Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  Even as he emptied himself onto her glowing skin, Sommer filled him. Her essence flowed in his blood, rode through him, enticing his imagination, and rocked his world. Every corner of his universe. When he touched down, his breath came out in erratic puffs, but he was totally centered in his thinking.

  He lifted Sommer up, encircling her in his arms. He growled, “Darlin’, I love your tits.”

  “They love you back,” she whispered.

  She didn’t cover herself, but sat bared to him, giving herself as he asked. Last night and now, a sense of quiet hummed inside his head. All the pressure and tension dissolved and he didn’t have this unending fight. What he’d give to have her in a bed where they could spend all night, hours on end and then wake up together. And do it all over again. “Baby,” he groaned, reaching for his shirt.

  He was about to wipe her off, but she caught his hand. “I’ll get some warm water. Wait here.”

  She pushed him down onto the recliner and picked up a white towel, gifting him with a seductive smirk. He watched her walk out from beyond her area, the beaded curtain swishing in her wake. His pulse still raced. The thrumming in his chest took several seconds to settle. When Sommer returned, the vision of her buck naked coming into the room, hurled his hunger right back up and through the roof.

  “What happened?” Her gaze shifted down to his dick.

  “Seeing you.” His smile deepened and he laughed. “This has pretty much been the state of the nation lately, sugar.”

  A blush crept up her body, getting brighter pink by the time the heat wave spread across her cheeks. “You never…Once?”

  “Never once what?”

  “Had sex with another girl?” she asked, and then shook her head. “I mean all the way kind of sex? Tell me the truth. This is all new for us. So no secrets. We broke up so many times and not once, Rory McLemore?”

  He reached his hand out, drawing her to his lap so that she sat on one of his thighs. “Baby, people say never say never. But this is one of those times when never is the right answer. Where’s this coming from? Something that dipstick Drew said?”

  “Not him. It was just the way Jen reacted. Like it was so inconceivable that you and I hadn’t done it yet. I kinda thought, yeah, it’s hard to believe.”

  Expelling a breath, he inhaled a deep one to stop from launching an attack on her friend. “Look it hasn’t been easy holding back from you. God, since tenth grade, I’ve wanted to—don’t get me wrong. We’ve come close. The folks around this town are only part of the issue with their string of gossip. Lies that easily get warped. Bent and beaten. It’s been done to my brothers, probably spurred them in some respects. You know that from your family too. Wasn’t going to let it happen to you. Or us. I want to marry you. Not brand you.”

  “But people already think I’m branded.”

  “Those people aren’t in your head. How you act—what you do—the decisions we make aren’t based on them and idle gossip. We’re different than all that. I love you Sommer, and nothing will change that. Come out to the ranch and take a look at the land we got. Our future. Nobody else is invited.”

  “Wish Momma would stop hounding me about our future.” She plucked along the tips of his fingers with her own. He realized how much her mother pressured her, and Sommer never reacted well to doing things for the wrong reason.

  He tipped her face up to him. “You can make your own decisions.”

  “Here’s one,” she murmured. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. “Mmm. I love you, cowboy.”

  When Sommer pulled back, he stopped her. “Let me.” Taking the cloth from her hand, he wiped across her chest and removed the streaks that had dried on her skin. He cleaned her curves and enjoyed watching her nipples puckering into pink rosettes, tempting him as she sat on his thigh. The question burst into existence. If she were asking him about the possibility of having sex, did that mean she’d gone that route? “You ever let another guy do anything?”

  Sommer stiffened in his arms. “No. Of course not.”

  “Hey, you opened the door and asked first.” He pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, sucking on her skin until her whole body arched and she moaned, heading back for the cliff.

  “Please,” she groaned.

  “You’re so unbelievably beautiful. How I’d love to give you what we both want.”

  “Really?” She stroked his cock and laughed, taking the towel out of his hand, and lifting off his lap.

  He frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Then why don’t you, if you want to and I want you with all my heart. Makes the point of waiting to have sex until we’re married old-fashioned. I’m not lookin’ to argue, just stating a fact. Now, lean back.” She hiked up his jean clad calves onto the recliner and began to wipe his groin.

  “Sugar, there’s no argument that we fit together,” he grunted, his cock getting harder with her fingers holding onto him.

  She caressed his skin with the damp cloth, stroking along his hard-on as he tried to stay in the moment, savoring the tease of his flesh, not give into the temptation of lifting her up until she straddled his hips and he could impale his length into her tight heat. He curled his fingers over hers, guiding her hand up and down his length. “Just…like…that.”

  Flicking her thumb across his crown, she replied, “I’m not arguing the point. We were meant to fit together.”

  Chapter 15

  Leaning closer, she whispered, “Question is when are we going to slide the key into the lock?”

  “Not soon enough,” he replied, clenching his jaw.

  Rory didn’t relent. With his hard-on fully visible, hugging his lower belly, he reclined and met her gaze.

  She watched him draw his jeans up his muscular legs and over his narrow hips. “Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?” she squeaked.

  “My eyes are up here, darlin’,” he growled. “We have time to run out to Evermore before the barbecue.”

  “I need to change. And I drove. So should I meet you there?”

  “How about if I follow you back to your place and then we travel as one tonight?”

  “Deal, cowboy. Let me lock up. Give me a sec.” Still without a stitch on, she walked toward the storage area in back, careful to stay out of sight from the front door.

  Anyone passing by had a view into the ante room, but not down the hallway or over to her corner of the ink studio. She spread the damp towel on the edge of the sink. She’d get the used towels together and take them over to the Wash & Fold down the block tomorrow. Laundry, then she’d run some errands she’d put off. Now with some of the dough from the tattoo today, she could get some badly needed supplies.

  Like freaking ink. She’d sweated while working on Vince, worrying she’d run out. Not that she couldn’t borrow from Rachel. But still, she didn’t want to ask for the umpteenth time. Grabbing her bag off the hook, she started to compile a list in her head of things she needed to get done.

  She waltzed back down the hall and suddenly had a thought. Sex in her workplace? Check that off the list. She silently snickered, thinking where on her list of errands she might fit Rory. Say, tomorrow around lunch. She should start a new list—of firsts. My ‘dirty’ laundry list! One that has nothing to do with towels or clothes. First time to have done Rory using her breasts, which were now a shade pinker where he’d rubbed between them. She could still feel him thrusting along her skin—and a tingling tremor unleashed from deep in her core, making her nipples bead and ache.

  God, they were seriously on edge. He sported hard-on after hard-on. His alpha male state had her craving him something awful. Whoa, it felt like a heatwave scorched her skin as the space between her legs pulsated like a second heartbeat. By tonight, she’d have a couple more scorching items to add to their dirty laundry list. At least she hoped so.

  Threading her arms through the beaded curtain, she hesitated, relishing the sight before her. Rory lounged on the
recliner with his arm bent behind his head. His washboard abs were a collection of corrugated muscle below a set of carved pecs. Flaring shoulders that seemed to broaden over the last year in leaps and bounds. Even his biceps were now too developed to get both her hands around. Inked skin never had looked better.

  Low in her belly, the coil of need spiraled and her vocal cords tightened. “I should get a photograph of you like that for my Facebook page. Might be killer for business.”

  He gifted her with an irresistible half smile, half smirk that made his single dimple do wicked things to her pulse. “Wouldn’t mind trading, if I could get a photo of you for my spank bank.”

  “We should discuss the terms.” She dropped her bag and picked up her jeans, cocking her head as a smirk overtook her lips. “Sexting?” That’s definitely going on my DLL.

  “We have a whole world waiting for us,” he remarked. “Do you realize that?”

  “I get the picture and it’s pretty dang hot, cowboy.” Squealing, she spun to the side as he tried to catch her, but she lifted up and got away from his outstretched fingers. “Need to be quick, if you want a piece of this pie.”

  Rory rolled upward, his boots landed one by one with a resounding thud. “Oh I’m quick. But I like a challenge. Don’t tease me unless you want that to go both ways.”

  “I was just thinking about our fast-growing list of firsts. I’m calling it our ‘Dirty Laundry List’ or DLL for short.” Tugging on her jeans, she stood in front of him, and leaned over, planting her palms on his chest. “And I’m not teasing. Thought we already established that.”

  “You. Not tease. Me?” His lips quirked into a grin. “Girl, that’s one of your specialties. If you don’t get your way.”

  “That’s so not true. I want to do so many things with you.”

  “As long as they’re on your list,” he retorted. “You’re going to have to learn to cooperate and compromise. Bend a little if you want satisfaction, sugar.”

  She turned her T-shirt right side out and pulled it on intentionally braless, and her pierced nipples beaded the material. Rory’s undivided attention glued to her twin peaks prevented him from speaking. He’d seen her in this state plenty but now apparently his spank bank required extended staring. The silence was deafening.

  She snapped her fingers. “What were you saying about eyes up here?”

  “You just made my point. No bra. You’re teasing me. Another form of torture and that door swings both ways.”

  “That’s just man talk for a double-standard. You don’t wear a bra and you’ve got nipples. I should have the same privileges.”

  “Fine. You win.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Won’t get me to touch that one. I’m afraid you’ll shed your shirt and go topless. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” she whispered, seizing her bag and breezing by him. “Don’t forget cowboy, I haven’t got any panties on either.”

  “Damn, you’re well beyond teasing. C’mon let’s get you changed and then maybe, we can go get something to eat.”

  “You want to come in or wait here?” Sommer asked, looking up at Rory after he lowered her from his truck. They stood on the sidewalk outside her mom’s home.

  Rory’s brows drew together. “I’ll wait here and come say hello when you’re ready to leave. I need to make a call over to my cousin and light a fire under him. It won’t be pretty,” he said.

  “Be back in a few.” She smiled when he opened the front gate to her yard and tipped his hat.

  Humming, she entered the house and stopped in the small entryway to gauge what Momma was up to this afternoon. All was quiet. Almost too quiet. Usually there was a low hum of white noise in the form of the television.

  “Momma?” she called out loud enough for her voice to carry and walked forward. The front room was empty and unease swam in the pit of her stomach.

  Sommer rushed through the living room and poked her head into the kitchen. The back door was shut, and the curtains drawn across the windows. She whirled around, wondering if her mother was even at home. Retrieving her cell, she checked to see if she’d missed a message from her aunt. She opened the app and checked the status of the ankle monitor that Rae wore. It blinked on the GPS map. The dot was here in the house.

  Oh please, she prayed. It was a conflicting wish. Worry that Momma had left and wanting her to get out. Agree to do more than sit and wait for Dad, who wasn’t coming back. But until Rae consistently took her meds, it was fruitless wishing and worry she couldn’t put aside.

  No message or text from Aunt Belinda. Her aunt always contacted her if she had plans with Momma. After Rae had disappeared for three days once, they’d developed a system that didn’t include assumptions. Gone was her wish of ‘if only Momma would get out.’

  A sharp twinge knotted in Sommer’s chest as she walked into the hall and toward the crack of light coming from her mom’s bedroom. “Momma, are you in there?”

  Outside in the hallway, she faced the closed door and lightly knocked. “Hello?” From inside, she heard the rustling of papers and a glass knocked over.

  “Sommer? You’re back.” Sounded like a drink spilled. Ice clinked and a glass knocked against the hardwood floor. Rae’s voice shot up, “Dammit to hell!”

  The muscles in her neck stiffened at the cranky sound of her mom’s voice. Just as Sommer turned the knob, the door flew open and her mother appeared on the threshold.

  “Err…everything all right?” She glanced up and down Rae, but for a second, she had trouble computing her mom’s state.

  Usually her mom dressed in wrinkled clothing that she’d worn for a couple of days until Sommer harangued her enough to bathe and change. The last couple of weeks had been especially hard. She’d found out her mom had been hording her medication, getting more and more agitated. Then she’d abruptly asked for her pills three days ago. The cycle had rubbed Sommer’s nerves raw, wore her patience precariously thin.

  But today, Momma’s face was done up, her hair was fixed, and she wore a summer dress. One Sommer had never seen, and looked out of character for her mother of late—pretty and feminine. Tiny bows and buttons ran down the cream-colored bodice that spanned the front above a red floral print background.

  “Wow. You look nice. Are you going out?”

  “I’ve got a date,” Momma announced proudly. “He’s coming in about an hour.”

  “A date?” Sommer repeated. “As in a man?”

  “What other type? Goodness gracious, don’t act so shocked. Aren’t you happy that I’m getting out? You’re always preaching that I’m wasting my life on the sofa. So, I’m going to live a little.” Her mother picked at a piece of lint on her dress and smoothed the material along her waist—repeating the gesture several times.

  “I’m overjoyed. Who are you going out with?” She observed Rae. Her color was high. More concerning was how Momma’s eyes flitted around, hardly focusing on anything for more than a millisecond, if that. She’d been through this before. Lots of times since Dad had left. Ideas that came and went with her mom were a dime a dozen, but occasionally something stuck. And those few ideas weren’t what Sommer would classify as reasonable. Although they didn’t happen often, when one did, it was worrisome. Don’t go there, she warned herself. That type of fear and apprehension urged Sommer to compartmentalize her worry.

  “His name is Harvey. No Henry. Oh my, I’m so nervous. Henry Smith or Smite. I have his card…somewhere but I can’t recall.”

  Clayton Bell had preyed on, if not bankrolled, her mom’s trust and it put a noose around Sommer’s neck. She might have one more week of having to do his bidding, but that SOB could easily set both Rae and her up for something worse. “Where did you meet him?”

  “We met at church.”

  The pit of Sommer’s stomach twisted with worry. Bell was a deacon. He wasn’t the only person who’d taken advantage of Rae. A year ago, someone came visiting when her mother was in this state, it cost th
em a couple thousand dollars and had an attorney. Rae had signed papers to second mortgage the house and give the funds to a fraudulent investment scheme finagler. If she came barreling at her, Momma would clam up.

  “He’s just as pleasant as can be.”

  Sommer inhaled, forcing lightness into her voice. “Is Henry from Annona?”

  “Yep. Born and bred. He was a couple of years ahead of me in school.” Rae rested her hands on her hips. “Oh he isn’t like your boyfriend’s family. Rich and well connected, but he’s nice.”

  “Momma, nice is what matters.”

  “Easy for you to say. Did you give Rory an answer? Are you going to marry him?” Her mother raised an eyebrow.

  This flip-flopping of moods had the ability to unseat Sommer if she didn’t remind herself that she was talking to her mother. “No. I didn’t. And you asking me every day isn’t helping me decide, either. Please, let’s not get into it, today.”

  “But one day you will, and I want to be sure to hear the news.”

  “Gosh, I promise I’ll tell you.”

  Rae snorted. “There’s plenty you do but don’t tell me about. Remember, I married in white because I didn’t need to keep secrets. Sommer, I hope you will, too.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to count to ten, but aimed for five. “Momma, let’s stay focused on you.”

  “I hope you say ‘yes’ to Rory. And soon, ‘cause it would help me move on with life. Do you realize that?”

  “Whether or not I get married has nothing to do with your life. Don’t put that kind of pressure on me.”

  “I just mean, if I knew you were happy and settled, then maybe I could try spreading my wings, as well.”

  How many times was her mother going to say these same words in different variations? Each and every day she asked if Sommer had accepted. What a mistake she’d made to even share that Rory had asked—and only because her Momma used to constantly remind her—pester her about the McLemore reputation. If only her mother and the world were privy to the truth.