wearing nothing but his Wranglers, zipped but not buttoned, and looking sexier than any man had a right to, even with the dark rings under his eyes. Rings that were probably put there from spending sleepless nights like this with other women. Not that she expected him to sleep with just her. Okay, well, yeah, she did. Maybe they should have gone over the rules before she agreed to play the game. And dating was a whole new game for her.

“What’s wrong?”

She tugged the cover off the ice cream. “Nothing. I’m just hungry.”

“And you’re a rotten liar. Whenever something’s wrong, you get this crease between your brows.” He smoothed it with his finger. “So you might as well spill it.”

“I’m just wondering about the rules.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “What exactly are we talking about?”

She pulled open the first drawer, searching for spoons. “I told you I don’t date.”

“Here.” He grabbed spoons out of the drawer right beside him and started dishing out the ice cream. “So now that we’re dating, you want to know the ground rules?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Dating rules? Sex rules? Relationship rules?”

“Sex rules, mostly.” But now that he mentioned it, dating rules and relationship rules kind of wigged her out too. “You know, maybe this whole research thing was a big mistake.”

“The only rules of sex are that while we’re together, we have it. Often.”

“And when we’re not together?”

“Oh, so that’s what this is all about. Are you doing
research
with anyone else?”

“No.”

He handed her the cobbler and stuck a spoonful in her mouth. “I’d prefer it if you kept it that way.”

She yanked the spoon out and pointed it at him. “I’m not the one with women falling all over me.”

A dark brow rose, and the left side of his mouth tilted up, showing off a perfect dimple. “You have nothing to worry about. I don’t have the time, energy, or interest to juggle women. Besides, you’re the only one I want to make love to.”

“It’s research, Fisher. And dating, I guess. Not love.”

“It’s romance. Just in case you’re not sure of what that involves, I’ll spell it out for you. Romance involves getting naked, making love, playing, and eating. It means talking on the phone and checking in with each other and holding hands under the table. It’s spending time together, and laughing, and crying. It’s fighting about what movie to see, and what games to play. It’s putting up with bad habits and each other’s families. It’s what couples do.”

“But that’s just it. We’re not a couple. We’re… research partners.”

“Darlin’, while you and I are together, we’re a couple. Research partners don’t sleep together, and they don’t do half the things with ice cream that I’m contemplating right about now. So it looks like you have a decision to make.” He sipped his coffee and stared at her over the rim.

“I have things to do. I really don’t have time to date.”

“Do the things you have to do preclude you from being with me?”

“Well, no. Not all the time.”

“Okay, so you work. What’s the big deal? Most couples work. I don’t expect you to drop everything to cavort with me. Besides, my schedule’s flexible. I don’t think it’ll be a problem. So, is it a deal?” He scooped up the last of his cobbler and stuck the spoon in his mouth as he turned to rinse the bowl.

“I guess.”

“You better be careful, Jessica. If you keep up this level of excitement, it’s going to go to my head.”

“What do you want me to say?” She stabbed her spoon back into the cobbler. “This whole arrangement makes me uncomfortable, which is probably why I’ve never really done the whole dating thing before.”

He dried his hands and stepped toward her, all bare-chested, barefooted, and barely dressed. “Change is scary, and you’ve scared the hell out of me since I met you. I think I’m a glutton for punishment.” He motioned to her half-eaten cobbler.

It had tasted great, until they started with the rules discussion.

“Are you going to finish that?”

She shook her head and handed it over. “Go ahead. I can’t finish it. It’s great, but I’m stuffed.” She shimmied up to sit on the granite counter. Shoot, she forgot she wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Thanks.” He stepped between her legs and shot her a sexy smile and scooped up a big spoonful. “This is just one more perk of coupledom,” he said around a mouthful of cobbler. “I get to eat whatever you can’t. Hunter has gained at least ten pounds since he married Toni—and believe me, it’s not because she’s a good cook.”

“Hunter is your twin, right?”

“Yeah. Trapper is the oldest, and Karma’s the baby.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Hunter, Trapper, Fisher, and Karma. There’s a story there somewhere.”

“My mom said Dad was trapping when Trapper was born, hunting and fishing when we were born, and going through a divorce when Karma was born. Needless to say, Mom named us.”

He finished her cobbler and slid his arm around her. She jumped off the counter and instinctively reached for him, her arms wrapped around his waist, and the momentum brought them together. He fit her so well that it stole her breath. He looked down at her and had a little ice cream on his mouth. Jessie stood on her toes and ran the tip of her tongue over his upper lip. The flavor of vanilla and peaches vied for dominance, but the taste of Fisher, subtle and hot, overwhelmed them the same way he overwhelmed her senses. One kiss had her heart warring with her breastbone and the bulge in his pants pressing against her stomach.

Fisher ended the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “Let’s go to bed. I’ll take care of the dishes in the morning.” He took her hand and led her out of the kitchen, turning off lights and locking doors on their way, and then as soon as they hit the bedroom, he pulled her shirt right over her head. “I think you wore me out today.”

“You can’t blame your exhaustion on me. You’ve been complaining about being tired since I found you.”

“You didn’t find me. I rescued you, remember?” She was still sputtering with indignation when he righted the lamp he’d knocked over earlier.

He switched on the light. It was a good thing the lamp proved to be indestructible. Fisher straightened the shade, tossed a few condoms on the table beside it, and tugged off his jeans. “Which side do you want?”

“You did not rescue me.”

“You can have the one closest to the bathroom. I brought your bags in from Karma’s room.” He pointed out her duffel sitting neatly on the chair. Everything was neat. He’d even straightened the bed. “I’m going to brush my teeth. You can join me if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just wait until you’re done.” She’d never shared a bathroom in her life. Not even in college. She’d gotten her own apartment because she couldn’t imagine living with a bunch of girls. The prospect of sharing a bathroom with Fisher wasn’t much better.

“Okay.” He kissed her before turning and walking out of the room.

Why’d he do that? Maybe he just liked messing with her head. If that was his intention, he was doing a great job.

She grabbed her ditty bag and was more than half tempted to drag her stuff back into Karma’s room. She’d never slept with the guys she had sex with—not even the guys she thought of as friends, and she definitely didn’t think of Fisher as a friend. He was too good-looking, too good at everything. The worst part about it was the way he looked at her—like she was a woman he wanted.

When it came to being just a woman, she didn’t know how. Since she was old enough to ride a bike, throw a baseball, and sink a free throw with nothing but net, she’d always been in competition with guys. She’d fought to get to the top of her class, to be the best batter on the team, any team—it didn’t matter if it was the boy’s baseball team or the office softball team, she was the best. She didn’t know how to live any other way.

She was competitive to a fault. People like her weren’t good at sitting on the sidelines, and from what she saw of relationships, that’s exactly what Fisher would expect her to do even though their relationship wasn’t real, and definitely not long-term. Hell, when it came right down to it, the whole research thing was a convenient excuse to scratch one heck of an itch and maybe get a few ideas for her book. Still, by agreeing to date anyone, even temporarily, she put herself in a very untenable position. She’d have to turn into the one thing she never wanted to be—the supportive little woman.

“Bathroom’s yours.”

She’d been so lost in thought he startled her. She looked like an idiot standing naked, hugging her toiletries to her chest. She should have bolted when she’d had the chance. “Thanks.” She hoped it didn’t sound as sarcastic as it felt. “I… um… I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ll wait here.” He slid under the covers and rolled onto his side to watch her.

Jessie closed the door with a click and leaned back against it, trying to quiet her racing heart. She’d had quite a workout for one day. Between her car breaking down, and then discovering Fisher, finding out she’d been tricked, and then falling into bed with him, she figured it would take hours to settle down. She caught her reflection in the mirror and gasped. God, she looked like a stranger. Her hair was a tousled mess, which meant it was going to take her an hour to comb it out in the morning, her lips were red and swollen, and her skin actually glowed. She couldn’t believe her eyes. For the first time in her life, she had that just-got-fucked look.

She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. All her previous dalliances were so… civilized that afterward, most times she didn’t even have to tighten her ponytail. They were perfunctory at best, but not with Fisher. No, she wasn’t sure which one brought the wild out in the other, but damn, she wondered if she’d ever be able to settle for perfunctory sex again.

She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and tried getting a comb through her hair, but it was useless. The way Fisher ran his hands through it and tugged on it, forcing her to expose her neck to his assault, made the thought of detangling it before jumping back in bed with him seem pointless. Just the thought he might want a replay made it impossible to regret the rat’s nest it had turned into. Hell, he could muss up her hair anytime.

She turned off the light and headed back to bed. Fisher lifted the covers for her as she slid in. He covered her up, threw his arm around her waist, and pulled her from the edge of the bed into the middle and right up against him. “There, that’s better.”

He spooned her and rested his hand on her stomach. She wasn’t into cuddling, but unfortunately, it seemed Fisher was. He was also the world’s fastest sleeper. She doubted it had been more than thirty seconds between the time he pulled her against him, and his light snore and steady breathing told her he was sound asleep. How did he do that?

She should have known it was too good to be true. All that talk about him making love to her again and again and again when he’d given her that adorable blanket apology had her looking forward to going to bed and not getting much sleep. Unfortunately, he was not going to deliver, at least not tonight. She might as well have brushed out her hair.

She glanced at him over her shoulder; he really did look as if he needed sleep. Lord only knew what he had done that had exhausted him so. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know. They had a deal, and the deal was, for as long as they were together, they’d only have sex with each other. As far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.

Okay, so that was all that
should
matter. So, she’d have to work on it. She was only human, and Fisher was by far, the best lover she’d ever had. She just didn’t know what would happen after the relationship thing was over. The thought of going back to her perfunctory sex life was not of interest.

***

Jessie fell asleep in Fisher’s arms, his soft snore in her ear, his legs tangled with hers, and his hand holding her breast. She awoke to the scent of coffee—always a good thing.

She pried her eyes open to find Fisher sitting against the headboard, sipping a cup, and watching her. Scraping the hair away from her eyes, she did a double take. “God, it wasn’t just another hot dream, was it?”

The corner of his lip curled, and his eyes sparkled. “You’ve had hot dreams about me?”

“No talking until after I’ve had coffee. I can’t be held responsible for anything I say or do pre-caffeine.”

That was all it took before he slid down in bed, reached across her, touching her in all the right places, and handed her a cup that had been sitting on the bedside table. He nuzzled her neck. “We don’t have to talk at all. There are more interesting forms of communication.”

He leaned over her, resting on one arm. She had to admit he looked as good in the morning as he did any other time of the day or night. She, on the other hand, did not. “You’re going to have to move since I can’t drink lying down.”

“Spoil sport.” He sat beside her, watching her every move, even though all she’d done since she awoke was breathe.

“Thanks.” She pulled the sheet up to cover her chest, tucked it under her arms, and scooted up in bed as she took her first sip. Perfect. The coffee was still hot, but cool enough to gulp. Just how she liked it, strong and sweet—like her men. God, where had that thought come from?

Fisher slid his arm around her and pulled her to his side before he nuzzled her ear again. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard of night blindness, but never morning blindness. You might want to have your vision checked when we get back to town.”

“Nope, it’s twenty-twenty. So, what do you want to do today? I can teach you how to fly-fish, or we can pack a picnic, take a boat across Red Fish Lake, and go for a hike. Or we can stay here so you can write. Maybe we should do all of the above.”