Kiss Me Hello (Sweetest Kisses) (21 page)

She nuzzled a spot below his ear that was damned near ticklish. “You’ve changed the subject.”

“Not really. Will you respect my request for an exclusive arrangement with you, Sidonie? We’re all carrying baggage, and yours is not as unique as you think.”

“What about you?” She sat up to survey him, which meant she was again parked on the evidence of his inconvenient arousal. This felt wonderful physically, which made him feel lousy otherwise.

“What about me?”

“You going to tell me about those near misses someday, Mr. Knightley?”

“Yes, I am.” If he’d been thinking up ways to dodge that conversation earlier, he knew now he couldn’t put it off forever. “This might not be the best time.”

“Because you’re aroused?” Sid scooted back, her hands going to the fly of his jeans. Before Mac could protest, she had him unzipped. “If I recall, there’s a guy in here whose acquaintance I’d like to make, or make again.”

“Sid, you don’t have to do this. Let me hold you.”

“You’ve been holding me, and we’ve talked, and, yes, I will guaran-ass-damned-tee you an exclusive, you idiot.”

“I’m an idiot?”

“A horny idiot, thank God. Do you think I’d want to share
you
, for pity’s sake? I want all of you, all to myself, because I am not an idiot.” She extracted him from his clothing, her hands cool and careful on him in a sexy contrast to her brusque tone of voice.

“Sidonie, just because I have the beginnings of an erection doesn’t mean you have to humor me.” He was as hard as a muck fork handle—before she ran her finger around the tip of his shaft.

“Lose the jeans, MacKenzie.” She climbed off him and started unbuttoning her shirt. Her breasts, those glorious, soft, peachy-perfect breasts emerged into the moonlight when her bra came off a moment later.

“I don’t take advantage of women when they’re emotionally distraught.” Mac’s voice shook. He hoped Sid didn’t hear it, but she grinned up at him, which shot that theory all to hell.

“I will take advantage of you, though, MacKenzie. It isn’t polite to argue with a lady, and it’s plain silly when you’re nakey-nakey and rarin’ to go.” Her jeans came off, which effectively obliterated Mac’s ability to argue.

He wanted those sturdy, feminine legs wrapped around him, wanted to bury his face in that soft thatch of curly reddish-blond hair, wanted to consume her with his every sense. Naked in the moonlight, Sid folded their clothing at the foot of the blanket, and Mac understood that this wasn’t about her feminine confidence.

She was a confident woman, or he wouldn’t have noticed her.

This was to reassure Sid he
saw
her
as confident, he saw her as desirable.

And he did. More than ever, Mac absolutely did. He might possibly desire her more than he could show her, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“I’m calling the shots here, Knightley, lest you get some fool manly notion about who’s in charge of this round. On your back, please.”

She pushed him on the chest and down he went. He was a big guy; women and even men seemed to defer to him naturally in most situations—except, of course, his little brothers and their womenfolk and offspring. Being bossed around by a naked woman, though… Mac could get used to it.

Might take a lot of practice, but he was willing to make the investment. Mac made this vow to himself because he suspected it hadn’t been like this for Sid with all those little college boys.

Her freshman year—the single year of her big, wicked sex spree—she would have been eighteen years old. She hadn’t been bossing anybody then. Eighteen was still a child, in many ways. Legally, an adult; emotionally, the barest approximation thereof.

“Get comfortable, MacKenzie. This could take a while.”

He expected Sid to swing a leg over him and kiss the daylights out of him. Her hair brushed his stomach an instant before her lips settled on the end of his cock.

Between thank-God-I-showered-after-work and complete ecstatic oblivion, Mac had one coherent thought: he needed this. His first impulse was to protest, to lever up and gently put Sid on her back, while he explained to her that certain intimacies could be reserved for when he’d earned them.

The lecture died a silent death, swallowed up in the vast sea of Mac’s gratitude.

He
needed
this.
Needed the reassurance that a worthy woman desired him this way, wanted to give to him this intimately. He needed the trust, the pleasure, the sharing of his arousal, the courage on both their parts.

He needed her.

He settled his hand in Sid’s hair, wanting to be connected to her as she drove him beyond reason. Her tongue was a psychological weapon designed to part a man from his wits; her hands were maddeningly gentle as they cupped and stroked him.

Sid paused and shifted her body so she was straddling Mac’s leg, her hair drifting over his belly, and her hands sleeving his shaft. He was wet; she’d licked him wet and moved her hands down his shaft, one after the other, as she drew on him. Her mouth tugged one way, her hands the other, and Mac nearly flew apart.

“Slow down, Sidonie. For the love of… You can’t… I’m going to…
Jesus
.”

She raised her head to peer at him, teasing her fingers through the down at the base of his shaft. “Am I doing this right, MacKenzie?”

“
Yes
.” That tortured whisper was his voice, telling her the God’s honest truth. “Exactly right.”

“Good.” She arched up and cradled his erect cock between her breasts, getting her tongue on the end of him as she moved her body to caress his length. “Wouldn’t want to think I’ve worn you out already.”

Mac knew a vulgar term for what she was doing, but it felt sublime. Her moving on him, her breasts and her mouth, her heat, her tongue…

He tried to think of Supreme Court opinions he’d memorized. Tried to recite the Gettysburg Address, but he made the mistake of opening his eyes as Sid shifted again to rub her cheek over the end of his engorged cock. She looked enraptured, a pagan goddess come to earth to indulge herself with him.

“Sid, I can’t hold out much longer. My wallet’s…”

“Hush.” She licked him delicately, like a cat. “No wallet. We didn’t use your wallet the last time we were on this blanket, and turnabout is fair play.”

She was going to kill him, and Mac would be grateful. He felt for her hair, palming the back of her head in hopes he might be able to control her if he couldn’t control himself. She got her mouth on that spot under the tip of his cock, scraped her teeth over it, and sent lightning bolts through his self-restraint.

“Sidonie, I’m close.”

She closed her mouth over him and drew on him firmly, rhythmically, relentlessly
.
Within five seconds, Mac’s mind shut down as pleasure rocketed through him. He barely had time to roll over and wedge himself against the edge of the blanket before he was coming in great, wracking spasms of glory. His body trembled and jerked with it; behind his closed eyes, fireworks exploded in brilliant colors. His lungs heaved like a colt who’d set the new record for the Derby, while his entire being was suffused with pleasure.

He might have passed out, so thoroughly had Sidonie satisfied him.

When Mac could think again, Sid was what he first became aware of. She’d hiked her leg over his hips and cuddled close. Her arm banded his chest, and her body was spooned around him to the extent a woman almost a foot shorter than he could spoon with him.

In the welter of emotions following these physical sensations, he spotted the temptation to cry, which would not do. The urge to laugh wasn’t quite right either, so he kept sorting, even as Sid’s hand stroked over his chest.

Mac moved to his back and took her in his arms, putting her head on his shoulder.

She sighed the kind of smug, dreamy sigh he associated with women who’d found their pleasure, though he knew she hadn’t. She laid her palm to his jaw and turned his head, stretching up to kiss him lingeringly on the lips, then subsided to his shoulder again.

God in heaven, he needed to say something, to
think
something.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Sid had just said it for both of them.

They lay in the moonlight, Sid’s leg over Mac’s thighs, her head on his shoulder, their hands joined over his heart.

She’d given him the exclusive he’d wanted, tossed it at him as if, in Sid’s view, any damned fool would know enough to sign up for it, and then she’d blown his mind until he’d felt the earth, moon, sun, and stars moving.

And they were moving still…

Mac tried to place the dull echo of concussion that radiated up from the ground. There had been earthquakes in the area in his lifetime, little bitty geological twitches that barely made the next day’s news.

But this was faint, steady, rhythmic…

“Sid?” He shook her gently. “Sidonie, honey, wake up.”

Her eyes opened, and she started to smile at him, but something in his face must have clued her in.

“Sweetie, we need to get dressed and move it. I think the horses are loose.”

* * *

The urgency in Mac’s tone cut through the fog of lassitude and contentment in Sid’s brain. She had been so happy, drifting in his embrace, so at peace.

She reached for her clothes and passed him his.

Mac raised his head like a prairie dog on a windy day. “That’s them. Hear it?”

Sid paused in the middle of shrugging into her shirt—to hell with the bra—and cocked her head. Yes, she felt as much as she heard dull, thudding hoofbeats, one-two, one-two, from over toward the house. What caught her attention was MacKenzie Knightley, kneeling up on the blanket like he was ready to sprint off buck nekkid.

What a glorious sight that would be.

“When the dew is falling, sound travels more easily.” He snatched up his jeans, tossed them away, and pulled on his socks instead. “The latch on the stall is securely bolted to the beam. I checked it myself last weekend.” He pulled on his jeans while Sid fumbled with her shirt buttons.

“If they get to the road, there will be hell to pay.” Mac jerked at his belt as he nattered on. “Old man Wyandt keeps a little Arab stud about a mile that way.” He pointed with his chin. “If the mares are in season, they’ll head to him, and the shortest route is right along the road.”

He stood and looked down at her. From where Sid sat on the blanket, Mac looked about nine feet tall.

Then he was beside her again, kissing her on the mouth, hard.

“Bring the blanket when you’re decent. Try not to move up on them so you push them toward the road.”

He loped off, making not a sound as he ran.

“Wham, bam,” Sid muttered, shoving a foot into her jeans. “Maybe have horse burgers for breakfast.”

What had happened between her and Mac on that blanket had been beyond words. Profound. Special didn’t begin to start to think about covering it. Mac had surrendered to her, surrendered his body, his mind, his trust…

But like an icy deluge, the thought washed through her mind: What if Social Services got wind the horses were loose on the road—a public nuisance, a safety hazard, an irresponsibly dangerous situation?
What
if
somebody
hits
one
of
them, and I have to pay for all the damage?

Sid stuffed her bra in her pocket, pulled the rest of her clothes on, folded up the blanket, and hustled back toward the house as quietly as she could. The sight that greeted her would have been comical but for the anxiety pushing up her heart rate.

The horses were on the lane, halfway down to the road, and Mac was between the horses and the road. He was trying to herd the mares to the barn, but they were alternately munching on the grass beside the lane and frisking around Mac as if he were playing with them.

Two horses and one man made herding a difficult proposition. He’d get one horse moved a few steps in the right direction, only for the second horse to trot around behind him, looking for a game of tag.

This situation was like when Luis was too busy playing on the Internet to come down to do his weekend chores. He was simply too distracted to give Sid’s agenda the time of day. She ducked into the barn and retrieved what she needed.

“Oh, ladies! Laaadies! Come see what Sid has for you!” Both horses’ heads came up, and they stood still, ears pricked in the moonlight. “Come to mama, you bad girls. Painting the town red can work up an appetite, and I’ve got just what you need.” Sid shook the feed bucket loudly, and one of the horses—Buttercup, the one with the blaze—took a tentative step in Sid’s direction.

“Smart girl, Buttercup. I bet you’ll get a lot more of this than that silly Daisy. She’s too busy flirting with MacKenzie, and there won’t be any left for her.” Sid shook the bucket again, and both horses started moving toward her.

“You’re brilliant,” MacKenzie said, walking slowly behind the horses. “Start backing toward the barn. They’ll follow once they get a whiff of the grain.”

“Of course they will,” Sid said, doing as he suggested. “My girls are too smart to get into any real trouble, especially not for some little old runty stallion with a funny nose, aren’t you, ladies? You need your beauty sleep too. You’ve fallen prey to the full moon and the spring air and an excess of high spirits. Am I right?”

The horses’ heads were down as they followed Sid to the barn, almost as if they realized their adventure was over and it was time for bed. She kept talking to them, just as she might read a bedtime story to a tired child.

“Walk right into their run-in stall,” Mac said. “Put a little of the grain in each of their dishes then come on out.”

“How much is a little? These are the biggest horses God ever made.”

“A handful. They’re efficient, and all they need is enough to reward them for following you back to civilization.”

Sid complied, but part of her wanted to stay with the horses, to keep talking to them until she was sure they were content for the night.

“Good job.” Mac kissed her when she was standing beside him outside the horses’ stall. Kissing seemed to be his way of saying a lot of things.