Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (14 page)

“I’ll tell you what I am,” she said. “I’m pissed.
Angry
. And I’m not going to take any more crap from anyone.” With her hair loose and riotous, he couldn’t see much of her face, only the tip of her nose. It was making its way skyward. Some things had to remain constant.

“Bully for you,” he said.

“And that includes you, buster.”

“Mia, you’ve never taken any crap from me.”

“I’m not going to, either.”

It was his turn to stop in his tracks. “So you had to go on a booze binge and manhunt to work that one out?” He shook his head in disbelief.

The nose looked down on him. “I hardly think a cowboy with a harem should be giving me life lessons.”

They’d reached her pickup. Taking the keys from her, he unlocked it and yanked open the passenger door. “You’re mixing your cultures. I do not have a harem.”

“Oh, excuse me. Your traveling groupies, then.”

“For Christ’s sake, I don’t have groupies, stationary or otherwise.”

She snickered. “Oh,
please
.”

“Right. Whatever. Just get in the truck, Your Royal Pain in the Assness.”

“This is the passenger side.”

“Astounding powers of observation. You drink, you don’t drive. Get in,” he repeated.

She cast him a withering glare but, thankfully, she didn’t argue as she climbed into the seat. He made sure to shut her door before she could change her mind. Then, he circled around the hood, slid behind the steering wheel, glanced over to make sure she’d fastened her seat belt, and tried not to ogle her breasts in the process. He started the engine with a roar.

* * *

Eight seconds later, the truck’s interior had shrunk to the size of a shoe box, and her scent had wrapped itself around him. It reminded him of the beach in summer, of hot sun mixed with ocean spray, salty and delicious. She smelled of lemon, too, and something else that made him dizzy when he breathed.

He opened the window, but that didn’t help. The wind caught the soft tendrils of her hair so they flew about and teased his forearm—“brush” would be too heavy a word. His head spun from something far more potent than alcohol.

In all the time Reid had known Mia, they’d never been alone in such a confined space. The intimacy heightened his perceptions until he swore he could hear her pulse beating and see the rise and fall of her breasts, even though he kept his eyes glued on the dark road ahead.

What he couldn’t divine was the taste of her.

Would she be tangy and salty and unexpectedly fiery, or succulent and sweet like a perfectly ripe peach?

The desire he battled so often around her renewed its attack.

He stepped on the gas.

They arrived at Bartlett Road in record time. If Mia noticed that he’d gotten them there at warp speed, she kept it to herself. She’d been silent during the short trip.

He wasn’t going to tempt fate by initiating a conversation.

He passed the gates marking his family’s ranch and half a mile on turned right at the Bodells’ drive.

He’d barely straightened the steering wheel when the front tires went into a rut the size of the Grand Canyon. The jolt of the suspension nearly concussed him.

But it was Mia’s jouncing off the seat and then landing
close—far too close—that had him hissing in pain and the muscles of his thighs hardening in readiness.

Fortunately, she scooted back to her side of the cab a millisecond before he hit the next crater.

“What the hell?” he said.

“Surely you know our driveway.” Her hands were splayed against the dashboard. “You come over to see Thomas all the time.”

“Why drive when I can cut across the property on foot or ride Sirrus?” He spoke through gritted teeth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue off on the next pothole. “How long’s it been like this?”

She made an airy gesture with her hand, nearly swatting him in the face when the wheels went over a log-sized bump. “Awhile.”

“Has it ever occurred to anyone that the road could be repaired?”

“Really? Wow. That’s pure genius. Here’s a news flash for you: Fixing a road this long costs thousands. My family has barely two pennies to rub together. That’s where you come into the picture, remember? Besides, our road is a good test of skills. If you know how to drive at all, the ruts are easy to avoid.”

Deciding it might be the only way to shut her up, he aimed for the biggest one he could find.

The porch light was on, and a yellow glow from a single lamp shone in an upstairs room.

It was simple, he told himself as he cut the engine. All he had to do was to escort her up the front steps, unlock the door, watch her step inside, and wait to hear the lock slide home. Then he could do what he did best in Mia’s company. Turn around and get the hell away from her.

Reid made to go around to her side of the truck, but
Mia had already climbed down. They walked toward the front of the house, the chirping of crickets punctuating the silence between them. And though the evening was mild and the sky studded with stars, he felt the air crackle with the intensity of an approaching storm. He was too aware of her. Too conscious of the sway of her hips, the fascinating mystery of her body.

Just a few more seconds and he’d be safe from any crazy impulses.

Abruptly tired of the mini pep talks he kept conducting with himself, he bounded up the porch steps and grasped the screen-door handle. Yanking it open, he unlocked the door. Impatience riding him, he took a quick step back. His body slammed into hers.

A high-pitched “oh!” escaped her as she recoiled from the contact. Teetering, Mia windmilled her arms.

He grabbed her before she could tumble off the porch. The banging of the screen door behind them was nothing compared to the slam of his heart as she fell against him. Soft, full breasts pressed against his chest.

Lust annihilated thought. Common sense went up in flames under the searing heat of her body plastered against his.

He may have groaned and she may have gasped. The roaring in his ears was too loud for him to be certain, and any sounds were short-lived as their mouths found each other and fused. They kissed in a desperate mash of lips, clicking teeth, and tangled tongues.

His hands closed around curves deliciously lush. His hunger spiked, desperate to uncover all she’d camouflaged for years under layers of god-awful clothing.

Her breasts were just right, amply filling his large hands. He fondled their exquisite softness with his palms, exulting when her nipples turned pebble hard. He plucked them with his fingers, massaged them with
his palms, and caught her moan in his mouth as he kissed her feverishly.

God, he wanted her so badly. He raised his head, his lips hovering over hers. He needed to be sure.

“Mia?” His voice was rough with arousal.

“Mm-hmm.”

“One more time. You broke up with Andrew, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

She opened heavy-lidded eyes. “No. Stupid maybe,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” He let out a low laugh. “Me, too.”

Her arms were about his neck. She clung to him as if he were a lifeline. It was damned fine with him. He caught her around the waist, kissed her again, and the heat between them flared like an inferno.

“Up. Stairs. Bed. Room.” He managed between frenzied kisses.

A hazy few seconds later, his heart pounding as loudly as the thud of their sprinting feet on the stairs, they were in Mia’s bedroom. He stretched out his arm, feeling for a wall light switch.

She caught the movement and stopped him with an urgent “Don’t. Leave it dark.”

He let her have her way. There was a moon tonight, and its beam stole through the open window, casting the interior in a gray-blue light. It’d be enough. For now.

He moved, before he could think, before
she
could think, before either of them could wise up enough to put a stop to this insane need claiming them. He took her in his arms and kissed her, slanting his mouth across hers, sweeping his hands from her waist to her ribs to the sweet full globes of her breasts, learning her as they
crossed the room. With every step, he touched, tasted, and burned.

They reached her bed. He gave silent thanks. He didn’t have time for finesse, not the way the blood was pumping in his veins, and his cock was stiff and pulsing.

Urgency fueling him, his hands now moved with a rough efficiency that would have ordinarily appalled him. At the moment he couldn’t give a damn. He felt like he’d go blind if he didn’t get her naked and him inside her.

There was one good thing about Mia’s clothes: They were blessedly easy to remove. A hook, a zip, and her skirt dropped in an obliging cascade. Her blouse was loose enough to bunch as he kissed her, dragging it up while his knuckles grazed satin skin. He released her soft lips long enough to pull the top over her head and past her thick halo of hair.

And then he had to gasp for air, suck in lungfuls of the stuff, as he caught his first glimpse of Mia in the moonlight.

Holy fuck. Even in a plain white bra and undies, she was gorgeous: generous curves and long, strong limbs, and hair—all that glorious, crazy corkscrew hair that fell down her back. It was as wild and lush as the rest of her. He spared a thought for all those too-skinny women with sparrow bones and knew he was probably grinning like a fool, a happy fool. He only hoped his tongue wasn’t hanging out like a dog anticipating a yummy treat.

“Take ’em off, Mia.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not sure—”

Damn. She was already thinking too much, revving up for an argument. “I want to watch. Do it, Mia.”

Maybe it was the rasping need in his voice; maybe it was the sight of his hands moving to his shirt buttons, his fingers working quickly; maybe, just maybe, she was
as crazily aroused as he. But for once in their rocky relationship, she actually did as he asked.

And, man, did he appreciate it.

She wasn’t practiced. She didn’t strike a pose that mimicked some porn starlet’s or that showed him she was up on the top-ten moves money-back-guaranteed to drive a man wild. Good thing, too. His control was hanging by a thread as fine as a spider’s web.

She reached up and brought her hands to the middle of her back so her elbows stuck out at sharp angles. She fumbled with the bra’s catch. Her breasts jiggled. And, truly, that was all the erotic come-on he needed.

The bra slid off. Okay, he hadn’t expected perfection. But there it was: generously rounded globes, puckered aureoles, and tight, tempting nipples begging for his touch. He swallowed and yanked the shirt off his shoulders.

He caught her looking. Her gaze roamed over his chest, down his heaving ribs, to his navel, then followed the narrow line of hair that led past his belt buckle. Then she saw the part of him that was begging, too. Big time.

Her eyes locked on the bulge near his fly and her mouth formed a silent “oh.”

“Panties,” he growled the command. Fuck finesse, fuck politesse.

It did the trick. Her fingers moved to the elastic waistband. While he still had a few functioning brain cells, he dug his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, flipped it open, and tossed a foil packet onto the bed.

He returned his wallet and reached for his belt buckle just as Mia’s sweet triangle of curls was revealed. And then it did feel as if he’d gone a little blind, as a blast of lust seared his retinas.

He shucked off his boots and socks, jeans, and knit
boxers in a blur of motion. There was no grace involved but probably a fair amount of comedy. He was too aroused for laughter, though.

As for Mia, she was staring at his erection as if her eyes were going to pop out. He hoped that was a good sign. Because he was desperate to be inside her, the instinct as all-powerful as the one driving a stallion to claim and mount a mare.

He fought the urge to tackle her, but he couldn’t stop himself from crowding her until she sank down on the mattress as if her knees had turned to water. He followed, his body bowing over her.

“Mia.” He nudged her legs apart.

She let him.

Was that enough? No, damn it, it wasn’t. He had to make sure. He could still stop, turn around, dress, and walk out of here. His cock wouldn’t shatter in a million pieces. “You want this to happen between us?”

He saw the column of her throat work as she gulped. “Yes.”

Thank God. “Okay, then.” Part of him registered that he was not going to win the smooth-lover-of-the-night award, but words were getting hard to string together, let alone formulate. He spared another second to take her in: Her hair spread out in a thick fan, some of the strands resting on her torso, brushing the tips of her breasts. His gaze traveled down the flat of her tummy, the hollow of her navel, the sweet curve of her hips, the triangular thatch of hair marking the entrance to where he most wanted—most needed—to be. There, inside that magic heat, that delicious wetness, that incredible tightness. Inside Mia.

Was she ready for him?

He sank to his knees. He ran his palms up the length of her smooth thighs, urging her legs to open even wider. Beneath him, her muscles leapt and quivered,
and, as his fingers moved closer and closer to the apex of her thighs, the heat that was Mia built.

He brushed his fingers against her dark curls. They were damp. He closed his eyes briefly as a wave of male satisfaction swamped him. Opening them, he locked his gaze on hers. Slowly, deliberately, he parted her slick folds, slid one and then a second finger inside her, exulting at the tight squeeze of her muscles gripping them and the hot moisture coating them. He set a rhythm, moving in and out in a slow thrust and drag, and watched her eyes widen and then her lids become heavy, weighted with pleasure. His cock lengthened, growing harder still.

Feeling her muscles begin to spasm, he brushed his thumb over her clit, smiling as she moaned and arched against him, urging his fingers to slide deeper. She was close, he knew.

He had to taste her, drink her pleasure as he took her over the edge.

While his thumb slowly circled, he lowered his mouth to the straining nub and gave a slow lick as he thrust his fingers home.