She looked up, having lost a slight difference in height, and her eyes flared green, the pupils dilating. A good night kiss, then. A peck. He reached out and with only tacit permission lowered his mouth over hers.
On a startled gasp, her lips parted, and he took advantage, yet maintained control, alert to any distress. It separated him into distinct parts that soon melded when she pressed into him, her arms wreathing around his neck.
He learned her, her taste and texture, reveling in her response, swallowing her tiny moans. When he pulled away to breathe, resting his forehead against hers, she sagged in his arms and he kept her steady.
His heart pounded in tandem with hers, and he was so hard he hurt. She shivered, and he said, “Do I need to apologize? Because it’ll be difficult.”
In a whisper, she said, “No need. I’m just sorry I’m so out of practice.”
“If you’re out of practice, I hope to kiss you when you’re at your best.”
Tipping her head back, she met his eyes before glancing away. “I don’t do this on a first date. I don’t date. Lord.”
He eased his body away from hers, regretting that he’d encroached on her personal space. She tugged him back. “But I want to. I want you. If that makes me a—”
He stopped her with a hard kiss. “Don’t. Don’t make this a bad thing.”
Her lips twitched in a tremulous smile. “I don’t want to overthink it.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised.
He lost his Stetson and shrugged out of his jacket, bemoaning any inability to keep a hand on her as she tugged a zipper hidden in a side seam of her dress and let it slither down the length of her body to pool at her feet.
His fingers froze on the snaps of his shirt as he took in the sight of her in scraps of pink lace and honest-to-God thigh-high stockings. With a dry mouth, he wrenched the placket apart and threw the shirt to one side, gathering her to him, nuzzling the hollow at the base of her neck and then down to the tops of her breasts.
“You’re stunning.”
She arched into him, and he fumbled with the clasp and freed those gorgeous mounds that tumbled into his waiting hands. Soft skin tipped with beaded nipples he desperately wanted to get his mouth on. And her sultry scent…
His belt buckle pressed into her belly, and he made one hand abandon its prize and yank open the offending metal, dealing with the button and zipper while he was at it. His cock breathed a sigh of relief—he swore it—as his mouth found its target.
“God, Carter.” She rocked into him, and he sucked harder, gently using his teeth against the tip.
Her hands found his hips and pushed his jeans down, dragging his boxer briefs with them. The sensation of her fingers on his ass made him groan, his pelvis thrusting, his cock against her center. At this rate, he’d disgrace himself.
When she sought him out, he turned with her, hobbled by his own jeans, the ignominy nearly making him smile as he held her against the wall. “Touch me, darlin’, and I’ll lose it all over your sweet hand.”
“Out of practice, too,” she teased, her hair awry and her mouth swollen. “I’m so ready, Carter.”
He worked his hand beneath her panties, staring into her eyes, soaking in the pleasure sparking there when he found her apex, full and wet. “You are.”
Still, he played at her entrance, then feathered over the knot above, making her rise on her toes and whimper. “Please.”
It took some awkward gymnastics to get a hand into his jeans’ pocket and lift his wallet, all while touching her, but he managed it. Somehow got the condom out and open and smoothed on.
Pushing aside the fabric guarding her pussy, he bent his knees a fraction and set his cock at her opening. With a single thrust, he filled her, freezing in place as they both adjusted. She was wet but so fucking tight. She’d said she didn’t do this, didn’t date. Christ. How long had it been?
“You okay?” he rasped, willing her to open her eyes.
As if on cue, her lashes fluttered open, and he drowned in the depths behind them. Urgent need enticed him, and he responded, easing out and pushing back in. Heated, wet satin sucked at him as he powered toward orgasm, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
But he wasn’t getting there alone. Watching her for any signs, doing his best to ignore the pull at the base of his spine, he found her sweet spot and swiveled his hips to take her there. She responded by working herself against him, her breath increasing in shallow pants as she crested.
With a short cry, she tensed and clamped on him, shuddering, her head grinding against the wall. There was no resisting her, and he followed her over, emptying himself. He set his teeth on the top of her shoulder and muffled his groan, then kissed the spot reverently.
When he was satisfied his knees would hold him, he pulled out, overcome by post-orgasmic stupor.
With a fleeting look he couldn’t decipher, Kathleen slipped past him and fled out the door, presumably to the bathroom. Admiring her swaying ass, Carter cursed under his breath as he dealt with the condom and then crouched to deal with his jeans and underwear. He wrestled them up and pulled off his boots, hopping like a fool, alternating feet. Smooth move.
With his jeans zipped, he ventured across the hall. Tapping on the door, he called, “Okay, Kathleen?”
Her response was muffled, and he hoped she wasn’t crying. Had she really wanted him? Like that? Up against the fucking wall? “Give me a minute.”
He heard the shower running. Responding to instinct, he opened the door and stepped inside, a pink scrap of lace beneath his foot. The long length of Kathleen’s back and the swell of her buttocks were visible through the transparent shower curtain, which was beaded with water and coating with steam. The sight poleaxed him.
“Darlin’?”
She turned and stared at him, all that hair like wet caramel flowing over her shoulders. Full breasts rested on her torso, and full thighs framed pale curls. With a languid smile, she pushed the curtain aside. His jeans came off with alacrity, and he joined her.
His shower was roomier, but he wasn’t complaining. There was always tomorrow. But for now, he had a woman to tend to.
After lathering up his hands, he smoothed them down her arms, making sure she had the warmth of the water cascading over her, despite his chilled rear. “I did you up against a wall.”
“I noticed.” She rubbed soap on his chest, tracing around a nipple then following the trail of hair on his belly downward.
Jeez. He’d been drained, and yet somehow that part of him hadn’t received the message as it woke up. “You’re okay?”
“Never been better.” Her smile confirmed it.
He pushed into her questing hand.
She jacked him but was careful with the sensitive head. She might be out of practice but she’d been married, and he supposed she’d had a healthy sexual relationship. Her happy memory of her husband had been evident in her voice when she’d shared.
He wasn’t going to be jealous of a dead man, not even a bit envious. She was in his arms now, and he’d do right by her. “I’ll slow it down this time.”
Releasing him, she said, “No complaints about before, Carter. It was … amazing.”
He hastened his efforts to bathe her, his chest puffed up like a randy teen’s, his cock primed and ready again. Satisfied they were clean, smirking at her tiny moans and shudders as he teased her folds under the guise of washing them, he stepped out, grabbing for a towel.
Swiping the worst of the moisture off their skin, he laughingly manhandled her into her room and collapsed on the bed. This time around, he was going to map every inch of her and take it slow, prolong their mutual pleasure, draw it out… Somehow he’d haul his ass up in the morning and get the work completed, knowing she’d be there, waiting, when he got done.
A vague warning bell clanged in the depths of his head but silenced at her moan when he lavished attention on her breasts again.
Chapter Four
She ached in mysterious places, a deliciou
s soreness she recalled from her early years with Samuel when they screwed like minks. But this was now, and Carter had made her feel this way. Probably, she should be experiencing morning-after regret and worrying about the consequences from last night, but she wasn’t going to give it a thought—there was nothing she could do about it. The orgasms were a really fond memory, and she selfishly wanted a refresher, but a hot bath was in order first.
Her bed, with its unaired sheets, was fragrant with the smell of sex, and she stretched luxuriously. She had a vague recollection of Carter easing out of bed at some ungodly hour, certainly before the sun cracked the horizon and shone its golden fingers through the gap in the curtains.
She felt rested enough to get up and greet the day, so she swung her legs over the mattress and sat up. The protest of untried muscles made themselves known more insistently, and she clambered out of bed on a wince.
She wrapped up in a sheet—she could have sworn she’d heard a number of male voices earlier, and it wouldn’t do to run into someone naked. Unless it was Carter. She smiled to herself.
She drew a hot bath while she used the facilities and mastered a small shriek when she saw her bird’s nest hair. The sight sent her dashing back to her room for her makeup kit.
Searching through the vanity drawer netted her some abandoned hairpins of an ancient sort, and once she wrestled the tangles and snarls into submission, she piled the strands on top of her head and secured them.
She lowered into the steaming water and let it ease her stiff and sore parts. The soap in the guest bath wasn’t exactly luxurious, or feminine, and she’d nearly winced when Carter had soaped her up, but it was all that was available. She gingerly washed again and hoped the small bottle of lotion in her bag would suffice to do her entire body.
Once dry, she eked out the lotion and used the residue on her hands to smooth her hair. Needs must. After applying deodorant and a hint of mascara and lip gloss, she donned her jeans and t-shirt, shoving her phone in the back pocket. Then she stripped the bed. Presumably, Carter had a washer and dryer.
She peeked into his room and stilled. For as clean and neat as he appeared, his room was … indescribable. She hardly knew him and surely tidying was presumptuous. Shrugging, she gathered up the dirty clothes and wrapped them in her sheets.
A look at the bed explained why he’d done her in the guest room. She grabbed those sheets too, and after a brief hesitation, the duvet. The towels in his bedroom joined the pile, and she wrestled everything downstairs.
They’d done the nasty—more than once—so she’d use that intimacy as a reason to do laundry. And no sense in wasting water on a small load. A hint of regret wormed its way in—she’d be leaving today, and this sense of being separate from the real world would soon end. Not to mention facing some discordant music on Monday. Nothing she could do about that, she reminded herself, and this was better than fretting alone in her little house. Far better.
As she took in her surroundings in daylight, she noted the general neglect of the beautiful home. Oh, structurally it was probably sound, but there was dust everywhere, and she doubted the floors had been washed in forever. And all the glorious woodwork was dull from lack of polish. She didn’t approach the windows, figuring they’d be a bitch to look out of.
Not my business.
Ignoring her inner voice, she found the kitchen and hugged her enormous burden close. Holy crap. The big wooden table sported the remains of the meal of maybe six people—or twelve. The smell of burnt toast and overdone bacon, maybe sausage, still permeated the air. A pan of congealed eggs caught her eye.
Skirting the debacle, she moved to a doorway beyond. She found the washer and dryer in the mudroom. Aptly named. The floor made her wish she’d stepped into her sneakers, but she’d eschewed them as in her world people didn’t wear shoes in other people’s houses. Last night was an exception as Carter hadn’t removed his boots. No wonder.
After dropping a towel down, she shuffled along on it and sorted out the whites and colors, getting a load going. The basic detergent caused her lips to purse, so she added another scoop. There wasn’t a sign of softener, not in sheet or liquid form, and she didn’t want to think about static.
She was dying for coffee and made a pot after cleaning the coffeemaker, rinsing the carafe a million times. At least the coffee was good quality. While it perked, she scraped plates and pans into an overflowing garbage can, tying off the bag when she was done. Where did a person put garbage bags on a ranch? She settled for hauling it to the mudroom.
Everything else became rote, washing dishes and cutlery in water as hot as she could stand, with more harsh soap, scrubbing until her fingers hurt. Good grief. Finished, she washed down the table and chairs and changed out the laundry.
Working on her third cup of coffee, she contemplated the floor and shook her head, schlepping upstairs to grab her shoes, stopping in the bathroom to wipe the bottoms of her feet. As she settled at the table with a slice of toast and yet another cup of joe, the door in the mudroom flew open and booted feet stalked in.
“What the hell?” Carter’s unmistakable voice drifted to her.
He stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. “Kathleen?”
“You were expecting someone else?” Her entire body reacted to his presence, her chest tightening and her core heating. He looked freaking amazing in jeans, a canvas jacket, gloves, and a ubiquitous hat with stubble on his strong jaw. Totally cowboy. She hoped she’d read his interest correctly and she wasn’t the only one wanting more.
“I… No. But there’s laundry going and the freaking kitchen… I’d hoped to get here before you got up, straighten up.” He leaned her way and hesitated.
She wasn’t above begging for a kiss. “Want me to come to you?”
On a laugh, he closed the distance and, after stripping off his gloves, cupped her face in his hands. His cool lips met hers and rapidly heated as he kissed her soundly. He smelled of the outdoors and horse.
When she could put a few words together, she said, “I made coffee.”
“Sure.” He pivoted to the cupboard and stilled. “You did dishes.”
“I couldn’t find a clean cup.”
“Jesus, darlin’. I should have warned you, let you know what you were getting in to, staying here. The motel might have been a better bet.” He dropped into a chair with his cup held in one big hand.
“What happened in here?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. The usual. I put breakfast together for the hands, but there wasn’t time for cleanup. There never is. So we went to work, and I figured on getting to it after. Or having one of the hands do it and making lunch.”
His raised brows denoted the unlikeliness of that happening, and her curiosity was piqued. “Don’t you take turns? Or have another employee to do it?”
“Nope. I can’t get a housekeeper. The hands aren’t inclined, and I need them out there, anyhow.”
“I’ll do the floors,” she said.
“Nope.”
“I can’t stand them.” Her honesty made him flinch.
“They’re a mess,” he conceded.
“No one takes off their shoes?”
He studied his boots. “We kinda got away from it. Rushing all the time. That’s what the mudroom is for. We’re supposed to shuck our overalls and boots.”
“Not a lot of overall shucking. I cleaned the chairs.”
He rolled his head back and then met her stare. “And you haven’t run screaming. You’re amazing.”
Remembering when—and why—she’d used pretty much those same words last night, she flushed. Carter’s gaze heated.
“Uh-uh. Whatever you’re contemplating, I need a break.” She was so comfortable with him, as though she’d known him forever. She read him like a book and had no issue speaking her mind.
“Maybe later.” His intent regard tempted her.
“Maybe.”
“I’ve got a few minutes. Want to meet some horses? Take a loo
k around?”
“Absolutely.”
He scanned her clothing. “Merry left a pair of boots here.”
“I wear a size ten. She’ll be a six or so.”
He frowned, then brightened. “What size in a man’s?”
She knew that. “An eight.”
“Josh might have a pair. He’s a small guy.” He lifted a radio from a pocket and mumbled into it. A quick response had him nodding. “You can use his spare pair. I don’t want you around the animals without proper footwear. I’ll find a jacket.”
The jacket ended up being an unsavory pair of long-sleeved overalls, in a dirty shade of tan with suspicious stains on them, but she donned them—and the boots, which required a heavy pair of socks to help them stay on her feet.
Carter stole another kiss. “Cute.” He plunked a Stetson on her head.
Right. She could imagine. But if he liked what he saw… She wanted to laugh at the turn her life had taken. It was surreal and so distant from the city. She most certainly wasn’t going to think about what she’d face Monday, and instead, live in this moment.
She fell in love with Becky, a sweet-faced black mare with white socks and a white blaze between her eyes. She even clambered on top of the horse, onto a huge saddle that cradled her reassuringly enough that the ground didn’t look so far away.
Carter led her around for a while before helping her off. “You need to work up to learning to ride, or you won’t walk tomorrow.”
“Might spoil your plans, too,” she murmured, aware there was a cowboy doing something in another room in the barn.
Carter’s doubly heated stare was answer enough.
He took her on an ATV, a kind of a noisy cross between a golf cart and a motorcycle, to have a look at the herds of cattle, so many of them, spread across vast areas of pasture. They were mostly white, but she couldn’t keep the name of the breed in her head. He said he was breeding them with Angus and some other breed, improving the quality of the meat.
She kept her distance, already attracted to the gamboling calves and their protective moms. She liked a good steak, and she closed her eyes against the thought, refusing to connect the dots.
Foolin' Page 4
