Wicked Burn(60)
Author: Beth Kery

The first three weeks of Niall’s stay on the farm passed much more smoothly than she would have ever expected or perhaps hoped for, given that the easy going was mostly because Vic almost completely ignored her presence. His avoidance of her was compounded by the fact that he spent several days a week in Chicago, overseeing his play and running the Hesse Theater. She sometimes wondered if she would have had a better chance of running into Vic on a Chicago street than she would on his farm. At least the Hesse would be closed during July, and the chances were that he would spend less time in the city.

She hoped anyway, if his determination to stay away from her didn’t make the city seem more and more tempting to him. Maybe he and Eileen Moore were busy sharing dinners together at The Art after performances of Alias X, as well as Vic’s bed at the Riverview Towers—

Just the thought acted like a poison to Niall’s system, making nausea sweep through her like a wave.

June—perhaps one of the most changeable months in central Illinois—segued from a crisp, refreshing spring to a humid, sweltering summer with amazing rapidity. She enjoyed her class and found her twelve students a joy to teach. The class was held three days a week for two-hour sessions, however, so she found herself having a lot of time on her hands. She and Meg grew closer as they took on several projects on the farm—expanding Meg’s already extensive garden, refinishing the farmhouse’s enormous antique front porch swing, or taking shopping trips to Bloomington for bulk food items or art supplies. They also took long walks on the horse paths that cut through the large property, meandering by a wooded area and a small lake in addition to the vast acreage of the fields. Sometimes they’d see Tim or one of the men in the distance on a tractor, and they’d wave.

Niall felt invigorated by country living. She’d always been an early riser, finding early morning to be the best time to do her yoga routine. Lately she’d shifted her time for her workout to the evening, since she was often busy helping with the breakfast the men ate before they left for the fields. She enjoyed her solitary workout in the empty, spacious living room that Meg had decorated, like the rest of the farmhouse, in the arts and craft style. Last Monday night she’d sensed eyes on her while she was collapsed on the floor in a stretch, only to look up and see Vic. He seemed unbelievably tall from her position right next to the floor, the top of his head coming within less than a foot from the entry archway. The sight of him struck her as compelling . . . even impressive . . . in its unexpectedness.

Their gazes met and held. Niall eventually sat up slowly and struggled for something to say. But before she could, his eyes flickered over her. His nostrils flared. Desire bloomed in her lower belly and spread, making her sex ache with a dull throbbing pain when she realized her legs were completely spread while she faced him. She knew how much she hungered for him, but in that moment the magnitude of her primitive need felt overwhelming in its intensity.

His eyes skated back up to her face.

Niall wondered what she wouldn’t have given at that moment to have Vic kiss her once again, touch her, thrust his cock deep inside her to apply friction to that elemental ache. The last time they made love seemed like a distant, longed-for memory that she grasped at so frequently nowadays that it had started to take on the quality of a dream.

He seemed to hesitate for several seconds, as if he wanted to say something . . . as if he wanted to do something. But then he’d inhaled sharply and turned away.

And even that poignant, brief encounter had become nothing but a memory.

Niall began to cook more and more frequently for the family and farmhands once she had convinced Meg that she actually enjoyed it and wasn’t just being polite. She’d always been a good cook, and missed it sorely while she’d lived in Riverview Towers. She couldn’t help but be flattered by Tim, Andy, and Tony’s eager faces and exuberant praise over her cooking, or the fact that Donny planned his visits and work schedule in the stables to coincide with the meals that she prepared.

The few times that Vic did put in an appearance at the large oak table in the farmhouse kitchen, he remained silent while everyone else gushed about her homemade biscuits and sausage gravy, her marinated roast chicken and potatoes, or some other dish. But Niall couldn’t help but take some satisfaction from the fact that Vic always ate everything on his plate and, more often than not, fought Tim or Andy or Meg for seconds. She was glad when Meg or Tim questioned him about how things were going at the theater or about his writing, because she felt too self-conscious about doing it when everyone sitting at the table knew that Vic disapproved of her presence there.

She felt like a thief, stealing glances at Vic covertly on those occasions. It heartened her to see that although his hair was still shaggy he at least wasn’t quite as thin as he had been when she first arrived. He was shaving again. The tan that he acquired so easily from riding or working on the farm made him even more magnetically attractive.

Niall found herself staring at his bare forearms while he ate, thinking they were a relatively safe target for her covetous glances. She’d never have guessed before she met Vic that a man’s bare, muscular arms or big, capable-looking hands could be so sexy. For Niall, however, Vic’s forearms and hands rivaled the sight of his long, hard thighs or his tight ass in his well-worn jeans. Well—they took a close second.

And beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Once he’d caught her staring and abruptly paused in the motion of cutting his pork chop. She’d looked up guiltily to find him gazing directly at her. His bronzed skin made his light eyes even more compelling in their impact. Niall froze in her chair like a small animal that had just come into the sight of a predator. She couldn’t read the inexplicable expression in Vic’s eyes in that moment. By the time he made his characteristic rolling motion with his jaw and glanced down, Niall was left breathless with confusion and longing.

He’d left the kitchen early that night, surprising Meg when he turned down a serving of her homemade strawberry shortcake.

Niall watched a few seconds later through the window over the sink as Vic backed out of the driveway. She’d tried not to think of where he might be going, but she was about as successful at that as she was at torturing herself by imagining what he was doing with Eileen Moore on those nights when he stayed in Chicago.

About two weeks after Niall’s arrival, Donny had innocently forced Vic to acknowledge her while they were eating dinner. It was a sunny, comfortably warm summer evening. The fact that it was a Friday night and that Vic was home from Chicago gave a festive air to dinner that night. Niall had spent a good part of the afternoon, after she’d returned from class, cleaning the enormous barbecue in the backyard, which Meg admitted hadn’t been used once since they’d moved into the farmhouse. When Niall’d finally cleaned the monstrous iron contraption to her satisfaction, she’d put it to good use by preparing some juicy steaks, corn on the cob, and baked potatoes on it. They were in the midst of enjoying their summertime feast when Donny suddenly sprung his unexpected question to Niall.