Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2) (7 page)

Then with a fast squeeze, he angled her slightly down and away.

“Oh, sheesh.” She sucked in a breath. His move had dragged her swollen, sensitive flesh over the denim. Her body throbbed.

When he loosened his grip, she immediately thrust forward, grinding onto the ridge of his jeans. Her breath hitched. Then his knees bumped into the side of the bed, and the thought that he would put her down—disconnect her body from his—pulled a strangled whimper from her lips.

“Please,” she begged. She was panting now.

He didn’t lay her down, though. Instead he gripped and tipped her away from him once again, then reconnected her to his front. Each of her bumps against his body was accompanied by a small thrust of his own.

The movements were subtle, but they were enough to drive her mad.

Back and forth. Over and over.

He kept it up, and her whimpers increased. He wouldn’t let her stay connected to him long enough to send her over the edge, but taunted her with all the different sensations instead. With each tiny thrust.

“Please,” she begged again. Her body was tight now. Ready to fly.

“Come for me.” His words were a whisper against her shoulder as he continued pumping her. His lips grazed over her skin.

“I can’t . . .” She twitched in his hands.

“You can.” He angled her away again. “You
will
.”

She grabbed frantically at his shoulders, hoping to still his motions and control the game. But when his mouth shifted and his teeth bit into the flesh just above one breast, her entire body arched. She began to shake.

He ducked his head and caught a nipple between his lips, and the shock of the touch had her shouting out. Her head dropped back. And she handed over complete surrender to Nick. His move had been the final push she’d needed. She was connected solidly with the denim now, and she ground herself tight.

“Come,” his demanded hoarsely. Then his lips sucked her hard, pulling urgently at her breast, and she had no choice. She did exactly as he’d asked.

The orgasm didn’t start slow. It immediately engulfed her, licking at her entire body with flames. Her thighs clenched, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Control was a thing of the past as spasms vibrated through her, almost to the point of pain.

Only, it wasn’t pain she felt tonight. And she didn’t want to ever stop feeling it.

After what seemed like forever, when her body finally calmed, her hands dropped to her sides, and her forehead landed on Nick’s shoulder. She was drained. And only after her breaths began to slow did she once again become aware of her surroundings, realizing that she’d not even managed to get one piece of clothing off his body. But she wasn’t about to apologize for her failure. She’d needed this. And danged, but he’d delivered.

“You okay?” he asked. His words whispered across her ear, and her body shivered.

“Maybe,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Ready for me to put you on the bed?”

Honestly, she wanted to stay right where she was for a while longer. She liked the feel of his arms holding her. They were really strong. But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she nodded, and only after he’d tugged the covers back and gently settled her head on her pillow, did she finally lift her gaze.

His brows inched up. He was asking if he could join her. Or if she’d had enough.

She hadn’t had nearly enough. “Take off your clothes.”

Her throaty words were all he needed. The heat in his eyes turned to cinders, and in thirty seconds he was naked from head to toe. But when he put one knee on the bed at her side, she stopped him with a lifted palm. He groaned, but he didn’t finish climbing in with her. He stayed right where he was, his body inches away. So she took a really long, fascinated stare.

He was hard all over, his muscles well defined, with little body fat anywhere. Clearly he worked out. Often. And the highlight of his body—the really amazing area that she’d just rubbed herself all over—was thick. And not shy. It jutted right at her. So she slid a hand over him.

“Harper,” Nick warned. His hips clenched, thrusting him farther into her grip.

“You’re big,” she noted.

Masculine pride flashed in his eyes.

“And I’ll bet you’re good at this,” she went on. The line of his mouth remained flat as she spoke, his eyes carefully watching her again. She was stalling, but only for a minute. Only long enough to let her mind catch up with her body.

It had been a really long time since she’d done this. Understandably, she was a little nervous. As well as fascinated.

And also angry.

She’d never wanted to sleep with anyone but Thomas.

She stroked her hand to the base of Nick and back up, shoving her husband from her mind. Then she repeated her action a second time. The third sweep of her grip up to the head of Nick’s penis had her fingers squeezing harder, and a tiny bead of moisture appeared on the tip. So she leaned in.

He remained in her hand, so she felt him tense. At the same time, his breaths shortened. Peering up from her intimate position, she thrilled at the look of pleading on his face. And finally, she felt back in control.

She stuck her tongue out and touched him, and his body jerked. Then without further hesitation, she fit her lips around his head and his hands came down on her shoulders. His fingers dug in hard, and a heavy grunt hit her ears. And after a few seconds of simply absorbing—the way her mouth stretched around him, the feel of his blood pumping so close to the skin—Harper finally began to move. She took him deeper into her mouth, sliding her lips and hands up and down the length of him together, while her tongue played its own game over the heated flesh.

She worked him for several minutes, finding her own thrill as long-ago techniques came back. Then she slid both palms to his butt and gripped, and pulled him tight to her. He was large in her mouth, but she didn’t shy away. It was too damned exhilarating just to be doing this.

When she finally broke for a breath, easing her mouth slowly off him, she intended to mutter something clever and teasing, but was caught by surprise instead. Nick’s face was suddenly in front of hers, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin. Then he was punishing her mouth with his.

There was no playing in him now. He demanded her obedience, and in one smooth move, his body covered hers.

Within seconds, Nick had the promised condom on and had lifted slightly off her. He stared down, his eyes blazing, but seeming to ask for permission one last time. She gave it with a nod, and his thighs wasted no time nudging hers apart. He positioned himself at her opening, and though she had one tiny second of panic at the thought of what she was about to do, she didn’t change course. She merely closed her eyes so Nick wouldn’t see, and pulled his mouth back down to hers. He pushed inside her.

The feel of him was intense and heady, and a darned-near out-of-body experience. Their breaths mingled, and their bodies fit together with not a single breath of air between them. And Nick felt right inside of her.

Chapter Seven

I
t took more than a few minutes before Nick’s breathing allowed speech again. While he waited, he kept his eyes closed and noted several key facts.

First, the television was still on. The movie had flashed in silence as they’d come together. It had been fascinating to watch her reach orgasm in the strobe-light effect.

Additionally, since they’d finished, Harper hadn’t uttered a sound.

Nick swallowed a bout of nerves as the final observation hit his consciousness. She remained beside him, but she lay completely still. No part of her touched any part of him.

Had they just made a mistake?

And if so, what was he supposed to say to make it better now?

This wasn’t how his “after” usually played out, so he decided that until proven otherwise, he’d go with the theory that Harper was simply not a cuddler. Hopefully her stillness was par for the course.

“Did you have sex with Betsy before coming over here?”

His eyes popped open. “What?” he snapped. He gaped at her. “Of course not.”

“Okay.” She looked neither upset nor relieved. “I was just checking.”

And he was just pissed.

He rolled to his elbow and frowned when she closed her eyes. “Harper,” he said.

She didn’t reply. Nor did she open her eyes. So he brought her face around to his. When she still didn’t look at him, he continued to glare at her, hoping the look would somehow burn its way through her eyelids. It took a moment, but his determination paid off. She finally peeked at him, and he could tell by her now-smug expression that she was going for a superior look, trying to play off the moment with humor. But he wasn’t laughing.

“Why would you think that?”

Her smugness faltered, uncertainty replacing the self-assured, bold woman he knew her to be. “She was just . . . And you were . . .” She shrugged. “Not that it would matter either way. You can do whatever you want.”

“Of course I can. But do you really think
that’s
what I would do?”

“I don’t really know you, Nick.” Her words were soft spoken, and the honesty in them immediately drained him of anger. She was right. Neither of them knew much about the other.

“Well, that’s one thing you now know.” He gentled his words. “I wouldn’t do that. To anyone.”

She licked her lips, relief flashing through her eyes.

And he suddenly wondered who she really was if that kind of vulnerability lived inside her. He told himself to return to his side of the bed. To resume their post-sex non-cuddling. To not make more of the moment than it was. But he didn’t want to roll away from her. Especially not with that slight look of uncertainty still lingering on her face. So he kissed her again.

He could still taste the mix of beer and popcorn on her lips, and when he pulled back, she was looking at him. The vulnerability had disappeared, but the moment remained heavy.

At a loss for what to do next, he fell back on his old standby. Charm.

He gave her a knowing smile, and he picked up her hand and turned it over. He pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist and inhaled. As she had earlier in the day, she smelled like baby powder. “I had an amazing time,” he murmured. He watched her as he began to nip along her forearm, noting that she wasn’t immune to his touch. A renewed flare of heat began to burn behind her eyes. He liked that.

He worked his way toward her inner elbow, enjoying the slide of smooth skin beneath his lips. He hadn’t brought it up, but he also had a second condom tucked away in his wallet.

“I hope it was fun for you, too,” he said. He tugged at the sheet she’d pulled up over her, inching it down just enough to expose the top curves of her breasts. He hadn’t had nearly enough time exploring those.

He gave one more tug, and one dusty-rose nipple popped free. His mouth watered.

“I definitely had fun,” she agreed. Her gaze swept down to his mouth. “But . . .”

He froze. He hated that word. “But what?”

She paused for a second, her eyes steady on his, as if trying to decide whether to say what was on her mind or not. Then she glanced toward the door, and he got it.

“But you want me to go?” He sighed.

She offered a tight smile. “Will you hate me if I say yes?”

“Of course not.”

He didn’t waste any time rising and reaching for his jeans. He’d been right before. He shouldn’t have shown up there tonight. Sex hadn’t been what she’d needed. He’d known that. Hadn’t he told himself that very thing with every step he’d made from his room to hers?

He could kick himself for forgetting. However, no judge, whether moral or judicial, would find him guilty for sticking around after she’d come out of her bathroom the way she had.

He fastened his jeans and took a moment longer than necessary to shrug into his shirt. He didn’t look at her as he dressed; he needed to get his thoughts together first. He wasn’t mad—he’d never be mad because a woman asked him to leave. But he was disappointed. Mostly in himself. He shouldn’t have let this go so far.

But he was also asking himself:
What the hell?

As the last whirl of the helicopter blades came to a stop, Harper found herself going as motionless as everything around her. She’d just arrived home after dropping the corporate execs back at the Missoula airport. And though there were still several hours of daylight ahead of her, she had no additional flights scheduled, nor did she want any.

What she wanted was to crawl into her own bed and forget. Or maybe relive.

Sex with Nick had been off the charts.

Only . . . she’d had
sex
with
Nick
.

The thoughts were conflicting, and each had been battling to be heard since she’d kicked him out of her motel room Friday night.

She’d managed to make it all the way through Saturday without getting caught alone with him, then she and Jewel had driven back immediately after the last bull-riding event. Harper had stayed over at Jewel’s last night, both because they’d gotten in so late and because Jewel had once again been sick. Yet through every minute that had passed the remainder of the weekend, even with everything she’d had going on, her head had continuously carried out the fight.

Sex with Nick had been off the charts.

She’d had
sex
with
Nick
.

Was she supposed to be thrilled or feel guilty? And if guilty . . . should it be directed toward Thomas? Or Nick? Or herself?

She suddenly felt antsy and forced herself to exit the aircraft and head toward her house. She was on the back side of her property, land spread out in every direction, with her enormous two-story home sitting directly in front of her. Thomas had not only taken a chunk of his trust the minute he’d gained full access to it and bought them a souped-up helicopter, but he’d also had a huge house built for them. He’d even poured a helicopter pad in their backyard. They’d had everything they would ever need here.

She focused straight ahead as she kept her feet moving. She lived on the west side of the lake, and the property sat high enough that even though she was several miles from the shoreline, she had a view all the way across the water. And as she’d done at the end of every flight since Thomas had died, she looked beyond the lake, across to where Birch Bay was nestled snugly among the pines and birches . . . and felt even more alone than she was.

Entering the house through the back door, she pulled out her cell and checked for messages. There were three. She didn’t advertise regular business hours and rarely bothered answering her phone when working.

“Hello,” a male voice said after she hit the button to play the messages. “I was told that you don’t have a problem taking people to the top of Mount Cleveland.”

Nope. She didn’t have a problem doing anything.

“If that’s the case. My girlfriend and I”—the owner of the voice cleared his throat and then lowered his voice—“I want to propose to my girlfriend. She loves to hike Glacier, so I want to take her to the top.”

Harper’s heart squeezed. Proposals were both her favorite and the most bittersweet.

The caller left his number, and Harper listened to the remaining two messages, both of them inquiring about chartering a personalized tour of the area. She wrote down all the numbers and decided to fix herself a late lunch. She’d taken a snack with her when she’d headed out to pick up her passengers that morning but hadn’t been in the mood to eat when lunchtime had rolled around. How could she eat when her insides were in turmoil?

But the funny thing was, the turmoil hadn’t shown up in the form she’d expected.

Immediately after sleeping with Nick, she’d been overwhelmed by what she’d done. She’d expected that. It was her first and only time with another man, after all. But she’d also been bowled over by how much she’d enjoyed it. And she had
not
expected that. Not because she’d doubted Nick’s skill, but for the pure fact that he wasn’t Thomas. It had never once crossed her mind that another man’s touch could make her feel anything similar to Thomas’s.

Therefore, she’d kicked Nick out. And had felt a little bad about it ever since.

She smiled at the memory as she stood at the sink and rinsed off lettuce and spinach to go on a sandwich. She’d caught him off guard again. That time, not in a good way. She’d instigated the entire thing, had been a full participant, and she’d gotten way more than she’d ever hoped for. Yet the minute it had been over, the thought of touching him—of snuggling up to him—had terrified her.

Her sending him away had hurt his feelings, she knew. Though he’d assured her that leaving was perfectly fine.
He slept better alone, after all.

But she hadn’t bought it. It had bothered him how she’d changed course so quickly. And the truth was, it bothered her, too. But she’d needed to be alone in that moment. It had all been too much. He’d made her feel and need and want
so
much. Way more than one night in bed with him could ever provide. But the worst part had been that she’d wanted
to curl into him in the aftermath. Just let him hold her. Only, if he’d held her . . .

She blew out a harsh breath. If Nick had held her after showing such tenderness and concern before he’d even touched her, she feared she would’ve fallen apart.

Ditching the idea of food, she moved to the living room and turned on the TV. There was little she ever watched with interest—mostly it was about having noise in the house—so she dropped to the couch and started flipping through channels. She stopped when she got to a commercial that caught her attention. It was the one featuring Nick.

She sat up straighter as his face filled the seventy-inch screen. He was wearing that smile he was so good at. Then the camera panned back, and she trailed down over the rest of him. His thumbs were tucked securely behind a championship belt buckle, dark-washed jeans hugged every inch of his lower body, and his cowboy hat was pushed slightly off his forehead. Not the tugged-low way he wore it when standing off to the side watching his competitors.

The entire package had her drooling.

And wasn’t that something? She’d seen this commercial many times before, but she’d barely paid attention. She’d known who Nick was, of course—her younger sister’s long-ago friend. Therefore, the extent of her thoughts before today had been happiness that he’d done well for himself.

The commercial ended and she hit rewind, backing it up so she could watch again. She’d slept with a man that wasn’t her husband. And she’d really, really enjoyed it. And she should probably feel guilty about that.

Only, she didn’t
want
to feel guilt. Not about any of it.

Was spending one evening having a good time such a bad thing? Because if she could have a redo . . . she would re
do
. Everything. Exactly as she had Friday night.

She shook her head as she sat there, making up her mind based on facts.
No.
She would not have guilt. Not over this. If Thomas had been here, she wouldn’t even be in a position to do anything to feel guilty about. But even more telling—and this was where she kept landing—for the first time since waking up in the hospital and realizing that her world was no longer her world, she’d taken a step forward.