“Couple times.” He took another bite and grunted. Then took another. “I studied history in college, before taking over the family ranch. It made sense to visit the cradle of civilization. Went to Greece too.”
Her mouth watered. She’d always wanted to go there as well. “So…why does a cowboy study history?” She just couldn’t help asking. That fact was so at odds with her assumptions about his…type.
He snorted a laugh. “Because it interests me, Delilah,” he said her name like a caress.
Her heart ker-chunked. “Do you…happen to like opera?” She held her breath as she waited for his response. Please say no. Please say no.
“God no.”
Relief gushed through her.
“Except the arias.” Hell. “Pearl Fishers is my favorite.”
Oh. Hell.
“Me too.” A peep.
He smiled at her, and she felt her resistance utterly drain away. Sure, he was a cowpoke, but he was a gentleman and a scholar. He liked to travel. He loved The Pearl Fishers.
And he smelled divine, something spicy and woodsy. Something essentially male.
Oh. She was in trouble.
He pushed back from the table with a sigh. “Wow.” He chuckled. “Just wow. Best meal I’ve had in a long time. But…”
“But what?” She didn’t mean to lean forward as she said this, but she had no power to withstand his charm. Not anymore.
His gaze warmed. “But…it was probably the company.”
Her pulse surged.
“I just can’t stop thinking about that kiss, Delilah. Please tell me it was phenomenal for you as well.”
She should end this now. Just say no. Just open her mouth and say—
“Yes.”
Awareness hummed between them; their gazes locked across the table.
“I’d like to kiss you again. But not a little kiss. And not just one.” His intent scorched her. “May I?”
“Yes.”
A whisper, but he heard her. His nostrils flared. “Come here.”
Trembling, she stood and rounded the table. He met her halfway. Without hesitation, without pretense or pointless chatter or unnecessary seduction, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. He kissed her as though he’d been thinking about it all afternoon. As though those thoughts had deserted him, and he was left with nothing but raw simmering lust.
His kiss enflamed her, and she responded with equal fervor, pressing against him and clutching him, palming his nape and scoring his scalp with her nails in a desperate attempt to get closer. He slanted his mouth over hers, and responded in kind. Then his lips traveled over her cheek, her chin. He nested in the crook of her neck. He found a spot, the spot that lit a flame in her belly.
She groaned as he nibbled, nipped.
He pressed her back onto the table, unmindful of the clink of glasses, the clatter of silver and china as it tumbled to the floor.
“God, Delilah,” he groaned as he found her breasts. “I want you so bad.” He fumbled with the buttons of her blouse.
An agony of want raked through her as his knuckles scraped over her hard nipples. She gasped and arched her hips against his.
His cock was hard and thick. His need unmistakable.
He made a growling sound in his throat, practically yanked off her bra and encased the swollen tips of her breasts in the warm cavern of his mouth. Suckled.
Shards of delight shot through her.
“Do you like this? Do you?” He nipped one bud then the other.
She opened her thighs to him, cradling his lean hips between her legs, locked her ankles around his waist, and pulled him closer. “Do it again.”
He did. As he tormented her, back and forth, his hand skimmed up her bare leg to the juncture of her thighs. Nudged her clit.
A teasing touch. A featherlight whisper. But she felt it. She felt it to her core. A sizzling bolt of electrical lust. A shudder, a precursor, passed through her.
Inflamed, she reached for the band of his jeans. “Off,” she snarled, a guttural command.
He kicked his way out of his jeans, frantically toeing off his boots. Her heart surged at the sight of the rigid wedge arching up his belly. Her pussy clenched when she noticed the damp spot at the tip, soaking through the cotton.
Desperation racked her. She had to see him. Tugged at his briefs. “Off. Take them off.”
His magnificent cock sprang free. Impatient. Ready. She wanted to taste him, but there was no time for that. She needed him. Now. She yanked off her panties and leaned back on the table and spread her legs. “In me.”
He stilled and stared at her, his eyes burning fire, Adam’s apple working in his beautiful thick throat. “Oh, fuck, yeah,” he mumbled, fumbling for the condom in his wallet, not taking his avid gaze from her splayed body. He tore the foil package open and slipped on the condom, and then held her in place as he slid inside her.
Delight—absolute fucking delight—scored her as he burrowed his way through her slick, swollen folds, stretching her. Filling her. Completely.
He hissed as he sank deeper, shuddered as he kissed her womb. “God, Delilah. You are so tight. So…good.”
She whimpered when he eased out, but he quickly reversed direction and filled her again. “Yeah, baby. Fuck me.”
His breath stalled at her command. His fingers tightened on her flesh, holding her steady on the rocking table so he could pummel her with pleasure.
Like a wild man, he plunged in, again and again. From this angle and that, in a wild frenzy that fed hers. Each rabid thrust, every savage plunge drove her higher and higher and higher until she didn’t think she could bear the anguish.
And then he found it—that magical bundle of raw nerves that made her quiver and shake. His pace slowed. His angle shifted. Holding her frantic gaze, he massaged her, tormented her, stroking, rubbing, nudging at her sanity.
“Landon.” A desperate plea. A whisper. A command.
“What do you want Delilah? Tell me what you need, baby.”
“More. More. More.” She couldn’t manage another word. Another thought.
He stilled inside her, buried in her, his cock thrumming with every beat of his heart. She tried to twitch her hips, make him move again, but he held her still. Impaling her. Dominating her. “Oh,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble. “You want more?”
“Yes!”
“Do you like it rough? Tell me, darlin’.”
“Yes.”
His eyes glinted. Still he didn’t move. Desperation clawed her. She was close. So close…“Landon!”
“Say please.”
His expression, his tone, the very timbre of his words and what they represented sang to her. Something inside her melted, burst into flame. A shudder took her. And then another. She licked her lips.
He tracked the path of her tongue. The muscles on his neck stood out from the strain. The agony on his face was clear. “Say it,” he hissed.
She couldn’t resist. Couldn’t hesitate or pretend. This was raw. This was bare. This was feral hunger. “Please.”
His breath gushed out, hard and hot. Relief. And he took her, fucked her, possessed her. Like a savage he ravaged her, pounding into her quim again and again, shifting directions, thrusting here and there, plucking at her nipples and thrumming her clit as he played out a delicious operetta on her body. Her soul soared toward heaven. Reaching, clawing for it. So close. So close. So…
And then his tenor changed. The muscles of his beautiful face tightened. His strokes became shorter, harder, more frantic.
She was right there with him.
He stared at her, his eyes wild, his expression intent. He increased his thrusts. Something inside her curled, constricted. The pressure became exquisite, unbearable.
And then she broke. Rapture descended. She came in a glorious rain.
His body lurched as he found his release as well. His soul-deep moan, which sounded very much like her name, warbled through the room.
They
collapsed in each other’s arms.
On the table.
Amidst the remains of dinner.
After they recovered, Landon gathered her up and carried her to the couch and simply held her. When she met his gaze, he thumbed away a stray tear and smiled. “That was amazing.”
It had been. He’d been so patient and thoughtful. He’d made sure she came before he finished.
He cleared his throat. “I, um…I’d really like to do that again sometime.” He stroked her hair. “Would you?”
“Yes.” Oh. Yes. The hell with her trepidation about cowboys. To hell with all the jerks of the past who’d tried so hard to ruin her faith. This guy was a keeper. No matter the risks.
“Excellent.” He kissed her. “Oh, and Delilah?”
“Yes Landon?”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Angie what we did on her dining room table. Okay? She’d kill me.”
Delilah laughed and drew him down for another kiss. “Hmm. What will you do in exchange for my silence, cowboy?”
He grinned. Glorious dimples dented his cheeks. “I’m sure I can think of something…”
And he did.
Heaven help her, he did.
SHALL WE DANCE?
Myla Jackson
Sadie Lushbaum checked her odometer again before turning onto the gravel drive and passing beneath the arched rock and cedar gate with the words FLYING M RANCH seared into the wood. The M had to stand for McAllister. She had to be in the right place. The directions had indicated fifteen miles outside of Hole in the Wall. The sun still burned bright, beginning its slow descent to the western horizon.
“This is your chance,” Audrey had assured her. “He’s willing to pay you as much as you make in the entire month for one night. One lousy night. I’d do it myself, but he broke my toe at his last lesson at the Ugly Stick Saloon. If I thought I’d be of any assistance, I’d drag my ass to his place and turn cartwheels all night. The man’s desperate. He promised a woman he’d dance with her at a wedding tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Sadie had asked. “He broke your toe at your last lesson, and you expect me to teach him how to waltz by tomorrow?”
“Honey, if you don’t do it, any one of the other girls at the saloon would give their left breast to take the job. You saw him. Joe McAllister might have two left feet, but he’s six feet six inches of gotta-love-me-some-smokin’-hot cowboy. I’m offering it to you because number one, you need the cash more than any of the others, and two, you have the patience of a saint. And I believe it might take a miracle to get him dance-worthy by tomorrow.”
Sadie’s heart warmed. That Audrey had that much faith in her ability to teach a hopeless man to dance said a lot. And to think, six months ago, Sadie had been resigned to the fact she’d never dance again. Funny how it took a divorce, losing her job and being flat broke to shake her out of the giant rut she’d lived in for the past ten years and get her finally chasing some of her own dreams.
“Oh, and Sadie…he’s a widower.”
Sadie frowned. “This isn’t an attempt at matchmaking, is it? I don’t need a man in my life. If you recall, the last one wasn’t so great.”
Audrey shrugged, a secretive smile playing on her lips. “Just sayin’. Not all men are cut out of the same cloth. You might get to give the vibrator a rest.”
Audrey’s words echoed in Sadie’s head as she wound along the driveway beneath gnarled oak trees, emerging into the open at the base of a low hill. Perched at the top of the rise was a beautiful white limestone and cedar ranch house with a wide, shaded porch surrounding the two-story structure.
She parked and climbed out, straightening the sweeping fabric of the calf-length dress that swirled around her body when she danced. Her knees shook, and her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs. Audrey had been right. Every girl who worked at the Ugly Stick had drooled over the handsome cowboy with the sexy smile and faded jeans. Sadie had been no different. She’d watched him throughout his first painful couple of lessons and cringed when his big boot crunched down on Audrey’s poor toe.
After the ill-fated lesson, Sadie had gone home to her vibrator, imagining it to be Joe sliding his cock across her skin and teasing her clit into a mind-melting orgasm. A frustrating night and day later, here she was pulling up to his house. Holy shit, how was she going to look him in the eye after having imaginary sex with him, not once, but five times?
Sadie almost turned back, but she needed money for rent, and all she had in her refrigerator was a quart of sour milk and a hunk of moldy cheese. It was teach this man to dance or go home horny and hungry. The man had to know how to waltz to impress a woman tomorrow. Sadie couldn’t let him down, nor could she jump his bones. That would be wrong, wouldn’t it? The man wasn’t learning to dance to impress her.
She mounted the steps to the door. With her hand raised to knock, she paused, fighting a panic attack.
Before she could run, the door swung open and a man called out. “Joe, get your clothes on, you’ve got company!” The man pushed the screen open for her. “Hi, I’m Sam, and I’d sure love to stay and watch, but I have to go milk a bull.” Over his shoulder he yelled, “See ya tomorrow! And get it right this time, Joe. Mandy’s countin’ on you.”
Sadie stepped into the cool interior of the home, wowed by the two-story, cathedral ceilings with thick cedar beams and a stone fireplace stretching from floor to ceiling on one whole wall.
“Is it the dance instructor?” Joe stepped through a doorway, wearing nothing but jeans, unbuttoned at the top. A towel draped over his head, and droplets of water glistened over his broad, muscular chest. Flinging the towel back he looked up. “Oh, you’re here.”
Sadie pressed a hand to her chest, her mouth suddenly dry and her pulse racing. Wow.
Joe glanced down at his naked chest, his cheeks flushing. “Sorry, I just got in from taking care of the horses and didn’t want to smell like one.” He looked up and winked.
Wow. Sadie managed to stay upright on rubbery legs.
“Sadie, isn’t it?” His voice washed over her like warm wet sand, oozing into every pore.
She nodded.
He backed away. “I’ll slip into a shirt, and we can get started.”
“Don’t get dressed on my account,” she said in a gravelly whisper.
His smile broadened. “Just a shirt then. I’m not wearing my boots tonight. Hopefully you won’t limp away with a broken toe.” Joe disappeared and was back a moment later, his dark hair finger-combed back from his forehead. He pulled a chambray shirt over his shoulders and left the buttons loose.
Sadie feasted her gaze on his chiseled chest, her pussy tightening. When she realized she’d been staring, she dipped her head and pulled her music player and mini-portable speakers from her purse. “Shall—” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she started again. “Shall we get started?”
He held out his hands. “I’m all yours. Teach me.”
Oh, boy. For the first time since her divorce, Sadie had the wild and uncontrollable urge to throw herself at a man and beg him to make love to her. Barefoot and wearing his shirt untucked and unbuttoned down to his navel, he was the most gorgeous cowboy she’d met.
Sadie fumbled to untangle the electrical cord from the speaker wires, wondering how she’d get through this session without bursting into an orgasmic flame. “Audrey said you need to waltz at an event tomorrow.”
“That’s right.” Big hands closed around hers, sending waves of lust shooting to her core. “Let me.” He removed the items from her hands, untangled them with swift efficiency and plugged them in. Then he stood back, tucking his thumbs into his back pockets. “I’m going for a beer, would you care for one, or a glass of wine?”
“A beer would be nice.” And maybe it would settle her nerves and make it easier to assume the role of teacher to this student. A thrill of challenge and something else slipped beneath her skin and rippled all the way through her body, pooling at her center.
Sadie flipped
through the music, settling on a smooth, easy waltz, turning it up loud enough to be heard, but not so loud they couldn’t talk over it. Then she wandered across the living room to the kitchen, the rooms separated by a wide granite bar with stools lining the front.
Joe grabbed two longnecks from the refrigerator, twisted off the tops and set one on the bar. “Here’s to teaching this old dog new tricks.” He lifted his bottle and downed a third of it before he set it down.
Sadie tipped hers back and swallowed an equal portion, determined to shake off the edge. “You’re not old.”
“Going on forty-two.” He rounded the counter and stood in front of her. “And you’re what, twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven?” His finger rose to touch her cheek.
“Thirty-four.” Sadie blushed. “But thanks.”
“Good. I’d hate for my teacher to be young enough to be my daughter.” His face grew serious. “It’s real important to me to learn this dance. It’s a surprise for tomorrow.”
“Why did you wait so long for lessons?”
“Wish I could say I was too busy herdin’ cows, bailin’ hay and muckin’ stalls.” He shrugged. “Truth is, I haven’t danced since my wife died.”
“Oh?” Sadie swallowed hard. “You must have loved her very much.”
“I did.” He gave her a gentle smile.
Sadie’s chest squeezed, and she glanced at her feet. What did she say to that?
“Life has a way of marchin’ on.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “That’s where you come in.”
Her heart fluttering, Sadie gulped. “Me?”
Joe straightened his shoulders. “As part of moving on, I promised myself that I’d learn to waltz for someone special. Problem is, I’ve got two left feet.”
The other problem was that Sadie lusted after a man who wanted to impress another woman. Even if she wanted another man in her life, that ruled out this particular cowboy.
Sadie dug deep for the strength to teach. With a forced smile, she kicked off her shoes. “Then let’s make this easy.” She lifted her beer. “Finish up. It might help you be more receptive to the beat.”
Cowboy Heat Page 18
