Renegade (21 page)

And then he was kissing her with a desperation she’d never experienced, and she forgot about everything else but his lips, crushing hers.

He tasted glorious. All cinnamon and sweat and salt water. When she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer, he made a sexy noise in the back of his throat, and Becks thought she might happily never take a breath again if they could just keep doing this. She pressed the length of herself against him, and reveled in the shock of pleasure that jolted through her. His firmness was nestled against the very core of her, and she stretched up on her tip-toes to fit their bodies even better.

When he lifted her, she gasped at the suddenness of the movement, but held tightly to his neck. Then they were on the beach, beyond the dunes, and he slowly let her slide back down his body until she was standing unsteadily on her own. He dropped to his knees in front of her, and she didn’t have the chance to wonder why before his hands were on her waistband, unfastening her skirt and drawers. When the garments—heavy now from the water—slithered to her feet, and she stood half-bare to his eyes, they both sucked in a breath together. And then his hands were on her thighs, stroking down towards her knees, leaving goosepimples in their wake.

Mac looked up at her then, and she swore that he looked almost worshipful. Carefully, gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder, as if to offer a benediction, and she saw his eyes close briefly on a shudder. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“No.” She said simply. She wasn’t beautiful, but she liked that he said it.

And then his hands were running back up her legs, and she was wondering how far they’d travel. “You’re so… free.”

She smiled, because he understood. “Here, I can be. So can you.”

In one fluid motion, he was on his feet before her, holding her sodden garments, but not touching her. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I want…”

“What?” She was breathless again.

A wicked look came to those copper eyes, and he slowly, nonchalantly, surveyed the beach and the stunted pine forest beyond. They were completely alone, but not hidden, should anyone pass by. “I want…” He pierced her with his heated gaze, and her stomach tightened. “You, Becks. Now.”

“Here?” It would’ve been a croak, had she enough air left to speak. As it was, it was barely a whisper.

Lord in Heaven, one dark brow rose, and that dimple appeared, and his grin was slow and wicked. “Oh, yes. Here.”

And then he turned and left, stalking back towards the beached dinghy. She had just enough time to draw a disappointed breath, and wonder… when he returned without her clothing. And without his own pants.

The dune wasn’t that tall, but she still saw him unbuttoning his shirt before she noticed his bare legs. When she did, her eyes widened, and her ardor cooled somewhat. He was half-naked. She was half-naked. On a beach, where anyone could see them.

As he approached, she actually took a step back and wondered if her favorite red shirt was long enough to hide herself. It hadn’t mattered a moment before, when he’d helped her remove her skirt, but now it seemed to.

He stopped there, in front of her, and didn’t try to reach for her. Instead, he finished unbuttoning his shirt, and pulled it from his shoulders, and
oh Lord,
he was magnificent. All bronze and proud, tattooed with a smattering of hairs across his chest and shoulders and stomach and—she didn’t let her gaze drop lower, not yet.

His shirt dangling from one hand, he raised a brow at her, and she heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Becks? You’ve stopped breathing.”

She forced herself to nod, and jerked one hand as if to gesture at his nudity.

“Yeah,” he drawled and,
oh God,
stepped closer to her. “Did you suddenly lose your nerve?”

She hadn’t, had she? Becks took a deep breath. No, she still wanted this. Still wanted him. So she swallowed past her dry throat and shook her head. “Do you often… do this?”

“Never.” He smiled wickedly again. “But I’ve always wanted to. And I think that you’re just the woman to do it with me.”

“Why?”

He reached one dark finger out and lightly stroked the skin at the base of her neck, down until he was tugging at the top button of her shirt, nestled between her breasts. “Because you’re tan all over.” She hadn’t been expecting that answer. “I noticed, you know. You’ve got an adventurous side to match mine.” He slowly pushed that button through the hole, and she felt the shirt pop open and his finger slide lower. “I assume you’ve done this before.”

She just shook her head, unable to speak again. She’d
never
stood naked on the beach before, with a man. With a
naked
man.

He shrugged, his copper gaze not leaving her face and he pulled another button free. “Well, you’ve been close enough, then.” She’d done her share of swimming, that was for sure, and it was silly to swim in clothing that she’d just have to wash and dry herself, so she usually didn’t bother… but
this
? No, she’d never done this. She’d never imagined doing this.

She loved this.

As soon as the thought arrived, she knew it was the truth. She loved this freedom, this abandon. She loved that he’d opened her eyes to the liberties she was missing. She loved that he was there to teach her all sorts of things about her body.

She loved him.

Her eyes widened at the realization, and she quickly tried to hide the thought from her face.
Don’t be a ninny, girl. You can’t love him. He’s leaving.
He couldn’t be part of her life, because he didn’t value the people of Beckett the way she did. She couldn’t love him, because he didn’t love the things she did. He was going to walk out of her life, and she was fine with that. She
needed
to be fine with that. She couldn’t love him.

“Becks?”

So she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. She twined her fingers through the waves at the base of his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. She couldn’t love this man. She
didn’t
love this man.

But for this moment, she could be free with him.

Mac showed her what he wanted and how he wanted it, and she was a fast learner. Their tongues mated playfully, until he tore himself away and dropped kisses down her jawline. She arched her back, trusting him to hold her, and let his tongue minister to her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. The sun was bright, but his lips cooled each patch of skin momentarily, until she was shivering with want.

And then he dropped to his knees again, in front of her, and placed kisses all along her stomach and down her thighs and his hand was
there
at the center of her, and he was touching her in just the right way. She felt him stroking, and then he leaned his face closer…and he kissed her.

Her knees buckled, and she would’ve fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her legs at the same time she dropped her hands to his shoulders. He looked up then, that dimple back in his brow and a wicked grin on his lips. “God
damn
, Becks. You’re beautiful.”

No she wasn’t. Pearl was beautiful. He must be confused… and as soon as she could form a coherent sentence, she’d tell him that.

“You’re so wet for me, honey.”

“…’m sorry.” Oh Hell, where’d her brain wander off to? Why couldn’t she think strai—and then his fingers trailed up her inner thigh again, and even that thought was cut off.

She thought he might have laughed, but she was too focused on his fingers, and how close they were, and how much she wanted—
needed
—him inside her again. He’d taught her so much, but she knew there was more.

“Don’t be.” He kissed her again, and it wasn’t as deep as last time, but she still had to wrap her fingers in his hair to stay upright. She’d
read
about this sort of thing, certainly—or at least, Pearl had—but she’d never
imagined
…

And then he’d laid his shirt on the sand, and was pulling her down to sit on his lap. She didn’t need any encouragement, and straddled his hips. Then, arms around his shoulders and breasts pressed against his chest, she lowered herself onto him, around him, and
Good God Almighty,
it felt nice.

It felt
right
.

He groaned, and his head fell back, and she smiled to see his pleasure. Thinking to repay him, she dropped kisses down the column of his throat, liking the way the tiny hairs on his chin tickled her lips and her tongue. When he groaned again and tightened his hold on her, she remembered how she’d moved last night. She rose up slightly, and slid back down him again, and those perfect copper eyes opened wide and pierced her with a look that was almost reverent. So she did it again.

And then she untangled her legs from beneath herself, and wrapping them around his hips, pulled them even closer together. They sat there, on his shirt, under the Edisto afternoon sun, and he taught her how to rock against him again and again.

It was lovely. It was comforting.

It wasn’t enough.

She pulled herself against him, loving the way his sweat-slicked back felt under her palms. Loving the way he tasted, loving the way he cradled her backside with his thighs, loving the way he managed not to break off their kiss.

But the heat between her thighs became impatient. She needed more. This was beautiful, like last night was, but she needed… more.

“Mac!” Could she help it that it came out a gasp, when she pulled her lips from his? “I need…”

She didn’t know how to finish that thought. But he did. “I know, honey.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “But I wanted to take it slow. To make you burn…”

“Oh God, Mac!” Becks kept rocking, his words alone enough to make their joining slicker. To make her burn. “You…” She was close to panting. “Please.”

That was all she could manage, and luckily he understood.

With another groan, he clasped her to him, and flipped them both over, until her back was pressed against the thin cotton and warm sand. She loosened her legs’ hold on him, and he braced his arms on either side of her and took command.

She’d thought last night was incredible? This was… this was like nothing she could’ve imagined. He possessed her. He controlled her. He drove into her again and again while she held on to his beautifully-inked arms and torso and let his heat fill her.

It was glorious. It was primal.

It was freeing.

He pushed her ever closer to the precipice, and when she finally reached the edge, she tightened her hold on him once more, squeezing him with every fiber of her being, willing him to become one with her.

Her pleasure exploded tightly, and she held her breath behind compressed lips as it rolled through her and across her skin and out into him. Mac gave two more thrusts, and then threw his head back and roared wordlessly.

It was the most incredible experience of her life, and he’d shared it with her. He’d
given
it to her. For this one perfect day, he was hers, and he’d brought her more pleasure than she could’ve imagined. And she’d reduced him to a barbarian, roaring on the beach over a woman, where anyone could see.

It was a heady realization… or perhaps that lightheadedness was because she still hadn’t taken a full breath.

He dropped to one elbow beside her, and she went with him, unwilling to break contact before she had to.

He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were closed, but he still pulled her closer to him. There they lay, listening to the sounds of the water against the sand and the wind in the palmettos, and she marveled at the feel of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

She
didn’t
love him. She couldn’t love him. But she loved this. This freedom, this inhibition. This primitiveness.

This perfect moment.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“This is beautiful.” She was draped across him, one finger tracing the inked compass rose over his heart. The sand was itchy under his bare buttocks—where
had
his shirt scooted off to, anyhow?—and the sun was bright on his face, but Mac wouldn’t’ve traded places with anyone else in the world at that moment. It was one of those gorgeous Lowcountry afternoons when the clouds flitted across the sky, high enough that he could barely feel the breeze that pushed them. Becks was in his arms, was caressing him. What more could he ask for? He shifted his forearm under his head and smiled slightly at her soft touch.

“Where’d you get it?”

“London. The best tattoo artists are there.” There and New York City, but he’d never been north of the Mason-Dixon in his life, and had no plans to.

“You thought you might need a compass with you at all times?” She moved slightly, and he felt her skin sucking against his, slick with sweat and gritty with sand and altogether perfect.

“Nah.” His eyes were closed, but he could feel her tracing the tattoo again. “No good sailor is without a compass at all times.” He shrugged a little, and then caught her when the motion threatened to dislodge her. “But I might’ve been afraid of losing my way.”

He felt more than heard her
Hmmmm
as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “And you thought a compass would help?”

“No.” He had to be honest with her. With himself. “But the waves and the palmetto weren’t working anymore.”

He thought she might have nodded slightly, and he marveled at finding a woman who understood. Finding
anyone
who understood.

“And this?” He remembered the little shop the artist worked out of, and how many of the compass rose designs in his book had stars at all eight elaborate points. But his had just the one, in place of the “N”. The one she was caressing now.

“That’s
Polaris
.”

“Your north star?”

Another smile. “Yeah. She’s been with me awhile.”

“You think she’s your guiding point, don’t you?” He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to say anything. She understood. “But she’s not.” Mac didn’t have time to wonder what she meant. “The
Polaris
represents freedom, and it’s that freedom that keeps you from losing your way. Your goal.”

He shifted his forearm until it was supporting the back of his skull, tucked his chin down and was able to look at her, sprawled across him. “You’re a remarkable woman, Becks Middleton.”

Propping her chin up on his chest, she turned those fascinating blue eyes to him. “But even that doesn’t really mean anything. Everyone wants freedom—we had a war about it, for Goodness’ sakes. But what is it that you
really
want?”

He couldn’t look away. Not from her. Not from those eyes, as clear as a beautiful day at sea. “I want…” A swallow, and then he tried again. “Not to be told what to do. I want control over my life and my future.”

He felt her other hand lightly caressing his right bicep, where he’d had his personal mantra inked. “’Call No Man Master’?”

It was how he lived his life. It was
why
he lived the life he did. He didn’t have to answer to anyone, or follow anyone’s rules. He—and Robert—called no man master.

He’d fought hard for that mantra over the years. Forget the War… he’d had his own battles to fight.

But she wasn’t done examining his thoughts yet.

“I don’t call any man master, either.”

His grin was rueful. “I can’t conceive of a situation in which you—or your mother or sister, for that matter—would call
any
man ‘master’.”

“
I
have control over my life and my future, but I’m not free.”

“You’re the freest woman I’ve ever met.” That much, at least, he was able to admit. He didn’t have to tear his gaze away to see the scrub wax myrtle and the palmettos and the dune, and know that any passersby—as rare as they might be—would see them.

She smiled slightly, and he felt her chin digging into him, not unpleasantly. “I have obligations to my people, and they have obligations to me, and we rely on each other. I love them, and I love Beckett, and it’s that love that makes it okay to be tied to them.”

I love Beckett
. It was an… intriguing thought, but Mac pushed it away before he could let himself dwell on it.

“Being tied down…”

“That’s why you say you don’t want to get married.” She seemed quick to clarify. “I mean, you think being married would tie you in one place.”

“It would. It’s pretty much the opposite of being free.”
Dammit, Mac, why would you say that to her?

But she just smiled and poked him with one finger. “I know you don’t want to be married, and that’s fine. But I’m just trying to tell you that being tied down isn’t so bad.”

“I don’t—” He didn’t know what he’d been planning to say.

“You’re tied down now.” He raised a brow, and she smiled. “You’re tied to your ship, to your crew. They rely on you, and you love them, and her, in your own way. Would you abandon them?”

“No.” It didn’t bear considering.

“Then you’re still not completely free.”

“I’m free enough.”

She nodded, and he felt her arms snake around his sides, brushing sand from his skin. “It’s that love that makes you free, Mac. You have to have something to love, something to believe in. I have Beckett. You have the
Polaris
.”

She was right. He’d spent years as captain of his own vessel, and he considered that “free enough.” The
Polaris
was his, and she represented all of his hard work to get out from under his father’s legacy. But Becks… Becks was even freer. She was free to live the life she wanted with no one looking over her shoulder. Free to do what she wished, and ignore anyone who told her it wasn’t proper. And she’d built a haven where the people around her could be free, too.

Where he could be free with her.

I could love Beckett
.

Before he could investigate that intriguing thought, she spoke again. “You think you can only be free on the
Polaris
, with the little kingdom you’ve built—legally and not—but that’s not true either. It’s the love that makes you free.”

And then she tucked her chin against his chest again, and left him to consider her words. He surely did love his ship, and the life she let him lead. Before Becks, though, he wouldn’t have called it love. But now that she said it, he didn’t think there was any shame in admitting that he was proud of—
liked
, even—the life he’d built. The life he’d built without help, and in spite of the rules that told him he shouldn’t.

His free arm tightened around her, and he tried not to get too aroused by the way she wiggled against him. For God’s sakes, she’d been a virgin last night! He wouldn’t have considered making love to her again, but she’d been… well, he’d be lying to himself if he called her insistent, because truthfully, she hadn’t asked him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Didn’t want to do
badly
. Didn’t want to do
again
right now.

Her intensity from the night before—and then again in the dinghy—told him that she wanted this as much as he did. And that she wasn’t thinking about the future, either. It was like she wanted this here and now, and he was more than willing to oblige her. He planned on teaching her a
lot
more about her body and her pleasure, before she decided that this—whatever “this” was—was over.

Mac was wondering if he should broach the subject, or just let her figure out his body’s interest on her own, when she spoke again. “And that love is infinite, Mac. You could share it with something besides your ship, you know. You could find something bigger, a
place
to love as much as I love Beckett. And then you’d have a future, but still be free.”

He smiled slightly. “I don’t think there’s anybody in the world who could love Beckett as much as you do, Rebecca Beckett.”

He felt her smile at his teasing tone. “You know what I mean.”

Yeah, he did. He saw it in his own brother. Holt had been raised knowing that Baird’s Cove and its people would one day be his… and then the War Between the States changed everything. And nothing. Baird’s Cove was still Holt’s, and Mac suspected his brother loved it as much as Becks loved her home. But the people were a different matter. Holt didn’t
own
them… he
owed
them. Between that screwed-up sense of obligation, and the shit that happened to him at Petersburg, Holt was a far cry from the brother Mac’d grown up with.

But Becks and Beckett were… different. They were safe. And free.

And he envied that.

He pulled his arm out from under his head and wrapped it around her, pulling her up his sweat-slicked chest. She giggled, and when he could reach her forehead, he dropped a kiss on it. She pushed herself up on her elbows, and he thought he could die happy, if only she’d brush her nipples against his again. Had he once thought she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? He couldn’t recall any more desirable; that was for certain.

“Becks, you sure are something special.” His cock was in agreement, and he wondered if she could tell.

Sandy-blonde hair draped down around her face, cocooning them both, and her sky-blue eyes were teasing. He felt like she was his own personal beach, his own personal ocean. He could get lost in her.

“I want you to know that I’ve always dreamed of making love to a woman on a beach like this.” He squeezed her a little tighter, and she smiled and lowered herself until her breasts were pushed against him. “You’re the first woman brave enough to try it.”

“Well, you’ve been fulfilling all sorts of
my
fantasies.” He was? “So it’s only fair we satisfy a few of yours.” She lowered her face until their lips were only a few breaths apart.

“Oh,” he drawled, stretching up to kiss her and then pulling back almost immediately, “I’m nowhere close to being satisfied.”

A slow smile crept across those gorgeous lips, and she shifted her hips until the most delicate part of him was nestled against her belly. “I can tell.”

With a bark of laughter, he cradled her to him, and rolled to his feet in one smooth motion. She shrieked and clung to his shoulders, and pretended outrage when he refused to put her down. Instead, he strode over the dune, towards the dinghy.

“Mac! Mac, honestly! What are you doing?”

He dropped kisses along her jaw, and then nuzzled that delicious spot where her neck met her shoulder. “I’m satisfying all of my fantasies.”

“What, all of them?” Was that laughter he heard in her voice or was she breathless from desire?

“Well, how long do you have? At least one more for now.” They were at the water’s edge now, and he felt the incoming tide lapping against his ankles.

“What are you…?” Oh, she was definitely distracted now, as Mac lifted her higher to reach her breast, tonguing a small circle around one erect nipple.

“We’re going swimming.” The water was up past his knees now.

She pulled away, her gaze sharp once more. “Now? Here?” His grin was wicked, and he nodded. “It’s still too cold!”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“How can…?” He slid her down his body, until she was standing before him, and captured her mouth in a deep kiss. His hands roamed freely, and it was the last words she spoke for a long while.

And then they went swimming.