The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2) (6 page)

I’d picked arguing plus benefits. Hopefully with only minimal arguing.

I walked into the barn through a small door on the side and stayed in the doorway, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim light and the dust that had settled everywhere. This storage barn had bales of hay, farm implements, and lots of unidentifiable grimy mechanical parts.

Will stood by the hay bales, beginning to do something—no idea what—with some piece of equipment—couldn't tell you about that either. Because I was silhouetted in the doorway, I blocked the light and he noticed me. His face broke into a half-smile. "Need somethin'?"

"Yeah."

I strode slowly over to him, taking my time, making him wait, even though I didn't want to. I really wanted to run into his arms, to make him crash into the hay, taking my weight. I wanted to feel what his biceps felt like, gripping me, holding me.

The look on his face was a combination of wary and interested. When I got to him, he looked down at me, but didn't say anything. At first, he didn't move, just kept his hands where they were, one on the greasy farm equipment, one out. Then he carefully wiped them on a rag.

And then I decided to make the first move.

I reached over to him, put my index finger out, and trailed it up from his belly button to his chin, again slowly, taking my time. His expression got less wary and more interested. I looked him in his lovely eyes, put both hands behind his neck, and brought his face to mine to kiss.

Our lips touched, his soft lips on mine, and the kiss was sweet for all of about three seconds, and then, suddenly, Will Thrash was kissing me back like he meant it. Tongue engaged, devouring me. Hands in my hair, on my lower back pressing me to him, on my ass. My hands went crazy too, all over his strong back, his neck, his thick hair, his Wrangler-clad ass.

Now I've been kissed a lot, but never like this. It was like he had this frenzy inside him that he'd kept bottled up by being quiet all the time, and he just let it out, on me. His lips nibbled mine, his tongue chased mine, and after a really long time, he broke away and then was back, making his way down my neck, nuzzling me and sucking on my neck. I gasped, I couldn't help it, it felt so good.

I pushed on his shoulders, walking him back to the hay bales, and even though he had this rock solid body, he let me. In another instant, we were down on top of the hay bales, me straddling him, kissing him with all my might, an activity in which he fully cooperated. The poky hay stuck into the knees of my jeans, and poor Will probably had it pressing into his back, but he didn't act like he cared. In fact, I was pretty sure he didn’t because he hardened under me, and I felt it between my legs. Having been given a preview attraction upon arrival, I couldn't wait to meet his cock in person. I reached down between my legs and felt his length under his jeans, and he groaned. With steady, gentle pressure, I stroked him over his jeans as I kissed him, and his eyes went wild.

Boy. Stepping over a boundary was a fucking turn-on.

And then we heard a loud male voice call, "Will?"

We both jumped up, startled and disheveled. It was Jimmy, the older wrangler, who appeared in the doorway. I brushed off my knees as fast as I could, and straightened my hair, while Will adjusted his pants. I reached behind him and dusted off his back, trying to get the hay off of his black t-shirt, but I wasn't fast enough because Jimmy walked in the barn, shielded his eyes to get used to the light, sized us up, and smiled.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Will didn't answer, but he was breathing hard and gave me a look I couldn’t read.

"I'll just be going," I said. "See you later."

I resisted the urge to pick a straw out of his hair and left him to explain himself, if he wanted to, to Jimmy, who'd clearly figured everything out already.

Senses

THE FIRST KIDS OF the summer are coming tomorrow!!!!
I texted Amelia.

That's not all that's going to come this summer, I imagine.

I laughed, called Amelia, and updated her on the new parts of Will that I had experienced, including the physical part, meaning, obviously, my kiss with him in the barn. I told her that I'd made the decision to get busy with him at the first opportunity as my summer fling. She heartily approved. I knew you didn't need a girlfriend to agree with you about a guy, but it sure felt soothing when one supported you like that.

I mean, this was the right decision, right?

Right?

Normally, when I kissed a man, if I liked him, I wanted to kiss him again, and perhaps go further. Since my fumbling high school days, I really hadn't had any bad kisses, although there had been some that had felt kinda
meh
. Still, though, I had a good and active sex life, even if no one had thrilled me in a long time.

But with Will? That kiss had me reenacting it in my head the whole day. I couldn't think of anything else. It was like kissing him was the key to opening him up. In the short period that I had known him, he had been quite reserved, and, well, an asshole. Now I knew that there was more to him. He had something passionate under that quiet surface that I wanted to experience again, and in full detail. He sure flared up immediately when I gave him the opportunity. Like a spark in the dry California chaparral. I'd never experienced anything like that, being with someone so ardent.

It was fucking hot and I wanted more. Now.

Instead of going back to find him in the barn, however, I spent the rest of the day attempting to work in the office, which in reality meant that I was daydreaming about Will's body and its various parts, until it was time for dinner, when I packed up and walked to the chow hall.

Part of me was apprehensive about seeing him at meal times. How do you act in public with a guy that you work with when you were almost in his pants a few hours earlier? But mostly, I was simply curious to see to how he would react. At least that’s what I’d told myself.

He was already seated when I got there, so, like the other meals, I sat next to him. But this time, when I brushed up against him as I sat down, instead of flinching, he pressed his thigh into mine and kept it there for the entire meal. I liked this. I could feel his body and smell his clean smell. He kept sneaking glances at me and giving me half-smiles as I talked. Let's just say that I was distracted throughout the entire meal. Despite my lack of interest in my dinner, conversation surged, especially involving plans for the visually impaired students coming the next day.

"We're going to be focusing on tactile sensations for the participants," I told the table. Staff members before me had properly set up the Headlands Program for assisting with all sorts of disabilities. Besides various games, CDs, and training materials, the ranch even had a three-dimensional map of the horse arena so that the students could explore it with their hands before they got on the horses. That way they'd know what to expect. After I talked about the different things the students were going to do this week, I concluded, "This is going to be a week of waking up all of our senses."

Will stifled a smile and put his hand over his mouth, his nostrils flaring.

Dirty birdie.

Damn, if I didn't like it. A lot.

At the end of the meal, as everyone else picked up their dishes and went to bus them to the kitchen, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'll wake up your senses this week if you wake up mine."

He looked me in the eyes, intently, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Deal."

Janine and Stephanie came back over to me and the three of us walked back to the bunkhouse, leaving Will to go to his. I felt like he watched me as we walked away, but I didn’t spin around to look. Finally, as we headed up the steps, I turned and watched Will go up to his ranch house, alone, and suppressed the urge to chase him down and tackle him.

My dreams that night were spicy, to say the least, and starred him.

The following morning, I woke up before the triangle, because I was so excited to meet the kids. A surge of adrenaline propelled me out of bed and got me to breakfast early. I took my coffee to go and set up for the kids while I anxiously waited for their arrival. When the vans pulled up, followed by a pickup truck with their luggage, I ran out to meet them.

"Hello, and welcome to the Headlands Program," I said, as the six participants and their parents or adult leaders made their way out of the vehicles. "I'm Marie and I'm here to make sure you all have a wonderful time. I'm so glad you're here. Now, my first question when I got here was, is there somewhere to pee?"

There were a few laughs.

I walked up to each of the six participants individually, who ranged in ages from nine to eighteen, and shook their hands and talked with them, and let them touch me, if they wanted to. One participant in particular, a seventeen-year-old girl named Clarissa, had long, dark blonde hair plaited into dozens of braids, going down her head into rows with beads on the end, kind of like Bo Derek. When I met her, she turned towards me, held out her hand, and said, "Hair sings to me. Let me feel your hair and I will tell you what it sounds like." I bent and put my head in her hands and she trilled a clear, high, note. Then she told me, "Oh, your hair is fun. We are going to have a good time."

With these kids, the pace slowed down from my enthusiasm that morning. We made our way, with care, to the bunkhouse, and took our time setting everyone up. I was impressed once I realized that there was braille on all the signs in the compound. This place was set up for helping people.

After lunch, we headed over to the horses, and Stephanie took over.

None of them had ever ridden a horse before, and I was impressed by their bravery. Fear of horses is common. Horses are big animals, and they can feel overwhelming. Being around them, without being able to see them, had to be a disconcerting experience. After each participant had a chance to meet his or her horse, running their hands over their noses, feeling their manes, and touching the flicking muscles on their necks, we headed back to the bunkhouse for free time before dinner. As I walked with the group back to the bunkhouse, I saw Will off to the side, sweaty, take off his shirt and wipe off his face, his muscular torso on display, basically just for me. He saw me and grinned, and I knew the show was on purpose. He even flexed a bicep.

I'd have to think of a way to get him back.

Compromise

THE EXPERIENCE OF ASSISTING visually impaired kids to ride horses would stay with me forever.

Once the kids were up on their horses using a special ramp, the looks on their faces seared into my memory. Sure, they were scared at first, to be that high up off of the ground on an unfamiliar and huge animal. Then, the looks turned to unadulterated terror once the horses started walking. A horse has a sway to its gait that you have to get used to. If you were blind, your body was often hunched over, since you relied on canes, guide animals, or caregivers to get around. But on a horse, sitting up engaged other muscles and other senses, which was so healthy. The wranglers held the ropes and guided each horse and rider slowly around the corral. And after a while, the faces of the children turned to delight.

They were riding horses, actually doing it. So powerful.

After, they described to me the sensations they felt—the scent of the barnyard, the sounds of the horses, the rough feel of the hide of their horse, the lumbering motion of the walk. They also talked about how they felt about riding, from fear to joy. We made a recording of their voices so that they could replay it and remember what they felt when they returned home.

Once we were done, every single one of them wanted to do it again and again.

So they went riding a lot.

Speaking of riding, Will was away from the compound this week, I guess taking care of things around the ranch. But he made a point to walk over to the corral on one afternoon and talk with the kids. He gave them individual attention. But he sure looked over at me often.

When he met Clarissa, of course she wanted to "sing" his hair, so he bent down, all six and a half feet of him and let the little seventeen-year-old touch his curly, brown hair.