Just Once (32 page)

“Water. Supplies. The usual.”

“I didn’t take you for a hiker.”

“I don’t go out often. You?”

“Once in a while.”

We cross the small bridge that spans the river that marked the beginning of our “relationship.” I stare at the shallow water and remember how my heart raced when Shane touched me, when he whispered the things he wanted to do to me. I remember how much I wanted him to do those things, how much I still want them.

I find him watching me and blush, wondering if he can read my mind. If he can he doesn’t say so, just takes my hand as we reach the mouth of the trail and enter the forest. The trees loom large and dark around us, providing welcome relief from the heat. At some point Shane lets go of my hand—okay, it’s almost immediately, when it becomes obvious he’s a much better hiker than me—and we trek along in companionable silence.

Sweat trickles down my temple, and I wipe it away. But soon there’s a line snaking down my spine, and another between my breasts. I’m too stubborn to tell Shane to slow down, so I plod along after him, making the occasional noise to show I’m listening when he points out a bird or plant of interest.

“What’d you do before you came here?” I ask finally, so I don’t have to study another fern.

“I told you. We brought the guests to town.”

“I mean before you came to the ranch. For the first time.”

“Oh. I was in school.”

We reach a small ledge and look out at the neighboring mountains: lush, green rolling hills surrounded by clear blue sky. Shane hands me a bottle of water, and I drink gratefully, listening as he tells me he got a degree in physical therapy at LSU.

“Louisiana State?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is that where you’re from?” I hadn’t noticed an accent.

He shakes his head. “I’m from California. We lived on the coast, but my grandfather had a ranch inland. Every summer my brother and I had to work out there.”

“That must have been fun.”

“We hated it. We wanted to be with our friends, skateboarding, chasing girls, swimming in the ocean. Instead we were trucked off to the desert to slave away for three months.”

I laugh. “I thought you liked this work.”

He smiles. “I do now.”

“LSU, huh? I guess that explains how you helped my shoulder.”

“Told you it wasn’t a ploy.”

“So why didn’t you become a physical therapist?”

“Do you really want to talk about this?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Shane sighs. “My grandfather died the day before I graduated. I had a job lined up and was thinking about grad school, but I went back to help with the ranch, to keep it running until they could find someone else to take over. What I didn’t know was that the ranch had been struggling for a long time, and I couldn’t fix it. I tried for two years, but eventually we had to sell.”

“You wanted to stay?”

“Ironic, right? The place I hated the most became the one thing I thought I’d die if I lost. But I lost it. And I didn’t die.”

“And now you’d like to own this place.”

He shrugs. “One day. I figure Hank and Mary will be ready to retire in ten years. Maybe we can work something out. I should have enough saved by then.”

“I like your goal.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I love this place. It’s important that somebody who cares about it keeps it running.”

Shane finishes his water and puts the empty bottle back in his bag. “Let’s keep going. You ready?”

“We’re not done yet?”

He laughs. “A little farther.”

Turns out Shane’s idea of “a little farther” is two grueling hours away. By the time he says “We’re here,” I’ve decided I’m willing to beg him to put that degree to good use. Just as I’m about to fall to my knees, I see what he wanted me to see: nestled into the cliff face is a sparkling waterfall that spills into a small, dark pool.

I’ve seen waterfalls before—bigger, prettier, more tropical waterfalls—but this one takes my breath away. This time I’m with someone who wants to show me, not because he’s my tour guide and it’s his job, but because he wants me to see something he thinks I’ll like. Something he likes.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

He shrugs. “I like it. I know it’s not
Ban Gioc
, but…”

I look at him oddly. “What?”

“That waterfall in Vietnam you wrote about.”

I cock my head. “Did you—”

“I read your book, Kate.”

“You’re the other buyer?”

“What?”

“Hailey bought a copy this week, and the cashier told us someone had recently purchased the other one. That was you?”

Shane looks away. “Yeah.”

“How did you even know about the book?”

“I overheard Matt trying to join your fan club.”

I laugh. “That’s an overstatement.”

He looks at me suddenly, his eyes dark and serious. “I hope so.”

“What do you mean?”

Shane sets the pack on the ground and comes closer, stopping close enough to touch, but not bridging the gap. “That guy likes you.”

“He likes Hailey.”

“And the sous chef likes you too.”

“I’m a really nice person.”

“And Kevin Drew likes you.”

“Do you like me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then stop talking about them and kiss me already.”

Shane smiles and lowers his head, his lips finding mine and brushing back and forth gently. I press my tongue against the seam of his lips but they remain resolutely closed—just more simple, chaste kisses.

I pull away, frustrated. “What’s going on?” I demand.

“What do you mean?”

“With this seventh-grade kissing!”

My favorite eyebrow arches, this time in offense. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you want me or not?”

“I want you.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it? We’re back together, but we’re not? I want you, Shane. You don’t have to treat me like I’ll break if you touch me.”

“You got mad in the cabin.”

“What?”

“After, when I was putting my shoes on. You were pissed about how I treated you. I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I was pissed because you left me there after the most intense—” I break off to regain my composure, so I don’t put all my cards on the table. “I was pissed because you were trying to run away, not because of what you—of what happened.”

“So you liked it?”

“I came, didn’t I? I’m sure you felt it.”

“I thought you felt like I was using you. I mean, you ‘dated’ that Kevin Drew guy, and I’m sure he’s all fancy and rich, taking you to nice places…I thought that’s what you wanted. Respectful.”

“Shane, look at me.”

Eventually he returns his gaze to mine.

“I like everything about you.”

He looks doubtful.

“No one has ever made me come the way you do. You’re right—I’m used to guys like Kevin Drew. But I don’t miss them. I miss you. I miss the way you touched me. I love it when you say you’re going to fuck me—I don’t think it’s disrespectful. But this sweet, preteen style of kissing…”

“Preteen?” Shane exclaims.

“It’s not going to cut it. If you’re not going to man up—”

“Man up?” He takes a threatening step forward.

“And do what I know you’re capable of doing—”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of, Katharine Burke.” Now he’s trying not to smile.

I back away from his advancing form. “I don’t know. Should I write this down for you?”

He undoes his belt buckle with deliberate menace, sliding the leather through the loops. “No,” he says. “I think I’ve got it.”

“I’ve already warned you about belts.”

He laughs and drops it, then lunges forward, hooking a leg under mine and toppling me to the ground. He uses an arm to cushion my fall and covers my body with his, his delicious weight pressing me into the spongy earth. One knee grinds between my legs and rubs against me roughly, eliciting a groan.

“Is this what you want?”

“You’re on the right track.”

Suddenly Shane rolls off and I sit up, confused. “Wha—?”

I watch as he crouches in front of the rucksack, undoing the clasps and pulling out a wool blanket, which he spreads over the ground. He looks at me from under a critical eyebrow. “Why are you still dressed?” he asks.

“You brought a blanket?”

Still low to the ground, he comes back over and pulls my T-shirt over my head. He pushes a hand down the front of my shorts, cupping my damp pussy through my panties. “Take off your clothes,” he growls, “and get in the water.”

I look at the waterfall. It’s beautiful, but it can wait. “I’d rather—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. “Now.”

Shane steps out of his boots and whips off his shirt, standing to remove his pants. “I wanted to fuck you in the pool so bad I thought I’d die,” he says, eyes never leaving mine.

I take off my bra. “Was there really a wayward calf?”

“Yeah, but Connor could have found it.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Fuck you? Because anyone could have come by.”

I stand and wiggle out of my shorts. “Is that the only reason?”

“No, Kate. I wanted to fuck you—hard—and I didn’t think you wanted me to. So I wanted to wait until I’d cooled off and could do things slow and polite. But every time I got near you, slow and polite went out the window.”

“But today you feel…polite?”

He takes my hand and wrenches me forward, then pulls off my flimsy panties with a tearing noise. I stare in shock at the scrap of fabric hanging from his fingers. No one—and I mean no one—has ever literally ripped off my clothes before.

“I’m feeling very polite,” he says, shucking his boxer briefs before tossing me over his shoulder and striding toward the water.

I shriek and punch at his bare ass. “Careful,” he warns. “Anything you do to me I’m going to do to you ten times over.” I stop hitting, and he laughs. “Good to know.”

He has one hand slung behind my knees to hold me in place, and I squeal as the other delves between my thighs, testing my wetness. “Not there yet,” he says matter-of-factly, though my clit would beg to disagree. “Maybe this will help.”

Shane dumps me into the water and jumps in after. It’s surprisingly deep—and cold—and I shoot back to the surface, hair in my eyes, sputtering.

“Not helpful!” I squawk, shivering. “That was the opposite of helpful.”

He moves toward me, just his head and shoulders breaking the surface. “I don’t know,” he says, reaching forward to pick me up, lifting me out of the water so my breasts are visible. Thanks to the cold, my nipples are tight and aching, and he sucks one into his mouth, his hot tongue making me moan.

My head drops back. “Oh God.”

“He can’t help you now.” Shane turns his attention to my other nipple, biting down harder than expected and making me jerk in his arms. “Remember,” he warns, not removing his mouth. “Only say no if you mean it.”

“You make me forget,” I whisper.

Shane looks up and pulls me forward to straddle his waist, raising his lips to mine. “Me too.”

Finally—
finally
—he kisses me. A real, passionate kiss with his hand in my hair and his tongue taking control. The kind of kiss that leaves no doubt he wants this as much as I do.

His free hand slides down my back, tickling my spine. Then he cups my ass, the tips of his calloused fingers sliding between my slick cheeks, stopping at the one place no one has ever been.

I pull back and look into his eyes. “No,” I whisper.

The hand moves lower, finding my waiting core and pushing one finger inside. He swallows my groan and finger-fucks me like this for a long time, eventually adding a second finger. I’m bobbing up and down on his hand, his cock pressing into my stomach, growing harder and harder with each passing moment.

“I want to come with you,” I plead.

“You will,” he answers. “Later. But I want you begging for it.”

“I don’t beg.”

He smiles. “You will.”

He lets me go, and the pool is too deep for me to stand, so I tread water as he advances on me, stopping only when my back meets the cold, wet rock face. The waterfall splashes down beside us, drowning out the forest noise. Shane puts two fingers in his mouth then lowers his hand beneath the water, back to my pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he orders softly.

“I’ll drown.”

He hooks a hand under my arm and holds me up. “Do it.”

I do, gasping when those same two fingers push into me, curling forward to stroke the spot on my inner wall that makes everything else cease to matter. “Shane.”

His thumb finds my clit and presses down hard, circling roughly. “Come.”