Rugged Texas Cowboy

by Lora Leigh

  “Catarina?” He touched her.

  Melina stilled, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and escape the merciless perception in his gaze. She felt trapped by his look, drawn into it, captivated by the dark clouds of concern that shifted within as his hand settled on her hip.

  She swallowed tightly.

  “I have to finish the kitchen…”

  She was not giving in to him. Not again. She couldn’t let herself forget who he thought she was. She couldn’t let herself forget who she was. Despite her desire for him, despite the hunger that sped through every cell in her body, she couldn’t forget what they had both suffered at her sister’s hands.

  “Fuck the kitchen, Catarina.” A frown snapped between his brows as he turned her to face him, both hands gripping her hips now, holding her so close that a breath of air would have had trouble passing between his body and hers. “I want answers. Do you think I didn’t see your terror? That I wouldn’t suspect what’s behind it? What happened?”

  Melina breathed out with a short angry burst of air.

  “I don’t owe you answers, Luc. You’ve kidnapped me. Refused to listen to reason once you were informed of the mistake you made. And you push and prod at me every chance you get to force admissions that are no more than lies to appease you. You have no right to be concerned about anything.”

  Melina pushed away from him, stalking across the kitchen to replace his chair beneath the table and straighten the small, cloth place mats. The old oak table gleamed with its fresh coat of wax, a testament to her hard work that day.

  “Catarina, freedom comes with a price.” His voice was gentle, but the meaning was clear. “You can’t change if you don’t learn from your mistakes.”

  Amazement filled her. How gentle and concerned he sounded. It was almost enough to make her sick.

  “God, can you get any more pompous.” She rounded on him furiously. “Listen to yourself, Luc. I’ve told you at every opportunity what a fool you’re making of yourself here, and still you aren’t listening. You know what?” She propped her hands on her hips, tired of the arguments, sick of dealing with his determination to believe she was Maria. “You just believe what you want to. Everyone else has. You want to believe I’m Maria? Knock yourself out, asshole, but don’t expect me to cooperate. I grew sick of wearing my sister’s shoes quite a while ago. I won’t let you force me back into them.”

  The situation would have been laughable if it weren’t for the fact that she was aware she was losing her heart to the knucklehead.

  “This isn’t about your refusal to admit who you are,” he retorted, his voice harsh, dark. “I don’t give a damn who you want to pretend to be. Dammit, Catarina, have you considered the fact that the drugs could just be an escape from whatever happened? If you admit you’re frightened, wouldn’t it be easier to accept you have a problem? Now, I want to know why the hell you looked at me like I was within an inch of raping you last night, when you should have known damned good and well that’s not a danger you face. If I don’t know the problem, then I can’t help you fix it.”

  Some men were just too damned stubborn for their own good.

  “Oh, you know the problem,” she snapped. “You just won’t admit it. Dammit, Luc, when are you going to admit that maybe, just maybe, I’m not Maria?”

  “Catarina, do you think I didn’t make certain before taking you?” he growled in frustration.

  “Evidently you didn’t.” She shrugged, lifting her brow mockingly. “Listen to you, you don’t even call me Maria. You call me Catarina. Why, Luc? If you’re so insistent you know you’re right, why not call me Maria?”

  He grimaced, male irritation filling his gaze as he stared back at her with a determined glint in his eyes.

  “You’re deliberately trying to change the subject,” he said darkly. “You’re good at that, Cat, I have to commend you. But I won’t let it continue. Why were you so frightened of me last night? You knew I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, did I?” She arched her brow with mocking inquiry. “And how am I supposed to know this, Luc? You threaten things when you don’t get your way. You threatened Mason’s safety before I admitted to who you thought I was. You made me lie to you.” It still infuriated her. “But I let it go.” She threw her arms wide to indicate her former surrender. “I wasn’t about to strip naked for you so you could tie me down and do whatever the hell you wanted with me.”

  He stared at her. He didn’t argue with her, didn’t answer her accusations. He merely tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and watched her for long, nerve-racking minutes. She could see a storm brewing in his eyes. Melina stilled. He looked dominant, forceful; he looked like a man unwilling to accept the answer she had given him.

  She wasn’t afraid of him. She was wary of the threat he represented to her heart, but last night, as darkness closed around them, she had admitted, to herself at least, that Luc would never harm her. He might infuriate her. He might drive her insane with his complete confidence in what he thought he was doing, especially when he was wrong.

  But he would never force himself on her.

  “Who raped you?” He finally asked the question she had been dreading.

  God, why did this man, of all men, have to be the one her heart had set itself on? If it had just been lust, maybe it would have been easier to handle. But the moment she met him, despite his fury, she had been drawn to him. In the months after that, all she learned about him had only increased her fascination with him. Now, spending the days with him, seeing his quiet humor, and dealing with his stubbornness was turning her into a fool. A fool because she could feel her emotions peaking, edging toward him, yearning for him.

  “Because I’m not ready to spread my thighs and invite you in, then I’ve been raped?” She crossed her arms over her chest, praying now for an intervention. Any kind of intervention would be nice.

  He advanced on her. There was no way to retreat. The table behind her came against her rear as Luc pressed against her front. This time when his hands gripped her hips, she knew there would be no escape from him.

  “Catarina.” His head lowered, his gaze dark, deliberate, as his lips stopped within a breath of hers. “Tell me why I care,” he whispered, staring at her somberly, his voice filled with his own confusion, his own need for answers. “Tell me why the thought of your terror last night has driven me insane to find an explanation for it. And tell me why in the hell all I can think about is how to ease those fears long enough to get you beneath me and show you I would never hurt you.”

  Lust slammed into her womb. Melina’s eyes widened at the hard, convulsive shudder of hunger that rippled through it. She swallowed tightly, fighting for breath.

  Fear was the last thing on her mind. All she could think about now was the sheer, unbridled hunger glittering in his eyes and the liquid heat pooling in her vagina.

  And he knew it. He knew what he did to her. Knew how damned hot he could make her.

  “You’re imagining things.” She cleared her throat nervously, trying to push away from him, desperate to escape the building desire.

  “I watched you wax this damned table,” he whispered, his lips glancing hers, freezing her in place. “Bent over, that tight little ass bouncing around, and all I could think about was stretching you across it…”

  He lifted her. Melina gasped, gripping his hands as he set her on the table and quickly moved between her thighs.

  “Luc.” She meant for the word to come out as a protest, not the plea it seemed to be.

  “I wanted to make a meal out of you on this damned table,” he growled, baring his teeth in a tight grimace. “And all I could think of was the fear in your eyes last night and how much I hated knowing you were frightened of me. That, and cursing myself for letting my own lust interfere in what should be a punishment rather than a vacation for you.” His voice deepened in self-disgust and bemusement.

  “Yeah, us naughty girls definitely shouldn’t have any fun.” She meant
it to come out with a wealth of sarcasm, not the sultry tone it was wrapped in.

  She couldn’t forget the episode in the laundry room. Couldn’t get it out of her mind and couldn’t make her body accept that this man was the wrong man for her heart. Her hormones just didn’t give a damn. This was the one they wanted.

  His eyelids lowered, giving him a drowsy, sensually dangerous appearance as his hands tightened on her hips.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he whispered.

  Tempt him? What the hell did he think he was doing to her? He was killing her.

  There was no fear of him, which left only the need. She wondered if she would be safer being frightened of him. Because she was just confident enough of her safety, and his desire for her, that her own need to tempt him in return surged ahead of any caution she may have displayed.

  “Hm. Admit who I am, Luc, and I might help you with that,” she murmured, almost shocked at the impish impulse to torment him now. “Come on, big boy, tell me what I want to hear.”

  His eyes flared, his cheeks flushing as his breathing began to match hers.

  “You’re playing a very dangerous game, sweetheart.” The rough warning only made her braver.

  For a moment, she wondered at her own daring. Never would she have attempted to spar with another man in this manner, especially not in the past two years. But this was Luc. She had dreamed about him for years, lusted for him, ached for him.

  She licked her lips slowly, staring back at him sensually.

  “Who am I, Luc?” she asked him, her thighs softening against his hips as she fought a whimper of longing. His jean-covered cock settled tighter against her pussy, a hard, thick wedge of heat that made her clit swell in need and her vagina ache in emptiness.

  His eyes narrowed. The cloudy gray was nearly black now, his expression slack and filled with hunger as he stared at her moist lips.

  “A minx,” he growled, though a smile edged his lips. “One who’s going to end up spanked if she isn’t careful.”

  “Hmm. Hurt me so good.” She licked her lips, pushing her luck and knowing it.

  But damned if he didn’t look hot as hell. He was staring at her as though he could consume her at any minute. Lust and perhaps even a shade of confusion filled his expression.

  “You like pushing your luck, don’t you?” he asked her softly as he moved away from her.

  Nothing could dispel the heat that wrapped around her, though, as he watched her.

  She could feel it licking over her flesh, stoking the fires in her pussy and leaving her almost weak with arousal. She wanted to touch him more than he could ever know. But she would be damned if she would let him kidnap her and break her heart.

  “Actually,” she stated a bit regretfully, “pushing my luck has been my choice, Luc. At least, until now.”

  Flashing him a saucy smile she moved quickly away from him, aware she was only delaying the inevitable. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer against the sensual promise he represented. She only hoped that when the time came, he didn’t whisper Maria’s name. That would be one insult she didn’t think she could bear.

  *

  Luc couldn’t push aside his certainty that Catarina’s fear had somehow been rooted in sexual violence. Though her good humor restored itself quickly, he could glimpse the shadows in her eyes, the lie spilling from her lips. He knew she was evading him.

  Going to bed with her was hell, though. Dressed in another of his shirts that night, she pulled the blankets to her chin and went quickly to sleep. Luc was left to stare into the darkness, aroused and confused by the woman he was sharing his bed with. He was convinced by now that she wasn’t taking drugs. Withdrawal was a son of a bitch and impossible to hide. Catarina wasn’t in withdrawal. And she sure as hell wasn’t taking anything.

  He didn’t like being confused. And he sure as hell didn’t understand the strange emotions that were beginning to fill him. He wanted to believe she wasn’t Maria. He found himself daily attempting to come up with reasons why Joe might have lied to him. He was attempting to fool himself, and it wasn’t sitting well with him.

  Confirming his suspicions would have to wait until he could talk to the other man, though. Each time Luc had called him in the past few days he had been unavailable, which only roused Luc’s suspicions that much more.

  He sighed tiredly, thumped his pillow, and closed his eyes. Sleep would have to come soon; if not, he would drive himself insane trying to make sense of it all. But one thing was for certain: This was not the Maria he had expected. If she was Maria.

  FIFTEEN

  Melina woke in the least likely position. She had grown used to waking up draped across Luc’s chest, but never like this.

  One of her legs had crossed over his, her knee bent, resting uncomfortably close to the center of his thighs. His leg was pressed firmly to the mound of her pussy and as she woke, she realized in mortification that she had been slowly rubbing herself against him.

  How did she get herself out of this one? Better yet, how had she managed to get herself into it?

  She tried to keep her breathing slow and steady, to ignore the heat building in the depths of her cunt. She had never felt so moist, so on fire there. Her clit was sensitized, swollen, and when Luc shifted against her she caught her breath at the sudden pleasure that whipped through it.

  His hand tightened in her hair, the fingers of the other smoothing against the bare flesh of her side where it had burrowed beneath her shirt. The pads of his fingers were callused and warm; the feel of them pressing lightly against her skin had her fighting to control the shiver that raced up her spine.

  She could feel excitement sizzling over her flesh, pleasure and need mixing in her bloodstream until she could barely breathe for it. One of her hands lay flat against his hard abdomen only inches from where the bulbous head of his cock had risen past the soft elastic of his briefs. A small, pearly drop of pre-cum glistened on the tip of it as it throbbed erotically.

  Melina knew the minute he became aware of their positions. His stomach tensed; his heart began to race furiously beneath her ear. She could feel the sexual tension heating his big body now and the careful control he used as his hand flattened against her hip.

  “Better move,” he whispered with drowsy amusement. “I’m about two seconds from doing something stupid.”

  Melina lay still. How long had she fantasized about him like this? His arms wrapped around her, his hunger heating the air. It hadn’t made sense, even before she met him, and it made less sense now. But she couldn’t deny the incredible pleasure or the desire that sang through her blood at his touch.

  His fingers moved, playing lightly with the band of her lacy, French-cut panties as she stared at the dark head of his cock in fascination. The feel of it against her lips that first day had been a temptation that only her fury had allowed her to deny. He had no idea how much she wanted to open her lips and take him inside her mouth. Taste the thick moisture that had gleamed on the tip, and lick the rounded head slowly.

  She moistened her lips in hunger.

  “Catarina,” he warned her tightly as her fingers flexed against his hard abdomen. “This is a dangerous game, baby.”

  His voice was tense, his big body almost vibrating beneath her.

  Melina turned her head a fraction, her lips pressing beneath his breastbone as her tongue peeked out to taste.

  “Fuck.” He tightened as though he had taken a lash rather than a small warm lick.

  Fascinated at his response, she let her fingers caress the flesh of his lower stomach as her lips and tongue caressed him again. All the while she kept her gaze on the thick erection below.

  The mushroomed head had darkened, rising toward her as his hips jerked, and she imagined it was pleading for attention. The little slitted eye spilled another lush drop of creamy moisture, tempting her to taste.

  There was no fear as she felt the leashed arousal in his body. He was careful, controlled. And she was hungry for him. There
was none of the previous anger or male dominance; there was only hot, thick need filling the air now. The same need she had dreamed of—ached for—for the past two years.

  “Cat,” Luc groaned, the sound vibrating against her body as his breathing accelerated. “You have two choices, baby. You can move or accept the consequences.”

  The consequences being his touch, his passion.

  Her hand slid lower, her finger reaching out hesitantly to slide over the moist, turgid head of his cock.

  A throttled groan slipped past his throat, a sound of excruciating sensation. His hips lifted, pressing his erection closer as her tongue flickered out to once again taste the flesh below his breastbone. She watched as her finger smoothed over the hot male erection, feeling the heat and hardness that awaited her there.

  Her clit throbbed in demand, a piercing sensation of unbearable need streaking into her womb. Melina pressed against the hard leg, her eyes nearly closing at the rasp of pleasure.

  “Catarina,” he growled. “Sugar, if you don’t want to be fucked, you’ll stop now.”

  She smiled slowly. She did want to be fucked, though. Maria had only taken his cock into her mouth; she knew that from her sister’s snide comments. But Melina wanted so much more. She wanted all of him, every inch of his hard body covering her, taking her, making her scream with pleasures she had only heard about.

  Shudders of sensation worked over her body as she let her finger slide idly around the crest of his erection. It throbbed, darkening further as she pressed her pussy tighter against his knee.

  “Cat, what do you want, baby?” His voice deepened as one hand tangled in her hair, the gentle pressure against her head encouraging her to go lower, to draw closer.

  “Luc,” she whispered beseechingly.

  “Whatever you want, baby,” he whispered as the bulging head came closer, his hand urging her down the hard muscles of his stomach as she whimpered in a hungry desperate need she hadn’t known she was capable of.