Even Cowboys Get the Blues

by Stuart, Amie

  “But Rene allows it. You know her mom left when she was three. You are a direct threat to the status quo, where she’s concerned. So decide now how long you plan on hangin’ around, and go from there.”

  After she left, I puttered around, unpacking and figuring out where things were while Jessa’s words played over and over in my head. It would take me a while to get my bearings.

  My entire life...the last fifteen years, anyway, had been about Nichole.

  I sniffled and fought the tears, but after last night, I knew it was too late. I’d reached a crossroads. I had to choose between Tim and being alone.

  Between maybe someday and right now. Between the little one and Nichole. What if I chose wrong? If I chose Rene, was I a bad mama? Or was I even a mother at all? Was it a betrayal, if I didn’t find her? Damnit! I cried again, for my mama. I had no one to turn to, no one’s advice to seek. I sighed and sat on the edge of Tim’s bed as so many things sank in. Since the day they took Nicole from me, finding her was all I’d ever dreamed of. Finding her had kept me going.

  Finding her, getting back to her, to my baby. My baby was fifteen now, no longer a baby. That thought brought more tears to my eyes. I couldn’t save her, I could only hope that Lady Luck had smiled on her and given her a good family. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought the feeling of disloyalty, betrayal, and anger at myself. Sadness, too. I no longer fought my tears but gave into them.

  If I chose Rene, I wasn’t really giving up. I wasn’t giving up. Maybe...maybe Tim would help me. All I had ever dreamed of, set aside in one afternoon? No, not one afternoon. In six months. Eventually, I’d have to go back, do some research, and find out why there was no trace of Nichole’s adoption, but maybe I could be findable from Texas. I had three years until she was old enough to look for me. And Texas wasn’t that far away.

  My decision made, I got off the bed and started a load of laundry. Exhausted from the emotional storms, I moved slowly, but it felt as if a mountain had been lifted from my shoulders. In the freezer, I found what looked like venison, thawed it, and whipped up a stew. Tim showed up at dark but Rene, as promised, was nowhere to be seen. I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as he took off his boots and hung up his hat and coat.

  “Something smells good.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but notice the lines of fatigue around his eyes. Due, in part, to me. But he smiled back.

  “Venison stew and cornbread, but I have no clue where Rene is. She said something about meatloaf.” I shrugged and hoped he wouldn’t be angry. I wasn’t exactly sure how this would work.

  His smile dimmed a bit. “She’s staying the night with Delaney.”

  “Because of me?”

  He cupped my face in his cold, chapped hands, and I fought the urge to lean into him, to wrap my arms around him.

  “Just be patient with her, please.”

  “Don’t worry. I understand.”

  “She’s never had a woman underfoot. Not since she was little.” He shook his head and added, “and I’m not even sure she remembers.”

  “It will all fall into place.” I gave him my best reassuring smile, hoping he bought it. Hoping we were both right. He lightly touched his lips to mine, and I shivered, despite the house’s warmth. “Sorry.” I smiled in embarrassment.

  “S’okay. I’m gonna go take a quick shower before we eat, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure, go on, Flirty Boy. I’ll dish it up, and by the time you come back, your stew will have cooled down enough to eat.”

  When he returned, he caught me at the counter pouring tea, wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. His goatee tickled, and I resisted the urge to squirm while easing back against him. My head rolled against his chest as he planted a row of soft kisses on my neck. I bit my lip, trying to tamp down my reaction, but the heat, the embers that had smoldered since this morning slowly grew.

  “If I don’t stop, we’ll end up going to bed hungry,” he whispered against my neck.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d left me unable to think up a suitable response. I stayed silent as he eased his grip and took the tea glasses from the counter. But still he didn’t move, and I could feel the heat of him against the length of me. His erection through the layers of our clothes. The warm, clean, soapy smell of him was comforting, in a strangely erotic way.

  “We’ve got all night.” His husky voice came from somewhere above my right ear, and I nodded.

  Dinner was a quiet, quick affair.

  My mind was a million miles away. No, truly it was down the hall, in the bedroom. Despite my decisions, I was still nervous. This was fairly uncharted territory for me. I struggled to pay attention and respond to Tim’s light chatter, but it was difficult. He stood with a scrape of his chair and placed his empty bowl in the sink. “Thanks for cooking.” He sat back down and watched me as I dropped my spoon in the bowl.

  “It was nice to come home to, but I don’t want you to think I expect it.” He sighed and smiled, resting his forehead on his clasped hands. “I haven’t lived with a woman in nine years, and neither has Rene. I suppose the three of us should sit down in the next day or so and set some ground rules.”

  “That would probably be a good idea.” I nodded and stood, carrying my own bowl to the sink and starting the dishes. I nervously fussed at the sink, stalling. This wasn’t like the other time. I knew Tim wouldn’t hurt me, but I couldn’t help having reservations. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him; it was that I’d realized just how much I did, and that scared the shit out of me.

  I was also afraid he’d be disappointed, and honestly, still unsure of what he saw in me. I was just a runaway, a vagabond. A woman who’d once beaten up a pimp with a baseball bat. I finished the dishes by rote, hyper-aware of Tim, who came up behind me and flicked off the water.

  I jumped. He retreated, and not just physically. I caught the wary look in his eyes when I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I stammered with an awkward smile. “I was on another planet.”

  Tim watched me, blue eyes intense, “You don’t…we don’t…I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Toni Joy, but if you need some space or time, we can move your things into my office or one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

  “Non. No. I want to stay with you.” I nodded and swallowed, my heart beating erratically. He had no idea how completely I meant those words. That didn’t prevent me from being nervous about having sex with him. Making love.

  “Are you sure, Toni?” he asked, approaching me hands out, as if I were one of his horses or something.

  “Positive.”

  The look on his face said he was just as nervous as I. He stopped in front of me, our bodies barely touching, and pulled the long wooden sticks from my hair, letting it fall across my shoulders. He leaned down, lips against mine, and whispered, “You have the softest hair.”

  I could feel his hands tangled in my curls, massaging my scalp. My body relaxed against his as our lips fused together.

  Breaking the kiss he asked, “Do you trust me?” His deep, resonant voice was rife with passion.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Then turn around.”

  I did, self-consciously placing my hands on the edge of the sink. Tim’s fingers brushed my hair to one side as his long, lean body pressed against mine. I could feel his erection, and how his hands trembled a little. Instead of being scared, I calmed a bit. Callused hands gripped my waist as Tim kissed my shoulder. The softness of his goatee made me shiver as it slid across my skin and traveled from shoulder to neck. I could feel myself responding as he continued to caress me. I felt as if the whole world had narrowed down to just him and I, and I was playing Eve to his Adam, my body filled with electric fire.

  Gently, he bit the back of my neck and unchecked, my back arched against him. Tim’s hands squeezed my waist and slowly inched my black stretch pants over my hips. Beneath my long T-shirt, I was naked, and Tim’s sweats brushed against my legs. I found it indescribably erot
ic.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked again, murmuring in my ear.

  “Uh-huh.” Words were long gone. I’d made my decision and conscious thought had left me.

  I shivered, lost, as he momentarily broke contact between our bodies. Hands still holding my T-shirt up, he knelt behind me. I could feel myself twitch, strangely excited at him doing something so intimate. I jumped and laughed nervously at the feel of his tongue on the back of my knee. He chuckled and started again, his lips French kissing the tender area. I gasped. His lips traveled up my thigh, planting kisses inside, his tongue caressing me from knee to hip until he instructed me to bend over, his voice harsh. He shoved my shirt above my waist and started on the other thigh.

  Bent over and exposed, I could feel myself growing wetter and more excited. I clutched the edge of the sink and propped my cheek on my fingers, relaxed yet tense, every nerve on high alert. Tim continued to make love to me with his mouth and goatee, occasionally nipping my thighs while his hands massaged the cheeks of my ass. When I felt his goatee slide against my tender, swollen lips, I knew it was deliberate and moaned long and loud.

  Impatient as he was, Tim was also in complete control. His fingers massaged the tender, nerve-filled flesh and gently pulled the skin apart exposing me. My body responded, back arched, hips tilted, begging for more. My hips bucked against his knuckle as it slowly slid across my lips, grazing my clit. “Tim!”

  “You want me to stop?” he asked, his breathing harsh.

  “Non!” That one word came out a sentence.

  “Relax,” he said, slipping one finger inside me. I mewled at the tender invasion, wanting more. His lips skimmed across my thighs and bottom while two of his long fingers explored me, caressing and stroking me until he knew every inch of my slick wet heat. I moaned long and low, my fingers biting into the counter’s edge.

  I was lost. My mind blanked. I couldn’t think, only feel. There was no past and no future, only right now. I’d never wanted a man before, but I wanted him. “Tim, please!” My hips bucked, silently pleading for more.

  “Not yet,” he whispered, covering me with his mouth. His tongue was quick to find my clit, and he gently latched on, his pace maddeningly slow as he adeptly pushed me toward my first orgasm. He nibbled, licked, and sucked as if it were the rarest treat. I bucked against him and moaned, long and loud, almost embarrassed at my need. I’d never wanted anything so bad.

  All the sudden the world stopped. My body convulsed. I couldn’t breathe nor hear. I know I spoke but can’t recall what I said. Tim hung on, never stopping, pushing me further and further over the edge, and not caring that I’d long since fallen.

  When he let go, my legs gave way, and I collapsed. Tim caught me. I never doubted he would.

  TIM CRADLED TONI in his arms and waited for her to recover. And himself, too. He’d forgotten what a rush it was to feel a woman lose herself like that, how much he enjoyed going down on a woman. Well, not forgotten, but put out of his mind. That wasn’t something he did for just anyone. He eased up off the cold floor, cradled her in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom.

  Strange as it sounded, just having her here turned him on. Coming home to a warm house that smelled like dinner, seeing her standing there in the kitchen doorway. Maybe it made him a caveman, but so be it. He’d enjoyed going through his drawers and seeing her things there. He’d enjoyed seeing his bed made and room tidied up, knowing she’d done it for him.

  He was a caveman.

  He smothered a grin as he laid her on the bed and peeled her oversized T-shirt off. His grin faded at the sight of her naked and spread out on the down comforter. His mouth went dry at the sight of her pert, cinnamon colored nipples, her legs held tightly together, her slightly concave belly with only the barest traces of stretch marks to mar them. He closed the door, stripped and stretched out beside her, snapping off the bedside lamp and leaving only the bathroom light for illumination. She shivered slightly against him.

  “Cold?” he whispered, pulling her close. As hot as he burned, he didn’t know how anyone could be cold.

  “A little,” she murmured, her accent unusually thick.

  He got them settled beneath the cover and pulled her near, suddenly nervous. He’d waited six months for her. What if he blew it? Somewhere deep inside, he sensed failure was not an option. He had one shot, and he had to make it a good one. No puns intended. He’d never realized how rough his hands were before. Finally, he gave into the urge and kissed her. Soft, gentle, deep, slow, his tongue and lips probed. This was everything the kiss on their second date should have been.

  Her hands on his shoulders, she tentatively responded, and Tim willed himself to take his time. She shivered and relaxed the tiniest fraction beneath him. She was nervous, he realized, and inexperienced. He released her lips and held her against the length of him, studying her in the dim light.

  “I want you,” he whispered.

  She nodded and swallowed, her lips trembling.

  “Are you sure? Are you positive? Because I can still stop.” It’d kill him if she said stop, but he would.

  She arched against him, rubbing her legs against his. “I need you.”

  He nodded and kissed her, losing himself in the seductive depths of her lush mouth and the feel of her satiny skin. His hands wandered the length of her and his mouth followed. From her neck, arched so he could reach the most tender spots, to the valley between her breasts as he covered her with the length of him.

  He sat up, straddling her waist, his fingers lightly teasing the puckered tips of her breasts as she arched her back and lightly panted, her nails digging into the sheets. She shivered and moaned low in her throat as his knuckles traced her ribcage. He caressed her, teasing and testing the weight of her heavy breasts in his hands, plucking at the tips until she arched against him and his balls ached at the feel of her fevered skin.

  He stretched out atop her and nudged her legs apart, settling his weight between them and on his elbows, catching both breasts with his hands and his mouth. He teased and laved each nipple, his blood boiling as he fought the urge to just slide inside her and be done with it. He had to take his time.

  Beneath him, she panted and wriggled against him, her fingers still buried in the sheets, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She wanted him, but she didn’t. He slowed down, pulled back. His fingers teased and tweaked, touched and stroked as he moved lower.

  He parted her lips and gently blew on her clitoris, eliciting a moan. He suckled at her tender flesh as she tensed beneath him and clung to his shoulders. He wanted her past ready, he wanted her ready to come again. He wanted her panting and moaning, on the verge of losing her mind with want.

  He gently stroked her, amazed again at how tight she was as she fluttered around him, squeezing his fingers in a vise grip. He tried not to lose himself too deeply in her, to keep a rein on his control, to push and to give. Her short, sharp nails scratched at his shoulders, and he sucked harder, nibbling with his teeth until she yanked at his hair and shouted, her legs spread and her hips shoved in his face. She was ready. And Lord knew he was.

  His breath came heavy as he leaned up and reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom. His fingers shook as he tore the package and slid it on. He was afraid if he hurried, he’d break it, but if he didn’t, she’d cool down and he’d have to start all over. Or at least, back up a bit.

  He settled again between her thighs and hovered over her, gently stroking her with his thumb and two fingers, making sure she was wet, stretched, and as relaxed as she could be. She tensed at the gentle probing of his fingers, and he paused, studying her. Her pale eyes were half-hidden beneath lowered lashes and her full lips were parted to allow shallow breaths to escape.

  He kissed her, sealing her mouth with his and gently adjusted her legs, high and wide beneath him. Slow and steady he pushed against her entrance, resisting the urge to fill her with one quick thrust. She tensed, her claws digging into his back as he pushed in only the head of hi
s cock and waited. He broke the kiss and kept his eyes shut, concentrated on his breathing, waiting for her to relax and let him slide in deeper. Where he found such inhuman amounts of control, he had no clue, but he waited, and slowly she relaxed beneath him. Finally, he could open his eyes and look at her.

  She watched him, her eyes luminous in the dim light. Her arms grasped his shoulders as some of the tension ebbed from her body. He bit his lip at the feel of her walls lightly fluttering around the head of his cock. The primal need to mate nearly did him in.

  “Ready?” He traced light kisses on her forehead and waited for her reply. She moaned and relaxed by degrees beneath him. He waited. He had all night. He’d waited six months. He now had the patience of a saint.

  “I’m dying,” she whimpered. “Surely nothing should feel this good.” Her eyes closed and her head rolled to the side. The last of her resistance disappeared. He slowly slid deeper and started a languorous figure eight, unable to hold back a smile at her gasp of pleasure. He continued to focus on her. On her every gasp and sigh, the surge of her hips beneath him as he kept his slow steady pace.

  He teased and tormented until she wriggled for release like she’d done earlier, her nails scratching his shoulder blades, peeling back the last of his own control. She began to contract around him as he picked up his pace. Still he held back, watching her, her pleasure. Every moan and sigh, every whimper only made him want to push her higher. He wanted to watch her lose every last ounce of control and he pushed and thrust and danced to that end.

  He grasped her hip and helped her keep pace. He wanted to feel her come on him, come with him. The feel of her around him was now too much.

  Six months of self-deprivation snuck up on him in one stroke, and he gave up all pretense of teasing her. No more figure eights, no more dancing. He wrapped her in his arms and thrust into her with a few smooth, sure strokes, his heart in his throat as he came with a hoarse shout.