Turn It Up (17 page)

“That’s sweet of you. I enjoyed your company. I guess we should head home soon.”

What the hell? All the ease of her flowing conversation of the past hours disappeared into awkward phrases that were completely unlike her. Tasha stood, brushed past him and moved toward the door.

“What’s wrong?” He hurried after her, worried about both her and the baby.

Tasha shook her head. “Nothing. Should we go?”

“Are you sure? Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine. But we should go.”

Max scrambled for inspiration. Whatever weird thing had just happened, he wasn’t going to let it disrupt the good memories of this day. “I wanted to show you something.”

She checked her watch again. “You’re sure you don’t have anything you need to do?”

He forced himself to laugh as naturally as he could, even as his mind raced to figure out what was wrong. “Tasha, I’d swear you were trying to get rid of me or something. Come on, I have nowhere to be, and neither do you. Indulge me. Please?”

She accepted his hand, and he led her back onto the porch, walking slowly along the wide covered veranda that wrapped around the entire house. He kept their hands together, rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of her knuckles. To their left, the surface of the small pond rippled with tiny waves, the slight wind disturbing the surface. The trees swayed, and when she shivered, he pulled her under his arm. Around the first corner the wind died away, blocked by the house, and he pointed to the massive porch swing. “Our destination.”

The firm cushion on the oversized bench seat sank only a little as they arranged themselves. Tasha sat primly at his side, her hands lying in her lap as she gazed at the land surrounding his grandmother’s home.

He rested his arm along the top of the bench seat, drawing circles on her shoulder lazily as he got the swing rocking. Max kept silent, spinning through their conversation in his mind, everything they’d done since arriving at the house, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that would have made her turn formal all of a sudden.

Screw it. He nuzzled under her ear, kissing her neck. If she wanted to be stiff, he’d find a way to relax her. Tasha arched her neck, opening up to his touch, and he smiled against her skin. Even if there was something going on in her brain he didn’t understand, he had learned enough to push her hot buttons. Her remaining tense wasn’t going to make her any more open to confessing what was on her mind. Keeping the swing moving with a gentle motion, he twisted to face her, leaning across her body to slip his fingers into her hair and cup her neck.

He kissed her gently, smoothing his lips over hers, playing with his tongue over the seam of her mouth. She let out a sigh and he felt her loosen up as she kicked off her shoes and snuggled against his side.

All the while, he kissed her, stroking his tongue into her mouth, nibbling on her lips. She moved closer, pressing him back against the bench and straddling his thighs, her hands cupping his face, her body swaying sensuously over his. Oh yes, that was much better. Whatever she was worried about had been pushed aside. Hopefully forgotten. A breeze floated past and she shivered, tucking herself tightly to him.

There were only the light noises of nature on the air, and the wet sounds of their kisses, the heavy intake of breathing as their excitement revved up a notch. He slipped his hands between their torsos to undo her buttons, rearranging her breasts by folding the tops of her bra in half and creating a shelf for the heavy globes to rest on. Then he lifted her to a more upright position, bringing his mouth in line with his goal.

The swing rocked and she jerked, catching her balance.

“Grab my shoulders. I won’t let you fall.” He held her hips and covered one breast with his mouth. Immediately after lowering her hands to his shoulders, she dug in her nails. Her back arched, giving him greater access to every inch of skin as he laved in long, slow strokes around the sensitive peaks.

He deliberately planted his feet on the ground and swung the bench forward, forcing her toward him, then he swayed in the other direction, holding firmly to her hips but causing her upper body to retreat slightly. She laughed, joy and happiness back in her voice, and his heart lightened. That’s what he needed, what he wanted. To have Tasha be herself—the woman he’d fallen in love with. The one who loved life and greeted every day with enthusiasm.

Side to side he alternated on every rock until she squirmed.

“More, I need more.”

She ground her hips down, the heat of her sex passing through the layers of material between them and making him crazy.

“You trust me?”

She looked him straight in the eye as he held his breath. “Of course.”

“I’m pretty sure this will work, but let’s check.” He cupped under her hips, and rose. She clung to him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Her lips distracted him again, and he stopped to kiss her for a moment, letting her slip down his body until she stood crowded against him, feverish heat rising between them to counter the slight chill in the December air. Here on the backside of the house, there were no neighbors to be seen. The house faced the pond and the distant trees on the back of the acreage. He eyed the levels carefully. Oh yeah, it should work.

“Kneel on the bench.”

Tasha grabbed the side support with one hand and laughed. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” He stepped closer, sliding his hands around her waist, until he reached her buttons and zipper. Undoing her pants only took a moment, then he wiggled them past her hips to leave her naked ass facing him.

“You’re insane, Maxwell.”

Down on his knees behind her, he pressed his cheek against her bare butt and licked. “Not insane. Creative. Hold on tight.”

He had other things in mind, but this had to be explored. With his knee wedged under the swing to brace it in place, and one hand still wrapped around her hips, he trailed the fingers of his other hand up the naked skin of her inner thigh until he touched the entrance to her sex.

She shuddered. “This is crazy.”

“Yup. Open your legs wider.”

Tasha obeyed, then let out a squeal as he bent her toward him, exposing her to his mouth. She was wet, and as he explored with his tongue, she blessed his ears with a steady stream of moans and squeals and breathless mutterings until he couldn’t wait another minute.

“Get a good grip on the back of the bench and press your hips toward me.” Max waited until she’d gotten into position before hauling the footstool over. He admired the shape of her ass as he opened his jeans and released his aching cock. “I’ve always loved the view from the swing, but this is better than I remembered.”

Tasha glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “Screw the jokes. You need to hurry up.”

He adjusted the footstool until it was directly below the swing, knelt on it and lined his cock up. It took one slow pass to bury his shaft entirely in her warm welcoming body.

Oh my word. Tasha let out a low cry of approval as he filled her, dropping her head to rest on her hands where she clung to the bench. “Okay, insane or not, this feels great.”

She squeezed him and Max reacted. His fingers where he gripped her hips dug in deeper, and she relished the sensation. This was what she needed. Something raw and wild to take her mind off the doubts that insisted on tormenting her when she least expected them. For just a little while, she didn’t want to ponder if her relationship with Maxwell was going to last. Didn’t want to imagine what she’d do if he didn’t keep his promise and she were suddenly left on her own.

Didn’t want to think about how afraid she was that she might be falling in love with him.

So she pressed back on him harder, looking for the physical connection to distract both of them for a while.

He applied pressure to her hips, the motion carrying down to push the swing away easily, his erection retreating from her body and suddenly she figured it out. “You’re kidding me. This is pretty kinky stuff. You used this swing before?”

“Nope. Never like this, but damn, it looks like it’s going to work.” He released the pressure on her hips and the weight of the swing took her toward him, stabbing his rigid length deep at exactly the right speed.

“Oh God, yeah, it works.” She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact her pants were bunched around her knees, and that he was still fully dressed except for his cock hanging out, now hidden from sight in her body. “Please tell me people don’t regularly go trespassing on Gramma Turner’s land. I don’t need anyone seeing this.”

His hand slid over the rounds of her ass as he continued the steady rocking back and forth. “No one can see but me. And I see everything. Your lips cling to my cock then open—” He choked to a stop.

A wave of arousal slid over her as the tightness in his voice sent her higher. The cut-off words, his evident lust—registered deep. He couldn’t even speak, and his shaft seemed to expand, growing even harder and hotter within her body. He picked up the pace, not simply allowing the bench to swing, but using momentum to make each slam of her ass against his groin that much firmer. She wasn’t frightened the motion was too rough with the rest of her body so well supported.

Her breasts swayed, hanging below the bra he’d moved aside. The edge of the fabric teased her nipples on each rock, enough of a touch that tingles of pleasure threaded through her and boosted the impending climax building in her core.

Max drew the swing to a stop, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her upright against his chest. The folds of her blouse fell open, her breasts bare to his touch and he cupped one, his thumb lightly teasing her nipple against the side of his forefinger. He snuck a hand over her belly and between her legs, fingers unerringly reaching her clit. Somehow he found the leverage to continue to thrust upward, pressing into her with short stabs. All of the sensations combined together, the sensual touches, his heated breath. The sounds from the wind in the trees, that fact it was so wicked and risky to be making love out on the porch. Her orgasm took her by surprise and her core pulsed around him. Max swore as he slowed, then froze deep inside before exploding.

He held her tight for a moment, then somehow got them both vertical and twisted around so she ended up sitting on his lap, still connected. Completely relaxed from her climax, she let him do the arranging of their limbs as he placed her pant-bound legs over his. He pulled her torso back until her head rested on his shoulder and his warm hands languidly roamed over all the bare skin he could reach.

“That’s about the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done.” Tasha twisted her head slightly to rub her lips against his stubble-roughened cheek. He caught her lips with his and they kissed lazily, warm breaths combining as they relaxed.

He buttoned her shirt up without taking his lips from hers. She opened her eyes, but his face was still relaxed, eyes closed even as he dressed her. His cock slipped from her body and he helped her up, straightening and tucking himself away only after he’d made sure she was comfortable and covered. They held hands as they went back to shut up the house, then hit the road to return home. All the while the tenderness in his touch landed in layers and soaked into her soul.

Maybe this whole crazy thing wasn’t a mistake. Maybe she could be brave enough to let go of a few more fears and learn to trust completely.

Chapter Fifteen

The muted sounds of medical equipment carried through the air, the clean scent of antiseptic and that not-quite-pleasant aroma of completely sterile surroundings. Max held on to Tasha’s fingers and tried not to squeeze too tightly.

“I’m dying here.” Tasha wiggled uncomfortably on the bed, her softly rounded belly poking up under the pale blue of her maternity top. He reached with his free hand and stroked the place where their baby was growing. Six months, and there was no denying to anyone that another Turner was on the way.

“I offered to drink the water for you, but they said that wouldn’t work very well.” He brought his chair closer to the bed without having to let go with either hand, and she chuckled lightly, cutting off with a moan.

“Don’t make me laugh or I’m going to pee right here on the bed. I think someone miscalculated how much liquid I needed to drink for this ultrasound to work. Oh…”

His heart leapt. “I felt that. The baby kicked.” He palmed her belly gently, rubbing in slow circles. The sensation didn’t get old—he’d been lying in bed for the past three weeks with his arm wrapped around Tasha, carefully holding her belly to catch as many of the increasingly noticeable movements as possible.

“This little tyke is getting more accurate in targeting vital spots. I know my bladder is full right now, but that doesn’t make it open season.” She dropped her head back on the pillow with a groan and Max’s heart swelled with love. She’d been better lately about not cutting herself off from him emotionally, but there was still something missing. Some part she held in reserve, and that damn prenatal agreement bound his tongue. It was killing him not to blurt out how much she meant to him.

Especially at a time like this. A truly momentous occasion, a memory they would share forever.

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek, nuzzling against her as they waited for the clinician to join them. The faint scent of her soap filled his head, the smell of her skin connecting him with so many memories from the past months. He loved waking in the morning with her cuddled next to him, usually with one leg thrown over his like she was trying to make sure he couldn’t run away.

She didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

Fluttering rumbles continued under his hand as their baby moved and his chest tightened. He had to get his mind on other things, or he was going to be bawling like a baby himself before too long. He brushed one final kiss against her temple before leaning back in his chair, reluctantly pulling his hand away.

“Did you arrange to take the rest of the day off?”

She nodded. “We need to stop in at the house sometime in the next while and make a few decisions about tile and taps and all sorts of things—the finishers have kept a list for us.”