Running Wild (18 page)

“Consider how you’d feel if she were your sister,” their dad had invariably added, which got him scornful as-if sneers.

Because, really? Like Finn or any of his brothers would ever be drawn to a woman who reminded them of any of their sisters. Still, they appreciated the guiding principle behind the old man’s directive. Each and every one of them would beat the bloody hell out of anyone who took advantage of a Kavanagh woman, be she sister, aunt or cousin.

He’d only known Magdalene a handful of days but Jesus, she’d gotten under his skin. Usually, he was perfectly happy with a single night with a woman. It was essentially his preferred duration for most dates. Aside from Julie McMurty in high school, it’d been rare for him to keep company with the same woman for two or three consecutive nights.

So why had it bugged him so much to be told she wouldn’t sleep with him again?

He hadn’t been looking for this thing with Mags and when he’d stepped in when Joaquin was hassling her, he’d assumed it was a one-time adventure his family would ply him with single malt to tell and retell for years to come. He hadn’t known it was the start of a mission to rescue Magdalene’s family from a drug lord. Yet, he didn’t regret a damn thing about it.

And that was the truly scary part: he couldn’t envision
not
doing this with her. She drove him nuts sometimes, but something about her just grabbed his attention by the short hairs and refused to let loose. She was the most interesting woman he’d met in a long time.

Maybe ever.

Little by little, his sexual frustration lost its grip and he started to pay attention to his surroundings. He’d stalked to the end of the small business district in a haze and, given that men with guns were trying to run them to ground, that wasn’t the smartest thing he’d done today. So from now on, he was on full alert.

Not that there was much to see until he noticed another short street behind the one hugging the riverfront. Following it, he entertained himself trying to read the various signs on the storefronts and small businesses. Then he came to a building that needed no interpretation. Holy shit. He went inside and strode up to the lone clerk behind the counter. He tried out his high school Spanish on the man.

And, okay, he already knew it was pitiful, but apparently he hadn’t realized how pitiful, because the reply he got was far too rapid for his comprehension.
“Uno momento,”
he said lamely, and about-faced to race out the door.

He ran all the way back to the hotel and burst into the room and straight past the blanket that divided his bed from Magdalene’s. “Sorry,” he said when she bolted upright. “But get dressed, I need your interpretive skills.”

“What for?” she asked even as she rose from the bed and reached for the stack of neatly folded clothing she’d set on the floor next to it. She began pulling things on over her little boy-shorts panties and tank top.

“This burg’s got a train station,” he said and grinned. “And if it goes anywhere near where we need to be, you won’t have to get in the boat again.”

“That would be most excellent,” she agreed, “considering we can’t predict how much more rough water we’ll run into.” She stood on one foot to put on her sandal, then switched to the other. After tweaking the strap into place over her heel, she dropped her foot and gave his chest a light slap as she brushed past him. “So what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Let’s go!”

“Hang on a sec. I need to dig out the map so we have some frame of reference.” It took only a little longer than that before he’d done so and they headed out.

It took no time at all to walk to the end of the riverfront and as Finn escorted Mags around its corner to the avenue behind, she gave him a delighted smile. “I had no idea another street was back here!”

“I know, right?” They arrived in front of the station. “Let’s see if we can get where we need to go from here.”

It turned out they could get close and a short while later they had tickets for the next morning’s eight-thirty train. Finn dragged out his wallet and handed it to Mags to pay for them. “Ask him if we can use the phone to call the rental place in La Plata to see how to get their boat back to them. The card’s in there, too.”

“Oh, good thought. I forgot all about that.” She twirled back to the man and launched into a discussion with him in her liquid, fast-paced Spanish. A few minutes later she turned back to Finn.

“This is better than we could have hoped for. They work with this company all the time and had an inquiry just today for a boat to get four people back up that way, but they didn’t have anything available. He said he’ll call them back, and if you bring him the key and your paperwork in the morning, he’ll write us up a receipt for proof of delivery.”

He laughed, snatched up Mags and swung her in a circle. “At last—something going our way!” He planted a swift kiss on her lips, then set her back on her feet before he was tempted to linger. Smiling at the man behind the counter, he said,
“Gracias!”
Then, wrapping his hand around the back of Mags’s neck, he escorted her out of the station.

“Let’s go see if that bodega is still open,” he suggested. “There’s no telling how long the train ride will be, but I’m pretty sure it won’t have a dining car. I wouldn’t mind picking up some provisions.”

“Good plan. I don’t like it when the food gets dangerously low.”

They were in luck and reached the little mom-and-pop just as the proprietors were about to close up. Mags charmed them into staying open a few moments longer with the promise of being quick.

And they honored her word, the two of them snatching up whatever looked useful or tasty. Their items were rung up thirty seconds shy of five minutes later. They both said
“gracias”
several times and were escorted to the door by the smiling owners.

Back in the room, he squatted in front of his pack to make room for their purchases and carefully zipped their tickets inside the exterior pocket. Giving it a final pat, he rose to his feet and turned to find Magdalene standing fairly close behind him.

Naked as the day she was born.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Y
OU
OWE
ME
a screaming orgasm,” Magdalene said. “And before you bring up the tipsy thing again, tell me, could someone too drunk to know what she wants do this?” Standing on her right foot, she held her arms out to her side as she brought up her left foot until her entire yardstick-straight leg was perpendicular to her body. She pointed her toes at him, then flexed her foot back toward her shin while pushing out her heel.

He’d barely gotten used to that—never mind the whole package of Magdalene in all that exposed baby-smooth skin with its dangerous curves and intriguing dips—when she swept her still elevated leg around to the side and back to center, affording him flashes of her satiny pink parts.

Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, she looked him in the eye. And demanded, “You in?”

He caved like a cheap paper plate. “I’m in.” And he tackled her, taking her down onto his bed.

She squeaked, but gave him a cool-eyed look as he pushed up on his palms to loom over her. “Good,” she said. “I’m up for doing this until we go our separate ways if you are. But if so, we need to establish a few ground rules.”

The idea of ground rules generated an unfamiliar resistance. It didn’t make sense since he was generally all about laying his cards on the table. Still... “There are no rules in sex.”

“Please. There are rules in everything.”

“Like places I can’t touch you?” he demanded. “Things you won’t let me do?” His gaze was slow and thorough as it traveled over her from the top of her head to where his fully clothed body met the blond triangle where they’d fit together if he were as naked as she. He winced slightly at the abrasions she’d gathered on her trip through the rapids this morning, but didn’t lose track of his goal. Meeting her eyes once again, he licked his lips. “Because I can make you like them all.”

“Ooh.” She performed a sensuous little supine wiggle, which did interesting things to her beautiful beige-nippled breasts. “I like the sound of that. But I’m talking more about what happens when the sexin’ is done.”

Some of the heat dimmed in her eyes and for the first time she avoided his gaze. “I’m not good at relationships. So that’s not what this will be.”

Best of all worlds
, he assured himself. Just sex, with none of the clinging and being overburdened with all her personal shit.

And yet... “Define
not good
.”

“I just...don’t do them. I’ve tried occasionally, but either I mess things up or I actually do things right, but people disappear from my life, anyhow. Either way, I learned a long time ago it’s easier just not to have expectations.” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “Look,” she said, pinning him in place with the weightiness of her attention, “I know I have issues I’m long overdue addressing. But who can afford therapy?”

“Someone with insurance?”

“Yeah, okay, those people. But unless I get hired on another movie like the one I had to turn down, that’s not even a glimmer on my horizon.” She essayed a facial shrug. “I’ve told you what I do for a living. It’s hardly in the neighborhood of a nine-to-five gig loaded with Bennies.” She looked at him through a pale forest of lashes. “And frankly, Kavanagh? You don’t sound like a steady-relationship kind of guy, yourself.”

“I haven’t been so far, although I’ve told you that may change. But whether it does or it doesn’t, I have a condition of my own.”

The look she leveled on him was chock-full of suspicion. “And what might that be?”

“We agree to be honest with each other. If something doesn’t work we say so and why.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already? Neither of us has been particularly shy about voicing our opinions.”

“True. But there’s just something about sex and ch—” Recognizing trouble when he heard it tripping off his own tongue, he shut the hell up.

Unfortunately, too late. “Tell me you were
not
about to say sex and chicks,” she said.

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say—”

She gave him a shot to the shoulder. “You so were!”

He grasped her wrists and pressed them down on the mattress next to her head. “You might not want to get too handsy with me, darlin’. When you’re this close, touching me and wearing nothing but that pretty, pretty skin, my dick’s all about the naked wrestling.”

“And yet in your mind it’s women who can’t stay rational when sex is on the menu.”

“I know,” he said deep in his throat and bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. God, she tasted sweet. “What was I thinking?” He pressed another openmouthed kiss a bit lower, smiling a little when her breath hitched and she shifted restlessly beneath him. “Do you really want to spend our one night in an honest-to-God bed arguing about this?”

“No.” She licked her lips. “I want you to get naked, too.”

“I can do that.” He shoved back and rose to his feet at the end of the bed. Looking at her bare sprawl atop the bed made him feel almost as if he might start to beg. Jesus, he could almost hear the words pouring from his mouth—
please, baby, please, baby, please
.

He stiffened. Finn Kavanagh didn’t beg any woman. Ripping his shirt off over his head, he tossed it aside the moment it cleared his face. Then he focused his attention back on her.

She lay with her hands where he’d placed them, next to her face, her fingers loosely curled toward her palms. Her thighs, however, were pressed together as if to hide that gorgeous little blond pelt between them, which he now knew, even if he couldn’t currently see all of it, had been waxed from the midway point of her labial lips down. “Spread your legs.”

“What?” she said blankly. But he noticed that her nipples shot on point.

His cock followed suit. “You heard me. I’ll strip for you but I want to see that sweet pu—” The word dried on his tongue as she did what she was told and spread them. “Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s gotta be one of the wonders of the world. America oughta have a national monument dedicated to it.”

“Yeah, maybe they could add it to Mount Rushmore,” she agreed drily. “They have all those busts of American presidents. All that’s missing is Deluca’s vajiggy.”

He laughed, shoved his pants down his legs and kicked free. “Bet you’d have a helluva lot more climbers scaling you than Roosevelt’s nose.”

He wasn’t sure if she heard him; she’d pushed up onto her elbows and seemed pretty preoccupied with staring at his dick, which had sprung out in happy relief when he’d released it from the constriction of his khakis. She licked her lips.

He licked his own. “Wanna kiss it?” He knew he should stop talking trash to her, but he couldn’t help himself, he got such a charge out of teasing her. Mostly she was a shock-proof, take-no-prisoners kind of woman. But she had these little pockets of innocence, times when he could tell he
had
shocked her, and he loved finding—and exploiting—them.

Apparently this wasn’t one of those times, however, for she merely said, “Yes,” and rolled up onto all fours to cat prowl across the bed toward him.

And oh, sweet mother Mary, watching her coming at him just fried his brain.

She halted inches away and without hesitation leaned right in to press a prim little close-lipped kiss on the head of his dick.

Finn’s breath exploded from his lungs, which seemed to tickle her, for she shot him a faint knowing smile. Then without taking her eyes from his face, she lapped the flat of her tongue up the length of his cock and bumped over the flange of the head to the slit in its crown. She took her time tickling that with the tip of her tongue.

Watching it happen,
feeling
it and seeing her open her mouth wider to suck him inside, he bent to grab her shoulders. Hardest thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t believe what a hair trigger she gave his dick every time she came near it.

The maneuver pushed his hips away from her even as he hauled her up onto her knees. Ordinarily he wasn’t one to turn down a blow job, but nothing about sex with Magdalene was goddamn ordinary. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but he didn’t have the first idea how he’d go about reversing the phenomenon. Where she was concerned, years of experience seemed to go up in smoke.

But, dammit, he
was
more experienced than she was—he’d put money on it. And if he couldn’t take command of this situation, right here, right now, he might as well turn in his man card.

There wasn’t a woman on earth had the power to make him do that. “You under the illusion you’re in charge here?”

“Who said anything about being in charge? You asked if I wanted to kiss it, I said yes and I kissed it.” She grinned at him. “French-kissed it, in fact. If you didn’t want me to, why ask?”

Yeah, Kavanagh, why ask?
Hell if he planned to tell her he’d thought it was a way to keep the upper hand. So he ignored the question. “I like you on your hands and knees. But turn around.”

He loved the way sexual direction seemed to turn her on. She was by no stretch of the imagination a compliant woman. Yet without protest, she whipped around and presented him with the curve of her long, pale back and that pretty heart-shaped ass—which she wiggled at him as she looked at him over her shoulder.

He gave one smooth cheek a spank with the flat of his hand as he climbed onto the bed to kneel behind her. “You are a saucy wench, I’ll give you that.”

“You have no idea. Give me five minutes where I was a minute ago and I’ll show you just how saucy I can be.”

That made his already hard cock impossibly harder, and he bent over her back. Reaching around her side with one hand, he palmed a breast even as he opened his mouth over the muscle where her right shoulder met her neck, gripping it lightly between his teeth.

She froze beneath him. Then she shuddered.

Whispered, “Oh, God, Finn!”

And pressed her butt back against his hard-on. Her nipple turned diamond hard and he caught it between his thumb and index finger to give it closer attention.

She began to pant.

Jesus. She had to be the most responsive women he’d ever been with. Reluctant to abandon her plush tit, but needing one hand planted on the bed for stability, he smoothed the one he’d been teasing her with down her diaphragm, her abdomen. He dipped his forefinger briefly into the shallow cup of her navel before stroking it down the soft hair crowning her mound and into the wet, slick slit between her legs.

Simultaneously, they inhaled sharp, deep breaths and he raised his head from her neck. Mags reached between them, groping for his cock.

“Wait,” he said as her fingers closed around him and began tugging his dick toward her opening. “I want to look at you while I fuck you. I want to see you when you come.”

She set him loose and flipped over onto her back, scooting up toward the boardless head of the bed. He dived face-first across the corner of the bed to hook the shoulder straps of his pack and haul it onto the mattress. It was already unzipped and he dug through it for his bag of condoms.

It only took him seconds, yet it was enough time to realize that what he wanted with Magdalene wasn’t simple fucking. He wasn’t a complete cretin—he liked women. He didn’t think of them as just fucks.

Okay, he occasionally did.

But he’d never slept with a woman he didn’t genuinely enjoy talking to as well. But Mags...

She was in a class of her own. And he wanted to make lo— No. He couldn’t say he ever did that. But he wanted to take his time with her.

Show her a little tenderness, which he’d done damn little of last time.

He grabbed out a handful on condoms and lifted his upper body back on the bed.

Mags was lying on her side, her head propped in her hand, watching him. “Think you’ve got enough protection, there, cowboy?” She cut her eyes toward the wrappers in his fist and raised her brows.

“For starters.”

One corner of her mouth tilted up. “I have to say, I admire your confidence.”

“Yeah?” He scooted up to face her, mimicking her posture. “You’re not exactly a slouch in that department, yourself.”

She flashed him that pleased, sweet smile that grabbed him by the balls and showed no inclination to let loose every damn time he saw it.

“That’s true, I’m not,” she agreed. But if she were trying to hide from him the way his saying so had tickled her, it wasn’t working.

“Ah, man.” He reached to wrap a hand around her nape. “You do things to me, Magdalene. Crazy, wicked things that mess with my head.” And scooting closer, he moved in to kiss her.

He’d been around the track more than a time or two—hell, more than Secretariat, Seattle Slew and War Admiral combined—so kissing should have been the least of what they planned to do to each other. Yet it didn’t feel like a “least.” It felt so damn fresh every time he kissed her amazing lips, every time he got within licking distance of her flavors. And he wanted more of them.

He wanted them
all
. Including the ones he may have licked off his fingers, but had yet to taste from the source. So after what could have been fifteen seconds or the same number of minutes, he slid his mouth from hers to kiss his way down her throat. As his lips moved lower, he eased her over onto her back and propped himself over her, lowering his chest to rub against her breasts in a long, luxurious undulation.