A Risk Worth Taking (14 page)

Quickly, he reined in those long-term images. He was getting way ahead of himself, and apparently, where Abby was as well. Beyond discussing Help and Hope’s picnic, any time he mentioned the future, she changed the subject. It was killing him not to bring up her move to London.

From their first kiss, he’d been completely addicted. The kick he got from gazing into her warm eyes or tasting that sweet spot behind her ear was better than any speed-induced adrenaline rush. The thoughts of his addiction moving thousands of miles away made him more than a little irrational. More than once he’d thought of asking her not to go.

He gripped the handlebars, knowing what a selfish pig that would make him. He was in love with her, he’d known that for weeks, but what he also had come to realized that beyond lust and passion, he just plain loved her and because of that he wanted what she wanted.

Thinking right now what she probably wanted was a break, he asked, “You ready to stretch your legs?”

“I could stop,” she answered, her voice sounding smooth as a bottle to twelve year-old scotch.

Grant eased them off the road by an open field. After Abby slid her leg over the back of the bike, he twisted on the seat to open the far saddlebag. Beneath the folded plaid blanket lay a canvas drawstring bag. “I thought we’d have a picnic.”

Abby tugged off her helmet and finger combed her hair. Then when she saw what he had, her lovely face brightened into a wide smile. She reached for the bags and began pulling out sandwiches, drinks, and plastic bags of fruit and sweets. “You thought of everything.”

“I had help,” he admitted with a grin and a reminder to himself to send his friend’s wife a big thanks. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led them up the gentle swells of an open pasture. Surrounded by bright green clover, he flicked the blanked open then tugged her to the ground. He tore into a bag of grapes, then popped one into Abby’s mouth. “What do you think?”

She eyed him darkly and inched closer. With a kiss on his jaw she purred, “I think that I’ve been riding a five-hundred-pound vibrator for the last two hours and I want to make love to you.”

Grant looked around at the rolling hills and back over his shoulder to the road. The tips of the handlebars were barely visible from their spot. “Here?”

A wicked grin bloomed on her face. “Why not?”

Grant let the bag of grapes fall to the blanket and pulled Abby on top of him. “I think I should have taken you riding weeks ago.”

As Grant tugged her shirt up, Abby knew she’d lost her mind. Respectable women did not have sex in wide open fields. But, for some reason as he latched on to her breast and began suckling her through the lace of her bra, she didn’t care what other women did. Since she’d met him, he’d pushed, teased, and cajoled her into taking risks she’d have never considered. Abby wanted to show him just how far she’d come under his tutelage.

The scent of spring grass and the gentle breeze fanned the already erotic need growing in her belly. She slid downward along his body then began unbuckling his belt.

“What are you doing?”

Abby met his eyes, her hands still busy with his zipper. “What does it look like?”

She took him in her mouth, loving the velvet-over-steel feel of him against her tongue. Wrapping her fingers around his base, she set a rhythm designed to slowly torture him. When she licked around his head, he torqued his hips, pressing himself deeper.

She moaned around his length. Bringing him pleasure that way made her hotter than she’d ever thought possible. Drawing in her cheeks, she took him to the back of her throat.

“God, Abby. You’re killing me.”

She answered by reaching inside his jeans to cup his heavy twin weights. She had every intention of finishing what she’d started, but he stilled her with the brush of his hand against her cheek.

“I want to be inside you.”

Rolling off him, she made quick work of her shoes and socks. Then from the corner of her eye, she saw him reach in his jeans for a condom. Watching his fingers roll the latex over his hard length had her yanking at her own jeans. He stalked over her body on hands and knees. Then he entered her in one long, slow thrust.

“This is heaven,” he sighed, pushing himself along her core.

As he began the sensual dance of thrusts and retreats, she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I want all of you,” she begged, grasping his shoulders and pulling him in close.

He obliged, filling and stretching her body. The slow rhythm and friction drew her closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured in her ear, sending licks of heat through her body.

A couple more deep thrusts and she was almost there. He pulled back enough to latch onto her breast and the sensation of his wet tongue across her nipple pushed her over the edge. As her orgasm peaked, she felt Grant reach his own climax. He shuddered then collapsed onto her.

He rolled to his side, taking her with him so they faced each other. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, he breathed, “You never cease to amaze me.” Then he reached for the panties she’d tossed onto the grass, dangling them on his finger. “It’s not nearly as much fun, but would you let me dress you?”

She made an agreeable noise and rolled onto her back. His fingers trailed along her leg as he worked the lace back up to her hips. He reached for her jeans, easing them along the same path.

When they were both clothed, he drew her to his body, wrapping his thick arms around her. They lay dozing, their limbs tangled together. “I bet they don’t have secluded fields like this one in London.”

Abby’s heart clinched. “You’re probably right, but there are other good things about London. Not as nice as open fields, but important things.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “I jumped into adulthood at the deep end, getting pregnant at nineteen. Because of that, I had to make choices based on what was best for Jackson.”

Her gaze shot to Grant’s. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved being his mom and I’ve had a good life, but I missed that part where I could follow my own agenda. If I want to do something different, this is the time to do it. In a couple years Katie and Jackson will want to start a family and I’ll want to be there for that.”

In the midst of her explanation lay one unspoken question: What about the two of them?

He leaned up on one elbow, dark emotions playing across his handsome face. “You’re right, as usual.” His sensual lips slipped into a forced smile. “A front’s coming through. We need to get going.”

An hour later when Grant pulled into her driveway, having returned her safely just as he promised, she should have felt relief. Instead, tension stiffened her muscles. Reaching for her keys, she asked, “Did you want to come in? I have some leftover chicken casserole I could heat up.”

Hemming her in against her back door, he shook his head. “All I want right now is a hot shower and a comfortable bed.” His hooded eyes left her no doubt where he was hoping to get those things.

She unlocked her door and took a step inside. Her heart began thudding in her chest nearly as rapidly as when she’d first thrown her leg over Grant’s bike. “I know what you mean,” she said with a trembling smile plastered on her face. “I think I’ve got grass in my underwear.” Abby might have become brave enough to ride a motorcycle and make love in an open field, but could she take this step?

Her tiny bungalow symbolized more than home to her. Like a castle’s keep, it was her safe retreat, and she guarded the walls with more vigilance than any sentry. She never invited dates inside and had certainly never taken any lover into her bed.

Grant wasn’t
any
lover though. With every teasing word and gentle action, he chipped away at her defenses until he’d worked his way into her heart. “You could clean up here if you like,” she offered. “And then maybe afterward…”

His devilish grin made her glad she was turning into a risk taker. He backed her into the kitchen. After kicking the door closed, he worked the leather jacket he’d given her off her shoulders. Pausing only long enough to tug off their boots, they peeled each other’s clothes off on their way to her bath.

They reached the tiny room naked and breathless. “It’s not as luxurious as yours,” she explained, looking at the old-fashioned enameled tub. “I’m not even sure we’ll both fit.” She tried not to make the comparison, not only between their homes but the differences in their financial status as well.

“It’s perfect. Besides, I work well in confined spaces,” he drawled. His hand traced the curve of her back as he pulled her against his erection.

Desire burned through the remnants of her insecurity.
God,
he had a way of putting her at ease at the same time he kept her on the knife’s edge of need. The only thing that kept her from pulling him down to the tile floor was the promise of how good he’d feel beneath her soap slicked fingers.

Abby slipped from his embrace. “Let me get the water going,” she said. As she fumbled with the tub’s handles, he spooned his body against hers. Then while she turned the hot and cold first one way and then another, his wicked fingers mirrored her actions against her breast.

“Is it hot enough yet?” he asked as she checked the spray.

“Any hotter and you might get burned,” she responded, matching his innuendo with one of her own. Not only were his daredevil ways rubbing off on her, so was his sultry banter. Watching him from over her shoulder, Abby stepped under the water. His gaze raked over her in an appreciative stare. Feeling bolder than she ever thought possible, she arched her back in a way designed to drive him crazy. He rewarded her efforts with a groan that was quickly followed by the feel of his arms snaking around her body.

They both reached for the soap. “Me first,” she said, tugging it from his fist. After working the bar into lather, she soaped his shoulders, arms, and stomach. Then taking to her knees, she paid special attention to the lower half of his body. Abby would have taken him into her mouth again, but he tugged her up.

“My turn to play,” he told her taking the soap. Turning her around, he caressed the sore muscles of her back with the expertise of the best masseur. But when it came time to wash her front instead of facing her, he pulled her into him. His erection nudged its way between her cheeks to enter her from behind. All the while he scrupulously covered every square inch of her front. When he reached the apex of her thighs, his fingers dipped inside to tease the bundle of nerves at her cleft. In seconds she felt an orgasm bearing down on her and she came apart in a burst of light that would have had her sliding to the bottom of the tub were it not for the hold he had on her.

“All done,” he stated as he stepped in beside her under the spray.

Twisting in his embrace, she brought her lips to his ear. “Not even close,” she promised, though she still needed a minute to gather her wits.

After shutting off the water, Grant reached for a towel. He patted her dry, while she clung to his shoulders for support. When he’d wrapped another towel around his waist, he scooped her into his arms and stepped lithely from the tub. So replete from his ministrations, she barely registered the deft way he managed to pull back her satin comforter while still holding her in his arms.

Their bodies came together in a way that seemed as if it had been ages rather than minutes since they’d made love. She fisted the sheets to keep from sliding across the bed as he thrust inside her. She loved it. Couldn’t get enough of the way his body pressed her into the mattress. His sweet murmurings coupled with the sinful way he liked to nibble at her neck ignited an orgasm that had her crying out like a wanton woman. They were joined by his guttural moans as he climaxed.

Afterward, he collapsed momentarily onto her before rolling them so that they lay facing each other. He brushed her still wet hair from her face and studied her in a tender way that had her clenching her eyes. Too late, she realized inviting him into her bed was the least of her worries. He’d taken up residence in her heart in a way she’d never allowed another man.

Grant kissed her still closed eyes. “I should go before that front catches up with me,” he said, slipping from her bed.

She made a move to join him, but he stilled her with a hand to her shoulder. “Stay. On my way home, I want to think about you all cozy and warm like that.”

Had he asked, she would have gladly let him see her with tangled hair and puffy eyes in the morning. “Okay,” she said, knowing it was in her best interest not to get too used to having his big body filling her bed.

While he was still collecting the clothes they’d scattered throughout the house, a chill had already set in. Abby shivered, telling herself it was only the aftereffect of her wet hair. At the sound of her back door closing and the roar of his motorcycle that quickly followed, tears sprang to her eyes. She was in so much trouble! Angrily, she brushed them away. “Don’t be a ninny.”

Abby bolted from the bed and after grabbing a flannel nightgown from her dresser, stalked to the bathroom to dry her hair. Socks, hot chocolate, and another blanket added to the bed didn’t chase the chill from her. Finally, she resorted to sleeping on the couch.

Sleeping was the wrong word. She didn’t so much sleep, as close her eyes and imagine how good it would have felt if he’d stayed. While they’d returned home without so much as a scratch, it didn’t mean she didn’t wake the next morning feeling more than a little battered. She stretched, trying to work the kinks out of her sore arms and legs, but more than that her heart ached, reminding her that bravery had its costs.

Chapter 15

“I want you to meet Grace,” Grant announced, after a sultry greeting and a how-was-your-day.

Abby’s stomach did a flip. For some single parents “meeting the kids” signaled the relationship was getting serious, while others brought their significant others home to meet the kids early on. “No sense getting too involved, if he and the kids don’t mesh,” Abby heard many of them say.

“Sure that would be great,” she responded, wondering which category Grant fell into.