The Fall of Shane MacKade (11 page)

“Yeah.” He was rapidly losing his appetite. “I was a brick.”

He certainly had been, she mused, and he deserved an explanation along with her apology. “You see, I'd had this breakthrough, and…” The expression on his face warned her to fill in those details later. “You're angry with me. You should be. I was awful.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Totally out of control. And you were so restrained and sweet.”

“Sweet.” He spit the word. “You remember what happened?”

“Of course.” A bit surprised that he'd think she'd forget, she leaned back against the counter as she sipped her coffee. “I was—well, pawing you is the only way to describe it. Not my usual style. I'm very grateful you understood it was the wine talking. I wouldn't have blamed
you for leaving me sprawled on the floor here.” Because she was more amused at herself than embarrassed, her eyes laughed over her cup. “I must have been quite a handful. I can't imagine a ridiculously drunk woman is very tempting, but you were very decent, very patient.”

She didn't even have the courtesy to be humiliated, he fumed. And, worse—much worse—she had the gall to make him into some sort of saint. “You were obnoxious.”

“I know.” Then she laughed and cut the last thread of his control. “Still, it was an experience. I've never been so drunk—and don't think I care to be again. I was lucky I did it in private, and it was you who had to deal with me. Can I have a piece of this bacon?”

He was calm, he told himself, listening to the steady, if loud, beating of blood in his head. So he spoke calmly, quietly. “Are you sober now, Rebecca?”

“As a judge.” She nipped at a slice of bacon. “And I'm going to stay that way for a long time.”

Slowly, he nodded, his eyes on hers. “Head clear, all your faculties in order?”

She started to answer, but something in his tone tripped a warning bell. Warily she looked over at him. The dark, dangerous gleam in his eyes had her backing up a step. “Shane—”

He yanked her back and sent the coffee cup she still held flying. “So you weren't tempting?” His mouth, full of fury and frustration, crushed down on hers. “I was sweet?” he added, swinging her around until her back rapped into the refrigerator. “Understanding. Patient.” Between snapped-off words, he continued to assault her mouth.

“Yes. No.” How was she supposed to think, with all the blood roaring in her head?

“You damned near killed me.” He jerked up her chin and plundered, shooting vicious spurts of fire into every
cell of her body. “You know how much I wanted you? Get the picture?”

He gave her one, a very vivid one of hard, impatient lips, rough, ready hands, a body that was tight with tension and steaming with heat. She fought for breath, fought to stay upright as what was left of her mind went to mush.

She was melting against him again, soft, fragrant wax. His blood pumped in response to those soft, sexy sounds she made in her throat. Eager, helpless sounds that turned frustrated lust into a rage of desperate need.

“That's it,” he muttered, and swung her up in his arms.

With a jolt of panic, she pushed a hand against his chest. “Wait.”

“The hell I will.” His eyes flashed at hers, all but searing her. “You'd better say no, loud and clear, and say it fast, Rebecca. Tell me you don't want me, don't want this. And make damn sure you mean it.”

Under her palm she felt the furious beating of his heart, and her hand trembled. She'd thought it was fear, but it wasn't. Oh, no, it wasn't fear. It was longing.

“I can't.” She let out a whoosh of breath. “I wouldn't mean it.”

Triumph suited him. “I know.”

S
he wanted to remember everything, to seal somehow every moment, every sound, every taste, into her mind and heart. She wanted to be able to recapture this incredible feeling of being carried in strong arms, of being wanted, and wanted with such ferocity, by a beautiful man. Of being sampled every few steps by skilled and hungry lips.

She didn't care if he was gentle or rough, patient or frenzied. As long as he didn't stop wanting her.

Then he paused on the stairs, his mouth swooping down on hers in a way that made any thought of the future float away to make room for the all-encompassing present.

On a moan of sheer delight, she wrapped her arms around him and let her own greedy mouth savor the taste of his face, his neck. The tangy flavor of him poured into her until her head swarmed with sound, revolved with half-formed images. The sheer force of her appetite made her shudder. This, she thought, dizzily, was only the beginning.

It no longer surprised her to find that her fingers were
fighting with the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to feel him, touch him, everywhere, all at once.

He was out of breath and laughing by the time he made it to his own bedroom. “This is a lot like last night.” He tumbled to the bed with her. On top of her. “Only better.”

“Can't you get this thing off?” She was laughing, too, hadn't realized it was possible when desire was squeezing every throbbing inch of her body with sweaty fists.

“Yours is easier.” With one expert stroke, he parted her robe. She was milk-pale, narrow of torso. With a low animal sound, he took her breast in his mouth.

The shock of it screamed through her, incited an avalanche of new and unexplored sensations. Even as she struggled to clear her mind to record them, the hands that had been busy on his shirt dropped away to grip frantically at the neat spread beneath.

Each tug, each nip, of his clever and hungry mouth shot arrows of golden heat straight to her center. Each arrow erupted into a dozen more flame-tipped missiles that streaked under her skin, over it, with dizzying speed.

How could anyone survive these sensations? she wondered. How could anyone live without them?

He had her naked in seconds, and feasted on her.

There was panic now—panic at the thought that it was possible to die from pleasure. Her skin was hot and damp, quivering at each pass and stroke of those big, callused hands. Tossed by a tidal wave, she rolled over the bed with him, desperate to keep up.

He couldn't get enough. All that baby-smooth skin, those long, narrow bones, the small, apple-firm breasts. He could smell her shower on her, and simple soap had never been so arousing. He thought he could eat her alive, bite by ravenous bite.

She was writhing under him, wrestling over him, her hands fast and frantic. Those wonderful eyes, the eyes he
could never quite seem to get out of his head, were dark as whiskey now, and vividly intense. Everywhere he touched, she responded as though she'd never been touched before. Shuddering, arching, flowing. A purr, a moan, a gasp.

No woman he'd ever known had ever made him feel so powerful, so free, so needy.

“Damn it.” Dizzy with desire, he sat up to drag at his boots. She reared up, wrapping that wonderful naked body around his, making his vision waver as she raced hurried kisses over his neck and shoulder.

“Hurry.” She pulled up his undershirt and ravished his back. “Oh, I love your body. I just… Mmm…” She slid her breasts over the flesh she'd exposed and drove them both mad.

With an oath, he flipped her over into his lap. His mouth found hers waiting and avid. Her need, as wild as his, poured into him like a shot of raw whiskey.

To please them both, he cupped her, and she was hot and wet. He felt her body stiffen, tasted the warm rush of impact as her breath caught and expelled. She went wild, nails scraping, hips pumping, dazzling him with her unrestricted greed for pleasure.

“I've got to be inside you.” His voice was harsh, his body frantic. Near violence, he shoved her back on the bed, yanked at his jeans. He couldn't remember his hands ever fumbling before, but they did now, in his outrageous and overwhelming rush to possess. “I want to fill you. I want to watch you take me.”

“Hurry.” Her hands were already gripping his hips. Oh, to feel like that again, to know he would send her flying again. “I can't stand it.” She arched up to welcome.

He drove inside her, in one hard stroke. And froze. Shock, disbelief, terror, tangled with desperation when she cried out, when he felt himself ram mercilessly
through her virginity. The muscles in his arms quivered from the strain, and his eyes, half-blind, locked frantically on hers.

“Rebecca. God. Don't move.”

“What?” She was lost, delirious. Oh, the extraordinary feel of him inside her, inside her body, filling her with the sheer glory of invasion. “What?”

“For God's sake, don't move.” He said it through gritted teeth as he fumbled for control. His body quivered on the tether he yanked ruthlessly to hold it in place. Sweet God, she was so hot, and tight, and wet.

“I'm not going to hurt you anymore.” He couldn't get his breath, simply couldn't pull in enough air. “Just give me a minute.”

“What?” she said again. With a primal instinct, she locked her legs around him and rose up.

“Don't—”

The animal took over, clawed aside everything but the urgent need to mate, and leaped free. Helpless to resist, he took her, plunging in deep, driving her to match his frenzied pace until the world seemed to contract to nothing but two bodies, linked. The hard slap of flesh on flesh, the explosive burst of air expelling from labored lungs, the musky smells of sweat and sex, and that glorious sensation of slicked bodies sliding. The dark pleasure swamped him, emptied him.

Weak, he collapsed on her and tried to gather his scattered wits. “I'm sorry” was all he could manage, and that was no more than a whisper. He had to move, knew he had to move, but he simply couldn't. No experience in his life had ever sapped him like this.

He told himself it was because she had been innocent and the guilt was draining him.

She was shuddering beneath him, quick, violent shudders that damned him. He was mortally afraid she was crying.

“Rebecca, you should have told me.” There had to be some way he could soothe her, but this was simply beyond his experience.

“Told you?” she repeated, in a voice almost too faint to hear.

“I wouldn't have pushed you. I wouldn't have— Hell, I probably would have.” He found the strength to ease back and look at her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as the breath raced through them. “I hurt you. I must have hurt you.”

Her eyes opened then. The gold was hardly more than a thin ring around the pupils. Shock, he thought, cursing himself again. But, to his confusion, those swollen lips curved.

“No, you didn't. It felt wonderful. I feel wonderful.”

“But…”

“Does it always feel like that?” She let out a long, satisfied sigh. “So overwhelming, so…huge, as if nothing could stop you from getting from one incredible moment to the next. It's so…” She sighed again. “Primitive.”

“I— No— Yes.” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? To her? “I can't think straight yet.”

Hearing that made her smile deepen. “I wasn't sure I'd be any good at it, but I was. Wasn't I?”

“You…” What the devil was going on? She wasn't crying, she wasn't upset at all. She looked like a cat who'd just dined on a platoon of canaries. More for his own benefit than for hers, he spoke slowly, carefully. “Rebecca, you'd never been with a man before.”

“I wasn't particularly interested in a man before.” She found the strength and started to lift her arms to circle him. Then her smile faded. “I wasn't good at it? I did something wrong? You're not feeling the way I'm feeling?”

“You destroyed me.” Shane rolled off her to lie on his
back and scrub his hands over his face. “I had no control. Even when I realized, I couldn't stop. I should have been able to stop.”

“I'm sorry if I didn't do everything right.” Stiff now with embarrassment, she sat up. “It was my first time, and I'd think you'd have some patience.”

He swore at her and snagged her arm before she could climb regally from the bed. “Look at me. At me,” he repeated, until her sulky eyes met his. “I'm not going to give you a damn grade, but I'll tell you this. I want you. Right now I want you again so much I could swallow you whole. It doesn't even seem to matter that I feel guilty that I was rough. If I'd known, I would have been gentle. I would have taken some care. I would have tried.”

“You didn't hurt me, Shane.” Something in her heart shifted as she lifted a hand to his cheek. “I didn't tell you because I thought it wouldn't happen if you knew. I thought you'd want someone with experience.”

“Who the hell are you?” he murmured. “Why can't I understand you?”

“I'm still working on understanding myself.” Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his, then sighed as he drew her close to cuddle. “This was the most beautiful first of my life. I want to feel this way again. You're an incredible lover.”

“How would you know?” Surrendering, he nuzzled at her throat. “Ah, Rebecca?”

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong with those academic types? How'd they manage to let you get away?”

She rubbed her curved lips over his shoulder. “If you'd known me even a year ago, you wouldn't ask. You wouldn't have looked at me twice.”

“I always look at women at least twice. Any woman.”

She chuckled, enjoying the feel of his muscles under
her hands. “I was a mess, believe me.” It didn't sting to admit it now, not now that she nestled in his arms, still groggy from loving. “A certified geek.”

Amused, he drew her back. “Baby, no geek's ever had eyes like yours. I don't care what's in your brain, those eyes are pure sin.”

She blinked. “They are?”

He laughed and hugged her hard. “We're going to have to make love a lot. It dulls your wits.” He tipped her head back, kissed her lightly. “I've got work that can't be put off, or we'd get started right now.”

Testing, she slid her hands over his chest. “Can you work fast?”

His heart stuttered. Before they could get into trouble, he snagged her hands and lifted them to his mouth. “I think today I can work real fast.”

 

She had work to do herself, but stayed where she was when Shane went downstairs. He would have to eat a cold breakfast, she mused, and found herself wonderfully smug at the knowledge that he'd hungered for her more than for food.

She'd tempted him. Destroyed him, she thought, grinning at the ceiling. His words. What a powerful, wonderful thing it was to be a woman.

As much as she would have loved snuggling in bed with him all morning, she was glad to have the time alone. Now she would be able to relive and savor every moment, every sensation, every surprise.

Dr. Rebecca Knight, prodigy, lifelong nerd, academic wonder and social oddity, had a lover women would kill for. And, at least for a little while, he was all hers.

With a throaty sigh, she lay back amid the tumbled pillows, holding the excitement, the wonder, to her.

He had the face of some dark, clever angel, the hands of a working farmer and the body of… Well, why be conservative? The body of a god.

And if you went beyond the surface—which was outstanding—he was kind and sweet. Volatile, certainly, but that only added to the package. He was sturdy, the kind of man who did what had to be done, who worked hard, loved his family, respected his roots, laughed at himself.

For heaven's sake, he even cooked.

In her estimation, he was as close to perfect as the species came. And wasn't it a fine stroke of luck that she should fall in love with perfection?

She reared up in bed with a jolt. That was a textbook reaction, she reminded herself, swallowing panic. She was mixing emotion with a physical experience. Enlarging affection and attraction into a complicated equation. It was a very typical female response. Sex equals love.

She knew better than that. She was a psychiatrist.

Very slowly, she lay back again. Intelligence, training, even common sense, had nothing to do with it. She laid a hand on her heart gingerly.

Of course she was in love with him. She'd been in love with him all along—the cliché of love at first sight. She'd ignored it, given it different names, fit her newly developed sophistication over it. But it had been there.

Well, what now? Not that long ago, she would have run like a rabbit. No doubt, if she greeted Shane with a declaration,
he'd
run like a rabbit. But wasn't it just one more new experience? An emotion to be added to the others she'd finally allowed herself to feel? The only sensible course of action was to accept it, and deal with whatever came next as best she could.

She had weeks left to enjoy what she could have, and enough experience to know how to live without what she
couldn't have. It might hurt in the end, but she could accept that, too.

Much worse than pain, she well knew, was having nothing at all.

 

With the first days of September gleefully pouring out the last of the summer heat, Shane was sweaty when he headed for the house at midday. He was filthy, a little bloody where he'd scraped his knuckle on a bolt, and afraid he might smell a bit reminiscent of the manure spreader he'd just finished with.

But he'd also worked hard enough, and fast enough, to carve out two good hours of free time. He intended to occupy Rebecca for every moment of them.

He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, and didn't care. He wanted her in bed again, quickly. He needed to see if it had just been the novelty of her, or something more. All he was sure of was that he'd never been so involved, so lost in a woman, as he had been with her.