But one little pink plus sign had changed everything.
She’d been so terrified. With no mother to run to and no girlfriends who valued loyalty over gossip, she’d run straight to the one person she could trust—James.
“But you weren’t angry when I first told you,” she reminded him.
He drove his hands through his hair again, setting the pitch-black locks on end in a way that made her fingers ache to set right.
“I was too shocked. A baby. Me, nineteen. You, seventeen. All I could think about was how scared you were. You came to me for reassurance. Protection. I didn’t want to let you down.”
“You didn’t,” she said, launching off the chair. She slid beside him on the bed, close enough to experience the intoxication of his scent, but not his body heat, though the warmth teased the edge of her awareness.
So close. So spiced with musk and leather and man.
“You were good to me, James. In that crazy moment when I was more terrified than I’d been in my entire life, I knew things were going to work out because you said so. I wasn’t scared. Not until that chute opened and everything—”
“—I don’t want to relive that,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t remember much, anyway. Just the pain.”
He stretched his mangled hand and for the first time since he and Allie had ended their relationship, she slid her long, strong fingers over his scarred, mangled ones.
He flinched, but didn’t pull away.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked.
“Only when it’s going to rain.”
She glided her fingers into the spaces between his, her palm nestling over the hand he’d hurt because she’d allowed her own selfish fears to override every ounce of good sense the good Lord had given her.
She should have waited until after his ride. She should have held her own terror in check long enough for James to ride that bull, qualify for the next level, and pocket his winnings. How differently would things have turned out if she’d just kept her mouth shut for another half an hour, maybe less?
“Feel any precipitation in our future?” she asked, sliding her other hand beneath his so that she’d sandwiched his warmth with hers. Touching him now, as it had in the past, fascinated her. Something about the way his skin felt against hers wrapped her up in a cocoon of curiosity and intrigue—as if every sensation was a mystery that needed to be fully explored.
When he answered, his voice was as low and as rumbling as thunder. “I have a strong premonition that things are about to get real wet, real soon.”
She lifted her gaze to his, not at all surprised to see brazen lust zigzagging across his blue-sky irises like the lightning. But this tempest wasn’t going to hurt them. It would heal them. She knew it. She’d stake her future on it. And his.
4
JAMES KNEW ALLIE was going to kiss him. He watched her eyes, so green and hypnotic, cloud over with that familiar fog of need that helped a woman do things that might not seem so right if she had complete clarity.
But he wasn’t going to stop her. He was a man who knew when to put up his dukes and when to surrender to the inevitable. Since she’d left, he’d been on guard, perpetually looking over his shoulder, trying to protect himself from the dangers of tangling with any woman who might chomp down on his heart—and Allie Barrie was the most ravenous of all. And yet, the moment her sweet, slick lips pressed lightly to his, every ounce of tension holding his body upright melted away.
He wanted this. He wanted her. He’d rather take a death roll with her into the depths of dangerous desire than continue sailing away from trouble—safe, but unchallenged. He needed this. He needed her.
“Allie,” he breathed as she pressed their tangled hands against his chest until he was lying flat on his back.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” she challenged, her body stretched out across his so that her breasts nestled against him, her pelvis flush with his.
“I won’t lie to you.”
“Then lie with me,” she begged. “I’m not asking for more than just tonight. One night. By morning, we’ll know what’s left, if anything, between us. I need to know, James. I can’t move on when I’m still so rooted in the past.”
He shook his head, even as she trailed her lips across the curve of his jaw then up to the lobe of his ear. Groans of pleasure plucked through his brain while she traced the sensitive skin with her tongue, her strong left hand still twined with his weakened right one. In some dark part of his heart that was too damned deep for him to reach when the soft weight of her ample breasts blocked the route, he knew they shouldn’t do this. Making love with Allie was going to open him up to troubles he’d left behind him years ago.
But then, maybe opening up those troubles would finally set them free.
He flipped her over, instantly invigorated by the familiar feel of her body beneath his. Her breath caught, but a smile lit her eyes like green fire.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life,” she said.
That was all he needed to know. This time, he did the kissing, plundering her mouth with all the vigor of a seventeen-year-old boy and the skill of a twenty-nine-year-old man who’d parted those lips before, who’d tangled tongues with her more times than he could count and who had intoxicated himself on her flavors so often, everything about her was familiar and fresh at the same time. She tore at the buttons of his shirt while he lifted the hem of hers and in what seemed like a flash of fabric and lace, they were bare from the waist up.
Her tan lines made him rock hard. Her breasts, full and lush, were pale triangles outlined by darker flesh that matched the centers of her areolas. She spent enough time in the sun to turn her nipples into bull’s-eyes—ones he didn’t intend to miss.
He ran his damaged hand up from her waist, then over her breasts. The hard flesh of his scars scraped over her silky softness until it met the bud. He didn’t have a lot of strength in his joints, but his nerve endings worked just fine. He reveled in the dense weight of her, in her satin texture, in her open responsiveness that had her panting and cooing with each flick of his thumb over the sensitive nub.
She grabbed the sides of his cheeks and met him halfway in a kiss that was sloppy and hungry and honest and desperate and real—so real, it beat away the last of his old fantasies and gave him a clarity he hadn’t had for a long time.
The dim lamp on his bedside was insufficient for the moment. He rolled off her, kissing her softly on the tip of her nose before he pulled down the blinds and turned on every light in the room, including the one in the bathroom.
“Are you sending some kind of signal to the electric company?” she asked, a giggle in her voice.
“Nope,” he said, toeing out of his boots before he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. “I just don’t want to miss an inch of you. My one hand might not be what it used to, but my eyes work just fine. Better than fine.”
She snagged her bottom lip in her teeth. “I don’t think we ever made love in this much light before.”
He dropped his pants. “Unless you count sunlight. Remember that one time? In the south pasture? Up near the creek?”
Her cheeks pinkened. Of course she remembered. She’d worn a frilly little sundress that afternoon—and no panties. It had been the first time she’d allowed him to taste her down there, his head buried beneath the cottony folds of her skirt.
“How could I forget?”
He hummed his agreement, then stepped out of his boxers, leaving himself open to her widening gaze. Scars aside, he had a lot to be proud of, so he remained still until her stare reached his jutting sex.
She licked her lips.
Oh, yeah. He was going to feel those lips wrapped around him at some point tonight, but that wasn’t his first priority. First, he wanted her completely naked, like him.
He moved to the edge of the bed, grabbed her foot and tugged until the chunky-heeled, alligator-skin boot ca
me free. He did the same to the other, then took his time sneaking his fingers up the hem of her jeans so he could roll off the lacy socks she wore underneath.
She helped the process by releasing the buttons of her jeans and then lifting her hips so he could divest her of her denim. Now, the only barrier to him enjoying a full and complete view of her lusciously nude body were her panties, and that wasn’t much of a barrier for a man like him.
He kissed a path from her ankle to her knee. Like her shoulders and arms, her skin was smooth and tanned. Living on the Texas coast, she probably spent hours in the sun; her flesh graduated in color from the spiced caramel of her toes to the creamy ivory of her inner thighs.
“Oh, James,” she cooed as he spread her knees wide enough for him to look his fill while he marked her with one, strong suck on the sensitive skin.
He used a single finger to part her tight curls, drawing a lazy path through the pink, pulsing folds of her sex. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of her need, he felt his cock twitch and tighten. Oh, yeah, it was going to be inside there real soon—but not before he’d blazed the path first with his tongue.
He took an exploratory taste.
“Allie, honey,” he growled. “You taste so sweet.”
She dragged her hands into his hair, her fingernails scraping at his scalp. She managed to mutter his name, but not much else. And that was just fine with him. He didn’t want talking now. He wanted tasting and pleasuring and the utter and complete freedom of knowing that for this moment in time, Allie Barrie belonged to him and only him.
* * *
ALLIE COULDN’T FORM a sentence, couldn’t hold tight to a single coherent thought. Her awareness was completely and utterly focused on the feel of James’s hands, lips, teeth and tongue. She had no idea how long he’d been feasting on her, but he was taking his time just like he always did, milking every ounce of sensation out of her, coaxing her with patient, precise pleasures until every inch of her skin was on fire with need.
But Allie wasn’t like a firework. She never had been. She didn’t flare up and explode. She was a slow burn that took stoking attention—the kind that a man like Hook knew how to give.
He carved his tongue through the grooves and crevices of her sex, ignoring her clit until it was thick and swollen and needful. He used his fingers to open her up, then concentrated his loving on the part of her that needed him most.
But he didn’t forget the rest. He laid aside his feast from time to time to make love to her belly button with his tongue, bite and suck her nipples, then her throat until she was sure she had red, swollen marks all over her skin. But she didn’t care—the sensations were worth the price of branding.
When he covered her mouth with his, she could taste her own flavors on his lips for an instant before she was overwhelmed by the unique spices that were his and his alone.
“You still take a while to come, don’t you?” he asked, slipping a finger inside her.
Even as her snug flesh wrapped around him, she couldn’t deny the truth. “Thankfully, you were always patient.”
“Man like me appreciates a challenge. Oh, you feel that?” he said, pressing a second finger inside her, “You’re so tight. How long has it been since...?”
“What?”
She was having trouble concentrating on the conversation while he was stroking her so rhythmically, so deeply.
“How long since your last lover?”
She shook her head, not just because thinking about another man was the last thing she wanted to do, but because the memory was too distant to grab on to easily. “A long time.”
“Why? Aren’t there any hot guys in swimsuits parading up and down the beach?”
He found her clit with his thumb and toggled with just enough pressure to make her gasp. “Hot guys are a dime a dozen. I want—I want, oh—”
“You want to come,” he supplied.
“Yes.”
He pressed deeper, fuller. “You’re going to, honey. You’re going to come so long and loud that my dogs are going to come running. I’m just not sure when. There’s a lot yet to do. A lot yet to see.”
He was teasing her. Taunting her. She had a moment of clarity enough to realize that he was enjoying this, both in a good way and bad. Of all the men she’d ever been with, none had possessed the power over her that Hook had. He’d never used that power against her.
Not until now.
“Look at all you want. Taste and touch and torture all you want,” she said. “Just don’t get out of this bed before I’ve screamed your name.”
He grinned. “What about me screaming your name?”
Allie’s insides melted, and from the way he increased the pressure of his touch, she knew he felt her intensified need. He had all the power, but he didn’t mind sharing. When she pushed him onto his back, he didn’t let her go, didn’t stop stroking her, so she spent a full minute riding his hand until tiny pops of pleasure nearly left her blind.
“You’d...better...”
“Stop?” he asked.
“Unless you’re ready to go the distance.”
He shook his head, his dark hair shining blue in the bright light against the stark white pillow. He released her, giving her a second to regain her equilibrium while he folded his hands behind his head and took on the expression she imagined would look at home on a cat who’d just eaten a canary.
She tried to scowl at him, but she was sure with her hair all mussed and her skin flushed pink with pleasure, she didn’t look very threatening.
“You’re a piece of work, James Hooker.”
“A fine piece of work,” he agreed. “One that you haven’t seen in a good long while, so look your fill.”
She bit the inside of her mouth to keep herself from laughing. He’d always been confident with his body, but she supposed he had every reason to be. He’d been riding rodeo since before he was in the double digits, so he’d grown up lean but muscled. And being off the circuit for nearly a decade hadn’t made him softer, though he was more filled out in all the right places. She stretched her hands down his sides and then across his pecs, hard with muscle but soft with hair. She bent forward and kissed a path from the center of his throat to the middle of his chest. She diverged long enough to slip her tongue around his nipples, tugging tight in the way she loved when he did it to her.
His pleasured groan told her she’d hit the mark.
She moved lower, spanning her hands over his stomach, her thumbs tracing down the outline of his pelvis. Then her mouth trailed downward until her chin met the hot tip of his erection.
His sharp intake of breath told her what he wanted.
Not that she needed to be told. She’d wanted to take him into her mouth from the first moment he’d thrown off his boxers.
And since she finally had him where she wanted him, she did.
Cradling his balls in her palm, she stroked the full length of him, slipping her tongue over his tip until he rustled beneath her. She tossed her hair back, remembering how much he loved to watch her. When he started murmuring her name, extolling her beauty and cursing the universe for making him wait this long to have her again, she took him fully into her mouth.
The sensations fired her nearly as much as they fired him. He was salty and hard like a savory treat laced with an intoxicating blend of flavors concocted just to drive a woman wild. She loved everything about this—everything about him. She loved how her mouth was full of his heat, how her jaw ached and her lungs burned for air.
Then before she knew it, he’d torn her away and positioned her beneath him, the swollen head of his cock pressed just hard enough against her to reawaken her body, but not enough to join them together.
“You make me crazy,” he said, his eyes wild with need.
She desperately wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and force him inside, but they needed protection. She was on birth control, but no matter what foolishness she’d blurted out earlier, now wasn’t the time to be stupid, no matter
how delicious stupid might prove to be.
“Condom!” she cried.
“Shit,” he said, rolling over and tearing open the drawer behind his bed with such force, the contents flew onto the floor.
He managed to snag a square packet from what was left, tear it open and sheath his erection in record time. And then he was inside her.
But not all the way. Oh, no. That would be too easy. Too satisfying. Too instantaneously explosive and satisfying.
He was going to draw this out—because he knew that drawing it out was the only way to reach the end.
“Oh, baby,” he said, pressing an inch or two farther inside. “Yeah, you’re so tight, but wet. Feel me?”
She wrapped her legs around him. “Please. More.”
He gave her another inch, withdrew, then pressed in beyond the snugness.
She gasped for breath. “More.”
He struck hard and because the pain was utter bliss, she wanted him to do it again.
“Again.”
He slammed into her a second time, holding himself hard inside her until she could gather enough breath to beg him one more time.
“Again. Harder. James. Do it, James. Don’t stop. I want you. Don’t stop.”
He listened. Heaven help her, but he granted her wishes, over and over and over, until she teetered on the brink of release, her entire body engaged in the single act of achieving orgasm, of finding that brief and momentary euphoria that came only from the wild and raw joining of man to woman. She was vaguely aware of him suckling her neck, nipping at her breasts, cradling her ass with his hands while he moved her into the precise position for full penetration—but it wasn’t until he pressed his thumb to her center that she finally screamed out as she’d promised and tumbled over the edge, taking him with her every step of the way.
5
JUST BEFORE DAWN, James eased away from Allie’s intoxicating warmth and tried not to wince out loud when his bare feet hit the cold floor. She stirred for a second, her soft moan acting like a siren’s call. His body wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed with her and stay there until the sun stirred her awake so they could share a round of morning sex.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew UpHooked Page 12
