Her Cowboy Lawman

by Pamela Britton

  He had a nice house.

  That, too, registered on some level. As did the wide-open space and the high ceilings and thick wooden beams above. She used a hand against his chest to steady herself and beneath it she could feel the pounding of his heart and it surprised her. Their gazes connected.

  “Are you nervous, too?” she heard herself ask.

  “You have no idea.”

  Yes, she did, she was about to say, but then he kissed her. It wasn’t the tentative kiss at the arena, nor the soft kiss at the beach. This was a carnal “I want you and you want me” no-holds-barred kiss and that made her soul sing, Yes! Her hands drifted upward as his mouth teased her lips until at last she opened herself to him fully, tasting him for the first time.

  And she knew.

  They were perfect for each other. He had a taste to him, a tangy essence that made her toes curl and her nerve endings fire and her fingers grasp behind his neck, and it was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. He changed the angle of his head. She opened even farther and tasted the coffee he’d had with his dinner and a hint of the raspberries in the glaze that’d been drizzled on his duck. Beneath it all she tasted something else, too. Something that was uniquely him—a sweetness that made her want to kiss him all night.

  His fingers found the straps of her dress. She shivered as he tugged them down and then moaned because he pulled his lips away and then groaned when his mouth lightly nipped the spot where the fabric had been. His other hand slid up her side, his thumb finding the curve of her breast, and she went weak when he touched her there, her head lolling back. That seemed to be an invitation for his mouth to move upward, his lips nibbling her as he followed the line of her neck. He suckled her. His hands squeezed her. She about died right there and then.

  “Can I take you to bed?”

  She heard the words from a distance, opened her eyes. He had pulled back enough so that she could see into his eyes.

  “We can stop right here if you want.”

  How different he was from Paul, who would take whatever he wanted. That was why she hadn’t been with a man in years. She’d been scared.

  She wasn’t afraid of Bren. Far from it.

  So she smiled softly and answered from the heart. “Yes.”

  * * *

  HIS HANDS SHOOK so bad he didn’t know if he’d be able to do much more than kiss her.

  “I apologize if there are clothes strewn everywhere.”

  There would be more clothes, soon. He almost stumbled; instead he led her down the long hall that ran parallel to the front of the house, the tall, narrow windows giving him a glimpse of the outside. His room was at the end and when he flicked the light switch on, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not as bad as he’d thought.

  “Your house is beautiful.”

  He pulled her through the door, back into his arms, staring deep into her eyes as he said, “Not as beautiful as you,” and meaning every word.

  He saw it again then, the uncertainty that’d been plaguing her gaze all night. What was it that concerned her? He’d tried to take it slow. Lord, out by his front door, it’d been all he could do not to push her up against it and take her then and there. Instead something told him to hold back. To let her set the pace, but damn it, the look in her eyes nearly killed him.

  “What?” he heard himself ask. “What is it that has you looking so worried? Is it me?”

  Her eyes widened. He nearly groaned when her tongue slipped out when she licked her lips. “No.” And he could tell by the directness of her gaze that she meant every word. “It’s not you at all.” She took a deep breath. “It’s me.”

  “You?”

  “Bren. It’s been forever. As in years and years. And I’m not young anymore. I’ve gained weight. Had a kid—”

  “Are you kidding?” He closed the distance between them. “You’re perfect.”

  “No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “See this?” She motioned toward her waist. “Spandex. And my breasts? Push-up bra. My legs look smooth because of panty hose and my belly hasn’t been flat since I had Kyle.”

  Insecurity. That’s what he’d been seeing in her eyes and it made his insides do something funny. He almost smiled. Almost. Instead he touched her shoulders, one hand moving upward so he could tip her chin.

  “When you were standing atop the dune at the beach, I thought to myself you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  He saw her eyes fill with tears. For some strange reason it set his own eyes to burning. How could such a beautiful woman lack confidence?

  Paul.

  He knew it in that instant. Knew that her brother had been right. She’d been in a miserable marriage. But she stuck it out, and it’d left scars. Deep ones.

  “You’re perfect.” He gently pulled her against him. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

  Her eyes had flared, but then just as quickly the fire faded. “I do, but I’m telling you, without my clothes...”

  “Shhh.” He used a thumb to silence her. “Just shhhh.”

  And then he kissed her again. He would show her without words how beautiful she was to him, how exquisitely perfect and desirable and just plain sexy. She still felt stiff in his arms, but he was patient, increasing the pressure of his lips until she opened for him and the sweet taste of her made him groan. She was honeysuckle wine. The caramel in the center of chocolate. The whipped cream atop a cherry pie.

  He didn’t remember doing it, but somehow he ended up pressing her against his bedroom door. He placed a palm against it, holding himself up, because kissing her was like riding down rapids on a hot summer day. Exhilarating and wild and just a little bit crazy.

  She suckled his tongue.

  Their tongues twined and twisted and he was in a frenzy of desire, lifting his hips and then sliding down again, recreating the same movement in her mouth, his whole body tightening and hardening until...

  “Damn.” He all but gasped the word. He tossed his head back, gulped in air. “You’re killing me.”

  He tipped her chin up, a gesture that had become near and dear to him in recent weeks. Her eyes were huge and nearly black.

  “Do you?”

  She said, “I think so.”

  He still breathed raggedly. Still felt rock hard and on the verge of something that was bigger than him and that should scare him but strangely didn’t.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said with brutal honesty. “But we can end this night right here and right now if that’s what you want.” His thumb stroked the side of her jaw. “I would understand.”

  He saw the indecision in her expression, but he also saw the sizzle deep in her hazel eyes, the same electrical dance of fire that played havoc with his skin, leaving the hair standing on end.

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then stay.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He’s going to see you naked.

  So? He obviously doesn’t care.

  But he’s never seen you naked before.

  He was about to, she thought, standing in his arms, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could feel it. The realization made her feel as if she were about to jump off the edge of a building, one fifty stories high. She would get to see him naked, too. And he would do things to her. Naughty things. That she could imagine, as well, because if she were honest with herself, she’d already imagined it on more than one sleepless night. She might have fought the attraction between them, but her subconscious didn’t. Oh, no. It indulged in the sexiest of fantasies and at least one of them, she knew, was about to come true.

  “Look,” he whispered, his breath brushing the shell of her ear. He pointed and she realized that from where she stood, she could see herself in the bathroom mirror. Se
e the both of them. The room was spacious but not dark. The wood floors reflected a golden light that seemed to come from above the vanity, but she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she could see him there. And her. And that it was both strange and exhilarating to be with someone other than Paul.

  “Watch,” he whispered next.

  She tensed when she felt his hands at the back of her dress, where the zipper was. The pads of his fingers brushed her skin. She froze as he slowly, oh so inexorably, separated the metal teeth.

  He’ll see your undergarments. The panty hose that hold you in like a sausage casing. The bra with the padding beneath to help keep your postbirth breasts from sagging. The stretch marks that pregnancy left behind.

  She tried to step away.

  “No, don’t.”

  She said, “But I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  The dress dropped around her ankles. She closed her eyes in shame. He pressed up against the back of her, his hands coming around the front, capturing her breasts, padding and all, and squeezing the tips.

  She threw her head back and moaned.

  One of those hands dropped, lowering to her belly, and once again she felt the stain of shame. You could bounce a quarter off her belly, the panty hose were so tight, but then he slipped a hand beneath them and she thought, maybe they weren’t so tight, and then his fingers found her and she gasped in pleasure.

  He pressed against her and his fingers worked magic. “Do you see?” he asked.

  No. She didn’t see; she only felt. The long length of him against her backside. The heat of him against her skin. The size of him compared to her. And then there was his hand and what his fingers did and she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe because he played her instrument so perfectly.

  “Look,” he ordered, dipping deep.

  She shook her head, moaned again, shuddered. What he did to her... She couldn’t move, much less open her eyes.

  “Look,” he said more sternly, withdrawing his fingers, and she knew it was punishment, and so she opened her eyes. She saw them there, the two of them so close they looked like one. Against the backdrop of the bedroom door they were like phantom figures, barely discernible. But then her eyes adjusted and she could see herself, hair tousled, body flush, his arms cradling her full length.

  “Do you see how beautiful you are?” He dipped his fingers down low again. In the mirror the phantom woman’s eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed with color. Her mouth dropped open. “Do you know how hard it is for me not to toss you on my bed and rip this pretty bra off of you?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  His other hand dipped the edge of her bra down. She saw that. His finger found the tip of her breast, brushing it, teasing it. Her knees grew weak and she began to breathe in short gasps. He worked her flesh into a hard nub, flicking it, at one point almost pinching it, and his other hand, it kept playing her like a maestro.

  “Bren.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered again.

  And something snapped. She tipped her head back, twisted, her lips connecting with him even though it meant she lost the delicious joy his fingers roused. She kissed him and her hand found his center.

  “Lauren,” he gasped.

  She dragged her hand up the length of him and kissed him again. She tore her mouth away to look down at the effect she had on him. She’d had enough of looking. She wanted him to feel, too.

  They ended up on the bed.

  She hadn’t even realized they’d moved. One minute she kissed him and the next he was on top of her, his tie dangling down between her breasts, and she knew this would be no slow, sexy seduction. They were half crazed for each other and that was okay. She jerked his tie off. He pulled her panty hose down. She lifted her hips and helped him. Next his hands found the front snap of her bra and the elastic band sprang open so that she was completely exposed and he reared back and stared for so long that she felt the sting of insecurity.

  “Beautiful.”

  He leaned down and kissed her belly. She groaned and lifted her hips. Lord, she’d forgotten, she thought, tossing her head to the side. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.

  It’d never felt like this with Paul.

  And it hadn’t. This was as different as sugar was from salt. As chocolate was from chalk. As cookies were from cream. His mouth suckled her, and she knew he’d come eye to eye with the worst of her stretch marks, but he didn’t care. He nipped her, his mouth moving lower, and she couldn’t believe he would actually go through with it, that he would kiss her there.

  “Bren,” his name was a scream because he did kiss her there, and she arched to meet him at the same time she cried out his name and her body pulsed and then tightened. He kept teasing the pleasure from her, refusing to let her up when she tried to move, and she felt herself begin to soar.

  “Oh, Bren...”

  He kept at it and she rode air currents in the sky. Down and up and down and down. Her body tightened and tensed and she moaned his name once again. When he nipped at her, she began to spiral, her whole body tumbling from the sky. When she opened her eyes, it was almost a shock to realize she lay on a bed, with Bren watching her.

  “I’ve never...”

  She didn’t know what else to say and he didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t finish the sentence, because he tenderly kissed the insides of her thighs. She felt him shift and he began to move upward, nuzzling the point of her hip next, and she felt it again, the sexual rush of pleasure that made all her nerve endings tingle. He moved up the length of her and she realized he’d shrugged out of his pants. He still wore his shirt, though, and so she worked the buttons free because she wanted him against her, naked.

  His gaze met her own, his brown eyes the same color as a grass fire. “I don’t have protection.”

  “It’s okay,” she said because it was. If he’d had condoms at his fingertips, that would have said something about him that she wouldn’t have liked. “I’m on the pill.”

  And in case he doubted her word, she hooked her legs behind him, drawing him up toward her. By now he’d stripped his pants completely off and she felt the bare deliciousness of his thighs and the smoothness of his skin even though his leg hair was more wiry than her own, but his flesh...it was so warm she gasped.

  “Lauren.”

  Their hands found each other’s and he paused at her center. Was he savoring it, too? Did he want it to last forever like she did? She lifted her hips. He entered her slowly and she began to soar once more, but it was a different sort of throbbing this time, the kind that soothed an ache she hadn’t even known she’d had. He pushed her deep into the bed and their fingers entwined and she held on for dear life because she’d never had a man kiss her the way Bren did. It was as if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted to swallow her whole. As if she were his last meal, and all the while he thrust in and out and in and out...

  “Bren,” she gasped against his lips as she flew once more.

  Her hands ended up above her head. Her heels hooked around him. They both began to fly together. Two birds circling each other in the sky, spiraling up and down and around, until, as one, they reached the apex of the sky, where they began to tumble toward earth...together.

  * * *

  A WHILE LATER—was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? Bren didn’t know, but a while later he pulled the covers up and tucked her against him and held her close.

  “You’re going to be sore tomorrow.” She felt good up against him. Like an ornate spoon that fit next to him perfectly in a drawer. “I tried to take it easy on you, but I can’t seem to control myself.”

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled.

  “Don’t you go to sleep on me now.” He nuzzled her hair. “I have more Valentine’s fun in st
ore for you.”

  She shot up suddenly. “Kyle.”

  “Hey.” He pulled her back around, brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “It’s okay. He’ll survive a night without you.”

  Her eyes were big and wide. “We’ve never spent a night apart.”

  That he couldn’t believe. “Not even for a slumber party?”

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t sleep over at anyone’s house. He gets nightmares.”

  He saw the truth in her eyes, and the truth told him that Kyle hadn’t been as unaffected by her marriage as he’d thought. He might have been young when Paul had died, but he’d clearly been old enough.

  “He’s not at just anyone’s house. He’s at his uncle’s place.”

  “He’ll still freak out.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Then call him.”

  His words didn’t have the calming effect he’d hoped. “Call him and tell him I’m spending the night with you?”

  “Well—”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Yes, she could. Or maybe not. Damn it. Dating a woman with a kid was more complicated than he’d figured.

  “Do you need me to drive you home?”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  He cupped her face with his hands, and, yes, it was very definitely becoming a habit. “Sooner or later he’s going to have to sleep without you around.”

  “What do you mean?”

  But she pulled away and it stunned him how much he didn’t like her doing that. He wanted to hold her. To reassure her. Instead his hands fell back to his sides.

  “You graduate this year, yes?”

  She nodded, and she could have no way of knowing how adorable he found her sitting there above him, her hair falling around her shoulder, her makeup slightly smudged around her eyes, her lips swollen from his kisses.

  “You know how demanding that will be. Crazy-long days. Working nights. Coming home at odd hours.”

  He knew he’d struck a nerve, and even though he probably shouldn’t have lascivious thoughts when they were discussing something so serious, he couldn’t help but notice how completely sexy she looked staring down at him like a tousled kitten.