Winning Love Page 10

  Gayle slowly lifted her leg herself, spread her thighs, and placed her other foot on the other side of the counter. Mesmerized, he watched her grasp the fabric of her skirt hanging between her thighs and slowly draw it up to her stomach. And she was exposed. Pink, wet, with a narrow strip of hair.

  “Fuck, woman,” he growled, unable to take his eyes away.

  “Have a taste, Mac.”

  Oh, yeah. She was definitely just as free sexually as she was with life. A thrill shot through him straight to his cock, hardening it even more.

  Lowering his head, he took his first sample, the equivalent of a nibble, but it was enough to wrench a moan from her. Needing to coax more of those delicious sounds out of her, he sucked her clit into his mouth and circled it with his tongue. His actions didn’t go unrewarded. Listening to her was so fucking hot, it spurred him to increase the aggression of his mouth and tongue, and to thrust fingers deep inside her. As she came against his lips, the harsh moan of her orgasm filled him with pure male satisfaction.

  He placed a gentle kiss on her swollen clit and then lifted his head.

  Yeah, he could listen to Gayle’s bedroom noises all fucking night.

  And that was exactly what he planned to do.

  Gayle kept her eyes locked on Mac’s wet lips. For a man who had been so hesitant, he sure as hell wasn’t hesitant in the bedroom. Shooting her arm out, she fisted his shirt and yanked him forward, fusing her mouth to his in an aggressive kiss that made it clear they were far from done.

  Letting go of the shirt, she trailed her hands down his chest to the hem and tugged it up. He broke away long enough to pull the shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. A few seconds of fumbling later, his shoes, pants, and boxers were off, too. He lifted her off the counter and put her on her feet. While he tore through a grocery bag, she shimmied out of her dress, letting it pool around her feet. He came back with a box of condoms and she smiled, then took his hand and led him out of the kitchen.

  She liked a man who came prepared.

  He didn’t ask any questions, just let her take him. The delicious man had tasted every inch of her and she planned to return the favor in turn. When they reached the couch, she pulled him to stand in front of her and tapped his pecs with her fingers in a gentle shove. Not that it would’ve taken him down, but he fell back against the cushions in a comfortable position.

  Chuckling at his easy willingness to play along, she lowered to her knees between his spread legs. “For a man who can be so predictable, you keep surprising me.”

  A cocky smile turned up those amazing lips. “Got to keep a woman guessing.”

  “That you do, handsome. That you do.”

  She lowered her eyes to the thick, long cock jutting proudly from his body. As she ran the tip of a finger over the velvety skin, it jerked. “Would you like to feel my mouth on you?”

  “Oh, fuck, yeah.”

  God, he was going to be one hell of a lover.

  Gently she cupped his balls, massaging them in her palm as she slowly slid the head of his cock inside her mouth. The groan followed by a roughly muttered, “Fuck,” gave her incentive to keep going. She took each inch of him in, then pulled back, over and over, increasing the speed with each bob. His breathing became choppy, and she jerked her head up.

  No coming for the man. Not yet, at least. Her mouth wouldn’t be the only place his cock would penetrate first. She moved her way up his body and nipped at his hips, kissed over his drool-worthy abs, circled her tongue over his nipples, and sucked on his throat before finally getting to his lips. Delving her tongue between them, she straddled his pelvis, his cock sliding against the back of her ass.

  “Condoms?” she asked against his mouth.

  A foil package was shoved into her hand. She gave a hum of appreciation, then tore it open and worked her hand between their bodies, sliding the rubber over him.

  “Fuck, just having you wrap your hand around me feels so fucking good.”

  “You just wait.”

  She lifted up, then slowly took him inside her. Closing her eyes, she moaned in pleasure as the man stretched and filled her. Jesus. She took a moment just to enjoy the feel of him, then she opened her eyes. And she started to ride. His fingertips bit into her hips as she moved her pelvis in a rhythmic motion. So good. It felt so damn good. She leaned her forehead against his, increasing the speed of her hips. It wasn’t enough. Not deep enough. Not fast enough. A frustrated moan stuttered past her lips.

  Quick as a snap of his fingers, Mac flipped her on her back. His arms anchored beneath her knees, keeping her legs spread wide and pressed up close to her chest. He took control, pounding into her. How deep he got, how fast he thrust, how hard he took her, made uncontrollable sounds of pleasure escape her mouth. She bit her bottom lip, trying to mute them. Even hushed, they poured out of her. She couldn’t keep her responses contained because he dominated her body, yanked them from her. She fought against the urge to let every moan, groan, and “Oh, God,” rip loudly into the air.

  She loved sex, enjoyed the hell out of it, but this overpowering carnal need was new—and a bit terrifying.

  When he reached down and touched her, she came instantly, and the cry that pushed to erupt with it was smothered by her clamped teeth, the decibels chopped in half. Above her, Mac jerked, a guttural growl rumbling out of him, his eyes clenched tight. Breathing heavily, moments later, he lowered and braced himself on his elbows.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered as he kissed her.

  Holy shit was right. The man had just rocked her damn world. Sex with Mac had been a whole new experience, and she was giddily thankful she had a few more weeks with the man. Because this kind of sex, she could get used to.

  A computerized music beat broke into Mac’s sleep as Gayle stirred beside him. Lifting his head, he watched her fumble for her cell phone on the end table. He rubbed his hand down her side and settled back against the pillow, thinking about the amazing night they’d shared and how utterly sated he felt. An intense training session didn’t wear him out this well.

  “Hello?” The huskiness of sleep roughened her voice, and he found it so sexy he nipped her bare shoulder. She squeaked and swatted at him, but then she sent him a grin. A round of morning sex, then a nap, sounded like a great idea. He rained kisses over her skin.

  “Really?” Her body tensed, and he lifted his head, concerned. “Wichita Falls, Texas. Got it.”

  Flinging aside his arm and the covers, she hopped out of bed, revealing her beautiful naked ass as she scanned the floor, then glanced toward the door with a frown.

  She was looking for her dress. It was downstairs where their clothes had been discarded in the living room.

  She darted to her dresser and started yanking out garments. “It’s just shy of seven. If we leave within the hour we can be down there a little after lunch. With the late spring, it’s been quiet this season. Maybe we’ll get some footage. I need to have something to give to Peter soon, or I’m worried he’s going to pull the funding.”

  Season. Footage. Funding. What was she talking about?

  He lifted up on his elbow and watched her. There was an excited animation to her movements. What the hell was going on?

  Balancing the cell on her shoulder, she shimmied into underwear and black shorts. “Yeah, meet me here. I’ve got to get some things ready, then we’ll hit the road.”

  She tossed the phone on the bed and yanked on a shirt almost simultaneously.

  “Who was that?” he asked.

  “Rick,” she said as she gathered her hair in a ponytail and secured it with a band.

  Why was she rushing around like a mad woman? He rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes. “Your co-worker?”

  “Yep. There’s a storm system forming down in Texas. The first of the season that has the potential to bring tornadic activity.”

  At the mention of the violent natural disaster, every muscle in his body petrified. His heart squeezed painfully. He sat up straig
ht. “Gayle, why are you so amped over a storm system?”

  He feared he already knew the answer but prayed he was wrong.

  “Damn it. I need a bra.” Distracted, she went back to the dresser and tugged one out.

  “Gayle. Why?”

  As she worked a bra on under her shirt, she scrunched her nose at him. “Potential tornadoes, handsome. Why else would I be excited about possible tornadic activity? I can’t chase if the atmosphere isn’t right to spawn twisters.”

  Chase?

  A roaring filled his head. His mind, his body…his heart protested against the repellant information. She grabbed a pair of hiking boots, perched on the end of the bed, and laced them on.

  “Are”—He had to swallow hard against the chokehold her words had locked in around his throat—”you saying you’re a tornado chaser?”

  “Technically, we’re called storm chasers, but yeah, the goal is to catch a tornado.”

  Oblivious to his blossoming horror, she hopped to her feet and gave him a peck on his dazed lips. “We’re heading to Texas, so I’ll probably be gone a few days. Let yourself out, okay? I’ll see you when we get back.”

  Then she was gone.

  Just like that.

  As if she hadn’t just given him the worst mindfucking of his life.

  Woodenly, he pushed aside the covers and stood on numb legs. How had this happened? Why would this happen—to him? To him? He stumbled his way downstairs, dazed, and jerked on his clothes. Hearing Gayle rummaging around in the bonus room, now knowing what the equipment was used for, his stomach heaved. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t be in the same room with her. Silently, he let himself out the back door.

  As he made his way to Lance’s house, the stupor her admission had caused faded, and the ugly darkness he knew as life took hold.

  Why was he so goddamn stunned? This was the way shit worked. Four years of depending on nothing, on nobody, and he’d gotten along just fine. Then that woman had come in and fucked it all up. And as soon as he opened himself up again, what happened? Life coldcocked him hard right in the face, then stood over his dazed body and said, “You stupid motherfucker.”

  He couldn’t argue.

  Only a stupid motherfucker would spend years keeping his distance from everyone, only to unknowingly fuck the one woman who actively sought out—who actually chased after—the destruction that had shattered his life.

  What were the odds? How was that even possible?

  Of all the women in the goddamn world, the one, the only one, he’d responded to sexually was a fucking tornado chaser.

  Mac stepped into the house and froze. Lance was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating a bagel. Had he known all along? Of course he had.

  Mac released the door, letting it slam shut. Motherfucking asshole.

  His friend jumped as his head shot to the side. Dropping his bagel on a napkin, he shoved the chair back and stood. “Jesus, man? You’re pale as a sheet.”

  “Did you know?” was all Mac could get past his clenched teeth.

  “Know what?”

  “About Gayle.”

  “I need more details, bro. You’re not making much sense.” Lance took a cautious step forward. “What about Gayle?”

  “She chases tornadoes.”

  His friend jerked back as if struck, then immediately shook his head. “No. You’ve got to be mistaken.”

  “Mistaken? She’s headed to Texas to chase a system right this minute.” Fury overtook Mac and he fisted his hands, baring his teeth. “And she was fucking excited about it. People will die, but she’s over the goddamn moon about the possibility of catching video footage. It’s fucking disgusting.”

  “Shit,” Lance whispered, and swallowed. “Did you—”

  “Yes. I fucked her last night,” Mac cut him off, not wanting to hear his friend, wanting—no, needing—someone to blame.

  A pained grimace contorted Lance’s face and he hung his head. Lance knew. And he understood the magnitude of how severely this had fucked Mac up. Good.

  “I let her near me. The only woman I’ve been with since I left this fucking place is a goddamn adrenaline junkie, and her fix of choice destroyed my fucking life.” Mac pointed accusingly at his friend. “You told me she would be good for me.”

  Lance lifted his head. Compassion and worry shone from his eyes, causing Mac to flinch. He’d had enough of that goddamn sympathetic expression to last a fucking lifetime. It was why he didn’t let people in.

  “I would never have encouraged it had I known, Mac. I swear to that. She moved in six months ago. Tornado season has just started. All she ever mentioned was being a meteorologist and that she had her PhD. That’s it.”

  It didn’t matter. What was done, was done. “When is this fight of yours?”

  Lance blinked. “A month.”

  “That’s all you’ve got, and then I’m the hell out of here.” He stormed toward the door. Just before he left the kitchen he turned and leveled Lance a deathly glare. “Keep that crazy, reckless woman away from me, do you understand? I won’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth if you don’t.”

  Chapter Six

  Three days later, Gayle turned the steering wheel of the SUV into her driveway. She spotted Mac standing on Lance’s front porch and her stomach jumped. She devoured the sight of him in black training shorts that couldn’t hide the strength of his thighs. The sleeveless, neon green fitted shirt hugged his chest and displayed the Celtic tattoo on his bicep beautifully. She couldn’t wait to trace those inked black lines again. It was insane how much she’d missed the man. She waved at him¸ but all he did was give a fierce scowl and stand motionless as a statue as she drove into the barn behind her house.

  “Was that the guy?”

  She glanced over at Rick, who looked as exhausted as she felt. “Yeah.”

  “Well, you sure had the curmudgeon description down. Dude looked all kinds of cranky.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip. He’d had time to think again. She’d tried not to worry about it while she was gone, but unease over him having second thoughts about their little fun arrangement kept invading her mind—and Rick had noticed. He’d pestered the crap out of her about why she was so distracted until she’d finally caved and told him about the handsome fighter who was visiting next door. Rick’s cryptic sigh, followed by, “What does it matter, you’ll only keep him around for a few weeks before you move on, anyway,” was accurate, but still hadn’t kept the man from dominating her thoughts…as he had her bed.

  After they climbed out of the truck and stored the gear away, Rick helped her carry the electronics into the house. “Peter’s not going to be happy, is he?”

  Gayle made a face. “Nope, but we can’t control a storm system. He’s just going to have to get over it.”

  “You don’t think he would pull the funding, do you? I’m enjoying getting a regular paycheck for once.”

  She chuckled softly. Like he needed it. She’d met Rick almost eight years ago at a frat party at the University of Alabama in Huntsville. Though he’d had no interest in atmospheric science, he had a BA in painting and art history. When she’d started chasing, he’d asked if he could join her because he wanted to try capturing Mother Nature on canvas. And, boy, could he ever. His paintings sold and sold well. He’d been driving for her ever since—without pay. But then, she hadn’t been getting paid, either, at first. When that had changed, she’d made sure Rick got a little bonus, too, for the loyalty he’d shown her.

  “He better not pull our funds. Not if he wants to flaunt Dr. Gayle Matthews as chief meteorologist for WKKS News.”

  That PhD had given her a hell of a bargaining chip when Peter had approached her with the job offer. She’d never held one iota of interest in being on TV. But video footage she’d captured last year of an EF-3 tornado that had hit a small town in Oklahoma had garnered national attention. Peter Gates, General Manager of WKKS News, had approached her days later and asked
about her credentials. He’d offered her the job of chief meteorologist on the spot, which she’d promptly turned down. She was very happy with her cushy professor position, and had an understanding with the University of Kansas that she did not work during active tornado season so she could conduct her ongoing field research. But when Peter’s offers kept getting more and more interesting, she’d quickly realized what he was truly after—her title as PhD in atmospheric science and her new national recognition. And so the bargaining had begun.

  The final agreement was that she would work for him as his chief meteorologist, he would provide her with a decked-out SUV with all the weather crap she needed to continue her research, and she would take tornado season off from the station so she was able to dedicate her time solely to chasing and her research. All the video she caught would be owned by WKKS, as long as it was clear that any footage necessary for her research could still be used by her. She couldn’t care less about the videos, really. The raw data was what she was after. The science.

  So, now she had the best equipment money could buy instead of what she could acquire each year on her meager salary—and no freaking tornado season to use it on. The universe was no doubt having itself a real good laugh at Gayle’s frustration.

  “We’ll just keep watching the maps and the numbers,” she told Rick as they put the laptops and other gear on her kitchen table. “We’re only a couple weeks in. Things are bound to pick up.”

  Hopefully, somewhere out on the miles of flat desolate land. Those were her favorite chases—with only the beauty of Mother Nature spread out before her—and the draw of her research. Once populated areas were affected, though, her research took a backseat to lending a hand where needed. People always came before data. Thankfully, those instances were few and far between.

  She inhaled and turned to look at Rick. “Go home. Get some rest. You know the drill.”

  He saluted her. “Aye, aye, boss lady. You do the same.”