Do Me Right

by Cindi Myers

  He pulled her close, an ache around his heart for her. Sure, all she'd been through had made her tough on the outside, but he knew her well enough now to see how soft she really was inside. He wanted to protect that softness, to let her know it was safe to show more of that to him.

  She let him hold her, which ratcheted up the tenderness he felt for her another notch. A week ago, he'd have bet she wouldn't have let down her guard this much. Funny how far they'd come in such a short time, how close he felt to her now.

  "Kristen hasn't had to give up as many of the things or people she loves," she said. "So maybe that makes it hard for her."

  He rested his chin on top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent. Desire was closing in on him again, but something deeper than mere wanting this time. This feeling was more urgent and needy. "I see what you're saying," he said, smoothing his hand over the silken fall of her hair. "But you can't hold another person that way. She needs to understand that."

  She looked at him. "Down inside I think she already knows it. She doesn't strike me as dumb."

  Looking down at her, he glimpsed the shadowed valley between her breasts and felt a sharp pull of arousal. He didn't just want her now--he had to have her. "I don't want to talk about Kristen anymore." He kissed her, his mouth hard against hers, his hands unfastening the last button and pushing the vest aside, his fingers edging up under her bra to cup her breasts. He could get lost in these kisses, forget everything in the way they made his heart pound and his blood rush. Kissing Theresa was an instant high, better than any drug.

  She tried to push him away, her face flushed, her breath coming in pants. "Kyle, what if somebody walks in?"

  He heard the real distress in her voice. "I can fix that." He shoved off the bed and three strides took him to the door. He locked it, then moved a chair in front of it for good measure.

  She frowned at his efforts. "So they can't get in. They'll still figure out what we're doing in here."

  "No they won't." He joined her on the bed once more and took both her hands in his. "The kids are outside playing. Ken's out working and Kristen is up to her elbows in potatoes and pastry." He lay back and pulled her over on top of him. "And I've been horny all day, thinking about getting you alone."

  "We're not exactly alone." She glanced back at the door.

  Her breath caught as he unhooked her bra and pushed it aside, then sucked her nipple into his mouth. "We're alone in this room." He spoke around her, his voice muffled. "On this bed. Just you and me." He flicked his tongue across the rigid tip, enjoying the feel of her, the sound of her heavy breathing.

  "But...but what if...if someone hears us?" She squirmed on top of him, every movement increasing his arousal.

  "You'll just have to be quiet." He smiled, remembering how he'd made her scream the last time they'd been together. He transferred his attention to her other breast. "Can you be quiet?" He sucked harder, emphasizing the words.

  "I don't know...." Her voice trailed off into a low moan. He shaped his hands to her bottom and pressed her against his erection. He was hard as a rock and he wanted her to feel that--to know she was the one who'd brought him to this.

  She tore at his shirt, endangering the buttons. Her nails scratched the sensitive skin of his belly and she planted wet kisses across his chest. "What if I can't keep quiet?" she asked, even as she lowered the zipper of his jeans.

  He reached up and jerked the bandanna from around his neck. "You can use this as a gag." He trailed it across her lips, remembering the last time he'd used it in lovemaking--that first night together, when he'd blindfolded her.

  Her eyes darkened, and he thought she was remembering that night, too. They'd known each other only one week, and yet so much had passed between them in that short time. They moved in concert now, practiced lovers in tune with one another. Knowing how she looked, how she would respond, what she wanted from him, added to his anticipation and pleasure. And yet he would never fully solve her mystery--a thought that made sex between them all the more exciting.

  She rolled away from him and stood to finish undressing. Watching her, he stripped out of his jeans, his erection springing free, hard and aching. She bent to place her boots neatly by the bed and he groaned at the sight of her rounded ass. Standing, he hugged her from behind, his penis nuzzled between her thighs, his chest pressed against her back while he cupped her breasts. "Just so you know, I plan to get you alone as much as possible this weekend," he said, his lips pressed to her neck.

  "Is that a promise?" She reached out and folded down the bedspread. Her hand lingered on the lacy coverlet. "This is so pretty," she murmured.

  For all her toughness, she always had liked soft, feminine things. She wore leather and denim on the outside, but her underwear was trimmed in lace. And for all her boldness, he'd seen her melt in his arms. He wanted to make her melt again, to burn away every bit of the coldness she used as a defense.

  He helped her onto the bed and crawled in beside her to lie facing her, smoothing his hand across her hip and thigh. She had the bandanna wrapped around one hand, a hint of anxiety lingering in her eyes. "It'll be all right," he said, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder.

  "When you were a teenager, did you ever sneak girls into your room to have sex?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "No." He grinned. "I sneaked into a few girls' rooms, though." He kissed the valley between her breasts, then slid lower, his tongue trailing along her breastbone, lingering in the indentation of her navel, kissing his way to the narrow strip of curls between her thighs. "Don't ask me why, but knowing at any minute the girl's father could burst through the door waving a shotgun made sex even more exciting."

  She laughed. "You're a man who likes to live dangerously."

  "No, just a man who likes to live...fully." He sucked her clit into his mouth, tasting her arousal, every nerve of his body aware of her response to him. She moaned and clutched at the sheets, writhing beneath him. He spread her thighs wider and teased her without mercy, wanting her to feel everything he could make her feel.

  She moaned again, louder, and he felt a thrill of fear. "Use the bandanna," he urged.

  She bit down hard on the cloth, the tendons in her neck standing out as she arched to him. Blood pounded at his temples, and even the brush of the sheet against his engorged penis was agony. He slid two fingers into her, groaning softly as she tightened around him, anticipating the moment he would sink into her.

  But not yet. He turned his attention again to her clit, stroking and sucking. She was letting go now, losing herself to his touch. He loved watching her abandon herself to pleasure like this, loved knowing she could be that honest with him.

  She tensed, every muscle rigid, and then she shook with her release, straining against him, the bandanna gag muffling her cries. Those muffled sounds excited him so that his hands shook as he sheathed himself with a condom.

  He focused his gaze on her face as he slid into her. Her eyes were still closed, but she'd never looked more beautiful. He bit his lip to stifle his own cries as she tightened around him. Surely sex had never been this good before. This...complete.

  He closed his eyes and thrust hard, giving in to the haze of need that overwhelmed him. He needed this moment. He needed her.

  The realization both thrilled and scared him. He wasn't a man who needed anyone else, but in a matter of days this woman had captured him completely. And he'd surrendered willingly.

  His climax was powerful. Consuming. He rode the waves of desire, thrusting until he was spent, then collapsed and rolled onto his side, holding her close, keeping himself inside her, unwilling to break that connection.

  Her arms came around him, clutching him tightly, as if she, too, were reluctant to break the bond between them. He could feel her heart pounding in rhythm with his own, a steady beat that belonged to them alone. Did she feel it, too, this connection between them that went beyond the physical? Was it even possible for two people who'd known each other so short a time to be
in this deep?

  He stroked her back, trying to breathe around a knot of emotion in his chest. What had he done now? His affair with Theresa was supposed to be all about having fun and filling the empty weeks of his recovery.

  He'd never meant to screw it all up by falling in love.

  12

  THERESA FINALLY PERSUADED Kyle to leave so she could get ready for dinner--not that she had much to do, since she planned on wearing the same clothes she'd arrived in. But she needed some time alone to think and to put on her public face before going downstairs to deal with the K clan.

  As she brushed out her hair and applied a fresh coat of mascara and eyeliner, she thought about this afternoon with Kyle. Their lovemaking had been different somehow. More intense. Was it because she was in such unfamiliar surroundings? Or was it the thrill of the forbidden and the risk of being discovered?She shook her head and reached for a tube of lipstick. Neither of those answers felt right. Lying in Kyle's arms a few moments ago, she'd felt...content. As if everything in her life had suddenly fallen into place perfectly.

  But why should she feel that way now--and here, of all places? The idea was even more unsettling than Kristen being so nice to her.

  She set aside the lipstick, took one last look at herself in the mirror and went downstairs. She heard laughter and the hum of conversation, and followed the sounds to the dining room. Decorated with Laura Ashley wallpaper and golden oak furniture, it looked like a room in a Victorian dollhouse. The kind of dollhouse Theresa had always coveted as a child.

  All conversation ceased as she entered the room. At any other time, she'd have tossed off some comment about making a dramatic entrance, but right now she felt like a bug under a microscope. Though she fought not to let her nervousness show on her face, she was relieved when Kyle stepped forward and took her hand. "Come on and meet everybody," he said, his smile reassuring.

  He led her first to a short, stocky man with curly brown hair and a perfectly waxed mustache that curled up on each end. "This is Ken, Kristen's better half. Ken, this is Theresa."

  Ken grinned and shook her hand, his brown eyes bright with suppressed laughter. "Pleased to meet you. Kristen's always wondering why Kyle won't give the local girls the time of day, and now I know why. They don't grow 'em like you in the country."

  His droll expression combined with the impossible mustache made her smile. "I'm definitely a city girl," she said. "But I hope you won't hold that against me."

  "Darlin', I wouldn't hold nothing against you. At least not while Kyle here's around to take offense."

  "Don't mind him," Kyle slipped his arm around her. "Ken's been married so long, he's just a little jealous."

  "Why should he be jealous when he's got me?" Kristen joined them, smiling at her husband.

  Ken hugged his wife around the waist. "Kyle ought to be jealous that I found the woman for me a long time ago, while he's been wasting all these years playing the field."

  "I promise you I don't consider any of them wasted." Kyle winked at Theresa. Her heart fluttered at the innocent gesture. Get a grip, she told herself.

  "This is Kelly." Kyle faked a punch at the boy's shoulder. "When I want to upset Kristen, I threaten to teach him all my wicked ways."

  The boy's face was tinted crimson as he looked everywhere but directly at Theresa. "Uh, hello. Ma'am."

  She managed not to wince at the polite address. In her world, ma'am was reserved for grannies. But here things were probably different, so she swallowed the tart comment that rose to her lips and smiled at the boy.

  "Come here and meet my absolute best girlfriends." Kyle tugged her toward the sideboard, where Kim and her sister were counting out silverware. "The little one is Karly--with a K. And this doll--" he put his hand on the older girl's head "--this is Kim."

  "Hi, Kim." Theresa exchanged a secret smile with the girl.

  "Their little brother, Kevin, is around here somewhere," Kyle said.

  "Mama already fed him and put him down for a nap." Kim made a face. "Otherwise he just makes a big mess at the table."

  Kristen summoned them all to the table then, seating Theresa next to Kyle, with Kim, Karly and Kelly across from them. Ken said grace and then began passing platters of chicken-fried steak, sliced tomatoes, mashed potatoes, fresh corn and slices of hot, homemade bread. "Everything looks delicious," Theresa said. If this was a preview of the rest of her meals here, she'd have to be careful or she wouldn't be able to button her jeans by Monday.

  "Kyle tells me you own a tattoo parlor," Kristen said as she buttered a slice of bread for Karly.

  "My brother and I own it together, yes."

  "Oh, wow!" Kelly stared at her bug-eyed, though he jerked his gaze to his plate when she smiled at him.

  "That's a rather unusual occupation for a woman, isn't it?" Kristen asked.

  "Not really." She stirred gravy into her potatoes. "A lot of women get tattoos these days, and a lot of times they're more comfortable with a woman doing the work. And some guys think women have a lighter touch with the needles, so they prefer it, too."

  "Just the thought of needles gives me the willies," Ken volunteered. "But I can see how having a pretty woman to admire while you were getting it done would make things a little easier."

  "I should have warned you my husband is an impossible flirt," Kristen said. "Trust me, he's harmless."

  Theresa laughed. If anything, Ken's teasing had made her feel more at ease. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be so awkward after all.

  "That's me," Ken grinned. "Even the bulls knew I was no real threat, which is why my rodeo career was so short."

  "You were a bull rider?" she asked.

  "I wouldn't say he ever rode them," Kyle said. "But he was pretty good at getting bucked off."

  "Speaking of bulls," Kristen said when the laughter had subsided. "Did Ken tell you we're thinking of selling Old Gold?"

  "No kidding?" Kyle cut into his steak. "Thinking it's time to add some new blood to the line?"

  "Something like that," Ken said.

  "What do you think, Kyle?" Kristen asked. "Should we go for another full-blood Angus, or add one of the new crosses?"

  He shrugged. "That's up to y'all. I don't really have a say in it."

  "But you do!" The sharpness in Kristen's voice startled everyone. She smoothed her napkin in her lap, regaining her composure. When she looked up again, she was smiling, but Theresa noticed the strain around her eyes. "The Two Ks is still half yours. Of course you have a say in how it's run."

  "You and Ken are the ones running the place now. Those decisions are up to you."

  Ken started to say something, but a look from Kristen silenced him. "I know you've been away with the rodeo and you haven't had time to get involved with running things, but that's changed now," she said. "This injury is the perfect opportunity for you to get back up to speed on things."

  Theresa wondered if the others heard the sigh that escaped Kyle. He laid aside his fork and looked at his sister. "I'm not interested," he said. "You do what you think is right."

  Kristen's smile faltered. She leaned toward him, her voice pleading. "I know you say that. And I could understand a young, single man not wanting to be bothered. But that's changing. You're older now. You can't compete in the rodeo forever. Your injury proves that." She glanced at Theresa. "When you settle down and have a family of your own, you'll want a home for them. That home is here. You know that."

  Kyle frowned. "I don't want to talk about that now." He picked up his fork again. "Let's just have a nice dinner." He turned to Ken. "Are these tomatoes out of your garden?"

  Ken seemed to welcome the change of subject, too. "We've had a bumper crop this year. Funny thing about tomatoes. Some years you don't get any, and the next year you have more than you know what to do with."

  As the conversation rambled from gardening to rodeo gossip, Theresa rearranged the food on her plate, her appetite vanished. Why didn't Kyle tell his sister once and for all he was never coming back t
o the ranch and that was it? He wanted other things in his life--and what was so wrong with that?

  Then again, maybe he hadn't told her because he wasn't sure. After all, if all those generations of Camerons had ranched this land, was Kyle really enough of a rebel to turn his back on all that? He was at an age where a lot of men thought about settling down--and you couldn't get much more settled than Laura Ashley wallpaper and Grandmother's crocheted bedspread.

  The meal ended with lemon pound cake. "It's Kyle's favorite," Kristen said as she served up thick slices of cake. "Grandmother Cameron's recipe."

  Of course. Someone like Kristen probably never used boxed cake mix, much less bought dessert already prepared at the grocery store bakery. "It's delicious," she said somewhat weakly.

  "Before you leave, I'll give you the recipe."

  Did Kristen really think Theresa was going to be baking cakes for Kyle? "Um, that's okay," she said. "I've never baked a cake in my life."

  "You haven't?" Theresa had to hand it to Suzie Homemaker here--she covered her shock pretty well. Her smile brightened a few watts and she brushed crumbs from the tablecloth. "I'll give you the recipe anyway. It's really easy. And it's Kyle's favorite."

  "Then maybe you should give the recipe to Uncle Kyle."

  Theresa could have kissed Kim. She bit back a smile as Kristen stared at her daughter. "Well, um, yes, I suppose I could," she said.

  "Don't bother with the recipe," Kyle said, extending his plate. "But I wouldn't mind another slice of cake."

  When they'd finished eating, Kristen started gathering up the dirty dishes. "Let me help you," Theresa said, stacking plates.

  "Oh, no! You're our guest." Kristen took the plates from her. "The girls will help me. You go with Kyle and Ken and visit."

  The men had already wandered into the living room. As Theresa went in search of them, she checked the hall clock. Barely seven o'clock and already she was bored out of her skull. If she was back home, she'd be working or at least having a good time with friends in one of the Sixth Street bars. Or she and Kyle might be somewhere alone....