Trouble Maker: A MacKenzie Family Novel (The MacKenzie Family) (17 page)

“I was never important enough to Clive for him to think I’d be worth chasing after. I promise he probably hasn’t given me a thought since I walked out the door. He’s got business all over the world. I’m sure he already has someone filling my place.”

He shook his head at her naïveté. At her lack of self-worth. “Marnie, you’re an amazing woman. You’re smart and talented and you have a wit that can cut you off at the knees before you realize you’re laughing. You’re strong and stubborn and you’re right where you’re supposed to be. You just took a little detour on the way.”

“I know that,” she said. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be. I know that I’m brave and strong and that there’s more to me than people see. I’m not just poor white trash from Nowhere, Montana. I came from that, though. That’ll never change.”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“It shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter as much as it used to. No one in all the other places I’ve lived knew where I came from. I was just me. And still they looked at me like I was a freak of nature.”

“They don’t understand you. Most people don’t understand when they see greatness. They’re too small minded.”

“I don’t care about other people just now. I’m more interested in something else.”

He recognized the change in her. She was done talking about herself. About the past. The look in her eyes was unmistakable, and he was starting to wonder if maybe they were taking things too fast. Yes, it had been fifteen years. But she’d been back in Surrender less than two months. Neither of them were teenagers anymore, but there was so much more at stake now.

She took a step back and then grabbed the bottom of her sweater with both hands and pulled it over her head.

He’d guessed wrong. The bra she wore was lacy and the dark blue of a midnight sky. Her breasts weren’t on the large side, but they swelled over the lacy cups and were high and round. She’d always been thin with delicate bones—fragile. Until you got to know her and realized the core of her was solid steel.

She leaned over to untie her boots and toed them off, all the while keeping her gaze on his, almost defiantly. All he could do was watch, mesmerized by her movements. When her fingers went to the button of her pants he finally got his wits about his and shook himself out of the stupor.

“Stop,” he said and she froze where she stood. Embarrassment pinkened her cheeks and she looked down at the ground, her hands dropping to her side.

Beckett went to her then and lifted her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. “I’ve dreamed of taking your clothes off for fifteen years. Don’t take that pleasure away from me.” And then he kissed her before she could argue with him.

It was like the first time. But different. Her lips held the same shape and her taste was the same, but this wasn’t a kiss of innocence as it had once been. Those days were long gone. This was a kiss of longing and passion—years of built-up need.

She wanted him. The way she trembled in his arms wasn’t from fear, but excitement. Or maybe he was the one that trembled.

“Beckett,” she whispered. “Please take me to bed. Or here. Anywhere. I can’t wait.”

“The bed,” he said, kissing her throat. “It has to be the bed this time.”

His muscles strained as he told himself to go slow when the urge was to throw her over his shoulder and race up the stairs to his room. His heart pounded in his chest and her kisses became impatient—ravenous. She tugged at his sweater and pulled it over his head. He didn’t see where it landed. Didn’t care.

All he knew was that his mouth belonged fused to hers. Her fingers spread across his chest and her hands moved around to his back, pulling him closer. He began moving her backward toward the stairs, toeing off his shoes while his fingers found the clasp of her bra. She let it slide down her arms and drop to the ground, and then they were skin to skin and he thought nothing had ever felt as good.

“I can’t make it any farther,” she said. “Please.” Her fingers tugged at the button on his jeans and he breathed a sigh of relief when she got them undone and was pushing them down his hips. His cock was so hard it hurt and all he wanted was to be inside her. He’d waited this long. He could wait the few minutes it took to get upstairs to the bedroom.

To speed things along he shucked his jeans where he stood so he was completely naked, and then he hitched her up so her legs wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Touching her. He made it halfway up the stairs before he had to stop and taste the sweet buds of her nipples. Her back arched over the banister and he took a pink bud in his mouth, suckling gently until she writhed in his arms.

Her hips moved against him and he could feel the heat of her pussy through her jeans against his cock. He rocked against her as he suckled, and then he switched sides and paid attention to the other breast. Her fingers speared into his hair and pressed him tighter against her, and her mewls of pleasure grew louder.

He let go of the nipple with a wet
pop
and then grabbed hold of her, carrying her to the landing. He let her go so her feet touched the floor and his fingers went to the snap of her jeans. She helped him push them down and he briefly saw the matching navy panties that barely covered her before he pushed those down too.

“Hurry,” she whispered as he backed her toward the door of his bedroom. “Hurry, hurry.”

“No,” he managed to get out. “I want to see you. All of you. We’ve waited too long to hurry now.”

She growled in frustration and his shoulder hit the doorframe as they circled into the room. Her teeth nipped into his shoulder and her leg hooked around his hip, searching for him. She was wet. God, she was wet. He could feel her desire. Her need. But he didn’t give in and plunge into her as he wanted. Instead he picked her up and made it the rest of the way into the room, dumping her on the bed unceremoniously.

She laughed as he came down on top of her. And then the laugh turned into a moan as he kissed his way down her body, savoring the taste of her. He could smell the light scent of lemons from the soap she used. And the musk of her desire as he settled between her thighs.

Her hands grasped the covers and her breath came in short pants. Her folds were slick and creamy and her clit was swollen with need, and when his mouth latched onto the taut bud her hips arched and she let out a long, low moan of pleasure.

“What?—” Marnie gasped. “What are you doing?”

She’d never been more mortified in her life. She wasn’t experienced when it came to sex. Clive had never done any more than he’d had to when they’d been intimate, and she’d always thought of sex as more of a “man’s sport.” She’d had no idea that something like this was even possible.

“I’m making you come,” he said. His hands held her ass up and he fed on her like a starving man at a banquet. He suckled and licked, and then his tongue did something indescribable and rockets exploded behind her eyelids. She didn’t realize she’d screamed out her orgasm. She only knew she’d never felt anything like what she’d just experienced.

The only orgasms she’d ever had were ones she’d given herself or the spontaneous ones she experienced during an erotic dream. She’d never been able to come with Clive, but she’d always read that was normal with a lot of women, so she hadn’t thought much of it. Once they were finished with sex she either went to sleep or went into the bathroom and finished the job herself. He’d never noticed. She’d never known what she’d been missing.

“Can you do that again?” she panted.

“Many times.” The room was dark and she heard him rummage around in the bedside table and then curse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Condom. They’re in there somewhere.”

She stopped him with her hand and wrapped a long leg around his hip. “I’m on the pill. Please, I want to feel all of you.”

“Jesus, Marnie,” he said, his breath seeming to explode from him. “I won’t last ten seconds with nothing but skin between us.”

“I’ve got faith in you. Nothing between us, Beckett. Please.”

She felt him shift in the dark as he settled himself between her thighs. His chest hair rasped against her nipples and he kissed her again, this time softer—gentler. His tongue slid against hers and she tasted herself—sweet and salty at the same time. Then she felt his hand between them as he guided himself to her opening.

And then she felt the fullness of him as he pressed against her. He was big and her breath caught as he stretched her like she’d never been stretched before. He took his time and let her adjust, continuing to kiss her as he kept a steady pressure while entering her.

Her nails bit into his back and her legs wrapped around his waist. It seemed to take an eternity before she felt him fully pressed against her. She was breathless. And then he grasped her hands in his and began to move. Her hips matched his thrusts and she felt the build inside her once again. Her dreams weren’t comparable to the real thing. How could they be?

“Come on, baby. Come for me again,” he whispered against her cheek.

Almost as if she’d needed the prompt, she felt herself fall over the edge. It was different this time. With his mouth it had been an explosion of light and sound—the flash and bang of intense pleasure. This time it was a symphony of color, a slow roll of pleasure that consumed her from the inside out. She clenched around him and heard him moan against her neck as her muscles tightened and spasmed.

Sweat covered their bodies but he continued to move—faster and faster—so her orgasm rolled from one to the next—a continuous pleasure that had her gasping for breath. And then she felt him stiffen above her and the long, low groan as he spurted inside her.

She didn’t know how long they lay there, holding each other. Maybe they dozed. She wasn’t sure. But when she felt him stir against her the sweat on her skin had cooled and she shivered. He was still inside her, soft now, but the connection was still there.

He kissed her and her hands traced the muscles of his back. She could touch him all day, so spectacular was his body. Then she noticed he wasn’t so soft inside her anymore and chuckled.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, repeating her earlier question.

“I told you,” he said. “Many times.”

Chapter Fifteen

As Thanksgiving and Christmas passed, Marnie found that she and Beckett slipped into an easy routine. She’d been surprised by how comfortable she was with him. That she didn’t mind when he stayed over and left some of his things lying around. And that she felt as at home at Hamilton House as she did at her own. She didn’t feel like a second-class citizen or an imposter. She was Marnie Whitlock and she could be or do whatever she damned well pleased. It was an exhilarating discovery.

And it hardly bothered her at all that her visions had all but stopped. She could still read people if she wanted, or she’d get the occasional unwarranted glimpse into someone’s future. But there were no more visions that took hold of her by the throat and showed her what was coming in her life or the direction she needed to go. She hoped that meant that everything was exactly as it should be.

Cooper had mentioned to both Hazel and Denny Trout that it was in their best interest to leave her and Beckett alone. The MacKenzies owned the little house Hazel and her mother lived in, and they also owned the place Denny rented since the Caldwells had always been too cheap to provide a house for their foreman. It had only taken a mention that if anything else happened, they’d both find themselves looking for another place to live.

Beckett had been true to his word. He had been able to do it many times. Many,
many
times. And when Darcy had come home for Christmas and they’d reunited, the first thing out of Darcy’s mouth was, “Well, damn. The sex must be amazing. That smile won’t leave your face.”

Marnie had just arched a brow, but she hadn’t disagreed with her friend. The sex was, in fact, amazing. She was insatiable. She’d told Beckett she had a lot of years to catch up on, so she hoped he was prepared. He seemed not to mind too much, though they’d had to get creative between her busy client schedule and calving season.

The MacKenzies had hired her to do a full shoot of their family. They wanted an intimate picture book to hand down to the next generations, including some of the old photographs of when the ranch had first been built, up to present day. It was a massive project, and Marnie was working on it in her spare time between weddings and other jobs.

She’d been driving at the MacKenzie Ranch one afternoon, and on a whim, she’d veered left and headed toward Hamilton land. She didn’t know what had made her do it. But thoughts of him consumed her, especially since he’d left her sated and satisfied only that morning.

Luck had been on her side. She saw him from a distance nailing part of a fence back up, his horse tethered close by. She stopped and took a couple of pictures, loving the intensity on his face, the way his hands so skillfully used the hammer.

Snow still covered the ground, but he didn’t seem bothered by the cold. She pulled the van up beside him and his horse snorted and took a few steps to the side.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said as she hopped out of the van.

And just like that they were on each other. She didn’t remember climbing into the back of the van or how he only got one leg of her jeans pulled off before he was inside her. It was a fast and furious coupling that only lasted minutes, but it was enough for the moment.

There’d been other times as well. When he’d stop into town for lunch or to pick up some supplies, he’d always swing by the studio to say hello. And if she wasn’t busy they’d often find themselves in her little office with her sprawled across the desk, or in the tiny bathroom as he fucked her from behind and they stared at each other in the mirror. He treated her like a woman. And she loved it.

“What do you want, Marnie?” he asked. She’d sent her receptionist out for lunch.

She’d walked to the front door of the studio and locked it, but people could still see in if they looked through the glass. And then she’d pushed him to the floor behind the big desk and undone the snap to his jeans, pushing them down just past his hips. She’d left on his shirt.