Authors: M Leighton
So I go to her.
I open the door a crack and listen. I can
hear her father snoring downstairs, so I slip out of my room and
down the hall, silently entering Olivia’s room.
I move quietly. I’m relieved that her
breathing remains deep and even. She’s lying on her side, facing
away from me. Stripping off my jeans, I peel back the covers just
enough to slide beneath them. I ease in beside her and snuggle up
close to her back.
In her sleep, she wiggles her butt against
me, settling in closer. I bite my lip to keep from making any
noise. She’s still naked and the crease of her ass is teasing
me.
I reach around and cup one of her perfect
breasts. Even in sleep, her body responds to me, the nipple
puckering. I pinch it lightly between my fingertips and she moans a
little, pushing her ass into me again. This time, I push back,
grinding my hips against hers.
I lean forward and kiss her neck, letting my
hand trial down her flat stomach to the little thatch of
neatly-trimmed hair covering what I want most. Obligingly, she
shifts, parting her legs enough for me to slide a finger between
her folds. I rub her slowly, gently, until I feel her hips move
with the rhythm of my hand.
Easing a finger inside her, I find that she’s
already dripping wet. My body jumps in anticipation, flexing
against her back side.
I move my hand down to cup her thigh and
bring her leg up onto my top one. It opens her enough that I can
guide myself into her from behind. It’s all I can do not to groan
loudly when I slip into her tight sheath. I inhale deeply so as not
to make any noise. She tips her hips back toward me, giving me an
even deeper penetration. I don’t know if it’s intentional or
instinctive. I still can’t be sure if she’s awake or not.
Working my fingers back to her moist center,
I rub her toward orgasm as I move slowly in and out of her wet
heat. When I feel her muscles begin to clench around me, her hand
comes up to my hip, gripping me, pulling me tighter against
her.
She’s awake.
I hear her breathing pick up and then she
gasps. I feel the spasms of her orgasm and hear her panting softly.
I hold her firm and steady as I drive into her, harder and
harder.
And then an explosion of sensation and I’m
coming inside her. Before I even realize it, my teeth are biting
into her shoulder. It seems to stir her. She brings her hand up and
fists her fingers in my hair, pulling it a little, making me jerk
inside her.
Damn, I can’t wait to see what she’s like
when she lets go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN- Olivia
I can’t stop smiling. Again. Even though
doubt niggles at the back of my mind, it’s impossible to think
entirely bad thoughts when I’m lying on Cash’s chest, tracing his
tattoo.
“What does this mean?” I whisper.
“It’s the Chinese symbol for awesome,” he
teases lightly.
I giggle. “If it’s not, which I imagine it
isn’t, then it should be.”
“Are you paying me a compliment? I just want
to be sure, so I don’t miss it.”
I slap his ribs. “You make it sound like I’m
mean and horrible because I don’t throw myself at your feet.”
“You don’t have to throw yourself at my feet.
Although if you want to, I’m sure I can think of something for you
to do while you’re down there.”
I look up at him and he’s waggling his
eyebrows again.
“I’m sure you could.” Shaking my head, I
settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes.
“Seriously, what do they mean?”
Cash is quiet for so long I begin to think
he’s not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.
“It’s a collage of things that remind me of
my family.”
I look at each image, not really being able
to see any discernible images. I trace the things that look like
dark fingers. “And these?”
“They symbolize the fire that took them from
me.”
I lean up onto my elbow and look down into
his face.
“What do you mean?”
He looks disconcerted for a second before he
answers. “Well, my mother was killed in a boating explosion that
was intended for my entire family. My father is in prison for her
murder. My brother and I are very...separated. In all the ways that
matter, that fire took my family. My home. Now, it’s just me.”
I think back to Nash telling me about his
father being in prison for murder. We never got to talk more about
it, so I didn’t know his mother was dead and his father was to
blame.
I want to know more, of course. I have a
thousand questions, but I don’t want to push.
“Do you…feel like talking about it?”
His smile is polite and sad. “Not really. If
you don’t mind. I hate to ruin a day that has started out this
perfectly.” His grin widens when he reaches down to cup my butt. I
feel him getting hard against my belly where I’m half lying on
him.
I grin, too. “Well, you’re just gonna have to
cool your jets. My dad will be up soon and I may not have mentioned
that he’s a crack shot with a pistol.”
“In that case, how about breakfast
instead?”
I giggle. “Wise choice, braveheart.”
“Don’t tease. How much good would I be to you
if I let your dad blow my dick off?”
I say nothing, only smile. But inside, I feel
my heart plummet. Already I’m thinking that there’s so much more to
Cash than the fact that he’s great between the sheets. He’s
charming and witty, he’s considerate and passionate. He’s smart and
resourceful. He’s all sorts of wonderful things that have nothing
to do with his prowess in the bedroom.
And in a public bathroom. And against the
shower wall.
Those thoughts have me feeling lighthearted
again in no time.
After Cash sneaks back to his bedroom, I head
for the shower. Again. I need to actually bathe this time.
I smile the entire time. There’s not a place
on my body that doesn’t seem to be marked with Cash as I rub over
it with the soap. And it’s a decidedly nice feeling. For the moment
anyway.
The reality of my situation threatens to
intrude once more. And once more, I brush it back. Ruthlessly.
Relentlessly. I’ll deal with it on Monday. But I’m taking this
weekend and calling a time out. Time out from wisdom and
responsibility and all the voices in my head. This weekend is only
about Cash and me and all the mad attraction between us.
After dressing in cut-off jean shorts and a
Boys Over Books
t-shirt, I head downstairs. I’m a little
surprised by what I find.
My father is sitting at the kitchen table.
His casted leg is propped up on a stool, his crutches are against
the wall behind him, and there’s a day’s growth of stubble in
place. The most surprising thing, however, is that he’s chatting up
a storm with Cash, who appears to be making breakfast.
A thousand different feelings bubble in my
chest as I watch the scene. Not one of them is welcome. Each of
them means trouble for me. And for my heart.
If only you were more like Nash,
I
think as I watch Cash add spices to beaten eggs as my father
directs him.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, trying to
hide the sinking feeling that’s dragging my heart into a pit of
despair.
They both turn to greet me with light and
happy smiles. Cash winks at me from in front of the stove and pure
lust twitches in my lower belly. There’s no denying this man is
hot. Effing hot. Probably hotter than the stove he’s cooking
on.
I jump in to help and let myself fall into a
morning that is nothing short of surreal and Rockwellian in its
charm and appeal. As I sit scarfing down eggs, bacon, pancakes and
coffee, I know that every other morning for the rest of my life
will be measured against this one. And probably come up wanting. By
an enormous margin.
Dammit.
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Cash
helps get Dad settled back into his chair and we head for the barn.
On the way, Cash peppers me with questions about raising sheep and
what all it entails. I try to answer them as quickly and as
succinctly as I can, although it’s hard to cram a lifetime of
knowledge and experience into a few short minutes.
“So what is it we’re doing today then?”
“We are going out to look for the new lambs.
The ewes separate themselves and have their babies out in the woods
or field. We need to make sure the lambs are healthy, though, and
not having any problems that we need to treat. I’ll record them and
which ewe they belong to. That way, too, we know roughly how long
to wait to bring them in to tag them, dock the female tails and
band the male testicles.”
“Dock their tails? Band their testicles?
Why?” Cash asks, looking fairly horrified at such a barbaric
notion.
“We dock the female tails because it’s much
easier and cleaner for the ewes when they give birth. It’s for the
safety of both the mother and her offspring. Plus, it’s also a way
to tell them apart from the young males.
“As for the males, we neuter them
because…well, you know what they’d do if we didn’t.”
Over his shock over the procedure wears off,
he grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, I do!”
Smiling at him, I throw my leg over the wide,
padded seat of the four-wheeler and pat the spot behind me. “Now,
it’s my turn to drive,” I inform him in my wickedest voice.
Cash cocks one eyebrow in that way that I
love and very slowly slides onto the seat behind me. He scoots in
close, grabbing my hips and pulling me snugly into the V of his
legs, pressing his chest to my back. I can feel him along every
inch of my posterior. He winds his arms around my waist, his hands
settling perversely low on my stomach, making my insides twitch
with desire.
I feel his lips against my ear when he
whispers, “Ready when you are.”
With shaking fingers, I turn the key and
crank the ignition. When I rev the engine, I figure there’s no way
it’s running with more RPMs than my libido is at this very moment.
If Cash doesn’t cool it, I’ll be sitting in a puddle within the
hour.
I pull out of the barn and stop shortly after
to open the first gate. One of our several herding dogs runs out to
meet us. I reach down to pet his enormous white head. “Solomon! How
are you boy?” I ask of the Great Pyrenees.
I bend down and he licks my cheek vigorously
then moves back so I can push the gate wide and pull the
four-wheeler through. Cash gets off to close the gate behind us and
that becomes our routine through each gate of each field of the
vast 170-acre farm of my childhood.
I drive us up and down and around the old
familiar paths of my youth, pointing out along the way places and
things I think Cash might find interesting. He asks several
relevant and insightful questions, leaving me in no doubt that his
intellectual aptitude is at least equal to Nash’s.
Smart
and
hot. Dammit.
Cash helps me look for ewes with new lambs.
He points out several that are from the spring. Not having been
around them his whole life, he can’t look at them and see the
subtle differences that indicate they are older. But I see it
immediately.
In the end, we find seven late season lambs.
They’re a result of Rambo, one of our rams, escaping his pen again
and finding his way to the ewes. Normally, Dad tries to keep all
the mating in certain months so that the ewes have the lambs in
spring. But occasionally, something like this happens and leaves
him scrambling to account for surprise lambs.
I make note of each lamb we’ve spotted.
According to my father, he was expecting to find seven to nine.
What this tells me is either we’ll find a couple more tomorrow when
we come out or we’ll find a couple dead somewhere.
Even after all these years, my heart squeezes
at the thought. There’s nothing worse than losing lambs.
On the way back toward the front field, we
see two other dogs and Pedro, the llama. Of course Cash makes a
comment about each. I can’t help but laugh at his witty
observations.
My lighthearted attitude toward the day
concerns me, though. Despite the danger of it, I can feel myself
being pulled in by Cash,
to
Cash. It’s like looking out on
the horizon and seeing a whole new realm of feeling lying just
ahead. Along with the ominous clouds of a storm. It would be all
too easy for me to imagine us one day taking over the farm.
Together.
And thinking like that would be a
disaster.
Rather than going all the way back to the
house, I drive us to the North barn. Playing with Solomon at every
stop is a dirty business, because he’s filthy. Plus, riding through
the tall grass flings all sorts of bugs and debris, essentially
adding another layer of dirt on top of the first one.
So I head to the barn so we can clean up.
It’s the closest place with running water.
I let Cash clean up first. Then, after I’ve
washed my hands and arms, I wet a paper towel to wipe off with. I
drag it over my sweaty neck and chest, then up my arms as well.
When I’m finished, I move to throw it in the
trash and find Cash watching me. He’s leaned up against the wall
with his arms crossed over his chest, staring. He’s not smiling,
but there’s a look on his face I’m becoming familiar with. A heat
in his eyes. It’s dark and dangerous, and it has the ability to
burn me up if I’m not careful.
I stop. Not on purpose, but because I feel
the world shift beneath my feet when he unfolds his body and moves
slowly toward me. I feel like I’ve been chosen by a lion as his
mate and he’s stalking me.
Cash stops in front of me. He doesn’t say a
word. He just bends and scoops me up into his arms and carries me
back to the four-wheeler.
I parked it in the sun on the crest of a
hill. It’s obscured by woods on three sides. The only thing in the
field below is grass. No people, no eyes. Just grass. Tall, tall
grass, swaying calmly in the warm breeze.