Hank leaned down to kiss Macie again. It was the only surefire way to get the woman to shut it all off for a little while. Macie kissed like she did everything else in life—energetically, enthusiastically, and without holding a damn thing back.
It was one of the first things that had drawn him to her. After Sharon’s death, he’d spent weeks walking around in a daze—going through the day without paying attention to anything. He got up, did his job, ate at the appropriate times, and went to bed. He’d become a living zombie.
Then, one night, while he was sitting at the end of the counter at Sparks Barbeque, shoveling in food he wasn’t even tasting, Macie walked over, told him an off-color joke—and he laughed.
The reaction had felt rusty as hell, but good. From that point on, he’d started eating at the restaurant more often, just to listen to Macie tell stories. It was the only time during the day when he felt awake, alive.
When he pulled back, he watched as Macie’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze finding him. She didn’t seem quite as confused as she had a moment ago. In fact, she almost looked as if she had accepted what he’d come to understand these past few weeks.
She was going to be his.
That decision didn’t come to him quickly or easily. He’d always figured Sharon was it for him. The only woman he’d ever love, ever want to spend forever with. That forever had been cut too fucking short, and for months he’d been pissed as hell, angry, resentful.
But eventually he figured out he had two choices. He could wallow in bitterness and die miserable and alone, cursing God for a cruel fate, or he could find a way to move on and seek some other happiness.
It was actually his foreman, Porter, who’d opened his eyes to his growing feelings for Macie. They’d been sitting at a barn dance, listening to Ty’s bluegrass band, and Hank had spent the entire night watching Macie dance with all the young bucks in the county. Apparently, his scowl had gotten darker with each passing song until Porter had told him to get his head out of his ass and ask Macie to dance.
He hadn’t bothered to respond or deny or pretend. Instead, he stood, crossed the room, took her hand to pull her up—even though she’d only just sat down—and tugged her out onto the floor. His cock had thickened the second he’d touched her and soaked up the sweet scent of apples in her hair. It had only been one dance, but it had proven to him that Macie was special.
Because for the first time since Sharon passed, he felt something he’d never expected to feel again. And it wasn’t the twinge in his pants. It was the twinge in his heart.
For the two months since, he’d sat at the end of that damn counter as she served drinks, combating his desire to drag her into the nearest storage closet and take her. Hard.
Tonight, he gave up the fight.
He took a couple steps away as her lust-filled gaze dulled a bit.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“Take off your shirt, Macie. And your bra.”
She sucked in a breath, hesitance written in her posture. He was going to test her limits. He knew precious little about her past affairs. Once he had decided to pursue her, he’d started digging, searching for details about her and her love life. There seemed to be no shortage of men who’d taken Macie out for a date. However, there was a distinct scarcity of guys who’d gotten a second. And when it came to her sex life, she appeared to be extremely discerning about who she took to her bed.
“Coop—”
He moved quickly, caging her against the wall. “Hank.” He shouldn’t push for so much, so fast, but once he’d turned the corner, once he had put his mourning away and decided to reenter the world of the living, he refused to picture any future that she wasn’t a part of.
“Hank,” she repeated.
“You’re going to be naked for the rest of the night, Whiskey. And that’s going to start now.”
“Rest of the night?”
Hank wrapped his arms around her tightly. “You still stressing over that lack of shower and shaving thing?”
She nodded. “Among other things.”
Hank loved how open and honest she was about what she was thinking and feeling. He never had to guess with Macie. For a man who’d spent twenty years with the same woman, he was grateful for that. He hadn’t been out there in a long damn time.
“What things?” Hank should have known she’d be ready with a list.
“In addition to the stubbly legs and lingering scent of bourbon, I now have garlic breath. The elastic is shot on my panties. I haven’t been naked in front of a guy in a longish time. I’m sort of pissed that you’ve taken sex off the table, but then I’m also relieved, so that’s annoying. I’m sorry I didn’t drink more wine at dinner because I’m a nervous wreck and I have this funny feeling that despite all that crap floating around in my head, you’re still going to have me naked soon because I can’t seem to say no to you.”
She paused as she tugged away to look at him, wincing. “Shit. Strike that last part. Shouldn’t have told you that.”
Hank listened without interruption. Why wouldn’t he? If he was patient enough, Macie usually managed to tell him everything he wanted to know without him having to ask a single thing. “Just the last part you’re worried about saying?”
She appeared to replay her comments in her head and then nodded. “Yeah. Just that part.”
“We’ll start slower then. Take off your shirt. You can leave the bra on…for now.”
Macie laughed—a full, rich sound that filled the room. “Gee. Thanks for making it so much easier for me.”
Hank knew a way to make it even simpler. He gripped the hem of her Sparks Barbeque T-shirt and tugged it over her head before she had a chance to stop him. He tossed it to the floor, letting his gaze drift downwards.
He was used to seeing her in her work shirts, but on the rare occasion when they ran into each other at social events, he was treated to peeks of her cleavage. Macie wasn’t shy about donning sexy blouses when she was out and about. Seeing her breasts now, showcased by her pretty pale blue bra, he’d be hard-pressed to keep his eyes above the neckline the rest of the night. She was beautifully built.
“I would give you the ‘take a picture, it lasts longer’ line, but knowing you, you’d probably take me up on the offer.”
He glanced up, enjoying her narrowed eyes. Her pink cheeks canceled out the sarcasm he saw there. She clearly hadn’t been kidding about being nervous, and in typical Macie style, she was trying to hide it with humor.
Hank tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. “You’re beautiful, Whiskey.”
“What about your shirt?”
He shook his head. “We’ll get there. First…” He reached around her back and, with quick fingers, unfastened her bra, dropping it to the floor with her shirt.
Macie’s hands flew up to cover herself. “Thought you said I could leave that on.”
Hank grasped her hands in his and tugged them away from her body. “I lied.”
Despite her nervousness, the woman had spirit. She didn’t look away as Hank gazed at her full, firm breasts. Unable to look without touching, he pressed her hands against the wall at her back. “Keep them right there.”
Then he reached out to cup her breasts, loving the way they filled his hands. He kneaded them gently at first before squeezing the generous flesh more firmly. Macie’s hands remained where he placed them as her eyes drifted shut and her breathing accelerated.
Hank bent forward, lifting one tit to his mouth as he sucked deeply on the nipple.
She gasped and her fingers found their way to his hair.
He started to admonish her, expecting her to push him away. Instead, her fingers tightened, gripping, holding him in place. He was long overdue for a haircut, but Sharon had always trimmed it for him. He hadn’t had the energy to find someone else to do the job so he’d tried to do it himself a couple of times. That had been a disaster and he’d basically just let it go for the past few months. Now he was glad he had. He liked the way Macie used it to hold onto him.
He teased the tight nib with his teeth and her head flew back against the wall. “God!” she cried. Her response encouraged him to suck harder.
He repeated the same process on the other nipple, and then he returned to the first. Hank figured he could suck on her pretty breasts all night and still never get enough. When he lifted his head, Macie’s eyes were closed.
“Look at me.”
Her eyelids blinked and it appeared to take her a few seconds to find her focus.
“I’m going to take your jeans off.”
She bit her lip and he grinned.
“You’re not still worried about your legs not being shaved, are you?”
Macie lifted her chin haughtily. “No.” God, she was the sexiest thing this side of the Mississippi. Fire and fun melded in such a way that it left a man longing to get burned. “At least, I wasn’t until you mentioned it. Why aren’t you losing any clothes?”
He gave her a quick kiss. “Because I like the idea of you prancing around here naked while I’m completely dressed.”
“Lord of the manor fantasy?”
“Something like that,” he confided.
“I don’t prance.”
Hank pinched her nipple, applying pressure slowly until Macie went up on her toes, squirming, wiggling. “You sure about that?”
Rather than chastise him for being a cocky bastard, Macie’s hands found their way to his shoulders. “I think I want to have sex with you. Right now.” Her confession was breathy, more whisper than sound.
“You think?”
She pressed her forehead against his chest. “I know I do. My body hurts, I want it so bad.”
As far as invitations went, Hank wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten a hotter one than that. But he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. Not tonight. If he planned to capture Macie’s heart and soul—and he did—he probably needed to take it slower and easier than what he was currently doing. Introduce her to what life with him would be like without spooking her.
He reached for the button on her jeans. Macie put up no resistance as he unfastened her pants and pulled them down. She shucked her flip-flops when the denim reached her ankles and kicked the jeans away.
Hank started to do the same with her panties, but the silky material had clearly seen better days. One quick jerk and he was able to snap the elastic. Macie gasped.
“I’ll buy you new panties.”
“That’s sort of a personal purchase. Not something you give a girl you’ve only gone on one date with.”
Hank ran his fingers along her slit, enjoying the way Macie white-knuckled his shirt, bunching up the material. “Figure if I make you come tonight, I’ve earned the right to spoil you a little.”
“I kind of think the orgasm would be the spoiling part.” Despite her words, Macie pressed her legs together. Obviously she was still hesitant about what they were doing. She said it had been a long time since she’d had sex. He wondered how long. And who the last had been.
“Open your legs, Whiskey.”
Her thighs parted slowly, allowing him better access. Any concerns he had about her willingness vanished when she groaned. She was so wet and so hot, he was surprised there wasn’t steam rising.
“When’s the last time you had a man between your legs?”
She frowned and he sensed she was distracted, trying to answer his question while he teased her clit with his thumb. “That’s another personal thing.”
“Answer anyway.”
“Um. I don’t know. Little more than a year or so.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her who she’d been with, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with jealousy. He didn’t want to know who her past lovers had been. From now on, he intended to be the man who controlled her orgasms.
He rubbed her clit more firmly as her hips thrust toward him. Hank answered the unspoken plea, shoving two fingers deep inside her pussy.
She cried out, her inner muscles clenching against him. He curled his fingers, taking some time to find her hot buttons. Macie was as transparent as a lover as she was a friend. She let him know when he did something she liked.
“Need more,” she gasped. “You. Please, Hank. I want you to fuck me. Right here. Right now.” Every word she spoke seemed as if it cost her a year’s worth of breath to utter. Hank was way too tempted to give her what she asked for.
But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. He added a third finger to her pussy, pumping them inside her harder, deeper.
Macie’s nails scored the skin on his shoulders, even through the cotton of his T-shirt. Her hips thrust toward him, seeking and grasping more stimulation, more strength. Hank didn’t hold back, didn’t keep himself in check. Gripping the back of her neck with his free hand, he pulled her lips to his, kissing her roughly as he fucked her with his fingers.
His tongue plunged deep into her mouth, Macie’s there to meet him. They drank each other in, and he captured every single one of her whimpers and moans with his lips. He felt her body stiffen as her climax approached. He didn’t let up, didn’t slow down when her back arched and she fought to turn her head.
Hank held her in place as she came, jerking roughly, crying out loudly into his mouth. Her fingers were back in his hair, and she was pulling it so hard, his scalp stung. Regardless, he didn’t seek to shove her off. He enjoyed the pain. It made him feel alive, like a bear coming out of hibernation.
He had shucked off the last of his grief earlier as he sat at Macie’s counter, wanting her with a need so great, he was surprised he’d managed to wait until her shift was over to push her toward his truck.
As her orgasm waned, he slowed the pulsing pace of his fingers inside her pussy and gentled the kiss.
When they parted, he found her eyes clear and focused on his face.
“I want more,” she demanded. She was tenacious, he’d give her that.
Hank shook his head. “No. I told you. I’m not fucking you tonight.”
“Why not?” Her tone was pure spoiled child.
“You need time to think about this. To decide if I’m what you want.”
“I can answer that right now, Hank. I want you. A lot. Very, very badly.”
Rather than respond, he stepped away from her. Macie was completely naked, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The kitchen had been chilly when they’d first arrived, but now it felt like a sauna.
His cock was rock hard and aching, but he ignored it. He’d take care of his own needs later—with his hand. It wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to, considering how tight and hot and tempting Macie’s pussy was, but he’d do it.
“You look pretty standing there.”
She seemed to recall her nudity, but—brave woman—didn’t attempt to cover up or hide. If anything, her back stiffened, thrusting her breasts out in a way that almost had him changing his mind about dragging her to his bedroom to have his way with her.
To strengthen his resolve, he imagined the future he longed for. Texting Macie to let her know he was coming in from the field and bidding her to strip. Walking in, hot and sweaty from a long day’s work, to find her naked and waiting for him with an ice-cold beer. He’d cuddle her on his lap, playing with her as they talked about their day. Then he’d take her—on the couch, in the shower, on the kitchen table, in his king-size bed.
Most times they’d be alone, but sometimes he’d invite Porter to join them.
He wondered how Macie would feel about him sharing her with his friend. It wasn’t something Hank planned to do often, but he couldn’t deny the pleasure he found in watching another man bring his woman to climax.
Porter had served as his foreman for nearly two decades. A few years earlier, before Sharon fell ill again, they’d taken her to bed together a handful of times. It had actually been Sharon who’d initiated the threesome, confiding to Hank once that she often fantasized about having a ménage.
For her birthday, he and Porter had planned to surprise her. Hank hadn’t been sure at first how he would feel about another man fucking his wife, and there was no question, Porter was the only man he trusted enough to share her with.
It had been Hank and Porter who’d gotten the surprise—both of them shocked by how much they’d loved it. Their original intention had been a one-night fling, but the three of them hadn’t been able to resist doing it again on occasion. Sharon had enjoyed it as well, but shortly after that, the disease reappeared. It took over, her body weak and the pain too great, so they’d eschewed sex altogether.
He wanted to try it again. With Macie. Given her uninhibited responses to his touches tonight, something told him she’d love the experience as much as he and Porter would.
“Are you thinking about Sharon?”
Macie’s question pulled him out of his reverie. Shit. He had been. Just not in a way he could make Macie understand.
His lack of response seemed to supply her with the answer.
She smiled compassionately. “It would be weird if you weren’t. I mean, you two were married a long time. I figure it’s been at least two decades since you’ve had sex with a woman who wasn’t Sharon, right?”
He nodded, stepping closer so he could engulf her in his embrace.
She wrapped her arms around him, her voice muffled as she spoke against his chest. “Like I said before, she and I are as different as night and day. I understand if you’ve realized…if you think you’ve made a mistake in…” She paused and he pulled away, unhappy with the direction her thoughts were taking. She’d misread everything.
Hank cupped her cheeks, forced her to hold his gaze. “Stop it. I’m not looking for a Sharon clone. I loved my wife, Macie. I always will. But people don’t go through life loving just one person. I was thinking about her, and I’m sorry about that. But I promise you, I wasn’t comparing and I wasn’t feeling guilty. If anything, I’m excited—for the first time in a damn long time—about what my future holds.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.”