“It’s my house,” Amy blurted. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Not alone, you won’t,” Caleb growled.
Well, that was okay. If he wanted to come in with her, she wouldn’t stop him. She took Donner’s leash and petted his head so he wouldn’t panic, then led him out of the car. Caleb moved to her side, staying right next to her as she marched to her front door. As she got to the doorway, she felt the absurd urge to knock . . . except it was her own damn house. She opened the door with a frown.
Greg sat there in her living room. He’d made himself comfortable on her love seat and was drinking one of her knock-off clearance-aisle sodas from her fridge and flipping through an old, battered magazine that Becca had given her. He looked up in surprise when he saw Amy and Caleb . . . and his gaze swung to the dog.
“There’s no pets on the lease,” Greg said by way of greeting.
She opened her mouth to protest, but Caleb stepped in front of her. He was furious. She could tell just by the set of his broad shoulders. “What exactly is on that lease?” he asked, and his voice was deadly calm.
Greg got to his feet. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just pointing out the facts. Her contract was very clear that this is a pet-free property.”
Amy sank down, her arms going around Donner. He was her dog. He needed her. He was blind and abandoned. He licked her face happily, tail wagging, as if he had no clue the conversation was about him. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Send him home with this guy.” Greg gestured at Caleb. “I need to talk to you privately anyhow, Amy.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she told Greg. Not when she felt like crying at the thought of giving Donner up. It had only been a few days but she’d grown to love the old dog. He made her feel not so alone at night. He snored, sure, and he got lost in the hallway, but his tail wagged when he heard her and he danced like a puppy in the snow.
He was hers, damn it.
“I find it real ironic that you’re here to talk about Amy’s lease,” Caleb continued in that too-calm voice. “Seeing as how when I got here, her ceiling had caved in and destroyed her bed.”
“I went into her bedroom to take a look. Seemed fine to me,” Greg said.
“You went into my bedroom?” she said, her voice sharp with surprise.
“To take a look at the ceiling, yeah. It looks fine—”
“That’s because Caleb fixed it!”
“I also fixed the sink,” Caleb continued in that same quiet, firm voice that told her he was barely holding on to his shit. “I fixed the faulty wiring, too. I fixed the windows. I fixed every leaking faucet. I fixed the hole in the roof, and the steps on the back porch because they were dangerous. You know why?”
Greg was silent.
“Because I don’t like the thought of anyone living in a place like this. I don’t like the thought of anyone having to worry that their house isn’t safe, or warm. I know Amy’s brought these problems to your attention multiple times and you haven’t done shit. In fact, I think the reason you’re here tonight”—Caleb’s voice took on a note of menace—“is because you’re interested in going out with her, not in the problems with her house.”
Greg’s gaze flicked to her, but he remained quiet.
“So are you really going to dither about the damn dog, or are you going to let her have it and maybe I won’t bring up to law enforcement that you’re having a schoolteacher live in a house that should be condemned? And you’re charging her for it? Because if word got around with all the problems poor Amy’s had—”
“Fine.” Greg put his hands up and took a step backward, and Amy realized Caleb had taken a few steps forward, getting in Greg’s face. Her eyes were wide as she looked between the two men. “You can have the dog. I can see you’re busy. We’ll talk more later.”
“If she wants to,” Caleb added as Greg scuttled past him. “And you don’t let yourself into her fucking house when she’s not here without her permission.”
“It’s my property—” Greg began, but went silent at the glare Caleb gave him. “Fine. Amy, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Why?” she blurted, a little disgusted at him. “You just came into my house when I wasn’t here. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
He frowned in her direction, glanced at Caleb, and then said quickly, “Rent is due on the first, remember that.” He cast one last look at her and then headed out.
Caleb immediately went to the front door. She thought he’d lock it, but instead, he went to the doorway and stood in front of the screen door, arms crossed, until Greg’s car pulled away.
Amy was in shock. Could one person be such an unrelenting creep? How had she let a man have such power over her again? She’d panicked when Greg had said that she couldn’t have Donner. It was probably on the lease paperwork, sure, but she hadn’t given it much thought. When he said she couldn’t have him . . . she’d just frozen in place. She wanted to cry with relief that Caleb had been here. That he’d stepped in and neatly reminded Greg of everything he’d done. So she hugged Donner again. “Thank you, Caleb.”
He ran a hand down his face, then sighed. “That guy’s a real piece of work.”
She laughed—it was either that or start crying. “He’s something, all right.” She hugged Donner again, burying her fingers in the soft fur. To think Greg could have so casually taken her dog away from her. “I didn’t think . . . it didn’t occur to me that he wouldn’t like the dog here . . .”
“He’s an asshole,” Caleb said flatly. “I like how he was fine with all the problems you have in this shithole but isn’t okay with a dog.”
A shithole? She was almost offended . . . except, well, this place was a shithole, wasn’t it? But it was her shithole. At least, it had felt like it until she’d seen Greg sitting on her couch. Now she just felt unsafe in her own home. Amy hugged Donner one last time and then got to her feet. Caleb still had a look of fury on his face, as if he wanted to destroy the world on her behalf. That was . . . gratifying. She approached him, a dozen worries racing through her mind. “Do you think he’ll be back? While I’m here?”
Caleb’s jaw clenched. “When I come by in the morning, I’m going to change the locks for you.”
“Oh, but my car—you fixed it—there’s no need—”
“When I come by in the morning,” he continued, repeating himself as he stared into her eyes, “I’m going to change the locks for you.”
She nodded, a knot in her throat. “Do you think I need to find Donner a new home?” The words choked her. Amy didn’t want to find him a new home. He was safe here. More than that, he made her feel safe. He was hers. In these few short days, she’d become so attached to him that she couldn’t bear the thought of giving him up.
Caleb put his hands on her shoulders, and just that small touch was comforting. “If Greg gives you any kind of trouble, any kind at all, you just say the word and I’ll take care of him.”
God, she loved that. She loved how fierce he was in his protectiveness of her. How he never questioned how she felt, or if she was the problem. He just took her side . . . and that was incredibly sexy. Amy took another step forward, because she wanted to kiss that frown off his face. She wanted to kiss him all over.
Their eyes locked.
She realized he was breathing hard, his shoulders heaving, and she didn’t know if it was anger from Greg’s intrusion or if it was her nearness. All she knew was that she wanted to kiss the hardness from his mouth. To make all that intensity about her.
So Amy shrugged off his hands, put her arms around his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.
She was going to be tender, she really was. But the moment he realized what she was up to, he met her halfway, and then they were kissing, and it wasn’t tender at all. It was fiery and wild and left her panting and breathless, and she wanted more than
just a kiss.
She wanted to hold him.
She wanted to be held.
She wanted to strip off his shirt and run her mouth all over those insanely gorgeous muscles.
Amy broke the kiss and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Come with me.”
He didn’t say anything, just gave one of those grunts that told her he was listening, and she dragged him into her bedroom and shut the door, leaving Donner on the other side. Then she pulled him toward her again, their mouths locking as she maneuvered them toward the bed.
“This isn’t sex,” she told him between kisses.
“Okay.”
“It’s just . . . a little touching.” She didn’t want him to get his hopes up. She kissed him again, her tongue flicking against his, and it sent a spiral of pleasure right through to her core. “A little kissing . . . on the bed. And some other stuff.”
He groaned, his big hands tangling in her hair, and then she wasn’t sitting on the edge of the bed anymore. She was underneath him, his mouth devouring hers even as his weight pressed her into the mattress. Oh sweet lord, he felt good. He was making her wild with need. How was it that this shy, silent cowboy managed to kiss her just the right way? How was it that his tongue and his lips seemed to light all kinds of fires deep in her belly, when kissing Blake had felt like a punishment for those last few years? Kissing Caleb felt like . . . bliss.
Bliss she wanted more and more of.
She moaned as he nipped at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and gently tugging. “How is it you taste so good?” he murmured between nips. “How is it you make me so damned crazy?”
Good, then she wasn’t the only one that lost her mind every time they touched. That was a relief to hear. She kissed him again, her tongue gliding against his as the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and her hands slid down his chest, rubbing against him. She explored him through the material of his shirt. Every inch of him was hard and muscled, and it just made her want him even more. As he kissed her, she dragged her hands lower, feeling bold and sexy. She paused at his belt, and then cupped his length.
It wasn’t entirely for his benefit, of course. She wanted to see if he was as turned on as she was. She wanted to feel all of him . . . and she wanted to show him how much she liked him.
Her hand encountered . . . a lot.
Caleb Watson was packing some serious heat downstairs, and Amy gasped, moving her hand over his length as if needing to double-check that all of that was really him.
He groaned into her mouth, kissing her harder, and his hips pushed against her grip.
Okay, yeah, that was all him. Wow. That was . . . impressive. “Caleb,” she panted, stroking him through his jeans. “Can I touch you?”
He kissed her again and then pressed his forehead to hers. “You mean you aren’t right now?” His voice was strained with effort, as if he was holding back.
She smiled and put a hand on his chest, easing him backward until they had rolled and he was the one on his back. Amy rested on her side and put a hand to his belt, undoing the buckle. “I meant underneath all this.”
He exhaled a deep breath, his eyes practically smoky with need. “You can do whatever you want with me, Amy.” Caleb reached up and gently touched her cheek, rubbing his knuckles along her jaw in a tender caress. “But know that I plan on doing the same to you.”
What, was that supposed to be intimidating? It sounded like a good deal to her. She leaned in and kissed him again, working on his belt buckle as she did. It wasn’t easy to manage one-handed, but she eventually got it and worked on his zipper next, easing it down. She changed her kisses to softer, gentle ones, toying with his mouth even as she eased his boxers down over his length.
Then he was hot and hard in her hand, and Amy gasped at the feel of him. She couldn’t resist a peek, so she ended her playful kiss and then sat up to look at him.
Lord have mercy, but he was gorgeous. Caleb’s cock was impressive. She’d only ever slept with Blake before this, but her memories of him were pale in comparison to what she held in her hand. He was hard and thick, and a vein traced along the shaft of Caleb’s cock, inviting her touch. The crown of him was flushed deep with color, thick and prominent and beaded with pre-cum. With a little breath of excitement, she grasped him again, tightening her fingers around his shaft, and realized her fingers couldn’t quite touch.
Size wasn’t supposed to matter, was it? Looking at all this in front of her, though, Amy couldn’t help but wonder if those people were wrong. Because she was really, really liking his size.
“Is this okay?” she asked him, breathless. “I’ll stop if you want me to—”
He groaned and pulled her down against him in a hard, fierce kiss, even as his hips surged up against her grip.
Amy moaned into his mouth, squeezing his cock and sliding her hand up and down on him. Okay, he was definitely good with things. She worked him gently, her movements slow because her hands were dry, and the last thing she wanted was to give him a dry hand job. A mental image came to mind—of greasing up her hand with her body lotion and working him until he came—and the idea was so breathtaking and naughty that she felt wicked for even thinking about it.
. . . which meant that she totally, completely wanted to do it.
“Can I make you come?” she whispered against his lips between kisses.
He groaned and bit down on her lower lip again, then licked the nip away. “You know I’m yours. Whatever you want with me, take it.” And he pumped into her hand again, rocking against her grip.
“Okay.” She let go of him, oh so reluctantly, and reached over the bed to pull the bottle of lotion from her nightstand drawer. The movement put her breasts in his face and he immediately palmed them, seeking out her nipples, and she cried out. Oh god, that felt amazing. She froze, not wanting to move from this spot even as he lifted his head and nuzzled at her breasts, working them with his hands and burying his face in them.
“Gonna make you come, too,” he rasped. “God, I want to touch you.”
Heat ached between her thighs, deep inside her, and Amy wanted that, too. She was so damn impatient, because she wanted everything all at once, but the enticement of making Caleb come was first and foremost on her mind. Even as he plucked at her now-hard nipples through her cashmere sweater, she managed to lean over and set the bottle on the nightstand. She pumped a large amount into her hand and clasped it tight, getting it all over her fingers and warming the slippery stuff.
She was panting as she slid her hand over his length, because he was still teasing her breasts with those big hands, as if as determined to toy with her as she was with him. And dear lord, it felt so good. When was the last time she’d been kissed and teased so much? When was the last time she was filled with so much aching need that she felt hollow?
His breath hissed out between his teeth as her slick hand glided over his length. He pulled and teased at her nipples as she clasped him in her fist and began to slowly pump his shaft, working him up and down. Caleb’s body was stiff as she leaned over him, his breath panting out with every stroke of her hand over his length. He pinched her nipples, hard, and she cried out, even as she felt him shudder and hot, wet heat spilled over her hand. She leaned down and kissed him furiously, still working him with her sticky hand, determined to give him every bit of pleasure she could.
When at last he groaned and pulled her hand off of him, she felt a curious sense of accomplishment. He hadn’t lasted long under her touch—she’d made him come hard and fast. That was a heady feeling, and she liked the dazed expression on his handsome face as he pressed his forehead to hers and worked to catch his breath.
That had been so very worth it. It didn’t matter that she was aching deep inside. He didn’t have to keep his promise—the pleasure had been hers just giving him that release.
He kissed her, all the frantic need drained ou
t of him, and the kiss was slow and sweet and oh so languid. “Towels?”
“Bathroom,” she whispered. “I can get it—”
“I’ll do it. Wait here.”
She watched him like the greedy woman she was, devouring the quick glimpse of dimples at his lower back as he got to his feet and hefted his pants back up. When he returned, they were done up except for his belt, and he had a warm, wet washcloth that he ran over her hand to clean her off. Such a kind, thoughtful man . . . and yet such a protective warrior streak, too. It was a combination that was like catnip to her.
He dumped the washcloth into her hamper, and she started to get up out of the bed.
Caleb immediately grabbed the front of her sweater in a handful and pulled her against him. “Don’t I get my turn?”
His husky voice made her body flood with heat. “Oh, you don’t have to . . .”
“You think I don’t want to?” He gently pushed her back onto the bed. She sat down on the edge, fascinated by the hungry, possessive look in his eyes. “You think I haven’t been dreaming about this ever since I saw you?”
She sucked in a breath. “Have you?”
“You have no idea,” he murmured, and then gave her shoulder a little push—the same one she’d given him—to drop her back on the bed. Amy lay backward, her legs dangling over the side, and she noted absently that she was still wearing her heels from work that day. Actually, she was still wearing all of her work clothes—her pale cashmere sweater, her green flared skirt, and those nude heels. It seemed a strange, too-prim outfit to be making out on a bed with a big, sexy cowboy, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her, and she wanted him to kiss her and make her feel good.
She watched, feeling like a silly virgin, as he lay on his side next to her, close enough that she could practically burrow against his broad chest. Caleb gazed down at her, watching her face, but he didn’t kiss her. It was making her crazy, all this wanting. Was he just going to stare at her for a while, then? What was he going to do?
Her Christmas Cowboy Page 15
