Cowboy's Barmaid: A Small Town Military Romance (Lucky Flats Ranchers Book 2)

by Piper Sullivan

  Now we’re like two totally different people as I force the top of her strapless dress down. Leaving her lips, I press a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat. I’ve never craved anything like I crave her right now, in this moment.

  She whimpers as the dress flutters to the floor. It settles into a puddle of cotton at her feet and I’m quick to notice her lack of underwear.

  I groan. She was naked under that dress all night…

  I press my lips to the space between her beautiful breasts and she gasps. Her hands find my shoulders and she grips like she’ll fall if she doesn’t hold on for dear life.

  “Clint,” she whimpers, but I’m busy kissing her pert, pink nipple. Turning her so the bed is behind her, I lower her back, needing to taste more of her. All of her. I need all of her.

  Her hips buck up into me and she begins talking. “I’ve needed this for so long, I’ve wanted it...” she moans, her body reacting as my teeth scrape along the full curve of her breast. She’s delicious, a drug that’s taking hold as I taste her, sample her, enjoy her.

  She’s mine.

  May

  I need to tell him that I’m a virgin, who I am, how I know him, how I wound up on his doorstep… but while he’s kissing me like this it’s impossible to focus on anything but the sensations exploding in me.

  I didn’t think it would be like this; this all-consuming, impossibly sexy fire that’s eating every inch of me alive.

  Clint’s lips find mine again and I kiss him like I’m dying, like I’m drowning and he’s breathing life into my very lungs. I want him. I need him.

  His legs part mine and I open to him, realizing that I’m not only naked, but vulnerable and spread before him on his bed. I know how this ends and I don’t care. I’ll deal with consequences later.

  I grab his belt and unbuckle it, loving the clink of the metal on metal as it comes free. I free the button next, then the zipper. He leaves me long enough to stand up and drop his pants. His boxers follow, and I see him for the first time.

  And terror ignites in my blood. He’s much too big. There’s no way that will fit in here.

  But he’s back on me in an instant and I’m lost to his kiss. Our tongues dance and I push him back a bit.

  “I’m not on birth control,” I whisper, my voice sounding painfully shy.

  But Clint growls at me as if he finds my caution so very sexy it’ll be his undoing. He reaches past me to the nightstand, then plants a kiss on my throat. I lose myself in the heat of his lips on the soft skin of my neck.

  In a moment, he’s back on top of me and I feel my heart thrashing in my chest like a wounded animal. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I feel him slip a hand between us and he hesitates, the tip of him poised at the heart of me.

  His eyes meet mine and I sense he’s giving me a chance to say no, to back out. Instead, I kiss him. As our tongues meet, I feel him press into me. Pain comes first, and I gasp. Breaking the kiss, I press my cheek to his, unsure what to do.

  He’s slow; not forcing in, but not backing off, either.

  “You’re so sexy,” he whispers, his stubble scraping my cheek. “I want you so bad, love. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, the word more of a breath than an actual reply. He pushes in further and I feel my body yielding to him, opening for him, accommodating his girth and width. It’s an incredible sensation. I grip his shoulders, loving how his skin feels under my fingertips.

  Finally, he pushes home and I feel an odd sensation of being whole. When he pulls back, I grip him and whimper. But he’s quick to push back in and the resulting burst of pleasure is almost too much to bear.

  But he gives me a kiss and suddenly the word shifts and I’m on top. The feeling of him within me is enough to steal my breath, but I’m compelled to shift, to rock my hips forward. It almost feels as if he’ll split me, but there’s so much pleasure in it I can’t stop.

  The little button of pleasure is grinding on him with every motion of my hips and I can’t stand it. His hands find my breasts and suddenly it’s like every nerve ending in my body is lighting up with pleasure.

  It’s impossibly perfect, so incredibly amazing I feel my breath leaving in little gasps. Bracing my hands on his headboard, I feel myself galloping headlong toward orgasm. Never has it felt so good. This isn’t like touching myself, this is a whole new high of pleasure and I need more.

  “Sweet May,” Clint says, his eyes on me as I ride him without shame. Our eyes lock and I see something, a flicker, something like recognition.

  But it doesn’t stop me, no, it drives me right over the edge.

  Pleasure shatters my vision as white blinds me. I hear myself mewling with pleasure, but it’s like the sound is coming from someone else. My body jolts and jerks like my muscles forgot how to work together and move, but the pleasure radiating out from my core is enough to take my breath away.

  “Clint,” I whisper as if he can help me.

  But he’s lost to his own pleasure. I feel it as he swells within me, every pulse of my pussy squeezes him tight, but he’s growing more than I imagined possible and it’s putting sweet and painful pleasure on that sensitive spot within me.

  Sudden warmth fills me and I whimper with pleasure and collapse on his chest.

  Moments later, I’m suddenly aware he’s stroking my hair. He reaches between us and does something, but it’s not invasive, and I relax, enjoying the warmth of him and the chill in the air.

  As the pleasure fades, reality crashes back down on me.

  I’ve made a huge mistake.

  Clint

  It’s amazing how clear everything is post orgasm. I’m aware that I’m screwing everything up. I want May. Really want her.

  But then again, I know that asking her to take on my child and this rough life isn’t fair. But as she rests on my chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal, I’m struck by the fact that this feels right.

  My fingers slip through the silk-like strands of her hair. She’s beautiful in every way, and I’m regretting asking her to do such a terrible thing. But the fact that she was willing to leaves me sure that she’s got some feelings for me.

  She lifts her head and her eyes meet mine. There’s a seriousness to her and a deeply buried pain, and again, I get that odd, nagging feeling that there’s something else, something I’m missing.

  Just like that, she looks away and all the warmth within me begins to fade. She grabs the sheet and pulls it around herself like she’s hiding. I touch her shoulder and she jolts before pulling from my grasp without looking at me.

  The snub is clear, but I’m shocked. What did I do?

  “I should go,” she whispers and I sit up as she perches on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet around herself.

  With my heart aching, I try to stop her. “Why?” I ask, needing to know why she’s doing this. But she refuses to look at me as she stands, carefully hiding behind the sheet.

  I get up as well, ot as concerned as she is about hiding behind sheets or invisible walls. Taking her shoulders in my hands, I turn her to face me. But her face is lowered and her hair falls forward and hides her features from me.

  Capturing her chin I lift her face. Tears shine bright in her eyes and I wonder what I’ve missed. Her blue eyes slash back and forth between mine and I struggle to find the words to ask the questions looming between us.

  “Don’t,” she whispers, the single word as forceful as a sucker punch. The moisture that has gathered in her lashes sparkle as a lone tear slips down her cheek. My thumb instantly swipes it away and she blinks, her face an echo of pain that slices me deeply.

  “What are you hiding?” I ask, needing to know the truth. “Whatever you’re running from, you’re safe,” I say, needing her to know what’s in my heart. I don’t care what is in her past. I care about her, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

  But she shakes her head. Without another word she pulls from my grasp and leaves my room. And as I look after her, I feel more al
one than I have in a very long time.

  Maybe I’m cursed. Every woman that comes into my life leaves.

  I return to my bed. At the foot of it, her dress still lies in a puddle of fabric. Feeling mocked, I pick it up and remember how she looked in it. How she smiled at me throughout dinner. How my parents loved her.

  Damn it.

  Falling back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, thinking about May’s big beautiful blue eyes. What the fuck did I do to screw this up? Folding my arms behind my head, I puzzle over things when a small sound grabs my attention.

  It’s like the tiny mews of a lost kitten.

  And it clicks; she’s crying.

  Overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness, I struggle. Should I go comfort her? Or am I the source of her pain? Would I make matters worse?

  Fuck.

  May

  I wake, feeling like garbage.

  My phone screen is lit like I’ve got a message. Which is odd. No one has messaged or called me since I’d blocked him.

  The text makes my heart sink right to my toes. It’s Katie.

  Sara! I’m coming home. Visit meeee! <3

  No, no, no, no… this can’t be happening.

  I sit back down on the bed, feeling lightheaded and sick at heart. This is the end. It’s all over now. There’ll be no hiding who I am anymore.

  Kate won’t be okay with this like Babs was. She’ll ask me what the fuck I’m doing, and she’ll be pissed I’m messing around with Clint.

  Fuck.

  I stare at the message until my eyes begin to blur. A knock at my door startles me and I look up. “Come in,” I say, totally focused on this new fire I need to douse.

  The door opens and Clint stands in my doorway, totally imposing with his arms crossed and a defiant refusal to look at me.

  “I’ve got some family coming into town,” he says, matter-of-factly, and I nod, wondering what this has to do with me. I expected today to be awkward, but he’s distant and aloof. Which is fine with me. That’s less messy. After the sudden break I’d had last night with the weight of all the lies and secrets stressing me out, I’m not surprised he’s avoiding me like the plague. Hell, I’d avoid me. I probably look totally unhinged.

  Maybe I am.

  Still, Clint is quiet as if I should be saying something.

  “Are you asking me to keep up the lie?” I ask, feeling weary. This would be funny if I weren’t so very tired of all of it. I want to just come clean now, I want to unburden my soul to everyone and to hell with them and their judgments. I ran away once. I lived through Dillon. I can live through anything.

  “Who are you running from?” he asks, and I shake my head. I’m only barely able to think of his name now. In the weeks that have followed, every day that has passed is another victory. He has no hold over me. I’m even to a point now where he doesn’t dominate my every waking moment.

  I didn’t jerk awake this morning feeling like he was coming home drunk and angry again.

  And I’m not about to open up about him, or let him rule my life whether in my head or outside of it. So I switch back to the conversation at hand.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

  “What would you like to do?” he asks, and I struggle with the very real fear coursing through me.

  But it’s time to come clean. About some things, at least. “I can’t fake it. Katie won’t be fooled.”

  His whole posture changes from aloof to intense. It’s a subtle shift, but the whole mood of the room changes.

  “How did you know…?” he asks, studying me carefully.

  “Oh, come on, Clint. Do you really not remember?” I ask, standing up to him. He looks me up and down, and again I see that flash, that look in his eyes like he’s trying to place me. “You feel like you’ve known me forever because you have,” I say and he falters back a step.

  There’s confusion in his handsome face, and I feel bad for him. “Babs remembered me. But she promised not to out me, and she still believes we’re really together, but Katie will be pissed when she finds out.”

  “What…?” I know he’s struggling.

  And I’m tired of the lie. “Maybe if you called me Sara?” I ask, wondering if that’ll jog his memory.

  And there it is, the flash of recognition in his eyes as he suddenly sees me for who I am; the little sister’s friend who used to follow him around like a puppy dog. I was so damn in love with him forever ago. He’s the reason I came back to Texas. Because after Dillon kicked the shit out of me last time, I’d ran straight to Clint.

  Because I know him. Because I trust him. Because it’s not the first time he’s saved me. But it’s not love I see in his eyes now. It’s not trust or joy that I’m here.

  No, he’s furious.

  “May is my middle name,” I say, needing to defend myself. I know it looks bad, but it’s not as evil as his expression seems to be making it out to be. I didn’t set out to just deceive him. I wanted to protect myself. I thought he’d recognize me. But I wasn’t sure I was safe. Dillon promised he’d always follow me, and that he’d find me. That I’d never escape him.

  I’m sure it was all just to scare me. He wanted to use threats to keep me under his thumb. And it worked for a long time. But now, on the outside and a hell of a lot less scared, I see his bullshit for what it was; propaganda to keep me tied to him and terrified.

  But now, with Clint eyeing me like I’m a lair, like I’m something he’d tracked in on his shoe, I feel my heart sink in my chest.

  “Please don’t hate me,” I whisper, feeling so broken as he stands in the doorway of the room he’d so kindly given me when I needed it most. I knew it would come to this, but I’d wanted to live the lie a little longer.

  I wanted to feel loved for just a little while longer.

  I’m just a liar, a user, a human piece of garbage, just like Dillon had told me so many times before. He was right about everything. Maybe I would be better off dead. Maybe I am just a waste of oxygen.

  Clint

  Dear sweet May isn’t really May at all.

  She’s Sara, that cute girl I had a crush on a lifetime ago. And even as I see her heart breaking in her eyes, I step back out of her room and close the door behind me.

  She lied to me. I let her watch my daughter. I trusted her. I even gave her the space I knew she needed for her past. I didn’t pry, but I did need honesty.

  With a war raging within me, I leave the house. I need space. I need a chance to blow off steam. I need to get away from her. Because even as I feel betrayed, I feel like kissing her, long and hard, deep and desperately until she submits to me again.

  But I only barely remember her.

  At the front door, I stop and turn back toward her room. But I stop again, something in me telling me to leave her alone, to not corner her right now. I might do or say something I’ll regret.

  I’d rather think things through.

  But I turn and head back toward her room again. I’m not going to be passive. I was passive last night. She could have told me any time what was going on. I asked. I gave her outs. I trusted her to talk to me about important things.

  I trusted her.

  I shouldn’t have.

  Opening her door without knocking, I see her spin to face me, shock in her lovely blue eyes. “Clint,” She says, my name a sweet whisper on her kissable lips.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, my tone sharp as a razor.

  Her lips part in shock and tears from in her eyes. But I’m not backing down now. She opened this Pandora’s box. She can damn well deal with the consequences.

  Two tears roll slowly down her cheeks as she gapes at me, as if unsure how to respond to my anger. “I-” She says, her voice seeming choked by tears. Or fear. I’m scaring her. Good. Maybe she’ll know I’m not the kind of guy who lets liars get away with possibly endangering my daughter, my home, my life.

  “I trusted you with Grace,” I say, advancing a step closer to her. But she doesn�
�t flinch back, she stands up straighter, her own anger lashing out.

  “I’d never do anything to hurt her,” she hisses, anger shining in her features.

  But I’m not convinced. “Really?” I say, crossing my arms. “So whoever you’re running from isn’t dangerous?”

  And she snaps closed like a steel trap.

  “I thought so,” I say, pushing it. “And what if I told you I loved you? That I wanted to make this real?” I gesture to the ring on the dresser. Her eyes dart to the ring and the tears come faster.

  “I always loved you,” she whispers, her tone defiant even as her words indicate her shattering heart. “You just thought I was your little sister’s stupid friend.”

  Wait, what?

  She advances a step, poking a finger into my chest, her fury shining in her brilliant blue eyes. “I heard you tell them I was annoying. That you were glad for when I went home. You hated me.”

  I’m stunned. She heard that, but she didn’t understand that I said that to protect myself. Because my buddies knew I liked her, and that that would mean torture for both of us. I was protecting her. But I was protecting myself more.

  “I did say that,” I agree, and all her fire dies as she stares up at me. I wonder for a second if she expected me to lie. “But you’re wrong. I thought you were cute as hell. But I knew that you were Katie’s friend, that I could never have you. So I tried to put you out of my mind.”

  Her eyes widen and all the fight seems to drain out of her.

  “Did you tell my dad?” I ask, needing to know if she outed me. Though if she had, I assume Id know. I mean, dad would have brought it up, he’d have shunned me, he would have humiliated me.

  She shakes her head. “What do I tell Katie?” she asks, and I shrug.

  “The truth?” I say, wondering if it would be so bad.

  But May closes right up. “She’d never forgive me.” Her shoulders slump and I want, more than anything, to pull her into a hug.