by Box Set
Bre slid into the center of the seat, and Spencer scrambled in after her. Trip laid the dog gently across his legs then raced around the truck and jumped in. He fired the engine and peeled out, sending dirt flying as he sped through the pasture.
All Bre could do until they got to her truck was try to control the loss of blood by pressing on the wound and send up silent prayers that she could save the dog.
Spencer stroked her head, cooing encouragement as they flew into the driveway and braked to a stop in front of Bre’s pickup. She slid out behind Trip and hurried to the cabinets that filled the bed of her vet truck, pulling down the front of the biggest compartment to create a makeshift table.
Trip gently laid the dog on the surface and told Spencer to grab a bottle of water from his vehicle, more than likely just to give the boy a concrete task to do.
They worked well together, Trip taking her instructions and following them without question. She started a portable IV and quickly stitched up the worst of the dog’s wounds. After administering a mild sedative, she assured Spencer that the dog was just sleeping, but could see the alarm and fear in his eyes.
And he could be right. Dogs and cats were attacked and killed by coyotes all the time. But usually the animal’s owner didn’t find them until it was too late. She prayed that in this case, they’d found the dog in time, and that her quick medical treatment would be able to save her.
She dispensed a dose of antibiotics then stood back, breathing hard as she found herself at a loss for what else she could do. “I think that’s it. I don’t know what else I can do for her.”
“You did the best you could. Now we just have to wait.” Trip wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, aware that he was shirtless, but not caring.
Well, part of her must have cared, because feelings now rose to the surface, feelings that had been ignored in the midst of the crisis. Sneaking a glance at his bare chest, she caught her breath at the toned slab of muscles that she leaned against.
His shoulders were broad, and sinewy ropes of muscles crossed his thick forearms. She swallowed as she remembered how it felt earlier to be held in those arms, to be crushed against that chest. But earlier, he’d been wearing a shirt. This was different. This was skin.
Get a hold of yourself, girl.
She took a step back, trying to regain her mental balance and put her focus on the injured dog. Stroking Maggie’s head, she gazed up at Spencer. “All she can do is rest, but she’s probably going to need someone to stay with her tonight. Just to keep an eye on her.”
“I can stay with her,” he said, his voice solemn as he stared down at the dog. “I’ll stay up all night and keep an eye on her.”
“You don’t have to stay awake all night staring at her, but maybe she could sleep next to you. I think you’d wake up if she started whimpering.” Part of her wondered if this would be the best idea. There was a strong possibility that the dog could pass away in the night. But the boy seemed so desperate to help that she hoped this would give him a way to offer the animal some comfort.
“Do you want me to help you take her over to the bunkhouse?” Trip asked.
“Nah. I’m worried the other guys would be too rowdy. You think it’s okay if I sleep on that cot in the barn with her?”
John had set up a small room with a sleeping area in the barn that he must have used to either grab an afternoon nap or spend the night if he had an animal that required his constant attention. It held a simple cot, some blankets, and a wooden table with an old lamp sitting on it.
Trip carried Maggie into the barn. Spencer ran ahead and created a nest of blankets next to the cot for him to lay her down on. They settled the dog and the teenager in together, and Bre gave Spencer some additional instructions for what to watch for in the night that would indicate that the dog was in peril.
The barn had a phone line, and she wrote down her cell phone number. “You can call me anytime, and I can come out. I’m used to getting woken up in the middle of the night. I’m staying in the main house so if you get worried, I can come out and take a look at her.” She put a comforting hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “She should just sleep all night, but I’m sure she’ll take comfort in knowing you are here with her.”
He nodded and dropped his hand down to gently stroke the dog’s snout. Without opening her eyes, she nuzzled his hand, her pink tongue sneaking a quick lick at his hand, then she settled back into sleep.
“I’ll go over to the bunkhouse and let your counselor know what’s going on and that you’re sleeping out here tonight,” Trip said.
They backed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Trip raised a skeptical eyebrow at Bre. “What are the chances that dog isn’t gonna make it through the night?”
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “I honestly don’t know. It could go either way. All we can do now is wait, and I’ll tend to her wounds again in the morning. If she makes it through the night, the chances are pretty good that she’ll survive.”
He swiped a hand through his already tousled hair and blew out a heavy sigh. “That’s kind of what I figured. Damn coyotes. I hate those bastards.”
She nodded then stifled a yawn.
“You’ve got to be exhausted. Did I hear you tell Spence that you’re staying the night out here tonight?”
“Yeah. I told John I would.” But that had been before. Before she knew Trip was going to be here. “I’m getting some work done on my house this week, so I’m sort of stuck staying out here.”
He ducked his head and gave her a slight grin. “I can’t say I’m sorry to know that you’ll be here when I get up in the morning.”
She couldn’t exactly say she was sorry either. She wanted to be. But the walls of her tough exterior were cracking the more time she spent with him. Seeing his compassion with the dog and the way he encouraged Spencer tonight during a time of crisis had impressed her, and instead of filling in those cracks and rebuilding, she found herself more drawn to him, the bricks in her walls crumbling and crashing down.
“I need to check on Duchess and her colt, so I’ll see you in the morning, then.” She hoped her words carried an air of dismissal. She wasn’t sure she could keep up her anger if he hung around her much longer.
Because anger wasn’t the only thing she was feeling. She could handle anger. Anger was easy.
It was the desire and the hunger that he awakened in her that she was having a hard time with. She’d put that part of herself away after the last failed relationship, resigning herself to the fact that the only romance and sex that was happening in her life was in the romantic comedies and dramatic series she watched on cable television.
But seeing Trip had brought that part of her back to life. Not just back to simply breathing, but to full-on animation, as her wants and needs looped and swooped inside of her like a crazy roller coaster.
He hesitated, parting his lips—oh Lord, he had great lips—as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind and lifted his hand in a wave. “I’m gonna stop in at the bunkhouse then head on to bed. See you in the morning, then.”
She spent the next thirty minutes checking on the horse and her foal and collecting her few bags from the back of her truck.
The main house was already dark, but a dim light shone over the dining room with a note telling her she could sleep in the first guest room down the hall and on the right. She’d stayed overnight one other time and assumed it was the same guest room as she dragged her weary body down the hall and into the first room, not realizing that she’d turned left instead of right.
Dropping her things on the bed, all she wanted was to take a hot shower and crawl into bed and sleep for the next ten to twelve hours. She pulled off her boots and socks and wiggled out of her jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
Padding barefoot across the floor, she opened the door to the bathroom and realized she wasn’t the only one with that idea as a cloud of steam poured out.<
br />
She sucked in her breath as her gaze fell on the sight of Trip—a completely naked and dripping wet Trip—standing in the open door of the shower and reaching for a towel.
Chapter 6
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound angry and demanding, when it really came out as hoarse and breathy.
He shook his wet hair, and a slow grin pulled at the corner of his lips. He looked so freaking sexy, his body ripped with muscles and tanned brown from the sun. “I’m taking a shower.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Well, then you want to join me? I just finished, but I’d be glad to wash your back. And I’ve heard the best way to save water is to bathe with a friend.”
She wanted to laugh, to smile at his teasing, but she stood frozen, her body and mind in a struggle of indecision.
It would be so simple, so easy, to take a step forward. To take the dare that flashed in his eyes and drop her clothes and walk into his arms.
But what would that solve? How could giving in to temptation and a few moments—or hours—of pleasure help anything?
He’d already told her that he wasn’t staying—that he was starting his new business in Wyoming. He was only here for a few days. It would be stupid, and reckless, to even consider it. And she didn’t do reckless.
No. The smart decision—the only decision—was to turn around and walk away. Find another room—hell, find another ranch to spend the night.
She knew what she had to do. So why were her feet walking forward? Why were her hands grasping the hem of her T-shirt and pulling it over her head? Why was she reaching behind her and releasing the clasp of her bra then letting it drop to the floor?
His eyes widened as he stood in the shower door, then he turned the water on and took a step back, allowing her room to step in front of him.
Her feet carried her across the room and into the shower stall. Still wearing her bikini underwear, she let the warm spray of water hit her and closed her eyes as he pulled the shower door shut behind them.
His hands settled on her shoulders, massaging the tension away, and she stood frozen as he released her hair from its braid, combing through it with his fingers.
Her nipples puckered in the cool air, tight with want as she felt the barest hint of his body behind her. A shiver ran through her when his chest brushed against her back as he reached for the shampoo bottle.
After pouring some shampoo into his hand, he lathered it into her hair, his fingers strong as they kneaded her scalp, working the suds over her head. His touch was firm but gentle, and she turned to face him as she let the water rinse the soap from her hair.
Letting her gaze travel over his body, she tentatively raised a hand and set it on his chest, loving the way he sucked in his breath, and his eyes fluttered closed at her touch. Skimming her fingers over his pecs, she slid them over his wet-slicked body, letting her nails trail down his side then curling her hands around his waist. He was beautiful.
The boy’s body that she’d last known was gone, replaced by the physique of a man. And holy freaking hot cowboy, what a man.
He hadn’t said anything yet, and that was okay with her. Maybe if they didn’t speak, she could pretend that this wasn’t even real. Could imagine that she had really fallen asleep on the bed in the guest room and this was just a delicious dream.
Reaching out, he caressed her cheek, then trailed his long fingers along her neck, across her collarbone, and down her chest. Turning his hand over, he skimmed the back of his fingers across the top of her breasts, then skated them down her sides, tracing her slender waist then slipping them inside the band of her underwear, which were now soaked and stuck to her wet skin.
Slowly, his movements gradual but deliberate, he slid her panties over her hips and let them fall to her feet. His gaze roamed over her body, and she swore she could feel the scorching heat of it on her skin.
Standing naked before him, she knew that she was baring more than just her body. She was giving him a part of herself, the part that she’d kept hidden, locked away twelve years ago.
She closed her eyes, fighting against the memories and forcing herself to stay in the moment. Feeling his thumb graze her bottom lip, she let out a soft sigh right before his lips settled on hers.
Letting go of the past, she focused on this moment as she wound her arms around his neck, giving in to the kiss and the feel of his body as he pulled her tightly against him.
They might only have the next two weeks, or only tonight, or maybe only the next hour, but she didn’t care. She wanted him. Needed him. Even if it was only temporary. It was Trip. And he was here—kissing her, touching her.
Every cell, every nerve felt alive in her body, as she was seized by a dizzying array of sensations. From the soft caress of his tongue as it slipped between her lips, to the rough calluses on his hands as he squeezed and stroked her bare skin, to the warm spray of water that hit her back as she clung to him.
He turned her body, and she gasped into his mouth as he pressed her against the cool glass of the shower door. Lifting her hand, he entwined their fingers as he held it above her head.
Trailing a hot line of kisses down the side of her neck, he bent his knees and focused his skills—and the man did have incredible skills—on her breasts, teasing her tightened nipples with his tongue and sucking the erect points in between his lips.
Grazing his teeth over the sensitive nubs, he brought his free hand up to cup her other breast, massaging and kneading it, and sending waves of pleasure shooting down her spine.
She couldn’t get enough of him, of his skin, of his touch, and she arched her back, giving herself over to him as his hands slid over her water-slicked body, exploring and discovering.
The sound of his breath quickening into soft gasps only thrilled her more as she relished the idea that she still excited him so completely. Even after all these years.
Keeping her hand secured above her head, he slid his other hand down her stomach, across her hips and between her legs, seeking the warm center of her pleasure. Stroking and rubbing, he brought forth sensations that she hadn’t felt in so long.
All of her senses were focused on the feelings building inside of her.
Gasping for breath, she pressed against his hand, wanting more, aching for his touch, so close to the edge…then she was falling over, spinning out of control, as the waves rippled through her.
Sagging against the glass, he wrapped an arm around her, holding her up, as he reached out and turned the water off. Lifting her, he carried her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her.
As worn out as she felt, the sight of his tight bare butt in the mirror behind him was enough to start her engine as she geared up for round two.
And he could bet his sweet ass that there would be a round two.
***
Trip looked down at Bre lying beneath him, her hair spread out on the pillows, and he could barely breathe.
He’d imagined this scenario so many times—well, he’d never imagined the scene that had just happened in the shower. That was beyond anything he could have dreamed.
But his dreams had been filled with images of making love to her, of her straddling his waist as she rose above him, her hair wild and her breasts bare, of kissing her and touching her, and of him settling between her legs like he was doing now.
He still didn’t know how this had happened. He’d come up to his room to take a shower and couldn’t believe it when he’d opened the shower door to see her standing there wearing nothing but a T-shirt, her long legs bare.
Teasing her, he’d invited her into the shower, never expecting that she’d take him up on it. He’d thought his heart was going to stop when she dropped her bra and stepped into the shower with him.
Then he couldn’t think at all. Could only feel, and touch, and lick, and kiss. And he still couldn’t get enough. Even after they had dried off and moved to the bed, he couldn’t get enough of
her lips, her body, her scent, her taste.
He wanted to discover every part of her, to hear that sexy little sigh she made when he did something she liked. And he wanted to do everything she liked.
He didn’t know why she was here or what had made her change her mind, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that she was here now, in this moment, and he wanted to hold on to her as long as he could.
Running the backs of his fingers down her cheek, he cupped her jaw and leaned forward to kiss her mouth, her cheek, her neck, whispering words of endearment as he trailed his lips against her skin. “You are so beautiful. Your skin is so soft. You smell so good.”
His hands ran through her hair, and his lips skimmed across her cheek, stopping to kiss the slender white line of scar tissue that ran down the side of her forehead.
She stilled beneath him, and he knew he’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry, Bre. I’m so sorry.”
He knew what the scar was from, how she’d gotten it the night he left. And he knew that by touching it, he’d just set off all the memories and hurt of that night twelve years ago.
She touched his lips, pressing her finger against his mouth to silence his words, and she began to move her hips under him. Never taking her gaze from his, she slid her hand down, guiding him into her, and he sucked in his breath at the warm, tight sensation. Thankfully he’d had a condom in his wallet, and he’d slipped on the protection a few minutes before.
Moving in rhythm, not speaking—afraid he’d say something stupid and ruin this—he let their bodies communicate through motion and movement and the sweet feel of her body under his.
Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled the sweet scent of her. A soft moan escaped her lips, and one of her hands clung to his back as the other stretched out and clutched a handful of the sheets.
He reached out his hand, sliding it along her bare arm until he could entwine his fingers in hers. Pressing her hand against the mattress, he increased the tempo of his hips, matching her rhythm as the sensations build inside of him.
