Red-Hot Texas Nights

by Kimberly Raye

  “Not necessarily. It proves he was there, but it doesn’t prove why. What if he went out there for another reason?”

  “Which is?”

  “That’s what I’m not sure about, but I’ve got a few ideas. Mind if I take the shoe?”

  “Be my guest.” She pushed aside the endless questions swirling through her brain and showed the sheriff to the door. A few seconds later, she headed back to her room to change clothes.

  She’d just unhooked her bra when her hand grazed her nipple and a strange tingle of awareness shot through her.

  Because she couldn’t stop thinking about tonight.

  About him.

  About how much she wanted him.

  Too much, a voice whispered, and while she wanted to think that was a good thing, suddenly the fact bothered her. To the point that she ditched the rest of her clothes, stretched out on the bed, and did her damndest to curb that want herself.

  * * *

  She was almost there.

  Brandy clutched the edge of the sheet, her knuckles white, as she stared at her bedroom ceiling. Dusk crept past the edge of the curtains and filled the room with shadows. Her nerves buzzed. Her legs trembled. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm.

  Almost, but for some reason she couldn’t quite get there.

  She let the images from those few nights with Tyler replay in her head. The impression his fingertips had made against her heated skin. The rasp of his jaw against the tenderness of her breasts. The warm press of his lips against the side of her neck. The soft feel of his arms wrapped around her. The press of his fingers …

  The thing was, she didn’t feel Tyler. She was all by her lonesome. Lonely.

  The notion struck, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t lonely. She was horny.

  That was it. One quick orgasm and she would stop thinking about him so much, wanting him.

  And so she did what any healthy, red-blooded female would do. She trailed her fingers down to Funland for a quick visit.

  Oddly enough, it didn’t feel quite as good. Her hands weren’t callused, her skin raspy, or her touch quite as purposeful as that of the man who lived and breathed in her thoughts.

  She frowned and stepped up the action, moving lower to the tender flesh between her legs. She closed her eyes and tried to picture her favorite singer, Luke Bryan, particularly in his “Country Girl” video. The man certainly could shake his ass.

  Instead, it was Tyler who was shaking it in a pair of skintight jeans, a wicked smile on his face, a gleam in his eyes. Tyler looming over her, driving into her …

  She came quickly, clamping down on her bottom lip to contain the scream and the screech and … Ahhh.

  Delicious sensation gripped her for a few blessed moments and she slumped back, welcoming the satisfaction sure to follow. The rush of warmth she’d felt their last time together. The punch of oomph that had drained the tension from her body and left her limp and lifeless and completely sated.

  If only.

  Instead, she still felt edgy. Nervous. Needy.

  She ignored the strange emptiness and focused on the positive: the clenching and unclenching between her legs, the trembling of her body, the numbness in her toes, and the all-important fact that while she might still want him, it wasn’t the all-consuming, rip-off-your-clothes-right-here-and-now want she’d felt five minutes ago.

  This she could handle.

  That’s what she told herself, but she still felt a rush of excitement when she opened her door half an hour later to find him standing on her doorstep.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him. “I thought we were meeting at the bakery.”

  “I thought I’d save you a drive back and just pick you up here.” He noted the flush to her face. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

  If only. “I’m fine,” she said, turning to draw a deep breath and pull herself together while she snatched up her purse.

  “What’s this?” he added, when she handed him the chicken soup and motioned him out the door.

  “Dinner.”

  The grin on his face was enough to make her wish she’d made the soup herself. “Thanks.”

  “It’s nothing. Jase made it for Jenna. She’s not here but he doesn’t know that. No sense in letting it go to waste.”

  “True enough.” But the explanation didn’t kill the smile on his face, or the sudden longing that stirred deep inside of her. “Where to?”

  “To find Gator Hallsey and get my mash back.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Gator Hallsey seemed to have disappeared right along with Brandy’s mash.

  That’s the conclusion she came to after four hours spent bar-hopping, talking to waitresses, and chasing down all leads. No one had seen him. And if they had, they weren’t inclined to talk. Even to Tyler, who wore the most menacing look Brandy had ever seen.

  They were no closer to answers when they finally pulled into the rodeo arena later that night than when they’d started out.

  But Brandy was this close to going up in flames.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the constant bounce of the pickup or the knowledge that Tyler was so close, or the anticipation of having him even closer, but she wanted him in the worst way by the time they walked into the small apartment.

  So much so that she hadn’t even cared that they’d waltzed by two cowboys who’d lingered down near the pens. Men she’d recognized from her high school days. Timmy Carson and Eli Walley. They’d both tipped their hats and given her that knowing smile that had sent her home in tears more times than she could count.

  Embarrassed.

  Ashamed.

  Not this time.

  The door closed behind them and she reached for her sundress. Pulling down the straps, she shed the clothing at the speed of light as he flipped on the lights and walked over to draw the shades that edged the massive window. He paused just shy, his gaze drinking her in, and her stomach hollowed out.

  Been there. Done that. Get a grip.

  But that was next to impossible with Tyler McCall’s powerful body filling up the room and his hot-as-a-Texas-summer gaze scorching her from her head to her toes and back up again.

  He made her feel so excited and anxious and needy.

  Correction—she didn’t need Tyler McCall, or any man for that matter.

  She simply wanted him physically. Right now. This moment.

  Temporary.

  She forced her thoughts away from heat swamping her and shifted her attention to the six-plus feet of warm male who hadn’t so much as budged an inch near the window.

  At least his feet hadn’t budged.

  Her gaze lingered on the very prominent bulge beneath his jeans. Her throat went dry and she licked her lips before she could think better of it.

  “Come over here and do that, sugar.”

  She hesitated and he reached for the shades. They slid over the window and she waited for the rush of comfort that it usually brought.

  Not this time.

  “Well?” he drawled, his voice distracting her from the unsettling thought.

  “Well, what?”

  “Well? Why don’t you stop giving your bottom lip all that attention and come over here and give me some?”

  “Why don’t you come over here?”

  He didn’t say a word. Just stared at her with those liquid aqua blue eyes and that ever-widening grin, as if she’d said just the right thing and impressed the hell out of him in the process.

  “What are you thinking?” she demanded before she could stop herself.

  “That you’re about the most stubborn woman I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  “I’m not stubborn enough. Stubborn gets things done. Usually.”

  “I know you wanted to find the mash, but you’ll just have to think of something else. Meet with the distillery man on Friday and give him the recipe.”

  “I can’t do that without a sample.”

  “Yes, you can. If he’s that interested, he’ll
work something out.”

  “Maybe, when he gets back from his trip in three months. I can’t wait that long. The business won’t wait.”

  “You’ll figure something out,” he told her, and while she’d said the same thing to herself more times than she could count that day, for some reason it rang true when he uttered the words.

  “Now stop worrying and come over here.” He stood barely a hand span from her. Filling up her line of vision. Drinking in all her oxygen. Zapping her common sense and making her forget all about Friday’s disastrous meeting.

  She licked her lips as her gaze riveted on his mouth. He really had a great mouth, with firm, sensual lips that made her skin itch and her insides tighten in anticipation. “It’s really hot in here.” She blew out a breath and fought for another. “Hotter than usual.”

  “It’s me. Or you.” He reached out and caught a drop of perspiration as it slid down the valley between her breasts. His touch lingered and her heart thudded a frantic rhythm against his fingertip. “Probably both.” His mouth touched hers.

  Her lips parted at the first moment of contact, so eager and desperate, for several heartbeats Tyler actually forgot that he meant to take his time tonight, to enjoy every moment.

  There was nothing slow about the way he stroked his tongue along the length of hers and plunged deep into her mouth. Nothing teasing about the purposeful way he ate at her lips, as if she were his only sustenance and he’d gone far too long without.

  He barely resisted the sudden urge to bend her over in that next instant and sink as deep as possible into her soft, warm body. He wanted to forget where he ended and she began. Hell, he wanted to forget everything—the upcoming ride and the pressure to find his brother and get Cooper the hell out of Rebel the way he’d gotten himself out—everything save the woman in his arms and the need heating his blood.

  Slow and easy.

  He gathered his control and fought for a leisurely pace because after a disastrous evening, this was all they had. Each other. And he meant to make the most of it.

  The kiss softened as he suckled her bottom lip and wrung a frustrated moan from her.

  He slid his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, learning her shape, the dips and curves near her collarbone, the soft, satiny slopes of her breasts.

  He lifted her onto the nearby dresser. Parting her long legs, he stepped between her thighs. Her heat cradled the rock-hard erection pulsing beneath his jeans. He thumbed her nipples and caught her cry of pleasure with his mouth, the sound exciting him almost as much as the knowledge that he was going to haul her close and fall asleep next to her when it was all said and done. For a little while, he reminded himself.

  That’s all this was. The two of them. Together. For now.

  He gave up her lips after a deep, delicious kiss to nibble down her chin, the underside of her jaw. He licked a fiery path to the beat of her pulse, and teased and nibbled at the hollow of her throat until she gasped. Then he moved on, inhaling her sweet, fragrant smell, savoring the flavor of her skin. An echoing flame leapt through him, burning hotter, brighter …

  He leaned back long enough to drink in the picture she made.

  She had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her breasts arched in silent invitation.

  Dipping his head, he took a slow, leisurely lap at her nipple. The tip quivered, expanded, reached out, and begged for more. He licked her again, a quick swipe followed by a slow, thorough lap that tightened the flesh even more. Finally, he drew the pouty flesh into his mouth and sucked long and hard. A moan vibrated up her throat and she gasped, grasping at his shoulders.

  The grasping he could handle. But then she wrapped her legs around his waist. Rubbed herself up against his aching length. Scattered his common sense. He felt her heat through the tight denim and it shot his intentions to hell and back.

  Her desperate fingers worked the button of his jeans, then the zipper. It stuck for a heart-pounding moment, the teeth stretched too tight over his straining length. A swift yank, a frenzied zippp and … there. He could breathe again.

  He caught her head in his hands, his fingers splaying in her hair, anchoring her for the long, deep probe of his tongue.

  “Tyler!” The slam of a door punctuated the shout. The noise shattered the passionate fog Tyler found himself lost in. He stiffened, breaking the kiss to gasp for air as footsteps sounded on the stairs outside.

  Brandy’s forehead furrowed and her eyelids fluttered open. “What’s wrong?”

  Before Tyler could answer, a man’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. “It’s Eli Walley,” the man called out. “I feed the animals,” the man prodded, reminding Tyler of the cowboy who toted hay bales and filled up troughs. “Listen, man, you left your cell down by the bull pen. It’s been beeping like a mother. Tyler? You in there?” But he already knew because he’d seen them walk the stairs not fifteen minutes ago.

  He knew they were in there, and he knew just what they were doing.

  The realization seemed to hit them both. Brandy stiffened and started to move, but Tyler was faster.

  He fought for his zipper and turned, Brandy’s body behind him, just as the door creaked open a scant inch.

  “I hate to bother you”—a hand slid through the open doorway, holding a phone—“but you might want to get this.”

  Tyler reached the doorway before the man could poke his head through. “Thanks, buddy.” He grabbed the phone and shoved the door closed and locked it before the man could get in so much as another word.

  He glanced at the missed call and saw his brother’s name blazing on the screen. A sight that drew his immediate attention despite his throbbing body.

  He hit the REDIAL button and held the phone to his ear. It rang and rang before going straight to voice mail.

  “Dammit,” he growled a split second before he felt her soft hands at his back.

  “Maybe this is a bad time.”

  “Just give me a minute.” He worked the button on his jeans and started for the door, eager to get away from the need to say to hell with Cooper and the phone.

  To hell with everything except the woman perched on the dresser, staring so lusciously back at him.

  It would be so easy to turn back to her, and it was that realization itself that kept him from doing just that. Because no woman, even one as soft and warm as Brandy, was going to turn Tyler from what was really important—his family, his career, his future.

  He’d worked too long and too hard to throw it all away on a woman who wouldn’t do the same for him.

  The thought struck and niggled at him the way it did in the dead of night when he wasn’t thinking straight. When he started to contemplate that maybe, just maybe, being home wasn’t so bad with Brandy here.

  Crazy.

  Rebel was as bad as it could ever get. It was the one place that held his shitty past and kept thrusting it into his face. The one place he wanted to leave behind and forget once and for all just as soon as he saw that Cooper was well on his way to doing the same.

  Yep, he was out of here in a heartbeat, and Brandy would be the first to wave good-bye and mean it.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, and then he left her staring after him.

  * * *

  “I don’t think we should be doing this again,” Ellie said as Duff peeled off her shirt and tossed it to the nearby floor.

  They stood in the back room of the bakery, where Ellie had been about to close up for Brandy and call it a night. Until Duff had shown up and licked batter off Ellie’s fingers.

  “Correction,” she added as his tongue flicked her thumb and she felt a zing between her legs. “I know we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Damn straight, we shouldn’t,” he agreed, but he kept licking, sucking, ahhh …

  “You’re not my type,” she blurted, trying frantically to summon her common sense.

  “That’s what you say, but your body says something different.” He touched her nipple through the thin fabric o
f her bra. “I think she likes me.”

  “But I don’t. I don’t like you.”

  “I don’t like you, either, and I surely don’t love you. Just so we’ve got that clear.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know good and well you don’t love me, and I don’t care. I mean, it’s not like I love you. I don’t, you know. I don’t even know you so how can I love you?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I mean I thought I might feel a little something for you because it just seems like whatever is between us is so powerful that there has to be more to it.”

  “Does there?” He pulled the bra cup down and under her breast, plumping the flesh so that he could lean forward and flick the tip with his thumb. Heat speared her and she caught her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m just attracted and you’re just attracted, and we should just enjoy it.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling myself. What I always tell myself.” And she’d had no trouble believing it until now.

  Until him.

  “I don’t know anything about you, yet I feel more comfortable than I ever have in my entire life,” Ellie told him before she could think better of it. But there was just something about him that made her say, as well as do, things she normally wouldn’t. “I feel like I can talk to you.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “That’s a bad thing. It’s not about talking. It’s just sex. Except it’s not just sex.” She was rambling, she knew. So much that any man would have said to hell with it and given up on getting her naked. Men didn’t like complications.

  Especially freewheeling, here-today-gone-tomorrow cowboys. She knew the type. Her mother had hooked up with one after the other, a parade of men through their small house that had always ended with a box of Cracker Jack for her and a bunch of heartache for her mother.

  She’d vowed to spare herself the same angst and, so far, she’d done just that. No cowboys. No getting attached. No getting hurt.

  Yet here she was with this cowboy, getting attached.

  Physically, she reminded herself. It didn’t have to go beyond to the hurt part if she didn’t let it.

  “We can stop.” He looked as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he said it anyway and she believed him. But then stopping would mean that she was scared she couldn’t follow through and keep things in perspective.