What Might Have Been (8 page)

She shook her head…but took two more steps before her brain stopped the forward motion.

Even as she halted, her body strained toward him. Her breasts, free beneath the slightly damp T-shirt she'd thrown on, swayed against the material. The threads that had been soft and worn just moments ago were now torture devices for her raised and begging nipples. Even they were drawn to him and the oblivion of sexual release that she knew they'd find together.

He was right; they'd been spectacular in bed. He'd more than rocked her world, and she had no doubt that Luke could do it again. And again. And again.

If she let him.

With a groan, he dropped the outstretched arm across his eyes, shielding himself from her.

“Why are you torturing us both? Either come here, Ainsley, or go away. Your choice, but make it now before I lose what little control I have left.”

She finally looked at him, not just at the overt evidence of his arousal but to the signs beneath. The tension that bowed his shoulders and hips down into the
dock, the need stamped clearly in his drawn jaws and corded neck.

She'd done nothing short of look at him and his erection appeared hopeful and impatient. She wasn't the only one fighting against a need so hard it hurt.

They had that in common. And they could find relief in each other.

And at this precise moment relief felt like the most important thing in her life. From the sexual tension that had done nothing but climb since he'd walked in the front door. From the whipcord strength of the memories he'd brought with him. From the swirling emotions she wasn't strong enough to deal with right now.

And he could give that to her. She could give it back.

Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she crossed her arms, pulled it over her head in one swift motion and threw it behind her into the trees.

He must have thought the rustling sound had been her hasty retreat. With a large sigh, he released the breath he'd been holding and dropped his arm back to his side with a thud.

When his eyes finally rolled up to see her, half-naked, standing at his head, the shock hit him hard. Although it was quickly replaced with a desire so hot it almost scared her. It burned so bright, she wasn't sure she could live up to his expectations.

She'd been a rather limber and adventurous teenager when they'd been together before. Her muscles had definitely lost some of their elasticity.

And she'd carried a baby for six months and had a few stretch marks to prove it.

But he obviously couldn't see any of that. His eyes traveled down the length of her body, a caress she felt to the tips of her toes.

He surged up from the dock in one quick and graceful motion to stand before her. She expected him to reach for her, to pull her in and take over. She'd gone as far as her impetuous gesture could take her.

Instead, he stood for several seconds, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

And with a rush, turned away, shooting back into the water, all gleaming muscles and flashing skin.

 

H
E SURFACED JUST IN TIME
to see her running away. With a groan, he realized that she'd taken his quick plunge into the cool water completely wrong. He hadn't been trying to escape from her, but regain some measure of his control and sanity. If he'd reached for her, standing before him half-naked in the moonlight… He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep himself from tearing into her.

He'd wanted her that badly.

More than he'd ever wanted another woman in his entire life. Even Ainsley herself.

While his need for her eight years ago had been a constant ache at the center of his body, it had been nothing to the burning obsession that had almost taken over every speck of him…including his sense of reason.

All he'd wanted was to grab her, roll them both to the ground and take everything she had to offer him.

Not the best way to finesse a woman.

He could yell out. Stop her. But he didn't.

It was better this way.

Better they not start something that couldn't go anywhere and would only end up hurting them both. Again.

Better they not dredge up a past that would always loom between them.

Diving back under the water, he closed his eyes and held his breath. The currents he'd created eddied around him, holding his body suspended in the murky depths. He wasn't afraid, knowing he could reach down with his toes and push himself up from the bottom at any time.

What he needed was the solitude and loneliness of the small pond. The pressure for air burning against his lungs made him concentrate on another pain besides the ache in his groin.

The ache to have her. The ache to make her his again.

But she wasn't his. Hadn't been for a very long time.

Even as his vision grayed from pushing himself to the edge, the way she'd looked standing before him filled his mind.

Beautiful. Her skin, dusky and pale in the moonlight. Her hair, damp and disheveled from her own swim in the pond, falling over her shoulder to curl gently around her breasts. The tips of them as dark as the skin of an overripe peach. He'd bet they were as velvety and luscious, too.

As much as the vision of her had been mesmerizing
and almost more than he could handle, it was the memory of the expression in her eyes that had him groaning in a loud rumble.

Bright with passion, glittering with a need that echoed through his body even now. And just as he'd turned from her, the dismay and bewilderment had replaced the desire.

He was going to have to talk to her. To convince her that he hadn't rejected her.

Shooting up from the water, Luke was out of the pond in record time. He didn't even bother to grab his clothes, instead leaving them in a pile beside the dock as he tore off through the trees after her.

He couldn't let her go. Not like this.

A
NGER AND RESENTMENT
burned in her throat like acid. How could he turn from her that way? How? When she had swallowed her pride and offered him absolutely everything?

She knew how. He was an arrogant, sadistic SOB who delighted in cutting her to the core.

She yanked at the shirt she'd scooped up as she'd run past him and tugged it over her head even as her bare feet pounded into the dense ground beneath her. Dirt squished up through her toes and every now and then a small jab of pain shot through the soles of her feet.

She should have stopped to snag her shoes, too, but hadn't immediately seen them in the dark and hadn't wanted to wait around to look for them. Besides, the pinch of pain was fuel for her anger as she ran through the trees.

The rustling branches seemed to whisper to her, “Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.”

She couldn't agree more.

What kind of moron was she? A desperate one, apparently.

She hadn't realized just how desperate until she'd turned to him. To Luke, the last person on earth she should have wanted.

Her lungs burned, against the effort and the disappointment and rejection. She inhaled a ragged breath and knew she needed to stop for a second before she collapsed.

Turning off, she went to the far side of a tree and sank onto the ground at the base of the trunk.

Ainsley hugged her knees up to her chest and pressed her forehead to them. She could feel the dampness of perspiration from her hairline as it stuck her skin together. Clammy and uncomfortable, she left her head there anyway, preferring that to facing what she'd just done.

While she could pretend to be angry with Luke, she was really more upset with herself. What had possessed her to throw herself at him like that?

Lust. Pure and simple.

What was it about that man that had her throwing away all her principles, resolve and sense of self-preservation?

With him, the promise of a few fleeting moments of pleasure overrode absolutely everything else. And it always had.

He had been her one and only act of defiance. Apparently, she was still willing to throw everything away for the chance to be in the presence of his ambition and
determination. For the chance to believe that the world was just as he always saw it, ripe with possibilities and open to absolutely everything.

She knew better.

Life was a string of disappointments and grief relieved by whatever contentment you could create in between.

The tightness in her chest began to ease as she sat there. The muscles in her body soon relaxed and after a moment she found her head rolling sideways so that her cheek rested on her upraised knees.

She looked out over the vista of trunks before her. From her vantage point on the ground, she could see very little without straining her neck. Not worth it. A breeze she hadn't realized was there rippled through the leaves and touched her clammy skin.

She heard him then, the light, quick steps as he ran toward her.

She should have moved so he wouldn't see her. Instead, she just sat there and waited.

 

H
E REACHED DOWN, WRAPPED
both hands around her upper arms and pulled her off the ground. And straight into his arms.

“Don't run away from me again.”

“I didn't—”

Her protest was cut off by the press of his mouth to hers. The kiss consumed her, turning her knees to water and knocking everything else away.

Everything except the feel of him.

However, when he let her up for a brief snatch of air
the words were right where she'd left them, on the tip of her tongue.

“I was never the one to run away, Luke. That was always you.”

With a growl of protest—whether at her words or at the truth of them she wasn't certain—he crushed his mouth to hers again. One thing was for sure. He had better plans for her mouth than speech.

His tongue thrust deep inside, sparring with her. His lips were hard, savage at first. She wasn't sure what or who he was fighting. Certainly not her. Did she want to blast him for turning away from her? Absolutely. But she couldn't think of what she needed to say.

Did he expect her to protest that this wasn't right? It wasn't. But apparently, that didn't matter much. Not to her body that cried out at even the thought of letting him go.

She scraped her teeth across his bottom lip, fighting back, refusing to just give in and let go. Nipping down hard on his tongue, not enough to draw blood but enough to tell him she was far from the shy and obedient girl she'd once been. He'd find it hard to dominate her, even with his strength and experience giving him the upper hand.

Ainsley wrapped one leg high above his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the small of his back and pushing his body closer. She grabbed handfuls of hair at the nape of his neck and tugged him tight to her body. She wasn't gentle and knew that when she did let go strands of his dark hair would be intertwined with her fingers.

His hands scraped down both sides of her back, arching her body into his, straining her spine for that last final inch that would bring them closer.

Pulling away, she let her head drop back, her neck needing relief as much as her lungs needed an intake of breath.

This time, there were no words. They needed none. Their hands and eyes and lips spoke for them. They both understood, consumed by something neither of them really wanted. Unable to deny themselves or each other.

The night seemed to close in around them. The breeze stilled. Sound stopped. Even the moon disappeared, leaving them lost in a space devoid of anything but each other.

Luke's hot mouth trailed down the open invitation of her throat. He nipped and licked and breathed her in. She raised her head to watch him, enjoying the glitter of desire deep in his eyes as he watched back.

He was still naked and she could feel his erection pressed tight to the center of her sex. The thin running shorts she'd pulled on were little protection against the heat and insistency of him.

He was hard and tight against her and the nylon was quickly slippery with the evidence of her own desire. The scrape and friction as it worked against her was becoming unbearable.

Even as her focus settled squarely where she wanted him most, Luke seemed perfectly happy to draw out the experience. Somewhere in the moments of her dis
traction, he'd gone from harsh and hungry to soft and persuasive.

His mouth, no longer savage, was coaxing and gentle as he eased it from the center of her throat to the edge of her collarbone, stopped only by the worn neck of her threadbare T-shirt.

His fingers curled in the neck, stretching it away from her body to give him better access to her skin.

His lips followed, feather-light kisses that did nothing but make her burn hotter. They were just above her aching breasts beneath the waiting cloth. Where she wanted him most, he couldn't reach.

As he strained toward her, his tongue licking out across her skin like a snake's seeking warmth, she let out a whimper of frustration.

His chuckle snapped her head up so she could look into his eyes and see the mischief there. The sharp edge of his half smile told her everything she needed to know.

He was doing it on purpose.

Hell-bent on thwarting him, Ainsley reached down for the hem of her T-shirt, ready to take it off and remove his avenue of torture. Before she could, he shook his head, crumpled the neck tight in both fists and ripped.

The material tore beneath his hands as easily as a piece of paper and fluttered to her feet.

She stood there, speechless for about three seconds before saying, “I liked that shirt, damn you.”

“Not as much as you'll like this.”

His words brushed across her skin a second before his teeth clamped tight around her waiting nipple. Her body
arched, a combination of blinding pleasure and pain that made her want to scream. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. That was precisely what he hoped for.

Even as she bit back the response, her nails dug into the tender flesh of his neck, her body arching into his mouth, as she urged him closer.

But two could definitely play at this game.

Reaching down she wrapped her hand around the length of his erection and squeezed. His breath backed up into his lungs; she could see the swell of his ribs, could feel the snap of tension as it whipped through his body. “Heathen,” he whispered against her, but she could also feel the stretch of his smile against her skin. “When did you become such a hellcat?”

“There are a lot of things you don't know about me.”

The most important of which was that she was quickly approaching the end of her rope. It had been a long time since she'd had sex and she was walking a tightrope of not wanting it to end and needing the release so badly she thought she'd die without it.

As if he could sense the urgency pulling on her, he reached down, wrapped both of her legs around his waist and backed her up until she was flush against the trunk of the tree that just minutes ago had been her sanctuary. Now it was the springboard for the most pleasure she'd experienced in longer than she cared to remember.

The rough bark bit into her skin. In the morning she'd be covered in scratches. Right now, she didn't give a damn.

What she did care about was the way he pressed into her body, the hard length of his erection sitting just where she needed it most. Her sex burned, an ache that only he could ease. And he was so close. Relief was so close. All that stood in the way of that moment were the flimsy shorts she still wore.

“Condom?”

And the realization that neither of them had birth control. It wasn't as if she'd expected this to happen when she'd thrown on her running clothes. And even if Luke had…his clothes were still at the pond apparently.

With a groan, she shook her head. “Sonofabitch.”

Luke let out a shocked laugh, more a burst of sound and air than amusement. “My thoughts exactly.”

As he eased away from her, she thought he was going to let her go…end it all right here, right now. Her body protested, her hands clinging to his arms, a whimper leaking through her parted lips.

What surprised her was his moving back in, whispering, “Shh,” against her lips. He wasn't going to leave her panting and burning.

His hand made its way beneath the thin barrier of cloth, finding the slippery heart of her sex. Her world al most imploded simply from his touch. Her vision grayed at the edges and her eyes automatically slid shut. She wasn't sure if she still breathed…wasn't sure it mattered one way or the other. If she died now, like this, then at least she would be happy.

A single finger slipped inside her, and then another.
The walls of her sex spasmed on the pleasure of the intrusion.

He began to work her, slowly at first, but quickly realizing that she was so close to the edge it wouldn't take much. His fingers slid in and out, his thumb rubbed the nub of flesh above. Her body tightened, fighting for and against what he offered her.

Her hips pumped against him, her back pushing tight into the trunk of the tree. Pain and pleasure mingled so tightly she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

He whispered in her ear, words she couldn't decipher, words that didn't matter. She only knew he pushed her on, higher, harder, faster.

A scream erupted from her throat as her body quaked and gave in to what he wanted, gave in to him.

The release was staggering. The best orgasm she'd ever had. But it wasn't enough. Even as her mind floated away she knew there was more.

She was unsatisfied. She wanted Luke. And she wanted him now.

 

N
EED POUNDED THROUGH
his body, like the ebb and flow of a tide, sucking against the sand and pulling it out to sea. His desire for her was a living thing, a force he couldn't possibly conquer.

And he needed her now.

More than this childish grope in the dark, he wanted to see her, feel her, taste and consume her.

He wanted everything she'd give him.

And then he wanted more.

She still sagged against the tree, her eyes closed, her lungs sucking in air. He could wait for her to recover, coax her into coming back to his room where he had a handful of condoms.

But why?

She might come to her senses and decide that they'd gone far enough, or think what they'd done so far was a mistake. He wasn't taking that chance.

Leaning down, he swept her legs out from under her, toppling her back into his other arm, and crushed her to his body.

Her squeak of surprise might have been funny, if he'd been coherent enough to notice. What he did perceive was the way she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him and pulling herself even closer into his hold.

She shifted against him, rolling her body so that her breasts pressed solidly against his bare chest and her face buried snugly into the crook of his neck. He could feel the rise and fall of her breaths against his skin, the tormenting rub as her nipples slid up and down his chest.

Her breath touched him, moist and light, a tickle of sensation that drove him absolutely mad. She could reach out with her mouth, her fingers, anything. But she didn't. She simply let the moist air through her tempting lips caress him.

He strode across the orchard. They weren't far from the house; he could see the faint lights from the up stairs windows, his room and hers. Four minutes, tops,
and they'd be there together, taking up where they'd left off.

“I can walk, you know.”

It was almost the first thing she'd said to him from the moment she'd laid eyes on his naked body.

“I'm not taking that chance. I let you down, you might run away.”

Her body tensed in his arms but he had no idea why. Was she frightened? Angry? Disappointed?

“And that would be bad?”

There, in the single tremor on the last word, the only giveaway of the vulnerability she was excellent at hiding. He hated to see that vulnerability, a reminder of the terrible childhood he couldn't change for her. There was one sure way to make it disappear…if only for a little while.