Prairie Heat (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #1)

by Tessa Layne

  Her head popped back as if she’d been slapped.

  “I was just trying to help,” she muttered quietly.

  “You want to help, Maddie?” He was shouting now. “Then start by feeling. Something. Anything.” He wiped the sweat beading across his forehead. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Ben.

  Goddamned voice mail.

  “Ben, you and Brodie need to bring a crowbar and a posthole digger to number 27 along the main north-south line. Put this on your list for first thing. And don’t forget a fulcrum.” He couldn’t resist.

  He stalked to the saddlebags and replaced the tools. “It’s time to leave your ivory tower darlin’, and come down to earth with the rest of us.” He pinned her with a hard look. “You’re not the only one who understands basic physics, and you’re damned well not the only one who’s ever been hurt.”

  But she might be the only one who’d ever responded by locking herself up and throwing away the key.

  Reaching down, he lifted the reins over Blaze’s head, and remounted. Spinning Blaze around, he set off for the ranch without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER 15

  Moments later, Maddie trotted up beside him.

  He risked one glance at her. Her face swirled with emotions. That was a start. He was done talking for the moment. Instead he let the rhythm of the horse settle into him, slowly replacing his angry outburst with resigned calm.

  By the time they reached the stables, he was fairly certain he could sleep in the same room with her again. By the time he’d gotten Blaze cooled down and put up, he knew he could look at her again without clenching his jaw.

  He stalked to the tack room, not bothering to ask her if she needed help. He slammed the saddle on the rack, and set about cleaning it up. He’d be damned if he’d offer her anything right now. Except a spanking. His lip curled at the thought. The vision of her bare-assed and rosy from his palm stiffened his cock instantly. Just as fast, he dismissed it. He wanted, no he needed, her to ask.

  “His name was Marcus.” Her voice was heavy and thick, as if speaking was a struggle. He kept his focus on cleaning the saddle, sensing it might be easier if he didn’t turn around.

  She sighed, and her boot scuffed the floor. “I was eighteen. He was a postdloc from Switzerland. Very glamorous. Very aloof.”

  His hand clenched around the rag, but he forced his movements to remain calm. If he went ballistic now, he’d just scare her off.

  She inhaled a ragged breath, then exhaled in a whoosh. “I… ah… fancied myself in love… H-he was my world. He was smart. Brilliant, really. And he had this way of making me feel special. He was also my research supervisor.” She rushed the last bit out.

  Bastard.

  Motherfucking bastard knew better than to take advantage of a girl that age. What the hell was Warren thinking, letting her go off to college at sixteen? Jesus. He might as well have put a target and a neon sign on her back saying ‘shoot me’.

  “We… weren’t together long. Only enough months for him to compile then steal a research project I’d been working on after hours and present it as his own.”

  He spun around, outrage on her behalf soaring through him. By God, he’d go caveman on this Marcus’s ass if they ever crossed paths.

  “And you let him get away with it?”

  Her eyes, her beautiful sapphire eyes were stricken. “I-I-I reported him to my advisor, but he’d gotten there first, and lodged a complaint against me accusing me of being a lazy intern. The project was my own and separate from the one I was assigned to help with. So it became my word against his.”

  She blinked, grimacing, and gave a tiny laugh. “The worst was when I-I barged into his office, and… and, he was screwing my lab partner. The only other woman in the program.”

  He wanted to punch his fist through a wall. Through this guy’s face. But that wasn’t an option. Especially not in a limestone barn.

  “When I asked why, he looked at me like I was an idiot, and… and he said we never loved each other. That we’d had a-an understanding. That everybody knew sex was only chemistry, and that, and that… I needed to grow up.” The last part came out in a whisper.

  His gut twisted. Hard.

  She glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “You work with this guy now?” He didn’t give a shit if she heard the anger in his voice. This guy was scum.

  She shook her head. “He’s a director at CERN now… like Fermilab but in Switzerland.”

  “Because of your research.”

  She shrugged. “Hard to say.”

  “Somebody should have been there to defend your honor, Maddie. I would have.”

  She laughed bitterly. “That’s very sweet of you, but we both know the world doesn’t work that way.”

  Truth. The question remained. How did you respond to the shit life dealt? “So did you go on a fucking spree?”

  Her cheeks pinked, and she cracked a tiny smile, shaking her head. “You would ask that.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “Umm. Negative.”

  “So…ah, what about…?”

  “The next one?” Her eyes fixated on a spot on the floor, the pink deepening to crimson.

  She took a deep slow breath and glanced up timidly. Realization dawned.

  Shit.

  There hadn’t been a next one.

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head.

  Something went hard inside him. He’d never been so pissed off at another human being. Except perhaps Jake. Oddly enough for similar reasons.

  “Why give him the satisfaction?”

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t that so much. It was just easier not to bother unless I felt close to someone…” She faltered. “I-I work really hard. You have to as a woman in this field. And I didn’t want to mix work and sex again, and I just didn’t meet other people.”

  “For ten years?” Christ, that was a lot of tension to carry. No wonder she was strung so tight.

  “After awhile, I just stopped thinking about it.”

  She was like a tree that had been struck by lightning and only grew on one side.

  “What about now?” Pressure built in his chest as he waited for her answer. It shouldn’t mean so much, but it did. The flush crept back up her neck.

  She straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye, her eyes steady and clear. “I want… I’m ready…” She swallowed crimson to her ears. “Don’t hurt me, Blake.” Her voice came out ragged and breathy.

  His gut clenched at the raw emotion on her face.

  Jesus.

  What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

  He dropped the rag and reached her in two strides, pulling her into his arms.

  “Nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. I promise. I’d never hurt you.”

  He had no business making promises like that, but he didn’t care. She was in pain and he’d say anything, anything to show her she was not alone. He cupped his hands around her cheeks, tilting her face up, covering her mouth with his.

  He started softly. Tenderly. But the emotion was too great to hold back. He crushed her to him, probing the sweet recesses of her mouth, his hand drifting down and cupping her ass, grinding her into his length, demanding she respond in kind.

  Her hands slipped up and gripped his shoulders. “Blake, I–” she panted.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

  He kissed down the column of her neck, exposing her collarbone, nipping and sucking. That fierce, possessive part of him bloomed as her body melted into his.

  He wanted to claim her.

  To right an enormous wrong.

  To show her how things could be, how things should be, between two people.

  Angling her back, he ran his tongue from the top button of her shirt to the hollow of her neck, up her throat, before taking her lips again. She opened immediately, this time her tongue joining his in time t
o the rolling of her hips.

  His cock strained at his zipper. That would have to wait. Right now was about her. Continuing to kiss her, he unbuttoned her shirt, bringing his hands to the gloriously smooth skin underneath.

  God. She was so perfect, so smooth, so strong. How could anyone throw her away like garbage? He growled in his throat as he deepened their kiss. Right now, in this moment, he would make her forget everything. Including her own name.

  Sweeping his hands up the silky expanse of her back, he quickly unsnapped her bra, slowly moving underneath to explore the newly exposed skin.

  He flicked this thumbs across her nipples, hardening them into tiny, perfect buds. She groaned into his mouth and clutched harder at his shoulders.

  “You’re so perfect. So beautiful.” He muttered as he tore his lips from her mouth to explore the hollow under her ear with his tongue. He pushed the lace out of the way and tilted her back so he could bring a bud to his mouth.

  Her breath came in short gasps as he flicked his tongue back and forth across the hardened peak, finally sucking it in and rolling his tongue around it. She fisted a hand through his hair as he moved to do the same with the other. Goosebumps raised across her torso.

  “Oh, Blake…ah…” she sighed.

  “Let go, darlin’. Let it all go,” he breathed across her collarbones.

  He should take more time. She deserved better than a tack room tryst. But this would at least take off the edge. They could get to the main show a bit later.

  He ducked his finger inside her waistband, running it against her skin to the button of corduroys. “You’re wearing panties.” He grinned.

  “I… ah… wear them most days,” she rushed out. “Every day, really. Except two.”

  “Make it more,” he commanded. “You drive me crazy when you leave your panties off.” He pulled her hips to his, grinding his straining cock against her. This fucking-not-fucking was exquisite torture.

  His thumb flicked open the button and unzipped her pants. He glanced at her and met her eyes, glazed and hot, staring back at him. She licked her lips in anticipation.

  “You want me to touch you, Maddie? Make you come?”

  The pink on her cheeks deepened at his words. She swallowed. “Yessss,” she hissed quietly.

  Savoring her consent, her satiny soft skin, he slid his fingers under the lace of her skimpy drawers. His knees practically buckled at the first touch of silky wetness he knew he’d encounter.

  “God, you are so fucking hot.” He plundered her mouth, moving his tongue in time with his finger. Slowly pulling her creamy liquid from entrance to tip, bringing his finger to rest on her nub. Her hips bucked wildly and she gasped as he slowly circled her clit. “You like that, hon? Tell me you like it.”

  She groaned in answer, swirling her hips on his finger. He slipped a finger inside. So wet and tight. Goddamn, if his balls didn’t explode it would be a miracle. Slowly he began to pump her channel, resting his palm against her clit, letting her creamy essence flow across his hand.

  “That’s it, baby. Just ride it out.” He flicked his finger inside her, searching for the spot that would send her through the roof.

  She was glorious like this, all swollen and flushed, with her hair wild from the ride. Nipples tight and pink from his tongue. Widening his stance so he could balance against her bucking, he pulled her close, covering her mouth, pulling her sweet lip between his teeth. Her breath came in quick pants, punctuated by staccato cries as her movements increased in intensity.

  Suddenly, her eyes sprung wide open and she grabbed his face, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. She kissed him, sucking his tongue into her as she groaned loudly into his mouth. Her walls clenched, rippling against his fingers, as she rode him through the orgasm, her body shuddering uncontrollably.

  The ache in his balls made his head hurt, but he kept his focus on her, helping her to squeeze every ounce of pleasure from the moment. He rained kisses across her face, murmuring endearments as she slowly came back to earth.

  With regret, he removed his hand. He could keep his hand inside her, pleasuring her, all day.

  “Better?” He nuzzled her ear.

  “Um. Yeah… Yeah.”

  Her response shot through his veins like ice.

  He leaned back, studying her. Had she been faking?

  She gave him a tentative smile. “I, ah, liked that.”

  “You liked it.” She damn well better have liked it. She seemed like she had.

  “Well it was definitely better than masturbating…”

  Hurt flamed to life in his chest as he stared at her in disbelief.

  “You haven’t been with a man in ten years and this is your best response… It’s better than masturbating?”

  “It’s my honest response.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I’m trying.” Her eyes looked panicked.

  “Tell me you felt something.”

  Jesus, she had to have let herself feel something?

  Her eyes widened with shame and sadness. “Yes. No. I don’t know… Oh God, Blake. I’m so sorry… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” She yanked up her pants, zipping them and rebuttoning her shirt. “I think I’m broken and I can’t be fixed. This… us… I don’t know what you were thinking.” She gasped, a tiny sob hitching in her throat. “I’m sorry.” She spun and fled, leaving him standing in the middle of the floor.

  What the fuck had just happened?

  He stalked to the threshold, but she’d already slipped out the door. Hurt and rage rushed through him like a tornado, spotting his vision. He kicked the door as hard as he could, forgetting momentarily about the large iron doorstopper that permanently held the door in place.

  “Gah.” Blinding pain seared up his foot, sharpening his vision. “MOTHERFUCKER.” He kicked the door again, this time avoiding the doorstop. The second kick hurt as much as the first, but he didn’t care. Let it hurt. It hurt less than his heart right now.

  Only one other time in his thirty-two years had he been this angry. That incident was permanently etched in his brain. He’d made too many mistakes in life because of that anger. He wasn’t going to let that happen this time. He clenched and unclenched his fist, letting the adrenaline run its course and fade away.

  When his heart rate finally settled, he grabbed a brush and limped over to Blaze. No broken bones, but it hurt like hell. Brushing Blaze seemed to calm him like nothing else. A good lay would calm him, but that wasn’t anywhere in his future. Not for a while at least.

  He ran the brush down his neck, tuning into the rhythm of his breathing, letting the familiar, comforting scent calm him. Letting his mind wander as the habit, long ingrained in his muscle memory took over.

  Maddie was a conundrum. A paradox. Unbroke filly didn’t begin to describe her. Abused? Abandoned? Shit. He should talk to Ben. Ben would know what to do. He had a psychic way of coming up with perfect solutions every time.

  He shut his eyes, envisioning her fearless and strong. He knew in his marrow that woman was locked away inside her.

  Blaze nickered, as if he sensed someone. Ben? He had the uncanny ability to show up when he was most needed.

  He scanned the door, startled from his thoughts. A bright haired woman stood silhouetted in the entrance holding a chubby dark haired child. He blinked, hard, shaking his head. Hell and damnation. He hadn’t just seen that. There was nothing there. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, buzzing his ears. He shook his head, returning his focus to Blaze’s withers. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was in the barn with him. A shiver passed down his spine.

  Shit. Ben was the one with their great-whatever-granny’s sixth sense. Not him. Despair and hope warred within him. That vision had as much chance of coming to pass as lightning striking him in a tornado shelter. But still, hope ended up on top.

  CHAPTER 16

  Maddie lay curled up in bed by the time Blake came in. As soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs, her heart started pounding.
The door opened quietly and he paused at the threshold. The single light on the bedside cast the room in a soft glow, but not enough that she could read his eyes, even with her glasses on.

  He stepped into the room and shut the door, his eyes not leaving hers. His mouth remained in a hard line, but he didn’t speak. His presence did nothing to calm the agitation that had stayed with her since she’d fled the barn. She was a hot mess. She knew it. But how could she stop the rollercoaster of emotions? She was just hanging on for dear life.

  He crossed in front of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. He moved like a panther, keeping her in his sight, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. She held her breath as he threw his shirt into the laundry basket. She’d seen him shirtless every night for nearly a week now, and her breath still caught at the way his taut muscles rippled in the lamplight.

  Every night for nearly a week he’d proceeded to brush his teeth, then flop to the floor with nothing but a blanket. The thought of him sleeping there, at her feet, after what they’d shared, ate at her.

  He glanced at her periodically as he went about the nighttime routine she’d memorized her first night with him. First, he’d throw his shirt in the laundry, then it was teeth and washcloth. Lastly, his boots, and then his jeans. Always with a glance at her, daring her to comment. So far, she hadn’t.

  And tonight… what could she say after her behavior in the barn? Hell yes, his hands had been better than her own. But she’d been so discombobulated it had come out all wrong. Yet another sign she wasn’t remotely relationship material.

  Her tongue lay heavy in her mouth. She screwed up her courage to say something as he left the bathroom.

  “Blake…” The buzzing in her ears was so great she couldn’t hear her own voice.

  His eyes burned into her. Scorching her soul. “I-I’m so sorry. About everything. I-I liked it a lot better than masturbating.” Her chest burned with the admission, as she felt the flush creep up her neck to her cheeks.

  She wiped her hand across her eyes. “You really don’t want to marry me. I’m a hot mess… I’d make you crazy.”