And clearly, he hadn’t changed.
When her knees started to buckle from spasms of pleasure, he pushed her onto the bed, positioning her so that her bottom was barely on the edge. He spread her legs wide and slurped, suckled, bit and tugged at her labia and clit until the room started to spin. By the time he dropped his pants and slipped on a condom, she was close to the edge, simmering with the kind of heat that could explode with the slightest provocation.
Luckily, there was nothing slight about James. He grabbed her hands and pulled her into a sitting position before he knelt down in front of her and pushed inside.
The sensation of the position shattered her equilibrium. She clutched at his shoulders even while she flattened her feet on the ground.
“Yeah,” he encouraged, smoothing his hands down her thighs. “Got yourself some leverage there, now. Here, let’s add this.”
He grabbed a pillow and positioned it just under her bottom to angle her. When he thrust forward, her entire world went wonky.
“Oh!” she cried.
“Yeah, sweetheart. That’s it. Meet me halfway and I’ll take you over the top.”
The position was intimate—his mouth to her mouth, then lower to her breasts, then back up to her face. She released him, bracing her arms behind her so that arching her back completed the last adjustment. His strong, purposeful thrusts hit her in the precise spot that flared her climax. By the time he stood, pushed her back and pounded so hard into her she thought she’d ascended into sensation heaven, her climax burst open the last of her inhibitions and she was screaming out nonsensical words of amazement without giving a damn that the windows were open and the whole ranch could hear.
He rolled over beside her. With his jeans dangling around his ankles, he looked like the schoolboy she’d fallen so deeply in love with. His chest heaved and when their eyes met, they both dissolved into laughter.
“Told you,” he said, turning his wrist so she could see his watch.
She hadn’t marked the time, but she had no doubt that he’d accomplished his goal within the deadline. James Hooker never made a promise he couldn’t keep—never.
“I want to do that again,” she confessed.
“Honey, so do I, but even I have my limits.”
She rolled over onto her side and slapped him lightly on the chest. “Not now! Later. After you’re done impressing your investors. Of course, the whole of the
J. Roger probably heard what just happened. If I was them, I’d be impressed.”
He chuckled. “The arena’s clear on the other side of the property. You can scream all you want and no one’s gonna hear you but me. And I do love that sound. And I’m going to hear it again. And again. And again. As soon as all these strangers are off my land.”
He kissed her softly, in utter contrast to the sex they’d just shared, which had been hot and hard and explosive. As he did so, he kicked off his boots and pants, then allowed her to pull his T-shirt over his head and bathe his chest in wet kisses before he climbed off the bed and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.
She grabbed the pillow he’d placed underneath her and tugged it against her chest, unable to stop the wash of disappointment that scudded through her. Though she’d had more sex in the last twelve hours than she’d had in the previous twelve months, she wanted more. More sex. More orgasms. More Hook.
Much, much more.
But how much more could she handle? At some point, she was going to have to make a decision about where this was going. Her first goal, to work her way back into his bed, had been achieved. Now she had to see if it was viable for her to remain in his life for longer than a couple of nights.
And this time around, it wasn’t just up to him. To make a reunion work, she was going to have to change the direction of her own future—a decision she’d thought she’d been ready to make.
But was she?
* * *
JAMES GRABBED A FADED red bandanna from the bed of his truck and wiped the sweat from his face. He glanced up at the sky, and, figuring the hour to be just shy of noon, he decided he didn’t have time for another shower before the investors showed. He tore off his perspiration-ripe shirt, grabbed a bottled water and poured half of it into the fabric and gave himself a working-man’s bath.
On any other day, he might have been able to return to the house and clean up in less than ten minutes, but now that Allie was there, he knew he’d take much, much longer. Just as his uncle had warned, the woman was one-hundred-percent distraction. A beautiful, sensual, mind-blowing distraction—one he hadn’t been expecting, wasn’t prepared for and sure as hell didn’t know how to resist.
But he had to find a way—at least for the long-term. She looked damned luscious in his house and felt perfectly at home in his kitchen, his bed, his life. Yet despite all their teenage dreams, he knew better than to think this fantasy was going to last more than a couple of days. Allie had to finish her doctorate—and beyond that, she had the job offer. He had no doubt that wherever she ended up, it would be somewhere with a lot more to offer her than the J. Roger ever could.
“Hope you remembered to pack something clean to wear before those big shots show up,” Maylene Drummond said, her hands wringing through the folds of her apron as she walked up from the barbecue area. “Unless they’re women, in which case I highly suggest you remain shirtless.”
James spun around in time to catch Allie’s aunt give him a saucy wink.
He smiled and tugged a clean button-down out of the bag in the back of his truck. “I’m not a hillbilly, Miss Maylene. I do know how to clean up for company.”
“You clean up for my niece, too? ’Cause don’t think I didn’t see her car parked out in front of your house on my way out here.”
“I would never assume you wouldn’t notice such an important detail.”
She scowled and for an instant, James was sorry he’d added a tinge of sass to his reply. Miss Maylene was a Lost Gun institution in the making, as she wasn’t quite old enough to achieve that small-town status just yet. In her late forties, she was as petite as her niece, but infinitely more compact. He’d seen her physically remove inebriated roustabouts from her diner for cursing—and not even break a sweat. He knew he was safe when the left side of her mouth tilted into a half grin, as if she found the whole situation with him and Allie amusing, despite the repercussions they both knew could bring a whole lot of people more pain than they deserved.
“I’m no gossip, James Hooker. And I’m not a busybody, neither. I gave that sweet girl the apartment over my diner so she didn’t have her every coming and going examined by her father or his new wife.”
New being a relative term. Allie’s father had remarried nearly six years ago. But it said a lot that his sister still considered the spouse to be an interloper.
“I’m sure Allie appreciates the privacy, but your place is pretty crowded, too. We figured coming out to the J. Roger was a better idea. You have to give us points for not taking this to town,” he said.
She harrumphed. “Whatever this is, I suppose?”
He shrugged. He couldn’t tell her what this was. He didn’t really know—and wasn’t sure he’d say even if he did. He and Allie had enjoyed a spectacular night and even more invigorating morning. He could get used to having a woman like her around permanently, even though he knew the chances of that happening were between zero and none.
“Allie and I have a lot to...work out.”
“Is that what you kids are calling it now?” she asked saucily, then waved her hand as if she really didn’t want an answer. “I’ll play along. I’d rather you two settle your business out here anyway. I open early and my predawn regulars would have had a mighty fine time spreading the news of your walk of shame all over Lost Gun.”
“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” he countered while he thrust his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and attempted to fasten up the front as best he could. The fingers of his right hand were showing the signs of all the hard
work he’d been putting into the arena in the past few weeks. Stiff and throbbing, they had a hard time working the buttons.
He was only glad none of the guys were around to see Miss Maylene slap his hands aside so she could do the job herself.
“No, you don’t. You could do a lot worse than my niece.”
“Trouble is, she could do a lot better than me.”
“How the hell do you figure that? You’re a fine specimen of a man and you know it. I don’t recall you ever having trouble catching the interest of the young girls in town.”
“I’m not trying to be humble, Miss Maylene. I’m not a bad catch for a woman who’d be happy living out in the middle of nowhere. But let’s be honest. Allie’s got bigger ambitions.”
“How would you know?”
“She spent a heck of a lot of her daddy’s money paying for her education. I’m not sure what someone with a doctorate in marine biology is going to do in landlocked Lost Gun, do you?”
Maylene frowned. The woman was a paragon of common sense and it didn’t take a whole lot to see that what he was saying was true. By building this arena on the land he’d inherited from his uncle, James had ensured that the rest of his life was going to be spent on the J. Roger Ranch. Unless, of course, the whole venture failed.
But even if it did, he still couldn’t imagine himself living anywhere but here. Lost Gun was in his blood.
After giving his collar a tug for good measure, she gave his cheek two gentle pats, then one stinging slap, clearly to get his attention.
“You let Allie decide what she wants to do with her life and her education. The only way she can do that is if she finally comes to term with whatever is left—or isn’t—between you. She’s been chasing after you for an awful long time, Hook. You just play it fair with her and things’ll work out however they’re meant to.”
He nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to play games with Allie, and while he certainly didn’t want to mislead her in any way, he wasn’t about to push her away now because of his concerns over her future. She had to make the choices she had to make—and he had to make his.
“Right now, the only thing I’m worried about working out is impressing my investors with our progress. I hope you trotted out your best barbecue.”
She rolled her eyes. “Honey, I don’t serve anything that isn’t my best. And Allie even gave me some advice when she first got here about how to talk up the—what was it she said?—sustainability of my food. Says it’ll appeal to their bottom line that my menu is local and that I grow my own herbs and grind my own spices. Something about foodies, whatever the hell they are.”
James chuckled. He had no idea what Allie had been talking about, but if it sounded good to the investors, he was all for it. “You just make sure they know how much money they’re going to make off of concessions. That’s all they’ll care about. That and the flavor of the food. Nothing makes a man happier than a stomach full of delicious food.”
Maylene rolled her eyes. “That ain’t true, James Hooker, but as you’re not converting the J. Roger into a chicken ranch, delicious food will have to do.”
7
BY THE TIME A TRIO of double-cab trucks came up the drive, James was ready for them. He greeted his cousin first and then shook hands with the representatives from the bank, the rodeo association board and an aide from the office of his state congressman. Home-grown businesses were a high priority in this part of the country. The J. Roger would generate more than just attention for Lost Gun, which had turned out more rodeo stars per capita than any other town in Texas.
By the time he’d finished the tour and led the group over to the umbrella-topped picnic tables for lunch, he’d relaxed and concentrated on enjoying his accomplishments. His construction crew’s progress had been just short of miraculous. The training facility would be a top-notch draw for the best of the best, and the arena, with its booming sound system, high-tech flat screens and comfortable seating, would take the rodeo experience up to levels not unlike a big-draw concert, which was what they planned to use the place for when the rodeo wasn’t in town.
These men had sunk a ton of cash into the project and judging by the infectious grins and back-patting, the afternoon had been a success. And when he caught sight of Allie helping her aunt portion out her famous brisket onto plates lined with cheery red-checked paper, he knew he hadn’t had a better day in a hell of a long time.
“Here you go.”
When she swapped places with Maylene so she could deliver food to the table and reached across to set a plate in front of him, his stomach wasn’t the only part of his anatomy growling with hunger.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is the kind of service I could get used to.”
Her green eyes widened. “Could you really?”
But before he could form a response, his cousin butted in to the conversation.
“Allie? Allie Barrie, what the heck are you doing back in Lost Gun serving barbecue? You didn’t have a nasty run-in with a shark that sent you scrambling back to dry land, did you?”
Paul, who’d graduated a year ahead of Allie and one year behind James, stood up with an opened arm, which Allie fell into for a friendly hug.
“Sharks get a bad rap,” she countered. “I’m just helping my aunt out today, what with so many important people coming out to the J. Roger.”
Each and every one of the men blushed and grinned like fools. Allie certainly did have that effect on people—even him.
Especially him.
“I hope all you gentleman know that this is the best food this part of Texas has to offer,” James added.
“Your wives’ and your mamas’ home-cooking excepted, of course,” Allie tossed in.
The investors laughed, and, as some had already dug into the moist and crusty meat, they yummed and nodded in agreement.
Paul took his seat, but didn’t let Allie leave. “I thought you were in the Caribbean working for that new resort that’s building a billion-dollar aquarium.”
Allie threw James a quick glance as she put a couple of baskets of jalapeño corn bread in the center of the table. They hadn’t had a chance to talk much about her job offer. He had no idea it would take her as far away as the Caribbean islands.
“My doctorate advisor has been the main consultant on the project since its inception. He’s offered me a position supervising the mammalian habitats, but I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.”
James concentrated on busting up the brisket with his fork, which wasn’t hard since the meat was tender as silk. He took a bite and tried to let the burst of beefy flavor distract him. He could feel Allie’s gaze on him, but he resisted every urge to react. He had no business influencing her decision one way or another.
“Have you been down there? I hear it’s spectacular,” Paul gushed. “I went to a time-share presentation about a year ago up in Dallas and I gotta tell you, if not for the state of the economy, I might have signed up on the spot. Hell, if this arena draws in the big names like we think it will, I just might!”
Beside him, the congressman’s aide started peppering him with questions about projections for the economic impact on this part of Texas, but James had a hard time concentrating when the visual of Allie in a bikini, lounging on a white-sand beach with an umbrella drink, popped into his brain. He took a sip of sweet tea and pushed the image away. Scientists like Allie didn’t sunbathe. At least, he didn’t think they did. Who would relax in the sun and surf when you had to work in it every day? Or was Allie the type of researcher who was kept holed up in a laboratory so that the lure of paradise might be enough to make her take the first cruise ship out of Houston?
“I’ve been out there twice, but there wasn’t much to see. Most of the work Dr. Rayburn oversees involves the integration of the local sea life into the design of the resort. It’s amazing, actually. The incorporation of natural ocean habitats into the vacation experience is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. It’s like
eco-tourism on steroids. It’s very exciting.”
James frowned. For some reason, hearing her speak with such ease and expertise made him lose his appetite.
“You must be chomping at the bit to be a part of it,” Paul continued.
This time, when she threw James a sidelong glance, she caught him staring. “I’m not sure what I want to do just yet. I’ve spent so much time in school, it’s hard to conceptualize the future as a real and tangible thing. Especially a future so far away from home.”
James nodded and force-fed himself another bite of meat. No doubt, the congressman’s aide thought he was agreeing with his assessment that the addition of a cell tower and the near completion of the impressive satellite hub would do wonders for bringing J. Roger events to an international audience via livestreaming. But he could hardly make sense of the man’s chatter. Allie was on the brink of making serious, life-changing decisions. She’d come home to find her direction and he was only now beginning to understand the weight of it all.
When he’d first invited her to follow him home last night, he’d figured that they had some talking to do—some real conversing that would put the past behind them for good. But it had turned into a hot and steamy reunion between two people who’d been sexually compatible since their first fumbling romp in the back of his flatbed truck. Waking up with her this morning had been like opening his eyes in heaven.
But how long could it last when she had so much more she needed to do with her life?
He’d promised Maylene that he wouldn’t make decisions for Allie about her future and he meant to keep that vow. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to encourage her to make her choice once and for all—and sooner rather than later.
* * *
AFTER THE BIGWIGS CLIMBED back into their trucks, full to the brim with Maylene’s awesome cooking and pleased as punch with the progress of the J. Roger Arena, Allie accepted James’s invitation to see the place on a private tour. They strolled alone through the cavernous main building, her left hand softly wrapped around his injured right one while he pointed out the modern twists they’d added to the design which elevated the J. Roger above an ordinary rodeo facility.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew UpHooked Page 14
