“I like your rough hands,” Becca admitted, since they were being open and honest. It was easier when you weren’t looking at the other person’s face to confess things like that . . . and the fact that he’d just made her come so hard helped the words ease out of her, too. “I like them all over me.” And she squeezed the hand resting on her breast.
One rough finger moved back and forth, teasing the tip of her breast, and she had to bite back a moan. “Kinda like ’em all over you, too. You’re so soft.” His voice was full of wonder. “Everywhere.”
That made her blush. It was also turning her on again, and she thought about turning around and pushing him onto his back so she could go down on him, but his fingers were teasing her nipple so perfectly she was going to be selfish for a moment longer.
She arched against his touch, rubbing shamelessly against his hand. “What about you, though?”
“What about me?”
There was a wariness in his tone that hurt her. Like somehow, deep inside, he was expecting Becca to be using him the same way Adria used him. That if he didn’t get too invested, didn’t let her do the touching, then he’d be in control of the way he felt.
Well, screw that. If she was going in deep, so was he.
So Becca sat up, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, and looked down at Hank with her most sultry expression. “When do you get off?”
“Every night in the shower,” he admitted baldly, drinking her up with his gaze. “Thinking about you.”
And just like that, she was all turned on again. She crawled over him on the bed, feeling sexier than she ever had, and leaned down to kiss his mouth lightly. “Then maybe it’s time I get to touch you.”
“You don’t have to—”
Becca put a fingertip to his lips, quieting him. “You think you’re the only one with an imagination, Mr. Watson?”
The hungry look he gave her was aching with need. “Baby—”
“Shhh.” She tapped her fingertip over his mouth again. “I want to explore you a little. Unless it’d make you uncomfortable?”
He clenched his jaw, then mutely shook his head.
Biting her lip, she teased another button open on his shirt, and then leaned in to kiss the small bit of flesh exposed. He was wearing an undershirt beneath his button-up, but above the fabric, she could see a bit of thick chest hair. He was brawny and raw in all ways, her Hank, right down to his chest.
God, she’d never been so turned on by the sight of a hairy chest in her life. But this right now? This was absolutely doing it for her. Becca made a humming noise of pleasure in her throat, then slid one leg over his thigh until she was straddling him again, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and pulled it free.
He immediately sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, then flung the clothing aside and lay back down.
“Oh wow,” she breathed, gazing down at the muscled expanse before her. There wasn’t an inch of Hank that wasn’t rock hard, tanned, and ever-so-slightly hairy. She’d never been into a man with so much hair before, but it just made him seem a little more savage and untamed than a smooth chest would have, and she loved it. Becca leaned in, curling her fingers in the crisp hair, and then let her hand trail down his chest, her fingertips moving through the creases of his muscles. The man had freaking obliques, for goodness’ sakes, the vee disappearing into the waist of his jeans. He was literally hard everywhere.
Everywhere.
Her gaze slid down to the thick bulge inside his jeans. It was just as enormous as the rest of him, if the outline that met her gaze was to be believed. And, oh mercy, she was having fun with this. He was like a package that kept on giving. With a little humming noise, Becca reached for his belt and worked it free, then pulled it through the loops and flung it aside. Hank was breathing hard, his hands clenched at the sides of the bed, almost as if he were afraid to touch her.
Like he might want that too much.
Becca took his hand in hers once more and kissed his palm. It was rough and weathered, just like the rest of him, but it was also a turn-on. She knew what those calluses felt like against the insides of her thighs, against the slickness of her folds, and she loved the way they felt. With another quick kiss to his palm, she placed it on her breast and rubbed it against his hand. “Touch me while I touch you.”
He groaned like a man in pain. “Becca, baby . . .”
“I’m not going to stop unless you tell me you absolutely don’t want my mouth on your cock,” she teased him, wriggling as he found her nipple and began to coax it with his fingers. That was all it took for her core to feel hollow and needy and aching once more. “That you don’t want my tongue all over you, tasting you like you tasted me.”
“You know I want that,” he rasped.
“Then touch me and take that pained expression off your face.”
Hank grimaced. “Not pained.” His fingers stroked over her nipple again. “Just . . . concentrating so it doesn’t get too good too fast.”
Ah. Now, that, she understood. “You tell me if I need to ease up, then.” Her hand smoothed down over the bulge of his cock. Oh yeah, that was all him. Good lord, the man was built in every way. They made them big in Alaska, it seemed. “This is . . . impressive.”
“It’s because you’re so small.” His hand slid down her side, then went under her skirt and caressed her bare ass.
He made her sound like she was pocket-size instead of just short. “Not too small to take you in my mouth,” she murmured, and slid his zipper down carefully, just in case he wasn’t wearing underwear.
And . . . he wasn’t. That somehow didn’t surprise Becca. Hank wasn’t the type for fuss. Maybe this monster in his jeans didn’t fit right in the underwear he’d worn in the past. All she knew was that she didn’t care, because it meant one less barrier between them. She eased his pants down his hips slightly, and he lifted his hips to tug them down further to help her along.
Then his equipment was free and Becca got her first long look at the man in all his glory. Emphasis on glory, she decided, because he was impressively large. He was bigger than she’d ever seen—not that she’d had much experience—and instead of a slender wand, his dick was impossibly thick, a vein trailing up one side. The prominent head was a deep purple, drops of pre-cum already wetting his skin, and the entire package rested in a surprisingly tidy nest of dark hair between his lightly furred thighs.
Becca made a noise of pleasure in her throat and slid her hands down his thighs, framing his privates with her hands. “That is . . . wow.”
“Too much?” She could feel him tensing, as if he was a problem.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d ever use that term. Maybe . . . a ‘mouthful.’” She grinned at him. “You’re perfect, Hank.”
He gave her a sharp nod, and her heart pinged in her chest. For a man that had a child, he was acting very shy, and she reminded herself that his one week of sexual experiences hadn’t been great.
So she needed to make this amazing. He deserved to have better memories for his spank bank.
Becca leaned in and curled her fingers around his girth, testing him. Nope, her fingertips didn’t meet—but she did have small hands. Even so, it was fascinating to squeeze him and feel the tension and heat in that big, thick shaft. “This is making my mouth water,” she confessed. “I might not be able to hold off.”
His big hand squeezed her butt tightly, as if those words were just as erotic as a touch. “Do it.”
Oh, she would. She planned on it. Becca moved forward, squeezed him again, and then gave the head of his cock a long, slow lick.
Hank groaned as if pained.
She hummed in her throat again, loving the way his hips twitched and jerked as she touched him, and leaned forward to lick him once more. He was ever so slightly salty with pre-cum, and she licked up the drops and teased the he
ad of his cock with small circles. Her tongue played over his skin, toying, even as she squeezed and gently worked the base of his shaft.
His hand was gripping her ass so tight it was a wonder he didn’t shatter. She suspected he didn’t even realize how tense his body was, but she could feel it. He practically vibrated on the bed, a look of grim determination on his face, and she remembered what he’d said about concentrating.
As if it was a problem if he came quickly.
In fact, Becca decided that was her goal. She took him into her mouth, working him slowly deeper with lots of licking and coaxing. He didn’t fit nearly as well as she’d hoped, but that didn’t matter as long as she used her tongue to the best of her ability. She concentrated instead on licking and nibbling and working his base with slow, steady pumps of her hand. She murmured his name over and over, and told him how good he tasted and how much she liked it.
“Becca,” he rasped. “Need—”
“Do you want to come on my face or in my mouth?” she asked, flipping her hair back to gaze over at him. “You decide.”
He groaned as if in pain, and then his hips jerked and he was coming all over her hand. She squeezed him, working his length as he released. She waited for him to lie back and exhale, to catch his breath, before she got off the bed and retrieved a towel. Then she wiped her hands and gently cleaned him up. “Hank—”
The big guy grabbed her and pulled her down against him in the bed. This time, he curled around her with them face-to-face, and she smiled happily up at him.
“You might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured, thought for a moment, and then added, “Second-best thing.”
The first-best thing was obviously Libby. As a father, it made sense, and she knew he loved his daughter beyond reason. Second best to that? She’d take it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
One Week Later
Hank checked the shoes on his horse, using a pick to work caked mud free from the hooves. He’d been quiet all morning, fighting back yawns.
Even so, it was a good morning. He’d been out late with Becca. They’d driven into Casper to catch a movie—horror, his favorite—then promptly ignored the movie and made out the entire time. They’d managed to make it back to her house and get upstairs before the clothes came off. She’d sucked his dick so hard that he’d seen stars, and he’d gone down on her for what felt like hours. He’d made sure she’d come twice before taking a breather, and when they finally went to sleep, it was with his hand between her thighs, possessively holding her against him. He’d woken up incredibly early to be home in time to start the day’s chores, but he knew his brothers were bound to say something.
They always said something.
Caleb was the first one to speak. He leaned against the stall door, watching Hank as he worked, and then politely coughed. “Late night?”
Hank looked up at his brother and glared.
A moment later, Jack was there, his expression a little more gleeful. “Didn’t see you in your bed last night.”
“Why were you checking?”
“I slept on the couch. You know, because of all the uncle sleepovers we’ve been having.” Jack grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “We’ve been watching your kid. Least you can do is spill a little of the beans.”
He wasn’t wrong; they had been watching Libby more often. Not every night, because he wasn’t a shithead, but once or twice during the week, he wanted to have alone time with Becca, so he’d bribed his brothers to watch his little girl. “I paid you for that, too. Couple of hundred.” He worked a chunk of mud free. “You’re the most expensive babysitter ever.”
“It’s because we have to watch Frozen seventy times in a night,” Jack said. “Hazard pay.”
Caleb snorted. He watched Hank work for a moment longer and then tilted his head, regarding his brother. “You might wanna slow things down. Don’t wanna give her ideas.”
That made him straighten. He knew his brothers were just looking to get under his skin, but he was irritated at how effective those particular words were. “Give her ideas? Like what?”
“Uncle Ennis says that she’s the marrying type. Chased her old boyfriend all over town and tried to get him to marry her until he got smart and bailed a few days before the wedding.” Jack wiggled his eyebrows. “She might decide to lasso you next. Best be careful around that one. She sounds like a man-eater.”
“Doc said that, huh?” Hank commented, voice dry. He doubted that very much. Oh, there was probably a grain of truth somewhere in there, mixed in with Jack’s exaggerations. “That’s not what she’s like.”
“You sure?” Caleb asked, his expression thoughtful. “You’re over there every night.”
He scowled at his brothers. “She’s a good cook.”
“That’s because she wants a husband.”
They had it all wrong. Hadn’t Becca told him she wanted to keep things casual? And even though they were together every night, all over each other, they’d never gone beyond heavy petting and oral. It wasn’t because he was afraid of kids; that was for sure.
It was because that whole “casual” word haunted him every damned night.
Casual.
She wanted to be casual.
It drove him nuts. “Casual” was bullshit. What did that mean? That she wanted to go out with those guys that winked and flirted with her? That she wanted to keep her options open even though she was dating Hank?
He was obsessed with the word “casual,” and not in a good way. He was also obsessed with Becca, but that part he didn’t mind.
“Should we get tuxes?” Jack asked, teasing. “For the inevitable wedding?”
Hank turned and growled at his brother, alarming the horse. He immediately put a hand on Trixie’s neck, trying to calm her skittish movements. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do,” Jack said boldly, pretending to rub his short beard. Out of the three of them, he was the only one that cut his close to his jaw. Said it was to show off his baby face, but Jack was also never serious. “I think we’re just days away from you deciding you want a cute little bride to take back to Alaska with you once we finish up here.”
His nostrils flared. Hank knew he was going to upset the horse again, so he calmly left the stall and shut it behind him, then glared at Jack. “You’re wrong.”
Hank’s tone must have gotten through his brother’s thick skull. Jack exchanged a look with Caleb and they trailed after him as he headed deeper into the barn. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing,” Hank said gruffly.
“Something,” Caleb added, and waited.
He turned around and stared at his brothers, sighing deeply. They weren’t going to leave him alone until he confessed, and part of him wanted to. He wanted to get it out in the open so someone else could share his pain. So someone else would know what he’d been stewing over for the last week of bliss—and inward agony. After a moment’s hesitation, he admitted, “She knows I’m going back to Alaska so she wants to be casual.”
They stared at him.
Hank turned and left, and to his irritation, both of his brothers followed behind.
“Casual?” Jack asked. “What the hell does that mean?”
He threw his hands up. “Fuck if I know. It means . . . casual. I guess that we aren’t a thing. Not a real thing.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Caleb asked.
Hank snarled at him over his shoulder. “Does it look like I’m okay with that?”
“So don’t go back to Alaska,” Caleb said quietly.
Both Jack and Hank turned to look at him as if he was crazy.
Caleb just shrugged.
“No,” Jack said, rubbing his hands together. “You need a plan. You need to make her so in love with you that she can’t bear
to be apart from you. I think you’re already halfway there, but you need to seal the deal.” He grinned. “Then when you go back to Alaska, she’ll be begging to come with you and cook for us.”
“‘Us’?” Hank said flatly.
“Well, I sure don’t want to do the cooking.” Jack grinned. “It might be nice to have a woman around. She can help out with Libby and she can make sure your mood is better.” He elbowed his brother.
Hank didn’t elbow him back. He just shook his head, feeling rather defeated. “She has a business here, Jack. What’s she gonna do in a cabin in the middle of nowhere Alaska with just me and my two dumbass brothers? Paint our nails? Give the bears perms?”
Caleb snorted.
“Which is why you gotta romance the hell out of her,” Jack continued. “Make it so none of that shit matters.”
Strangely enough, Jack had a point. What if he could convince Becca that the perfect answer was going back to Alaska to be with him and Libby? He crossed his arms and gazed at his brother, curious. “What do you suggest?”
Jack lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “No clue. I’m no ladies’ man. Take her someplace and romance her. Surprise her in the middle of the day with a date or something.”
In the middle of the day? He frowned. “We both work. She has a business. She can’t just up and leave.”
“She cuts hair, Hank. It ain’t as if she’s saving lives.” Jack rolled his eyes.
“Just because it’s hair doesn’t mean it’s not a worthwhile job.” He pointed at his brother, irritated at his casual attitude. “She got all that gum out of Libby’s hair so I didn’t have to cut it like you suggested. She’s responsible and she cares about her clients.” Every time he went to her place, she was squeezing someone in at the last minute or fixing a trim, just because she knew it was important to her clients. Becca worked long hours and he didn’t want Jack talking down about her.
“Okay, well . . .” Jack crossed his arms, thinking. “If you can’t steal her away, maybe take her to a big dinner. A nice steak.”
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 15
