Skin Deep (15 page)

And then she shattered.

“Oh,
my God
!” She came with a cry, arching off the bed, her body shaken apart by a wave of liquid bliss that seemed to roll on forever. Her vagina clenched around his fingers, the feeling of being stretched and filled adding to the intensity.

And then she was floating.

She lay there, breathless and weak and more than a little astonished. She’d just had the best orgasm of her life—with a man.

With Nate.

She opened her eyes and found him looking up at her from between her thighs, his left hand casually playing with the curls on her pubic mound, his lips pressing kisses to her inner thighs. She felt a hitch in her chest, a surge of tenderness for him, this man who had done so much for her. She didn’t understand him—why he’d been so kind to her, why he cared so much—but she was grateful for every moment she’d spent with him.

She reached for him, wanting to give him the pleasure he’d given her, willing to endure the suffocating sensation of having him on top of her, of feeling his weight press down on her, of having his penis stabbing inside her.

But rather than stretching himself out above her, he caught her up in his arms and rolled onto his back, carrying her with him, settling her on top of him, drawing her mouth down to meet his. As if he knew, as if he understood…

Her own musky, wild taste filled her mouth, his kiss demanding everything, taking everything. And she gave—willingly. His body shook with unspent sexual tension, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly, still trapped inside the cloth of his boxer briefs.

Eager to bring him the same pleasure he’d brought her, she kissed her way down the midline of his body to the dark trail of curls that disappeared beneath his briefs. She closed her fingers over the waistband and lifted it over his erection, tugging his briefs down his muscular thighs and dropping them on the floor.

Awed by the sight of him, she stared down at his naked body—and distinctly felt her womb clench. For so long, she’d believed she never wanted to see a penis again, but Nate’s body didn’t feel like enemy territory. It was
his
body—primal, male, beautiful. And it seemed to her that she was seeing a naked man for the first time.

His penis was thick and long, its purplish tip engorged, its satiny skin gleaming. His testicles lay heavy against his thighs, the sac sprinkled with dark curls. The IED hadn’t wounded him here, but it had come terribly close, searing the skin off his hip and upper thigh.

She took him in hand, stroked the length of him from tip to root, gratified by his gasp, by the way his hips jerked at her touch. He was so hard in her hand, the skin velvety soft, a bead of moisture appearing from the slit as she moved her hand up the length of him once more.

He reached down, stilled her hand, his gaze meeting hers. “If you don’t stop now, honey, I’m going to embarrass myself. I want to be inside you, Megan. Can you trust me that much?”

She set aside her fear—for him. “Yes.”

He reached toward his bedside table, opened a little drawer, and pulled out a…

Condom.

He tore it open, the odor of latex hitting her in the face, reminding her of another place, another time—other men.

“No.” The word was out before she realized she’d spoken. “Please, I can’t…”

His brows knotted in a frown, but he nodded, tossing the small package into a small trash bin. Then he reached for her, settled her astride him. But he didn’t try to enter her. Instead, he grasped her hips and guided her so that she rubbed against the hard length of his erection. “Use my cock this time instead of your fingers.”

She balanced her weight on her palms, her fingers splayed on his chest, flexing her hips, dragging herself from the root of his cock to the tip and down again, heat reigniting inside her.

“Oh, Megan, honey.” His hands found her breasts again, his fingers tormenting her nipples as she found a rhythm.

She opened her eyes, looked down, and watched herself slide over him, the sight intensely erotic and arousing, her labia enfolding him, his penis glistening with her wetness. And she found herself nearing an unbelievable second climax.

But then she moved her hips an inch too far forward. No longer held down, his cock sprang up, its head poised against her entrance.

She froze.

He grasped her hips. “It’s up to you.”

For a moment, Megan felt like she stood on the brink of some new threshold. She looked into his eyes—and chose Nate.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, her moan mingling with his as his cock filled her inch by hard inch. There was no stabbing pain, only satisfying fullness, a slick, sweet stretch. And as she took all of him inside her a thought struck her, making her breath catch, bringing tears to her eyes.

This is how it’s supposed to be.

She looked down into a gaze that burned with need. “Oh, Nate!”

He reached up, brushed a tear from her cheek. “Are you okay, honey?”

She nodded, smiled through her tears—and began to move.

He let out a shuddering breath, his muscles tensing as she ground herself against him. He reached down, grasped her hips, helping to guide her motions, his voice a ragged whisper as he urged her on. “God, yes, honey, ride me!”

Oh, and it was perfect!

She’d never dreamed she would experience this, had never believed it was possible for her to be with a man like this, had never known it could
feel
like this—the slippery friction of him inside her, the erotic ache of being filled, the thrum of naked joy in her chest. Each thrust felt better than the one before, left her desperate for the next, as he began to match her rhythm, driving into her from beneath, the powerful motions of his hips pushing her closer to the brink.

“
Geezus
!” His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed as if he were in pain.

And she knew he was in pain, the same kind of pleasure-pain she felt—precious torment, sweet distress, torturous bliss.

She wanted it to end. She wanted it to last forever.

She moved faster, his thrusts syncing with her movements, his cock striking some sensitive place deep inside her. And then it hit her.

“Nate!” She cried out his name, tears spilling down her cheeks as orgasm claimed her once more, golden waves of pleasure washing through her, a baptism of sunlight, making the world new again.

But Nate was right behind her. He groaned, his eyes drifting shut, his body shuddering as he came inside her with deep, hard thrusts.

She collapsed onto him, kissed his chest, the left side slick with sweat. He wrapped his arms around her, drew her close, one hand stroking her hair, his heart thrumming in his chest, both of them breathless.

And as sex cooled into sleep, he kissed her tears away.

N
ate checked the girth one last time, made sure the traces were secure, then slipped his hands into his gloves and took the reins from Chuck, who’d helped him hitch Buckwheat to the sleigh. “Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. Have a good time.” Chuck turned back toward the bunkhouse, his gaze lingering on Megan for one moment too long.

Nate and Megan had gone into town with Chuck early this morning to pick up supplies. While Nate had focused on the grocery list his dad had given him, Megan had picked up a packet of emergency contraception, together with a package of spermicidal sponges, their only option for protection between now and when she got a chance to go to the clinic next week. It had bothered Nate to find the foreman watching Megan’s every move—something he wondered if he should mention next time he was alone with Chuck.

Nate climbed into the sleigh beside Megan, reins in hand. He looked back over his shoulder to where Emily sat beside his dad, bundled in a bright pink snowsuit and covered with a thick sheepskin. “Are you ready back there?”

“Are you waiting for Christmas to get this show on the road?” his dad barked. “I’ve got a little girl back here who’s hungry for some s’mores, isn’t that right, Miss Emily?”

“Go, Buckwheat!” Emily’s tiny voice rang like crystal in the cold mountain air.

Nate shared a smile with Megan, gave Buckwheat a little cluck—and they were off.

The gelding tugged at the traces, his hooves churning up snow as he pulled the little sleigh forward. A tap with the reins, and Buckwheat moved into a trot, the bells on his breast harness jingling merrily.

It was a perfect day. The sun shone down on a landscape of sparkling white, the pine trees garlanded with snow, the high peaks thrusting their summits against the endless Colorado sky. But it wasn’t the weather that had set Nate’s heart to soaring. Credit for that went to the woman sitting beside him.

Nate looked over at Megan and felt a hitch in his chest. She was laughing, a bright smile on her face, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, his mother’s old ski hat on her head.

She looked over at him, speaking loudly to be heard above the bells and rustling of the sleigh’s runners through the snow. “I’ve never been in a sleigh before!”

“I promised you a sleigh ride, didn’t I? When I make a promise, I keep it.”

She ducked her head in an adorably shy way, still smiling. “Yes, you do.”

He’d awoken early this morning to find her asleep in his arms, her head pillowed on the right side of his chest. He’d lain there, watching her until the urge to kiss her had become too strong to resist. Then he’d kissed her awake, the two of them making love in the shower, Nate backing her up against the marble tiles, wrapping her legs around his waist, and driving into her until she’d cried out his name. When they had finished showering—and kissing on the bed—she’d gone to her room to get dressed. They’d gone down to breakfast separately, her cheeks flushing bright pink when his dad arched his eyebrows at the two of them and asked whether they’d gotten a good night’s sleep.

Subtlety had never been old man’s greatest strength, but Nate was in too good a mood to deck him.

Megan was a miracle.

Nate didn’t know how else to describe it. He’d met her, and his world had changed. Last night had been the single most amazing night of his life. He’d reveled in watching her come alive under his touch, had been humbled by the depth of her trust, had found himself with a huge lump in his throat when she’d come, tears spilling down her cheeks. And when at last he’d climaxed inside her, he had felt reborn.

Though he knew he ought to slow down, he couldn’t keep himself from imagining a future with her, the two of them raising Emily together here at the Cimarron, teaching her to ride, maybe giving Emily a sister or brother one day.

“Look!” Megan pointed toward a dark shadow among the trees.

“A bull elk.”

“Do you see that, Miss Emily?” Nate’s dad asked.

“A deer,” Emily offered.

“Nope, he’s an elk. Can you say elk?”

“Ewk.”

“Good enough.”

The animal—a big guy with a six-point rack—took a good look at them and darted deeper into the forest, probably frightened by the bells.

Nate turned to Megan. “It’s been a long time since we’ve hitched up this sleigh—since before my mother died.”

“This is magical.” She slipped her gloved hand out from beneath the blanket he’d wrapped around her and tucked it in his lap. “I feel like I’m in a living Christmas card.”

“And it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” He found himself smiling again.

He turned Buckwheat toward the snow-packed lane that led to their destination—the stone picnic shelter he and his dad had built when Nate was sixteen. It had a slanted roof, a flagstone floor, an enormous fireplace, four walls and two windows, but the door and windows were wide open, letting the outdoors in. Nate’s dad had packed a lunch of fried chicken and potato salad, but what they were all looking forward to was the hot chocolate and the s’mores.

“It’s so beautiful up here, so peaceful.”

Nate looked over, smiled at the look of wonder on Megan’s face. “You’re welcome to come up here any time, you know. I hope you will.”

Her smile grew tight, and she looked away.

# # #

Megan couldn’t remember the last time she’d had more fun. They ate their picnic lunch before a roaring fire that Nate built, then made s’mores, a treat Megan hadn’t enjoyed since she’d been a little girl at church camp. After the marshmallows and chocolate were gone, they built a snowman. Then Jack let Emily show him how to make snow angels. Before they were finished, Emily had them all making snow angels, and the meadow around the picnic shelter was covered with them.

Yet, through it all, some part of Megan was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’d never been this happy. All of her dreams had seemed to come true overnight, every closely guarded longing in her heart fulfilled. A deep sense of safety. A man who accepted her despite her past, who seemed truly to care about her and Emily—and who came with a built-in grandfather for Emily. Soul-shattering sex.

Though she told herself that she had every right to be happy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dream was about to end. Nate would realize he could do better than an ex-con for a lover. Or Jack would put his foot down and tell his son that it was one thing to give her a safe place to stay for the weekend but quite another to get involved with her. Or the cops would show up, tell her they’d uncovered an old arrest warrant for some case she’d caught eons ago and arrest her in front of everyone.

She tried to silence the negative thoughts as they climbed aboard the sleigh and headed back to the house, the beauty of the mountains and the cheery sound of the sleigh bells lulling her fears to sleep.

They reached the house late in the afternoon. While Nate took care of the horse and sleigh, Megan put Emily down for a nap and began to pack their things, getting ready for the long drive back to Denver, her anxiety returning. She’d just closed her suitcase when he came up behind her.

“I wish you could stay.” He spoke softly so as not to wake Emily, his arms going around her waist, drawing her back against him.