She realized he was right. Being alone didn’t scare her. At least when she was alone, she was with someone she could trust. But being broke was a problem, especially with her automotive issues.
She’d sworn she wouldn’t trust a man again, and she’d made that vow in a moment of clear rationality. A moment when Chase wasn’t sitting right beside her, the warm patch on her leg lingering after the touch of his hand. Her impulse was to trust him. Her impulse was to lean toward him, let him touch her again—but that would be surrender. She wondered if he could follow the complicated ribbon of her thoughts, unspooling and tangling, snarling into knots.
“I shouldn’t. I can get a cash advance and get out of town before they track me. I’ll go to Denver.”
He went to the window, staring out at the parking lot. “Lacey, if you go, I won’t know where you are. I won’t know if you’re alive or dead, if you’re safe or if they found you. I have to do more than that for you.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“Look, a week ago you begged me for a place to stay,” he said. “I don’t get it. You would have jumped at the chance then.”
“I never begged for anything. And that was before I got to know you.”
“You always knew me.”
“No.” She shook her head. This was one thing she was sure of. “I knew the old Chase,” she said. “That sweet, awkward kid back in high school.”
“I’m still that kid,” he said. “Still awkward.”
She looked him up and down. He was wrong. He was no kid, and there was nothing awkward about the way he stood, feet planted, arms crossed over his chest. She scanned his jaw, stubbled with a day’s unshaven beard, and the way his arms swelled from the sleeves of his T-shirt. His jeans, the worn denim at the fly emphasizing the decidedly un-kid-like developments that had taken place since she’d known him before. Suddenly, the room seemed smaller and hotter, and she realized she was staring at his crotch. She flicked her gaze to his face and felt a blush warming her chest and cheeks.
This was a whole new kind of awkward.
He sat down beside her and put one arm around her shoulders. Next thing she knew, his hand was on her thigh again and his face was close to hers.
“You need help, Lacey. There’s no shame in that.”
She stiffened at his touch, sitting rigid against him, but he just pulled her closer and rocked slightly from side to side in a soothing, rhythmic motion. She couldn’t help laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Don’t worry, Lace. Trust me. Let me help.”
“I’m not worried.” She relaxed just the slightest bit as he patted her shoulder. “I’m just sad. I don’t want to leave. Pam and I are making friends. I never really had a girlfriend before.” She sighed. “Not a real one.” She pressed her cheek against his chest. “You must think I’m pathetic. That I never had a girlfriend before when I had all that money.”
“Money isn’t everything.” He brushed his lips against the top of her head. “I don’t think you had a chance.”
“I had one.” She put her arms around his waist and gave in to his embrace. “Everybody does. I just didn’t take it.”
“This is a chance, Lacey. Take it. Come to the ranch.”
She didn’t want to depend on him—but maybe she really could help. He was a man living alone. It would be nice for him to have someone to cook and clean, someone to come home to. She’d make herself useful, just like she had for Trent—cooking, cleaning, being supportive. She’d even do some ranch work. It would be fun.
And as long as she stayed out of his bedroom, it would be safe.
“All right. I’ll go. But only as an employee. No hanky-panky with the boss.” She took his hand and set it firmly in his own lap. “Chase, last night was—well, it was good.”
He’d been staring down at his hand, but now his gaze angled up toward hers, and he smiled. “Good?”
“Better than good. But if I go stay with you, and we keep—you know.” She waved her hand in a gesture that joined his body to hers. “If we keep doing that, I’ll end up falling into another relationship. Depending on you.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“But I do. If we’re ever going to have a chance, I have to be on my own for a while. You know, I’ve never had my own place. My own job. My own life. I need to do that.” She sighed. “I’ll stay for a few days. But let’s cool it, okay?”
Chase nodded his agreement, but somehow the atmosphere in the room didn’t feel the slightest bit cool. It felt warm—warm with promises of tomorrow, with memories of the night before, and with his presence right there, right now.
***
Chase squelched a series of inappropriate reactions to the idea of Lacey coming to the ranch. He ran through elation, excitement, and anticipation, settling on urgency as an appropriate response. He was just keeping her safe. Even if Wade had found her in Grady, he wasn’t likely to find the ranch. Looking north from town, all you could see were miles and miles of vacant ground. The only relief from the interminable isolation was an occasional rock and a faint line of blue mountains bordering the horizon in the distance.
And anyone coming to the ranch had to pass Galt’s place first, which meant crossing acres of scrub and near-desert on dusty dirt roads. Galt’s land was so bleak and worn-out, most people would be clinically depressed by the time they made it to Chase’s.
But lonesome was how he liked it. In fact, if it had been anyone but Lacey, he would have regretted having to share his solitude. Krystal had proven that a woman would just be in the way.
But Lacey? That was different. A thousand unlikely scenarios leaped to mind. She’d fall in love with the place. She’d fall into his bed. She’d fall in love with him and stay forever.
That would make him happy. Really happy, for the first time in years.
Or would it?
They could only rehash the old days for so long, and once that was done, they’d have nothing to talk about. She wouldn’t want to talk about crops and cattle, and he wouldn’t want to talk about clothes and whatever else women like Lacey were interested in.
The thought rebounded, bouncing back to what he wanted to believe. They didn’t really need to talk, did they? They hadn’t talked last night, and they’d communicated just fine.
She startled him out of his thoughts by jerking to her feet. “I need to pack. I’ll be ready in a minute.” She bent over the bed, folding a pink flowered shirt and a pair of jeans.
Good. She had jeans. Appropriate ranch wear. Her cotton pants looked nice, but the jeans would skim her curves and stretch when she moved. They’d be harder to get off, though.
He closed his eyes tight, just for a moment, trying to change his way of thinking. Lacey wanted him to cool it, and he needed to respect that.
She bent to lift her suitcase off the floor, and he shoved off the wall.
“I’ll get that.”
The two of them almost knocked heads as he bent down beside her and grabbed the handle. She looked up, startled, and for a moment, her wide eyes met his. A bolt of attraction and lust rocketed straight to his groin, and he stepped back, almost knocking her down as he lifted the suitcase. It tilted and dumped its contents onto the floor.
“Sorry.” He knelt to gather the spilled clothes, grabbing a handful of silky undergarments that slipped through his fingers as he lifted them to the bed. They fell onto the bed and slid to the floor in a flowered, polka-dotted, lace-bedecked mass.
“I can get them.” Lacey ducked down to get the clothes, and he backed away, unwilling to let her kneel at his feet. He stood awkwardly against the wall and tried to concentrate on the splotchy painting of a Spanish matador that hung over the bed. The guy was flailing around with a red cape and wore a desperate expression on his mustachioed face. Chase could identify with the guy. Trying to control his own libido in Lacey’s presence was like trying to master a charging bull with nothing but a pair of red silk panties.
Chapter 24
Shutting the suitcase, Lacey stared at it a moment, then flicked the clasps open again and frowned down at the contents.
“I forgot. I have to get some stuff from the bathroom.”
She stepped toward Chase, and he realized he was blocking her in, trapping her between the bed and the cheaply paneled wall.
“Sorry.” He backed up and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away from her so she wouldn’t feel threatened.
She stepped into the bathroom and swung the door almost closed. He could hear her in there, rattling stuff around, and his gaze fell on the suitcase and focused on a scrap of silk that flowed out of the side like water and pooled on the bed. It looked like a slip, or maybe a nightgown. He took a step toward the bed, wondering what it would look like draping softly from Lacey’s breasts, what it would feel like between his fingers.
He sat down on the end of the bed and glanced at the bathroom door again. He could still hear her rattling around, apparently pitching toiletries into a bag or something. He shifted slightly, moving closer to the suitcase, and put out his hand to touch the puddle of silk.
Soft. He pinched a fold between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the fabric slide against itself. There was something so feminine about the feel of silk. He grabbed a handful of the material and closed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes flew open to see her standing in front of him, arms folded. Looking down at his lap, he realized he was getting pretty excited about the nightgown. He’d pulled the thing out of the suitcase and held it in his lap.
Good thing too.
“Nothing.” He shoved it back into the suitcase. “I just—nothing. I just—it was falling out of the suitcase, and I went to put it back in and it just—just wound up in my lap somehow.” He flushed, realizing how stupid that sounded.
“Chase.” She stuffed the last of her supplies into her suitcase, then whipped the nightgown out of his hands and stuffed it inside. Pressing down on the top, she skimmed the zipper around the edges. “Don’t. I can’t…”
He lifted his hand and put a finger to her lips, stopping her words. She widened her eyes, and time stopped.
Just stopped.
People said time slowed down when you were hurt, when you were in danger. They said everything ran in slow motion when fear chilled your blood. For her, time slowed down when Chase touched her, and chilling wasn’t the word for it. She felt her blood warm, heating her chest, her cheeks, but especially her lips. They felt hot and swollen where his finger rested, and she felt the rasp of his calloused finger against the pillowy cushion of her mouth. She took a breath to speak, but that would have meant moving her lips and intensifying the sensation, so she simply stared.
Big mistake. There it was again, the heart of him glowing in those dark eyes.
She jerked her head backward, and time ground slowly back into motion. Chase lowered his hand and set it on her waist. She stared down at it, barely able to hear him over an ominous rushing in her ears. Closing her eyes, she felt all the steel in her spine go soft as she leaned in and kissed him.
Oh, she hadn’t meant to do this, but it felt so good. His mouth was hard and firm as he tensed in surprise, but then she felt his arm sweep around her, and they were rolling, falling onto the bed in a surrender that felt mutual. They rolled over until he was the one prostrate on the mattress and she was on top, in control, straddling his hips and kissing his lips, his chin, the angle of his jaw that had hardened and defined itself in the years they’d been apart. She flicked her tongue in his ear and moved up to kiss his eyebrows, his eyelids, and then back to his lips. He let out a quick breath as she ran one hand over his chest, pausing when she hit the flat circle of his nipple and stroking down his ribs to lay a palm on the flat of his stomach. His hips pulsed, but she tensed and tightened her thighs, holding him down. He’d have what she wanted to give—nothing more.
This was not surrender.
***
Chase flexed his muscles and felt Lacey’s thighs tighten against him. He could easily throw her off, push her down, master her, but that wasn’t what he wanted.
What he wanted was to see what she’d do next. She was holding him down, her palms pressing into his shoulders, her lips moving back up to his as her hand gripped his T-shirt and gathered the cloth in her fist.
Lacey had always been all dimples and sweetness, her flirty smiles hinting that a man could have whatever he wanted from her, but this wasn’t the old Lacey. This was a new woman. A stronger one. He’d have thought fear would make her tremble, make her needier and softer, but instead it seemed to have given her the courage to ask for what she wanted.
She thrust her tongue in his mouth and jerked his T-shirt up to expose his chest. Hell, she wasn’t asking for anything. She was taking it.
And he was giving. He didn’t mind surrendering to her demands, as long as those demands involved licking and sucking and thrusting in a kiss that echoed what they’d shared the night before. He flexed his hips and felt her thighs spread to let him press against her, and the next thing he knew, she was tearing at his belt and the snap of his jeans, fumbling with his zipper. Tugging his Wranglers down his hips, she hauled them off and tossed them on the floor.
Oh, God, if she didn’t touch him, he’d come right now. Her hand rose to his chest and she held him down while her lips slid from his mouth to the column of his throat to his chest. She kissed her way from one side to the other, her tongue flipping over one flat nipple, then the other, then licking its way down the faint trail of hair that flecked his abs and led closer… closer… oh, please. Closer.
When she flicked her tongue and closed her lips around him, he bucked hard against her, clenching his teeth to keep from bucking them both off the bed. He tried to think of something that would keep him from losing it before she even started. Reaching down, he plowed his fingers into her hair, sweeping the hanging curtain up so he could see her lashes lying dark against her pale cheeks. She took him deeper and opened her eyes, and he gasped and tried to pull away. The sensation was one thing; the frank intimacy of her gaze another. He couldn’t hold himself back another moment if she watched him, but she wasn’t giving in. Her gaze met his with a challenge, a demand, and he didn’t have any choice but to submit.
Damn. He’d known she was sweet. He’d known she was sexy. But he’d never really thought of Lacey as someone who was as willing to take as she was to give. He tilted his chin up and stared at the ceiling, clenching his jaw to keep from losing it.
“Lacey,” he said. “Please.”
He felt suddenly cold as her lips let him go. “What?”
Well, he might as well ask.
“Take your clothes off.”
She went still, and he opened his eyes. Had he ruined the moment by telling her what to do?
She was watching him, considering.
“Please,” he said again.
She relaxed, and a slow smile spread across her face.
“Okay. But don’t move.” She touched him with one cautious finger, and he almost lost it. “Not one move.”
She scrambled off him and shucked off her shirt, then flicked open the clasp of her bra, letting her breasts spill out. The nipples were swollen and peaked, and his fingers clenched at the thought of reaching up and letting her flesh fill his palms. But Lacey was in charge and he had the feeling she needed to stay that way. What was happening here went way beyond sex in a motel room. Lacey was redefining herself.
“Stay right there,” she whispered, flicking open the button at her waist.
He went perfectly still, not moving a muscle as she peeled off her pants and stood before him in a scrap of lace that almost passed for panties. Tugging down one side, she bit her lower lip and looked down at him, her eyes flicking downward as she took in her obviously appreciative audience. The next thing he knew, she was naked on top of him, straddling him again, her breasts brushing his chest. He started to reach for them, and she sat up, clenching her thighs around
his and covering her nipples with her hands.
“No touching,” she said.
He nodded. That was about all he could do. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d let out some embarrassing masculine grunt of need and frustration.
She moved her hands down to cup her breasts and squeezed them together like an offering. He couldn’t help flexing his hands, but he kept them at his sides and watched as she swept her hands up and pinched the rosy tips between her fingers, letting her lashes drift almost shut while she squeezed and tugged and watched him lick his lips in frustration as her fingers did everything he wanted to do—pinching, squeezing, stroking. He couldn’t control himself another second. Letting out the desperate groan he’d been holding back, he lifted his hands, then remembered her words and clenched his fists, dropping them to his sides again. He closed his eyes. He had to, so he could resist reaching up to touch her while his pelvis tensed and ached with need.
“Please, Lacey. Please. Just—please.”
Rising up to her knees, she reached down and gripped him in one hand while she knelt above him, her damp curls inches away. He watched, mesmerized, as she lowered herself onto him, the moist bead at the tip of his cock meeting the slick wet heart of her for just a heartbeat before she tensed her thighs and lifted herself away. Slowly, she lowered herself again and let him slip just inside her before she pulled away again. He knew she was watching his face while he watched her slide onto him, over and over, further each time until he was deep inside her.
He felt her muscles tense and flex, and he grabbed her hips, helping her rise when she wanted to but letting her slide onto him at her own pace, feeling her warmth slip around him like a slick, hot sheath that tightened and tensed before she fell forward onto his chest and let out a shuddering, heaving breath of relief and satisfaction and everything but surrender.
Chapter 25
Lacey blinked, feeling her lashes brush the faint stubble on Chase’s jaw. Her head was nestled in the curve between his shoulder and neck, and his arm held her curled against him. His palm cupped the crest of her hip, and his fingers splayed across the soft skin that dipped toward her stomach.
Tall, Dark and Cowboy Page 16
