“About what?”
“About you coming here for help. About needing it. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“You say a lot of things you shouldn’t say but really believe. I’m getting used to it.”
“It’s just you,” he said, his cheeks flushing a little.
“Just me, what?”
“I lose my temper with you. I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”
She waved off his apology and watched Rayleen and Easy both lay cash on the table.
She knew why Cole lost his temper with her. Because she had some sort of supernatural ability to piss people off. Everybody lost their temper with her. She was abrasive or unlikable or irritating. Probably all three.
“I really am sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said. It was always fine, because she wouldn’t let it be any other way. She wouldn’t let it hurt her that he said things to her he wouldn’t say to anyone else. Or that he was rougher with her in bed than he was with other girls. She wanted him to think she was tough—to know she was tough—so it only made her happy that he treated her as if she wasn’t fragile. Right?
It was fine. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain why I left,” she murmured. “This morning, I mean. I’m sorry.” He didn’t say anything, so Grace finished her beer and gestured for Jenny to bring another pitcher to replace the one Shane had just finished off. “Did Rayleen and Easy date at some point?”
“Not that I know of,” Cole said.
“I think she likes him.”
Rayleen hooted and scooped up a pile of dollar bills. “You’ll have to find some other way to pay for your little blue pills, old man. I’m gonna bleed you dry.”
“You certainly know how to suck the life out of a man,” he answered.
“That’s what my dear departed husband used to say.”
Shane snorted in amusement as Easy’s neck turned beet-red. Cole didn’t crack a smile.
But Rayleen grinned. “Don’t tell me nobody ever told you about the ol’ fellatio, Easy. Why, these young cowboys tell me it’s all the rage.”
“You’re incorrigible, woman.”
“That comes with the fellatio, you fool.”
Even Cole snorted at that.
Easy adjusted his hat and shuffled the cards, his neck still ablaze. “You been hanging out with your young studs too much, Rayleen. You should spend some time with a real man who’ll teach you some manners.”
Grace nudged Cole with her elbow. “See?” she whispered.
Rayleen’s smile slipped back to her normal sour sneer. “If you hear about any real men, you be sure to let me know.”
“You attract a lot more flies with honey, you know.”
“There’s the problem right there. Who the hell wants a bunch of flies buzzing around? A damn nuisance.”
Easy just grunted and dealt the cards.
“They’ve got something going on,” Grace said to Cole.
“Jesus, I hope not.”
“They’re lonely, maybe. Both of them.”
She watched as Rayleen pretended she didn’t like playing cards with Easy. Then she acted like Shane was bothering her with his teasing. Rayleen was lonely. She was alone. And she was so scared to acknowledge it that she made a point of being mean. But this bar, the apartments, everything was designed to bring other people into her life. To force them near on Rayleen’s terms.
Grace’s heart began to pound hard and her mouth went dry. Suddenly Rayleen wasn’t just some old, washed-up, lonely woman. She was Grace in thirty years. Grace, who lashed out when she felt vulnerable. Grace, who couldn’t let herself need or want anything from anyone.
She poured herself another beer and drank it fast.
If she didn’t change her life, someday she’d have to do this. Find some way to force people close. And by that time, it wouldn’t be so easy to get the small things she needed. She wouldn’t be able to use her body the way she did now, to touch men when she wanted and then push them away. To find release and pleasure at a moment’s notice. And no one would take her in if she needed help. She’d just be another crazy old grouch who was too mean to have real friends.
She had to get out of here soon. She had to pay off her debt and start her new life. Make a new way for herself. She didn’t want to end up like Rayleen any more than she wanted to end up like her own mother: weak and broken and used up and stupidly wondering why things weren’t better.
Because you never make anything better, she’d said to her mom when she’d last seen her three years ago. Because your one gift in life is being so malleable you bend like putty. Her mom had simply looked confused and cried a few tears at Grace’s meanness. The meanness that had gotten her through her mom’s abusive boyfriends, and then a life of fear and violence on the streets.
But Grace could see what she’d done wrong now. She’d been so afraid of becoming her mom that she’d made herself too strong. She couldn’t bend at all. She could only fall over and shatter, hurting anyone who got near.
There had to be a better way. She had to find it. If she was going to be alone, she didn’t want it to be like this.
“I don’t hate him, you know.”
Grace blinked from her thoughts and saw that Cole was leaning against the bar, head bowed. “Who?” she asked.
“Easy. He’s not just my boss. He was my dad’s best friend. He’s been like an uncle to me. Hell, maybe another father.”
“So, what’s wrong?”
“This thing with the movie production.”
“Ah. You’re pissed that he accepted the offer. It was a pretty fair price, you know. You can’t begrudge him that. The studio was under the gun.”
“He didn’t do it for the money. He did it to teach me a lesson.”
“What lesson?”
“Hell if I know. Something for my own good, I gather.”
She watched the way his mouth flattened with anger. With his head tipped down, she couldn’t see much more beneath his hat. “You must know.”
His lips turned up into a tight smile and he finally met her gaze. “Easy doesn’t have any kids. I’m supposed to buy his ranch when he’s ready to retire. Close enough to a son, I guess. At least he’ll know the person who owns his land. But now he’s not sure.”
“Not sure of what?”
“Not sure I’m the right man for the job anymore.”
“Oh.” She looked from Easy to Cole, aware she’d stumbled into a thicket of male ego and hurt pride. “Did he say that?”
“No, he said he wanted to give me more opportunities.”
She wanted to ask why, wanted to ask what had happened, but she worried it would be like a tiny crack in a pressurized tank. One little tap and it would spread, bright and ominous notes of warning chiming that it was about to explode.
“He’s worried about my leg,” Cole said softly.
“But that’ll heal eventually.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”
Grace felt her skin go cool as she realized what he was saying and hoped he didn’t mean it.
“It’ll be fine,” he said so softly that she barely heard it.
“What if it’s not?”
“It will be.”
She heard fear in those words, but more than anything else, she heard weariness. An unyielding weight of exhaustion that she immediately recognized. When you were looking straight at a wall and there was no way around it. No way under or over. She knew in that moment it seemed that there was nothing to do but lie down and give up the ghost. Just lie down and hope life was over with quickly instead of lasting too long.
She’d been there. Recently, but also many times in the past. Hell, she might even be there right at this moment, but she hadn’t looked around and realized it yet.
She wanted to touch him. The thought hit her so suddenly and completely that it scared her. She wanted to touch him and feel his hands on her, too. A connection. Something to anchor two lost people.
His hands
. His mouth. They’d make her feel real. And she could do that for him, too.
He glanced up and froze. His pupils tightened as if he could read the need on her face. She had to part her lips to get enough air.
Cole raised his hand as if he meant to brush a hair from her face, but instead he touched his thumb to her mouth. Grace closed her eyes and shuddered. That was all it took with him. One touch and she forgot her resolution to stay away. To be pissed. To never want anything from him.
His hand fell away, sliding down to her shoulder, then down her arm until he wrapped her fingers into his. “Come on.”
Come on. The only words it took to seduce a girl like her. She let him lead her out of the saloon and back to his apartment. Grace walked to his bedroom before he’d even closed the front door.
* * *
COLE DIDN’T KNOW WHY he felt so desperate. He’d been entirely spent not twenty-four hours before and exhausted by a day of stress and frustration. But one look from Grace and his heart was pounding with so much need it felt like panic.
She pulled her shirt over her head and then they fell to the bed, hands grasping each other, mouths devouring. He was hard as a rock already, and he gasped with relief when he ground his cock against her. Her legs wrapped around him, her hips rocking.
He wanted to be inside her already, but he couldn’t conceive of letting her go long enough to get her jeans off. So he just pushed himself against her and listened to her moan in approval. Her hands crept beneath his shirt. Her nails dug into his skin and scratched at his lust until it howled.
He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. He wanted to make her sorry she’d left the way she had. Sorry she’d even wanted to leave.
“Cole,” she groaned. Her hands slid beneath his jeans and forced his hips tighter to her. “Fuck me. Please. God, just fuck me.”
He laughed in angry pleasure. He’d do it when he was good and ready. She could wait the way she’d made him wait for her call today.
When he didn’t respond, her nails dug into his skin and then her teeth were at his neck, biting hard.
“Damn it,” he barked, startled at the pain. But more than that, he was shocked at how much it pissed him off. And how close he felt to coming as rage surged through his blood.
“Now,” she ordered. “Now.”
Cole sat up to tear off his shirt. “Take off your jeans,” he growled. Her triumphant smile turned his heart into thunder. He felt like a stallion that’d do violence to anything that tried to interfere with his goal. He unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down just far enough to draw out his cock.
Her eyes blazed with victory.
As if she’d won.
Cole growled and yanked her jeans off with rough hands. Grace laughed as if he couldn’t be rough enough to do anything more than amuse her. He slipped on a condom and lowered himself over her. And when he grabbed her wrists and pressed them to the bed, she laughed again, taunting him. She thought she was about to get what she wanted.
But Cole had other ideas. He pressed his hips tight to hers, pushing his cock against her just as he had before. Only this time there were no clothes between them. It was just his cock sliding against her clit.
She wrapped her legs around him again, and the heat of her pussy seared his shaft. But he didn’t shift his hips. He didn’t slide lower so he could sink inside her. Instead, he pressed his cock against her clit again, rocking until she moaned.
For a moment, he almost forgot why he was doing this. He was overwhelmed with the thought that he could shift one inch down, just one tiny inch, and his head would slide into her. She was so wet. It would be so easy. He’d slip right into place and then press a little and he’d be in her. Inside that tightness and heat. Surrounded by her body as she took him in. He’d—
“Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Fuck me.”
He remembered, suddenly. Remembered that he’d meant to make her pay.
“No,” he said. He slid lower, but he didn’t stop where she wanted—where he wanted. Instead he put his knee between her thighs and bent over to suck her nipple between his teeth.
“No!” she gasped, even as she arched up into his mouth. He pressed his teeth a little harder and she cried out, then whimpered when he licked at her to soothe the sting.
“Oh, God,” she groaned. She tried to slide down, but his thigh blocked her way. He pressed his leg against her, loving the way she moved against him in desperation.
She seemed to remember that he held her wrists then, and when she struggled against him, he remembered, too. That he had her beneath him, that her delicate wrists were in his grip, that she was fighting him, twisting her arms, even as she rocked against him, the heat of her pussy scalding his skin, driving him mad. He wanted inside her. He needed it.
She jerked her hands, trying to free them. He held her easily.
“Tell me you want me to let you go,” he whispered against her skin.
“Do it,” she ordered.
“No.” He dragged his mouth up to her collarbone. “Tell me you want me to let you go, if that’s what you want. Tell me to let you go and get off you.”
She bucked beneath him, her arms straining.
“Or…beg me to hold you down and take you. Beg me.”
“Fuck you,” she growled.
He kissed her neck and now his body was pressed against her, his cock notched just there. He wanted to groan the way she was groaning. Wanted to beg her to let him. Please, just let me. She was so strong. So stubborn and angry and brave.
“I’ll fuck you, Grace. All you have to do is ask me nicely. That’s all. Ask for what you want from me instead of taking. I’ll give you anything.”
“I hate you,” she sobbed. Her hips tipped up, dragging her sex against the head of his cock. Power turned to liquid heat in his veins and threatened to weaken his will.
He dragged her arms above her head and easily held both her wrists in one hand. He slid the other between them, and his fingers found the slick, hard bud of her clit easily.
“Oh, God!” she screamed. “Oh, God, please. Please, Cole.”
He smiled, amazed that he could still be controlled enough to feel anything more than animal lust. “Please, what?”
“Please. Please, fuck me. Now. Please. Just…” She pulled against his grip and moaned louder as he rubbed her clit. “Hold me down,” she rasped. “Fuck me. Hard. Please. I need it.”
Her words transformed the power in his body to blinding need. Desperation. Whatever she needed from him, he needed it more.
He took her wrists in both hands one more time, pressing them hard to the mattress.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, please, please.”
He pressed his hips forward slowly, easing into her heat. He held his breath, concentrating on the sweet tightness of her body.
“Yes,” she urged as he filled her. “God, yes. Cole—” Her words died on a gasp as he surged deep. He took her slow and deep and hard. He held her down, watching her face as her eyes closed and her lips parted and the breath rushed from her throat. She gasped with each thrust, panting as he took her faster.
When he needed to feel her hands on him, he let her wrists go, grunting when she grabbed his ass and dug her nails in. “Yes,” she urged. “Yes, yes.”
He wanted to come right then. His body screamed with it. But he needed her to come. Needed it like air. Needed to feel her jerk beneath him. Needed to hear her scream. She hated to give him anything, which only made it sweeter when he finally felt her go taut beneath him.
“God. Oh, God. Cole. I… Ah!” She screamed then, her pussy squeezing him as she dragged her nails up his back.
“Ah, fuck,” he breathed as the pain twisted around his pleasure and sank him deep into his own orgasm. He thrust hard, over and over. By the time he came back to himself, all he could hear was Grace panting into his ear. He smiled weakly and rose up to his elbows to kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a deep breath. “Did I hurt
you?”
“Yes. Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Good.” He kissed her nose and rolled off, sinking into his mattress as if it were made of down instead of cheap springs and foam. His back burned. “I’m worried you’re going to fuck me to death one of these nights.”
“I might,” she purred, a smile in her voice.
“Good,” he said again. He looked over to find her lying there, smiling, her eyes closed and her face peaceful. He’d thought he might never move again, but he found the will to turn to his side and kiss her jaw. “You’re so beautiful.”
She opened one eye, then closed it again. “Nice try. You already told me I wasn’t.”
“I was wrong,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of her warm skin. “Totally, utterly wrong.”
“Spoken like a man who just had an amazing orgasm.”
“Damn straight.” He got up to go to the bathroom to clean up, then shucked his jeans before he got back into bed. When he felt the press of her whole naked body against his, Cole sighed and closed his eyes. Something about her relaxed him. The sex, obviously, but not just that. He felt peaceful with her, which made no sense. She was so tense and prickly and combative. Though not now. Right now, her body melted into his.
Her hand touched his hip. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at the moment.”
Her fingers traced the lines which had finally faded from red to a sick pink. “But usually?”
“It depends. Sometimes I don’t notice it. But at night, it aches like a bad tooth.”
“God, it must’ve hurt when it happened. I’ve only broken my hand. And a couple of toes.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Let me guess. A punch that landed badly? And, of course, kicking things that pissed you off?”
“No!” She jerked her hand away, but she was laughing. “Okay, maybe one of the toes had something to do with my bad temper. But the hand wasn’t my fault. I got knocked down at a club and reached out to catch myself. I’m not sure if it was the landing or the boot on my hand that broke it.”
“Nice club,” he murmured.
“I could tell you some stories.”
Close Enough to Touch Page 21
