What Might Have Been (9 page)

Shifting his hold on her thighs, he slid a single finger beneath the edge of her nylon running shorts and thrilled at her muffled intake of breath.

“Very bad.”

He pushed into the house, the old front door banging against the wall with a protesting creak at their abrupt entry.

“Shh,” she hissed into his ear. “You'll wake Gran.”

Oh, wouldn't that have been a sight. He was naked as the day he was born, his skin still damp and sticky from the water that hadn't quite dried yet. Ainsley's feet were streaked with mud, her breasts swinging free. And he was clomping them both through the house like a herd of buffalo.

“She sleeps like the dead.” He would know. He'd used that fact to his advantage many times in his misspent youth.

“Not funny, Luke.”

No, probably not. He strode up the stairs with her, skipping the noisy fourth stair just to avoid another pro test from her and made it to the hallway without so much as a sound coming from his grandmother's room at the head of the stairs.

He didn't stop to ask; he simply strode into his own room and laid her gently across the bed.

The covers were rumpled beneath her where he'd tossed and turned in the night. Pale white cotton sheets only emphasized the luster of her skin. She rarely wore makeup. She didn't have to. Her skin seemed to glow from within, creamy and bronzed by the sun.

She stretched out before him, and he was almost over whelmed with the realization that he was about to touch her again. For the past eight years, memories, dreams and sometimes nightmares had haunted him—the need for her had been so strong. Over those years no other woman had ever come close to what he'd had—what he wanted again—with Ainsley. He'd second-guessed his decisions, wondered whether the sacrifice he'd made was worth what he'd gained.

In his heart he'd always thought the answer was no. But it hadn't done him any good to acknowledge his mistake, not when she couldn't be his anyway.

But now, tonight, she was his. Completely and totally.
No past. No twin brother to come between them. Nothing but the here and now.

A flash of uncertainty crossed her face, making him realize he'd been staring too long.

But she was so beautiful. He just couldn't seem to find the words to tell her.

She jolted sideways, fumbling in the covers to try and find a shield against him. He couldn't have that. Sinking down beside her, he reached for the knotted sheet and pulled it out of her grasp before she could do anything with it.

He leaned in; she retreated back, propped high on her elbows in the center of his bed. He followed.

The chill of her skin registered. It should have been a balm to the sizzling heat, but it just made the burn worse.

He reached for her, running the backs of his fingers down her side, over the curve of her breast and down her ribs.

She shivered and goose bumps flowed across her skin. He moved closer, following the trail with the edge of his lips, not quite touching, barely breathing. “Beautiful.”

A strangled sound buzzed in the back of her throat, a cross between a protest and the expression of her own need.

“Yes. You're beautiful. You always have been and you always will be. Gorgeous. Simple. Perfect.”

She looked into his eyes, her face so close to his own now that all he could see were the round, blue pools.
And the belief that they held. The belief that he spoke the truth.

He watched them melt, darken, deepen and begin to glitter. The corners tipped up, changing the expression on her face from wide-eyed wonder to one of understanding, power and expectation.

She wanted this. She wanted him. And he was going to delight in fulfilling her every desire….

H
OW COULD SHE STILL BE
on fire? How could she still want this man? Not just after already having been sated but after all that they'd been through, everything he'd done…and not done.

But she did want him. And Ainsley knew to the depths of her soul that the emotions bubbling up inside her weren't going to go away. As long as he was here, next to her, walking the same ground and sleeping under the same roof, the buzz in her blood would only get stronger.

He reached for her and she let him.

It would be easy, in the bright light of day, to convince herself that he'd seduced her. That he'd played on old fantasies and the embers of the desire they once shared.

But she wouldn't.

At this moment, she was precisely where she wanted to be. In Luke's arms.

And the chances of that ever happening again were
slim to none. If life had taught her anything, it was to seize the moment.

But what she really wanted to seize was him.

There was nothing wrong with knowing that and weighing it against the potential for pain later. She'd made a decision and there was no going back. There would be no regrets.

Part of her, the innately honest and nurturing part, almost spoke to make sure that Luke understood what this encounter was, a fleeting chance at pleasure for them both.

And then she remembered who was about to share her bed. Luke had no designs on anything with her beyond this night.

Somehow the realization that there was no future relationship to worry about set her free. She could be as uninhibited and daring as she wanted.

And suddenly, she wanted to be very daring.

Laying her palm flat against his naked chest, Ainsley pushed back against Luke, holding him at arm's length. The molten heat in his eyes quickly cooled to concern and confusion. The tiny imp inside her—the one she rarely let out—gleefully enjoyed Luke's discomfort.

She'd set him off balance and that was a rare occurrence with Luke Collier.

Applying pressure to his shoulders and invading his space, she urged him down to the bed as she rose up and over him. His body folded beneath her, like a collapsible box. They moved together in harmony as if the change in position had been choreographed.

She straddled his body as he looked up at her; for once he was the vulnerable one. She could do anything she wanted. Or so she told herself. She could walk away. She could torture him until they both whimpered. She could indulge in every fantasy she'd ever had in those dark and lonely nights without him.

But she wouldn't do any of those things. Not now. Now she simply wanted to indulge—herself and him. She longed to feel him, explore his body as he'd explored hers in the orchard. She wanted to know him again as intimately as she had before.

Running her hands down the length of his torso, she relished the way he arched into her touch. The way his eyes glittered as he silently watched her luxuriate in his masculinity.

The sprinkling of hair across his chest tickled the palms of her hands. The sensation was its own caress—one she never would have counted as sensual, yet somehow it was.

She leaned down to rain tiny kisses across his skin. The ticklish sides of his ribs, the sensitive discs of his puckered nipples, the flat plane of his belly. Every place she touched he instantly responded to her with jumping muscles, guttural groans and the eager jerk of his insistent erection.

She dropped her mouth lower, running just the tip of her tongue down the length of his sex. It wasn't enough—for him or for her. But judging by his sharp intake of breath and the heat of her own spreading arousal, they both enjoyed the torment.

She scooted back on her knees to give herself unfettered access to what she wanted to play with most. She let the side of her tongue rub slowly up the length of his cock again, looking into his eyes just as she reached the sensitive head. His fingers fisted the sheets beside his body, rumpling them into a tight ball and popping the elastic away from the bed.

That small sound seemed to galvanize her. It was proof of the short leash he had on his control. She wanted to feel and hear that leash snap just for her.

Bending down, she took him into her mouth. Sucking him deep, she worked hard on his sex as she let him slip back out. She used her fingers and tongue, lips and teeth to tantalize and destroy them both.

When he finally reached for her, his fingers digging just as roughly into her skin as they had into the bed, he had her flat on her back and beneath him in seconds. The room whirled around her with the speed of her transition.

He crushed his body to hers, bringing them skin-to-skin and wrenching a moan from her throat. She realized this was the first time she'd fully touched him. Up until this point they'd been playing, tormenting each other. Now he was wholly against her and she wanted more. All of him.

“Condom.” She panted the word on a labored breath.

“Drawer.” His level of speech seemed to match hers. Somewhere in the back of her mind she found that gratifying. To know that she could affect him just as much as he affected her. That they could do this to each other.

His hand worked between them, forcing air where there hadn't been any. He found her sex, wet, swollen and ready for him. He slipped a single finger inside and she arched against him, her muscles pulsing around his invasion.

Ainsley blindly reached to the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom from the package stashed there.

Her movements were jerky, her brain half-possessed with the pleasure he was drawing from her. But she wanted him so she was on a mission.

Ripping into the package, she reached for him, letting her fingers slide along the length of him as she rolled the condom down.

He was right there, at her entrance, ready to put her out of her misery. She was open to him, legs splayed, muscles straining, hips gyrating. And yet they both waited, prolonging the moment and drawing out the pleasure. As if they both feared this was their only chance.

Finally, she'd had enough. Flinging his hand away from her, she guided him to her center and waited for him to slide home.

He didn't disappoint. But then, he never had. He thrust inside her. It took her a moment to stretch and accommodate him but once she did…

Her mind blurred, her body focusing on the single point where they connected. It was perfect; they were perfect together. He slid out again, drawing a whimper from her when she lost the sensation of him deep inside. She wanted him back again. She wanted him with her.

Ainsley wrapped her legs high around his hips, pushing her heels into his body and driving him back to her. Her hips thrust upward and the internal muscles of her sex clenched him, pulling even more pleasure from the friction of their play.

He whispered nonsense words into the cloud of her hair but the urgency and desperation in them were clear to her. Their echo deep inside her.

His hands brushed from her sides, down her arms, seeking something he couldn't seem to find. Until his searching fingers twined with her own, bringing her hands up over her head.

The strength of his hold and the position of her body forced her tighter against him, bringing them closer together than she'd ever thought possible. His mouth found hers in the rush of pleasure and abandon, another connection between them.

His hold on her hands tightened, an unvoiced urging she wanted so much to obey and ignore all at once. The muscles of her sex began to quiver with the beginning throb of her release anyway. She tried to hold it off, tried to steal one more moment. But as his tongue and cock thrust deep into her body in unison, she lost all control.

The pleasure of him inside her again was just too much.

She bucked against him, pulsing and pulling as her body exploded, milking every last second of bliss she could get. If this was it, she wanted it all, whatever he'd give her. Whatever she could take.

Aftershocks were still racking her when a guttural
groan of satisfaction burst from Luke's lips. He ground into the open cradle of her thighs as his hips pumped into her with masculine abandon.

Her eyes threatened to flutter shut as the force of his release had her spasming on an echo of what he'd already given her.

Neither of them said anything as he rolled off, tucking her tight into the curve of his body and bringing the covers up over them both. There were no words, nothing left to say. Not in this moment.

Right now it was enough that his arms were tight across her stomach, holding her close to his warmth. Right now it was enough that they were together.

She was too exhausted to do anything anyway. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the consequences of their actions.

 

S
HE WOKE UP
. A
LONE
. In Luke's bed.

The sensation was…unsettling. If he'd been beside her it might have been worse.

At least this way she could deal with the aftermath of her rash decisions alone.

Did she regret it? Not yet, but maybe eventually. For now, her body was too sated for regrets.

Stretching her arms over her head, Ainsley arched her back and relished the twinge of her stiff and sore muscles. She couldn't resist a contented smile.

She hadn't felt this good in…ever.

“Well, if that isn't a cat-eating-the-canary grin I don't know what is.” His words were a lazy drawl that startled
the hell out of her. She jackknifed in the bed, reflexively grabbing for the covers to make sure she was decent.

The warmth of his chuckle oozed down her spine. “I think it's a little late for modesty.”

He was braced in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one wide shoulder holding him up. A worn pair of denims rode low on his hips, threatening to slip off.

Her mouth went dry and her tongue swelled to about five times its normal size. At least it felt that way. She hadn't been tongue-tied and helpless since she was eight. But the sight of him, rumpled and sexy, about did her in.

Her heart raced, a combination of nerves and a desire to revisit what they'd shared last night. She had no idea what to say to him. The heat of a blush began to creep up her skin; she could feel the sting of it and wanted to smack herself.

Pushing away from the door frame, Luke walked toward her. “It's late. Gran's been up for a while but I thought you might need the sleep.” A smile touched the edges of his lips briefly. It fascinated her, that smile that wasn't quite there. It was something she'd never seen him do before. In the past he'd been larger than life. He'd never censored anything, his thoughts, his emotions, his desires, his laughter. Everything with him had always been on the surface for everyone to see.

She was beginning to realize that wasn't the case anymore.

“We need to leave for the service in an hour or so.”

His words brought a cloud over her thoughts. She'd
been so wrapped up in the experience of last night that she'd forgotten what today brought with it—for him and for her.

His eyes dulled for a second before he reached for her and kissed her. She had almost no warning that it was coming. The kiss held the quiet power of connection, the leashed control of unfulfilled desire and the promise of more…later.

Luke let her go. Pulling back, he stood up from the bed and stared down at her, blinked and then was gone.

She sat there, slightly shaken and unsure of exactly what had just happened as she listened to his footsteps retreat down the worn stairs. She was so confused. By herself—her own desires and hopes and complicated dreams. By him—what he thought this was, what he thought he wanted.

Shaking her head, Ainsley realized now was not the time to contemplate all of this. In a little while she'd be playing hostess to half the county as everyone paid their last respects to Pops.

Right now, that's what she needed to worry about. She could figure out the rest later.

Leaping from the bed, she saw a neat pile of her clothes sitting on the chair in the corner. Shorts, a T-shirt, bra and panties. Definitely not what she'd been wearing last night.

Another blush suffused her skin at the thought of Luke rummaging through her drawers. She didn't ever really think about her wardrobe. Not much reason to when she spent so much time outdoors getting dirty, sticky and
sweaty. But for once she was embarrassed. What had he seen? What had he thought?

However, that embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by another.

What had happened to her clothes from last night? His?

She could just imagine one of the seasonal workers coming across her ripped T-shirt beneath the peach trees. Or worse finding Luke's shorts and shirt in a pile by the pond.

What would they think?

It took Ainsley less than a minute to decide it didn't matter. She wasn't ashamed of anything she'd done last night.

Given the chance, she'd do it all again.

It remained to be seen whether she'd get that chance.

 

T
HE CEREMONY WAS A BLUR
. A whirlwind of people, stories, memories and tears. The oppressive heat and the advanced age of most of Pops's friends meant the contingency that followed the hearse up the seldom-used gravel path to the family grave site was smaller. Most people had elected to stay inside the air-conditioned chapel at the church.

Ainsley sat beside Luke in the limo the funeral home had provided for the family. Gran sat on the opposite seat, across from them both. She looked tired and forlorn and he wished there was something he could do to help. But there wasn't. Nothing he could say or do would bring back the man she'd loved for most of her life. She might
have had a chance to prepare for the separation but it was clear that she felt his loss down to her soul. He'd never seen her so pale and…motionless. In all his memories she'd been a firecracker of a woman, able to bend every one of the men in her life to her will, either with honey or with vinegar—whichever the situation required.