Jumped (14 page)

“Promise.”

“Next time you want to see me, you call, like a normal person.” This was just above a whisper.

“Okay.” He swallowed. This was fun. She could tell he didn't know what she was going to do next. She had him back on his heels.

“You want me?” she asked.

“Yes.” His voice was gruff.

“How bad?”

“Bad. But we can't—”

Beth slammed her lips against his and kissed the “can't” right out of him. She tossed her phone to the corner of the bed next to the built-in bookshelves. Now she could feel the stubble on his cheeks with both hands. He skimmed his hands up and down her sides.

He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. She interpreted it as encouragement, a nonverbal
Keep going!
She did, for minutes. Then kissed his neck and grazed his hot skin with the tip of her tongue. He moaned again, louder, so she did the same thing a few more times.

He raised his chin while moving her to an arm's length away. This time his lovely blue eyes were heated with longing. “I don't want to slug you with this thing,” he said, as he lifted his cast onto the bed.

Deftly, for she was an athlete, she slid next to him. He lay on his side. She was on her back and sent him her best smoldering sex-bunny-in thigh-high-boots look. “Take off your shirt.”

He obliged. Oh, she had missed this body! She had missed the crinkly hair on his chest and his hunky six-pack. It was still there, even though he wasn't working construction anymore. She propped herself up to trace its contours with her tongue and it quivered beneath her touch.

“God, Bethany,” he gasped.

Good. I want to make you crazy.

She pushed him onto his back. Her lips found one of his nipples. He had sensitive nipples, and she intended to determine whether or not they were still in good working order. From the way he arched his back and grabbed her head, pressing her mouth to him, she guessed all was exactly as she'd left it five years ago. The loud moan was a good indicator as well. As she flicked the tip of her tongue up and down, she decided she'd deal with the consequences of this—whatever
this
turned out to be. The way her hormones were staging their own Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in all of her pink parts,
this
was going to be
it
.

Beth lifted her head to look at Finn's face, careful not to bump his cast. Both of them were breathing harder now. Beth bit her lip, then slowly, slowly leaned in and kissed his lips, taking the lower one between her teeth. He moaned against her mouth. She ran her tongue along his upper lip, just grazing it. Then she retreated so she could see his face again. He was a happy boy. And she was about to make him happier. She smiled slowly and watched his eyes. She knew that look. It was his patented
I'm going to give you thirty orgasms in a row
look.

She adjusted her position and balance and slid her hands down the sides of his torso to his boxers. She removed them carefully, mindful of his cast.

He was naked. His body still begged to be sculpted in marble and put on a pedestal. The tip of her tongue caressed her upper lip as she sent him the hottest look she could muster. She positioned herself between his legs and took him into her mouth, reveling in the silky heat of him. Her eyes closed as she remembered exactly how he tasted. How she wanted to please him. How she wanted to do this for herself, to quell the ache in her own body. She did everything she remembered he liked. The speed, the rhythm, where he liked her to lick. It was effortless. It was filthy. It was so damn good.

Finn—who sounded like he might need a ventilator soon—closed his fingers around her shoulders and lifted. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “Oh, Bethany.” Beth rose and sat back on her heels. He slid his hands under the hem of her T-shirt, and she quickly maneuvered out of it. His fingers, which still held some impressive calluses, went right to her nipples. He wasn't wasting any time. He pinched and rubbed until she shuddered and her breathing became little gasps. He had always known how to devastate her. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and yanked. She jumped off the bed to finish the job, taking her panties off as well.

She was naked with Finn. She stood for a few seconds, looking at him, her ex-husband and his beefcake body. The scars on his hands and thigh. Her own body felt like it was vibrating and she was beyond aroused. She was wet and needy and they were about to do something they'd done hundreds of times before.

So why was she trembling?
He must've seen it, too, because as she climbed back into his bed and straddled him, he looked at her with his eyebrows slammed together.

“Honey, are you okay? You're shaking.”

“I know. I—”

She took him in her hand and guided him inside her, lowering herself in one movement. She closed her eyes. It was as though time had stood still and their time apart evaporated in an instant. She remembered exactly how this felt. He held on to her hips as she rode him in a relentless, rolling canter, their bodies reading each other, speeding up, slowing down, but always building, building, building.

He moaned and so did she. “Oh, Finn,” she whispered.

“Babe,” he said. “You're so perfect. You're so wet. Here.” He reached between her legs and massaged her with one finger, knowing this would send her over. Beth opened her eyes and gazed at him. She was lost, deliriously so, but she wanted to anchor her eyes to his. He increased the pressure with his finger. He stroked her faster. She matched his pace with her hips. The heat in her body was focusing to a laser point between her legs, right where her ex-husband was touching her. It was so intense, it bordered on painful, but she needed it. Oh, she craved it.

He said, “Come on, babe. Come for me.”

And sent her into the atmosphere.

She exploded around him, then he followed suit, groaning loudly. He was completely inside her as their bodies went ballistic, shaking and tightening in the primal dance they were built to perform. All thought was swept away in a tsunami of sensation. She felt drunk and airborne and free.

Long moments later, as she lay on top of him, Finn framed her face in his hands. He held her there and simply gazed at her with a look she couldn't define. There was tenderness in those darkened blue eyes, but another layer as well. This was the man who still loved her, she reminded herself. Her ex-husband who still loved her. Her ex-husband whom she had sort-of kind-of just seduced. What was she getting herself into?

She decided to pull a Scarlett O'Hara and not think about that now.
Why ruin a perfectly wonderful postcoital moment with pesky consequences?

He caressed her cheekbones with his thumbs. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. She closed her eyes and focused on his hypnotic, feathery touch. When she opened her eyes, he was still gazing at her as though her face was a blueprint for a building he would build himself. He was still inside her. They were connected in this most intimate way. She circled his wrists with her hands, but he still didn't move them. Her heart was flooded with a warm, white light.

She licked her lips. Finn was obviously stunned. Was this too much exertion? Had the doctor said anything about sex? The doctor couldn't have known what Finn was like in the sack.

She sat up, straddling him. “Does your leg hurt?”

He rested his hands on top of her thighs. “Not at all.” He shook his head dreamily. “Do yours?”

She laughed. “Not my legs. Although I might have trouble walking.”

Now he laughed.

“Do you need anything?”

“More.” He touched her sternum between her breasts with his index finger. “You.”

Oh my, Finn.

She smiled. He let his fingers dance over her breasts, teasing and tracing their curves. Her nipples puckered and she shivered.

“I'd love to,” she said, “But you need your sleep. You're recovering from a major trauma. This might not have been the best idea. Healthwise, I mean. You know?”

She switched to her get-the-students-to-the-show-on-time voice. “Time to hit the hay.” She disembarked from him and the bed as though dismounting a horse.

He caught her hand before she stepped away from the bed and raised it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with his lips. Then he patted the space on the bed next to him, inviting her. “There's room here. Me and my plaster friend would love to have you.”

“If that's your idea of a three-way, count me out.”

He laughed. “Come on, Bethany. You need your rest, too. And I'd sleep better if you were here.”

“Oh no you don't. I'd be terrified I'd bump you in my sleep. I'll be up at the house.” She bit the skin on the inside of her lip. Then she sighed, pressed her lips to his forehead, and kissed him.

“Good night. Sleep now.”

“No,” he murmured. “Here.” With a fingertip, he guided her lips to his and kissed her, soft as a moonbeam.

Beth needed to get out of there soon or she'd take him up on his invitation. She used the bathroom, turned off the light, and collected Mingo.

Once she was at the door, Finn said, “Good night, Bethany. Sweet dreams.”

“ 'Night. See you tomorrow.”

“I can't wait.”

She didn't answer. Walking up the drive, she realized she hadn't used any protection. She hadn't even thought about it.
Crap
. But she should be okay. Again, she couldn't think about that now. She wouldn't think about any of this now.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

Finn lay in the
inky dark of the mountain home. His body was fatigued from sex. Spectacular sex. Spectacular Bethany sex. He wished he'd been able to move more easily, but even with his body operating at 60 percent capacity, it had been amazing, thanks to the woman he loved. He was drifting, unsure if he was awake or asleep. But he was sure he wanted her in his bed again. He didn't love having a broken leg, but if he hadn't, Bethany wouldn't have made love with him. Right now, it was worth every bit of the pain and inconvenience.

The next morning Finn woke at nine—late for him—thinking
Percocet
. For the first time since the accident he'd slept through the night—better sleeping through sex!—and was overdue for his pain-extinguishing pharmaceutical. He hoisted himself out of bed and groaned at the startling pain in his leg.

He took the Percocet, brushed his teeth, and ruminated the whole time.

Bethany.

He wanted Bethany. He wanted an encore of last night. He wanted to do better by her. He'd been so shocked when she'd leapt into his bed, he hadn't been a very good lover. He wanted to show her what he could do for her, bum leg and all. Mostly, though, he wanted to be with her and listen to her. He liked how she could make him forget about his leg. Maybe later today . . .

In the meantime, he could work. He'd been so out of it earlier in the week, he hadn't been able to concentrate, not to mention he became nauseated if he looked at his laptop for more than ten minutes. It was what, Friday? Yeah, he needed to start catching up before he fell hopelessly behind, especially on the Mitchell Frederick project. It could literally take his business to the next level.

He might not know what to do about his personal life. He might not know if he wanted to marry Bethany again, although the more he was around her, the more the idea appealed to him.

“Was that on purpose?”
Amanda asked, tongue firmly in cheek, as Beth cantered Brooke away from a four-foot vertical jump they had cleared. Barely. Beth had let Brooke come in too close to the fence and then the generous, talented mare executed a decidedly ungraceful hop to get over it.

Beth laughed. “Um, no. My bad.”

“You made her look like an antelope! You do realize that was a gift? She sure must love you,” Amanda said. “Another horse would have slammed on the brakes.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let me try it again.”