Burning Up (18 page)

Oh, God.
Her lips opened and her tongue stole out to give them a lick. Extending its tip the tiniest bit farther, she curled a come-get-me gesture at Gabriel, then drew it back inside, shivering at the brush of moisture along the slick lining of her upper lip as it retracted.

He groaned. “Jesus. I can’t believe how fast you can reduce me to a randy teenager without even trying.” Bending his head, he rasped the flat of his tongue over her nipple. His gaze still locked on her face, he clamped his mouth over it.

An inarticulate sound exploded from her throat and she writhed beneath the attention he lavished on it with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Not until she
was nearly mindless did he let her nipple pop free and roll them onto their sides. At the nudge of his knee, she spread her legs, locking them around the thigh he immediately pushed into the newly opened space. He sank his long fingers into her butt to direct the movement of her hips, making her realize her hands were free. She gripped his shoulders and kissed him back when he rocked soft, suctioning lips over hers.

Feeling her last bit of control dissolve, she pulled back. “Again,” she panted. “I want you in me again.”

“In a minute,” he murmured. Tipping her onto her back, he trailed his fingertips over her breasts and down her diaphragm to her navel. His fingers circled there for a moment before continuing their descent over the slight curve of her stomach to head south.

But then they halted and she arched her pelvis to encourage the continued downward momentum.

With a muffled chuckle, he complied, stroking his fingers into the golden-brown fleece between her legs, insinuating a fingertip into the creamy crease separating the plump lips of her labia.

One touch of that rough-skinned pad slicking over her clitoris and Macy’s world exploded around her. A high-pitched keening purled from her throat as she thrust her hips high. Sensations flashed and pulsated and tiny pops of color burst behind her closed eyelids. “Oh, gawwwwwwd,” she moaned as he continued feathering his fingertip over the turgid little bundle of nerves. “OhGodohGodohGodohGod.”

Gabe tore his mouth free and his gaze honed in on his fingertip, where it rubbed gentle circles in that sweet little slit.

“Not quite a scream,” he growled as her hips collapsed back onto the mattress, leaving his hand high and—

Well, not dry, he thought with a crooked smile, lowering it to grip her smooth, lax thigh. “Still, a satisfying sound all ’round. And baby?” He grabbed another condom from the chest. “I guess this isn’t just for you after all.” Pushing higher on his elbows, he gave her another rough kiss, then rose to his knees and tore the wrapper open.

She cracked an eye open. For a second she merely stared, her gaze locked on the naked thrust of his cock. Then she slowly swallowed. “I take it back. Well, either that or the angle from here is creating an optical illusion. Because it’s not really as big as it appears, right?”

“Hell, yeah, it is.” Wrapping his hand around himself, he gave it a stroke, a get-real sound escaping his throat. “You’re not looking at it through your side-view mirror, honey.” He shook his head. “Like any guy would voluntarily cop to his dick being
smaller
than it appears.”

She guffawed and her gaze, which had dropped once more to closely observe his hand action, returned to his face. “Good point.” Pushing up onto her own knees, she looped her arms around his neck and stretched to press a kiss against the angle of his
chin. Then she relaxed her posture, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest.

“Thank you,” she said in a low voice. “For…you know.” She twirled a vague hand at the sheets, avoiding his eyes as her cheeks, which had been regaining their normal color, turned pink once more.

Damn but she had pockets of sweetness in her.
Deep
pockets that he had somehow managed not to cop to until today. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, he raised it until she met his gaze and gave her a wry smile. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he said wryly, “it was my pleasure.”

“Mine, too.” She laid her head against his heart and stroked the hair on his other pec. “This feels…good,” she said around a yawn. “Safe. Have I told you I really like your chest?”

Something deep inside of him clenched tight for a moment, something that had less to do with her admiring his chest than it did with her tender gesture and that
safe,
which grabbed him for some reason. Maybe because it implied a level of trust that would allow her to admit to the vulnerability of sometimes not feeling safe. He’d have expected her to fiercely guard what she no doubt considered a weakness.

Raising his hand, he stroked her hair from the part in her bangs to her low ponytail, which he slowly pulled through his fist.

He cleared his throat and his voice came out low and gruff when he said, “I’m pretty damn fond of
yours, as well.” But he didn’t even glance at those perky round breasts.

She went abruptly still, but before he could figure out why, she raised her head and shuffled back a few inches on the mattress opening up a space between them.

She raked a gaze down his body, then back up again, and he was struck by the knowing smile she flashed him. Gone was the woman with her brief flicker of sexual shyness. This was the cocky chick he was accustomed to.

She rubbed the back of her hand down his abs, her lips curling up in a cat-in-the-creamery smile when he sucked in a breath as her palm brushed so close to the bob of his dick that he could feel the warmth it radiated. He was vaguely betting her moment of unguarded honesty had driven her to this sudden mood change when she raised a finger to bridge the gap. His cock jerked as if it had been electrified, and all cogent thought left his head. Wrapping her fingers around him, she squeezed.

He had her on her back in seconds, clever fingers slipping between her thighs to bring her back up to speed.

Thighs opening, eyes blurry with passion, she reached for him. “Hurry.”

Falling over her, he stiff-armed himself away from her upper body with one palm, thumbed down his erection and lined it up. Planting both hands on the
bed next to her head he tilted his pelvis and slid into her with one easy thrust.

The last time had been all flash and fire, so he took it slow, sliding in and out of Macy with long, easy strokes. Moaning, she raised her hips to meet each thrust.

But his effortless rhythm went to hell when, hooking the bend of his elbows around the inside bend of her knees, he leaned into her, driving her legs back toward her chest. Clearly the move had him reaching her buzzer, because Macy went ape on him. Bracing her feet against his shoulders, she writhed and ground at the apex of each thrust. Holding himself deep he reciprocated with a rapid grind of his own.

She went off, coming all around him just as he’d demanded. And just like that, so did he.

His first inclination when the last pulse and throb faded away was to collapse atop her like a felled ox. Only the knowledge that, given the position he’d put her in, he’d probably snap her back in two made him pull back and help her straighten her legs. Then he rolled onto his back, grasping her sweet ass to maintain their connection.

She did that lay-her-head-over-his-heart thing again and exhaled a shaky breath. “God, Gabriel. That was…amazing.”

“No shit,” he agreed. He’d never had sex quite like it.

And he had a bad feeling he’d been talking out
his ass earlier. Because he wasn’t wrecking her for another man. She’d just wrecked him for any other woman.

W
HEN
G
RACE ANSWERED
the rat-a-tat-tat of the knocker against her front door, the last person she expected to see was Jack Savage. “Oh,” she said, one hand going to the pale pink pin tucks of her gauzy Empire-waist blouse. She stared at him standing hip-shot on her tiny stoop, his tattooed arms like living tapestries in the afternoon sunlight, his hands behind his back—and hoped to heck she wasn’t gaping.

Or worse, drooling.

“You’ve been sober for a good, long stretch now,” he said, checking her over from the top of her messy updo to her bare feet. “And yet you never came to see me.”

Oh man, she had been so tempted. But when she’d sobered up she’d felt mortally embarrassed over the way she’d climbed all over him, then had been pretty sure he’d laugh himself silly if she actually took him up on his invitation. In the end she simply hadn’t had the nerve to present herself at his Airstream. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

He shook his head. “Jayzus, Gracie. You are one cynical bird.”

“No, I’m not! I’m—”

“I kind of thought that might be your reaction, though,” he interrupted, “so it’s here I am, then, to woo you. I brought you something.” Bringing his left hand out from behind his back, he presented her with a bedraggled stalk of Queen Anne’s lace, a tall white flower that grew wild along the roads. “And of course, what are flowers without the always popular chocolates to go with them? Or in this case, it.” He brought out his right hand to offer her a bag of M&Ms. “Me, I go for peanut, but in case you’re allergic, I didn’t want you thinking I’m out to plant you six feet under, when my real aim is to shag you.”

She choked and heat flooded her cheeks—as well as areas much farther south. “You have
got
to quit saying stuff like that.”

“Ah, well, now.” He stepped forward and she retreated as the hard muscle beneath the soft cotton of his black T-shirt brushed her breasts. He kept backing her up until they were in her living room, then closed the door behind them. “Too late to come all-over prim on me now, luv. I already know how much you like it when I talk dirty.” He looked over her shoulder. “This is a nice flat. What is that you’re doing over there?”

Interest lighting his sunlight-shot-whiskey eyes, he skirted her to reach the spot on the floor where she’d rolled out a long length of green construction paper and arranged the snapshots she’d been taking all summer of her upcoming students. Glue and scissors and a stack of fall-colored paper leaves were
positioned above the top edge around the midway point.

“I’m planning my classroom bulletin board.”

“Hey.” He squatted down to indicate a photograph. “That’s Ty. And here’s his friend Charlie.” He turned a white smile on her. “This is bleedin’ deadly, Grace. If I’d seen my kisser on my teacher’s wall back in Fourth Class, I would’ve been one thrilled little bugger.” His brows furrowed for a second, making the little silver barbell beneath the left one shift. “Seems like Ty and Charlie should be closer together, though. I haven’t seen the two of ’em separated since I got here.”

“Now that you mention it, neither have I.” She sank down to sit cross-legged next to him and switched Zach Westler’s snapshot with Charlie’s.

Jack’s left arm crossed her vision as he reached to pick up a leaf. She got a quick glimpse of a few of the individual tattoos that made up the whole: a Celtic cross, vines, a koi within a fleshy unfurling flower, an icon with an eye in the middle that looked East Indian or Aztecan. Then his thumb gently caressed the crumpled-then-smoothed orange tissue paper she’d glued atop a gold construction-paper leaf, traced its green string veins. “I like this. Where are you going to put it?”

She pointed to a spot, and he set it in place, then spent a moment finessing the angle. Picking up another, he raised his brows and she pointed out another spot. He arranged that one, as well.

As if her hand belonged to a stranger, she watched it reach out and trace the tattooed heart on his inner forearm, aware of the heat of his skin beneath the word
Mum,
which was written on a narrow banner that waved through the heart’s middle.

He stilled and turned his head to look at her. Her intentions must have been clear on her face, for he raised that brow again and said, “Yeah?”

She wet her lips. “Yes.”

“Just to be clear, you’re willing to put aside this brilliant art in favor of shagging?”

“I am.”

“Thank you, Jayzus,” he said fervently, and she grinned at him, expecting to be pulled to her feet and asked the way to the bedroom.

Jack had other ideas. Pulling her over to straddle his lap, he scooted out of reach of the bulletin board project and rolled her onto her back. Then he plastered himself over her, kissing her to within an inch of her life.

It was the first time in Grace’s life a man had ever wanted her too much to wait for the nicety of a bed. The knowledge set loose her inner hottie. Igniting, she returned his kiss with everything she had. The next thing she knew, it was a full-fledged conflagration.

“A
RE YOU FREAKING
kidding me?
Three times?
”

Color flowed up Macy’s neck as she looked at her cousin’s incredulous tone. Crap. She hadn’t meant to
say a word about that part of this morning’s events. Only…

Making love with Gabriel had been like nothing she’d ever experienced, and she’d just sort of blurted it out before her inner censor could catch up with her big mouth.

“Seriously?” Janna demanded. Shifting on the seat of the chintz chair in their room, her newly cast-free leg supported by the ottoman, she gave Macy an enthralled look. “My personal best was twice. And in all honesty? That happened exactly one time. Sex with Sean was usually more about him than me, so unless I lent myself a hand I was lucky to get the first O, never mind a second.”

“That still made you one up on me. I thought multiple orgasms were a myth.” Sex wasn’t something she’d participated in even a fraction as often as people around here seemed to think. Still, she
had
had a couple of lovers she’d always assumed were pretty good.

They hadn’t come close to giving her what she’d experienced with Gabriel, though. Not on their best day.

Maybe that was why she’d said that stupid you-make-me-feel-safe stuff to him. She’d been mortified when it sunk in what she’d revealed because it just sounded so damn…needy. She was a big girl, dammit, and she didn’t
need
anything, thank you very much.

Still, for all her self-directed pep talks aimed at
assuring herself she’d exercised at least a modicum of damage control, uneasiness over the whole business—the dancing-on-the-edge-of-the-abyss screaming sex Gabriel had introduced her to, her uncharacteristic you-big-strong-protector/me-helpless-little-woman response—continued to slice through the rationales she’d been using to convince herself it was no big deal.

Al
though
, come to think of it…

Now that her emotions weren’t so raw it occurred to her that
he
might have thought she meant she felt safe with him because he’d rescued her from a burning building.

Her shoulders, which had been creeping toward her ears, relaxed.
Of course.
It made perfect sense that she’d rely on him under those circumstances.

Not that any of it mattered. The moment Janna was up and self-sufficient again, she was out of here.

So what if she was enjoying Sugarville again or that the thought of leaving gave her an unexpected pang? Hell, that was completely understandable. Because of course it was going to be hard to leave Auntie and Uncle and Janna and Ty. But she could hardly come up with cutting-edge video concepts living in a hick-water town.

Could she?

“Between the fire, your, um, stop at Gabe’s house and the fuss we all made when you got back home, you’ve had a helluvan eventful day,” Janna said. “I have to tell you, I was surprised by how well you held
up beneath everyone’s concern. And impressed at how calm you stayed when we were all coming at you at once, wanting either to wrap you up in cotton wool or demanding all the gory details. But now…”

“Uh-huh.” Leaning back against her dresser, she shot her cousin a lazy smile. “But now you know it’s because…” She pinned down her pinkie finger with her thumb and held up the remaining three fingers.

Janna laughed, but although Macy liked that her cousin thought she was kidding, it was no joke. The way she’d felt when she and Gabriel left the clinic, she would have cracked under the bombardment of questions, felt smothered by the concern that had radiated from her relatives in waves—never
mind
dealing with the boarders’ voracious curiosity—if Gabe had brought her straight home. Yet his transforming lovemaking and his
need,
which had seemed to have matched her own—except he apparently didn’t think it took anything away from him the way she feared hers might—had given her back her equilibrium, not to mention stripping her of all tension.

A private smile curved her lips.

“Wow,” Janna said, studying her. “I guess you
really
let down your guard with Gabe.”

“What?” Macy snapped erect.
“No.”
She forced a laugh. Because she hadn’t, had she? She shook her head. No, ma’am. That momentary “feel safe” insanity aside, she was too savvy to get too comfortable—or involved—with any man. That never led to anything but trouble. “It was just…all the moons
aligning, y’know?” Her shoulder hitched. “Right situation, right time, right guy.”

“Sure,” Janna agreed, shooting her a knowing smile. “You being such a player and all when it comes to sex.” She made a get-real noise. “Admit it, you like him.”

“Well, yeah. Of course I do, or I couldn’t’ve—” she waved a hand “—you know, gotten naked with him. But it’s not like I’m in
love
with the guy or anything.”

“Uh-huh.” Janna gave her a look so understanding it made Macy squirm. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

“You are so full of it,” Macy muttered, knowing full well her cousin couldn’t hear as she stomped down the hallway minutes later. Determined to find an opinion she liked better, she made a beeline for Jack’s trailer. Hell, he knew her better than Janna did these days, anyhow.

Probably.

Maybe.

Jack hadn’t been around when Gabriel had brought her home earlier, however, and now, glancing out the library/rec room window as she passed its doorway, she feared he was still AWOL, since his truck appeared to be gone from the lot behind the house.

Now what? Her postcoital relaxation was fading fast beneath her irritation at her cousin’s refusal to accept that she wasn’t falling in love. For cri’sake. The idea was preposterous. Even so, Janna’s all-but-
laugh-in-her-face adherence to the notion made her feel restless and frankly itchy.

Gabe had gone out to the Kilimner place again to investigate the fire, so he wasn’t around. And in all honesty, now that she was no longer in the grip of his burn-down-the-town brand of lovemaking, she wasn’t all that certain she could even look at him without feeling ten kinds of self-conscious, never mind carry on a coherent conversation. Because, Lord. She had never felt
anything
like that with any man, let alone responded in a way even approaching the brazenness she’d displayed with him.

She wouldn’t mind the distraction of chauffeuring Ty to whatever was on today’s schedule—the pool again, if she remembered correctly, followed by tryouts for soccer—but her aunt seemed to think she should be resting. And Auntie so rarely dug in her heels that when she did there was no arguing with her. As a result, Uncle Bud had taken over Macy’s usual chores.

She considered throwing herself into a dress-up session to end all dress-up sessions. But in all honesty, even if she could dredge up the least desire to return to her and Janna’s room where she’d open herself up to even more comments she didn’t want to hear, she was in no mood to muck about with costumes and cosmetics.

Sometimes real life just sucked the joy right out of make-believe.

She went out onto the front porch, but there wasn’t
so much as a breath of fresh air or shade to be found. So she went back inside to poke her head into the kitchen, secretly relieved when her aunt wasn’t there. She wandered into the rec room and shot a desultory, solitary game of pool. Then she decided, heat or no heat, a walk would help clear her mind and settle her down, so she went back to the kitchen, grabbed an apple and let herself out the back door.

She was heading back from the relative coolness of the orchard a bit later when she heard the throaty sound of Jack’s diesel-fueled truck coming up the drive and promptly corrected her course toward his trailer. She was there to meet him when he pulled up next to his trailer and shut down the engine.

Before she could say more than a God-I’m-glad-to-see-you inspired “Hey,” Jack had leaped out of the cab and grasped her upper arms. “You all right?” he demanded. “I heard in town that you were trapped in a burning building.”

“I’m fine—Gabriel got me out before things got completely hairy. But how on earth did you hear about it?”

“I stopped by the bank to use the ATM and that cute little bird manning the window told me.”

“Good God. The Internet has nothing on Sugarville when it comes to instant communication.”

“I know.” Grinning, he slung a wiry arm around her shoulders and ushered her into his trailer. “I love this town.”

Macy felt a strange twinge. Because a huge part
of her loved it, too. But it seemed to be constantly engaged in a war with another part that thought matters would be best served all ’round if she hit the road back to southern Cal the instant Janna was up to resuming her responsibilities.

“Clearly they love you, too,” she said a bit sourly, “because not a soul has sold your story to the rags and brought the paparazzi down on your head. Me, they want to burn in effigy. Well, when they’re not actively trying to drown me, that is.”

Jack’s countenance promptly darkened. “You’ll get no argument from me there’s some shitehawk wankers in this town. But a lot of folks have been nice, too—and to you as well as me, luv, even knowing what they think they know about you. I love that I can walk down Commerce Street without being mobbed. And that I can actually hold a conversation that doesn’t begin and end with my ability to rock a guitar.” He smacked his forehead. “But what a gob I am to keep you standing.” Sweeping the Sunday papers off the dinette’s bench seats, he waved her in. “Here. Sit yerself down. Can I get you a G?”