by Jaci Burton
Her body quivered as she remembered the fast and furious way he'd taken her, or how quickly she'd climaxed as he'd touched her while he'd been buried deep inside her.
She'd never been so passionately tuned in to a man the way she had with Logan. And he might be quiet and uncommunicative when they were together, but sexually? Holy crap, the man could sure communicate just fine that way.
"And you're sweating or something. Your face is all red. You should have makeup do something about that. I know it's hot as fuck out here."
Yes, it was, but it wasn't the heat that was causing her face to turn red, it was the recollection of all the sex she'd had last night.
"Yeah, I'll stop by the makeup trailer to have myself repaired."
They walked side by side on their way to the trailers. "Are you all right?"
She stopped and turned to Colt. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You've been so quiet all day. Normally we're chatting like a couple of teenagers. Not today, though."
She shrugged. "I'm just tired. I didn't get enough sleep last night."
"I knocked on your door around ten, but you didn't answer. I figured you'd gone to bed early."
"I wasn't in my trailer at ten. I was still with Logan."
Colt's brows rose. He looked around, then grabbed her arm and pulled her up the stairs and into her trailer. The blissful air-conditioning immediately began to cool down her heated skin. She pulled off the leather vest and dropped it onto the chair, then went to her fridge and got a bottle of water.
"You were with Logan? Why didn't you tell me this? I want details, Des. In detail."
Ignoring Colt, she unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and drank half of it before taking a breath. Releasing a sigh of relief, she took a seat at the table. "There's not much to tell, really."
Typically she and Colt talked in depth about their relationships. But there was something so intimate about what she and Logan had shared, as if it had been more than just a fun night of sex, that it felt somehow . . . sacred to her.
Which was ridiculous, of course. She and Logan were worlds apart. There could be no relationship between them, and when he'd dropped her off at the set this morning, he might have given her a smoking-hot, lingering kiss, but then he'd driven away without looking back.
He likely wouldn't even think about her today. He'd gotten laid. So had she. It had been fun. She was always logical about sex and relationships. They rarely, if ever, lasted, and she wasn't looking for one, anyway, especially not with an Oklahoma rancher. What were the odds of something like that lasting? Like a million to one.
"Des. You're not talking." Colt went and grabbed a water for himself. Now he slid onto the bench across from hers in the kitchen and was giving her his most probing gaze.
"I was with Logan last night. Until late. That's why I'm tired today."
"And?"
"And, we had a good time together. But nothing's going to come from it."
Colt frowned. "You're not giving me all the juicy details about your sex romp with him last night."
"No."
"Which can mean only one thing."
She yawned, then took another drink of her water. "Oh, really? And what's that?"
"You like this guy."
She shrugged. "He's all right, in a doesn't-have-much-to-say, chip-on-his-shoulder kind of way."
"Oh, please. You've had the hots for him since you first met him. Then you spend the entire day--and night--with him, and you refuse to spill details when it's obvious you had sex with him? That means you like him. Just like when I first hooked up with Tony. Remember that?"
"I do remember. You never even told me you two were together."
Colt wagged a finger at her. "Exactly. And now you and Logan are the same way."
"The same what way?"
"You're not talking about him."
"So? I told you there's not much in the way of details. It was just sex, Colt. How does that mean I like him?"
"Because if he was just a fuck buddy you didn't respect, you'd be giving me blow-by-blow--pun intended, by the way--details right now. And you're not. Which means--"
"Nothing," she finished for him. "It means I'm tired, Colt."
Undeterred, he leaned back in the booth. "Oooh, and you're bitchy, too. Trying to get rid of me?"
She knew he wouldn't be insulted. "Trying to."
He got up and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Take a nap. Then call me later after you finish your final scene. We'll have dinner."
She watched him walk to the door. "Colt?"
He turned to her. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
He grinned. "I know you do, honey. Love you back."
After he left, she rolled the bottle of water around in her hands, pondering her strange mood. Normally, sex exhilarated and relaxed her. Instead, she was more tense now than before she'd spent the night with Logan.
Probably because they'd stayed up all night, followed by a very long day filled with scenes and retakes.
Speaking of which, she looked at her phone, realizing she was due on set in ten minutes. With a resigned sigh, she finished her water and headed to makeup, where her sweatfest was repaired.
Theo was cranky today, too, which hadn't helped her mood. His insistence on perfection, doing take after take, was wearing on her.
In this scene, she and one of the other actresses, Philippa Sanchez, were strategizing their moves. As prisoners of the aliens, they had been separated from Colt and some of the other humans. She and Philippa were to be bartered and sold as slaves. It was a dialogue-intense scene, one in which she and Philippa, their characters previously at odds on Earth, learned to work together.
Des thought the first take worked beautifully. Theo hated it and wanted another. Then another. Des could tell from the looks Philippa shot her way that she agreed Theo was out of his ever-loving mind.
At the end of the third take, Des signaled for the prop guy to release her, then got up from the ground where she and Philippa had been shackled together and walked over to Theo.
"What isn't working for you in this scene, Theo?"
He didn't even bother looking at her. "I've given you direction, so you should know. Your dialogue is stiff."
Taking a deep breath, she said, "I don't agree. I think the first take worked beautifully. Our dialogue flowed naturally and the transition from enemies to friends was seamless."
He shot her a look. "That's why I'm the director and you're not. I see things you don't. Now get back into position so we can shoot it again."
Irritation pricked every one of her nerve endings. She spun around and went back to the set, flopped on the floor and got back into position.
"He's an ass," Philippa whispered to her.
Des gave her a smile. "Understatement."
"I don't know what bug crawled up his ass today, but I hope it worms its way out soon, or we'll be here the rest of the day."
Des nodded. "At least I'm not alone in my assessment. I thought the first take rocked."
"So did I. The rest of these takes are just a colossal waste of time."
Three more takes later, Theo pronounced the scene "Good enough."
Whatever. Des was toast. All she wanted was a hot shower, something to eat, and a nap.
"Des," Theo said, as everyone scattered, no doubt wanting to get as far away from him as possible. "Can I speak to you?"
What she wouldn't give to say no to him. But the last thing she wanted to do was give him more fodder to be a dick for tomorrow's scenes. "Sure."
"There were photos of you online today at the gossip sites."
Oh, there was a revelation. When weren't there photos of her? "Of?"
"You in town. With the ranch owner."
"Okay. And?"
"And you didn't come back to your trailer last night."
"What are you, my father?"
"I'm just concerned about you. I know you had that bad breakup with James. I don't want you to rebound with s
ome redneck hillbilly out here and get yourself in trouble." He laid his hand on her arm.
She took a step back. "I'm an adult, Theo, and perfectly capable of making smart decisions."
He gave her a direct look. "Are you?"
So many things she wanted to say to him. None of them appropriate. Then again, he was being so inappropriate right now. "Look, Theo. You're my director. Other than that, we have no involvement in each other's personal lives. So stay out of mine."
She walked away, determined to shut off this day--and Theo--from her mind. She went into her trailer, closed--and locked--the door, stripped off her clothes, and headed straight for the shower. Washing off the day always felt so cleansing, always renewed her.
After climbing out, she dried off and put on shorts and a tank top, then fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even the thought of ordering dinner exhausted her. It had been a grueling day and she felt beat up. She grabbed her phone and looked at it.
No messages.
Not that she expected Logan to call her. Or text her. Why would he? He likely had as busy a day today as she had, and was probably as tired as she was. He probably wasn't even thinking about her.
She squelched the disappointment and tossed her phone on the counter, went into the living room and turned on the TV, surfing channels as she ate. She settled on an older romantic comedy, finished her sandwich, and curled up against the cushions.
With the air-conditioning set on low, it grew cooler in the trailer. She grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered herself, then lay down to finish watching the movie.
She was asleep before Richard Gere and Julia Roberts made it to the opera.
Chapter 9
"SO YOU HAVEN'T seen her?"
Martha had asked him that question at least fifteen times a day over the past three days.
"No, Martha. I haven't seen her."
"But you've spoken to her. You've called her. Or done that texting thing."
"No, Martha. I haven't spoken, called, or texted Des." It was like a goddamned inquisition over dinner. Maybe cold sandwiches would be better, judging from Martha's steely gaze.
"But you spent the whole day with her."
And it was a good thing Martha didn't know he'd spent the night with her. He scooped vegetables onto his plate and dug into his barbecued chicken, deciding that not saying a word was the preferable option. Maybe if he could get his meal finished, he could get out of there without answering any more questions.
But if there was one thing he knew about Martha, it was that she never let a topic die.
"You should call her, Logan."
Logan took a long swallow of his iced tea. "Okay. I'll call her."
Not that he planned to, but if it got Martha off his back, he'd lie.
And it did, because she didn't say another word the rest of the meal. Which meant all they talked about were ranch things. And he didn't end up with indigestion.
After dinner he went outside to work on one of the tractors. It was still hot, and would be long after sundown. If late June was this hot, August was going to be brutal this year.
When he finished, it was dusk. Not that it was any damn cooler, but at least the sun had stopped beating on his back. He went into the barn to wash his hands. He dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and stared at it, mentally cursing for allowing Martha to put thoughts into his head that had no business being there.
What would he even say if he texted Des? She was likely busy, maybe even still shooting. Did they even film after sundown? He had no idea about what kind of light was needed.
After their night together, he figured he'd gotten whatever attraction he'd felt for her out of his system. It had been one hot night, too, and it wasn't the weather he was thinking about now. Being with Des had been . . . amazing. She was a wildcat in bed--and in the kitchen, in the shower, and on the floor. She was his match in every way, at least sexually.
But he wasn't looking for a relationship. He'd never be looking for a relationship, and thinking about her every day since that night they'd spent together wasn't going to do him any damn good. She was an actress, and that meant her life was all corners of the world. A woman like her would never be happy settling in on a ranch.
His father had made the mistake of ending up with the wrong woman. It had cost his dad a lifetime of happiness, and it had cost his children a loving mother.
Logan never intended to make that mistake.
But Des had approached him with a no-nonsense attitude, open-eyed about what was between them. She knew that her time on the ranch was limited and that whatever they had would be temporary. He'd be crazy to walk away from whatever fun they could have together while she was here.
He pulled up her number that she'd put into his phone that night and typed the words.
Been thinking about you.
And then he stared at the screen, wondering if he'd made a mistake.
A few minutes later, he got his answer.
Is that right? I've been thinking about you, too. What are you up to tonight?
With a smile, he typed a response.
Worked on the tractor after dinner.
She responded right away.
Sounds thrilling. Are you finished now?
Yeah. Want to come up here? I can pick you up.
I do want to see you. I'll drive over. Be right there.
He let go of the breath he'd been holding, which was ridiculous. It was no big deal, right? Except his heart was hammering in his chest like this was his first goddamn date.
Dumbass. He needed to get over it. He went up to the house to take a quick shower. By the time he got dressed, a black SUV was pulling up in front of the house. He stepped outside as Des was walking up the steps.
She wore a dress and sandals and didn't say a word, just slid her hand around his neck.
"You smell good," she said.
"Just got out of the shower." He wrapped an arm around her and tugged her against him, instantly hardening at the feel of her body.
"Is that right? Too bad, because I intend to get you dirty."
His lips met hers and he kissed her, realizing how much trouble he could get into with this woman. He ached for her, his body instantly reacting to the feel of her, to her scent, to the way she wound around his senses whenever she was near. She felt good, and she tasted even better. And as he carried her up the steps and into his house, he pushed the door shut and locked it, not wanting anything or anyone to interrupt his time with her.
He pushed her against the door and explored every inch of her with his hands, lifting her dress to touch her skin. She was so soft, and his hands were calloused.
"I'm sorry," he said as he kissed along the side of her neck.
"For what?"
"My hands are rough."
She pulled back and reached for the top of her dress. There must have been a button there because it fell forward, revealing her breasts.
No bra. He liked that.
She grasped his hands and put them on her breasts. "I like your hands. I like the way they feel on me. Touch me, Logan."
He didn't need more encouragement than that. He circled his palms over her erect nipples, then zeroed in on the buds, grasping them between his fingers to pull and pluck at them, watching the way she laid her head back against the door and met his gaze with a full-on heated one of her own. When he kissed her again, this time there was a fierce hunger that couldn't be denied.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him as he headed for the stairs. But she moved against him, the urgency he felt as she rocked against him, the way she grabbed onto the banister, stopping him partway up, meant they weren't going to make it to the bedroom.
Using a swift turn, he sat on the stairs, placing her on his lap.
Des was breathless as she spoke. "Condoms are in your bedroom, though, right?"
He dug one out of the pocket of his jeans.
"I wasn't sure where we were going to e
nd up, so I thought this might come in handy."
"Good thinking." She smiled at him and stood, taking the condom from his hands before shattering his world by lifting her dress.
She hadn't worn panties, either.
If possible, he got even harder as he stared up at how beautiful she looked.
He cupped her legs, looking up at her as she grabbed the handrail on the stairs.
"Logan," she whispered.
"Kneel down on my chest," he said.
He felt her legs tremble as she did, and then he tasted her. Hot, sweet, as wild as the wind across the plains. His hands swept over her butt and her hips while he held her there, giving her everything she needed, watching her breasts rise and fall as she breathed in and out.
He'd never seen anything more beautiful, or made love to a woman like this, who gave herself to him so freely. And when she came, it was with an unabandoned cry of pleasure, trembling against him with her orgasm.
She looked down at him, smiling as she slid down his body, rolling over his erection.
"Now," she said, her cheeks flushed. "Where were we?"
She tore open the condom wrapper, then unzipped his jeans and placed it over him. He clenched his jaw as he watched the way she rolled the condom on him.
"You're deliberately taking your time," he said.
She lifted her gaze to him and smiled. "I am, aren't I?"
But when she settled over him, and he got to watch the way their bodies connected, he hissed out a breath and grasped her hips, lifting her off of him and sliding her back down.
And then, she laid her palms over his chest and took control, riding him with sure, deliberate movements meant to pleasure them both.
He lay back on the stairs and watched her rock back and forth, the way she bit down on her lip when he thrust deeply into her. She dug her nails into him, which only heightened the sensations for him. He felt everything about Des, from the way she tightened inside to the way her nipples peaked when she was close to orgasm. Her lips parted and she fell forward to take his mouth in a hard kiss, her tongue sliding inside to tangle with his.
He met the challenge with one of his own, sliding his fingers into her hair and holding her there as he felt the rise of his own need. He was enveloped in a maelstrom of a storm, and he rode with it, letting it take him over, taking Des with him. She whimpered against his lips as she came, and this time, he let go, too.
