“Survival instinct.”
“Your mom teach you to do that?”
Reed nodded through the familiar hitch in his chest. Even after all these years, he couldn’t help but react whenever he talked about his mother. Which wasn’t often. “She did.”
Katrina’s voice lowered. “How old were you when it happened?”
He pretended to misunderstand the question. “When she taught me to cook pancakes?”
“When she died,” Katrina clarified.
He kept his voice even. “Seventeen.”
There was a silent pause.
“I remember she was beautiful,” said Katrina.
“She was,” he agreed. And she’d been kind and gentle, and far too delicate to be toiling in the wilds of Colorado ranch country. Not unlike Katrina.
“You mind talking about her?”
Reed bought himself a moment by flipping the pancake. “I don’t mind,” he lied.
“It must have been hard.”
“It was.”
“And then Caleb left.”
“What are you trying to ask me?” Reed would rather get to the point and get out of this conversation.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. How it impacted you, losing such a big part of your family all at once. If you were lonely.”
“Were you lonely?” he asked her, instead of answering.
“Huh?”
“You left your family.”
She nodded but didn’t elaborate. A few seconds later, she wrapped both hands around the handle of the frying pan and dumped the next pancake onto the plate.
“You want to try?” he offered, relieved to move on to something more mundane.
“Sure.” She accepted the spoon, doled out the batter and tipped the pan.
“Well done.” He smiled.
“I was lonely,” she admitted, setting the pan back down on the heat.
He clenched his jaw. So much for letting the maudlin stuff go.
“I was only ten years old,” Katrina continued, eyes taking on a faraway expression. “For a while there, I really wanted to come home. But Auntie Coco talked me out of it. She was a pistol. No matter how much the other kids teased me, no matter how hard the studies or the dancing, no matter how much I missed my mom, she’d tell me to keep my chin up, my head clear and try just a little bit harder.”
Reed found himself engaging. “What was the most difficult part?”
Katrina turned to face him, and it hit him just how close together they were standing. “What was the most difficult part for you?”
He gazed into her eyes, debating whether to lie. For so many years now, whenever he was asked about his father, he’d glossed over Wilton’s cruelty. It was an ingrained reflex. But he found he didn’t want to lie to Katrina.
“That my father was junkyard-dog mean.”
Her delicate brows went up.
“He was dictatorial, demanding and ruthless. He yelled at me every day of my life, hit me and nearly worked me to death for ten long years.” Reed reached around her and flipped the next pancake.
“Are you serious?” Katrina’s voice was a horrified whisper.
“I am.”
“But why didn’t you leave? Caleb left. Couldn’t you have—”
“And let Wilton win?”
Katrina paused. “So, you were taking a stand?”
“I was.”
She seemed to ponder his words.
“You think I was nuts.” He’d sure heard enough of that reaction from Caleb.
But Katrina gave her head a slow shake. “I’m envious.” Moving in what seemed like slow motion, she reached up to brush her fingertips along his bicep.
His muscle contracted under her touch, and it was all he could do to hold himself still.
She tipped her chin and met his gaze. “I admire you. There are days when I wish I could tell the world to go to hell and back it up with brute strength.”
The urge to haul her into his arms was so powerful, that he had either to move away or give in. He used retrieving the next pancake as an excuse. “Hungry?”
Her hesitation lasted only a split second. “Starving.”
“Bring the plates,” he instructed. “And some forks.” He transferred the pancakes and the bottle of maple syrup to the small table near the center of the room. He moved the oil lamp to make room for the dishes, and its light bounced off the scars that had been gouged into the wooden tabletop over many long years of use.
She joined him, taking one of the two chairs that weren’t being used as clothing racks.
He sat down and pulled in his chair. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”
She gave an exaggerated pout. “You mean no caviar and champagne?”
Using his fork, he transferred two of the pancakes to her plate, then he pushed the bottle of syrup her way. “And the wine pairings leave something to be desired.”
She blinked at him over the soft yellow lamplight. “You surprise me when you do that.”
“Do what?” Deciding it didn’t make sense to use up another plate, he moved his clean one back to the counter and shifted the serving platter with the remaining two pancakes in front of him.
She watched his movements until he sat down. “When you talk about wine pairings and Dior.”
“You are such a snob.”
“I’m not,” she protested, hand resting on her fork, showing no signs of getting started on the meal.
Since she wasn’t using the syrup, he poured some of it on his own pancakes then pushed it back to her.
“You’ve spent your entire life on a ranch in Colorado,” she elaborated.
He cut into the tender pancake. “Do you honestly think you’re making it better?”
“Okay. How do you know about wine pairings?”
He reached across the table and drizzled the syrup on her pancakes. No sense in letting the things get cold. “How do you know about wine pairings?”
“Fine restaurants, parties, I read a little.”
He gave a chuckle. “Me, too.”
“But—”
“I’ve been to Denver and Seattle, even as far as L.A. I once toured a vineyard in the Napa Valley. Get over it and eat your pancakes.”
She ignored his instruction. “Really? You toured a vineyard?”
“Surprised they let me in?” He took a bite. He wasn’t about to sit here and starve waiting for her.
“You’re twisting my words.”
“I don’t need to twist them to make you sound like a snob, princess. You’re doing that all by yourself.”
“You surprised me.” To her credit, she did sound contrite.
“Apparently,” he allowed.
She glanced down at her plate then inhaled deeply. “These really do smell great.”
“Taste them. They’re pretty good.”
She cut tentatively into one with her fork. “It’s been years since I’ve had maple syrup.”
“Welcome to the wild side.”
“I probably don’t need two.”
“You probably do.”
She lifted her fork to her mouth. “Here we go.”
He couldn’t believe she was making such a production out of it. But finally, she took a bite, chewed and swallowed.
“Oh, my,” she breathed. Her eyes sparkled and her red lips turned up in a beautiful smile.
Reed instantly lost his appetite for anything but her.
“Good?” he managed in a slightly strangled voice.
“Ambrosia.” She consumed another bite. “Who needs wine pairings anyway.”
“You like it on the wild side?” He didn’t intend it, but his tone turned the question into a double entendre.
She glanced up. Her expression stilled. Her gaze darkened. “Yes.”
Reed’s fork slipped from his fingertips, and his hands clenched into fists. Though his brain screamed no, his desire shouted it down. He gave in to his desire.
“Come here,” he commanded.
Her expression turned serio
us. She rose on her bare feet, moving toward him, draped in that boxy, oversize T-shirt. Her hair was stringy and wet, makeup smudged around her eyes, yet she still managed to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He snagged her hand, eased his chair back, pulled her into his lap and captured her lips in one smooth motion. He wrapped one arm around her gorgeous body, cradling her face with his free hand as his lips and tongue plundered her mouth. He’d missed her taste so much. How on earth had he managed to stay away?
Her body curled against his bare chest, delicate hands wrapping around his back, their warmth all but burning his skin. She returned his kisses with passion and enthusiasm.
His fingertips found her bare thigh, trailing slowly beneath the hem of her shirt. It took him mere seconds to realize she was naked beneath, and he swore under his breath.
“What?” she breathed, her rear end pressing tightly against his growing arousal.
“I’m not stopping this time.” He kissed her again.
“I sure hope not.” She kissed him back.
“But this is a bad idea.” His mouth opened wide, and he all but devoured her.
When the kiss finally ended, she surprised him by turning in his lap, straddling him, her arms snaking around his neck, even as the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. “I promise you,” she whispered huskily, her maple-sweet breath puffing against him. “The world will still be turning tomorrow morning.”
Reed didn’t doubt that was true. But he feared his own world might tip on its axis and never go back to right.
Then she kissed him again, and all reason left his brain.
He acted on instinct, moving his hands beneath her shirt, sliding along her sides, pushing the soft fabric higher and higher. They didn’t stop until he’d peeled it over her head, tossing it aside, gazing at her perfection for long, satisfying seconds before he wrapped her naked body in his arms.
“You are so incredibly gorgeous.” He kissed the tip of her shoulder, then the tender hollow of her neck.
“Does it matter?” she asked.
“That you’re gorgeous?” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her nipple.
She gasped. “Yes.”
He did it again.
“I meant—”
Again.
She groaned and arched her back, and he leaned down to kiss one hard pink nipple, drawing it into his mouth, swirling his tongue, finding immense satisfaction in the way her fingertips dug into his biceps.
But he forced himself to withdraw. If he wasn’t careful, they’d be making love right here on a kitchen chair. There was a bed in the shack. It wasn’t much of a bed, but he was determined to use it.
He took up her mouth with his, came carefully to his feet, holding her tight, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He was never more grateful for the habitual condom tucked into his wallet.
They crossed to the bed, and he dragged back the covers, easing down until he was sitting, lying back, drawing her full length on top of him before turning enough to strip off his sweats and pull her naked body against his own.
He ordered himself to slow down their kisses, curb his wayward hands that seemed determined to experience every inch of her soft skin. Her legs were toned and perfectly shaped. Her stomach was flat, creamy skin, with a sexy sweet navel. Her breasts were exactly the right size, fitting the palms of his hands, nipples dark pink, beaded under his touch.
Her shoulders were smooth, neck long and sexy, and her blond hair splayed messily out across the pillow, beckoning his hands. He burrowed his face into it and inhaled.
“I could breathe you in all day,” he whispered.
Her hands trailed across the flat of his chest. “And I could touch you forever.” She turned and met his gaze. “Or kiss you,” she offered, moving in on his lips, voice going lower. “I could kiss you forever.”
Her words nearly caved his chest in with emotion. He cradled her face, holding her steady while he kissed her long and deeply.
She wrapped a leg over his body and his hips reflexively arched toward her. His hand slid over her breast, down her stomach, gently easing between her legs.
She flinched, and he froze, pulling back. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Katrina?”
She kissed him deeply, but something had changed. There was a tension in her body that hadn’t been there before.
“You change your mind?” It might kill him, but she was entitled.
“No,” she insisted, kissing him again.
“Stop,” he ordered.
“You change your mind?” she asked.
“Of course not. Are you kidding me?” He drew away so that he could look her in the eyes. “Tell me.”
She clamped her jaw.
He knew he should leave the bed, but he couldn’t help hoping there was a simple explanation. Something other than the fact she had cold feet. Which he’d have to respect. A pithy swear word formed on his lips. But he kept it there. “You can say no, Katrina. I’ll be—”
“I’m a virgin,” she blurted out.
He reared back. “What?”
“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just a little nervous.”
“What?” he repeated, unable to articulate anything more coherent.
She didn’t answer, just stared at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, looking more desirable, more forbidden, sexier than he could possibly be expected to stand.
“I want it to be you, Reed,” she whispered.
He tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t seem to make the simple motion. A better man would walk away. A better man would have stayed away in the first place. Up to this moment, he’d have claimed he was a better man.
Then she reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips trembling ever so slightly. “I so want it to be you.”
Reed catapulted over the edge. He swooped in to kiss her, telling himself to be gentle, but losing the battle with instinct. His hands roamed the satin of her skin, lips trailing behind, kissing her everywhere, swearing to himself he was going to make it good for her, but unable to slow the pace of his desire.
He touched her again, fingers easing inside her hot, snug body, jolts of unadulterated lust ricocheting through every fiber of his being.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped. He couldn’t stand the thought.
“You won’t,” she told him.
But he knew she was wrong. “I will.”
“Then just get it over with.”
“I don’t think so.” He brushed and stroked, until she relaxed, then squirmed beneath his hand. Her skin was flushed, and her breath was coming in quick pants.
Then he moved over her, didn’t give her a chance to tense and swiftly pushed in solid.
She gasped and reflexively jerked away from the invasion.
But he held her fast, gritting his teeth, forcing himself to still. “Sorry.”
“It’s—” She sucked in a couple of breaths. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her gently, slowly, savoring the taste of her lips, holding his lust in check while he let her body get used to him.
Then she kissed him back. Her arms went around him. And her hips gently flexed.
He stroked her thighs, positioning her legs, moving slowly at first. Then, encouraged by her reaction, he increased the pace. She was hot and slick and gorgeous in his arms. Her scent surrounded him, while her breathing seemed to echo in his soul. He couldn’t stop tasting her, couldn’t stop touching her, as his primal brain kicked his body into an accelerating rhythm.
Heat flashed in front of his eyes, popping like colored fireworks. He braced an arm in the small of her back, tilting her toward him, as he kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth. A roar in his ears rose like a freight train, obliterating everything else.
He barely heard her cry out his name. But her body shuddered, convulsing around him, and he surrendered to paradise.
The world came
slowly back into focus, and he realized he had to be crushing her.
“I’m sorry,” he shifted.
“No!” She tightened her hold. “Don’t move.”
“You okay?” He pushed his weight onto his elbows, freeing a hand to brush her damp, messy hair back from her face.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Little bit.”
“Little bit?” he pressed. “But not a big bit?”
She mustered a smile, and he couldn’t resist kissing it. Then he braced her body against his.
“Hold still for a minute,” he instructed. “Let me do the work.” He gently rolled onto his back, bringing her with him until she was on top, and there was no danger of him squishing her. Her slight weight felt good against him.
“You can stay there just as long as you like,” he told her.
“Really?” She pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes. Her gaze was soft on his, voice barely above a whisper. “Because that might be a very, very long time.”
“No problem.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her swollen lips. “It’ll be two, maybe three days before they come looking.”
He’d happily keep her in his bed that long and longer. He didn’t know what had happened, or more accurately, what had not happened in her past: why she’d waited, or why she’d picked him. But right now nothing mattered except that she had.
“I went to an all-girls school,” Katrina found herself explaining, still draped across Reed’s naked body. She’d hate him to think there was something wrong with her. “From when I was ten all the way to college. I mean, we saw the boys from the affiliated school occasionally. But it wasn’t as if we had time to get to know them.”
“Are you saying you didn’t date in high school?”
“I didn’t date in high school,” she confirmed.
She slowly slid from his body to his side and let her cheek rest on his shoulder.
He settled a wool blanket over them.
“And then I went to the college affiliated with Liberty Ballet,” she continued. “I’ve been really busy with my dancing career. So, you know, even though I live in New York City, and my social life is quite active with all the events and parties—”
“Katrina?”
“What?”
“Are you apologizing for being a virgin?”
A Cowboy in Manhattan Page 10
