How to Wrangle a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  Lindsey could feel something shimmering in the air between them—a warmth that meant there was far more than friendship drawing them together.

  An inner voice sounded a warning.

  You should wait. You should get to know him first.

  She hated that inner voice. Had it ever steered her right? It had told her Rodger was the right man to marry. It had told her that Daniel was somehow alive inside her, long after his small heart had ceased to beat. It had told her to wait to come back to the Lazy Q, even after she split from Rodger. And then it had told her Shane Lockhart was a con man.

  Said con man carried her into the cabin and looked down at her so seriously she wondered if he was hesitating too. Was he always so serious? Was he always the solemn protector of the Lazy Q, watching over her and Grace, or could he lighten up once in a while?

  The more she thought about it, the more important that question became. Passion was important, but there were different kinds of passion. Different levels. And Lindsey liked a little variety.

  Glancing around, she spied his laptop on the big farm table, along with some invoices and scrawled notes. The table looked sturdy and smooth, inspiring her with a reckless thought.

  “So, teacher.” She ran one finger down his arm, tracing the curve of his muscular biceps, and tilted her head toward the table. “Is that your desk?”

  He looked down at her, a little stunned, and nodded.

  “You were going to teach me all about cowboys, remember?”

  “I was, wasn’t I? So I’m the teacher and…” He grinned. “Oh, I like that one.”

  “Me too.” She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Teach me everything.”

  * * *

  Shane stared down at Lindsey, who licked her lips and crossed her slim legs at the ankles. He’d made a promise to himself, but her light tone had broken through his passion—a passion that seemed to grow darker and more desperate every day, awakening something warmer and more vibrant. He didn’t want to give in to the side of himself that wanted everything from a woman, the part that took without giving. Lindsey wasn’t some floozy he’d met at the Silver Dollar Bar. She was an integral part of his life, whether they made love or not.

  “Do you need time to put together a lesson plan?” She grinned, undoing another button.

  He laughed. It was obvious she wasn’t expecting anything from him that he wasn’t prepared to give, and even more obvious that she was open to imaginative lovemaking—something the girls from the Silver Dollar never seemed to understand.

  “Okay,” he said. “The first thing you need to learn about cowboys is this.” He spun her around and slammed the door to the cabin with one quick kick. “We’re strong.”

  “I know that.” She ran her hand down his arm again, squeezing his muscles. He was glad he’d spent so much time bucking hay bales and digging postholes. His muscles weren’t the unnatural bulges men got from spending all their time in a gym; they were natural and real. And strong.

  Relief and lust washed over Shane in equal parts as he deposited her gently on the table. She swung her feet a little, looking up at him and biting her lip. It was a look that made him feel powerful and in charge.

  Kissing her, he let himself go, thrusting his tongue in her mouth like he’d wanted to all along. She responded just the way he’d hoped, writhing against his body and kissing him back with gentle but skilled flicks of her tongue.

  To his surprise, she leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. The motion made her back arch and forced her breasts against her plaid Western shirt to the point where the top snap did exactly what it was supposed to do—it unsnapped.

  God bless Western shirts. He didn’t know who’d figured out that snaps were better than buttons, but it made him happy he was a cowboy.

  He leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders. She squirmed a little, just enough to pop another snap on that shirt. She wasn’t wearing much underneath, just a thin, stretchy bra that made her arousal obvious.

  He ran the tips of his fingers over the nub of one nipple, then pulled the taut fabric aside and bent his head to lick and suck. Lindsey’s breath quickened, and she wriggled herself to the edge of the table until the heart of her was pressed to the bulge in his jeans.

  His cock twitched with anticipation, urging him beyond thought, beyond purpose. All he could do was feel, do, and touch. Grabbing Lindsey’s shirt in both hands, he tore the snaps loose and then lifted the bottom of her bra over her breasts. She cupped them in her hands, offering them to his hungry mouth. Her arousal made them mouthwateringly perfect, and he loved the salty taste of the faint sheen on her skin.

  Still tormenting her breasts with his mouth and tongue, he reached down and unbuckled her belt, then undid her jeans and thrust his hand down her flat belly until he reached the hot, wet sweetness below. He paused in his appreciation of her breasts to watch her face.

  He’d never seen a woman so honest about sex and how it made her feel. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Her hair swirled across the tabletop, blending with the grain of the wood, and her lips, moist and pink from his kiss, were slightly open. She arched her body in taut desperation, struggling to bring her breasts back to his attention.

  He obliged, squeezing one at a time, making the nipple even more taut and hard. Lindsey drew in a quick breath and he was afraid he’d hurt her, but then she moaned her approval as he slicked his tongue around the swollen areola and flicked it across the bud before sucking it hard into his mouth. His tongue continued to swirl and flick, and she gasped, rocking her body with desperate need, pushing and bucking and swiveling her hips against his.

  He lifted his head to switch breasts, and she opened her eyes to look at him for one heartbeat of a moment. What he saw in her eyes was need, red-hot and ready, and as he dipped his head to treat her other breast with the full force of his attention, she reached down and tugged at her jeans, pulling them down enough to give his fingers free access to her sweet, wet center.

  He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her hot, waiting mouth as he stroked her. He let two fingers open her for a third that sought her center, gliding inside, then slipping out. Glancing down, he marveled at the way she opened for him, begging to be taken any way he wanted.

  Chapter 44

  Lindsey had thrown all caution to the wind, giving Shane everything—and getting far more than she’d bargained for.

  Who would have thought a small-town cowboy would be better at pleasing her than a sophisticated surgeon? Rodger had claimed his fingers were magic, but he’d never touched her the way Shane was touching her now. She could feel passion building, spiraling up and up, to a height she’d never reached before.

  Just as her emotions were about to spill over, Shane stopped. Groaning, she propped herself up on her elbows. She was about to ask him to find a condom when he knelt on the floor and she collapsed, craving his touch beyond anything she’d ever felt.

  But that wasn’t what he had in mind, apparently. Much to her disappointment, he carefully removed her boots, then her jeans and panties while she struggled to catch her breath.

  And then he was there, right there, and she wondered what he saw has he looked up the length of her naked body and into her eyes. She was in fairly good shape, but she was no gym queen. There was a slight swell to her belly, and the swell of her breasts wasn’t as large as she’d have liked.

  He smiled, as if reading her thoughts.

  “You’re beautiful.” He said it on a breath, as if he was overcome by the sight of her, and she lay back, knowing she had nothing to be worried about. Shane Lockhart liked her just the way she was.

  But all this time, she hadn’t done a thing for him except writhe and moan under his skilled hands and mouth. She was completely naked, spread out like a banquet on his kitchen table, and he was still in his striped shirt, his Wranglers, and even his boots.

  She tried to sit up so she could unbutton his shirt, but he took her t
highs in his big hands and spread her legs, making it impossible for her to do anything but lie back.

  “Later,” he said. “First I want to taste you.”

  “But—”

  “I’m the teacher, remember?” He gave her an evil grin, and there was a spark in his dark eyes she’d never seen before.

  She felt a little afraid as she lay back, looking up at the neatly grooved pine ceiling, feeling the rough boards of the table under her bare backside. Her nipples ached with wanting, despite all the attention they’d received, but when he blew a soft breath on the wet, waiting slit between her legs, she trembled with anticipation.

  “Shane,” she said. “You don’t have to…”

  But she gasped and forgot what she’d meant to say. He was everywhere, thoroughly exploring her secret terrain, finding the spots that made her body hum. He slid one finger inside, then two, and worked them in and out in concert with his tongue. She felt herself rising on a hot tide of pleasure until she was completely unmoored from the real world.

  And then she flew up, up, out of the clouds and into the sunlight, slamming into the sky. Her body pumped and writhed as she cried out his name. She felt so good, she truly thought she’d die—but she was safe here, with Shane taking her to the heights and then holding her there, pressing her to his chest with his strong arms as she sobbed and trembled.

  She felt safe. She felt worshipped. But most of all, she felt loved.

  * * *

  Shane felt a wave of tenderness so deep he couldn’t let go of Lindsey. Resting his chin against the top of her head, he breathed in the scent of her. It was something flowery that might be her shampoo, a blend of grass and hay, and the slightest hint of horse and saddle leather, all overlaid by a heady hint of sex. She shuddered against him, helpless in his arms, and he wished he could hold her forever.

  It had never been like this with other women. Their moans always seemed planned, their moves plotted. Lindsey’s pleasure was so genuine that he knew that at least on some level, he had the trust he’d always wanted from her. She had given him everything, holding nothing back.

  Wait. There was one thing…

  He felt her move against him as she came back to life, stroking his back, then leaning back to finger the buttons of his shirt. He took her hands in his, but she whisked them away.

  “Not this time, cowboy. It’s a nice shirt and all, but I want it gone.”

  Buttons. Shoot. He wished he’d worn one with snaps. He tried to help her, fumbling with the buttons, and it was only then that he realized his own hands were shaking. She wasn’t the only one who’d climbed to the heights. Just by watching her face, he’d followed her there and been stunned by what he saw, what he felt and knew as she pressed her body to his.

  “There.” She pulled the shirt away, almost tearing it with a triumphant flourish, and tossed it across the room. Without missing a beat, she went to work on his belt buckle.

  This he could help with, and he’d better or he’d find himself trapped by his boots. He toed them off, then slipped off the jeans.

  “Hold on,” he said. “Safety first.”

  He was hard as oak, so slipping on the condom was quick, but he worried the pause in the action had spoiled the mood.

  When he got back to the big room, Lindsey was still sitting on the table, a dreamy, distant look on her face. Her eyes flicked to his gloved equipment, and she smiled a sweet, secretive smile, as if he’d come bearing candy.

  But he couldn’t smile back. This was serious. She was staying here at the Lazy Q, and this wasn’t just a romp they could enjoy and dismiss like a quick game or break in routine. He might be the one standing, but he could feel himself falling.

  No matter what happened between them, they’d never be able to avoid each other. If something went wrong, they’d still be linked by the land. He could leave the Lazy Q if he had to, but he’d told the truth when he’d told her ranchers depended on neighbors and friends. Whether she was, his lover, his friend, or something else, would be decided by time and fate, but she would be part of his life forever.

  Right now, forever sounded pretty good. She was so lovely, sitting there smiling with her hair trailing down her back and shoulders. One lock hung down and touched her breast, curling around her nipple, and he brushed it away, then swept the rest away from her face and touched her lips with his own, putting all the tenderness he felt into one sweet kiss that was a gift and a promise.

  She accepted. He could feel her heart echoing his as she laced her arms around his neck and kissed him in return.

  * * *

  Lindsey could have kissed Shane forever. After her wild and uninhibited performance, she’d been afraid he’d lose respect for her and back away, but when they closed the kiss with a reluctance that felt mutual, he looked into her eyes and stroked her hair with gentle hands. No wonder the horses performed so well for him. His hands were magic—sure and surprisingly gentle.

  He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, and gently pushed her back onto the tabletop. She’d almost forgotten her naked state, but the sight of his tanned, hard body above her pale one emphasized the differences between them. He was dark and strong, with capable hands and eyes that seemed to look into her soul. She was pale and lithe, and under his gaze she felt beautiful. Her strength, she knew, was in her desire, and in his desire for her.

  He cupped her breasts, tasting each one before he reached down and fondled her, his calloused fingers slipping inside her delicate folds with ease. His eyes looked into hers again, a question in his gaze, and she gave him a slight nod and a trembling smile.

  This was so different from the last time. Then, they’d been playing, like animals in springtime. Now, things were far more serious. As he held himself at her entrance, moistening the head of his cock with her wetness, she felt as if they were joining in some ancient ceremony, a rite older than time that would seal them together forever. Not like a marriage, or even a promise. They would simply know each other now in a way that was deep and meaningful and impossible to dismiss.

  When he slid inside her, she gave a little gasp. He was big, and he was hard. Ready as she was, she could feel his size stretching her, testing her, heating her from the inside with the friction of every move.

  She set her heels against the edge of the table and tilted up to give him access. Suddenly, he slid inside, and she felt, again, as if he belonged there, as if he was exactly what she’d needed to fill some empty space inside her. She’d been keeping her eyes closed so she could feel everything, but now she opened them to see him watching her with that wonder in his eyes again.

  He made her feel like a goddess. Moving slowly, then faster, she used her muscles to clutch him tight and then release him, clutch and then release. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, his fists clenched with the effort of holding back. He rocked against her, slow at first, then faster, and she lost herself in the silken slide of his cock. The stroke of his body on hers, his roughness on the softness inside her, became so intense it was the only thing in the world, the only thing that mattered, and she let out a cry as she started to come.

  Groaning, he tensed, and both of them stilled at their peak as a hot wind lifted them high, then higher. He let out a long moan just as she cried out his name, and then he was calling her too as the two of them hurtled down a seemingly eternal slide of ecstasy. They landed in a heap on the table, so closely entwined in body and mind it was as if they’d become one being.

  He pressed the side of his head to hers and whispered in her ear.

  “Lindsey,” he said. “Oh, God, Lindsey.”

  And just like that, she was his.

  Chapter 45

  Lindsey woke to late-afternoon light streaming through sheer curtains. Sitting up, she could see through the gauzy fabric to the fields beyond, and the fields beyond those, and the mountains farther still. It looked like an Impressionist painting, all light and color, with no sharp edges. She felt pretty Impressionist herself, like a blur
red brushstroke, a slip of light that blended seamlessly into the land, into the sky, into Shane himself.

  She was a part of something at last. She belonged here.

  Shane stirred beside her. “Hey.” He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled.

  My God, he’s gorgeous.

  “I’ve got just the thing for you to wear today.”

  Presents already? That seemed kind of strange, but okay.

  She watched as he opened a drawer in his nightstand and pulled out a bra. A bright red, lacy bra.

  Her face went almost as red as the fabric, even though he’d seen far more of her than her underwear last night. “That’s mine.”

  “I know. Stormy delivered it last night. I think it could use a wash.” He paused. “And just so you know, I kept it in my nightstand so Cody wouldn’t find it. No other reason.”

  She laughed. “I wasn’t going to ask.” She plucked it from his fingers. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He sounded so serious that she looked up and found those dark eyes regarding her gravely.

  “For what?”

  “For trusting me. I’ve been a jerk so many times, getting mad at you for keeping a secret that was yours to keep and trying to protect Cody from knowing how I felt about you.”

  “Is that what you were protecting?”

  “I guess I was protecting myself. You scare me sometimes, Lindsey.”

  “Because I remind you of his mother?”

  Shane coughed, choking on nothing but stunned surprise.

  “How—how did you know that?”

  “I ran into Eleanor Carson at Boone’s Hardware, and she thought I was Tara. She sure as heck went to bat for you. Almost literally. I thought she was going to beat me to bloody blazes with that cane of hers.”

  “She must need new glasses,” Shane said. “You both have dark hair and blue eyes, but that’s about it.”

  “She called me all kinds of great names.” Lindsey laughed at the memory. “That woman can really let the insults fly. I can’t wait to get in a fight with somebody so I can call them ‘a snake in the streets of Wynott.’ Or ‘a she cat.’ Or my favorite, ‘Jezebel.’”