“We’ll go out through Calvin’s quarters,” Wyatt said with a nod in that direction. “His room has the same sort of exterior door that yours does, only his lets out toward the pasture. We’ll circle around the outbuildings and head up the hill farther to the north.”
My eyes widened as I noted that our potential sniper wouldn’t be the only one armed. Each man wore a holster slung low on his hip, the pale moonlight casting a gleam on a pair of pistols that wouldn’t have been out of place at the OK Corral.
I was pretty sure Wyatt Earp had survived that fight. Whether Wyatt McCabe would come back alive was less certain.
Get a grip, Tina. This isn’t the Wild West.
Wyatt must’ve caught my wide-eyed stare. He patted the holster. “In case we run into any rattlers.”
I couldn’t decide which was worse, a sniper or a snake. “Gee, thanks, Wyatt. That makes me feel so much better.”
Nick chuckled. “Don’t worry, Tina. He’s a pretty good shot—and I’m better than he is.”
I glanced at Wyatt for confirmation.
“Sometimes,” he conceded. “But not tonight.”
While I had no clue what he meant by that, I suspected the explanation would be lengthy, and time was something we couldn’t afford to waste. “You guys be careful.”
“We will,” Wyatt said. “Mind keeping watch ’til we get back?”
As if I would do anything else. “Sure.”
The two men barely made a sound as they disappeared through the doorway. Ophelia whined and started to follow them. I grabbed her collar and held on until I heard the soft click of the outer door closing.
“No way, Lia.” On any other occasion, I might have let her go, but not now. Not when stealth was required.
I carried one of the dining room chairs over to the window and sat down to watch. Ophelia curled up at my feet and began snoring almost immediately. Given the edgy state of my nerves, I never expected to get sleepy, but after a bit, I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling out of the chair.
A hand on my shoulder woke me with a yelp. “Warn me next time, will you?”
“I did,” Wyatt said, chuckling. “Fired warning shots and everything.”
“Oh, you did not.” I rose from the chair, rubbing my right arm, which had also fallen asleep. “Where’s Nick?”
“Gone back to bed.” Having already divested himself of everything but his T-shirt and jeans, Wyatt appeared to be headed in that direction himself.
“I take it you didn’t find anything.”
“Nope. Whoever it was must’ve been heading for the road when you saw that light. I bet we find some fences down in the morning.”
With no evidence to support my claim, most men would have told me that flash of light was nothing but a product of my overactive, hormone-driven imagination. Wyatt, on the other hand, still believed me. Granted, they’d already dealt with enough fencing problems for my story to have been plausible, but he didn’t even qualify his response.
“Guess you’d better get some sleep.” I hesitated, unsure whether it was safe to press my luck. “Sorry for sending you out on a wild-goose chase.”
“Don’t be. That was the first decent lead we’ve had.”
The silence between us stretched out long enough to feel awkward. “Good night,” I finally said. “Thanks for believing me.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Oh, you know—” I was about to say you know how men are until it struck me that I was talking to the one man to whom the general rules didn’t appear to apply. “Most guys would tell me I was imagining things.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t think you were. I’d be stupid not to go take a look.”
“You’re anything but that.” I must have been really sleepy because I hadn’t intended to say that aloud.
His next words proved I had.
“I’m glad you think so.” He grazed my cheek with his fingertips. “I’d really be stupid if I didn’t do this.”
Oh, God…
Spearing his fingers through my hair, he tilted my face upward, his searing gaze locking on to mine. The moment our lips touched, my eyelids fluttered down, and he ravaged my mouth with his kiss.
He didn’t stop there. My face, ears, and neck were all easy targets for his scorching kisses. Kisses that robbed me of breath, sapped the strength in my legs, and destroyed every scrap of willpower I possessed.
There had to be valid biological reasons for those reactions—hormones and foreplay combining to turn women into willing participants in a less than equitable arrangement. Perhaps females only crumpled in male arms to enable the guy to have his wicked way with her—or carry her off somewhere.
Which is exactly what Wyatt did.
By the time my back touched the mattress, I’d forgotten all about biology and willpower. Sleep was unimportant. Nothing mattered but the man in my arms.
The urgency that had been missing with Dean finally surfaced. I wasted no time yanking off Wyatt’s shirt, my palms and fingertips itching to make contact with his skin. Massaging his shoulders was nothing compared to this. The contours of his body were like classical sculpture beneath my hands, although unlike the cold hardness of marble, he was still hot from the exertions of the search.
The search. I didn’t care about that, either. Didn’t care that some imaginary fellow with an infrared scope could probably see our heat signature through the window. Very little could have stopped us now.
Drunk on his scent and his touch, I didn’t even consider offering any resistance. I was enhanced by him, made stronger, more complete, more real.
I didn’t have to be shy anymore, didn’t need to be. I could touch and caress any part of him I wished. His hair, his neck, his face, and the rest of that amazing body. They were mine now. I licked the side of his neck, tasting his salty skin before sinking my teeth into the taut muscles beneath. Biting him had gotten me kissed once before. What would it get me now?
A deep, guttural growl issued from his throat, transmitting the vibration to my lips.
“You’re playing with fire, Tina.”
I smiled against his neck when I really felt like laughing. If he thought I didn’t want him insane with passion, he had a lot to learn about me. I’d been hesitant with Dean, and now I understood why.
I wanted to be fucked—hard and fast and deep—by this man and this man only. But could I say it? Or should I simply make it impossible for him to do anything else?
“Am I really?” I whispered. “What else should I do? What makes you crazy?”
“You do,” he replied. “You make me crazy. I never thought it could happen to me. But from the first moment I laid eyes on you…” Another kiss dipped lower, and suddenly a button came undone. And another and another… “I thought I could stand back and let Dean have you, but I couldn’t do it. Just…couldn’t.”
One swipe of his tongue over my nipple sent me soaring. Every sensation was amplified—the touch, the sights, the sounds. Wyatt’s hands left a fiery trail as he slid them down my sides and under the waistband of my pajamas. Skimming my hips, he pushed my pants to my thighs. My body tingled as though his touch had exposed raw nerve endings. Cool air ruffled the curls between my legs.
His jeans went next, along with his briefs. It didn’t matter how; all I cared about was that he was naked. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against my stomach, leaving a trail of slick moisture as he moved downward, kissing his way from my lips to my breasts. Nudging my legs apart with his knee, he hesitated, his cockhead poised at my entrance, waiting.
For what? Permission?
“Go ahead, Wyatt,” I urged. “Make me scream.”
The first plunge did it, invading me with a shocking, exhilarating force. Ignoring the brief pain as my hymen gave way, I sucked in a breath and
grabbed his shoulders, anticipating the next wave of incredible delight. Thrust after thrust stretched and stimulated as stars came and went behind my shuttered eyes. My moans were real and insuppressible; I could neither fake nor stop them—or even stifle the sounds. He went on and on—pulsing, pounding, penetrating.
I opened my eyes to find his gaze riveted to my face, his expression fierce and exultant, yet tender, perhaps even vulnerable. I’d never seen such a jumble of emotions before, but the one thing I didn’t see was regret. Nor could he have seen it in my eyes because I had no regrets. None.
I was well aware that no barrier stood between us, and that the result of such an omission might well be a baby I would have to carry for nine months and then look after for the next eighteen years. I accepted the risk as well as the responsibility. Whether he felt the same remained to be seen.
His pace slowed to a heavy thud, the smack of our bodies occurring less often, but with no less enjoyment. My eyes rolled back in my head and were drifting shut when he spoke.
“I didn’t have a condom.”
He hadn’t said he’d forgotten to put it on or asked if he needed one. He’d been as unprepared as I was. “I noticed that.”
“Does it matter?”
I caught myself before saying the first word that came to mind, opting for the second and far more responsible reply. “Probably.”
He nodded. His speed didn’t change; only the force and depth of his thrusts increased. Three thrilling strokes later, I reached a euphoric plateau and hung there, suspended in space, delirious with joy.
“Sorry.” With what could’ve been a gasp or a sob, he withdrew.
The absence of his body inside mine was such a tremendous loss; I barely felt the spurt of semen on the back of my thigh.
I never wanted to feel either of those things again. Unless Dean was willing to give up his stash of condoms—and I had no intention of asking for them—I really needed to go to the store. It was either that or risk getting pregnant.
Abstinence was not an option.
Chapter 16
Despite having just been nailed by Wyatt McCabe, I was already anxious to do it again—immediately, if not sooner.
I say “nailed” because I couldn’t think of any other word that accurately described the experience, and even that one came up short. I couldn’t say we’d made love, because to the best of my recollection, love hadn’t been mentioned, no matter how much I suspected—or hoped—it would eventually be brought into play.
For the moment, I was more stunned than anything, and I had absolutely no idea what to say. Being a man of few words, I doubted Wyatt would start spewing poetry, or whatever it was men did in the wake of mind-blowing sex.
Unless it hadn’t been as mind-blowing for him. If it wasn’t, I really didn’t want to know.
But he did say I made him crazy, and I was pretty sure that was a good thing. Of course, now that we’d done the deed, he might not be crazy anymore. Perhaps he’d been cured.
Hmm… Clearly, I was thinking too much. Reminding myself that actions did, after all, speak louder than words, I turned on my side to give him more room to lie down, hoping he would take the hint.
He did.
God bless him.
As much as I hoped he would kiss me again, I knew I needed to be the one to initiate it. I touched his cheek with a gentle caress, then skimmed my fingertips through the hair at his temple. Reaching around to cup the nape of his neck, I pulled him closer. Had I ever done that to Dean? I honestly couldn’t remember. But I knew for a fact I’d never kissed Wyatt first. Until now.
The kiss we shared in the aftermath of sex was no less satisfying than those that preceded it. But the tone had changed somehow, becoming sweeter, more poignant. I didn’t know what to make of that, although it didn’t strike me as standard fuck-buddy stuff.
Knowing so little about him was frustrating when I wanted to know everything. Why he was so touchy about certain subjects. Why he was working on a ranch instead of in a fire station. Why he’d never thought “this”—whatever it was—would happen to him. Why the sexiest man I’d ever met wasn’t already taken. Why it scared me to think I might not be able to keep him.
Breaking off the kiss, I drew back, drinking in the sight of him. Moonlight twinkled in his eyes, highlighting the sharp planes of his nose, the arch of his brow, and the sensuous fullness of his lips. I’d never seen a stronger, more handsome face.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” he asked.
“You,” I replied, tracing his uniquely shaped eyebrows with a fingertip. “Just you.”
A tiny smile dimpled one cheek. “Like what you see?”
“Very much.”
He acknowledged the compliment with a self-conscious clearing of his throat. “Never figured I’d get this lucky, especially after you left the mess hall in such a hurry.”
“I was feeling kinda picked on.”
“Sorry about that. We don’t know how to behave around a woman like you.” His smile became a grin that creased the corners of his eyes. “Or as Dean once put it, a gorgeous blond.”
I doubted Dean would put it quite like that since I’d called off our no-strings deal. “What’s he calling me now? A two-timing bitch?”
“If he did, Nick and Sonny would pound him into the dirt and Bull and Joe would finish him off.”
“Why on earth would they do that?”
Wyatt’s sudden burst of laughter made him look so boyishly handsome, I barely recognized him as the man who’d been so brusque with me when I first arrived. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re pretty popular with all the guys. Bull’s even talking about nominating you for sainthood in that crazy religion of his—patron saint of cowboys or some such bullshit.”
I gaped at him for the space of about three heartbeats. “He must’ve really liked that cobbler.”
“Come on now, Tina. It’s more than the food, and you know it.”
Actually, I didn’t—unless I’d passed through some sort of transformational portal during the drive from Louisville. “I’ve never known any guys to be that”—I hesitated, searching for the right word—“fond of me.”
He shrugged. “Maybe that’s because you never gave them the chance. I’m guessing your grandpa was pretty fond of you.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Yes, but he was family, and I used to cook for him too.”
“Whatever. None of that matters right now anyway.” Leaning forward, he kissed me again, effectively putting an end to the discussion. “Guess I’d better get going or neither one of us will get any sleep tonight.”
He was right, of course. For one thing, the bed wasn’t big enough for two people. For another, Wyatt’s kisses weren’t exactly conducive to sleep, nor was having his shockingly male body within arm’s reach. If we ever did find ourselves in a larger bed, actually sleeping with him would take some getting used to.
I would also have to get used to seeing him naked. At the moment, however, watching him climb out of bed and bend over to snatch his clothes from the floor was an event in itself. Being a spectator while he pulled on his T-shirt and briefs was more erotic than I ever would have imagined.
With another kiss and a quick “’Night, darlin’,” he headed for the door.
“Good night—” I stopped short as I found myself on the horns of a new dilemma. What on earth should I call him? Sweetie? Honey? Cupcake? None of those seemed to fit. For now, his name would have to suffice. “Wyatt. Sleep well.”
As he closed the door behind him, I glanced at the clock, wincing at the late hour. With so little left of the night, falling asleep quickly was advisable. Unfortunately, with all the food for thought he’d given me, my brain refused to shut down.
Sainthood, huh? I didn’t want to be a saint. Following that first kiss with Dean, I’d wanted to be bad. I hadn’t quite made it to the finish l
ine, but my shyness had dissipated considerably, enabling me to say and do things I might not have had the nerve to do otherwise. The question now was, could I be bad with Wyatt?
I was still trying to decide whether I’d already done that when my alarm went off.
Time to make the biscuits.
At least, I thought that was what I was supposed to do that day. To be perfectly honest, I was a little fuzzy on exactly which day it was.
Pancakes yesterday meant biscuits and sausage gravy today. The menu seemed a bit lacking in vitamins, so I figured I’d chop up some fruit for a salad.
Have to keep my cowboys healthy.
If I didn’t die from lack of sleep first. Blinking against the sunlight already streaming in through the window, I sat up, feeling around for my slippers. It occurred to me that without Wyatt in my bed as proof, I might’ve dreamed it all—even that first trip to the bathroom after he left. Having heard a few horror stories about “honeymoon” bladder infections from my friends, I’d had sense enough to get up and empty my bladder. My torn hymen had stung a bit at the time, but at the moment, I suspected I would have more trouble walking than peeing.
Perhaps I hadn’t dreamed it after all.
I glanced at Ophelia. “Think I ought to do some stretching exercises before breakfast?”
My spayed and presumably virgin dog replied with a noncommittal yawn before strolling over for her morning dose of affection.
“Guess not.” I ruffled her ears. “You’re such a brave girl. You would’ve gone out with Wyatt and caught the bogeyman last night if I’d let you. Wouldn’t you, Lia?”
Her response was a soft whine that I took for a yes, but which probably only meant she needed to go out right now. Staggering to my feet, I stumbled to the door and opened it. “Watch out for rattlesnakes,” I advised as she trotted past me. Closing the door, I shivered from the morning chill. I still hadn’t come to terms with the Wyoming weather. Back home in Louisville, Derby week was about to commence. Horse races were being run, tulips were in bloom, and mint juleps were the drink of choice. Although Derby Day was occasionally wet and chilly, the first Saturday in May usually meant warmer temperatures.
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