Chapter Sixteen
Whether it was her words or the pleading look in her eyes that brought him back inside, Mick wasn’t sure, but he’d passed the threshold and closed the door before he had time to process any of it.
He reached her in several long strides, his arms opening and Rachel sliding into the space in what felt like a predestined move.
She needed him, and God help him, he longed to be there for her—with her—more than he’d wanted anything in his life.
His mouth covered hers in a kiss that didn’t come close to gentle, but his attempt to pull back, to moderate or even ask permission fell away as she met his lips with something that came closer to desperation than desire.
He wasn’t certain whether her request for him to stay had been a plea for support or a sensual invitation, but his mind tangled those two premises into an impossible knot.
Just like the other night, she tasted of heaven and all the other things he didn’t deserve. Yet there she was, needing him and, yes, wanting him, too. He didn’t have to dab his tongue to the seam of her lips to request admittance as she opened for him and deepened the kiss herself.
He knew he should think, maybe for the both of them since she seemed to be neglecting to do that for herself.
Her urgency was out of character. And too difficult to resist. As she lifted on her toes to press herself to him in every perfect place, he conceded that thinking was overrated.
Whatever she craved, however much and for no matter how long she wanted it, he would oblige.
As he dragged his mouth from hers in a mad search for a place for them to land, Rachel made a frustrated sound in her throat.
She moved to his neck instead. Tasting. Nipping.
And finally tracing with her tongue a line above the sweatshirt’s zipper and then dabbing deep in the notch between his collarbones.
His eyes drifted closed, but after a few more seconds of her determined ministrations, they flew open again.
“It’s been a…uh…real long time, so…”
“The truck,” she whispered in a tight voice.
“You’re sure?” Matching her in volume and strain, he tucked many questions into so few words.
Should they be doing this in her father’s truck?
Or at all? Did she remember who he was? Who she was?
Rachel answered at least a few of those questions with a nod against his neck, confirming her choice with another round of kisses on his heated skin.
Mick walked her backward, each step increasing in both friction and risk.
Rachel’s hands burrowed beneath his sweatshirt and shirt, smoothing up his back before dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans in mesmerizing sweeps.
At the pickup’s door, she reached back to release the handle while he slid out of his jacket and tossed it on the hood.
But as Rachel scooted across the bench seat, a flash of uncertainty appeared in her eyes. With his hands already on the edge of the seat as he prepared to climb in and settle himself on top of her, Mick stopped. Even if his whole body vibrated with need, the decision was hers.
“Just checking in,” he said as evenly as he could. “Still sure you want to do this?”
She reached out a hand to him and smiled before lying back on the upholstery.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the sliver of skin, exposed between the hem of her sweater and the waistband of her jeans.
The same sexy spot he’d been dreaming about since that first day in his office.
He stepped up on the running board, rested one knee on the edge of the seat and bent over her, dropping a single kiss on her belly.
Then another. And another. She squirmed beneath him, lifting up to him, wanting more.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed the words though he’d yet to see all of her. “Perfect.”
“Hardly.”
Her chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stretched out over her, their feet dangling out the open door.
Even with the steering wheel as a constant menace, he took her mouth again in an imitation of his plans for their bodies.
All in due time. For now, though, he just wanted to taste and nibble and move against her in a tantalizing caress until they both lost their minds.
Rachel apparently had other plans. No slow seduction for her, she seemed to want all he had to give right then. She tugged his shirt up his back to his shoulder blades. He scooted back out of the cab and yanked it over his head the moment his feet touched the floor.
As he tossed it on the hood next to his sweatshirt, Rachel watched him with an appreciative grin. If any part of him wasn’t already smoldering—and he doubted he could find one—heat would have covered that space, too.
By the time he’d climbed back on the running board, she’d already pushed up her sweater so that the red lace of her bra peeked out the bottom.
“Mind if I do that?” he asked before she could finish the unveiling.
“Well, since you asked so politely…” She rested back on her elbows.
Mick didn’t make her wait for long. He traced a line of kisses from her navel to her sternum while his hands slid her sweater up, grazing delicate skin in their paths.
“Touch me. Please.”
Though the next word might have been now, it started on a consonant and ended with a sigh as he slid both hands beneath her top, working what he hoped would be magic with his thumbs. Her sweet sounds suggested he was on to something.
They broke contact long enough for him to push the garment over her head. She released her bra’s front clasp, allowing all that loveliness to spill out, and then wiggled out of it and tossed it aside.
“So beautiful,” he murmured again.
This time she didn’t argue and even arched her back, welcoming his exploration with lips and fingertips. As she pulled him to her, and he melded into all that softness, he had to remind himself to relish each sensation while his body clamored for more.
Clothes quickly became a hindrance to their shared goal. They unzipped and shimmied and wiggled, occasionally bumping their heads on the long gearshift, until they lay naked, still stacked together out of necessity, but giggling too hard to take that next step.
“I don’t remember the car thing being this tough in high school.” He reached up to shove back his hair.
“You did a lot of this in high school? You mean… I’m not the first?”
Her chuckle rumbled against his chest like it had before. Only this time with no barrier between them.
“First since the divorce, anyway.” He focused on the dashboard instead of looking down at her. “The rest is so long ago that I barely remember.”
“Good. Even if it was a while back, I suspect you can recall every embarrassing, fumbling minute.”
Mick whacked his head on the steering wheel again and then rubbed his aching temple. “There’s a whole house up the drive, probably with real beds and pillows. We could—”
He stopped as her body tightened beneath him, making him regret the suggestion he hadn’t fully made.
It was her father’s house. To him, it might have seemed no different than her dad’s favorite pickup that they were currently defiling in the best possible way, but to her, it must have been a whole other matter.
“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine. Really. But as I said, I turned the heat way down in the house.”
“And it’s at least a little warmer out here,” he said, accepting her excuse though they both knew it was more than that. He climbed off her carefully to avoid injuring either of them and then stepped around the door to grab his sweatshirt.
A heaviness settled in his chest, while the cold he hadn’t noticed before prickled his skin.
Though he was dying to make love with Rachel, nothing about this felt right.
Not the timing. Not the location. He wanted more for them.
Yet if she asked him to, he would climb right back in that truck and finish what they’d started.
He’d fought the temptation to get too close to her, but it couldn’t have been clearer that he’d lost the battle before the first shot was fired.
“You’re not backing out, are you?”
He glanced up to find her watching him from the open doorway.
“No, but—” He gestured to the messy space all around them. If they couldn’t go inside, they were out of options.
“Good. Because I have an idea.” Rachel scooted out of the truck, shivered and lunged for her coat. Once she had it on, she race-tiptoed barefoot across the cold concrete.
“What’s that?”
When she didn’t answer, he followed after her, slipping his arms into his sweatshirt sleeves as he went. His feet stung every time they touched the floor. She moved from box to box, peeking inside a few, and then moving on to the labeled tubs.
“See if you can find anything that says ‘Quilts.’”
Soon, they’d located four plastic containers, all labeled the same way, and dragged them to the room’s one open space, next to the truck.
Once Rachel started pulling out the heavy, colorful blankets and dumping them on the floor, he realized what she had in mind.
Together, they spread out at least seven quilts until they’d created a pallet.
She rolled an eighth quilt into a long pillow of sorts and held a folded one in her arms.
“Now that’s better.” She shook out the last blanket, settled crisscross on top of the pile and covered her lap, still wearing her coat. Then she held out a hand to him. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’ll do. Kind of like camping.”
Mick lowered to his knees and brushed his fingers over the soft pallet but didn’t take her hand. “Have you done a lot of ‘camping’ out here?”
Without looking up, Rachel rubbed her hand over the fancy connected-circle pattern on the cloth. “You didn’t ask me that about the truck.”
“I guess I didn’t. I shouldn’t have asked you this, either. You don’t have to answer. It’s none of my business.” He wasn’t prone to jealousy, but the burning sensation in his gut was hard to deny.