Do Me Right

by Cindi Myers

  "What are you doing?" She giggled, both aroused and tickled by his "no-hands" approach.

  "I'm getting you naked." Except, with his teeth clenched around the zipper, it came out, "I'm gedding oo naketh."

  She shook with laughter, but her mirth gave way to moans of pleasure when he stripped off the pants and the silk thong she wore beneath them and pushed her back onto the blankets. The mouth that had proved so dexterous with a zipper proved just as adept at pleasuring her.

  Lost in a fog of sensation, she was only faintly aware of him stripping off the rest of his own clothes and joining her on the blankets. His fingers took the place of his mouth on her clit, while his mouth returned to her breasts. She writhed against the onslaught of sensation. The erotic combination of warm night air and Kyle's even warmer mouth and hands made her more aware of her own body than she'd ever been before. Had her breasts always felt so full and aching cradled in a man's palms? Had her stomach ever quivered this way before? she wondered as he traced his tongue around the indentation of her navel. Had her thighs ever trembled like this? she thought as he coaxed them farther apart.

  He slid two fingers into her and began to stroke, slow and easy, bringing her to the edge and no further. He raised his head and watched her while his hand continued to work its magic. "Still think this was a bad idea?"

  She shook her head. "No." Right now, she couldn't imagine a more wonderful idea. There was something surreal about being here in this nest of blankets and pillows, out in the open but intimately private, alone in the golden halo of lamplight. This was so...romantic. Like something that would happen in a romance novel or the movies. Not to her.

  "Look up," he said.

  She opened her eyes and stared up at the sky. A thousand pinpricks of light pierced the blackness, and as she watched more appeared, like distant lights twinkling on. And while she was still marveling at the light, Kyle entered her. His face filled her vision and the sensation of him moving in her and over her captured all her senses.

  She reached up and grasped his arms, the muscles like sun-warmed iron beneath her fingers. She wanted to hold on to him, to hold on to this moment, but already it was getting away from her. He'd been too skillful at bringing her to the height of arousal, and now she could only surrender and ride desire to the edge and over. If no stars fell, at least a warm, sparkly sensation filled her, as if she'd somehow swallowed starlight.

  She kept her eyes closed through the hard thrusts of his own climax, his cries of satisfaction ringing in her ears, the glow of the lantern bright against her eyelids. His hands were strong on her shoulders; his thighs clasping and holding her, not forceful but protective. Any other time she would have balked at the idea, but somehow, for now it felt right.

  He lay atop her, his head on her shoulder, his arms keeping most of his weight off her while he remained close. Still connected. She put her arms around him, idly trailing her fingers up and down his spine, feeling the ridge of each vertebra, his skin warm and taut beneath her fingertips. After this night, she thought she might recognize him by touch alone. She remembered the first night they'd been together, when he'd blindfolded her. Had it begun then, her acute awareness of the shape of his muscles, the feel of his skin, the smell of his hair?

  "What are you smiling about?" he asked, his voice muffled against her neck.

  "How do you know I'm smiling?"

  "I can feel your lips curved up where they're pressed against my cheek."

  "Maybe you're imagining things."

  He raised his head and looked down at her, his grin meeting hers. "So what do you think of my outdoor bedroom?"

  "I think it's pretty amazing." She looked up at the stars, unable to stop grinning. This was something she wanted to remember forever. Even when she was old, she'd remember lying here, a goddess in her own secret wilderness.

  7

  THEY LAY SNUGGLED TOGETHER for a long while, saying nothing. Frankly Kyle didn't think he had the strength to move, but there was something to be said for enjoying the feel of skin on skin. He rested his head against Theresa's breast and breathed in deeply of her perfume--no bottled scent but a mixture of leather and ink and feminine flesh that was uniquely her.

  A breeze blew off the lake, sending the lantern flame dancing. Goose pimples puckered on Theresa's arm, and he reached down to pull the quilt up over them."How did you know about this place?" she asked.

  He slid his hand across her stomach and pulled her closer. "Oh, I came across it a while ago."

  "With some other woman?"

  He didn't miss the hard edge in her voice. He'd bet she didn't even realize it was there. If he asked her, he was sure she'd say she wasn't the jealous kind. But there it was, that unspoken resentment that he would have brought another woman to this place to do what they had just done together. Come to think of it, he wouldn't have been too keen on the idea of her being out here with some other man.

  He opened his eyes and managed to lift his head enough to look at her. "I have never brought another woman out here," he said. "Not unless you count my sister."

  The expression on her face made him wish he had a camera. "What were you doing here with your sister?"

  "Oh, you know families. I told her I'd bought some land and she insisted on seeing it."

  She shoved up onto her elbows, effectively removing the very comfortable pillow he'd been enjoying. "You own this place?" She glanced around them, but of course it was too dark to see much of anything.

  "There's nothing much to see," he said. "It's just vacant land. Five acres of scrub oak and cedar."

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  "I'm thinking I'll build a house one day." He shrugged. "Of course, that takes regular income. More than I'm bringing in from the rodeo."

  She lay back down and allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder again. He could almost feel the curiosity humming through her. Women were like that. They couldn't help it. Good thing, too, he guessed. Men weren't good at talking about details on their own, but it felt good sometimes to have a woman draw things out of you.

  He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the stars. His wrist was beginning to ache and he should probably get up and put the cast back on, but he didn't want to move.

  Theresa turned onto her side and rested her hand on his chest. It felt good there, connecting them. "What kind of house would you build?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure," he said. "I'd like a place with some room, but nothing too big. Lots of wood and tile and glass. If I cut a few trees, I should have a good view of the hills. Something light and airy--maybe with one of those open floor plans where the rooms sort of flow into each other. And a big deck out back for barbecues and stuff like that."

  "High ceilings," she said. "And a big master suite with a big bathtub."

  He smiled, picturing her in just such a tub--one big enough for two. "Sounds good," he said. "Now all I need is a job and the money."

  "You'll have those one day. You've got the land. That's a good start."

  "I guess so." He covered her hand with his own, aware of his heart beating against her palm. "My sister didn't think it was so great. In fact, she said I was a fool to waste my money on something I didn't need."

  "Why didn't she think you'd need it?"

  "Because she still thinks I'm going to come live on the ranch with her and her husband."

  "Oh. But even if you agreed to help run the ranch, what's wrong with having your own place?"

  "There are two houses on the ranch. Kristen and her family live in the main house, but I could have the other one. It used to be a bunkhouse, then it was remodeled for a ranch manager to live there. Now it's used as a kind of guesthouse."

  "Two houses." She was silent for a long moment, then added, "Do you know I've never lived in a place that wasn't rented? Even the foster families I was with rented houses or apartments."

  He heard the longing in her voice and thought of her apartment, so feminine and decorated just so. He guessed even
someone as tough and independent as Theresa had a secret longing for a home. Not having that as a kid probably made her want it that much more as an adult. He stroked her hair. "The tattoo shop looks like it's doing pretty well. Couldn't you get a loan and buy a place of your own?"

  "Maybe. I guess.... But the shop is really Zach's. I mean, it's half mine, but I never thought of getting a loan on my half. And things are kind of uncertain now, with the protests and everything...."

  He frowned. "You don't think this nut, Carter, will succeed in shutting things down, do you?"

  "I don't know. I've heard rumors that other businesses are thinking about closing. And times are changing. There are a lot of conservatives in Austin now."

  The worry in her voice made him want to find this Carter character and make him eat dirt. "It's not like you're peddling porn movies or selling dope or anything."

  "To some people I might as well be." She sighed. "Tattoos and piercings are more accepted now than they've ever been, but they're still not mainstream. And for some people, maintaining the status quo or their idea of 'normal' is more important than anything."

  "You know what they say."

  "What's that?"

  "Normal is just a setting on the dryer."

  That surprised a laugh out of her. He smiled and silently congratulated himself on distracting her from her dark mood. No sense brooding over things you couldn't change, after all. Hadn't he told himself that enough times?

  They didn't talk for a while after that, content to lie close together and stare up at the stars. His eyes drifted closed, and he was almost asleep when she said, "You could go back to school and learn a new profession, like Zach."

  He didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed that she was so concerned about his future. On the one hand, it was kind of nice to think that someone else gave a damn. On the other, he hadn't asked her to care, had he? "I'm not too keen on the idea of going back to school," he said. "I didn't like it all that much the first go-round. Besides, I'm almost thirty. I've wasted enough time as it is."

  "Maybe you could do something related to ranching, but not ranching."

  "That was how I got into the rodeo business, remember? What else did you have in mind?"

  "I don't know. Horse-trading?"

  He laughed and hugged her close. "To be a good horse trader, you have to have the ability to bluff. Considering how much I've lost playing poker, I don't think I'd better risk it."

  She was silent for a full minute. He considered drifting off again, but he was awake now, aware of the soft curve of her hip pressed against his side and the warm weight of her breast resting on his arm. Who cared about what he did next year or even next week when the next five minutes held so much promise?

  "I could teach you to do tattoos."

  He suppressed a sigh. She was as bad as his sister. Was it a particularly female trait to try to solve problems by worrying them to death? He rolled onto his side and arranged his leg over hers. With any luck, he could distract her as much as she was distracting him. "You obviously haven't seen me draw. Even my stick people look like mutants."

  Her eyes met his, dark and unreadable in the lantern light, but still they caught and held him. "Then what are you going to do?" she asked.

  He rested his forehead against her cheek and closed his eyes. "Darlin', if I had a good answer to that one, believe me, I'd tell you." He'd certainly pondered the question enough lately--more so since that calf had grounded him. Whatever he ended up doing, he wanted it to be something that was his own--not a job handed down to him by his family or one he fell into because it was easy. He wanted something he could spend the rest of his life at without being bored. A tall order. Maybe an impossible one. "There's always dancing with Chippendales."

  She punched him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A bunch of women screaming for you to take it off."

  "There's only one woman I want screaming for me now." He levered himself over her, supporting himself with his elbows on either side of her shoulders while he leaned down to kiss her.

  She kissed back, arching her body to his. His response was immediate and strong. The urgency of his need for her again so soon surprised him. That calf might have messed up his life in a lot of ways, but he ought to thank the cantankerous beast for this. It had been a long time since he'd met a woman who could turn him on the way Theresa did.

  The way things were going between them, he was starting to wish for a long, slow recovery.

  THE PROTESTORS WERE OUT IN full force on Sixth Street the next morning. "What's going on?" Theresa asked as she tried to push past a clot of people in front of Esther's Follies comedy show.

  "Mr. Carter's called a press conference," a young man volunteered. He stood on tiptoe, craning his neck to see down the street. "I'm hoping to get on TV."Great. Everybody wanted to be a celebrity. She squirmed through the crowd and continued toward her shop, but the sidewalks were packed, which made for slow going. At least a third of the people here had to be press; she spotted two news vans illegally parked in loading zones, and rumpled-looking types clutching notebooks or cameras were everywhere she looked. One of them made the mistake of blocking the door of Austin Body Art. "Excuse me, miss," he said. "What do you think of all the commotion here this morning?"

  She clutched her keys in one hand and razored him with a cutting look. "I think if you don't get out of my way, I'm going to give you a free piercing--in the middle of your forehead."

  He blanched and stepped to one side. "I--I'll just put you down as a disgruntled local businessperson."

  "Put down whatever you like, just get the hell out of my way."

  She slipped into the shop and slammed the door behind her. She wasn't in any mood to deal with this nonsense today. She'd awakened this morning feeling...unsettled. Last night with Kyle had thrown her off balance. Sure, they'd had a great time, but then there'd been that conversation about what he should do with his future. What did she care what he did with his life? It wasn't as if she was his mother or something.

  But for some reason, right then, lying next to him, it had mattered to her. She didn't know what to make of that.

  She told herself to stop worrying about it and went to feed the cats. She was trying to figure out how to take out the trash while avoiding reporters when the door burst open and Scott lunged into the room. "It's a circus out there," he said, shoving the door closed and leaning against it. "Crazy 'Clean' Carter's actually hired a marching band to precede his limo down the street."

  "I've half a mind to call the cops and file a complaint," she fumed. "I could hardly get into the shop this morning." She glared toward the packed sidewalk visible out the front window. "They can't obstruct traffic that way, and they aren't supposed to be parked in no-parking zones. Nobody with legitimate business down here has a chance of getting through."

  "It's only one morning. Who cares?" He settled onto the stool behind the counter and flipped on the computer.

  "You ought to care," she said. "If we don't get customers, we don't make any money and you'll be out of a job."

  "My life's already shot to hell. I might as well be broke, too."

  She suppressed a growl. She was in no mood for any kind of pity party this morning--not to mention that kind of attitude was completely unlike Scott. "What's with you?" she said. "Last time I checked, you were young, single and reasonably good-looking--though incredibly vain about it--not to mention white, male and healthy and therefore privileged. What have you got to bitch about?"

  He stared at the computer screen and idly tapped a few keys. "Why do you think Cherry ignores me? Is it because she's a brain and I'm a jock?"

  Yes, we have a winner! She might have known his bad mood had something to do with women. Or one particular woman. She leaned across the counter and prepared to play Mother Confessor. "Maybe she goes for guys who aren't quite so full of themselves."

  He swiveled to face her. "Hey, I'm plenty modest." He frowned. "She's the one who's full of herself. She thinks s
he's so smart. Too smart for me."

  He was on to something there. For someone so young, Cherry was almost too sure of herself. Theresa felt a twinge of sympathy for Scott. "I wouldn't call you dumb. You set up that whole computer inventory system and our new Web site and everything."

  He frowned. "But that's just computers. Kids learn that stuff in kindergarten practically."

  She punched him in the arm. "Go ahead and make me feel like Methuselah's grandmother then. I didn't learn that stuff. And I'll bet Cherry doesn't know how to do all that, either." Though she wouldn't bet big money. The girl did seem to be awfully smart. Scary smart, really.

  "She plays classical music. In a symphony." He shook his head. "I mean, come on."

  "Good point." She crossed her arms over her chest and studied him critically. As usual, he looked as if he'd just stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog: artfully rumpled olive-colored cargo shorts, a tight, faded-just-so T-shirt advertising him as Life Of The Party and dark blue rubber flip-flops, the kind she used to only associate with jail detainees and poor little kids. The whole ensemble probably cost more than half of Cherry's entire haute-hippie wardrobe. "The two of you don't seem to have much at all in common. So why are you even interested in this girl? I mean, from the way you talk, you already have more chicks than you can handle."

  He made a face. "Well, yeah. But I was just having fun with those chicks. It didn't mean anything."

  "And Cherry means something?" She raised one eyebrow. "Come on, you hardly know her."

  He shifted on the stool and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Sometimes you don't have to know someone very long to just know. You know?"

  She shook her head.

  He twisted his hands together. "It's just...when she's here, I can't stop looking at her and talking to her and wanting her to talk to me. And when she's not here, I can't think about anything else. I mean, I went out last night and I hardly even looked at other women." His expression was bleak. "I've lost interest in anyone else."