She couldn’t wait to peel off that shirt later tonight. For his haircut, of course. Yeah, right. She’d stopped by the salon and picked up her scissors and a couple of her favorite combs. Then she’d bought several catnip mice at the feed store and had asked the clerk to double-bag them to reduce the scent. She’d managed to smuggle them into the house and onto the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet without Jimi being the wiser.
Performing on a stage, and on the very stool where she’d recently made love to the guy in the red shirt, added an erotic layer of meaning to each song. In a room crowded with people, she and Bryce were the only ones who knew that secret. Since he’d orchestrated the whole thing, he had to be thinking about it when he looked over at her. Every glance made her tingle from head to toe.
After her last set, she carried her guitar over to the bar. She waited while he finished up with a customer before moving in her direction.
His eyes sparkled with excitement but he kept his voice low. “Great job tonight.”
“Thanks. How about if I leave now? I can get set up for your haircut.”
“Works for me.” He pushed the keys across the polished surface. “Can’t wait.”
“Me, either.” In no time, she’d gathered her stuff from his office and was back with the keys. “See you soon.”
“I’ll be over as quick as I can.”
“Don’t speed.”
He just smiled.
He would drive like a maniac and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t speed on the way home, but she didn’t dawdle, either. Once inside, she left the front door unlocked and checked on Jimi.
He’d complained while she’d showered and dressed tonight. Clearly he’d expected another long, lonely night. When he met her at the door with happy meows and purrs, she picked him up and loved on him for a while. Yes, this was the right decision. If it worked out that she and Bryce could have some private time, all the better.
After stowing her guitar and her canvas bag, she gave Jimi a serving of his favorite canned food. Then she hurried upstairs to change and light the antique hurricane lamps in her bedroom.
She didn’t use the oil lamps often. The light was too dim for reading or putting on makeup. It was, however, perfect for making love. She hadn’t expected to ever use the lamps for that purpose while Jimi was still around, but here she was, putting a match to the wick of two on her dresser and two on the mantel of the small corner fireplace.
Aunt Henrietta had given her a romantic setting with a queen-sized canopy bed draped in antique lace. The bed wasn’t vintage and she was grateful for that now. It still might be a little small for Bryce, but a true antique would have totally cramped his style. How tall Victorian gentlemen had managed to sleep in them, let alone romp with their lovers, was a mystery.
She quickly undressed and put on a silk robe she seldom wore. Aunt Henrietta had bought it in Chinatown because she’d loved the colors and the dragon on the back. But she’d given up wearing it because the silk was slippery and the sash wouldn’t hold.
She’d gifted it to Nicole, who’d discovered the same problem with the sash. But what had been a negative would become a positive tonight. She ran a brush through her hair and scampered barefoot down the stairs.
Jimi met her at the bottom. He’d probably heard Bryce’s truck pulling into the drive.
Crouching down, she smoothed her hand over his head and down his back. “It’s only Bryce, kitty-cat. He’s a friend, a good friend who gave you his hat.”
Jimi stared at the door as booted footsteps hit the porch. When Bryce tapped lightly on the door, the cat arched his back and hissed.
Nicole started singing one of the most soothing melodies she knew—Scarlet Ribbons.
On the other side of the door, Bryce joined in.
Jimi stopped hissing.
Bryce continued the gentle lullaby as he gradually opened the door, slipped inside and closed it again. Dropping to one knee, he began to pet the cat by coordinating his movements exactly with hers so his hand followed right behind.
Within seconds, Jimi began to purr.
Nicole came to the end of the song and stopped singing, but she kept up the tandem petting routine as she glanced across at Bryce. “Hi.”
He met her gaze. “Hi, yourself. How are we doing?”
“Until this moment, Aunt Henrietta and I had been the only two people who’d ever petted him. So how do you think we’re doing?”
“Spectacular.”
“I agree. Where’s your hat?”
“Left it in the truck.”
“Smart.”
His attention drifted lower. “Your robe’s coming open.”
“Is it?” She let out a dramatic sigh. “The pesky thing keeps coming undone.”
“What a shame.”
“Ready for your haircut?”
“Among other things.”
“Let’s start with that.” She rose slowly to her feet and retied the sash. “That’s better.”
He stood, too. His breathing quickened as his glance traveled the length of the robe. “Please don’t feel you have to keep that sash tight on my account.”
“I can’t very well have my robe coming open while I’m trimming your hair.” She started back toward the kitchen and Jimi trotted ahead of her.
“Wouldn’t bother me.”
“It wouldn’t? Bummer.”
He chuckled. “So I lied. Listen, can I kiss you yet?”
“Better hold off until I finish your hair. That way we’ll have a chance to see how Jimi’s going to react to having you back in the house.”
“You’re a devil, lady, wearing that slippery robe when I can’t even—”
“You know how a song has to build from the first line to the last one?”
“Okay, I see where you’re going with this.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“I’m making sacrifices, too, you know. I’d envisioned taking off that sexy shirt of yours but now I realize you’ll have to do it or we’ll never get to the haircut.”
“I see.” He stood in front of her and began slowly unsnapping the cuffs of his shirt as he held her gaze. “I suppose two can play this game.”
She swallowed. “Guess so.”
After the cuffs, he started on the front snaps, his movements deliberate and tantalizing.
She couldn’t look away.
Inch by agonizing inch he revealed his sculpted chest. “Guess we couldn’t have played this game in the salon.”
“No.” She trembled with the need to touch him.
“Are you sure you want to cut my hair first?”
“No.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m liable to snip off a piece of your ear.”
“Let’s skip the Van Gogh routine. Is your bedroom upstairs or down?”
“Up.”
“Where are the mice?”
She pointed to the cupboard where she’d stashed them.
Leaving his shirt undone, he walked over and opened it.
“Top shelf, brown bag.”
“Got it.” He ripped open both bags.
The minute he did, Jimi went nuts, circling his legs and carrying on about those mice.
“They’re all yours, Jimi.” Bryce dumped them on the floor, tossed the bag down there, too, and walked over to Nicole. His smile was pure seduction. “And you, lady, are all mine.”
Chapter Seventeen
Taking her hand, Bryce led Nicole out of the kitchen and through the dining room. He didn’t bother to shorten his stride and she was race-walking to keep up with him by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs.
To her credit, she didn’t ask for a breather. “Don’t try to carry me up there.”
“Wasn’t gonna.” He started to take the steps two at a time, but he modified that urge although he continued the brisk pace. “Need to conserve my strength.”
“Do you, now?” Matching his efforts, she appeared short on breath.
“Yes, ma’am. A man needs stamina i
f he intends to love a woman the way I intend to love you.”
“And how is that?”
“Slow, steady and prolonged.”
She sucked in a breath. “You’re not taking it very slow right now.”
“I’m making sure we get into your bedroom with the door closed before Jimi gets tired of his mice.” He reached the second floor and took stock of the situation before setting off again.
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“The room with lights on seems logical. Everything else up here is dark as a tomb.” At the open door, he paused, and his breath came out in a sigh of happiness. “Wow.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.” Scooping her into his arms, all silk and warm woman, he stepped inside, nudged the door closed with his shoulder and carried her to the bed. She’d even pulled back the covers. He laid her down and the lapels of her robe fell away. As planned, no doubt.
Leaning against the corner post of her canopy bed, he pulled off his boots while he feasted on the sight of her lying there in a pool of colorful silk. Her hair spread out on the pillow like tongues of flame. Gentle light from the oil lamps caressed her body and he memorized the view as he took off his shirt and unfastened his jeans.
The tantalizing quiver of her nipples made his mouth water and the shadow of her navel beckoned him to dip his tongue into that sweet spot. He would taste and explore tonight, savor and absorb the wonders of Nicole.
A light sheen of moisture on her inner thighs told him she was eager for him. Her gaze said it, too. He shoved his jeans and boxers to the floor. No man could ask for more than this—a beautiful woman who craved what he had to offer.
Picking up his jeans, he pulled a condom out of his pocket. He laid it on the antique nightstand beside the bed before climbing in beside her.
“You’re not putting it on?”
“Not yet.” He smoothed a hand over her cheek and down to cup her breast. “I have things to do, first.” Taking her mouth gently, he settled in with leisurely strokes of his tongue as he fondled the satin weight of her breast. She was right. This was like the rhythm of a song.
The intro—sliding his mouth to the pulse in her throat, massaging her breasts, feeling her pulse flutter against the pressure of his lips. First verse—taking her nipple between his teeth, rolling it against his tongue, drawing it deep.
Second verse—his hand stroking her damp thigh, moving higher, cupping her heat, slipping inside, teasing, taunting. Her whimpers a chorus.
Third verse—his tongue learning her secrets, coaxing her to open, to abandon herself to his intimate kisses. Her chorus of moans blending with the insistent pressure of his mouth there, right…there.
Her strangled cry of release seared him with white-hot pleasure. He stayed with her as she shivered in the aftermath of her climax until he couldn’t ignore the demands of his body another second.
Reaching for the condom, he tore open the wrapping and rolled it on. She gasped when he entered her, almost as if she wasn’t ready for more. But then she dug her fingers into his hips, bent her knees and urged him deeper.
He accepted her invitation with a groan of relief. He’d waited for this moment all day. He’d also vowed it wouldn’t be as wild as their other episodes. Locked inside her warmth he had trouble focusing on that vow. Rationality and civilized behavior faded, leaving him with raw, primitive need.
Where had that come from? He’d never been a caveman type who wanted to haul a woman off by her hair. But downstairs he’d spouted some possessive BS like lady, you’re all mine. He’d never said something like that, not even to Charity. He didn’t believe it, either. A woman belonged to herself, never to him.
He gazed into her eyes, filled with a soft light in the aftermath of her climax, and the frantic beating of his heart calmed. He’d promised her slow. He believed in honoring a promise.
He initiated an unhurried pace, rocking his hips in a steady, undemanding rhythm. “How’s that?”
“Nice.”
“I like it, too.”
She bracketed his hips and rose to meet each thrust. Her breath caught. “Bryce, I think…”
“What, sweet lady?”
“I think I could come again.”
“That was the plan, but take your time.” He’d felt the spasm, though, and his cock grew rock hard and ready for action.
“I mean soon.”
“How soon?”
“Now! Go for it!” She dug her fingers into his butt.
Abandoning the easy pace, he shoved his hands under her bottom and pounded into her. He hoped to hell she was about to come because he was. He couldn’t stop it, now.
The moment she let go with a wail, he slipped the leash on his bad boy and buried himself in her hot body. As joy swept through him, he yelled out her name. Several times.
Afterward, as he worked to catch his breath, his song teased him. His incomplete song. Capturing the essence of this woman in a few words might take more talent than he possessed.
But he would by God give it a shot, and a decent shot. He had a routine that had worked in the past—spending a night in the wilderness with only a horse and his guitar for company. Might as well try it.
Evidently he’d lost himself in that scenario because she had to wiggle his shoulder and call his name to get his attention. He propped himself on his forearms and gazed down at her. “Sorry. Zoned out for a minute. See what I mean? It’s a bad habit.”
“No, it’s a creative habit. I could tell you were thinking. But Jimi’s scratching at the door.”
Sure enough, she was right. He hadn’t heard a thing. “What do we do?”
“He’s never been shut out of this bedroom. I need to let him in.”
“Give me a minute.” He climbed out of the bed, mindful of the condom, and glanced around. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down the hall.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“It’s an old house. Attached bathrooms weren’t part of the floorplan.” She leaned over, pulled open the nightstand drawer, and tossed him a package of tissues.
“Thanks.” He made use of them and picked up his boxers.
“Are you getting dressed, then?”
“If the cat’s coming in, you bet. Aren’t you?”
“I hadn’t figured out this part, but he usually sleeps in here with me.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s probably ready to go night-night.”
Jimi’s meow clearly said he agreed. He scratched some more.
“That’s my cue to take off and let you two do your thing.” He reached for his jeans.
“Wait.” She stood and came toward him, the robe hanging open. “I hate for you to leave.”
His gaze swept over her and he sighed. “Believe me, I hate to leave, too, but three’s a crowd and Jimi has a prior claim to your bed.”
“Would you…no, never mind.”
“Would I what?”
“Consider sharing the bed with him?” She looked cautiously hopeful.
The meows got louder.
“I doubt he would like that idea.”
“But if it turned out he was okay with it, would you be?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’d make a heck of a chaperone.”
“I know, and it’s fine if you’d rather not.”
“Hey, at least I’d get to be with you.” He smiled. “Does Jimi hog the bed?”
“No. He curls into a ball down at the foot. You’d barely know he was there.”
“Oh, I’d know. To be honest, this might not work. Jimi could end up being a perfect gentleman. I’m not so sure about me.”
“You don’t have to do it, then. It was just an idea.”
He blew out a breath. “But the more I bond with the cat, the easier it’ll be for me to be over here.”
Jimi’s scratching had become nonstop.
“That’s true.”
“Then let’s try it.”
“Thank you.” S
he threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then she quickly backed away. “Before I let him in, I need to get into my jammies.”
He glanced down at his boxers. “This is all I have. You know what? I’ll put on my jeans and sleep on top of the covers.” He stepped into them and zipped up. “That’ll solve…” He lost track of what he’d meant to say.
“Solve what?” She’d tossed the robe over a little antique chair and turned her back on him while she leaned over to rummage through a bottom drawer.
He deserved a blue ribbon in self-control for not grabbing her. The cat meowing outside the door helped. “This isn’t going to work, after all.” His voice sounded strained, but that could happen whenever his jeans severely pinched his expanding privates.
“No?” She turned around, flowered pajamas clutched in her arms. “Why…oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were busy putting on your jeans. I didn’t know you were looking.”
“For future reference, I will always be looking.”
“So I guess you want to leave.” Disappointment shadowed her eyes.
He took a deep breath. “I’ll stay.” He drew strength from her happy smile.
“Good.” She tugged on her pajama bottoms and pulled the top over her head. “I’ll let him in.”
Technically the loose PJs should have reduced her hotness and thus his erection. Didn’t work that way. But he was by God leaving the jeans on. They’d work as a kind of chastity belt.
The second she opened the door, Jimi raced for the bed and jumped up on it. Only then did he freeze and look around, as if sensing all was not normal in his world. His green-eyed stare came to rest on Bryce.
“Give him a blink.”
“Okay.” He made it a slow one. Jimi blinked back, so he did it again. “How long should I keep this up?”
“That’s probably enough. Just stay where you are and don’t stare at him. He should lie down in a minute. Ah, there he goes.”
“Should I move yet?”
“Let me get in first.” She walked around the room blowing out the oil lamps.
A Cowboy's Heart (The McGavin Brothers Book 4) Page 14
