Letting Go

Sarah McCarty

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The car pul ed up in front of the dark cabin. The white glow

of the moon reflecting off newly fal en snow highlighted the

isolation of the log home set at the foot of the mountain. It

was perfect. Remote. Comfortable. And it was theirs for the

weekend. No work. No pets. Nothing to distract them from

each other.

The uncharacteristic shyness that had been plaguing her

the entire four-hour trip came back in spades as Marc

switched off the car’s engine. Which was absolutely

ridiculous. They’d planned this weekend for a month.

Nothing was going to happen here that either of them

hadn’t eagerly anticipated, but now that it was time for the

planning to give birth to fantasy, she was shy to the point of

blushing. She, the woman who never blushed, never

embarrassed. Never lost control.

Becky pretended an interest in the scenery as the

driver’s side door opened. Marc’s gaze slid over her like a

touch, poking at her insecurities, asking silent questions

she didn’t want to answer. Anticipation and nerves fluttered

in her stomach in a queasy combination. She made her

expression blank to hide her discomfort.

Marc sighed. The door creaked open. “We don’t have to

do this, you know.”

She kept her voice just as balanced as her expression.

“Yes, we do.” Because she was so sick of not being who

she wanted to be with him.

“Then why the cold shoulder?”

That got her looking at him. He thought she was brushing

him off? She took a subtle steadying breath, inhaling the

scent of the outdoors…and Marc. Both were clean, crisp

and intangibly tied together in her mind, maybe because

they’d met on a weekend kayak excursion, but more than

likely because the man was as elemental as the forest

around them.

She unclenched fists she didn’t know she’d been

clenching. Good grief! No wonder he was asking

questions. She looked more ready to go into battle than

indulge in a romantic weekend. Becky shook her head at

her own idiocy, her hair swishing around her shoulders with

the movement. She brushed a strand away from her mouth.

“Believe it or not, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

He didn’t try to make eye contact again, which was

good. If she’d looked at him, pride would have demanded

she lie. “Because I’m afraid I might not live up to your

expectations.”

The back of his fingers brushed down the side of her

cheek. His low chuckle stil sent a shiver down her spine the

way it had the first time she’d heard it. Not for the first time she wondered what attracted him to her. He was as sexy

and as uninhibited as a man could get, and she had more

inhibitions than…wel , than anyone needed.

“Baby, we’ve been married for two years — do you real y

think I don’t know what you’re capable of?”

She looked at him then, taking in the amusement and

understanding in his gaze. He was so sure this wasn’t

going to be a disaster. “Neither of us knows that.”

His smile was a slow, sexy stretch of the lips she’d seen

many times before. Masculine. Knowing. And confident. He

was always so confident. “I know.”

She clung to that confidence as his hand skimmed her

neck, her shoulder, then her thigh. A pat on her knee

fol owed by a quick squeeze and then he was out of the car,

leaving her alone with her hopes, fears, and that borrowed

bravado. Crisp night air swept in on his exit and she

jumped as the door thudded shut.

She shook her head at her own cowardice. They’d

devoted this weekend to obliterating the inhibitions

between them. Inhibitions neither wanted. Becky slung her

purse over her shoulder, watching in the rear view mirror as

Marc walked around the back, a tal muscular silhouette

cast in moonlight. Cowering in the car wasn’t an impressive

start on her side.

She yanked the latch and shoved the door open. Snow

crunched beneath her feet as she stood and stretched. The

night sky expanded before her, a satiny carpet of black

speckled with shining stars and dotted with glowing

planets. She took a deep breath of the frigid air, shivering

as it bit into her lungs.

A cloud wafted across the moonlit sky. She released her

breath, watching the frozen vapor rise until it seemed to

meld with that wispy traveler, becoming more than what it

was, and yet stil less than it would be. For a minute more,

she watched the cloud skate along, free and unfettered,

and then smiled as, with absolute certainty, she knew

everything was going to be al right. There was nothing she

and he couldn’t do. Nothing they couldn’t accomplish. Not

together. Together, they were like that cloud. More than

what they had been before, yet ever growing with

boundless potential. She just had to stop being afraid to let

go.

Anticipation skittered through her veins as she walked

around the back of the car. The view here was as

interesting as the night sky, seeing as Marc was stretched

forward, retrieving a suitcase. The man had the body of a

runner, roped with lean, hard muscle. She slid her hands up

the side of his thighs, smiling as taut muscle flexed under

her touch, gliding them up over his narrow hips, under his

jacket, around his waist.

He jumped at the chil of her hands and then relaxed into

her hug, settling his palms over hers, pressing them into his

abdomen. As always, he communicated so much with a

touch, his thoughts as clear as if he’d spoken. She pressed

her cheek against the smooth leather of his jacket.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. And because she

couldn’t resist, added, “And I swear, I’m not going to be like

this al weekend.”

“Sweetheart, a few nerves aren’t going to send me

running scared.”

“Even if I babble occasional y?”

He turned in her arms, his hands dropping to the hol ow

of her spine. “I’ve never seen you babble. Might be cute to

witness.”

She tilted her head. With a foot difference in their

heights, she had to lean back a bit before she could see his

expression. “Trust me, it’s not a pretty picture.”

That half amused, half indulgent smile was stil on his

face. His head bent. Just before his mouth met hers, he

whispered, “I’l chance it.”

If there was ever proof that the man got her, it was right

there in his kiss. He didn’t just take what he wanted like she

expected, but rather he seduced, his mouth rubbing against

hers in a subtle coaxing that sapped the anxiety right out of

her and replaced it with a warm wil ingness. Wil ingness to

trust him, to do what he wanted, to be what he wanted.

What she wanted.

She opened her mouth and stretched up on her toes,

accepting the thrust of his tongue, the natural dominance in

his hold, tilting her head to give him more, letting him lead

her past the point where caution said stop. Spreading her

legs for the insertion of his thigh between, she checked her

impulse to control the need to rub against him, fol owing her

instinct and his lead rather than her head. With her next

breath she inhaled his groan of satisfaction.

“That’s it. Just let it happen.”

His grip moved to her hips, lifting her up against the

thrust of his cock, pressing down as she worked her hips in

an effort to get closer, to his heat, his cock, to him….

Too soon he was sliding her down his body, setting her

feet on the ground, separating their lips.

“Hold that thought.”

She didn’t want to hold anything but him. The press of

his thumb at the corner of her mouth sent a shock wave of

need through her. Everything she ever dreaded seeing in a

man’s eyes was there in Marc’s: amusement, satisfaction

and, worst of al , a complacent grin that said he knew

exactly how weak she was when it came to him. But her

inward flinch never got a running start because there was

no malice in that grin, just a bone deep satisfaction that

was as arousing as it was comforting because it said more

than anything else that at least one of them knew what they

were doing. And it was completely natural that it was him.

His jacket whispered a protest as she slid her arms free.

His hand cupped her cheek in one of those easy touches

that reached al the way to her soul, catching her before she

could step away. His hazel eyes were dark in the moonlight.

She leaned her cheek into his gloved palm and sighed. “I’m

an idiot.”

His answer was immediate. “Yes, you are, but you’re

mine, and I kind of like you this way.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A neurotic mess?”

His thumb brushed her mouth and a chuckle quirked his

lips before his hand dropped away. “Vulnerable.”

She held out her hand for her suitcase. “Uh-huh. Wel ,

don’t get used to it.”

He paused before dragging the cooler out and putting it

on the snow-encrusted ground. “I’l try to keep my

appreciation limited to the weekend.”

She averted her eyes as he settled a brown box on the

cooler’s white top. “Thank you.”

He closed the trunk and hefted the cooler and box. “My

pleasure.”

Becky fol owed as Marc led the way down the hil to the

cabin, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs with

each step delineating the strength beneath. She wondered

if he was thinking the same things she was. She wondered

if his cock was hardening as quickly as her pussy was

moistening. God! She wanted him. Wanted this. And, she

shifted the suitcase as she hurried to keep up, she was not

going to al ow anything to stop her from obtaining her goal.

She might have more than her fair share of inhibitions, but

she also had more than her fair share of determination, and

of the two qualities, the second was stronger than the first.

The cabin was cold, the vaulted ceilings and log wal s

harboring the chil of the outside. She turned up the

thermostat on the furnace and set to work on the fire as

Marc made the bed and unpacked the food.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the brown box

on the coffee table, looking lost in the vastness of the room.

The innocent-looking brown box that held al the sex toys

they’d selected together. Anything and everything they’d

seen that they thought they might use. It had been tough to

ignore the expense, but as it seemed the height of

ridiculousness to be prudent when pursuing decadence,

she’d conquered her caution to the point of maybe going

overboard. She battled an unreasonable urge to toss the

throw from the couch over it.

As if there was anyone here to see. As if Marc was

going to have a problem with anything contained in it. The

man had adventure in his bones. She was the one with al

the good-girls-don’t hang-ups. Heck, judging from his

comments as she’d pointed out a few things she’d been

interested in and from the confidence with which he’d made

his selections, there probably wasn’t anything in the box of

which he didn’t have firsthand knowledge. Just not with her.

And that fast, she added another emotion to the