Texas Sizzle

by Lori Wilde

  “Harder, harder,” she begged.

  If that’s what she wanted, then that’s what he would give her. His goddess. He slammed into her with more force than he thought possible, lifting her up with each thrust.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chanted. “Abel, Abel, Abel.”

  “Tell me what you want.” He kept driving into her. “Is this what you want?”

  “More, more...” came her hoarse gasp.

  He was terrified he was going to disappoint her. That he was going to come before she got her orgasm. He was too close. If he kept on this way he was going to lose it. He had to do something to hurry up her orgasm.

  Still holding on to her with one hand, he slipped his other hand down and eased his fingers over her mound until he found what he was looking for.

  The minute he touched her clit he felt her inner muscles tighten around him, heard her rugged intake of air. “Yeah, sunshine, you like that?”

  She couldn’t answer, only moan and nod.

  “That’s right.” He kept thrusting, pushing hard while his finger massaged her swollen little nub. “That’s right.”

  He’d never done this with anyone. Been so aggressive while at the same time so tender. She brought out the beast in him, but she was the lion tamer, cracking her whip.

  She opened up new worlds for him. When he was with her, his neurons fired differently, making new pathways in his brain. She was uncharted territory, pushing him to the limits of his endurance.

  Poppy said a very naughty word that lit him up inside.

  Abel didn’t need any more urging than that. He was on it. Giving her what she begged him for. Utter release. He let go of everything—his thoughts, his fears, his embarrassment.

  Abel Black let down his guard. Let her in. Her body consumed his, pulling him in deeper and deeper and deeper until he knew there was no getting out of this. He was in this up to the hilt and he didn’t want to be anywhere else on the planet. He was inside Poppy St. John and there wasn’t anything that felt better.

  Her hot, slick hands were still on his balls, tugging gently, causing them to pull up tight against his body. His hand was still on her, strumming purposefully. He was buried inside of her, grunting and grappling and feeling every inch of her. Knowing that this was the place he belonged forever and always. Poppy.

  “Abel,” she whimpered.

  It happened then.

  In a crack of a second.

  Both of them breaking together like ocean waves. He was a surfer, and she was the tunnel. He was in her and she was around him and they were one, riding together in a glorious, indescribable shoot-out. His cock jerked.

  Her body collapsed against his. They were panting and soaking wet.

  He tightened his grip around her waist and slowly, they sank down to the bottom of the shower, the water—gone cold now—beating softly against their heated skin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Poppy woke up after the best sex of her life in a total panic. Following their escapade in the shower, they’d made love again. This time in the soft bed, slow and gentle and for a very long time, just as Abel had promised.

  She’d finally found a man who kept his promises. Poppy sighed as her chest tightened. Be careful.

  Abel lay on his stomach in her bed, his arms thrown across her waist, his face buried in the pillow. Just looking at him made her heart skip erratically.

  What in the hell have you done?

  She’d sworn to herself that she was not going to sleep with him this soon. That this time she was going to take things slow, not jump headlong into a relationship with a man she did not really know and poof! Look what she’d done.

  This was a disaster.

  She lay in the weak light of dawn, staring at the ceiling, her body achy in all the right places, her brain working overtime trying to find a way out of this. God, did she not possess one ounce of self-control? When he’d shown up on her doorstep, soaked to the skin, looking wild and ravenous, her knees had almost buckled.

  And when he’d clamped his palms around her face and kissed her like it was the end of the world, hell, she’d been noodle soup. Who could have resisted such a fierce seduction from such a quiet man? She’d reduced him to beastly behavior, and she’d thrilled in her power.

  That fact was disturbing in and of itself. Never mind that she was having all kinds of feelings she couldn’t define. This was scary stuff and she had to find a way out of it.

  A coyote would gnaw its leg off.

  What are you so afraid of? A clear voice in the back of her mind asked the question, but she had no rational answer. Honestly, she was scared he could be The One. That this could be right. That he, that she...

  She was afraid to express what she really wanted. She was afraid to hope.

  So many times in her life she’d gotten her hopes up, only to have them dashed. She’d loved that town in New Mexico, where her mother had moved in with a guy who’d driven a purple hearse.

  She’d made friends. They’d lived in a bungalow at the base of a mountain. She’d planned on learning to ski. Then before the first good snow, her mother had said she had restless feet. The guy who drove the hearse was too clingy. She needed air or she couldn’t breathe. She’d bought a ragtag car from a used car lot, stuck Poppy in the back seat, and taken off at five o’clock in the morning before the hearse guy woke up.

  Running again. From what or why Poppy never knew for sure. But she remembered the wretched disappointment of leaving behind a place she’d started to love. Yet again.

  Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped hoping.

  Sure, she’d grown up, forgiven her mother, let go of the past. But part of it was still with her. The part where she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. The part of her that never really believed in anything permanent because nothing was permanent so you’d best live in the moment, live for the moment. Which was what she’d done last night.

  And now...

  She was left with the consequences. A man in her bed. A man she wanted to keep forever. A man she knew nothing about.

  Damn, Poppy, you did it again.

  Guilt stole over her. Why couldn’t she control herself? Why was she so impulsive? Why did she have to feel so intensely?

  The big question was what was she going to do about Abel? In her experience, it was only after you slept with them that guys got truly invested in you. They started expecting things. Things she didn’t have the power to give. Not now. Not yet. Abel was too soon. He was too much man for her.

  There it was. The real reason. In the past she’d been more likely to hook up with man-boys, the kind of guys who hadn’t grown up yet. Some of them never would. Guys who offered her nothing more than a good time. Or exciting bad boys like Keith who’d made her blood rev. But she’d never been with a serious guy. A responsible man who honored his commitments. If after sleeping with her, Abel felt committed to her, well... that was a problem because she certainly wasn’t ready to commit to him.

  Okay, she knew she was waffling. And panicking. Yes, she was panicking. She kept thinking about coyotes and paw-gnawing. She had to make sure he understood that this was a one-time thing. That while it had been fun, it really shouldn’t happen again. That she really couldn’t be in love with him because she’d only known him, what?

  Ten days?

  Why is that? asked the clear voice she kept trying to bury. Why are you trying to break things off with the first good man you’ve ever been with?

  Fine. All right. She’d admit it. She was into self-sabotage as surely as her mother had been. But Mom had met Mike, and everything had turned around for them. They’d gotten settled. Finally had a home. Could Abel be her Mike?

  What precisely was she running from? Why wasn’t the fact that Abel was in her bed a good thing?

  “Poppy?”

  Oh, hell, he was awake, and she hadn’t gotten anything sorted out.

  “You awake?” he asked.

  She could pretend to be
asleep and hope he would leave, but he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her closer as he turned over.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “Morning,” he murmured and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Hey!” she protested. “You have minty breath. When did you get up to brush your teeth?”

  He had the good manners to look guilty. “A few minutes ago, while you were still sleeping. You had a brand-new toothbrush in your bathroom drawer. Is it okay that I used it?”

  “No fair. You’ve got a distinct advantage over me.”

  “I couldn’t risk you kicking me out of bed over morning breath.”

  “What’s going to keep you from kicking me out of bed over morning breath?”

  “For one thing, it’s your bed,” he said, angling his mouth down to hers. “For another, you don’t have morning breath.”

  “You are such a liar but keep it up.”

  “Last night was—you were—well, amazing doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  “Right back at you, big guy.”

  He nuzzled close to her and kissed her neck. “You drive me insane, woman. And usually, I’ve got a pretty good grip on my self-control. But you... but you... wow.” Wow, indeed.

  “Um...” she said. “I think it might be a good idea if we had a talk.”

  “Okay.” His tongue was doing crazy things to her.

  She pushed her head down, trying to wriggle away. “Before we get involved in any more of that, we need to have a talk.”

  He pulled back. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, um... not really. I just wanted to clear the air, get something straight.”

  “Okay.” He propped himself up against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. That incredible chest that made her want to bite her lip it was so yummy. “Let’s talk.”

  “I really enjoyed last night,” she said. “Don’t think I didn’t enjoy it. The sex was great, the best. I came like a Fourth of July rocket.”

  He smiled. God, he was so gorgeous when he smiled. She wished he would stop smiling. “Me, too.”

  She moistened her lips. He looked so earnest. She wanted to tell him that this was a one-time thing, but she just couldn’t make her mouth form the words. Instead, she looked into his eyes and said, “Are you a breakfast eater?”

  #

  While Poppy bustled around her kitchen whipping up breakfast—he’d offered to help but she’d said the space was too small and shooed him out—Abel came back down to reality.

  Last night had been the most amazing night of his life and it was all because of Poppy. But, in the process, he’d forgotten who he was and what he’d been sent to do. Higgins was still expecting him to tap her cell phone.

  Her purse hung from the doorknob in the hallway. It was unzipped and he could see her cell tucked into the corner. This was his chance to do his job.

  “Coffee?” Poppy called from the kitchen.

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll brew some up. I’m more of a smoothie girl, myself, but I keep coffee in the house for when my friends come over.”

  “Sounds good.” He pulled the listening device from the pocket of his jeans and slunk toward her purse. He felt like a petty thief betraying her trust like this, and almost pivoted on his heel, marched into the kitchen, and told her everything.

  But what if she was involved with Barksdale?

  He didn’t believe it. Not in his heart, but the Rangers had trained his head. He felt torn in two. How could his allegiances be so equal? On the one hand was his career. On the other was a woman he’d known just a little over a week. How was it possible that her opinion of him meant as much as his job?

  Before he could back out, he plunged his hand into her purse and retrieved the cell phone. He darted a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t standing behind him, then dismantled the phone, inserted the device Higgins had given him, and put it back together within a couple of furtive minutes. Basic Cell Phone Bugging 101. Get in, get out, get it done.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  He slipped the cell phone back into her purse and straightened.

  “How do you take your coffee?” she asked, eyeing him.

  “Hot and black.”

  She poured the coffee, passed him the cup, and then slid two plates of food onto the bistro table in the small dining nook.

  Abel took a seat across from her and looked down at his food. “What is this?”

  “Waffles with peanut butter with sausage. You’ve never had it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s delicious. It’s my favorite breakfast.”

  There it was. The very thing that Kirsten said didn’t mix. Peanut butter spread over a waffle and topped with sliced sausage patties, maple syrup on the side.

  He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You never know what strange combination is going to be just perfect together,” he said, and then ate the best darned breakfast he’d ever tasted.

  #

  After helping Poppy with the dishes, Abel went back to his apartment to set up the wiretap on phone calls.

  He was sitting on the stool in front of the telescope, staring at her place and thinking about just how spectacular last night had been when the listening device snapped on and he was connected to Poppy’s outgoing cell phone call.

  Rousing himself, he tensed, listening.

  “Zoey, I’ve done it again.”

  Abel grabbed Poppy’s dossier, flipped to the section on contacts, and found the name Zoey Sharp. She was Poppy’s best friend. Now here was proof why he shouldn’t be feeling the things he was feeling for Poppy. He didn’t even know her best friend’s name. How could he be falling in love with a woman when he didn’t even know her best friend’s name?

  “Done what?” Zoey asked.

  “Hopped into bed too quickly with a guy.”

  “Poppy! I thought you had a moratorium on sex.”

  “Zoey, this is different. I can’t describe it. Abel is the most stable, kind, understanding man that I have ever met. Not to mention he’s so good-looking and the best lover I’ve ever had.”

  Abel’s chest puffed out with pride. So, he wasn’t the only one who’d thought the sex had been super special.

  She went on for several minutes, telling her friend about the rained-out wagon train and how Abel had come to her apartment in the middle of the night.

  “Sounds like a wild time,” Zoey said.

  “There’s just one thing that worries me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s got money.”

  “You mean he’s rich?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?”

  “I don’t fit into that world. The charity wagon train was a real eye-opener. He hobnobs with celebrities. That’s just not my lifestyle. Can you see me fitting in with that?”

  “You could if you wanted to.”

  “I could do it for him. If that’s what he wanted.”

  No, no, no, Abel thought. He loved Poppy because she was so certain about who she was. She didn’t put on airs. She didn’t pull punches. She wasn’t a phony. She didn’t use people. He loved all those things about her.

  “And, Zoey, I trust him. Really trust him. He’s not like any of the others.”

  “Oh, honey, I do so hope you’re right. You deserve to have a great guy for once.”

  “I do, don’t I?” Poppy laughed.

  Sunshine. She was always filled with sunshine.

  Guilt pushed out the pride and Abel was left knowing he was going to hurt her, disappoint her, and betray her trust.

  He knew then that he had to tell her who he was. What he’d done. Then he would beg and plead for her understanding. He wasn’t going to tell Captain Higgins his plan. He’d already learned it was easier to get forgiveness than permission. His gut was telling him what he had to do, and he was going to follow it. Orders or no orders.

  Afte
r Poppy ended her phone call with her friend, Abel got out his cell phone and texted her. Dinner 2nite? Then he wrote in the name of the nicest restaurant in town.

  A minute later, she texted back. Luv 2.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The hostess at Maison d’Ocean showed them to a romantic table on the back deck overlooking the ocean. White twinkle lights lit up the palm trees and a gentle breeze had Poppy pulling her silk wrap up on her shoulders.

  After she’d looked up the restaurant on Google and saw how exclusive and expensive it was, she’d gone through her closet in search of something chic enough for the place. She’d come up with a blue silk dress and matching pashmina she’d worn to a wedding a few years back and added a pair of strappy matching sandals. In the jewelry department, the only expensive piece she owned was the platinum locket that Keith had given her. She’d called her hairdresser for an emergency appointment, and she’d even splurged on a facial and manicure. Between the cowgirl outfit she’d bought for the wagon train and her pampering, she was definitely eating ramen for the rest of the summer.

  But damn if it wasn’t worth it.

  Abel held out her chair for her and she sat, smiling inwardly to herself. The man was chivalrous. She had to give him that.

  He settled in across from her. His lips were angular and firm, very masculine. He caught her stare and one corner of his mouth lifted up in a surprisingly rakish grin that changed his face from determined hard-ass to charming rebel without a care. She caught her breath. What had caused the shift? Was it her?

  She noticed his gaze tracked the locket that lay nestled perfectly in the V of her cleavage. A smile lit his eyes.

  “Pretty locket,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She reached up to finger it. The locket was gorgeous, and she wasn’t about to tell him that another man had given it to her.

  “It looks beautiful on you. You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “I’m not, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

  “You are freaking gorgeous. The way you move...” He hissed in a breath as if he had just been burned.

  “You are the best-looking man I’ve ever dated,” she confessed. “Not that we’re dating or anything.”