Ross

by Jennifer Ashley

Callie pushed Ross against the table in the tiny chamber, which library patrons could reserve for quiet study. Callie remembered coming here her senior year, right before finals, to cram.

  School wouldn’t be starting for weeks, it was almost closing time, and the top floor of the library was deserted.

  Her heart hammering, Callie jerked down the zipper of Ross’s jeans, sliding her hand to the warmth inside.

  Ross shook with laughter, which abruptly ceased as Callie closed her fingers around his smooth cock.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  Callie didn’t give him time to say more. She stepped close to him, rose on tiptoe, and kissed his mouth.

  She stumbled as he met her kiss with a hard one of his own, but Ross caught her in his arms. His little moan as she stroked him made her knees weaken.

  Ross’s strong grip held her up, his mouth on hers let her know her attack was welcome. Callie had made love with this man, but she’d not had enough time to explore him, to discover every fascinating aspect of his body.

  He was as big as his belt buckle promised. Callie ran her hand the length of him, her blood heating when he sucked in his breath. His balls tightened under her hand, wiry hair tickling her fingers.

  “Callie.” The word was a groan. “Shit.”

  “You said that before,” she whispered.

  “Look at you. Doing a deputy in a … whatever this is.”

  “Study carrel.”

  “Study carrel. Fuck of a time to learn new vocabulary.”

  Callie leaned into him, pressing him back. Ross slid himself up onto the table without dislodging Callie’s hand and leaned back on his elbows. He was a delectable sight, his jeans and underwear sagging down tight thighs, his eyes half closed, a sinful smile on his lips.

  “Didn’t you ever use a study carrel?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Nope. Never studied.”

  Ross, Callie had heard, unlike his four older brothers, had actually made good grades. A quick mind, Callie reasoned. He took in a situation, absorbed it, and understood it while others fumbled around.

  He’d obviously caught on to her intentions fast and had no inclination to stop her. If Callie wanted to be bad in the middle of the library, his dark smile said, so be it.

  Callie popped open the buttons of his shirt so she could kiss his skin. His chest rose under her lips as she kissed her way down, frantically pulling aside cloth.

  She pressed a kiss to his navel, then below it, her lips lingering. He tasted of salt and heat, his body hard but smooth.

  “Damn, girl.” Ross’s fingers moved in her hair, pulling it free of the scünci that bound it.

  “Woman,” Callie breathed, brushing kisses to his lower abdomen. “Not girl.”

  “You betcha. Oh, fuck.”

  He groaned the last as Callie licked his tip. Then she opened her mouth and drew him inside.

  Ross clenched one fist beside her. He ran strong fingers through her hair but didn’t drag her down, letting her lick and taste.

  She couldn’t believe she was with Ross Campbell, in the library, alone in the dim light of a dying Texas day, doing this. He filled her mouth with hard goodness, the taste of him spicy. She liked how he felt under her tongue, hot and smooth, hard and slick. She took more of him, stretching her mouth to fit him.

  Callie had never done this before, but she knew the theory. Her fiancé had been too fastidious to have wicked, dirty sex. Ross, the county deputy, the “good” Campbell, didn’t seem to mind at all.

  He made a noise of pleasure as she started to suck, his body moving under her touch.

  No sound reached Callie from without, the library well and truly silent. She heard only Ross’s breathing and her own, his whispered groans. She imagined a fictional librarian jerking open the door, finger to her lips, distressed only that they made any noise at all. She started to laugh, a fun thing to do with Ross in her mouth.

  Ross said her name again, his voice gravelly. Callie eased back and looked up at him as he moved one hand behind his head, his face soft with pleasure.

  This incredibly gorgeous man was spread out for her, welcoming her touch, wanting it.

  “You said we should see where this thing we have goes,” she said, giving him a slow smile. “I’m following my impulses.”

  “I like your impulses.” Ross watched her with languid eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Callie’s heart squeezed, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She tried to remind herself that she was coming off being deeply hurt, and she couldn’t trust her own emotions, but her engagement seemed long ago, the memories fuzzy. Ross was erasing all thoughts of what’s-his-name.

  She quickly bent to him before she said anything stupid, and once more filled her mouth with him. Wonderful, wonderful man, hard and wanting her.

  “Son of a bitch.” Ross’s words jerked from him. His hand landed in her hair, but he didn’t push, didn’t demand. “Sweet Callie. You’re going to make me come.”

  Callie flushed in excitement. She wanted to taste him, feel him pour into her. She’d never thought about such things before, and now she craved them with Ross.

  A soft chime made Callie jump hard. She yanked herself away from him, backing in the tiny space until she met the cool wooden door.

  “The library will be closing in five minutes,” Dena’s quiet voice came over the loudspeaker. “Please make sure you check out materials before you leave.”

  Callie sucked in a shaking breath. She was in a public library, and Dena would come up here looking for them if they didn’t soon go downstairs.

  Ross groaned, then he laughed. He slid himself off the table and grabbed his jeans, sounds of mirth doubling as he smacked into the shelves intended for students’ books.

  He pulled up his jeans, zipping and buttoning them. “Her timing sucks,” he said. “Cold shower for me.”

  “Or I could come to your place,” Callie said. Might as well keep on following those impulses. “It’s not far.”

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere else for a while, that’s for sure.” He chuckled as he pulled Callie into his arms and kissed her, at first tenderly, then more thoroughly.

  They pulled apart as the chime sounded again. Dena usually didn’t use a second chime, but she must know they’d be untangling themselves up here. Callie went hot with embarrassment, but at the same time, she wasn’t ashamed. Ross made wicked sex seem natural and right.

  She watched Ross button his shirt and tuck it in, then do up his belt, closing the large buckle in place. “Do me a favor, Callie. Walk between me and anyone we see. Please?”

  His laughter continued as they went down the stairs. Dena said a smooth good night, but her look told Callie she’d deduced Callie was falling in love with Ross, and she approved.

  They stepped out into Hill Country twilight, Ross wrapping Callie in as much warmth as the July sunshine.

  Several hours later, Ross lay by Callie’s side after an intense round of sex, their bare bodies entwined. Ross traced lazy patterns on her skin, following with slow kisses as he let the fact that he was with this amazing woman sink into his brain.

  She wasn’t the Callie Jones he’d lusted after in school, the out-of-reach angel, the one Ross shouldn’t mess up with his touch. If he’d known what a warmhearted person she truly was, he wouldn’t have chickened out asking her to the homecoming dance that day. He’d covered by saying he wanted her class notes. So feeble.

  This Callie was sweet, smart, funny, had lots of courage, and was seriously sexy. Okay, so the sexy part hadn’t changed.

  When she smiled at him, warm with afterglow, Ross knew that Callie walking away from him would be the hardest thing he ever faced.

  Ross slid over her again, bunching her blond-brown hair in his fingers as she welcomed him inside. His thoughts dissolved to simple joy, and they loved each other hard and fast.

  When daylight seeped through the windows, Ross opened his eyes to Callie waking up ne
xt to him. Best morning ever.

  They showered together and ate Ross’s home-cooked breakfast of eggs and sausage, toast and roasted potatoes. Callie dressed again in her riding clothes—it would be all over town Callie hadn’t gone home since she’d come running to visit him at the sheriff’s department, but oh well. His neighbors could suck it.

  They kissed goodbye in Ross’s garage where Callie had left her car. Because the door was closed, Ross indulged in a long, deep kiss while he ran his hands over the fabric stretched across Callie’s lovely ass.

  She partook in the kiss with equal enthusiasm, cupping his backside in return.

  They were laughing as they parted, Ross giving her one last kiss before she made it into her car. The silver Mercedes slid down the square in the bright sunshine and turned the corner to head east out of town.

  Ross let out a breath, smoothed his uniform, and walked across the square to the county courthouse.

  He ignored the knowing looks—an indulgent one from Mildred—and Sanchez’s and Harrison’s teasing, and walked down the hall of the sheriff’s department, knocking politely on the door marked Noah Hennessy, Sheriff, River County.

  Hennessy was at his desk, reading correspondence on his computer. Or maybe playing video games—Ross couldn’t tell from this angle.

  “What is it, Campbell?” Hennessy asked impatiently. Maybe he was about to reach his next level.

  “I thought it only fair to warn you,” Ross began.

  His tone caught Hennessy’s attention. His head snapped up, his game—or work—forgotten. “Warn me about what?”

  Ross straightened his spine. “I’ve decided to throw my hat into the ring and run for county sheriff. I wanted to tell you before I go in and make it official.”

  Hennessy’s eyes narrowed. Ross, for the first time since he’d worked at the department, had the man’s full attention.

  “Running for office is no joke, Campbell,” Hennessy said in his slow, condescending drawl. “Campaigning costs money. Signs and flyers alone are hellacious expensive, and I warn you, any donor is going to expect you to do what they want, damn what you think is right.”

  Was that what had happened to Sheriff Hennessy? He was at the mercy of his campaign donors? Had drug money elected River County’s sheriff?

  Absolutely nothing had come from the raid in White Fork. Even the cell phone Harrison had found had been pre-paid with the charges used up and call history erased. Still waiting for fingerprint and DNA results on it, but Ross expected nothing usable. He reasoned the thugs wouldn’t have left the phone if it could point to them in any way. They’d been well and truly warned.

  “I appreciate the advice,” Ross said. “But I’ve decided.”

  Hennessy rose, his bulk making his chair creak. “All right then. Thank you for your courtesy. Do me a favor and clean out your desk before you go. Leave your badge and gun with McGregor.”

  Ross remained still. “So, you’re firing me?” As predicted, but he’d half-hoped the sheriff would take the high road.

  “I’m giving you the opportunity to resign. Conflict of interest. I can’t have insubordination in the office or the possibility that you’ll disobey an order and endanger me or your fellow deputies.”

  “I’ve never done that,” Ross said, keeping hold of his temper. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Oh, running for office changes a man, Campbell. You’ll learn that. It’s your choice. Drop the idea and go back to your job, or run against me and get out.”

  Rage, doubt, disgust, and rage again ran through Ross. The most even-tempered Campbell balled his fists as the choice dangled before him.

  Ross loved his job, always had. He helped people, whether they knew it or not, whether they thanked him or not. It gave him a sense of purpose, even on the most boring stakeouts or long days filled with paperwork. The idea of not walking across the square to his desk every day, shooting the breeze with Sanchez, arguing with McGregor, slowly making friends with Harrison, opened an empty pit before him.

  He’d chosen long ago not to be a stunt-riding cowboy, to take a job he considered meaningful.

  What would he be if he hung up his badge? If Ross lost the election, Hennessy would never let him come back. He’d fill Ross’s place and move on, leaving Ross to crawl home to his family and try to figure out what to do next.

  On the other hand, the Sheriff of River County was taking kickbacks from drug dealers and placating his campaign supporters instead of keeping the citizens of Riverbend, White Fork, and surrounding communities safe.

  If Ross wanted to help people, the first thing to do was get rid of the corrupt sheriff.

  He looked Hennessy in the eye, and made his choice.

  “All right then,” he said with slow steadiness. “Please accept my resignation. It’s been great working for you.”

  He didn’t wait for Hennessy’s reaction, only turned and walked out of the office, squaring his shoulders as he went.

  Callie sailed over the crossbar on her favorite horse, Sunny, who landed squarely and cantered on the correct lead to the next low fence.

  She loved this—the wind in her face, the mare moving beneath her, Callie balancing for every jump. Riding was her life. She couldn’t believe she’d almost given it up to live in manicured suburbia.

  Sunny landed perfectly on the other side of the next fence, and Callie patted her. “Good girl.”

  She turned the mare for cooling laps, and saw Ross standing by the gate.

  Callie stiffened, and Sunny, picking up her agitation, danced sideways. Callie calmed her with another pat, surprised at herself for losing her composure.

  But he looked so damn hot. Ross had shucked his uniform for jeans and a T-shirt, boots, and a cowboy hat, its brim shielding his face from the bright Texas sunshine.

  She’d left him only a few hours ago. Unable to settle down in the house, Callie had put on fresh riding clothes and headed to the stables. Manny was there already, helping to clean out stalls, groom horses, and carry bales of hay to the mangers.

  He poked his head out of the barn in curiosity, but Callie was glad to see Manny continued working instead of dropping everything to watch.

  Callie slowed Sunny to a walk and continued around the ring before coming to a halt.

  “Mr. Campbell,” she said, loosening her helmet as she looked down at him. “What brings you here?”

  “You call that a saddle?” Ross asked, pushing back his hat to study the Wintec beneath her. “I call it a pot holder.”

  “I’m not strapping a huge Western saddle onto my best jumper and taking her around a course,” Callie said calmly. “Might as well use a park bench. But wait ’til you see me in my Western getup, cowboy. I won my barrel racing ribbons fair and square.”

  “I know you did.” Ross’s warm look made her heat. Callie had been proud of her gymkhana days. “You looked hot in your pigtails.”

  Callie slid out of the stirrups, swung her right leg behind her, leaned on the saddle, and moved smoothly to the ground, landing on both feet.

  “I’d pay to see you ride in an English saddle, hotshot,” she said.

  Ross’s brows lifted. Before she could answer, he hung his hat on a post and swiftly climbed the fence, his movements economical.

  His cowboy boot looked wrong in the iron stirrup, but Ross swung himself up onto the mare without disturbing her. Sunny looked around at him, wondering at the stranger on her back, but she settled immediately, knowing a competent rider when she felt one.

  Callie adjusted the left stirrup for him, very aware of the strength of Ross’s leg hanging next to her, the tightness of his thigh at her eye level. Pretending nonchalance, she went around to adjust his right stirrup.

  Ross fitted the reins under his thumbs and out beneath his pinkies without Callie having to tell him. No trying to neck rein with the snaffle bit.

  She eyed him in suspicion. “You’ve done this before.”

  “When I was twelve, I made the mistake of telling a c
hampion jumper I thought English riding was sissy. He schooled me. Literally. I took a year of lessons with him.”

  “I never knew that,” Callie said in surprise.

  “I kept it a deep, dark secret. But it taught me respect. And how to stay on a horse without relying on my park bench saddle to keep me there.” Ross turned Sunny to put her into a walk then a smart trot, rising and falling in a competent post.

  “By the way,” Ross said as he rode past, his very nice butt going up and down in even rhythm. “I filed the paperwork to run for sheriff today. And Hennessy fired me.”

  “What?”

  Callie started forward, but Ross nudged Sunny into a canter. He executed a perfect turn, rode at the low crossbars, and eased Sunny over it in a neat jump.

  “Ross!”

  Ross cantered to the corner, turned the mare, and rode to the second jump. Sunny changed leads on cue and prettily rose over the fence, ears pricked, Ross low on her back.

  Horse and rider moved as one, and Callie spent a moment drinking him in.

  As he slowed the horse and walked her over to Callie, she wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth.

  “Fired you?” she choked out when Ross dismounted with the ease of long practice.

  “Yep.” Ross drew the mare’s reins over her head and folded them competently in his hand. “I either win, or I have no job in the sheriff’s department.” He shrugged. “Course I won’t have a paycheck now, so I’ll have to move back in with my mom. How lame is that? Grown man, living with his parents.”

  Callie had said much the same thing to Ray Malory, but the twinkle in Ross’s eyes told Callie he didn’t really mind. Carter and his family had their own wing in the Campbell’s ranch house, and Tyler had until recently been living in the apartment over the garage. The Campbell family home was like the Jones’s—anyone welcome, anytime.

  “You don’t have to worry about money,” Callie said before she could stop herself. “I have some. Enough to support us, anyway.” Her mouth kept moving, Callie in alarm hearing her own words come out. “Marry me and I’ll help you run your campaign.”

  Chapter Fifteen