Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (34 page)

He crouched down. His rough hands experimented with the white lace, the russet swath covering her sex a shadow beneath the swirling design. "Pretty panties." He brushed her there with his fingertips, then lower.

She gripped the edge of the vanity. "Oh God, Rafe." The catch in her voice and her sigh would be his undoing. Devastatingly sensual, laced with surrender, it invaded his bloodstream, hot and consuming.

He caressed her, the sudden dampness through her lace panties made him dizzy with desire, and he rose to his feet. Deliberately wedging his thigh between her pale, shapely legs, he marveled at the silky sexiness of her. He lowered his head and kissed her neck, his lips grazing her ear. "Bren, honey, take a shower with me?" He rocked his thigh up higher between her legs. The tiny sound of pleasure she made had him reaching behind him. Rafe slid the shower door and fumbled with the cold metal of the faucet. It squeaked, and the hard pressure of shower spray filled the tight bathroom.

"Rafe?" There was a note somewhere between pleasure and distress in her voice.

He turned around.

She chewed on her bottom lip and moved away. "Maybe it'd be best if you..."

His eyes searched hers. "What's up, Red? Do I frighten you?"

Making love to him was a damn huge step for her.

"Come here." Her pretty lips thinned, and he pulled her toward him. She fell into him, her fingers slipping into his crisp, dark chest hairs. His pulse quickened.

She held his gaze. Her hand moving across his stomach, she moved lower, dipping her hand inside his underwear.

He pulled in a jagged breath. "You know what?" He strove for calm, which was increasingly difficult considering she was stroking him from root to tip. "I've got a real thing for girls who don't frighten easy." He kissed her then, his hand slipping behind her back, fingers working the clasp of her bra until it gave, and the straps fell down her shoulders.

She released his dick, and he groaned. She slipped her hands between the two of them, resting them tentatively on his pecs, looping her arms around his neck.

"Truth or dare, darlin'." All he needed to do was step back. But he didn't need to worry about making a move. Dare was on his side. She'd choose to lose the bra before she'd admit she had fallen for a cowboy.

She gave his chest hairs a tight pull.

"Ow." He frowned down at her and rubbed his chest.

"Not funny." Her eyes flared. "A woman who hasn't done it in a long time could get carried away and hurt you."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I was kind of hoping for that."

"Were you?" A well-shaped brow arced in challenge.

"Yes, ma'am." He slid the bra off her arms. Soft, jiggly breast pressed up against him. He lowered his head and closed his mouth over hers. Her mouth was warm and soft and incredibly sweet. He touched her tongue. Hot sparks rocketed him, and his balls grew unbearably tight.

He stood back. She was lovely—lush smooth skin, toned lithe body. His fingers and mind tingled. He cupped her breasts, pale and full and perfect in his hands. He ran his thumbs over her nipples—extended and pink and vying for his attention. "You're beautiful." He flicked them with his tongue.

She drew in a short breath and placed her hands on his shoulders, her fingertips working their heat through his skin. He moved lower, kissing her stomach above the lacy edge of her panties, his fingers hooking into each side. He pulled them off.

Tight, sexy legs trembled beneath his rough palms, and he couldn't get enough of her ivory skin against the bronze of his working-man's hands. His fingers ran the length of her silky legs, her hips, to rest on her small waist. He came to his feet. His eyes swept her, taking in every contour and curve, his finger tracing the edge of the soft, thin delta of russet curls.

He couldn't move. But his mind reeled. His heart raced.

"Not what you expected." Her face grew flushed, and she turned away from him.

Shit.
He wanted to kick himself for giving her the impression she was less than perfect. Not his intention. If anything she took his breath away.

"Hold up." He grabbed her by the waist and turned her toward him. She struggled, and he tightened his grip. "Don't rush me."The crush of their bodies, and the tender breathless way in which her eyes caressed his face, sent a rush of heat surging up his belly that spread through him, scorching his heart. "Cowboys are slow—methodical."

Her gorgeous brown eyes flickered, changed, and fastened on him.

He stroked her cheek, warm and rosy with maybe a combination of embarrassment and anger. "Bren, I'm not pretty with words. All I know is you're better than any birthday or Christmas present combined, and I want to take my time unwrapping you."

"I think you've done that."

"Yes I have." He held her tighter. "Now I'm going to tinker with my gift. Touch her." He ran his hand down her spine. "Tease her." He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and the little gasp she tried to hide made him grin. "And kiss her." He lowered his head and dropped a hard kiss on her mouth. Pulling back, he held her eyes with his.

She rolled her kissable lips in a considering kind of way, but remained silent. No problem. Talking was optional. He opened the shower door and drew her under the water.

She squealed, "Damn it, Rafe!" Her lips sputtered with water, her legs unsteady

He held onto her until she got her bearings. Her skin shimmered under the water. Dark, wet shafts of hair clung to the rise of her breasts, soft and provocative. She was intoxicating, and he wanted his hands on her flesh with an intensity that drove him senseless.

"Hang tight," he said, his voice thick with need, and shed his underwear. He stepped in, the heat of the water prickling his skin like pins and needles.

She had already ripped off the wrapper of the purple puff thing and began soaping it up, giving him her shapely back.

He kissed her neck and wrapped his arms around her. Reaching for her hands, he took the soap and puff from her. "Let me wash you, darlin'." He started at the base of her neck, slow, circular motions over her delicate shoulder blades, past the curve of her waist, and took his time over her soft, round rump. Crouching behind her, he held her hips in place and took a nip of her tender flesh with his teeth.

She moaned and turned, giving him access to swirling russet wet curls. He washed her there, messaging the soapy puff between her thighs. As the warm water rinsed the soap from the soft curls, he kissed her mound. Wet and warm, she smelled of soap and woman, and his body grew hot and heavy.

He stood and let his erection brush her there, and the contact inflamed him. Taking the puff, he continued to explore her sensual curves, letting the soapy iridescent bubbles glide over her skin. When he came to her breasts, he touched them lightly with the puff. Her nipples grew stiff, and he lowered his head and rubbed his scratchy cheek against the pale slope of her breasts. He kissed them, the water streaming over her, sensual rivers slick beneath his lips.

She cupped his head and brought it up. "My turn." Her eyes, huge and dark, rested on his face. She took the puff and made arcs across his chest, the roughness of it snagging his nipples, he stilled her hands with his.

"You're going to make me—"

"Come?" Her eyes rested on him—swollen and erect. "I want you to come." She touched him with the puff, swirling his pubic hair, the soap running down his legs.

He quelled her hands and took it from her. Dragging her head up, he kissed her. Slanting his mouth over her sweet, pliable lips until she opened her mouth to him, he licked his way in. She was warm, her lips tasting of soap. He delved deeper, caressing the inside of her mouth.

She suckled his lips, tugging, and the suction she created drove him insane. Her breasts grazed his chest, and he broke the kiss. Pert pink nipples begged his attention, and he laved them with his tongue.

Her fingers pressed into his head. "Rafe," she moaned. "Oh Rafe, please take me." Her hands moved down his back, stroking him, her fingers pressing hard into his muscles.

The small shower made her request a challenge, but he'd never backed down from one yet. He spun her around. Kissing her neck, then her ear, he grated through clenched teeth, his voice thick. "I'm going to take you from behind." He kneaded her buttocks.

She nodded. "Just don't stop."

He couldn't have anyway. She was all he ever wanted, could ever hope for in a woman. No matter how they'd come to this point, he wouldn't apologize for where they ended up.

She was his. He felt protective, possessive, wildly territorial. And he knew as long as he lived, he'd want her the rest of his days.

He tilted his hips forward and nestled his erection in the cleft of her cheeks. He kissed the nape of her neck, taking love bites as he went. He stroked her breast and teased her nipple taut. His hand slid past her flat stomach and cupped her sex, his finger sliding inside her. He moved them, gently stroking the little nub until she whimpered and pressed the side of her face against the shower wall.

Her profile, smooth as sweet cream, glistened under the shower spray. Her cheeks, flushed and perfectly sculpted, were a masterpiece of beauty against black, dense lashes, wet and fluttering shut.

He pressed a string of kisses along the delicate curve of her jaw, while his finger continued to stroke her, tease her. She was wet, her muscles clenching his finger, and her hips began to move against his palm in rhythmic motions.

She bit down on her lower lip. "I want you inside me, now." Her voice was husky.

"Not yet."

Her hands flattened on the shower enclosure. He removed his finger and wrapped his arm around her waist. Holding tight, he positioned himself. He drove into her slowly, the sensation utterly soul-shattering. "God, Bren, you feel so good." He kissed her cheek.

"Love me, Rafe." She said it in a soft, urgent voice.

"I do, darlin'." He held her hand with his against the wall, and he thrust into her again. "God help me. I do." His words were choppy as he tried to hold on to his slipping control.

He continued to rock them toward a tumultuous orgasm. The curve of her tight bottom undulated against his thrusts in perfect rhythm.

"Oh, Rafe, don't stop. Please don't stop. It feels so... right... so amazing..." She took a deep breath through her nose and bit down on those perfectly shaped lips, so wet and sexy.

He groaned with the need to kiss them hard and senseless. Her body began to tremble, and he held her snug to him, letting the warm shower spray pelt his back.

"Rafe," she moaned. Her body convulsed in his arms. "Oh God, Rafe, Rafe..."

He thrust deeper. "Bren." His voice was hoarse, and he buried his mouth into the hollow of her neck. He kissed her and continued to seek his own release. His body shuddered, and he came violently. Breathing in gasps, he spun her around, enveloping her in his arms.

Slick and wet and warm, she rested against him. "Hold me."

His arms tightened around her. "I wasn't planning on letting go, honey."

She lifted her head, her eyes voluminous, lids heavy.

He caressed her cheek and eyed her speculatively. "Love me, Rafe?" It came out half amused, half questioningly. "Is that something you normally say during the height of lovemaking? Or did you really mean it?"

"I don't usually say things I don't mean."

"Is that the best you can do?"

She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. He kissed her back and shook her playfully. The undeniable curve of her mouth against his told him she was enjoying his pain. His lips moved against hers. "Call me old-fashioned, darlin'. But I want to hear the words."

His one eye opened. Her eyes remained closed, and she was content in kissing him back. Rafe broke off the kiss.

Her eyes sprang open, and she laughed. "You're awfully concerned about this." She pulled him toward her. "Isn't it obvious how I feel about you?" She ran her palms over him until they rested on his shoulders. One small hand slipped to the back of his neck, nudging him forward, pulling him to eye level with her. Her eyes were intent, serious, and all for him. "I love you, Rafe. So much it hurts, baby."

He kicked his conscience to the dirt, closed his ears to honesty, and concentrated on the here and now and kissed her breathless.

The truth could wait. Dealing with a hellion who could do pissed-off in a heartbeat was best handled on American soil. For now he only wanted to take her to bed, cuddle next to her until he fell asleep.

T
he trip back to Maryland had Bren reassessing her next move. She had all but agreed to herself and Rafe in Mexico that she needed to stop her obsession with trying to prove Wes killed Tom before her boys lost both their parents.

Being back in her house since returning two days ago with her boys and her father made her acutely aware how much her family meant to her. God she'd missed them. After seeing her boys off to bed last night, she promised herself—no more drama.

Then there was work. Her three-day absence couldn't have come at a worse time. She'd left Jo to handle the clinic while Jeremy remained in Kentucky at an annual meeting he looked forward to every year in preparation for the Kentucky Derby. It was time she concentrated on being reliable, and it started with relieving Jo.

Rafe pulled his pickup into the equine vet parking lot and parked. The mundane life at the clinic she would take over jumping borders any day.

"Red." Bren didn't miss the apprehension in Rafe's voice. He reached out and squeezed her thigh. The pressure of his fingertips, warm and assuring, radiated right through her jeans.

She lifted her head, not surprised to find a pair of brooding green eyes leveled with challenge.

"Sleep is the last thing I need."

He tightened incrementally on her thigh. "You're relying on anger to get you through this."

She stiffened. "I'm not going to forget what Wes did to me."

Before he could object, Bren raised her hand. "I already agreed to let Kevin handle Wes. Except for the horses in Grace's care, documenting their condition and testifying in court, I'm hands-off." As much as it pained her, it was for the best. If she'd learned anything in Mexico, it was what was truly important. She only hoped Wes's attorney didn't finagle his release.