Only, when her mistakes with Victor had made her stop believing in love, she’d also lost her love for dancing. And she had no idea how to recapture either of those loves.
But she’d never been helpless before, and she refused to feel helpless now as she stood up to stretch her back and look out over the hills that rolled all the way to the ocean. She was struck with wonder yet again at the beauty of the land, the quiet, the ever-changing colors of the landscape—even the clouds, which were dark now and covered the whole expanse of previously blue sky.
Suddenly, a crack of lightning split the sky and Lori turned her face up to the darkening clouds just as they opened. It shouldn’t make any sense that she should find such joy in the freezing pellets of rain that pummeled her—anyone with a lick of sense would be rushing to take cover from the harsh elements—but she couldn’t have held back her laughter for the world.
Lori opened her arms and leaned back to take it all in, to let the force of the storm barrel into her, her sudden laughter joining in with the thunder and lightning.
The rain was shockingly cold on her bare skin as it quickly soaked through her T-shirt and jeans, but she swore she could feel it washing her clean, pouring over her arms where Victor had once touched her, drenching lips that Victor had once kissed. She’d thought she’d been so free, so wild her whole life, but every time she went back to Victor after he’d hurt her, walls had started to grow around her heart, building up an inch at a time until they’d held her trapped inside.
Now, with each boom of thunder, with each bolt of lightning, those walls began to crumble.
Only Grayson’s curse could have been louder than either her laughter or the storm. Lori was still smiling when she looked over at him, still lost in the wildness that surrounded them both. Besides, she was getting used to seeing that scowl on his face whenever he looked at her. She was even starting to think it was a little bit cute, truth be told, as though he were just a little boy who wasn’t getting exactly what he wanted right when he wanted it.
Belatedly, she realized he already had his tools, and hers, put away in the saddlebags, and seconds later was swinging onto the horse’s back. From up on the horse, he reached down for her.
Suddenly, she could see him as he would have been hundreds of years ago, a warrior up on his horse, big and strong. A man a woman could count on to protect her, no matter what.
But her romantic visions were yanked away a second later when he reached down and scooped her up into his arms so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to fight him. He grabbed her, brought her chest to his, and with nothing but one arm, he settled her on his lap, her legs over his...and then he was riding away with her.
It shouldn’t be sexy or romantic, damn it, and she also shouldn’t be getting turned on by having to hold on to his big muscles, or by the way the seam of her jeans rubbed up against his in just the right way, right where she’d been overheated since the first time she’d laid eyes on his too-beautiful face and his too-perfect body.
No, instead of being turned on by his barbaric behavior, she needed to be rightfully outraged by the way he’d yanked her up onto the horse with him again. Only, just as she was about to open her mouth to give him a piece of her mind over the sound of the rain crashing down on them, another crack of lightning flashed—close enough that they could actually see the bolt slam into a tree less than a quarter of a mile away. Thunder rolled in immediately afterward.
The horse reared and as they started sliding on the saddle, Lori automatically tightened her grip on Grayson, holding onto him for dear life with her arms and legs. He cursed again as he worked to keep them steady, his grip tightening around her waist so that she wouldn’t slide off him.
“We’re not going to be able to get back to the house,” he yelled over the rain as he quickly changed direction, heading down closer to the ocean rather than back toward the farmhouse. “I’ve got to get Diablo out of the storm.”
Of course all he could think about was getting his horse to safety. He clearly loved his horse, and planned on keeping him forever. Whereas Lori knew she had been nothing but a total pain in his rear, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
Still, he was so warm despite the cold wind and rain that she couldn’t help but bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. No man had ever smelled as good as he did, like soap and sweat that came from working hard, like fresh grass, and rich soil, and clean, sweet rain.
When a thick drop of rain ran down from his chin into the hollow of his neck, how could she do anything else but lick out against it so that she could finally drink him in the way she’d been secretly wanting to all along?
Another shiver went through her as her tongue met his skin and she finally found out just how good he tasted. Only, this time it had nothing to do with being cold...and everything to do with the desperate wanting she’d sworn she wouldn’t let herself feel.
When she’d come to Pescadero she’d thought she was dead inside, but Grayson had made her feel again, right away, despite knowing better. And now, the even bigger problem was that Lori had no idea how to keep some walls up while others fell. All she could do was let them all break to pieces, one by one, and pray that her heart would be strong enough to withstand being out there in the open again.
Of course, it wasn’t her heart she was thinking with as she went to take another taste. She had never been ashamed of her natural sexuality, and didn’t know how to start tamping it down now. Not when she was achingly hungry for Grayson’s touch, for the wonder of being his other half as they came together.
Lori had always been in tune with her body, had always automatically translated everything she felt, everything she saw, into dance. Until things with Victor had gotten so bad that she’d all but forgotten how to read or speak that language.
But now, as she held on to Grayson’s hard muscles, as she felt the pounding of the hooves moving through her while his horse galloped through the wet fields, as she gazed out through the rain to the raging ocean at the bottom of the cliffs, she finally saw through the eyes of a dancer again.
The rain had become sparkles of light pouring down from the ceiling of an auditorium over dancers dressed in the blues of the sky and the green of the grass and the reds and oranges and yellows of the flowers. Giving in to the storm, they danced, wild and beautiful. She could see a lone male dancer moving through them, solid despite the power of the storm as he reached for one of the female dancers, who was a colorful wildflower just breaking loose to go flying away, away, away.