by Tessa Layne
A tear leaked out and slowly rolled down her cheek as he pressed and prodded. “A lot,” she said, voice wavering.
His chest went all achy at her teary reply. She was working too damned hard, and he hated seeing her in this condition. “Can you hire some help?”
She shook her head, not opening her eyes.
“Why not?”
“No one here locally. Emmaline helps when she can, but her dress orders are cranking up. Don’t worry. I’ll get through this. Growing pains.”
Growing pains, his ass. He’d have to figure out how to get her some help. He’d be damned if he stood by quietly while she worked herself to death. He reached for her other hand, repeating his ministrations. She groaned loudly. “Ohmygod, you have no idea how good that feels.” Another tear rolled down her cheek.
That was it. This called for drastic measures. Scooping her into his arms, he stood and marched down the hall toward the bathroom. “Have you been eating?” He swore she felt ten pounds lighter.
“Yes,” she mumbled into his neck.
“Not enough.” He shouldered open the door, depositing her on the toilet and bending to turn on the hot water.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He pulled up her shirt, startled she lifted her arms without protest. The ache in his chest grabbed at him. He’d been crisscrossing Texas, sleeping in comfy beds, signing autographs, and racking up the wins while she toiled at home, not caring for herself and doing a mighty fine job of keeping up appearances during their FaceTime chats. “You need some TLC,” he said gruffly, whipping off his tee-shirt and tossing it to the floor next to hers. He toed off his boots, not caring that she’d scold. He was in a hurry, dammit. He dropped his jeans and briefs with a clatter, and helped her to stand, pulling off her yoga pants with an easy tug. He pulled back the shower curtain. “Ladies first.”
She gave him a tired smile, but didn’t argue.
He took her in his arms, angling their bodies so the hot water hit between her shoulder blades. A shudder wracked her body as she softened into him. “Just stay here, sweetheart. Let the water do its thing,” he murmured, losing his fingers in her silky hair, breathing her in.
“I’m so tired,” she admitted with a catch in her voice.
“I know. It’s okay. Just rest a bit okay?” She nodded against his chest. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but with a start, he realized the hot water would run out if he wasn’t careful. “Where’s the soap?”
“Corner.”
Reluctantly, he let go of her and turned, momentarily startled at the sheer volume of product in the corners.
Her quiet laugh echoed off the tile. “Three women, one bathroom.”
“Does it matter which one?”
“Nah.”
He grabbed the first bottle his hands touched, squirting flowery smelling shampoo into his palm. “Come here,” he said rubbing his hands together and turning. He ran his hands through her hair, pressing his fingers into her scalp as he worked up a lather. She sighed appreciatively as he worked down the back of her head to her neck. “Your neck is like a rock.”
“I know,” she answered in a small voice.
“Let’s get you rinsed off, and I’ll work on it.” He gently pushed her back into the water, wiping the soap from her forehead, and lifting her hair so it washed clean. Then he stepped back, reaching for the conditioner, repeating his motions and scalp massaging. Only then, was it time for the soap. “Turn around, brace against the wall if you need.” Foregoing a washcloth, he lathered up his hands and started working the knots in her shoulders. “Take a deep breath, exhale the tension.” He repeated all the phrases he’d ever heard from the massage therapists he’d used over the years. Slowly, the tension began to drain from her shoulders. She’d need hours of work, but at least this was a start, and hopefully gave her some relief.
“Colt?” She looked back at him over her shoulder, her gaze dark and hot. “Touch me.”
Lust shot through him springing his cock to life. He stepped closer, bringing his hands to her front, cradling her breasts and gently tugging on her nipples. He bent his head, placing a kiss on her neck and murmuring into her ear. “You mean like this?”
“Yesss,” she hissed, rolling her hips back against him, pressing her sweet ass against his cock.
Oh hell, yes. She was slippery with soap and arousal, and fuck. No condoms. He clenched his jaw as she slid along his cock. “Fuck you feel good,” he groaned, body tensing as heat built to blinding proportions. “But we have no protection in here.”
She fisted her hand against the tile. “We’ll have to get creative, then, because you feel too damn good to stop.”
He thrust his hips again, mind spinning with possibilities. “Turn around,” he ordered. With a sexy little moan, she complied and arched her back against the wall, thrusting her gorgeous tits his direction. “I like how you think,” he murmured, shooting her a naughty grin.
He dropped his head, blazing a trail with his tongue from her collarbone down the swell of her breast, pink from the hot water, to her nipple, rosy and hard. She tasted of flowery soap, warm skin, and essence of Lydia. A combination that both aroused and settled into his bones. He flicked her nipple over and over until she cried out, and in a move that surprised and electrified him, her hand enclosed around his cock. With a groan, mouth still covering her, he thrust into her hand. It might not be her sweet, hot pussy, but he had no complaints. She stroked up his shaft, thumb sweeping back and forth across the head until he saw stars.
He teetered on the edge, burning with the desire to bury himself balls-deep in her heaven, but knowing he couldn’t risk it. Even with her. Bracing a forearm on the tile, he traced a trail across her hip until he found her pussy lips engorged and slick. “That’s it, babe,” he murmured, finding her clit and teasing it with his thumb. “Touch me however you like. I love what you do to me.” Understatement. She touched off a wildfire in him.
Her eyes became dark pools as a slow sexy smile tilted her mouth. Her tongue slowly swept across her lower lip. “Kiss me, cowboy.”
He thrust a hand into her hair and pulled, tilting her mouth and claiming it with a fervor that left them both shaking. With a grunt, she squeezed his cock harder, spurring him on as he licked into her mouth, losing himself in her. His moan of ecstasy quickly turned to a cry of surprise as the water turned to ice.
Lydia’s eyes flew wide as she squealed trying to dodge the spray.
Colt flung back the shower curtain, not even bothering to turn off the water. Wrapping an arm around Lydia, he scooped her up and stalked down the hall. Her gasps of breathless laughter echoed down the hall. He burst into her room, kicking the door shut behind him and collapsing on the bed with her. His heart stumbled at the sight of her, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. But as he stared, she bit down on that full lower lip he loved to taste, pupils dilating as her breath hitched. Holding her gaze, he stretched for the drawer at her bedside table and with his fingers, captured a condom.
He ripped it open with his teeth before handing her the package, blood rushing to his balls in anticipation of her touch. Still looking nowhere but at him, she rolled it down his length with sure, firm, strokes. “Lie back,” he rasped, the room suddenly hot.
She rolled to her back, dropping her knees, baring herself to him. Then in an act of the sweetest submission, she raised her hands above her, stretching like a cat begging for a tummy scratch. Moving over her, he laced his fingers with hers, settling at her entrance, wanting to sheath himself in her warmth, but hesitating.
With a little cry, Lydia lifted her hips, stroking against him. “Please, Colt.”
He couldn’t resist her. With a grumble of pure pleasure, he drove home into her tight heat, seeking her mouth, needing to touch, stroke, lick. She answered with a moan of her own, deep in her throat as she canted her hips against his, and undulated under him as their kisses became deeper, more desperate. As they climbed higher and teetered
on the precipice, fire raced up the back of his legs culminating in a laser point of white-hot heat that burst through him like a star shooting across the night sky. He was dimly aware of her cries joining his, but he could barely hear over the buzzing in his ears.
As she came slowly back into focus, he squeezed her hands, marveling at how her eyes looked more green than blue after they made love. How she had faint freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, a product of a childhood spent outside. Sex looked good on her, and for an alarming second, words shot up his throat, ready to tumble from his mouth. Big words he had no business thinking or saying. He clamped down on his tongue and kissed her instead, tenderly. “Let me go take care of this before someone surprises us.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t be interrupted.” Her voice called after him as he hurried down the hall to the bathroom.
“We’re really all alone?” He asked when he returned, washcloth in hand.
“Luci’s helping her folks make tamales today, and Emmaline left just before you got here to go visit her mother in Topeka.”
He tossed the washcloth into the hamper, and crawled up next to her, settling her in the curve of his arm. “So no one will hear you scream my name when I make you come again?”
She cupped his face, giving him a relaxed smile. He liked seeing her like this, relaxed and sated from their lovemaking. “Who says I’m going to scream?”
He gave her ass a gentle pinch. “I’m going to make you scream so loud, they’ll hear you the next block over.”
Her eyes lit. “Promise?”
He nodded. “You need at least five more orgasms to work the knots from your shoulders.”
“I like the sound of that,” she purred, dropping a kiss on his collarbone and slipping a leg between his. “When are we going to get started?”
He pushed her onto her back, the first stirrings of desire sparking to life in his belly. “I’m not busy.” He trailed a finger from the hollow at her neck between her breasts. “I think I should start here.” He lowered his head to the swell, lapping at her skin.
“LYDIA MARGUERITE GRACE!! I KNOW YOU ARE HOME.” Dottie’s voice boomed from the front room.
Lydia Marguerite? Colt covered a laugh as Lydia squeaked beneath him and with a superhuman heave, rolled, pushing him off the bed. He landed with a thunk.
“Ohmygodit’smymother,” she hissed, wide-eyed, as she scrambled off the bed, searching for something to wear.
“LYDIA??” Dottie’s voice sounded closer this time, and fit to be tied.
Lydia shoved a hand into her robe. “Don’t move a muscle,” she hissed as she shoved the other arm into the sleeve. “Coming, mama,” she called loudly.
Giving Colton a last look, she slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.
Holy. Hell. Shit was about to hit the fan.
CHAPTER 25
Lydia fought to keep a clear head. Her mother was on a rampage, and that could only mean one thing. She’d somehow discovered their engagement. Dottie rarely got angry, but when she blew her stack, she was known to make grown men cry.
“Lydia,” her mother bellowed a third time. “Do not make me wait another second.”
“Mama, I’m right here,” she answered calmly, padding down the hall to where her mother stood blocking her path to the living room. “I was taking a nap.”
Dottie gave her a look so frosty, Lydia’s toes grew cold. “You were no more taking a nap than I was when I conceived each of you girls.”
Lydia’s stomach dropped like a stone. Her mother knew, and now there was nothing to do but take her lumps and try and work a little damage control.
“Okay,” she answered levelly. She knew better than to try and engage her mother in conversation when she was this worked up. Eventually, it would blow over.
Dottie waved a magazine at her. “Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head. “I can’t see it, mama.”
“Here.” Dottie opened the magazine to a dog-eared page and folded the paper back on itself, thrusting it at her. “Maybe you can see a little better.”
Lydia took the magazine, half-sick. Before looking at the open page, she glanced at the cover. Rodeo Today covered the top third in big white letters. Just below was a picture of Colton with the byline “Is Rodeo’s Casanova taking the plunge?”
She’d bet money the Carters were behind this juicy nugget of publicity. Flipping back to the page her mother had turned to, a picture of Colt dipping her in a hot embrace, glared up at her. The gaudy engagement ring circled in red. She handed back the magazine with a sigh. “I was afraid something like this would happen,” she admitted.
Her comment lit her mother up like a sparkler. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it was to learn that my daughter is engaged to Colton Kincaid from Diana Appleberry?”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Exactly,” said Dottie emphatically, crossing her arms and looking ready to cry. “Diana Appleberry is the librarian at the Marion Public Library. She saw fit to drive all the way over from Marion this morning to show me the latest edition of her favorite rodeo gossip magazine.” Dottie fixed her with a glare. “I might as well have read it in People Magazine.”
Ouch.
“Oh, Mama, I’m sorry.”
Dottie held up a hand. “Save your breath. Where’s Colton? I have a few things to say to that young man.”
This was going from bad to worse. She prayed he’d had the presence of mind to wrap a sheet around himself. “Mama, I don’t think–”
Dottie pushed past her. “I will discuss this with you later, young lady. COLTON?” She stalked down the hall to her bedroom and pushed it open. “You can’t hide from me. I know you’re in there.”
Lydia flushed to her toes. She would never live this down with her sisters. She rushed after her mother. “Mama, please.” She crossed the threshold in time to see Colt standing up on the other side of the bed, naked as the day he was born. “Oh, lordy,” she gasped.
Dottie’s hands went to her hips, unfazed by his lack of attire. “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”
Colt flashed her a smile that could melt the coldest ice. “I intend to marry your daughter, Mrs. Grace.”
What?
Lydia’s heart stopped beating for a second, before kicking erratically. She must have heard wrong. This was not part of their agreement. She shook her head wildly, trying to get his attention, but Colt refused to look her direction, although she was sure he could see her, she was right behind her mother, hopping up and down like a crazy woman.
Dottie stepped aside, looking back and forth between the two of them, a look of horror on her face. “You mean to tell me you got engaged and hid it from your mother?”
When she put it that way, Lydia sounded like the worst child ever. She wilted under her mother’s fierce expression. “I’m sorry, mama. I-I–”
Colt cleared his throat. “Mrs. Grace, it’s my fault. Things moved pretty quickly between us.”
“I’ll say,” Dottie huffed.
Colt continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Lydia wanted to tell you right away, but I was worried about upstaging the fundraising efforts for Resolution Ranch. You know how people talk, and we didn’t want to steal their thunder. We figured we’d wait until after, since the wedding’s still aways off.”
“And when were you planning to be married?”
Lydia couldn’t hear for the buzzing in her ears. She tried to talk, but her tongue wouldn’t move. Colt’s voice hit her as if she was underwater. August twenty-eighth. Everything popped back to normal speed as her mother harrumphed. “At least that’s a decent amount of time to prepare. Not like the others.”
Colt nodded, looking cool as a cucumber. “Exactly.”
Lydia shook her head at him again, but he wouldn’t look at her. What did he think he was doing? Didn’t he know he’d break her mother’s heart if a wedding didn’t take place? She couldn’t be responsible for that.
No, the charade had to be up now.
She stepped forward. “Mama, I don’t think–”
Colt gave her a sharp look. “Dottie I’m sorry you didn’t hear the good news from us first. Please don’t be mad at Lydia. It was all my fault.”
She’d think it was sweet he was throwing himself under the bus where her mother was concerned, if not for the fact that he’d committed her to a wedding in August.
“Oh, you kids.” Dottie’s voice softened and she wiped her eye. “You know I just want the best for all of you.”
“I know, and I promise I’ll do right by Lydia. I’ll always make sure she’s provided for.”
“I can provide for myself just fine, thank you,” Lydia shot back tartly, skin growing hot. He was acting like she wasn’t even there. “And for heaven’s sake, Colt. Put on some pants.”
Dottie waved her off. “Oh pish. I changed his diapers when he was a little thing.”
“Mama!” Lydia slapped her hand to her forehead, shaking her head. Could the floor swallow her up now?
“I’ll leave you two. It’s obvious I interrupted something. Colton, I expect you for Sunday dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
His mouth quirked as he said it. Lydia didn’t think her mother noticed, but she did, and she would have a thing or two to say to him once her mother removed herself from her bedroom. She should feel relieved that her mother hadn’t grilled her. If her mother had asked her if they loved each other, or anything else direct, she’d have caved on the spot. She was a shitty liar, not to mention her mother could sniff out a liar faster than a German shepherd hunting for narcotics.
Dottie pulled Colton into a fierce hug, naked ass and all. “I always thought the two of you might find each other someday,” she said with a quiver.
“And you too, sweetie.” Her mother reached for her.
Lydia shut her eyes as guilt washed over her. “Thank you, mama,” she murmured, unable to trust herself to say more. Dottie would be devastated when the truth came to light. She’d cried for days over Carolina at Christmas. Her mother’s heart was so big and so sensitive. Most people never saw it, but it was part of what made her mother beloved to the residents of Prairie. And she was the worst child ever. Giving her a final pat on the cheek, Dottie excused herself, eyes bright with future wedding plans.
