Wild Wyoming Nights

by Joanne Rock

  Carson followed her gaze. “We won’t make it back to the main house before the skies open up. But my brother’s place is just over that ridge.” He remembered how eager Brock had been to escape the filmmaking for the weekend. Picking up the bay mare’s reins, Carson swung up on her back. “You can ride with me.”

  He held out a hand to her, fat raindrops beginning to fall.

  “Are you sure?” She chewed her lip nervously.

  “Hurry,” he urged, feeling the horse’s agitation. He nudged the stirrup forward with his boot. “Use the stirrup.”

  Emma stepped up and he shifted forward in the saddle, giving her room behind him so he could keep better control of the mare. By the time Emma was settled, her arms around his waist, the rain had let loose.

  The bay needed no urging. At Carson’s command, the quarter horse took off, hooves pounding, long legs stretching out into a gallop. Carson leaned forward and Emma did the same, her cheek and chest warm against his back while the downpour turned cold.

  The path to Brock’s place was well-worn. He’d recently completed his house after years of picking away at it in his free time. It sat right on the Black Creek, the center point between his brothers’ ranches, so he had easy access to both without having to commit to either. When Brock had lobbied for this slice of land from their father, Carson never imagined his quiet, almost taciturn younger brother would build something so damn beautiful with his own two hands.

  The bay would have headed for the stables if not for Carson tugging her toward the house. He wanted to drop off Emma under the cover of a deep vaulted porch first. Once she was under the shelter of the overhang, he took the bay into the stables, grateful to find a ranch hand at work. The younger man seemed pleased to escape the job of stall mucking for a little while to brush out the bay, allowing Carson to sprint back to where Emma waited. Her wet clothes clung to curves that had him aching to touch her again.

  He entered the last code he remembered for the front door. It wasn’t armed with a security system, but Brock had used a keyless entry. Thankfully, the lock gave and the handle turned.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Emma gasped as they stepped inside, dripping water all over the mat.

  “I’ll get us some towels.” Toeing off his boots and removing his hat, Carson padded across the tile floor through the kitchen to the laundry room. A stack of folded white towels sat in a basket on the dryer.

  When he returned to the foyer, Emma had her running sneakers off. Rivulets still streamed down her bare shoulders from her wet hair, her cotton workout clothes shrink-wrapping her body in a way that made him forget all about the chill from the rain.

  “Thank goodness,” she said again. Her teeth were chattering as she reached for a towel. “I can’t believe how cold the rain felt.”

  “When the weather comes down off the mountains it’s like that.” He tore his eyes away from her, knowing he needed to back off after what she’d said about rushing into things.

  But then a good idea occurred to him as he patted his own towel over his face.

  “Come with me.” He took her hand, leading her into the living room.

  “I’m all wet,” she protested. “We’re leaving footprints everywhere.”

  When he reached the doors to the deck, he pointed to the sunken tub tucked under another vaulted porch. Steam escaped the leather cover in every direction. His brother must have the heater on a timer.

  Bless him.

  “Since we’re wet already, we could always warm up in there.” He pointed to the hot tub, but Emma was already darting past him to get outside.

  * * *

  She’d given zero consideration to what she was wearing, not caring if the shorts and tank went in the hot tub since she was drenched already.

  And chilled.

  So when Carson lifted half of the leather cover from the tub, which emitting a cloud of steam over her, she simply stepped down into the bubbles. She found a molded seat in one corner and dropped into it so the hot water reached her neck.

  “This feels amazing.” Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the neck pillow as her body thawed.

  The tub was recessed under the overhang of the vaulted porch so the rain didn’t reach them, but she could see out over the landscaped yard to the wide creek that rushed past the house. River stone lined the bank of the creek and it had been used generously around the house, too. The bottom half of the house was stone—or at least faced with the gray rock—while the upper portion was natural wood. It was both rustic and luxurious, with deep porches to enjoy the incredible Wyoming vistas.

  She pulled in a breath, her body relaxing as she warmed up, and glanced over at Carson.

  And promptly swallowed her tongue.

  He, apparently, had no intention of getting into the tub with his clothes on. His jeans long gone, he stood on the deck in fitted black boxer shorts that hugged his muscular thighs. He hauled his wet T-shirt up and off, flinging it to the planked floor before he stepped down into the tub alongside her.

  She didn’t blink, unwilling to miss a moment of Carson McNeill. The night before had been so heated and, thanks to her, too rushed. She hadn’t really gotten to enjoy seeing him like this—unfiltered and utterly masculine in the light of day.

  As he sank into the seat next to her—close to her, so his body grazed hers at her elbow and knee—she felt a wave of hot desire that had nothing to do with the temperature of the tub.

  Hadn’t she thought to herself last night that she should take advantage of this week? This time with him that was a surreal pleasure she’d never be able to replicate?

  “Are—um—we alone?” Her voice was too husky with want to sound as cool and casual as she would have liked.

  No doubt he guessed what she was really wondering.

  He turned blue eyes on her, an answering desire evident there.

  “There’s a ranch hand in the stables, but the house is very much empty.” His focus dipped to her mouth and hunger for him swelled.

  “Whose house is this?” She licked her lips, remembering his kiss and how it felt. How he tasted.

  “My brother Brock lives here, but I texted with him this morning and he was still in Bakersfield, California, where he plans to spend the night.”

  “Does he have a maid?” Emma knew her mother had walked in on people in compromising situations during her years in service to the Ventura family. She wouldn’t want to make things awkward for Carson by being careless. “Or domestic staff?”

  Just outside the deep overhang of the porch roofline, the rain pounded harder, torrents of water falling in sheets.

  “Brock cares more about his horses than anything else, so he only hires help for them. He doesn’t have anyone for the house.” Carson angled toward her, his shoulders rising above the water line. “We are absolutely, one hundred percent alone.”

  Her belly flipped. The possibility of being with him again became real. A breath-stealing proposition.

  Steam rose from his skin, framing all that taut muscle in soft focus. She ran a hand over his upper arm to feel his tantalizing strength. He sucked in a breath. A deep thrill coursed through her to know she affected him that way.

  “How fortunate,” she murmured, tracing a droplet of water with her finger as it slid from his shoulder down his chest.

  She thought about licking the next one. Chasing a drop with her tongue.

  “Is it?” He studied her, his expression guarded. “Last night, I got the idea you weren’t ready to spend more time alone with me.”

  She smoothed her palm on his skin, flattening it against him. She wanted to press all the rest of herself to him just that same way.

  “I’ve since reconsidered.” She ventured forward, needing to close the distance between them, wanting to show him she was thoroughly invested in this. In him. “I’m living in the moment from now on.
No more borrowing trouble. No more fearing what tomorrow brings.”

  When her lips hovered near his, she breathed him in, anticipating what was to come. She took her time in a way she hadn’t last night.

  She kissed him, knowing that he was letting her make the first move because of how she’d retreated the day before. And she appreciated that. Respected the kind of man who did things that way.

  At first, she was the one who gave the kiss. It was a tentative brush of exploration. A makeup kiss for the way she’d pulled back the day before.

  But Carson had another kind of kiss in mind. He lifted a hand to her cheek, tilted her face and angled his jaw. Just like that, the contact went from tentative to provocative.

  Sweet to sensual.

  Flames streaked through her. It was as if they’d never touched before, as if it was all new. Longing and need swirled between them. Carson shifted closer, one thigh settling between hers, fanning the fire. Making her restless with want.

  She wished she wasn’t wearing her running shorts. That she could press against him and he could be inside her already.

  Now.

  But he just kissed her. Exploring her thoroughly, making her feel like she’d never been kissed until now. Until this. The sensation made her all the more desperate to make this moment with him count. To soak in the feel of him, the taste and scent and magic of what they did to one another.

  Then he pulled back and she felt dazed. Unfocused.

  “Come on.” He took her hand, tugging her upward.

  She followed blindly, water sluicing off their bodies as they stepped out into the cool, storm-laden air. He didn’t lead her toward the main house, however. Instead, he headed to a small wooden shed she hadn’t noticed off to one side of the deck. There were no windows on the building, and as Carson pulled open the door, steam wafted out along with dull red light.

  A sauna.

  She followed him inside, and he closed the door and locked it behind them. Her heartbeat went wild. He stepped toward her, casting a strong, impressive shadow in the dim room. To hell with the possibility of regrets. She needed him. Now.

  Before he could take a second step, she flung herself into his arms.

  Eleven

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d slept with Emma, but it felt like they’d been apart for a lifetime.

  He tossed his jeans on a bench before he hauled her closer, lifting her up in his arms to take her mouth with his. Over and over again. The hunger for her hadn’t been sated yesterday. If anything, last night had stirred a deeper longing unlike anything he’d ever felt. He speared a hand into her damp hair, losing himself in the slick mating of mouths.

  The dry heat of the sauna turned steamy from their bodies and wet clothes. Clothes he needed gone. He peeled her shirt away, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug the clinging sports fabric up and off. It left her breasts bared and impossible to resist, the rosy peaks tightening under his tongue as he tasted each one.

  He toed open an insulated box under one bench seat and bent to retrieve fresh towels from the storage bin, tossing them on one wide bench beside the sopping jeans he’d brought with him since there was a condom in one pocket.

  Her hands were already busy gliding down his back, smoothing over his hips, reaching beneath his boxers to stroke him. He bit off an oath, teeth grinding at the need for restraint. It was worth it, though, when she glanced up at him with her wide dark eyes full of surprise at what she did to him so damned effortlessly.

  He peeled off her shorts and panties and she dragged his boxers down. He fumbled for the jeans’ pocket on the bench behind him, but before he’d found it, she was wrapping her calf around his, bringing all that sweet feminine warmth closer to where he wanted her. Needed her.

  Dropping to sit on the bench, he found the condom as she straddled him, her legs sliding around his waist in a way that pushed him to the brink. And he wasn’t even inside her yet.

  Emma took the foil packet from him, tearing it open and rolling the condom into place.

  Then, finally, he was thrusting deep inside her.

  At last.

  His forehead tipped to hers as he guided her hips, steadied her on top of him. The perfection of the moment, of her, slammed home, making him want to hold on to this for as long as he could. When he moved inside her, her moan echoed his, reminding him he wasn’t alone in this. She was right there with him, feeling all the pleasure in this union that he did, going through every breathless sensation.

  He didn’t want to ever let her go.

  The thought hit with all the force of a release, but it was hers that came first, sending her body into one lush spasm after another. Seeing her that way, unguarded and undone, made him forget everything else. He could only hold on to her hips and steady himself as she moved. When he followed her a moment later, finding a level of completion he hadn’t experienced with anyone else, Carson hugged her tightly. His arms around her neck, her legs around his waist, they clung to each other like there was nothing else in the world. And they stayed like that long afterward.

  But as their breathing finally slowed and awareness returned, Carson knew he was playing with fire to keep seeing Emma. To be with her this way and want more.

  Closing his eyes, he allowed his head to rest on the wall behind him, thinking it would be easier if he didn’t care so much. For years, he’d had easy relationships because they were safe. Neat.

  No one got hurt.

  His sister Maisie hadn’t been all that wrong when she’d told him he only dated people he wouldn’t fall for. People he wouldn’t marry. Losing his mother as a kid would have been difficult enough, but watching helplessly as she was trampled by a bull had provided enough loss and heartbreak for a lifetime. Carson wasn’t against relationships. Just the deep, profound ones that could level maximum damage.

  Being the reckless twin had served him well in that regard, keeping people at arm’s length.

  Yet now, with the most desirable, fascinating woman he’d ever met raining lazy kisses along his shoulder, Carson recognized he was in danger of getting too close. Caring too deeply.

  Worse? Maybe he already did.

  * * *

  An hour later, Emma dressed in her freshly dried clothes in a downstairs bathroom at Brock McNeill’s house.

  Carson had run their things on a high heat cycle to dry quickly after their time in the sauna. He had been thoughtful, laying out deli meats, cheeses and fresh bread for sandwiches while they waited for the laundry to finish. He’d entertained her with stories about his absent brother, recalling some tales from their bull riding days before Brock had left the sport.

  But something about Carson’s manner seemed...off.

  Not distant, really. She couldn’t call him that since he’d been perfectly charming. Yet she sensed a new barrier between them that hadn’t been there before. Like he’d been the one to pull away this time, only he did a much better job of disguising it than she had last night.

  Or was she looking for trouble where there was none?

  “Ready?” Carson asked as she emerged from the bathroom. He was already dressed, his still-damp hat in hand. “I went out to the stables to get a horse saddled for you, too.”

  He pointed to the huge windows at the front of the house, where she could see his bay mare next to a smaller roan. It had stopped raining outside, but the skies remained gray, the heavy clouds still low in the sky.

  “Thank you.” She slid her hair band off her wrist to tie her hair back. “Although I have to admit, I didn’t mind riding double on our way here.”

  It had been downright sexy, actually.

  She saw a flare of heat in his eyes at the shared memory, but then it was gone again, his expression shifting to an easy smile as he opened the front door for her.

  “That makes two of us.” He palmed her back, gu
iding her ahead of him outside so they could mount.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  Determined to confront him about it, to get it out in the open, she turned toward him.

  Only to find Carson several steps behind her, his gaze glued to his phone. He stood frozen in place.

  “Carson?” Her thoughts shifted away from her worries, knowing he had a lot on his mind right now. “Is it your stepmom? Is everything okay?”

  He looked up at her slowly, his blue gaze not quite focused.

  “Paige got a letter from the blackmailer today, demanding five million to be deposited to an off-shore account.” He gripped his phone tight, his knuckles white.

  Her stomach knotted. She couldn’t even imagine what he must be feeling.

  “Carson, I’m so sorry.” She moved to his side to offer whatever comfort she could, but he was rigid as stone when she touched him.

  “I need to be with my family.” He shoved his hat on his head and pocketed his phone. “I need to get home.”

  “I’ll go with you.” She wanted to be there for him the way he’d helped her this week. She had her own bodyguard and a top-of-the-line security system protecting her from her ex-boyfriend, thanks to Carson.

  She wasn’t even certain that he’d heard her as he headed for his horse and put a foot in his stirrup, but she understood he must be reeling from the news.

  She followed suit, moving toward the roan.

  Behind her, Carson cursed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking.” He appeared at her side, giving her a boost onto the back of the mount, even though he must know she didn’t really require a hand. His deeply engrained manners were automatic, even when he was this upset. “If you ride to my father’s house with me, I’ll let Dax know where you are so he can see you safely back to the Creek Spill.”