No Perfect Princess (27 page)

“Let’s go,” I finally relented.

He kept turning back to check on me while tugging me through the crowd. About the fifth time he did, I openly girl-growled.

“What’s wrong? Are you going to faint?”

“No!” I snapped. “But if you don’t stop hauling me through this crowd like a naughty child about to be spanked—”

Take foot. Insert in mouth. Or, in this case, take libido and insert into brain. Since our gazes were already locked, I watched the same hotter-than-hot imagery sink into his mind, too. My bare ass, beneath his disciplining hand. My skin blooming for his touch. My body arched and ready to take his in…

Every hard, erect inch of it.

I looked down. Twisted my toe in the dusty earth. Looked back up to meet his burning gaze and flaring nostrils, making him look like some primeval beast on the trail of something tasty.

“Shit.” I held up my hands. “Rephrase time.”

“Too late. It’s in there.” He tapped on his temple.

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“Yeah.” His half-bark was gruff.

“Please, let’s just go. Only without the dirty caveman approach, okay?”

I called
that
a better rephrase? He obviously didn’t agree, either. His eyes widened before hunkering down in a glower. “I need a cold shower.” Clearly, he thought I wouldn’t hear the mumble. I didn’t tell him I did. When he reached back with his open hand, I took it in willing silence.

The ride back to the farm was quick—and quiet. Excellent, the two
Q
’s were present and accounted for. Problem was, we were nowhere near “the morning after”—and the sexual tension between us thickened with every mile we covered. It didn’t help that a couple of cats darted out of the road right after we swung onto the farm again—interrupted in the middle of their “afternoon delight”. Shit. The whole countryside was out to remind us that it was not only Independence Day, but a Wednesday.

Hump Day.

He’d barely cut the engine before turning, one hand still on the wheel, to demand, “You okay?”

I rolled my eyes, pushed open the door, and jumped down to the ground on my own. “Yes, Florence Nightingale, I’m fine. I was a good little girl, drank all the water you shoved at me. I had a moment, I’m over it, I feel better. This has just been a lot of,”—I waved my hand around—“ruggedness.”

“Guess that smart mouth of yours has recovered just fine.”

My
smart mouth? What the hell was up with
his
? Okay, so I’d gotten out of his big, bad truckie-wuckie all by myself instead of letting him help. That didn’t justify his accusatory tone. Unfair label? I didn’t think so. He usually liked my snark. Why the sensitive Air Supply synths now?

I dialed it all back a couple of notches, taking the bees-with-honey approach. “Well, I appreciate you bringing me back, nevertheless. Thank you.”

He huffed a little but stepped toward the house. “You’re welcome. Come on.”

I folded my arms and angled a playful grin. “Before I get my big farm tour?”

He stopped. Stared. “
Now
?”

“Now.”

Huge
method to my madness. We were literally the only humans on the grounds right now. If he and I were alone in the house, with no parental supervision…well, God only knew where the visions in our minds would take our bodies. And right now, I wasn’t sure my body could handle what my mind had conjured doing with him—during every minute of every hour of this day.

I jutted my lower lip and adopted my pouty anime gaze. “You promised me a tour, Pearson-
san
. This morning, yes? You remember?”

The corners of his mouth quirked. “
After
you rest a little.”

“I’m done resting. Come on, show me.” I skipped across the dirt, pointing at a bunch of big tractor-looking things. “What’s that?”

“Blast sprayer.”

“And that?

“Compost spreader.”

“And that?”

He snickered. “Tractor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I have a ride on it tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Yesssss.”

He rolled his eyes but my excitement swayed him to relent about the tour. Looping his arm around my neck, he guided me through the main buildings of the farm’s operational core, pointing out the harvesting sheds, cider mill, and butter/candle making shops, along with a couple of smaller buildings that handled the non-apple products: lemons, oranges, and even some exotic varieties of olives. By the time we were done, I was beyond impressed—and much to my dismay, even more smitten with him. The pride in his eyes and voice were unmistakable.

“This is a different side to you,” I finally said, stopping to rest a hand on his chest.

“Yeah?” He bussed my forehead on his way to gazing toward the orchards, contemplating the words. “And? Penny for your thoughts…”

“And…I like it.” A lot more than I should have. Which made this spot, right now, the damn crossroads of discomfort. But no way in hell was I leaving. The shelter of his arms, the timbre of his heartbeat, the closeness of this moment, felt too damn good.
Maybe just a few more memories.
“So what made you choose law instead of all this?”

His deep laugh rumbled through his chest, against my cheek. “You had the big town experience today. That was as exciting as it gets up here, sugar. Would
you
want to stay?”

“Well, you and I were raised very differently.”

“Yeah. We were.”

Shit. I’d hit a nerve. “Hey.” I pushed back a little, grabbing his gaze. “That’s not such a bad thing, Pearson. You pretty much know the shit storm that was my childhood.”

His gaze started to flash with fierce fire again. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Easy!” I retorted. “It means nothing but the obvious.”

“Which is?”

I stepped away. His mysterious anger was back in full force, and I didn’t feel like playing detective right now. “Just the fact that I’m a fish out of water here, right? It shows how—stunted I am. You deserve better than me, Michael. You really—”

Like a firestorm raging up the side of this damn mountain, he was back on me. The big barn’s outside wall became my new posture corrector, hard and rough, as he slammed me against it. His full frame sandwiched me from the front.

“Don’t talk about yourself that way. Ever. Again. Especially not while you’re with me. Are we clear?”

My breaths were a staccato mess, escaping any way they could. “Yeah. Yes,” I stammered. “Now back off!”

I didn’t believe it possible but he pressed in harder, his eyes still aflame…mesmerizing me now, like a sick pyromaniac. “I don’t think so,” he snarled—and then stole the rest of my breath, my senses, and all coherent thought with the most mind-bending kiss I’d ever experienced.

Before I could stop it, a moan broke free. Another. I scratched both hands up his chest and over his rippling shoulders, locking them around his neck—never wanting to let go.

So much for keeping the fucking distance.

Like I could think about caring.

“Don’t stop, Michael. Please don’t stop!” Oh, hell. I’d never sounded more needy or desperate with a lover—but never had I been on fire like this for a man.
Quench it
, my senses begged his.
Quench me. So thirsty. So hot.

So needing you. Now.

This was it. What we’d both fantasized and feared. Desired and dreaded. Craved, yet run from, both in our stupid ways. Why?
Why?
With this kiss, more raw and real than any other we’d ever shared, the truth blazed at me as sure as the gravity beneath our feet, the blue of the sky above. Every other attempt we’d made, so illogical and ill-fated, flashed through my mind like a movie short, a gorgeous but fleeting preview of the real thing.

This man.

This fire.

This need.

Of course.

“Fuck,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to mine. “Fuck, Margaux. I’m burning up.”

I laughed against his lips, then whispered, “Me too.
You’re
the fever, you know. It’s you. It always
has
been you.”

He pulled back far enough so I was consumed again by the full intensity of his gaze. “And it’s always been you—for me. You know that, right?”

I nodded but still scrutinized the darkest parts of his stare. I needed to see where he was with all this. Not that I couldn’t feel it already. His chest rose and fell against mine, breaths rapid and urgent and ferocious. His hands dug through the silk of my dress, keeping his erection fitted to my crotch with demanding force. He was power and sinew and passion, almost another man completely, though with all the best things still intact.

Now, he was going to be my lover.

God, yes. I wanted him. Needed him. Over me. Inside me…

All I needed was one nod. Just
one
affirmative nod from him and all bets—along with a hell of a lot of other things—would be off. I didn’t even care if we fucked standing here up against this barn. This mission was a blaring, green light
go,
the second he said the word.

“Margaux—”

“Don’t you dare say no to me, Pearson. I swear, if—”

“Not no sugar, just not here.” He stumbled back from me a couple of steps, a little hobbled from the huge ridge demanding exit from his cargo shorts, but regained his footing and tugged at my hand. “Come.”

I would’ve crawled over a bed of hot coals if he asked, but thankfully, he just towed me through the giant sliding wooden doors of the barn.

As we stepped inside, the sweet earthy smell of hay surrounded me. “Tell me there’s a bedroom in here.” I turned, lifting both eyebrows, to find him coming at me again, sin and lust and dirty promises agleam in his topaz eyes. “Nope. No bedroom. But if you’re good, I’ll let you stay standing while my cock’s inside you. How’s that?”

A laugh dropped out—while my pussy melted. “I’m not sure where Nice Michael goes when Filthy Michael comes out to play, but tell him to stay there awhile.”

He almost smiled—before the devil’s own wickedness coated his gorgeous features again. “On it.”

I had nothing for that. How could I, when he rolled out the big guns—literally. I watched, speechless and awed, as he whipped his T-shirt over his head, once more revealing the masculine perfection that haunted so many of my fantasies. God—those tattoos. Those bulges. Even the begging-to-be-licked trails of the veins along his muscles.
Wow
was getting cliché but damn, did it fit.

He taunted me even more by spreading his arms wide in order to slide the barn’s heavy bolt into place. My body was overheating again, but this time the warmth started between my legs and bloomed out, trembling my legs, filling my belly, crawling up my neck and making my vision cloud over. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, trying to gather myself for a moment.

Impossible.

It was just damned impossible to fight it. To fight
him,
and all these insane things he did to me. I’d always known things would be good with Michael if they got to this point, but this was good on steroids. Never had a man affected me like this…made me feel so utterly but deliciously powerless.

Me.
Powerless because of a man. Heady, even. And glad for every fucking minute of it.

Maybe those hard thumps through my whole body were echoes of the flying pigs hitting the side of the barn.

Or maybe it was the magic of Michael Pearson.

From the day I’d started noticing boys, Andrea had drilled another of her mantras into me:
Fun that
you
control, darling—never the other way around.
But with Michael, everything was different. I didn’t just like his leadership. I craved it. Was dizzy with the need for it. Whatever
something
Andrea had never received from a man…Michael had it. Into giant, Julian-sized barrels—my senses had just dived, head first. My equilibrium spun…and I liked it. My heartbeat careened…and I liked it. The need in my sex spiked to an all-time high…and I liked it. Would I ever get enough of him? Did I have the courage to even try?

Dammit.

More fear.

For a person more used to instilling the shit in other people, I’d taken a massive payback in the last month—though this version was one of the suckiest of all. It made me turn from him, wrapping arms around myself, once more struggling to pull my crap together.

But then once more feeling him press in…literally having my back.

I smelled him first, a mix of sunscreen and wind and pine, before shivering in all the best ways as he skated hands up my arms, over my shoulders then, in at my nape before gently pulling the tie from my braid and letting my hair fall loose. He hummed in appreciation as he ran his fingers through it, fanning the strands over my shoulders. My head fell to one side as his lips danced up my neck on the other, goose bumping my skin even in the heat of the summer day.
Incredible bliss…climbing need…

His lips slid up, grazing the shell of my ear. He used soft, tantalizing nips at first but ramped his aggression in response to my deep moans, biting then licking, kissing then sucking. Like a lion claiming his mate, he was a passionate force, now barely leashed. My breaths punched out, harsh and high, as I met his surges with long thrusts, rubbing against him in a pure animal show of need.

“Are you sure about this?”

I reached back to mold my hand around the erection pushing out from his cargo shorts.
Oh…my
. The ridge filled my hand and then some. My eyes grew heavy as my throat thickened, turning my voice into a sexy rasp. “I’m sure that I want you to fuck me. Give it to me until I can’t walk straight. Until I can’t remember my own name. Until I—”

His large hand suddenly clamped over my mouth. “You trying to make me come right now, wicked girl?”

Beneath his hand, I grinned. Couldn’t help it. Not only was his growl twelve kinds of a turn-on, but knowing he suffered now as I’d been for months…
oh, sweet victory, you taste so good
.

But payback, as they said, was a bitch.

He pulled back his hand, only to spin me around and replace it with his mouth. Much better than his hand, even if it did come with a crazy set of challenges—like the realization that I’d likely never be kissed this perfectly again in my life. Warm, delicious strokes of his tongue, wetting my bottom lip before he sunk his teeth in, stinging just enough before he reverted to licks once more…all before he plunged all the way in, tangling our mouths with deep, ever-demanding passion.