The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (12 page)

“What are you saying, then?” she asked, tipping her chin up slightly as he shifted closer. She felt the bridle rack at her back. “What is it you want?”

“I just want to learn to ride.” His lips curved then, and her thighs—or more accurately, the muscles between them—suddenly felt a whole lot more wobbly.

His eyes were so dark, so deep, she swore she could fall right into them and never climb back out. And that smile made it dizzyingly clear that horses weren't the only thing he was interested in riding.

It was too early in the day for this. She couldn't handle this kind of full-out assault on her senses. Or on her mind. Or…hell, what part of her didn't he affect? He muddled her up far too easily. Muddled was definitely not what she needed to be right now.

But when he lifted his hand, barely brushing the underside of her chin with his fingertips, and tipped her head back a bit further…she let him.

“I think about you,” he said, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper.

Her skin tingled as if the words themselves had brushed against her.

“Too often. You distract me.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It's…an unexpected thing,” he said.

She wasn't sure what to think about that. And his neutral tone made it impossible to determine how he felt about it. “So, this is…what? An attempt to exorcise me from your thoughts?”

His smile broadened as his mouth lowered slowly toward hers. “Either that, or make all this distraction a lot more worthwhile.”

She had a split second to decide whether to let him kiss her, and spent a moment lying to herself that she was actually strong enough to do the right thing and turn her head away. Who was she kidding? Her body was fairly humming in anticipation and it was all she could do to refrain from grabbing his head and hurrying him the hell up.

Like he said. It was just a kiss. Not a contract.

His lips brushed across hers. Warm, a little soft, but the right amount of firm. He slid his fingers along the back of her neck, beneath the heavy braid that swung there, sending a delicious little shiver all the way down her spine.

He dropped another whisper of a kiss across her lips, then another, inviting her to participate, clearly not going any further unless she did. She respected that, a lot, even though part of her wished he'd taken the decision out of her hands. It would make all the self-castigation later much easier to avoid. Given his aversion to commitment, somehow she figured he knew that. They were either in it together, or not at all.

He lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes, a silent question in his own.
Will you, or won't you?

She held his gaze for what felt like all eternity, then slowly lowered her eyelids as she closed the distance between them and kissed him back.

His fingers twitched against the back of her neck when she opened her mouth on his, then pressed a bit harder as he accepted the invitation and sank his teeth gently into her bottom lip, tugging a little, before taking the kiss deeper.

He was as natural at kissing as he'd been at horseback riding. She'd known he would be, and her entire body thrilled at the knowledge that he'd be even better in bed.

He walked her so her back pressed up against the bridle rack. She didn't mind the leather and bits digging into her back. She didn't even really feel them. Because she was too busy feeling Rafe Santiago slide his tongue into her mouth. And if his skill in teasing her tongue with his own was any indication of just how clever that tongue might be in other places…She heard a deep, sensual groan, and realized, distantly, it was her own.

Somehow her fingers had found his shoulders, sinking into the hard muscle she discovered there, before sliding along the back of his neck, and burrowing into all those thick, dark waves. He pressed his hips into hers, growling just a little, as she scraped her nails along his scalp. He fit perfectly between her legs and she pushed back, cradling the hard bulge pressing there as she clutched at his head to keep his mouth on hers.

He dueled with her tongue, controlling the kiss as he drew his thumbs along her jawline, before sliding his fingertips down the length of her neck to her collarbone. Now it was her turn to groan as he efficiently popped the clasps of her overalls, allowing the front bib to drop away so he could cup his palms over her breasts. She moaned as he broke their kiss and began to leave a trail of kisses and nips along her jaw, around to the sensitive spot below her ear, as he gently rolled her hard nipples between his fingers.

She wanted to claw her clothes off, feel his skin against hers. She was still clutching his head as he lowered it to replace his fingers with his mouth. He left wet marks as he suckled her through her shirt. The combination of the damp heat and the waffled weave of her long underwear she wore created an exquisite friction that had her climbing a peak without any further stimulation.

She was pushing her hips forward, seeking that sweet, hard bulge she'd felt moments before, but which his current position prevented her from having. Dammit, she wanted it all. His mouth on her, the hard length of him between her legs, buried deep inside of her. She was all but coming apart at the seams as he continued to drive her wild. She dragged his mouth back to hers so he could press his hips into hers again, and groaned in deep satisfaction when he pinned her tightly to the rack and slid his hands down her sides, over her hips, pulling at her thighs, urging her to wrap her legs around him as he once again took her mouth with his in a soul-deep kiss.

The instant she lifted one leg up over his hip so he could sink the full weight and length of him against her, she peaked and peaked hard. The strength of it stunned her, robbing her of breath, but he kept up just the right amount of sweet pressure so she could wring every last pulsing bit of pleasure from the contact. Breathless as he nibbled the side of her neck, she had no idea what to say as the reality of what she was doing began to crash back in.

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he instructed, taking her mouth again, only this time in a kiss so gentle, it seduced her all over again.

She was powerless against this, against him. It was too good, and he was impossible to push away. Especially when she didn't really want the contact to end. She shut out thoughts of what would happen next and tried hard, very hard, to just enjoy this for what it was.

She kissed him back, her fingers still in his hair, toying with the thick waves as he continued. She'd stop him. At some point. Just not quite yet.

He slowed the kiss, then finally ended it. But rather than having an awkward moment when he lifted his head and looked into her eyes again, he smiled. And she smiled back. And it was somehow normal, and natural, with a little hint of co-conspirator twinkling in his eyes, as if they had these little assignations all the time. And she couldn't help but think how wonderful that would be.

He slid his hands between them and tugged her bib back into place. “Seems I've left your shirt a bit damp.” He lifted an amused gaze to hers, and rather than be embarrassed, she laughed. Thinking back to the enigmatic man who'd watched her in silence all those times before they'd actually met, she'd never have thought him playful. And yet he was, delightfully so.

She helped him with the clasps. “Seems so,” she said, “but then I'm used to getting a little mussed-up at work.”

“Are you, now.” A rather wicked, speculative gleam entered his eyes and her body responded instantly, quite willing to go along with whatever he had in mind.

He slid her long braid over her shoulder and toyed with the ends of it, glancing up through those impossibly thick lashes. He flicked the ends across the front of her bib, and though she couldn't feel anything through the heavy denim, just the act alone, and what it implied he was thinking, made her twitchy and needy all over again. It was crazy, what he was doing to her, and worse, that she was simply letting him. She wasn't even trying to level the playing field, allowing him full control of the situation.

But it felt pretty damn good not to be in charge. Not to mention he was taking very good care of her and seemed to be enjoying it. Having always been the caretaker in her world, it was heady stuff, having someone seek out her needs and want to fulfill them. “Rafe, I—”

A sudden gasp from the doorway behind him froze them both into place.

“I'm so sorry. I was just—never mind. Sorry!”

Rafe turned his head toward the still-open doorway, allowing Elena to see past his shoulder…and right into the wide blue eyes of Tracey, who was presently backing up, tripping over a bucket out in the aisle, barely catching herself in time before crashing into the stall door behind her.

Face flaming, she righted herself and hustled off.

“Tracey,” Elena said, extricating herself from Rafe's arms and stumbling past him. “Wait.”

“It's okay,” her young assistant called back brightly, too brightly. “I was going to start arranging gear, but I can—you know, there's tons to do. I'll just—” Cheeks still pink, she didn't try to finish the sentence, just headed out to the paddock at a quick trot.

Elena debated going after her, but what, honestly, was she going to say? She didn't know yet what
she
was thinking about what she'd just done, much less how to explain it to the hired help.

“She's in college, right? I'm sure she's seen people kissing before. I doubt we scarred her for life.”

Elena turned to find Rafe leaning against the tack room door, arms folded, a supremely satisfied look on his far-too-handsome face.

“I'm her boss.”

“Her single boss.”

“And you're one of my students,” she said, doggedly refusing to give him the edge.

He turned and began looking up and around.

“What are you looking for?”

His gaze shifted back to her. “The sign.”

“What sign?”

“The one that says there will be no fraternizing between instructors and students.”

“It's the accepted rule in most professional situations.”

“Most.” He pushed away from the door and walked toward her.

“Besides,” she said hurriedly, as he drew closer, “most of the students here are children, so it hardly warranted an actual sign. Most civilized people—”

He walked right up to her and tipped her chin up so her gaze met his. “That is where you made your error. I've never claimed to be civilized.”

Her heart was pounding, while other parts of her were rejoicing in the fact that he was touching her again. Traitorous parts. “You're the most civilized-looking man I've ever seen. Even your sweatshirt wouldn't dare wrinkle.”

“Surely, given your training, you of all people know that looks can be deceiving.” He stroked her chin with his finger. She had to fight the urge to sigh and rub against it.

Somewhere she found the strength to back away from his touch. “Lesson time is wasting.”

He merely smiled. “I was rather liking a different kind of education.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, hating having no retort for that, as she'd clearly been liking it pretty damn well herself. She went to move past him back to the tack room, intent on gathering the gear and getting on with the day as originally planned.

He touched her arm as she passed by. “Elena—”

She also hated just how much she liked hearing him say her name, with that slight accent making it sound incredibly exotic. She'd never felt exotic in her entire life. Of course, she'd just felt all kinds of things she'd never felt before. Also, all thanks to him. All the more reason to get this lesson back on track. She'd think everything through later, figure out what to do about it. When he was far, far away and not looking at her the way he was right now. Like he still wanted to consume her.

And she was still very much of a mind to let him.

“I've got other things lined up, so if you want your lesson, we really need to get Petunia saddled.” It had come out sounding more plea than command, but at least she was trying to reestablish some boundaries.

He followed her, but was prevented from stepping into the tack room behind her when she swung around and planted a saddle pad and saddle smack into his arms.

“You remember where Petunia is stabled, right?” She turned back to gather the remainder of the gear, every inch the riding instructor now. Okay, so there were still some inches that were all quivery and tingling, but it was a start, anyway. “Why don't you go and reintroduce yourself. I'll be over in a minute.”

“Sure thing, Teach.” Amusement was clear in his tone. “I'll get right on that.”

She flicked him a quick glance over her shoulder, but just caught the corner of his smile as he edged out of the tack room and headed off down the aisle.

The fact that she had to resist the urge to poke her head outside the door to get a rear view of him walking away told her she still had some work to do in regaining control. Something told her he was far too used to getting what he wanted where women were concerned.