by Susan Arden
“And you changed. A whole one-eighty. Just from what I said outside?”
“Sommer, I want to marry you. And, if you’re serious and sincere about giving me an answer, then yes. I’m all for us making a decision to move forward and bypass a holding pattern for the next few years. It’s time.”
“So, this is part of a plan. Sounds like a to-do list,” she returned.
“You’re seeing my wanting to meet you halfway as wrong. Sugar, I can’t be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Unless it’s all an excuse.”
She and Rory stopped moving on the dance floor. They stood there in another standoff and neither refused to budge. Then she noticed that the other couples were casting sidelong glances in their direction. Should she inform them that this was one more disagreement in a long line of disagreements she and Rory had had? Or maybe, she should just come right out and make a general announcement that everyone should mind their own cotton-picking business.
The sensible side of her should be overjoyed that he was finally coming around—listening to her and showing her that he respected her opinion. But the other part of her—the fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants side—was having a problem. That side disliked the taste of planning the when and where they’d finally go wild and have at it.
Seriously…who makes plans to be reckless? The whole idea went against her grain. Made her grind her teeth, curl her fingers, and purse her lips.
“Can we talk over there?” She pointed toward an empty table and he nodded, moving his hand to her elbow and leading her off the dance floor. She waited until they were off to the side and met his expectant gaze before speaking. “There’s no excuse…it’s just daunting. To hear us plan on first dancing, then leaving, then going somewhere. While we’re driving there, we’ll be nervous—or maybe it’ll just be me—but anyway…we’ll get to wherever we’re going and then what? We undress, already knowing what’s going down.”
“So. What’s the problem?” he asked, his fingers lingering on her skin. “If I say yeah, but it’s not on your terms, then it’s a no-go. Sounds like a control issue.”
“Not true. Can’t you see what I’m saying?”
“You’re against us planning. But I didn’t say boo about what we’d do when we left. Hell, I don’t have a clue. So if there’s a plan, I don’t have it. Didn’t get the memo, baby. I just want to be with you. Damn, I need to be with you tonight. Sommer, let’s go get naked.”
Sometimes Rory knew just what to say, and now was one of those times. “Where do you want to go? Since neither one of us has our own place.”
“My cousin has a place. Or my brother. But those are out on the ranch.” He held her gaze. “We’d have to do something you might not like.”
Holy hell, what was he talking about? How far did he think she was willing to go on the first time? “Excuse me?”
“Hearing that you’re dead set against plans.” He canted closer. “Sugar, we can’t go hog-wild. We need some boundaries and can’t cross them because being naked blows our minds. Which by the way, I fully expect to do with you, unless we set some limits.”
His fingers were on her, burning through her shirt. “Like what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing more than oral. You okay with that?” He shot her a scorching look that had her melting next to him. Rory McLemore was going to go down on her if she agreed to what he proposed. Umm. Let’s see…HELL YES! She wanted to smack herself for badmouthing the downside of planning. This type of list making kicked her craving for her cowboy into overdrive.
She swallowed, raising her right hand, and pledged, “I promise.”
“Then let’s go, Kincaid,” he said and lead her toward the fire exit. They rushed through the doorway with an alarm buzzing over their heads, and neither of them slowed their pace. For a second, she couldn’t focus and didn’t see where his truck was parked, but apparently he did. When she faltered, he turned toward her and gave her a ravenous look. “I can carry you, if needed.”
“I just didn’t know where your truck was parked.”
Rory jutted his chin to the side. “Over there.”
They walked in between cars and he had his keys in his hand, steering her toward the passenger side. After opening her door and lifting her up into the cab, he hesitated for a millisecond. His eyes lowered to her legs, followed by his fingers straying to her knees, pressing her legs wider as though he were considering what she was about to give him.
Oh God, she wanted him to touch her and stroked his hand. “Rory,” she murmured, unsure what to do.
“Tonight, I’m going to taste you.” A muscle ticked along his jaw and he swung her legs inside, before closing her door. She watched him come around to the driver’s side and climb in. All the while, her pulse clattered loudly in her ears.
Rory flipped up the console and patted the seat next to him. “Over here.”
Sommer slid along the leather, cool against her bare thighs. The sensation heightened her awareness of how damp her panties were and how much she’d waited for and wanted this day to arrive. Seemed like forever.
She scooted toward him and whispered, “I’m nervous.”
Holding out the seatbelt, he reached over her lap as soon as their legs touched to buckle her in.
He lowered his head, stopping a hairsbreadth above her mouth. “I could fuck you tonight—all night—but I’m not going to. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll stop and take you home. I’m so close to exploding, but I’d do damn near anything to prove to you that we’re good together. I want you to be my wife. The mother of my babies. The woman I grow old with. I might be young and a McLemore, but I know what I want. It’s you, Sommer. Always has been. Always will be.”
Then he kissed her mouth, sealing their lips, and locking them together.
Holy Mother!
Why on earth did he want her? She didn’t know what was coming after her next breath, and he was looking into the future…the long way off kind of view. How did he know they would stand the test of time? She gave up thinking and gave into the erotic stroke of his tongue wedging open her lips. Tonight, she’d have to hold back from wanting him to fill her completely. “Please,” she silently prayed. Give me the strength to steer clear of hopping aboard the crazy train once he to touches me.
HE drove along the highway and turned off the exit they’d taken hundreds of times before. Yet tonight was far, far different from the same old drive. The air inside the truck all but crackled from the silent sexual tension building between them.
Oh Jesus. What if they saw someone from his family? She didn’t even think to ask which cousin. If he was talking about a brother’s empty house, it would have to be Brandon’s. She already knew Brandon was away with Mia, his fiancée. They were in Dallas for the weekend to complete Mia’s wedding gown fitting. Both Sommer and Rory were part of the wedding party, and she already had her bridesmaid’s dress. Her mind spun through the details, and suddenly screeched to a stop.
“What if it feels so fantastic that we want more?” she asked when he turned the corner and the sign for Evermore Ranch flashed overhead.
He slowed the truck at the street—really, a narrow gravel drive that forked. One side veered off, going behind the barns. The other side ran along the fence line, right up to Brandon’s home. She’d been there. Ate there. Toasted the birth of Stephen and Gillian’s baby girl a few months ago. Don’t keep going with that line of thought, Sommer. I won’t be able to kiss Rory, forget doing anything hotter.
“We won’t do more than going down on each other. If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” He stroked a knuckle along her jaw.
“I want to. It’s just I know it’ll be really good. Unbelievably good.” She lowered her gaze to her fingers, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.
Gently, he squeezed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Baby, we don’t have any birth control. I’m not going to fuck you all the way and risk getting you pregnant. We won’t become a cliché. Trust me.”
> “I do…trust you.”
“Then c’mon. Let’s take us deeper.” He stepped on the gas, and in seconds they were parked in Brandon’s driveway. Rory didn’t waste time. No sooner had he parked, than he was coming around to her side of the truck.
“Where are we going?” she asked as soon as he opened her door.
“A guest bedroom. That okay?”
She nodded, looking up toward the front door. “They won’t get mad…will they?”
“Not in a million years. Mia and Brandon are cool.” Rory led her toward the front of the house. The landscaped beds on either side of the walkway were recently planted along with new flood lights installed and made her feel as though she were walking on stage and her stomach tightened. A memory from acting in high school plays flashed in her mind—only there wouldn’t be any applause tonight.
Up ahead, Rory unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm, holding it open for her. He waited until she was inside, then followed after her, closing and locking the door. “You want a drink? Something from the bar? I’m sure there’s everything under the sun here.”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” She felt tiny in the foyer, and smaller as they walked into the living room with the tall, exposed beam ceilings. Twin leather couches formed an open seating area, bracketing a low-slung cocktail table with magazines spread on top. Therapy journals for Mia. She’d just finished her graduate degree and had opened a small practice in town.
Right now, she needed to get her head checked. How had she believed—for a red second—that this was going to be a walk in the park? She tried to remember a magazine article she’d read once about how to drive a guy crazy, and couldn’t recall one word of advice. Maybe something about using ice…or was it hot water? Or did that have to do with a Jacuzzi?
She’d be the worst at giving…she couldn’t even think the term. Fellatio, a wicked voice whispered and snickered.
Going down on him.
Giving head.
A blowjob.
A heat wave scorched over her face. Just stop.
Rory entwined their fingers and she jumped like a scared cat. “On second thought, how about some wine. Share a glass with me,” she said.
“Okay. Red or white?” He kissed the side of her head.
“That sounds good,” she replied. Her tongue went numb in her mouth. God, it was easier to do things on the fly. Is that why she had a tendency to make off-the-cuff decisions, ‘cause it was easier to commit without having to think? Well, hell…that revelation needed some serious revisiting. Tomorrow.
“I don’t recall ever seeing you this on edge.” Suddenly Rory pulled her to him, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t be uneasy.”
“What if I suck at—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Baby, I want you so much, holding you in bed would be incredible. How about that wine…red or white?”
“White. Please.”
“One step at a time,” he suggested. “A glass of wine. Nothing complicated in that.”
She peered up at him. “Are we spending the night together?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want to?” He kissed her firmly on the mouth before he released her and walked to the bar.
“I have to be at the parlor early. Well, not too early, considering the time you get up.”
He brought out a bottle from the wine cooler under the bar, and set it on the counter, peeling away the seal and then focused on her. “I’ll have you back to your house whenever you’d like. Seven or eight?”
“By eight. At least.”
Rory popped the cork, poured a glass of wine, and walked over to her. “I’ll take care of you.”
They walked down the hall, past the guest bathroom, and that’s as far as she’d ever gone on this side of Brandon’s house. He opened a door, flipped on a light from a small bedside lamp, and waited for her to enter. The room was a bedroom done in varying shades of blue and beige. Dark wood, uncluttered, and looked the epitome of an unused guest room. He closed the door, and the finality of hearing the snick of the hardware echoed in her mind.
She clasped the glass of wine and remembered to take a sip, which turned into a gulp. Before she drained it, she set the glass down on the nightstand. Frozen, she watched Rory remove his hat and rake his fingers through his hair. He was even more handsome without the obstruction over his face and minus the shadows cast from the brim.
Inhaling a breath, she let go of her purse strap, and dropped her bag onto a chair next to the bed as Rory removed his boots, then his socks. He went for his belt and she stalled, staring at his fingers unbuckling the thick leather, followed by the snap of him pulling his belt free. She should be undressing but she couldn’t. For all her fast and easy talk of how she’d whip off her clothes, she clung to the chair while he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and then slipped it off his shoulders. The tanned expanse of his skin—golden and gleaming in the low lights of the bedroom—held her attention. He was built with rippling cut abs, smooth except for a happy trail that led from his navel to his waistband before disappearing lower. Her eyes darted downward to the bulge clearly defining the front of his jeans.
“Want me to undress you?” he asked. “We’ve waited a long time for this.”
“Please.” Her gaze rebounded to his face and she realized he was coming for her. Rory crossed the space, eating up the distance between them. Stopping before her, he touched her face. His warm fingers grazed across her jaw, and she lifted her hands to his waist. Naked muscled flesh rippled against her skin. She inhaled his familiar, masculine scent and relaxed—or tried to. He knelt and removed her boots and socks, one by one before rising before her.
“Sommer, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he untied her top. The feel of his hands on her and his voice…this moment she’d dreamt about—the whispered caress of her name, spilling from his lips, sent a rush of goose bumps over her body in giddy anticipation.
“I’m so nervous and you’re so sure,” she whispered.
They’d basically reversed roles as he untied her elaborately knotted shirt. Each lacing he loosened and undid, cinched her chest tighter and tighter. Her muscles constricted and she tried to remind herself to relax—just give into the exquisite feel of Rory’s hands on her body. Her hands on him. Together, they were finally crossing the Rubicon of lust and aching need.
“I’ll take care of you. Always, baby.”
His nostrils flared when the last lace was untied and her shirtfront hung open between them. His warm hands moved upward, covering her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples through a thin strapless camisole. Rory pulled her camisole down, freeing her breasts into his waiting hands. He spread his fingers over her curves, covering her skin with his warm, large palms, and lowered his head, capturing her mouth. She pushed up against his hands, wanting to feel more of him touching her skin. Her confusion ceased, and her nervousness dwindled as he kissed it all away. At first, his mouth on hers was a balmy summer breeze…tempting and delicious. She opened her lips against his, and their kiss morphed into a tsunami. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, deeper and with more assurance. He bit her bottom lip as he palmed her breasts, kneading her flesh, and rolling her nipples between his fingers.
“That feels so, so good.” She moaned his name, roaming her fingers lower on his waist, dragging her fingertips along the top of his jeans.
“It’ll feel better when I suck on your tits,” he breathed out against her mouth.
Oh hell yeah. She reached for her shirt, but while pushing the material off her shoulder, her hands tangled in her shirt. “Help,” she huffed.
“Slow down.” Rory took hold of her shirt and removed it. “There. Damn, baby. I’ve always wanted to see your piercings.”
Half-naked, she stood before him, and relished watching him playing with her breasts. His large tan hands, rubbed over her heaving chest, teasing her senseless. He sunk down on the edge of the bed, squeezing his fingers taut around one
of her breasts. His gaze darkened, raking over her chest, and drawing her to him. Opening his legs wider, he pulled her between his thighs still cupping one of her tits.
He hooked a finger inside a belt loop of her skirt to hold her steady while he closed his lips around her nipple, capturing and sucking her tip into his hot mouth. With each deep suck, she felt electricity course through her body.
“Oh god!” she moaned as her nipple hardened into a point along his tongue and darts shot through her belly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bowing her back, and pressing herself against him.
Rory curled his fingers around her waist, laving her nipple, then he switched and sucked her other peak into his mouth—licking and nipping her, playing with the piercings until she cried out.
“Please…more,” she begged him with incomplete words—primal sounds that bubbled up from the coiling hunger rising from her core.
“Let’s get naked,” he replied, holding onto her.
She squirmed in his grasp, prompting him to move his hands over her hips, sliding his fingertips down the waistband of her skirt. He met her eyes and their gazes locked. She lowered her hands to the top of his and squeezed, feeling his hands reposition to take the waistband button within his fingers. He popped it open and lowered her zipper, never taking his eyes off her face.
He tugged the skirt off her hips. “These are beautiful. So sexy. A little secret part of you,” Rory murmured, fingering her only tattoos situated just shy of her hip bone.
A pair of black inked butterflies in flight. Personal and representing her and Rory.
“Just like us, about to take off. Aren’t they?” she asked, threading her fingers through his hair.
He looked up into her eyes and she felt an undeniable connection that unleashed a sharp shiver through her. “I sure as heck feel like I’m flying. What about you?” he asked.
“Sure am with your fingers and mouth,” she agreed.
