Tomorrow morning, Shep would go home.
Her stomach twisted with a familiar sense of loneliness. After the funeral, everyone had gone home, back to their lives, including her parents. She hadn’t realized how much she liked having people around. Today felt like it had when Grams had been alive and they took care of the animals, when Grams knew everything and Emma simply had to follow her lead. They ate good food and shared laughs.
Regret pressed against Emma’s chest, leaving her unable to fill her lungs completely. She should’ve visited Grams more than a couple weeks each summer, and the weekly phone calls they had. She should’ve done a lot of things. Life always seemed to get in the way. Quietly, she padded her way down the hallway lined with paintings of nature and entered her mother’s old bedroom, where Emma always slept when she visited River Rock. She hadn’t stayed in this bed yet. Grams’s bed smelled like her. That’s where Emma had stayed, night after night. She needed that closeness, a thousand regrets pilling up on top of each other. Her throat tightened again, but she pushed the emotion away quickly, not getting lost in all the things she couldn’t change. If she tried to fix anything, she figured the last strands holding everything together would snap away. There was no picking up the pieces. There was only starting over.
She moved to the double bed against the far wall surrounded by white end tables. The purple-and-white quilt had been handmade by Grams. Emma slid her fingers over the soft fabric from the foot of the bed up to the pillow. All this love and time put into a blanket to keep Emma warm whenever she slept over.
“Sweet dreams, my darling,” Grams said softly, tucking the blanket around Emma until she couldn’t move. “I love you all the way to the moon and back.”
The memory hit out of nowhere, and Emma swore she could hear Grams’s sweet, gentle voice soothing over her. Tears filled her eyes and she shut them against the pain of her grandmother’s absence. That tender voice made everything better, even when things were so very wrong. God, what Emma wouldn’t give to have her Grams back now. Sure, she had her mom, but it wasn’t the same. Grams would’ve known exactly what to say when Jake crushed her. And she’d know what Emma should do with her life now. Should she return to New York City and face all those judgmental stares with her head held high? Sure, she’d have a lot of proving to do to show the advertising world she deserved her promotion. Or should she build a new life in River Rock? But what was there for her? Kinky Spurs? Living off tips?
Emma sighed, wiped her tears. Grams would know these answers.
“It’s okay to miss her.”
Emma spun on her heels, opened her mouth, then promptly closed it. All sadness fled in a millisecond.
Leaning against the doorframe, Shep wore only his jeans, no shirt in sight. Oh my fucking God. Dream Shep had nothing on the real thing. Anyone could tell that Shep worked hard for a living. He didn’t seem the type of man that would spend hours in the gym, indicating his job was the reason he was built for hard labor. His wide shoulders, squared chest, gloriously perfect six-pack with deep ridges made for exploring fingers—all of it was mouthwateringly hot.
His voice deepened into a low rumbly tone. “Darlin’, you really need to stop looking at me like that.”
She lifted her gaze to his potent stare. Heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” The side of his mouth curved, like he knew the power he had over her. “I happen to enjoy watching you eye-fuck me, but you’re making it hard for me to be a gentleman.”
Her knees weakened, heart raced. How tempting it was to engulf this fiery passion burning between them, not run from it. And how confusing was that? No more casual sex, wasn’t that what she said? She knew where relationships like that ended up, nowhere good. Yet, her mouth parted, and out came, “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
Something fierce crossed his expression then, darkening his eyes. He stepped forward, bringing all that strong manly heat in close. He smelled of rain and wood and all that was perfect in this world. He dipped his head, and all she had to do was reach out and touch him. “What exactly do you want from me, Emma?” His lips were right there. His naked flesh, right there. “Do you want me to take control of you and roughly take what’s mine for the night?”
His sexy smile revealed a horrible truth. She nearly melted into the floor. “Oh, dear Lord, I told you about my dream?” Please say no. Please say no.
He lifted his hand, gently dragging his knuckles across her cheek. “Ah, but I happen to like that dream you had and shared with me.” He slid his thumb across her chin, tilting her head up to stare deeply into his gorgeous eyes. “You still haven’t answered me. Do you want me to kiss you slowly, savoring every little bit of your mouth?” His thumb brushed across the plumpest part of her bottom lip. “Or shall I punish you with my kiss, making you regret that you ever turned me down?” The heat of his body sizzled against her as he leaned in closer, his warm breath across her mouth. “Tell me, Emma, shall I tie you up with my ropes like I already have? Do you remember what that felt like? Did you like it, sweetheart?”
“You know I liked it,” she managed, breathless.
His grin was pure sin. “You’re right, I do know that.” He dragged his knuckles over her flushing cheek again, seemingly touching her soul-deep. Her mouth parted, breaths became heavier when he ran the pads of his fingers slowly down her arms, the power he exuded like a wall of strength in front of her. “Tell me, Emma,” he finished.
The words nearly fell out of her mouth. She wanted to experience his brand of passion. She got the feeling if she let go with him, he’d deliver where others had failed. Almost as if he’d take away all the pain, all the confusion, and silence her fears.
Her mouth parted to say, Make me forget it all. The words died in her throat. Her fears were bigger and stronger than her desire. She’d been fooled by one man before. The icy cold reminder still splintered her heart, there and unavoidable. “I can’t,” she said softly.
“You can’t.” There was no disappointment in his voice, only firmness. “Then I can’t.”
He took her hand into the strength of his, and she slowly opened her eyes, her breath catching at the contained power in his expression.
Shep breathed sex and passion, and the danger of him presented itself to her. Causal sex was one thing, but she got the feeling Shep didn’t do causal sex. He was pure emotion, total connection, and all intimacy. He’d wrap her up emotionally and take everything she had, and when he was finished with her, he’d demand more.
With his eyes locked onto hers, he led her from the bedroom. Once in the hallway, he turned to her, leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Emma.”
She could finally breathe again. “Good night, Shep.”
Then with that blazing-hot gaze pinning her to where she stood, he shut the bedroom door, leaving her, and all her thoughts, alone in the quiet hallway.
* * *
Late into the night, wearing only his boxer briefs, Shep ventured out of the bedroom, stopping at the top of the staircase. It’d only take him a couple steps to grab the door handle and slide into bed with Emma. It would only take a couple more minutes to kiss her until she went soft and warm beneath his hands. After that, he could spend long minutes deep inside her, until they both fell apart in each other’s arms.
A long-suffering sigh spilled from his lips. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts of Emma aside, then quietly made his way down the stairs. His cock throbbed. He’d have to do something about his greedy dick or he’d never sleep. Though his mouth was dry, and with his skin flushing hot, his thirst needed to be dealt with first.
The house lay silent around him when he stepped into the kitchen. All the lights were off except the row of lighting under the cupboards giving the space a warm glow. The clock on the stove read three in the morning. He’d slept maybe an hour, tops. Having Emma so close, and yet not being with her, was torture. Thoughts of her in bed, possibly naked beneath th
e sheets, or maybe wearing a nightgown with the blankets over her legs, her bare bottom showing . . . Jesus Christ! He grabbed a glass from the drying rack next to the sink and poured himself a glass of water from the faucet, then downed it.
This night was going to be long.
His cock twitched; even the fabric of his boxer briefs brushing against his hardened flesh was a constant tease. Again he filled his glass of water, and sipped it this time. The coolness sliding against his tongue was a much-needed relief.
On the fourth sip of his water, he realized he wasn’t alone. He slowly glanced over his shoulder, only to wish that he hadn’t. Emma leaned against the doorframe, wearing only cotton panties and a skin-tight white tank top. His vision narrowed on the curves of her breasts and the small, dark nipples peeking through the thin fabric.
He swallowed the water in his mouth, lifting his gaze to the slight smile on her face. “You are making this incredibly hard for me,” he told her, slightly annoyed now.
Her grin widened. “Is being hard such a bad thing?”
Being playful, was she?
Fuck, he had a hard time controlling himself without that goddamn sweet sparkle in her eyes. He downed the remainder of the water in the glass, keeping his gaze locked on her. Apparently, she’d done some thinking since he sent her off to bed. The rich desire in her eyes was an outright invitation for sex. An invitation he had no intention of refusing. He placed the glass in the sink then stalked forward, openly staring at her puckered nipples. She’d given him the invite; he’d take a look at what she was offering.
When he closed in on her, he found her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths. She nibbled her lip, a sign that no matter how brave she might be, compared to him, she was a little mouse being hunted by a lion. That slight hesitation was what stopped him from bending her over the counter and making her scream. He also couldn’t forget the doctor’s warning to watch out for odd behavior. “What exactly are you doing here, Emma?” he asked bluntly, done with this game.
“I’m not sure,” she said gently.
His tension lessened some. If she suddenly jumped him, ripping off his boxers, he knew he needed to call the doctor. She was still hesitant but questioning, rationalizing things between them in her mind, not acting strangely. “You’re not sure because you don’t know me? Or because of the accident today?”
She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “I don’t even have a bump on my head. The most I am is bruised, and most of that is my ego. This isn’t because of the accident, and you know that.”
Still, he needed to trust this was the real Emma he spoke to, not an Emma altered by a hit on the head. He moved against the island in the middle of the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then what exactly are you so unsure about?”
Her brows came together, and in that moment, Shep saw the reason for her hesitation all over her face. Emma hid nothing of what she felt when she experienced it, and the past pain she’d obviously endured washed across her expression while she explained. “You have to understand that I promised myself I would never do this again. And I made that promise no more than a month ago.”
“Do what exactly? Become interested in a man?”
She nodded. “That, and my head just isn’t right. It wouldn’t be fair to you to get involved with me like this.”
He thought it cute that she worried about him, and it said a lot that, though she’d been hurt badly, she still cared for this Jake. This was a woman who had a big heart, one wasted on an asshole. “I don’t need you deciding what is fair for me and what’s not, darlin’.” He leveled her with a hard look. “Last night at the Spurs, you practically melted into the floor when I touched you, and if you had allowed it, I would have fucked you right there in the parking lot in my truck.” He liked the way her breath hitched and eyes heated. “Do you melt the way you did for me with every man who touches you?”
“No.” She glanced at her bare feet a moment, then lifted her pretty eyes to his again. “It’s not that I don’t want you . . . but it’s confusing. I don’t want a relationship, but then there’s you . . . and this thing that I can’t even explain but can feel . . . and I’m trying to ignore you, but I haven’t slept at all, even though I’m so tired, because all I can think about is you being in the bed across from me, and me wanting to be there too.”
His cock twitched again in his boxer briefs. She noticed, her gaze flicking there, mouth parting, breath deepening. He didn’t know what this Jake was like. Obviously, a complete jackass for the way he hurt her, but Shep wasn’t that guy. He placed his hands on the island, leaving himself wide open for her. “If you want me, Emma, come and have me. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not that simple, though,” she said softly.
“Actually, yeah, it is.” At least for him. “If you want to have fun, we can have some fun. If you want me gone tonight, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to take you for dinner tomorrow, I’m good with that. There’s something here between us. I want to explore it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
She hesitated.
In that hesitation, Shep made his move, intent to get his point across.
He closed the distance, feeling the heat pouring off her body. He knew her pussy would be warm and wet, as much as he’d known last night that when she got off that stage she was drenched with silky desire. “My only hesitation here is your hesitation.” He pressed the length of his body against her soft curves, this woman who was putty in his hands. He leaned in and dragged his nose up her neck, inhaling her soft powdery scent. “I want to tie you up for real this time, and mercilessly tease you until you beg me to be inside you.” He grabbed her hips, yanking her close against his raging hard-on. “I want to fuck you. Hard.” She gasped, angling her head back, and melted in his hands when he brought his mouth to her ear. “I want you to come. Against my mouth. Against my fingers. Against my cock.” She shivered, and he grinned, becoming addicted to how she sensually responded to him. “But we have a problem, you and I.”
She slowly opened her eyes, hooded with desire. “What problem?” she whispered.
“From the way I see it, you’re full of doubt and confusion, and while there is nothing wrong with that, you need to be damn sure you want me to touch you.” He grabbed her chin, titling her gaze up to meet his. “Because, darlin’, the last thing I’ll ever be is someone’s mistake.” With everything inside of him screaming to say, he did the right thing.
He walked away.
* * *
Life was made up of a bunch of choices. Some good. Some bad. Emma only had a few times where she wasn’t quite sure of the direction she took. Now, as she wrapped her hand around the bedroom’s door handle and whisked it open, discovering Shep’s sly grin while he lay in bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the blankets resting low on his hips, she knew she’d made the right choice. It no longer mattered if she had it all figured out. “You won’t be a mistake,” she said, standing in the doorway.
There it was, all very simple.
This wasn’t about right or wrong anymore. This was about living, feeling like she wasn’t a step away from losing it altogether. With total certainty, she knew if she didn’t come into this bedroom tonight and experience this passion with Shep, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Maybe that was passion, she speculated. It’s not something you waited for, it’s something you went after, even if it didn’t always make sense.
“Show me,” was all he said.
And yet even with those few words, she understood. There, in the heat and strength of his gaze, she found her freedom. Oddly, she trusted Shep. There was no making sense out of that since she knew her heart was still tender and bleeding. She’d already hit rock bottom; she had nothing to lose anymore. All she had to gain was to finally feel alive again, instead of feeling like she was breathing without fully living.
Keeping her gaze on the lust in his, she reached for the hem of her tank top then slowly lifted it over
her head, sending the fabric to the floor. The warm air brushed across her puckered nipples, her chest rising and falling quickly. His gaze was drawn there for a moment before he brought his attention to her face again. Her hands trembled when she tucked her fingers into her panties, pulling them off then kicking them side.
She thought she should feel nervous, maybe even embarrassed. None of that came, as his potent stare raked over her with a power that stole her breath. He didn’t examine her in a quick flash, glancing over all the important parts. He memorized every detail, every curve of her body, as if he was mapping out a plan of where he would kiss his way along her flesh.
“Turn around,” he murmured.
She slowly spun and smiled at his low groan.
There was a squeak from behind her, so she glanced over her shoulder, finding him sliding out of bed, completely nude. The light spilled in from the hallway, casting a warm glow over his muscular frame. He was big. And hard. Very hard. All of him. Every single inch. From his wide shoulders, to his squared chest, to the indents of his six-pack, to that V at his waist, all the way down to an impressive cock, Shep screamed man.
When he finally reached her, he tucked a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet the coiled power in his eyes. “Now tell me.”
Again, instinctively she knew what he asked of her. “I wanted you last night at the Spurs,” she said, breathless. “I also told myself not to, somehow forcing myself to believe that I shouldn’t want this. I know why—I’m hurting, and I can only imagine you can see that too.” His eyes softened a smidgen as she went on. “I’m sick of feeling bad, of feeling pain, of feeling sad. I want to feel happy. I want to remember what it’s like to be a woman. I want to feel alive again. I want to take my power back.”
He slid the warmth of his big hand across her cheek. “Just sex. That’s the deal?”
Dirty-Talking Cowboy Page 6
