by Jillian Neal
“There she goes.” Relief perforated Luke’s tired tone. He guided the calf onto her hooves. Indie stood to keep the bottle at her mouth.
“Keep feeding her. I’m gonna fix up a stall for her. She can’t be outside for a while.”
While Indie continued to feed the adorable little Hereford, Luke loaded in several bales of hay into one of the horse stalls. He added an old blanket and declared it perfect for the unwanted calf. It still broke Indie’s heart that the sweet thing’s mama didn’t want to have anything to do with her. That wasn’t how life was supposed to work.
“I think we should name her,” Indie announced when Luke performed another quick check of the calf while she ate.
“Honey, you know that isn’t a good idea.” Sympathy softened his eyes as he gazed at her.
“I know, but I won’t be here when she gets sold off, so it’ll be okay. Please.”
That declaration dampened his gaze. “Thought you were gonna give me a chance, a real chance.”
“You just want me back for my wrenching skills.” She tried for a joke that fell flatter than a deflated tire. An irritated eye roll was his answer to her teasing. “How about Cassie? She looks like a Cassie to me. Please, Luke.” She knew he wouldn’t deny her anything. He never had.
“All right, sweetheart, fine. But you and Cassie will both be here a year from now when we’re breeding her and a year after that when we’re selling her off if I have anything to say about it.”
Another yawn overtook Luke. He blinked his eyes repeatedly. Exhaustion weighted their lids.
“I think you need a nap before we go on with your afternoon plans.”
“Tell you God’s truth, I’m exhausted and half-starved. I’ll do my best, but I may collapse on top of you when we’re finished and sleep.”
“I like the idea of you being on top of me, but why don’t I make you some lunch and you get some sleep before we do anything else.”
“Thought you didn’t want to cook for me.” Luke guided the calf into the makeshift pen and settled her in the hay.
“I don’t want to be told to cook for you,” she corrected. “I don’t mind cooking on my own terms.”
“You don’t wanna be told to do nothin’, darlin’. Too bad too, ‘cause I would sure as hell not mind watching you standing at my stove buck-ass nekkid with a spatula in your hands, or maybe wearing nothing but a little apron for me.”
Indie snorted at the very idea of such a thing ever actually occurring. The teasing grin he was sporting painted an identical smirk on her lips. “Ain’t happenin’, cowboy, but I might fix your tractor engine disaster in the buff. Depends on how long you keep putting me off. You keep playin’ me I might beat your ass with that spatula.”
Luke’s answering growl echoed off the barn walls. “You wrenching in the buff’ll do, too, and trust me, I’ll make your waiting worth it, darlin’. Have no doubt.”
When Cassie finished her next bottle, Brock ordered Luke to get some sleep. He and Hope took over the feedings for a while so Indie drove them back to Luke’s house centered on a raised hill in his section of the expansive family ranch.
When they entered, Luke headed directly for the soft leather sofa in the center of his living room, collapsed, and then settled his cowboy hat over his eyes. “Make yourself at home, sugar. Just give me like ten minutes.” His voice was pleading. Indie’s heart pricked.
“You sleep. I’ll make lunch.”
Having always gotten up before the sun to do chores, Luke possessed the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice. As soon as that hat went over his eyes, he was out. Something’s about him would never change. That realization brought a grin to her face as she quietly explored Luke’s two-story stone and siding home.
Her eyes scanned over the massive stone fireplace in the living room that dominated most of a wall. Everything else inside was wood. The paneled walls, the flooring, and kitchen cabinets were mismatched hues of polished oak that somehow all fit together.
Inhaling deeply, she allowed the scents of him and of the ranch to fill her lungs as she headed towards the kitchen. The breeze from an open window in the kitchen whispered through her hair.
She passed his bedroom on her way and noted her red panties tossed on his dresser. Part of her was disappointed. Images of him jacking off with them had intrigued her all morning. Realizing he hadn’t, she considered feeling bad for him. Clearly he really was hard up, but she’d been more than willing the night before and he’d left. She desperately tried to believe it was his loss, but currently, she was the one feeling a little lost.
In years past when she’d come to him, he’d take her like a man possessed, like he’d been just as desperate for her as she’d been for him. She didn’t know where all of his newfound stubborn patience had come from, but she intended to put an end to it. After his nap, she’d find a way to get him in bed.
Satisfied with that idea, she tried to quietly explore his kitchen until she figured out what to cook. She grinned at the ancient Maxwell House coffee tin with Dale Earnhardt’s number three Goodwrench car emblazoned across it stored in the cabinets above the stove. If she’d popped the plastic top, she knew she’d locate several thousand dollars in cash he always kept there just in case. Very few cowboys ever really trusted anyone outside their own families, especially if their job title included the words banker, lawyer, or government official. Her father had a similar coffee can in his kitchen cabinets. Only difference, his coffee can rarely had twenty bucks inside.
Thoughts of her father’s comment that he couldn’t afford to take a day off brought another round of worry to her stomach. He never had been very good at saving, something her parents used to argue about constantly. Her daddy would give away his last dollar to help his neighbor. Indie loved that about him, but it worried her.
Opening the fridge, she located all of the ingredients she’d need to make grilled cheese sandwiches, one of Luke’s favorites.
Chapter Eight
Luke roused when the scent of grilled onions permeated the air. Lifting his hat from his face, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, still exhausted. His eyes landed on Indie expertly grilling onions at his stove. The long silken fall of her hair swaying down her back made him desperate to end his self-imposed determination to take his time torturing her with making her wait for his pleasure. Damn, but if her cooking in his house contentedly wasn’t a beautiful sight he didn’t know what was.
He summoned another round of stubbornness and joined her in the kitchen. Circling his arms around her waist, he drew her back to his chest and nuzzled her neck. She swayed her hips, brushing his cock with the ample curves of her ass.
A low growl formed readily in his chest. He loosed it rapidly as she continued to taunt him.
“That wasn’t a very long nap.” The smirk on her face said she planned to drive him insane with need until he finally threw her in his bed and took her with the wild abandon she was clearly craving. Little minx thought she was winning in the battle of wills.
“Gorgeous woman is standing at my stove cooking me lunch. I intend to eat it. I may beg off for another nap later. I’m still whupped, and I’m bettin’ my girl is, too. You were up late. Let’s eat then crawl in my bed. I promise we’ll stay there all damn afternoon, and evening if you’re willin’.”
“Think I’ve already proven I’m willin’. Little offended you’d rather sleep first. We still playing your stupid ‘make Indie wait ‘cause she wore socks to bed game?”
“Who the hell said we were napping first, sugar? I’d planned on taking care of your punishment before my nap.” Okay, so maybe she was winning. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He could still draw it out after their lunch. He ordered himself to keep it under control, but damn those beautiful curves, the way she smelled, the lush softness she tried so hard to cover with her temper-driven armor — it all made him frantic to show her how much he loved her. “Jesus, Indie Jane, I want you so fuckin’ bad. You test a man’s patience something fierce.”
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She said nothing, but the smile that had at one time belonged only to him returned to her pretty face. Dammit, two weeks from the next day, it was gonna be his smile again. He was determined. She added the onions to the sandwiches she’d prepared, buttered the bread, and tossed it in the pan she’d used to grill the onions, just the way he liked it.
They ate in amicable silence. She’d made him three sandwiches. His appetite had lessened slightly since his old football days, but giving that he’d had nothing to eat since the night before, he didn’t bother to comment. He devoured the sandwiches, fortifying himself to devour her. Still irked over her comment about not playing his wife, he did the dishes.
Leaning back against the kitchen counter opposite the sink, she crossed her arms under her breasts. The slight lift of those luscious curves made his mouth water. “You about done with that, cowboy?” She gestured to the dishes.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm, my baby doll does not like to wait. Impatient little thing.” He stared her down, drying his hands on a rag. Letting his eyes run the length of her body, he licked his lips. So many things he longed to do with her. No part of her would be left wanting. Every single soft patch of her skin would know his touch, his taste, his needs. “Bed. Now,” he ordered.
A flash fire ignited in her pale green eyes. “I do so like this dominant side of Luke Camden. Bring it on, cowboy.”
With that she headed towards his bedroom. He sure as hell planned to bring it. If she’d let him, for the rest of their lives he’d drive her far more than crazy each and every night.
His boot collided with the bedroom door slamming it shut. She startled at the noise but the fire in her eyes continued to rage uncontained. “You’re all mine, Indie, baby. All mine. You’ll do as I say. You understand that?”
Her tongue darted between her lips. “Oh, hell yeah.”
A hungry grunt he couldn’t halt escaped him. “You didn’t seem to understand that last night. Let’s see if you can’t do it better this afternoon. Take them clothes off for me. Show me your gorgeous body. All of it. It’s mine. I want to see it right now.”
A hint of nerves played in her eyes as she toed off her boots.
“Someday, honey, I’m gonna finally show you how fucking beautiful you are.” Breaking from his original plans to stay fully dressed while she writhed naked in his bed, he popped the snap on his Wranglers and lowered the zipper. His raging erection was more than apparent in his briefs. “That’s what you do to me. Just thinking about you bare in my bed makes me harder than a damned railroad spike. It’s all you. You’re the only woman in the world that makes me this hard, makes me hurt with it.”
The slight tremble of her hands and the soft moan from her lips as she eased her t-shirt upwards said maybe he was getting through to her.
“Keep going, sugar. God, I need to see you.” Unable to help himself, he kept his eyes trained on the red satin bra attempting to contain her generous cleavage.
“I usually backhand guys that stare at them like that.” She tried to sound threatening, but was far too turned-on. Her voice was low and breathy, laced with need.
“Good,” Luke grunted. “They’re mine, too. Nobody else gets to stare at them, but I’ll look ‘til my fill. Get used to it. You’re so damned beautiful. Take that bra off. Right now. Show me, honey, ‘fore I lose my mind, rip it off myself, and unload my cock all over those pretty pink nipples.”
A shuddered moan accompanied the pop of the clasp on her bra. Her breasts spilled forward, anxious to escape their enclosure. Luke growled out his adamant approval. She slipped it down her arms and tossed it in the floor.
“Keep going,” he ordered.
Her jeans joined the bra and t-shirt on the floor. He edged closer to her with magnetized force he had no hope of denying. “Take your panties off for me, honey. I know you’re already wet. Show me.”
Her breaths quickened, short and shallow, swaying her breasts in a mesmerizing dance that kept him entranced by her beauty. Helpless to resist touching her, he caressed her cheek while she slipped the panties down her long legs. His fingertips tracked from her neck to her breasts making her quake.
So many questions played in her darkened eyes. He’d answer every single one of them.
“So damn pretty, Indie. God, baby, I need you every single day.” His fingers continued to explore down her abdomen, following the luscious curves of her body. She tensed as he encountered the deep auburn curls covering her mound. He dipped lower to find her drenched with arousal. A hungry growl thundered from his chest. “So wet for me. So damn perfect. Turns my girl on when I tell her what to do, doesn’t it?”
A rushed moan and a whispered, “Yes,” was her only response. Her mouth parted and her eyes closed in ecstasy as he traced back and forth along her slit. Leaning in, he devoured her lips, ravaging her like a parched man finally brought to a cool spring ripe with water. His tongue demanded her taste. Drawing her body to his, he gentled the kiss, memorizing the feeling of having her like this again. Grasping her ample backside, he indulged himself in the heavenly feel of her curves as he kneaded her flesh. Ordering himself to remain solidly in control, he stepped back, cradled her face in his hands, and gently stroked her cheekbones. Her kiss-swollen lips beckoned his mouth once more.
“Now, go lay down in my bed, relax, and spread your legs for me.”
She complied readily, making him have to hide his smirk as he settled in the armchair in the corner of his room.
“What are you doing?” she huffed once she was reclined against his pillows.
“Watching, and you don’t get to ask questions, sugar. We’re in my bedroom. You do as you’re told.”
She narrowed her eyes spitefully and considered arguing. He could read her like a book. When she thought better of it, he went on with his next commands. “Spread out more. I want to see your pussy drip for me.” With a half-huff of annoyance, she opened her legs further, giving him a front row view to her pouty, pink slit. His cock jerked, desperate to be consumed by her greedy little pussy.
“Now, show me. Show me how you bring yourself, darlin’. Touch yourself. Pretend it’s my hands and my cock doing whatever the hell you want. Make yourself nice and juicy so I can taste that sweet honey, ‘cause next time you come it’ll be on my tongue.”
“Oh my God,” she moaned. Contemplation and a hint of fear were penned in her eyes.
“Look at me, Indie,” he ordered. “Keep your eyes on mine while you touch yourself. Show me.”
With a quick lick of her lips, she hesitantly raced her hands across her breasts.
“Slow down, sugar. We ain’t got nothing but time. Pinch those pretty nipples for me. Show me exactly what you would do if I weren’t sittin’ here.”
“But you are sitting there.”
“Now.” He hadn’t meant to be quite so demanding, but he knew that’s precisely what she required. Her soul needed to feel the raw power that came from her submission. Her demons needed to be damned. He’d conquer every single one of them and silence them thoroughly. His eyes flared as she obeyed. Her fingertips spun around her nipples, drawing them to stiff peaks at the height of her breasts.
“Damn, sugar, so pretty. I can’t wait to watch you come for me.”
Indie trembled against his mattress. The low rasp of his voice spurned her on. The piercing gaze of his ice blue eyes kept her pinned her to his mattress. Never in all of her life had she ever envisioned actually masturbating in front of Luke, but his demands melted her every inhibition. The carnality she could see burning in those gorgeous eyes coupled with the obvious need tensed in every muscle of his body. She inhaled deeply, drawing in his musk from the soft, rumpled sheets surrounding her.
Letting her eyes close, she skated her fingertips down from her breasts to her thighs and tried to hone in on the raw eroticism thrumming between them. He was five feet away from her, but Luke Camden held a power over her. He always had. Physical contact wasn’t required. With one quick glance her way, her entire body resp
onded. His desire heated the blood coursing rapidly through her veins, making her desperate to be in his arms. She’d always needed him to kindle the flames into a raging fire and then his steady calm to cool its burn.
“Show me, Indie. When you’re thinking of me in your bed at night, show me how you touch yourself.” His low rumbled tone strained with wanton greed.
Unable to locate her typical stubborn refusal to do anything anyone ordered her to do, she focused on his labored breathing and let it carry her towards ecstasy. With her fingertips, she gently traced circles along her inner thighs, imagining him making the same move, hyping her anticipation as she moved closer and closer to her pussy.
A low moan sounded from him as she traced her swollen lips. Liquid need seeped from her slit. Her pussy flexed anxiously so desperate to be filled.
“Lord Almighty, you are so damn sexy. I can’t take it. You make me burn.”
She opened her eyes, curious to discover why she suddenly heard movement from the corner where he was still seated. The metal snap of his belt buckle hit the wooden chair. Luke slid his jeans and briefs down enough to reveal his massive cock, but he didn’t come to her. She kept her fingers working up and down her slit as he wrapped his own fist around himself. The murmured slap of skin on skin drew a frantic groan from Indie. He primed himself with long, slow drags up from his root, keeping his molten gaze locked on hers. “I said show me.”
Shock worked through her system. She was drenched, and he’d yet to touch her. Slick, and hot, and aching. Knowledge that he was watching her, ordering her every move, and getting off from the show sent heady euphoria whipping through soul. How had he known? Like he’d read the book of erotic fantasies that so often played out in her mind, he knew precisely what she longed to explore. Just as he’d promised the night before, he did in fact intend to push them beyond any vanilla-flavored sex parameters they’d shared over the last few years. Judging from the look of undiluted sin chiseled in his features, he intended to have her six ways from Sunday just for an appetizer.
