Strong, Silent Type
Page 12

“I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with you.” A wistful look crossed her face. “Sometimes I think we’ve come so far…and then I look at you and still feel like that unsure sixteen-year-old girl.”
That jarred him. “Unsure about me?”
“No, unsure on why you picked me.”
“Why?”
“The McKay boys’ reputation for preferring wild girls. I’ve never been wild.”
“I ain’t ever been like my cousins when it comes to skirt chasin’. Didn’t interest me.” He allowed a small grin. “On the other hand, I’m likin’ that you’re finally gettin’ wild with me.”
“But, you could’ve had any girl.”
“Don’t matter. I didn’t want any other girl besides you, Libby. Then or now.”
Libby’s gaze roamed his face. “What are we doing?”
Quinn knew she wasn’t referring to their supper plans. A temporary break from the issues would do them both good, so he deliberately misunderstood her. “Soon as you slip on some clothes, we’re headed to the Tasty Treat.”
Her mouth opened. Closed.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fine.” She hopped off the table. “But I’m not sharing my chocolate malt with you.”
Chapter Seven
“Wanna another bite?”
“No. I’m stuffed. I shouldn’t have eaten all those mozzarella sticks.”
“It’s good to indulge once in a while.”
Libby stirred the dregs of her shake. “I worked damn hard to lose weight. Overindulgence will pack those pounds right back on.”
“If I haven’t said so, you look good. Real good. Damn good.”
She snorted. “You weren’t very complimentary when I asked you that same question three months ago.”
“You can apply my earlier ‘I was a prick’ comment to that response too.”
“So why did you say that?”
Quinn sighed. “I thought you were fancyin’ yourself up because you were fixin’ to dump me.”
Her hand froze on the straw. “And then I—”
“Told me you wanted a trial separation.”
“Oh Quinn, oh damn. That’s not why I…” Good Lord. With all the mixed signals they’d been sending each other it was a miracle they’d managed to stay married as long as they had.
When he didn’t add anything else, Libby shoved the empty cup on the dash and scooted closer. “I’m sorry.”
“I get that now. It’s over and done with.” Quinn slapped his thighs. “Climb on over here and sit on my lap.”
“We gonna kiss and make up?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna cop a feel in the truck.”
“I guess we’ll see if you get to second base, buddy.”
“I’m hopin’ for a grand slam.” Grinning, he adjusted the seat.
Libby balanced on one knee and swung the other over his left leg, placing her hands on his shoulders as she lowered onto his lap. Then she took his hat off.
Quinn flexed those scarred, callused hands she loved so much across her upper back and slowly pulled her toward him.
Eyes locked, bodies pressed together, each inch they moved closer built anticipation higher. Heated breath mingled, lips softened, hearts raced.
A whisper apart, Quinn cocked his head and let his mouth sink into hers. He teased, tempted, nibbled, drawing out the kiss until Libby shook with need.
The moment was as erotic as it was familiar.
She allowed her hand to wander over his jaw, cheeks, temple and forehead. She raked her fingers through his hair. Gently biting at his mouth, dipping her tongue between his parted lips and slicking it across his teeth. When he opened wider, she dove in, offering him the same reckless passion he’d shown her.
A satisfied groan rumbled from Quinn’s throat.
Giddy, feeling freer than she had in ages, she touched, stroked and rubbed against her husband until they were both panting. Frantic. Aroused.
Three raps on the passenger side jolted them out of the moment and the crotch-grinding kiss. They squinted at the interloper through the steamed-up windows.
Vaudette Dickens. President of the Presbyterian Ladies Guild, neighbor to the Charles McKay family for years…and Quinn’s mother’s best friend.
Quinn swore under his breath.
Libby began to slide back, but Quinn stopped her retreat with a terse, “Stay put.”
He offered Vaudette a smile and leaned sideways to roll down the window. “Miz Dickens. I’m surprised to see you.”
“I’ll just bet you are, Quinn McKay.” Her eyes narrowed behind thick-lensed glasses. “Who’s that with you? Libby?”
Libby wanted to snap, “Who else were you expecting?” but she managed a civilized, “Yes, it’s me, Miz Dickens.”
“Goodness. I thought you two were separated.”
“We are. Were. Anyway, we’re workin’ it out,” Quinn said.
“That’s wonderful. Does your mother know?”
“Ah. No, ma’am.”
“Honey, with the way you two are carrying on, by tomorrow morning everyone will know you were fogging up your truck windows at the Tasty Treat.”
Mostly courtesy of Vaudette’s lips, Libby thought.
“And your point is?” Quinn drawled.
Vaudette’s shoulders snapped straight. “I was looking out for your best interests. I popped over here because I was certain some wild teenagers were out joy riding in your truck and I wanted to give them what-for before I called the sheriff.”
“Now why on earth would you think something like that?”
She motioned to Libby still perched on Quinn’s lap. “Because I expected such behavior from hormonal teenagers, not from a longtime married couple. Goodness, aren’t you two a little old to be necking in the Tasty Treat parking lot at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”
Quinn smirked at Libby. He smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear. “God, I hope not. A man’s entitled to kiss his wife, whenever and wherever he pleases.”
Libby bit her lip to keep from laughing at Quinn’s double meaning.
Vaudette let out a gasp that managed to be both indignant and chiding.
“But we appreciate your concern, Miz Dickens. And you’re right. I reckon we oughta take this someplace more private.” He looked at Vaudette and winked. “Tell my mother I said hello,” and he cranked up the window.
Libby lost it. She buried her face in Quinn’s neck to muffle her laughter.
“Damn busybody.”
She lifted her head. “The gossip won’t bother you?”
“Let ’em gossip. I could give a damn.” He frowned. “This ain’t gonna affect your job at the library, is it?”
“Kissing my husband in public is hardly a firing offense.” She brushed her lips over his. “But fucking my husband in public is a different story.”
“You wanna fuck me?”
“Uh-huh. You got me all hot and bothered. I’m thinking about the positions we didn’t try today because we were too busy talking.” Libby traced the inside of his ear with her tongue and gently blew across it. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”
He started the truck with her still on his lap.
“Quinn! You can’t drive like this.”
“Like what? Bein’ horny as hell with a hot woman bouncin’ on my pole as we hit every damn pothole on Main Street?” He grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
She whapped him on the chest before returning to the passenger side.
He wiggled his hat back on his head and threw the gearshift in reverse.
When they hit the outskirts of town, Libby casually asked, “So, since you didn’t get to fulfill your fantasy earlier today, do you have any others you wanna share with me?”
Quinn shot her a sideways glance. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
“I’ve got no problem sharing a fantasy, but you go first.”
“Okay.” He shifted in the seat. “I wanna fuck you while you’re wearin’ nuthin’ but them tight, black suede chaps with the long fringe runnin’ down the sides.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m a simple man. Your turn.”
Libby wondered how he’d react to her fantasy. Would he get angry? Go along with it? Think it was weird? Or stupid?
“Lib?” he prompted. “No more secrets, remember?”
She blurted, “Let’s pretend we’re strangers. You picked me up in a bar after we slow danced and shared a couple of smokin’ kisses. You’re taking me back to your place to have your wicked way with me.”
“You wanna do this now? Tonight?”
“Yeah. And when we get home—I mean there—I wanna spend the night in the horse trailer.”
“Deal. But if we were strangers and so hot to have each other, I bet you’d be sittin’ closer to me.”
Relieved at his willingness to play along, she slid next to him. She flipped the radio on low and Dwight Yoakam crooned a mournful song about love gone wrong. Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder and lazily rubbed her bicep.
Libby stroked the corded muscle of his thigh beneath his soft sweatpants. With every sweeping pass her fingers drifted higher, lingered longer. She’d forgotten how much she loved touching him and hearing the soft catch of his breath whenever she did something he liked.
She glanced at him. Quinn’s knuckles on the steering wheel shone white in the dashboard lights.
Talk about tense. What could she do to relax him?
A naughty idea popped up. Smiling, she hid her face in his neck. “Mmm. You smell good.”
His answer was a low groan.
Encouraged, Libby continued nuzzling his throat, letting her fingers wander until they reached the swelling between his thighs. She traced the length of his erection. The only barrier between his cock and her hand was a thin piece of fleece.