by Kim Redford
“Hold that thought.” She raised her head and grinned at him. “We’re unwrapping presents, and there’ll be no rush.”
He groaned again, wondering how long he was going to be able to resist pulling her into his arms and burying himself deep inside her.
“Let’s get back to my gift.” She lifted his leg, tugged on his boot, then pulled harder till she slipped it off his foot. She quickly removed his sock before she did the same to his other foot. She set his boots and socks aside, and then trailed fingertips up the top of his feet to his ankles.
“That tickles.” He quickly jerked back his feet, biting his lower lip so as to control his need to push her over backward and be done with the torment she was inflicting on him. If he’d thought she was sensual before, now he knew there was a damn good reason he’d waited for her—and only her.
She simply chuckled at his response, giving him a coy look from under her long eyelashes.
“How about I take a better gander at that vintage underwear under your fire-rescue sweats?”
“Think it’s time to unwrap me?”
“It’s way past time.” He rose up on his knees, grasped the bottom of her sweater, and pulled it up and over her head. He quickly tossed it on top of his shirt, sat back down, and let his eyes feast on the blue satin that was all that kept him from seeing what he really wanted to see—and had imagined—for months of long nights in his lonely cabin.
“I think you’re in a rush.”
“Now why would you think that?” He tackled her around the waist, tipping her over backward as he took hold of her waistband and tugged downward, quickly revealing hips, legs, and finally feet. One last tug, and he freed her pants. He tossed them across the room—far enough that she wouldn’t be tempted to put them back on any time soon. And then he feasted on the banquet of her nearly nude image.
She gave him a hesitant smile that made her appear naughty and nice at the same time.
“You’re so beautiful.” He realized his voice held awe as if he was seeing a work of art or the birth of a calf or a goddess rising up from the Earth.
“I’m not a spring chicken anymore.” She rubbed her hands up and down her legs as if to reassure or to warm herself.
“I’m not either.” He reached out and clasped her hands to still them as he reassured her. “Age works for us both.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “As in Slade’s fine muscadine wine?”
“Better than that.”
“Why don’t we prove it?” She pushed his hands aside and tugged on the hems of his jeans. “Got anything on under your Wranglers?”
He chuckled at her words, knowing she was toying with him and enjoying the hell out of it. “Why don’t you unwrap me and find out?” He spread his legs so she’d have to come in between them to reach his belt buckle. He leaned back on his elbows to give her complete access to him.
She tossed him a narrow-eyed look that let him know she knew exactly what he was doing in that position, and then she crawled up to him and wrapped her fingertips around the edge of his tooled-leather belt.
With that small touch near the heart of his desire, he was hit with a need so great, it almost took his breath away. Yet he’d agreed to this unwrapping game, and he wouldn’t back out now. He simply had to call on all his willpower to stay still and not grab her, toss her to the quilt, and finally be done with it.
When she ran the pads of her thumbs over the engraved front of his rodeo buckle, he was reminded of his favorite win against all odds ten years back. That was a fleeting thing. With Sydney, he realized that he wanted their win to last a lifetime.
She glanced at his face, gave a mischievous smile, and then looked down again. She unhooked his big buckle, undid the button of his jeans, and stopped as if considering what to do next.
He waited impatiently, wondering if he was going to have to help her out. Maybe she’d forgotten how to get a man out of his jeans. Pretty quick, he was going to be in uncomfortable territory—as if he hadn’t already been there for months.
Still, she gave him no relief. She lingered a little longer before she leaned in close and kissed his lips—nibbling, licking, sucking—while she slowly swept her hand lower and lower till she clasped the hard bulge in his Wranglers.
He groaned aloud as he instinctively pushed up with his hips and against her hand, feeling her clasp and stroke till he was completely at her mercy. “You’d better stop,” he whispered hoarsely against her mouth, “or this won’t take long.”
She lightly bit his lower lip in reply, then quickly unzipped his Wranglers, jerked them down, pulled them off his feet, and tossed them aside. She sat back on her heels and perused him—slowly but surely—from head to toe. “You’re beautiful, too.”
“I can’t hold a candle to you.” He was glad he’d decided to wear navy briefs that morning. If not, he wouldn’t have stood a chance of getting through their agonizingly long unwrap.
She reached for the shoulder straps of her blue bra, cocking her head to one side. “Do you want me to go next, or do you want—”
“I want to watch.” Now he wished he could see her in bright sunlight instead of shadowy firelight. She almost didn’t appear real in the glow of the flickering flames, because he’d imagined this moment so often in his mind. Now that it was finally here, reality put imagination to shame.
She slowly stripped for him, lowering one bra strap then the other till she finally unclasped the back and let that little bit of soft fabric fall away.
He took a gulp of air to remind himself to breathe, because she took his breath away. She was all peaches and cream with tiny freckles scattered like glitter across her full breasts tipped with rosy pink. Maybe he was getting poetic about her, but she still ranked right up there with a tangerine-tinted sunrise, a silver-gray mare, a yellow rose covered in morning dew—all of nature that spoke volumes to a cowboy’s heart of hearts.
And then she went further, putting her fingertips under the waistband of her panties and slipping them slowly, tantalizingly down her long legs to leave her completed unwrapped and bathed in a rosy glow.
He swallowed over the lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected to be so affected by her. He was suddenly reminded of the time long ago when guys woke up one day to the fact that the gals in their school halls suddenly had fascinating curves. They’d become goddesses overnight, and how do you get the nerve to approach a goddess?
“Your turn,” she said in a husky voice as she leaned toward him with a seductive smile.
Maybe a cowboy simply had to give a goddess the best night of her life. He went with that thought. He tossed her a naughty grin as he jerked down his briefs and threw them away.
“Oh my,” Sydney said, staring at him with awe in her expression. “It’s been a long time. I’m not sure if—”
“We’ll make it work.” He didn’t want any more words between them. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close, so that the heat of their bodies touched, merged, ignited.
And then he was kissing her and sliding his hands all over her—unable to get enough fast enough—just as she did the same to him. They made the blaze in the fireplace feel cool in comparison to their combined combustion.
He leaned her back over his arm and trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts where he teased and tormented her sensitive flesh till he couldn’t resist the lure of moving lower. He toyed with her belly button with the tip of his tongue while she gripped his shoulders and moaned at his touch. He delved lower still, cupping her mound with his hand, feeling her heat and moisture. He used his fingers to explore, thrusting inside with a sensual rhythm until she writhed up against him, shuddering as she succumbed to ecstasy.
He couldn’t wait any longer, not when she raised her head to look at him with such passion and a softness that might be love, or at the very least tenderness. He felt all of that for her, and so much more.
&nb
sp; She held out her arms, lay back against the quilt, raised her knees, and spread her legs for him. He wanted to give back to her as much as she was giving him. As he knelt over her—so close to bliss—he remembered protection. He didn’t have any with him. He groaned and sat back on his heels.
“What is it?”
“I hate to bring it up now, but I just realized that I don’t have any condoms.”
She struggled up, half sitting and leaning on one elbow. “I didn’t think—”
“It’s okay.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Tonight we can do other things.”
“No. I want this now.” She glanced toward her bedroom, frowning in thought. “If you’ll look in the back of my nightstand’s top drawer, there might be a package left over from—before.”
He hated that idea. He’d been trying to get them away from the specter of her husband all night long.
“Dune,” she said, grasping his hand and squeezing it, “we’re moving forward with our lives.”
“Yes, we are, but—”
“You know they loved us. They’d want us to be happy again and share all the good things in life.”
“True.” Now both specters of their past had risen to stand between them.
“Please check my nightstand. It’s okay either way.”
“No, it’s not.” He made a decision. One way or another, this night belonged to them. “I’ll look, but if I come up empty, I’ll drive into town.” He gave her a quick kiss and got to his feet. “It’s Christmastime, and we’re not going to do without, not after all this unwrapping.”
She nodded as her eyes lit up like a vibrant green prairie after a spring rainstorm. “That’s my cowboy.”
He stalked into the bedroom and up to the nightstand. He grabbed the knob, jerked hard, and the drawer came completely out, causing everything inside to tumble to the rug. Sometimes he didn’t know his own strength. He thrust the empty drawer back into the nightstand and looked down at the scattered contents. He passed over cough drops and antacids before he saw the one thing he hadn’t actually expected to be there. He grabbed the single condom, walked back into the living room, and held it out to show her.
“You triumphed!” She grinned up at him as she patted the quilt for him to join her.
He knelt beside her, feeling their blaze rekindle as if nothing had interrupted the flow of their passion. He tore open the package, slipped on the condom, and then hesitated between her legs.
“Please, Dune. I need you. I want you.” She clasped him in her arms and drew him to her body. “I’m on fire.”
When he thrust into her, she moaned softly in his ear and pulled him even tighter. She felt hot as a raging wildfire. For once, he didn’t want to put out a fire. He wanted to stoke this one higher—and burn right along with it as he moved within her, pushing faster and harder as their blaze burned hotter and brighter.
She cried out as she dug her nails into his back and wrapped her legs around his waist so he could plunge deeper into her molten core. He’d never felt this way before, as if their flames were cleansing their sad past and melding their bright future together as one. When they reached a fever pitch of passion, they spiraled higher and higher until they came apart in each other’s arms.
“Stay here,” she said on a ragged breath. “Don’t leave me.”
He put his weight on one arm and gently pushed sweat-damp hair back from her face with his free hand. “If you want, I’ll stay here all night long.”
She nodded in agreement as she gazed up at him with hazel eyes that sparkled in the firelight. “I’m so happy.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her rosy lips, realizing that he no longer felt the icy grip of winter deep inside. She’d driven it out with her fiery heat of summer.
And she’d made him happy, too.
Chapter 21
Sydney drove a little too fast onto the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue Station parking lot, still feeling giddy a day after Dune had spent the night—a long night filled with erotic pleasures.
She slipped Celeste into a space under a tree, as if it were summertime when everybody searched for shade so their vehicles didn’t turn into ovens from the sun’s intense heat, or maybe she just still felt the heat of Dune’s touch.
She checked the parking lot for vehicles. Hedy’s van was already there, as well as Kent’s truck. She was really glad to see Kent in place, since he was their photographer. She cut Celeste’s engine and sat still a moment, gathering her thoughts. She hoped this time everything would go off without a hitch, but after so many false starts, she simply couldn’t be sure of success until she saw cowboy firefighter photographs on Kent’s camera.
Storm was safely with Slade, so she knew her daughter was in good hands. She’d put everything on hold yesterday while Dune caught up at Cougar Ranch, so she could spend quality time with her daughter. They’d sat in front of the fireplace together, drinking hot chocolate and catching up. That’d also given her feet a chance to heal even as her mind had whirled with possibilities, particularly because of all Dune had awakened in her. She knew that she and Dune had both loved and lost, but she believed they could love again.
For now, romance shouldn’t be foremost in her mind. She had cowboys to get in line. She opened her door and stepped out, wearing her vintage style with special consideration for her feet. As luck would have it, she had a pair of retro red moccasins with beaded trim across the toes that were soft, comfortable, and appropriate. She’d paired them with crimson cigarette pants that had a fitted waist. She’d completed the outfit with a forest-green button-down long-sleeved cardigan that sported red-beaded Christmas ornaments.
Dune’s special attention and a little rest seemed to have pretty well healed her feet, because she hardly felt any pain at all. He must have that experienced EMT touch, or maybe she was still so happy from their night together that everything felt better. In any case, she wasn’t planning any wild cowgirl stunts to cause a setback, because she was grateful for the current relief. It also meant she’d probably be able to wear her vintage shoes for upcoming events.
All in all, she felt good about the day and her future. She glanced up at the clear blue sky overhead with a few puffy white clouds lazing about as if they had nothing better to do than look pretty for the folks restricted to the ground below. And pretty was plenty good enough, because they didn’t need rain. So far, the winter was turning out to be fairly normal, meaning not too hot, not too cold, not too wet, and not too dry. If the weather held steady, they looked to have a perfect day for their photo shoot.
Kent had never taken shots like these before, but he’d been playing around with cameras since high school. Hedy had even framed some of his extraordinary firefighting photos and hung them in the station. They were lucky he was good at capturing events and images, so they didn’t have to find a professional willing to donate services.
She made a quick survey of the parking lot again, but she didn’t see Dune’s truck. Where was he? She’d expected him to be right on time, if not early. Maybe he was still taking care of ranch chores. She hated to admit it, but she already missed him, since life no longer seemed right without him.
When her phone vibrated in her pocket, she quickly grabbed it, thinking it’d be Dune calling to let her know when he’d get there.
“Hey, Sis,” Slade said with a chuckle in his voice, as if he was the cat who’d eaten the cream.
“Hey back at you.” She hoped he wasn’t calling with bad news.
He laughed out loud in his big, booming voice. “You sound a little relaxed and happy today.”
“I’m at the station, ready to rock and roll.”
“Didn’t you already rock and roll the other night?”
“Don’t even go there.”
“My lips are sealed. I never saw anybody leave your place about dawn.” He chuckled again.
She finally joined his laughter, because her happiness felt too good to keep inside. “Okay. I like him.”
“I do, too. And he’s been bird-dogging you a long time. I like that kind of commitment.”
“I don’t know if there’s any commitment, but we’ll be working together for a bit.”
“Good enough.” He hesitated a moment. “Listen, I know you’ll be busy all day. I’ll keep Storm with me till I need to get down there and strut my stuff.”
“Oh, cowboy, you’ve got plenty to strut,” she said, teasing him.
“Maybe some lovelorn lady will see my photo and bird-dog me till I give up my wild and wanton ways for her.”
“As if.” She laughed, continuing her tease, because they both knew he was about as committed to his freedom and independence as they got in Wildcat Bluff County.
“You never know,” he said in a thoughtful voice. “Look at Trey and Kent. They were the two wildest cowboy firefighters around here.”
“You ought to add yourself to that list.”
“That ornery bull put a crimp in my style.” He gave a big, dramatic sigh for effect that ended on a deep chuckle. “Now Trey’s been roped by Misty, and Kent’s all starry-eyed over Lauren. It’s hard to believe, if you hadn’t met the gals in question, but those guys are looking to get leg-shackled for life.”
“Guess you’re going to have to carry the bachelor banner all by yourself from now on.”
“You’re not planning to desert me, are you? Hedy’s even talking about going over to see Bert’s bluebird collection. That banner might get kind of heavy all on its lonesome.”
“Never fear. You’re up to carrying on alone.”
“Yeah, sure, but—”
“No doubt, you’re up to it.” She saw the bay door open in the station, so she knew it was time to focus on the photo shoot. “All right, Mr. DeMille, you’re ready for your close-up,” she said, unable to resist a little paraphrasing from a famous movie.
“Norma Desmond. Sunset Boulevard. 1950,” Slade said. “If you’re comparing my upcoming stint before the camera to classic film noir, you’ll be sadly disappointed.”
