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“God, Becca,” he finally muttered as he could stand the torment no more. Flipping her onto her stomach and holding her bare breasts in both hands, he slid into her and made love as if he’d never stop. She closed her eyes as she clenched around him, her spasms echoing his as he collapsed, sweating and breathing hard.
“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered against her ear.
She could barely breathe, couldn’t think, as she held him close, enveloped in a warm shawl of afterglow, lost in sensation.
It seemed like eons later when he lifted up on one elbow and the low rumble of his voice asked, “Is it pizza time?”
She turned to him and guided his head so that he kissed her, sucked at her breast and began rubbing his hands over the small of her back and the slope of her rump. “Not yet,” she murmured.
They made love again, more slowly this time, and Becca was slightly amazed at how much she wanted him, how languid and lovely she felt in his embrace, how wild and sensuous she could become without a whit of reserve. When finally they both stirred, dressed, and headed downstairs, it was hours later.
“I believe that pizza might be cold,” Becca said.
“That’s what microwaves are for.”
“Just so you know, that wasn’t a complaint.”
He shot her a warm look as he placed several pieces of pepperoni pizza in the microwave. Becca’s gaze fell on a dog bowl shoved by the back porch, something she’d missed earlier. He must have guessed what she was thinking because he said, “My lab, Booker T., died last year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Becca said, heartfelt.
“He was old.”
“I have a dog. A mutt. Ringo. He’s kind of…my sanity meter. As long as Ringo’s around, everything else can be a problem and it’ll still be okay.”
Hudson glanced at the empty bowls. “I suppose I should put them away.”
“When you’re ready, you will.”
When the pizza was hot, they took their plates and sat down at the banquette in the corner, a scarred version that was surprisingly comfortable with gold cushions.
“I’ve always liked this place,” she said, looking out the window toward the barn, visible beneath the security lights. How many times had she and Hudson made love in the hay loft?
“Yeah…” He sounded pensive, as if his thoughts had traveled down the same path. “I told you I have a new foreman? My old one, Grandy, was with my parents for years. He was so much a part of this place, it’s a whole new world without him.”
“Did he retire?”
“He’s got personal stuff going on, so he suggested someone else to help me.” Hudson shrugged. “Hasn’t quite been the same. I’m hoping he’ll be back soon.”
“Personal stuff encompasses a lot of things,” Becca observed, thinking about her own issues as she bit into a pizza.
“His son is raising kids alone, broke his leg or something, and Grandy’s granddaughter’s pregnant. The whole family thinks the father’s a loser. She might be moving in with him. It sounded messy.”
“A baby?” Becca asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“Grandy’s stepping in to help. Not the ideal way to bring a new life into the world, without any kind of stability.”
“She’s keeping it?”
“I think that’s the plan, but there doesn’t seem to be any solid decision-making going on.”
She swallowed and looked away, wondering if she’d ever be able to tell him about the baby they’d almost had, wondering what kind of effect it would have, if any, at this late date, wondering if he would be glad the decision had been taken from them.
The conversation turned away from the tricky subject and Hudson gave her an oversized jacket and they walked through the rain and darkness to the barn where Hudson switched on the light and Becca was greeted by the smells of dry hay and old leather mingled with the warm scents of horses. She was introduced to three mares, Christmas, Tallulah, and Boston, an Appaloosa who seemed heavy with foal. “This is really more of a hobby than anything else, I guess,” Hudson admitted. She knew, though he didn’t say so, that he’d made his money elsewhere. That this farm was a dream he’d turned into a reality.
“You’ve never been married, have you?” Becca said as the horses snuffled in their mangers and she petted Boston’s soft nose. Tallulah, the bay, nickered softly for attention and Hudson scratched her between her dark ears.
“Nope.” He shot her a look. “Would you do it again?”
