Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2)

by Savanna Fox

  “Aha. She and I have one thing in common. Could we make it lunch, not dinner?” Lunch seemed more casual, less stressful.

  “Today or tomorrow?”

  “Today?” Then it would be over and she wouldn’t worry about it.

  He opened his cell and made a quick call, then reported back. “She’s delighted.”

  “I bet.”

  “We’ll head down around one. And now, I’ve set up some practice time with Sand. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” Watching her hot cowboy on his horse sounded like a fine way to spend a morning.

  “Take your bag in, make yourself comfortable. If you want to watch, feel free.”

  “You bet I do.” She collected another toe-curling kiss, then took her bag inside. She used the downstairs powder room to take off the wingy blouse she wore over a hot pink tank top and olive capris, and apply sunscreen. Armed with a big sketch pad and charcoals, she went back outside.

  Ty was in the ring on Desert Sand, swinging a coiled rope as the horse ran in an easy long-legged stride. A dark brown horse was tied to the hitching rail and a stocky older man in western wear herded half a dozen calves into a small pen. Kim was starting to make sense of the layout of the various fenced areas. One was the paddock where the horses were turned out to run and graze. The fenced ring was Ty’s practice ring, and the small pen was a holding area.

  Ty called, “Hey, Kim. Say hi to Dusty, one of the best bull riders you’ll ever meet.”

  “Probably the only one. It’s nice to meet you, Dusty.”

  “Likewise, ma’am,” he drawled, tipping his hat. “You can perch up there.” He indicated the top rail of the fence.

  She accepted the invitation as the two men carried on, the sparseness of their motions and speech indicating the familiarity of this routine. They were setting up to simulate what happened at the rodeo. When everything was ready, Dusty released a calf. Ty and Desert Sand shot after it, Ty roped it, then he leaped down to toss and tie it. A few seconds later he set it free, and herded it back to Dusty. Then they did it again with a different calf.

  Kim balanced her sketch pad on her knees as her charcoal flew across the page, capturing action and impressions.

  Ty had been compelling at the rodeo, with other cowboys around and an audience cheering, but this was fascinating. One cowboy and one horse, working with a single assistant—an assistant who, in comparison to Ty’s natural grace, hobbled slowly. Though the two men did the same basic thing every time, each calf behaved differently, challenging Ty. The constant was the teamwork and communication between rider and horse. It was a thing of beauty in its way.

  It was also sexy as hell: the horse’s powerful muscles, Ty’s agile body, his curse when something went wrong, the white flash of smile at a perfect run. No other man she’d ever met would be capable of doing something like this.

  If that was all Ty had been, just a handsome, skilled cowboy, that would be sexy enough. The fact that he also ran a successful, diverse enterprise like Ronan Ranch, that in his own way he was as successful a businessperson as her parents, made him even more impressive. A responsible guy who set a course and succeeded was sexy. Top that off with the knowledge that he was a skilled, inventive lover—her lover . . . Oh, let’s face it, sitting on that top rail watching him, sketching him, thinking about his many charms, was a delicious torture.

  It also made her seriously crave the chance to draw him nude. After they’d had sex. Otherwise, she’d never be able to concentrate. If seeing him practicing in the ring made her squirm with desire, she could only imagine how turned on she’d be if she drew him naked.

  After ten or twelve runs, Ty called a halt to the practice. “Thanks, Dusty, that was great.”

  “You and Sand are looking good,” the older man said. “Oh, Ty, Marge says don’t forget you’re coming for dinner Monday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Ty went into the barn with his horse, and Kim smiled at the stocky assistant. “That was fascinating, Dusty. I’m a total newbie when it comes to rodeo. You were a bull rider?”

  “Yes ma’am. Damn fool thing to do.” One corner of his mouth tilted. “But I wouldn’t trade one day. Except that last one. Bull rolled on me, broke my back. They said I was damned lucky to live, much less ever walk again.”

  Now she understood why he hobbled so slowly and awkwardly. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” And so glad Ty didn’t ride bulls. Not that one of those bucking broncs couldn’t do the same thing to a man.

  He shrugged. “The risk is part of the life. Anyhow, I did get on my feet again, enough to work in a feed store. Then three years ago I saw Ty’s ad about needing folks to work at Ronan Ranch.”

  “And he hired you.” A happy ending to a sad tale.

  This time both corners of his mouth tilted, and his denim blue eyes lit. “Damn fool thing to do,” he said for the second time. “But rodeo cowboys are family. We look out for each other.”

  “Looks as if you’re pulling your weight,” she pointed out.

  “Took a while. And only thanks to him and his parents giving me the time, the help.” He paused, swallowed. “The hope.”

  She remembered what Ty’d said that first night. A ranch on the way to Hope. When she commented about the name being symbolic, he said it was a second chance for Ronan Ranch and for his family. For Dusty too, it seemed, and his wife, who no doubt preferred seeing her man active and happy. Also for those disadvantaged kids Ty helped. Unexpectedly, she, who wasn’t the emotional type, found her eyes misting. “I’m glad for you. And I can see how much you’re helping Ty.”

  “Hope so. They’re good people, the Ronans.”

  “I believe you.”

  With painful slowness, he clambered onto his dark brown horse. Then he herded the calves out of the holding pen and down the road. Kim did a quick sketch, thinking that the man would fit just fine on Dirk Zamora’s cattle drive in Ride Her, Cowboy. Dirk, like Ty, would give Dusty a chance.

  “Kim,” Ty called, and she turned to see him at the barn door. “I need to shower off the dust and sweat before lunch. Care to join me?”

  Oh, yes! She clambered off the fence. “Is there time?”

  As she joined him, he looped an arm around her shoulders. “I shower fast.”

  “I hope you don’t do everything fast.”

  Laughing together, they hurried inside and upstairs, where they stripped off their clothes in a messy trail on the way to the bathroom.

  “Shower cap?” she thought to ask. “If I get my hair wet, it’ll mess up the color.”

  “Might have one.” Naked and supremely hot, he opened a cupboard and pulled out a plastic bag with hotel-size toiletries. He also tossed a condom on the counter by the shower.

  Kim rummaged in the bag and triumphantly pulled out a small package of her own. “Don’t laugh,” she warned as she slipped the plastic hood over her spiky hair.

  The corners of his mouth pulled and his eyes danced, but he shook his head solemnly. “You look cute.”

  “Just what every woman wants to hear when she’s about to shower naked with a man,” she said ruefully.

  “And sexy,” he added. “Very sexy.”

  The man clearly wanted sex, and knew that laughing at her wasn’t the best method of getting it.

  “In fact,” he said, “they should put you in an ad. It’d sell a lot of shower caps.”

  She gave an amused snort. “Don’t push it, Ty.”

  “I’ll just shut up now.” His eyes still sparkling, he turned away to get the shower going, then he stepped under the spray. The shower was large enough that there was no need to pull the curtain.

  He didn’t, and nor did she.

  His back was to her, and Kim took a moment to enjoy the view. Water sluiced over his head, darkening his hair, molding it to the strong shape of his head. Streams ran down his muscled back and broad shoulders, to the hollow at the base of his spine, over the taut curves and pale skin of his butt. She’d read
that women didn’t get aroused by looking, but her body disagreed. Watching hot water course over Ty’s body was enough to send warm pulses of arousal darting through her veins to pool between her legs.

  He turned to face her. “Waiting for an invitation?”

  She stepped in to join him, his body taking the brunt of the shower water so that only a fine mist sprayed over his shoulders to touch her face and chest. His own chest was soaked, droplets gleaming on his brown skin and catching in soft curls of hair. She spread her hands over his pecs, tested their muscled perfection. One day, she really did want to draw this man.

  Now, though, arousing him was her goal. She leaned forward to lick water from his nipple, then she sucked the small bud, teasing it to hardness. Glancing down, she saw his cock swell and lift.

  He turned and did something with the shower control, and suddenly it was raining. Rather than water from a showerhead pounding against his back, now a gentle rain came from the ceiling, sprinkling both of them. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she gazed up and realized he’d installed a rainfall shower. She’d never been in one before and, entranced, said, “This is wonderful!” It was like standing outside in a warm spring shower. Naked. With a shower cap on her head. And with Ty.

  “You could design a line of shower umbrellas,” he joked.

  She chuckled. “Kind of defeats the purpose.”

  “Which some of us would say about shower caps,” he pointed out, green sparkles dancing in his eyes.

  She really didn’t want him thinking about the unsexy shower cap. And she knew the perfect way to distract him. Enjoying the soft patter of drops on her shoulders, she wrapped one arm around Ty’s body and slid down until she was kneeling, hugging him with her hands cupping his butt and her face pressed against his waist. She licked his navel as his cock rose to bump her chin. It had been her ultimate goal anyhow, so why delay any longer? She tongued the crown, tasting mostly shower water but also a seductive hint of musky, aroused male that grew stronger as she opened her mouth and took him in.

  He was so big, and her mouth was small. She couldn’t encompass much of him, but she sucked and licked him like he was a Popsicle, melting faster than her tongue could keep up with. The full, dusky head of his cock, the sensitive ring beneath the crown, the thick shaft with that throbbing vein—all so erotic. Her pussy craved that organ, and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling a deliciously frustrating ache of desire.

  Ty groaned, shifted, braced himself with a hand against the wall. He widened his legs.

  She dipped her head, working down his shaft with her tongue, caressing his balls gently with her fingers, then with her tongue. Her own body tightened and vibrated with arousal. She thrummed the sensitive spot between cock and balls.

  He thrust convulsively. “Jesus, Kim.”

  Then he bent and caught her under the armpits, hauling her up roughly, needily. He grabbed the condom and sheathed himself, then he hoisted her as if she were weightless.

  Under the rain shower, she wrapped her legs around him tightly, anchored herself with an arm around his neck, and reached down to guide him into her more than ready body. Oh, yes! That was exactly what she needed.

  There was little more she could do than cling to Ty as he held her hips steady and plunged into her, deep and hard, over and over. The rain was gentle and steady, a counterpoint to his jerky, forceful thrusts. Inside her, there was friction, her muscles gripping and releasing, his shaft stroking, bringing every cell alive. Tension, delicious tension, building, building until she couldn’t bear it.

  And then Ty found a spot, a magic spot inside her, a bright, sweet, blazing spot, and she lifted her face to the rain and cried out as her body broke and convulsed in bliss.

  Dimly, she was aware of Ty giving a wrenching groan, climaxing inside her, almost losing his balance but somehow managing to stay on his feet. To keep her safe in his arms.

  Then, slowly, he let her down.

  Breathless, legs trembling, she managed to step out of the shower. She peeled off the shower cap, reached for a towel, and then—yes, she was definitely shaky—leaned against the counter.

  Ty switched off the rain and stepped out, grabbing a towel of his own. “Wow. Some shower.”

  She smiled. “Gotta love the rain.”

  He wrapped the towel around his waist and leaned down to kiss her.

  Shoving away from the counter, she came up on her toes and pressed her wet body against him, enjoying the easy sensuality of a kiss after sex. A kiss that wasn’t about need or arousal, just about sharing, giving thanks, saying “I think you’re special.”

  Then she sighed. “We should dry off and get dressed or we’ll be late.”

  “Mom will hold lunch.”

  She separated their bodies and toweled herself vigorously. “Or come see what’s keeping us.” The afterglow of sex hadn’t even worn off, and she was starting to get nervous. With Chinese parents, she knew the proper way to behave, the polite things to say, the correct answers to give to questions. But Ty’s parents were an unknown quantity.

  It didn’t really matter if she impressed them, but it was ingrained to want people, especially of the parental generation, to like her. She didn’t want to embarrass herself or Ty.

  * * *

  When Ty dressed in shorts and a tee, Kim said, “You’re not wearing jeans. So it’s okay that I’m in capris, not jeans?”

  “Jeans aren’t a uniform,” he teased. “They’re just practical for a lot of ranch work. You look great, all pretty and summery.”

  “But not like I belong on a ranch.”

  “You look like you. Works for me.” He studied her, saw tension crease her forehead. “What are you worried about?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go. And by the way, you have nice legs.”

  “You have nice everything.”

  As they went down the stairs, he asked, “You okay with walking down to their place?”

  “Ty”—she rolled her eyes—“I walk four or five kilometers a day.”

  Maybe it was her petite size or her artistic style, but he kept forgetting how fit she was. “Okay, good.” They went out the front door. “If my mom gets too pushy, change the subject.”

  “You figure she’ll get too pushy.” She said it resignedly, not as a question.

  He sighed and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’ve met her.”

  “Right. She’ll get pushy. Okay”—her tone brightened—“let’s make a list of things I could say to change the subject.” She slanted a gleaming gaze at him. “I could ask to see your baby pictures.”

  “Oh Lord, don’t do that.”

  She swung their clasped hands as they headed down the road. “What’ll you give me if I ask about ostriches rather than baby pictures?”

  He laughed. “What do you want, Kim?”

  “Darn, I was hoping you’d say, ‘anything.’”

  She had something in mind. He could see it in her eyes as she went on. “I’m seriously thinking I’ll have to ask about baby pictures. I bet you were the cutest baby.”

  “Nope. Ugly as sin.”

  “Really? Now I have to see.”

  He groaned. This was blackmail. What did the woman want? Sex, hopefully. Not that she had to blackmail him to get that.

  “Did you have hair or were you bald?” She slipped her slim hand free of his, thrust it into his back pocket, and squeezed his ass. “Were you a chubby baby with a cute little round butt?”

  “Stop, stop, I give in. Anything. I’ll give you anything.” Sex, please.

  “I know what I want.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “To paint you naked.”

  “You already did.” And they’d had great sex. “Sure, we can do that again. But maybe with food, and I get to paint you too.”

  “Ooh, I like that. But that’s not what I meant.” She released his ass and went back to holding his hand.

  He scratched his head. Sometimes, he and Kim were in sync. Other time
s, he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “What, then?”

  “In art school, there are life classes.”

  “Life classes?” Another art term that made no sense.

  They turned onto the side road to Ronan Ranch headquarters and his parents’ house. The area around the barn was clear; the ranch hands would all be on lunch break.

  “Life drawing,” Kim said. “As in, drawing from life.”

  “Beats drawing from death,” he joked, still not understanding. “Oh, you mean still lifes? Like, uh, pears in bowls?” Nothing against pears, but he liked outdoorsy subjects.

  “Mmm. But life drawing’s also called figure drawing because our subjects are humans.”

  “You sketched me for the last hour or two.”

  “I’m talking about human still lifes. Not moving.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop so they faced each other. Staring up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes, she said. “And nude. You take your clothes off and pose for me, and I sketch you.”

  His jaw dropped.

  “Or,” she went on, “if you don’t want to, I’d love to see those baby pictures.”

  “Ty! Kim!” It was his mother’s voice.

  He turned and saw her standing by the open front door of the house, wearing a yellow tee and a denim wraparound skirt, waving.

  Kim waved back and called, “Hello, Mrs. Ronan.” Then, quietly, to Ty, “Posing nude, or photos of baby butt cheeks?”

  “This is blackmail.”

  “It’s your choice, cowboy. But posing nude would be sexier.”

  Sexy? He’d have said embarrassing. Hmm. Maybe it could be sexy. Stretching out to showcase the muscles she liked to ogle, watching her sketch every line of his body. It’d be a turn-on. For him. How about for Kim? Would she be able to stay in artist mode, or could he get her all hot and bothered? Which one of them could hold out the longest? Whatever happened, it’d end in sex. That, he’d guarantee.

  “Ty?” It was his mother again.

  “You said the S word,” he told Kim. “Posing nude. Definitely.” Then he called, “Coming, Mom,” and, hand in hand, he and Kim walked toward the house and up the steps.