The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (26 page)

“Would it be so horrifying to think about adjusting to it…just a little?”

She lifted her eyes to his, clearly wary. “I'm not Eliza Doolittle. I'm happy in my mucky world.”

“Anyone who spends five minutes with you sees that. Speaking of which, I've spent some time in your world. Willingly.”

“You were just digging for dirt.”

He conceded that. “In the beginning.”

“Are you trying to tell me that if you were convinced that things were fine with me and all my problems were solved, that you'd continue to pursue your riding lessons?”

“If you'd asked me that the day of my first lesson, I'd have said no.”

“But now you have a sudden burning desire to ride?”

“Now I want to know more about your world. And if that means getting up close and personal with those half-ton crazed beasts you love, then, yes…I want to learn to ride them.”

She took a moment to digest that, and, in the end, didn't question his sincerity. He took it as a sign of progress. What the hell he was progressing toward, he had no earthly idea, which was why he was taking his own advice and not over-analyzing it. All he knew was he was right where he wanted to be.

“So…what expectations do you have of me? You're willing to learn to ride—what will I have to learn?”

“I have no idea. You look around and feel out of place. I look at you here, and wonder how I can convince you to hang around for awhile.” He ran his hands up her arms. “I like you here. But then, I'm admittedly liking you anywhere I happen to be.” He leaned in closer, dipped his mouth closer to hers. “It doesn't matter where that is, or whether we're surrounded by the finest hand-tooled leather chairs, or hand-tooled leather saddles. You fit in, because you fit me.”

He kissed her then, sliding his fingers into her hair, then down the length of her braid, where he slid the elastic band free and began to unwind those thick, dark tresses.

“Rafe—”

“Let me,” he murmured. “You run your hands through my hair and I love the way that feels. Let me do the same.” He continued to unweave the heavy plait, punctuating his words with kisses along her jaw, to the soft underside of her chin. She sighed and tipped her head back, and he was torn with the twin desire to grin in victory…and pull her down to the carpet right where they stood and bury more than his hands in her hair.

He shook the heavy waves free, then finally slid his hand to the nape of her neck, sank his fingers into her hair, and tipped her mouth up to his again. She groaned deep in her throat as he raked his fingertips along her scalp, his kiss growing hungrier with every little sound she made.

Her hands were on his shoulders, but rather than push him away, she dug her nails into the muscle there and kissed him back, her appetite every bit as voracious as his.

Whatever restraint he'd had, whatever pace he'd thought to take with her, slowly seducing her into his world, into his bed, disintegrated along with his carefully maintained control. Every inch of him was rock-hard and aching. His need to taste her, to breathe in her scent, to touch, revel in the earthiness that so intoxicated him, felt suddenly vital.

With one hand still cupping her head, keeping her mouth fused to his, he let his other hand explore, first sliding down to solid roundness of her shoulder. He found he didn't mind that there were hard angles to her, and muscle, both necessities of the life she led. But when he released the catch of her overalls so the front bib fell open, and slid his hand further down, past the ridge of her collarbone, he found her soft places, too. He loved the way the swell of her breast fit him perfectly as he cupped his palm there.

She let out a soft moan, and pushed against him in primal response as he rubbed his fingertip across the tip of her nipple until it became a rigid nub, pressing it against the soft cotton of her faded t-shirt. She didn't wear a bra, which only pushed him closer to the edge.

The taunting of her hips grinding into his, begging him to sink every aching inch between those long legs of hers, and the need to take that taut little nub between his lips and teeth and tease and taunt her until he drove her wild, sent him right to the edge of restraint.

He flicked open the catch on the other shoulder, and tugged at her t-shirt, pulling it up. She kept her fingers deep in his hair, his mouth mated to hers, as he tugged and yanked and eventually bared her to him. There hadn't been much time for this in her truck, so he wanted to revel in it now. Her skin was smooth and soft, with a hint of a natural glow, and a scattering of tiny freckles that beckoned him to trace each and every one with his tongue. But the full, plump perfection of those nipples demanded all of his attention.

She growled when he closed his mouth over the first one, cupping his palm over the other. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, his body seeking its place inside hers with rapidly growing insistence. But he couldn't have both. Yet.

He slid his hands to her hips, sliding her overalls down further, baring her to her hips, where a scrap of something yellow caught his attention. But her hands were back in his hair, urging him to keep his focus—and his tongue—on her nipples. He grinned at her demands, which only served to jack him up even higher. Feeling somewhat primal himself, he backed her up against the bookshelf and slid his hands behind her thighs, pulling her legs up around his hips. She gripped the shelves over her head, arching her back; he took every advantage of the invitation and suckled, licked, nipped, and savored her sweet breasts until he thought they'd both lose their minds.

Her thighs were so tightly wrapped around him he could barely breathe. Strong and muscled from years of gripping something a hell of a lot more powerful than he was had him all but dying to strip her down and let her ride him as naturally and beautifully as she did those powerful beasts. He might die from the pleasure of it, but, at that moment, he was pretty damn sure it would be worth every last breath.

He slid his hands inside her overalls and down over the soft silk of her panties, teasing his fingers along the edge of the elastic as far as he could reach, while still enjoying the way her nipples teased his tongue.

She started bucking almost immediately.

“Rafe…” It was one word—raw and demanding. And far be it from him not to give the lady what she wanted.

He swung her away from the bookshelf. She grabbed at his head for balance, burying his face in her breasts as he blindly staggered them to the soft leather couch that fronted the fireplace. They bumped up against the back of it, then went sliding over the thickly padded backrest and landed on the cushions with her finally where he wanted her, beneath him, legs parted, welcoming him between them.

Except there were way too many clothes still in play.

Once again, her demands paralleled his as she worked her fingers between them and tugged at the button of his pants. They were both working toward the same goal. He was tugging down her overalls and she was tugging at his pants when a short buzz sounded, followed by Kate's voice echoing through the office.

“Rafe? You in there? I have a very…aggressive individual in my outer office asking after Elena. Tracey seems to think you're aware of this and that Elena is with you. What are you planning to do about this?”

At the first word, Elena had frozen beneath him.

Shit.
Clearly Mac hadn't had the chance to say anything to Kate, mainly because he'd asked him not to yet. Dammit. “You don't happen to have a gun on you, do you? Because, at the moment, I'm perfectly fine with you shooting the bastard.”

Elena started to squirm, trying to slide out from under him. He pinned her down. “Kidding,” he whispered to her. “Mostly. I let Mac take care of shooting people and he's not here at the moment.”

Still keeping her half-naked beneath him, he lifted his head and spoke in the direction of the intercom. “Let him cool his heels for a few minutes. Next time he can make an appointment.”

“There's going to be a next time? Something you want to share with me?”

“Yes, but not at the moment. Trust me, I'm handling it.”

“I'll just bet you are,” Kate muttered under her breath, but it came through loud and clear.

“Oh, God.” Elena started struggling anew.

“Thanks, Kate,” Rafe said.

There was a pause, then, “Elena?”

Cheeks a flaming red now, Elena nodded, then seemed to realize that wasn't going to convey anything, and choked out, “Yep. I'm here.”

There was another static-filled pause, then, “Ah. Really sorry.”

“You know,” Rafe put in, “you and Mac aren't the only ones who—”

“I said I was sorry,” Kate said, hurriedly cutting him off. “What can I do to help?”

“Stall the guy and get the info off his truck plates for me.”

“Will do.”

“Let me up,” Elena whispered fiercely. “At this rate, I'll be lucky if I still have a job by sundown. First Tracey, now this.”

Rafe didn't budge. “I was kind of enjoying you right where you are.”

She squirmed. “Not kidding.”

He sighed and levered himself off of her, then helped her up, catching her to him when she would have turned her back.

“I know that was awkward. I'm sorry. I really am. But—” He held tight when she tried to turn away. “Regardless of awkward outside interference, please don't ever hide from me.” Her shirt was still pushed up, her breasts bared, her overalls hanging down around her hips and her hair a wild tangle around her face. He'd never seen anything so fantastically beautiful in his entire life. “You're breathtaking.”

“Let's not get patronizing.”

He tugged her hips forward, so they met his own. “Still doubt me?”

She visibly swallowed, and he couldn't help but smile when her hips instinctively moved a bit on his before she moved back.

“I don't think I can do this,” she said.

“Do what, exactly?”

She waved a hand between them. “This.” She started to straighten her clothes, but he brushed her hands away.

“If you must, allow me. After all, I was responsible for getting you half-naked—it's the least I can do.”

“I wasn't exactly beating you off with a stick.” She tugged at her shirt.

He sighed as she covered herself. “A crime, really.”

“Please.” She untangled the buckled straps of her overalls and hooked them over her shoulders, but he stopped her when she started to pull her hair back.

“Leave me with something.”

She just rolled her eyes. “You'd think you're starved for it or something, when I happen to know it was just yesterday that we—”

He stopped her with another fast, hard kiss. “That was light years ago. I think I'll always be starved for you.” He was kissing her again and she was responding, then suddenly she pushed him away and shook her head.

“I swear, I have no restraint around you. It's crazy, is what it is. I've never behaved so unprofessionally in my life.” She flung her hand in the direction of the intercom. “That was my boss, for God's sake.”

“Who is living with my partner, so I seriously doubt she's going to have a problem with us having a relationship.”

His use of the “r” word rattled her a little, but, to her credit and his supreme satisfaction, she didn't back down. Instead, she squared her shoulders—and damn beautiful shoulders they were—and looked him in the eye. “Fine. But no more naked time during business hours. It just confuses and distracts.”

“But—”

“Aha, see? You should see your face. It's like I told you there's no Santa. We have to get a grip on this.”

“I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a disappointing rule, but…okay.”

Now she looked wary. “Okay?”

He tucked his hands in his pockets. It was either that or he'd have them in her hair again. And then he was pretty sure some level of nakedness was going to occur and rules just barely established would already be broken, and, well…he curled his hands into fists. “Yes, okay.” Then he grinned. “But the rule applies to you, too.”

She backed up a step. “No coercing, no seducing.”

He shrugged, enjoying himself now. “Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“It's your call. Anything else? Any other boundaries I should respect?” He took a step closer, grinned when she took another step back.

“Boundaries? I don't know,” she said, looking a little disconcerted now, and a little nervous. He liked that last part. “Just…keep your hands off of me. I can't think when you're touching me, and thinking—keeping a clear head—is imperative. I mean, we've got an investigator stomping around out there and am I doing something about it? No. I'm in here about to do the horizontal tango with you. You see my point?”

He couldn't help it, he glanced down. “Both of them.” He caught her hand before she could smack at his shoulder, and tugged her closer.