Cowboy 12 Pack
Page 128
“You’re killin’ me here—What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t, actually.”
He peered at her expectantly and she sighed and thrust out her hand.
“Crystal.”
“Crystal?” His jaw dropped. His gaze on her narrowed. “And you went to bed early last night?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
She glared at him. The flirting was fun, but his probing was getting too personal. “None of your beeswax.”
He nodded and backed away. His odd intensity lightened, but he continued to study her. “So if the stripper dudes aren’t your type, what is?”
“Hmm?”
“What is your type?”
She frowned. “Real men?”
“They’re real.”
“I’m sure they’re not imaginary. But they’re not real. Authentic. They’re certainly not cowboys.”
“You like cowboys?”
“What woman doesn’t like cowboys?”
“But you’re a city girl.”
“I was raised on a ranch.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you end up living in Dallas?”
“Same deal. Dad died and, well, we just couldn’t keep the place. We weren’t as enterprising as you and your brother. Besides, I doubt even that would have helped. The bank sold the ranch to a developer. It’s condos now.”
“That sucks.”
“Majorly.” She fiddled with her napkin. “I miss it.”
“So, Crystal, I’m curious. For a woman who’s not into strip clubs…why did you come here?”
“Why do you think? I was railroaded.”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t think that still happened.”
“I was told we were going to a charming B&B Porsche knew. For a relaxing weekend. We’re here to celebrate her birthday.”
Why his grin widened was a mystery, but then he scrubbed his cheek and it faded away. “I’ve known Porsche forever. Can’t believe she’s twenty-one.”
“She works for me.”
“Oh! You’re with…” He snapped his fingers several times. “Bling something.”
“Bling Babes.”
“Right. Right. Oh, that’s right. Yeah. The jewelry store.” He studied her for a moment. “So you’re Porsche’s boss.”
“Yeah.”
“And you went to bed early last night.”
“Yeah.” What was he getting at?
“Did you have anything to drink?”
She glared at him and when he noticed, he winced. It was time, she decided, to change the subject. And maybe put some distance between them “So what is there to do around here until all the fun starts?”
He fixed an innocent expression on his face, one that made ribbons of disquiet skim down her spine. “Oh, lots of stuff. You could go skinny-dipping in the pond—”
“Not.”
“Or take a ride. I could have one of the hands saddle up a horse for you.”
She put her hand to her head and grimaced.
“Or go for a walk. Explore.”
That sounded interesting. “What is there to explore?”
“The barn’s nice.”
“The barn?”
“We breed our own horses. There’s some sheep in there. Maisey just had a litter of puppies.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“There’s a little ranch museum in the back. You know, with knickknacks from days gone by.”
She nodded and pushed away from the table. “I think I may go for a walk.”
“Keep away from the bunkhouse though,” he called after her.
“Why?”
“That’s where the fake men are staying. You wouldn’t want to accidentally tangle with one of them.” His smirk was patently unnecessary.
Crystal rolled her eyes. Yeah. She’d stay away from the bunkhouse for sure. The puppies in the barn sounded good though, so she headed in that direction. It was a nice morning. Quiet and calm. The sounds and smells reminded her so much of home it made her heart hurt, but she pushed the feeling away.
It had taken a while to get over the loss of her family ranch, which had come hand in hand with the loss of her dad. But she’d done it. She’d carved out a life for herself in Dallas and her business was a success. That was a major accomplishment in itself.
That her life still felt empty didn’t matter.
Did it?
She stepped into the barn and drew in a deep breath. The smell of hay and horses sent a trickle of longing through her. She paused to pet a mare on her velvet muzzle and then headed for the back, where she heard the yip of the pups she wanted to see, but before she got there, something captured her attention.
Seized it and took it captive.
She stopped in her tracks and stared at the most perfect male chest she’d ever seen. It was thick and brown and roped with muscles. He couldn’t see her, because he was tugging a shirt over his head, so she allowed herself the luxury of staring. And drooling a little.
And then his head popped through the neck of the shirt and her heart seized.
It was him. The guy from her dream.
The perfect cowboy with the delicious lips, who ravaged her all night in her dreams…and left his hat in her room.
Oh, crap.
He left his hat in her room.
It hadn’t been a dream at all.
Chapter Four
‡
FORD GULPED AS his gaze landed on Crystal.
Shit.
Had he really thought her pretty in the dark of night?
She wasn’t.
She was fucking gorgeous.
She stared at him with wide eyes; her mouth was slightly agape; a delightful rose tinged her cheeks. He knew she was remembering their kiss last night. It was written all over her face. That, and hunger.
Something roiled in his gut and crawled through him. It wasn’t lust. Nothing as simple as that. It was more.
“Good morning,” he said, as he tugged his shirt down and stepped from the small room where he’d spent the night. He hadn’t slept much, thinking of her, but he’d stayed there.
“I, ah, good morning?” Her attention flickered over his tight tee shirt. Her throat worked.
“I see you took me up on my offer.” He grinned and she gaped at him.
“Your offer?”
“To find me when you’d sobered up.”
“Oh, God.”
“You are sober… Aren’t you?”
She frowned at him. “It’s morning.”
He shrugged. “That’s not a guarantee of anything. So… Are you? Sober?” It was an important point.
“Of course I’m sober.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you in my room last night?”
His belly plunged. Hell. Maybe she hadn’t been thinking about their kiss. He stepped closer. Only because he wanted to smell her again. And because he wanted to be closer. He tipped his head and forced a teasing smile. “Are you saying you don’t remember I was in your room last night?”
“You were. You were, weren’t you? Oh, God. God.” She covered her face. He gently took a wrist in each hand and tugged until her mortified expression was revealed.
“Yes, Crystal. I was. In your room. Last night. Do you remember?”
“I was drunk!” she wailed.
“You were loose.”
Her glare was tinged with panic. “What happened? Please tell me nothing happened.”
“Oh, something happened, all right.”
She paled. “Wh-what happened?”
“You kissed me.”
“I kissed you?”
“It was a pretty passionate kiss.” A little demon inside him urged him to add, “And you liked it.”
“I… You… Oh, God.”
Well, shit. He had to let her off the hook. He couldn’t tease her any more, not with that look of horror in her eyes. “But that was all. Just the kiss. Nothing else happened. I tucked you in
and left you there. Alone.”
“Are you sure?”
He held back a snort. “Very sure.”
She nearly collapsed with relief. “I, ah. Thank you.” She dropped her chin. He tipped it back up.
“I don’t take advantage of drunk women, Crystal.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, and something flickered over her expression, as though she was remembering just that. It was a fucking shame she didn’t remember the kiss, because it had been awesome.
“Thank you. You know. For being decent.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t drink a lot. Really. I don’t. Usually I’m the one they call a stick-in-the-mud.”
He chuckled. “Me too.” According to Porsche he had a bad case of it. But it was who he was, for good or ill. “Nothing happened. I promise. Well, other than that kiss.” That magnificent, axis-shifting kiss.
“Thank God.”
Her gushing relief annoyed him for some reason. “It was a pretty awesome kiss.”
She frowned.
“You kind of wrapped yourself around me and scraped my scalp with your nails and growled.”
“I do not growl,” she huffed, but he sensed a hint of amusement behind it.
“Oh, you definitely growled. And I’m pretty sure I have scars.” He parted his hair to show her the evidence of her passion, but she didn’t even look. He batted his lashes. “Although I didn’t mind being marked by a vixen.”
Her lip curled. It was alluring. “A vixen? I’m hardly a vixen.”
Oh, she was. She might not know it, but this bundle of curves was a wild woman underneath her reserved exterior. And he ached to taste that passion again.
“You did, ahem, accost me.”
“I did not.”
“You most certainly did.”
“I do not, as a general rule, accost strange men.”
“I’m not all that strange.”
“I’m an accountant.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“I’m anal.”
He shrugged. “Hey, everyone has their preferences.”
Her mouth opened and then closed. She stared at him for a moment before a laugh erupted. He liked that she got his dry sense of humor. So few people did. It felt good to laugh with her.
And then she smacked him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“What did you mean?”
“It is not in my nature to just grab random guys and kiss them.”
“That’s good to know.”
“It was probably the tequila.”
“Tequila will do it.”
She scraped back her hair and sighed. “I can’t believe it hit me so hard.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and studied her. “How much did you have?”
“A couple shots. That’s all.”
“Ah, a lightweight.”
“Hardly.” Why she gestured to her body, he didn’t know. “I’ve been dieting. I should have countered the alcohol with food.”
Ford stared at her. Her body was perfect. Curvy and lush. Delightfully formed. “Why the hell are you dieting?” His utter bafflement was clear in his squawk.
The blue of her eyes sliced through him. “Seriously? Isn’t it obvious?”
He raked his gaze over her, head to toe. “No. You’re…perfect.” And she was. God, was she ever. His palms itched to explore her curves.
“I am hardly perfect,” she mumbled. “I need to lose ten pounds.”
“That’s a load of crap.” Something lit in her eye, something playful; the energy around them shifted, heated.
She studied him for a moment, nibbling her lip. “Are you sure I liked it? That kiss?” Her tone made his gut sizzle.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you did.”
She nibbled back a smile and shook her head. “I don’t know. You could just be saying that.”
“I’d be happy to kiss you again. You know. So you can decide for yourself.”
Her lips worked; they fascinated him. Heat rose and coiled within him and suddenly his glib joke wasn’t so amusing.
“I, ah, that won’t, I mean, that won’t be necess—”
He didn’t allow her to finish that ridiculous, babbled, nonsensical denial. He yanked her close, chest to chest, groin to groin—and yes, it was as magnificent as he remembered—and he kissed her.
He started slowly, gently, in case she pulled back. If she did, he would let her go. But God help him, she didn’t.
She caught her breath, parted her lips and held still. And then as he dabbed his tongue in, as he explored her mouth, she gave a groan—quite feral in his opinion—and deepened the kiss. She wrapped herself around him again, which he very much appreciated, and rubbed against his crotch. It wasn’t a blatant invitation so much as an exploratory nudge, but he liked that it wasn’t overt.
He cupped her nape as he delved deeper. She was like ambrosia, tantalizing, alluring and addictive. Her smell, her taste, the softness of her curves.
His lust rose quickly, and with it a form of panic and a need he’d not known, nor succumbed to, in a very long time.
Cody was right. He needed to get back on the horse. Even if it was for a short ride. And he very much wanted to ride her.
When she wrapped her leg around him as she had the night before, he grabbed her ass and picked her up, carrying her back into his room and kicking the door shut with his heel, never once breaking contact with her luscious mouth.
He pushed her up against the wall and continued to ravage her; she ravaged him right back. And though he had been teasing about his scars, there was no humor in the way she buried her hands in his hair and raked him with her nails. It was a crazed, impassioned reaction to the hunger rising between them. And it ignited something in him, fed some starved and aching part of his soul.
Yeah, he wanted her, like mad. But she wanted him too, with the same fervor.
Though it nearly killed him, he lifted his head and broke the kiss. “Are you sure you’re sober?” he murmured in a low rumble.
Her tongue shot out and dabbed her lips. “As a judge.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “I know some judges…”
“Yes. I’m sober.” Excellent. And then she said something that made his head spin, made heat snarl through him, made his eyes cross. “Do you have protection?”
Fuck! Did he?
Desperately, he tried to think. It had been a long time since he’d needed it. He fumbled in his pocket for his wallet and flipped it open. Relief flooded him when he saw a foil packet tucked into the back. One condom. One.
“Yeah.” He pulled it out and let the wallet fall to the floor.
“Oh, thank God.” She nestled closer. Her lips nuzzled his neck, sending shimmers of sensation straight down to his balls. She nibbled his chin. “I love your scruff.”
“Do you?” He rubbed his cheek against hers and she moaned.
“Yeah.”
“You like it a little rough?”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. He knew it. Somehow he knew it. The flame in his gut licked higher. He worked his way to the soft skin of her neck; her fragrance enthralled him, enticed him, inflamed him. He couldn’t help but nip.
Her response was immediate and savage. She tossed back her head, pressed against his aching cock and yanked on his hair.
Something within him broke. It might have been his self-control—if he’d even had any with her. He reared back and locked gazes with her, staring into her soul. And then he did what he’d been dreaming about all night, all morning, ever since he’d set eyes on her. He molded her breast and—Jesus.
Soft and full and firm. They made his mouth water.
When he squeezed and closed his fingers on her nipple, her nostrils flared. She made a little sound that might have been a whimper. It awoke the predator within him.
“Get on the bed.”
It was hardly a bed, more of a cot, and hardly what he would have wanted for this, their first encounter, but hell, i
t was what it was. At his harsh command, her lashes flittered, speaking to him in a language he knew well.
Yeah. She did like it a little rough. And she liked manly men. He knew what that meant. Knew what she wanted. And fuck, if it wasn’t what he wanted too.
The realization railed him as she skittered to the bed and sat primly on the edge, her hands folded. Her eyes intent on him.
“Take off your shirt.” It took everything in him to stand there, a foot away from her, and watch as she removed the thin cotton barrier. His knees locked when she revealed her breasts, magnificent and full and cradled in black lace. He swallowed heavily.
He didn’t know if he could do it.
He didn’t know if he had the self-discipline to play the game she wanted. He resolved himself to try. “Now the jeans.”
Her throat worked as she unsnapped them and slipped them off, baring herself until she stood before him in panties and a bra. Her skin was milky white and soft. Her hips were lush, her thighs long, and her ass was… Hell, it stole his breath.
Unable to resist, he stepped closer and skimmed a palm down her arm. She shivered at his touch, but said nothing. Gently, he arranged the fall of her hair over her shoulder and then he drew his knuckles over her breasts. When he hit a nipple, she groaned.
“God,” she whispered.
He intended to tease her, to explore every fucking inch of her body in excruciating detail with his hands and mouth, but she derailed his intent. She set her hand on his chest and scoured him again with her nails. When she hit his nipple, a bolt of electricity shot through him and burned his restraint to a crisp.
And then she yanked on his tee shirt. “Off.” Yeah. A command of her own. He liked it. In seconds, the shirt was in a pile on the floor and her hands were all over him. He loved it. He loved the feel of her touch on his skin, riffling through his chest hair, testing the girth of his biceps. While she explored him, he fumbled with the clasp of her bra, but his fingers were numb, so in the end she had to undo it.
He nearly lost consciousness when her breasts tumbled out. So fucking perfect.
He seized one and tasted it, drawing the swollen nipple into his mouth. She hissed a breath and held him there with a ruthless grip. He had to break away. He had to taste the other. While he did, while he languished there in a pillowy heaven, she fumbled with the snap to his jeans. It was unfortunate, because she inadvertently brushed his cock—and then she did it advertently, and he nearly lost all control.