“I can see you up there, doing nothing,” she said. “Just like you can see me!”
She lifted her arms to shut the window, revealing that the panties showed plenty of skin in the spaces between their lacy daisies. The sash jammed and she continued to fume while she struggled with it. Brady wished he could take home the work of art framed by the window trim and hang it in his bedroom.
She caught him looking and lowered her arms. “Pervert.”
“If I wasn’t one before, I am now.” Brady winked and pointed the hammer her way. “Nice panties.”
She gave the sash a final, useless tug and spun around, covering herself with her hands. Grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed, she tossed it around her shoulders and reached for the top of the window again. Naturally, the blanket slipped to the floor.
Brady wasn’t one for strip clubs, but he’d been to a couple bachelor parties for cowboys who went for that kind of thing, and he’d never seen a strip show that came close to this one.
She scooped up the blanket and clutched it to her chest. “You could at least have the decency to get down now that I caught you.”
“Caught me doing what?”
“Playing Peeping Tom.” She gestured wildly toward the barn. “Why else would you be up there, unless you’re trying to get a look at me in my skivvies?”
He held up the hammer and the box of nails. “I’m doing roof repairs. Thought I’d get it done before the sun got too hot, but I figured you were sleeping, so I was waiting a bit.” He couldn’t help grinning. “The skivvies are an unexpected bonus.”
“Oh!” She made a sound that was a cross between rage and surprise, and he swallowed a smile as she tugged at the window again.
“I could fix that window too.”
“No! I told you. I don’t. Want. Any. Help.” Each word was punctuated with a tug at the window sash. On the last word, her hand slipped and she toppled sideways. A loud crash and a smothered yelp told Brady she’d taken a serious fall, but she reappeared at the window seconds later, smoothing her hair as if nothing had happened.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Fine. Just slipped.” She stroked her hair again—a dead giveaway that she was lying. Ditto for the flirtatious fluttering of her lashes. Suze didn’t know how to flirt.
She was probably struggling to stay conscious.
Chapter 42
Suze leaned against the wall beside the window, cussing under her breath. She had been so shocked to see Brady up on the barn roof that she hadn’t used her crutches to get to the window. In fact, she’d rocketed out of bed with no regard for her injuries or her outfit. She’d probably set back her recovery by two weeks in the process.
Besides that, she’d made an absolute ass of herself. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Brady might be repairing the barn roof. Sure, it needed it, but it was the middle of July. Between the high temperatures, the unrelenting sunshine, and the high winds, he’d probably shortened his life just by climbing the ladder. And here she was, worrying about her recovery and her modesty.
She still hadn’t managed to pull the window down. She shot the stubborn sash a dirty look and decided to blame it for all her troubles. She leaned over to peek out the window.
Brady’s truck was still in the drive, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. He was probably in the barn or out back with the horses.
Good. She’d teach that danged window a lesson. Reaching up, she pulled with all her might, practically hanging on the darn thing. It slammed shut so hard it shocked her and sent her stumbling backward. Fortunately, something stopped her from falling down. Something warm, that felt suspiciously like a man’s muscular chest.
“I knew you were going to do that.”
Before she could splutter out the cuss words she had locked and loaded, strong hands began kneading her shoulders right where they hurt. She felt the hair on the nape of her neck flutter. He was close. Too close.
She whirled, nearly falling again, but caught herself quickly enough to hang on to her dignity. Unfortunately, what she caught herself on was the cowboy in question.
“You should have warned me that you were going to be up there.”
He looked completely unrepentant. Had Brady ever repented anything in his life?
That morning at your trailer. He regretted oversleeping. He regretted having to make nice when he just wanted to go…
“If I’d warned you, you would’ve told me not to do it.” He calmly reached over and braced his thumbs on her collarbone so he could dig his fingers into the sore spots on either side of her spine. “I’m not going to warn you about every move I make. That would be exhausting.”
“It sure would. You’ve got more moves than Casanova.”
She meant it as an insult, but of course Brady didn’t take it that way.
“That good, huh? Thanks.” He changed his grip, working muscles she didn’t even know she had, and she couldn’t help moaning at the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“You’ve got some moves of your own,” he said. “Like climbing out of bed and walking to the window without your crutches. You okay?”
She nodded, but then Brady looked her in the eye and she shook her head.
“Was that a yes or a no?”
“It was an I don’t know,” she said. “It hurts, but it always hurts. I don’t think it’s any worse than usual.”
“What hurts?”
“My ankle.”
“It shouldn’t hurt that much if you stay off it. It’s in a cast.”
“I know, but the cast feels too small. It’s like it’s swollen in there. It aches and throbs. Sometimes it really, really hurts.”
Somehow, Brady had managed to steer her over to the bed with his impromptu massage. She sat down gratefully.
“Maybe you’re right, and it’s too small,” he said. “Let’s see.”
She expected him to look down at her toes, but instead he bent and hoisted her foot into his lap, nearly pushing her over backward. Resting her elbows on the bed behind her, she thanked the boredom gods for the pedicure she’d given herself the day before. Then she thanked the panty gods that her black lace panties were solid where it mattered.
Brady noticed the pedicure. “Pretty toes.” He gently touched each one in turn. “They don’t look swollen. But it’s hard to tell what’s going on in there. When did you have it checked last?”
She felt the flush starting at the toes he held in his hand, rushing up her body to warm her chest, her throat, her face, her ears.
Brady shook his head, still with that gentle smile. Why had she never seen that smile before? It was sweet. Caring.
“You haven’t been to the doctor, have you?”
She shook her head.
“Wasn’t there an appointment?”
She shrugged.
“Your dad picked you up at the hospital. He’d know when your follow-up visit was scheduled.”
“Probably. But he hasn’t mentioned it.” She shrugged and looked away. “You know how he is.”
She knew the appointment was probably a week ago. Now Brady would insist on tossing her in his pickup and driving like a demon, dragging her into the doctor’s office, making a scene in the waiting room, embarrassing her in front of all the nurses, who’d fall in love with him and think he was all chivalrous and everything and she was an ungrateful witch.
“Earth to Suze,” he said. “You should go to the doctor, you know.”
“I will,” she said. “I’ll ask my dad to take me.”
“Tell him. Tell him I’ll do it if he doesn’t. He’ll hate that.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t believe she was getting off this easy. She was almost disappointed.
Maybe Brady was learning that she’d listen if he offered advice, but resist him till the cows turned blue if he tried to control he
r. “Thanks, Brady. And, um, I’m sorry about…” She waved vaguely out the window. “You know, before.”
He grinned. “Before what?”
“Before you came up here. When you were on the roof, and I was screaming at you.”
“Aw, that was nothing. Besides, it worked out just fine.”
Only then did she remember she was still wearing the outfit she’d been so upset about him seeing. And only then did she notice that he’d leaned back on the bed too, resting one arm behind her head.
And only then did she realize he was going to kiss her.
* * *
Brady couldn’t help himself. He and Suze were practically in bed together, and she was darn near naked. If she had any problem with that, she didn’t act like it. Lies or no lies, he couldn’t look at those bruised-cherry lips another second without kissing her.
Besides, it wasn’t like his lies had hurt her. Speedo was back, and he didn’t seem to have been affected by his brief stay at Cooter’s. So Brady might not have told her about Speedo’s little adventure, but he’d found him, hadn’t he? So it was like it had never happened.
He touched his lips to hers and felt white-hot power shoot from the contact, lighting up every nerve ending in his body. She seemed shocked at first, tensing under his touch, but he put one hand on the bare skin at her waist—the skimpy nightie had gotten hiked up somehow—and did his best to kiss her right.
All thoughts of Speedo, all memory of his deceit, faded away. All he could think of was Suze, warm and sweet and right there. Right there, kissing him back.
He went slow and easy, with moves soft enough to soothe a spooked filly. First he slid his lips across hers in a chaste, caring sort of caress. When that didn’t make her mad, he dared to trace the bottom of that full, bee-stung upper lip with his tongue. Loving Suze was kind of like loving a beautiful but temperamental mare that was eating out of your hand one minute and kicking you in the head the next.
Brady didn’t mind. Heck, he rode wild horses for a living. He liked a little excitement in the bedroom—and in the kitchen and the hallway, and every other room of the house, for that matter. He believed life should be lived, not merely survived. And he was sure Suze felt the same way. You could tell by the way she rode.
“I just about went crazy this past week,” he said. “Being here. Knowing you were just upstairs.”
“You should have come,” she whispered in his ear.
The unintentional double entendre stoked the fire raging inside him.
Careful, careful.
He’d nearly lost it with Suze last time he was here. She lit him up like no other woman ever had, and he’d been teetering on the edge of a cliff when he’d pulled back last time.
So this time, he wasn’t pulling back.
Problem solved.
Chapter 43
He stroked his tongue across the seam of her lips again. When he found the lace border at the top of her panties, he echoed the movement with one finger, running it slowly across and back, across and back. He stroked her lips, stroked her belly, then eased his finger past the elastic on her panties as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Judging by the little kitten sounds she was making, the temperamental mare was in a sweet mood today.
He deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to cradle the back of her head as she rocked her hips, urging him to take his caresses further. But he wanted to go slow, to show his feelings rather than just slaking his lust.
Not that there wasn’t quite a bit of lust to slake. His breath shuddered at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he longed to tug down the lace panties and bury himself to the hilt in her warmth. But he needed to take his time. This was for Suze, not for him.
Patiently, gently, he explored her lips and let his tongue dance a slow, sexy tango with hers. It wasn’t easy to keep his hands from straying further past the black elastic waistband, but he wanted to make sure she was giving herself willingly. Never again would he take her at a moment of weakness. This had to be something she wanted, and wanted badly.
Not until the kitten noises turned to moans did he lower her head to the pillow and kiss her hot and hard. His lips, his tongue, his hands—they all let her know how he wanted to make love to her, and she answered with an unmistakable yes.
He paused and rested on his elbows, looking down at her. She was lying beneath him, her hurt leg hanging off the bed, the rest of her sprawled in centerfold-worthy abandon on the rumpled sheets. The tiny top she wore, with its worn patches over each breast, was sexy enough on its own; now it had slipped off one shoulder and over one breast, draping just low enough to reveal a pink, tight nipple. Meanwhile, the hem had bunched up around her waist, revealing the full glory of her flat belly and lacy underwear.
“What are you looking at, cowboy?” Her voice was throaty and low—an invitation to sex no matter what words she said. Although the fact that the words sounded like something a loose woman in the Wild West would say didn’t hurt. She must have watched enough old movies with her dad to know how the West was really won.
He rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the bed, and considered her question. What was he looking at?
“Not what am I looking at,” he said. “Who.”
He traced the edge of her top, letting his finger ride the wave of one swelling breast before it dipped into the valley in between and rode up the other. She squirmed when he reached her exposed nipple and ran his finger around the areola. He knew his hands were rough and work hardened, so he was gentle as could be.
“With some girls, it’s all about the what,” he said, tugging the top up over her breast despite her efforts to writhe out of it again. “What they’re wearing, what they’re doing. But with you, it’s different.”
“What, you don’t like what I’m wearing?”
“I love what you’re wearing.”
And he could prove it. The zipper of his Wranglers was strained to the breaking point. Taking it slow was starting to hurt, but he wasn’t going to screw this up.
“You could wear anything and I’d feel the same way.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. You could wear a baggy old pair of Bubba overalls with a flour sack underneath and I’d still want to take ’em off.”
She laughed, rocking back on the bed, her long hair hanging down as she threw her head back. Once in a while he managed to catch a glimpse of this Suze, the real woman behind all the insecurities and issues, and it was then that he knew, without a doubt, that she belonged with him. He could make her laugh; he could make her see how extraordinary she was. He could make her feel loved.
But would that just be another deceit? Was he in love with Suze, or in lust?
All he knew was that this felt different. Making love to Suze rocked his world out of its orbit, while making love to other women left it spinning undisturbed.
He knew this little pocket of time probably wouldn’t last. He’d make some wrong move, and she’d be back on the defensive. It really was like taming a wild horse. He had to somehow earn her trust, and there was no way to hurry that process.
But with horses, the ones that were slowest to trust were the ones that loved you the most in the end. Maybe it was that way with women too.
He didn’t know. He’d never found one that didn’t trust him before.
“What if I wore dirty Wranglers and a do-rag?” Her tone was teasing, but he felt his stomach sink as he reached up and touched his head. Yep, the bandanna was still in place. He tugged it off and tossed it toward the window.
“That’s your dog’s fault. He took my hat.”
“You know Dooley’s a shameless reprobate. You shouldn’t let him get near anything you care about. Is your hat okay?”
“Dunno. He still has it.”
“Oh no!” She jerked as if to leap up from th
e bed, but he put a finger to her lips and eased her back down.
“No worries,” he said. “If that hat is the price of admission to this right here, Dooley can have it. Hell, he can have my 3X black beaver Stetson if he wants it.”
She nodded, faking a serious expression. “Okay. I’ll tell him that.”
Brady laughed, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment before kissing again.
“I really do like you, Brady Caine,” Suze said between kisses. “I really do.”
I’ll take that, he thought. I’ll definitely take that.
“What is it you like about me?” he asked. “You know I’m as shameless as Dooley. So why do you like me?”
“You’re a hopeless optimist,” she said. “You believe the best of everybody. Even me.”
“You ought to try it sometime. Believe in yourself.”
“I do. Every time I race,” she said. “I see myself winning, in my head, and it works every time. It’s a big part of my strategy.”
“Then you already know how. You just need to apply the same kind of thinking to your life, that’s all.”
“You don’t get it.” She fell back against the pillows, clearly exhausted. “When I’m racing, I know I can win because it’s happened before. But when it comes to everyday life, I just keep on losing. I’m sorry, but it’s hard to visualize happiness when you’ve never really had it.”
“Which is why you deserve it more than anyone I ever knew.” Brady felt almost fierce. “Just wait. Something will change.”
“See?” she said. “You’re just a glass-half-full kind of guy.”
He traced a slow circle around her areola, and she sucked in a quick breath.
“Right now,” he said, “my glass is overflowing.”
* * *
Suze couldn’t believe this. How had Brady ended up in her bed? If anyone had asked her, she would have sworn it was an accident—but nobody would believe that. How did you get a cowboy off a barn roof and into your bedroom in five minutes flat by accident?
Yell at him, apparently.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was the moment. She’d been bored out of her mind for days, and while that wasn’t a very good excuse for letting Brady back into her bed, she didn’t really care. She was tired of worrying about what she was going to do, how she was going to survive, who would help her. Brady would help her, as long as she was nice to him. And if being nice to him meant satisfying her own naughty needs, who was there to worry about it?
How to Kiss a Cowboy Page 27
