by Cara North
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Tease Publishing LLC
www.teasepublishingllc.com
Copyright ©2007 by Cara North
First published in 2007, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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She Thinks My Tractor's SexyBy Cara North* * * *
* * * *TEASE PUBLISHINGwww.teasepublishingllc.comThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy
A Tease Publishing Book/E book
Copyright© 2007 Cara North
ISBN: 978-1-934678-09-1
Cover Artist: Stella Price
Interior text design: Stacee Sierra
Editor: Heather Spence
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Tease Publishing LLC
www.teasepublishingllc.com
PO BOX 234
Swansboro, North Carolina 28584-0234
Tease and the T logo is ã
Tease Publishing LLC. All rights reserved.
To my husband Chris and his Marines—I bet once you are in the dessert a little while you will all appreciate the qualities of a romance novel a little more.
I love you Bear!
Kilo 3/2 Betio Bastards—Ooh Rah!
I would like to thank the following people for reading the first draft of this book; Diane Osepchook and John Blackmore. Thank you for your comments and efforts.
I would also like to thank my Aunt Debbie for her tireless support of my books. She is a driving force to get them into print as I think she may come after me if they do not go print! LOL!
My partners in publishing Tabbitha and Stacee—I love you both, thank you for all you do.
To the readers and reviewers—Thank you, you have made my dreams come true just buy reading my work!
To the authors at Tease Publishing LLC—I feel I am in great company with a special group of people who are as determined as I am in making a name for ourselves in this wild business.
Heather Spence—You rock!
Chapter 1
"So, which one is it? Let me guess, Jack, right?” Heath Johnson leaned on the desk and stared at his young brother-in-law, Buck. It took a while for Jan, his baby sister and Buck's wife, to track him down. He was at the lake contemplating the state of things, as he knew them; not realizing he inadvertently left his cell phone in the truck.
The phone rang again. Buck held up a finger and answered the call. Heath knew nothing in this world made Buck happier than irritating him. Making him wait was probably a joy in itself. However, on this particular night, Heath wasn't feeling up to the aggravation.
Today was his anniversary, and he had not seen his wife since this day last year. When he stopped over to invite himself to his youngest brother Jack's for dinner, he ran into all sorts of trouble with Jack's new bride, Bethany. Her ex-fiancé had shown up trying to take her back. He should have known Jack would end up in jail tonight after everything he went through this afternoon.
Heath looked at his watch, three in the morning. He was tired, cranky, and not in the mood to play games. Buck hung up the phone then stared at him as if he just arrived. “Buck, dammit, what did you call me down here for? Is it Jack or not?"
"Bethany already picked Jack up.” Buck stretched and yawned, smug little bastard. Heath hated to admit it, but he liked the kid a lot.
"Rafe?” Now, that would be a surprise. His brother Rafe was like a living saint most days, helping women and children, or at least one woman and her kids in particular. Buck shook his head, a wry smile slipped over his lips. “I know for damn sure you ain't got my little sister, your wife, back there. She's the one who called me!"
"Got that right, my wife isn't back there. Your wife is.” Buck full out smiled at him; his cheeks lifted, and every big white tooth showed.
"Funny.” He laughed at the thought. “I thought you said my wife was back there."
Buck nodded.
Heath propped his hands on his hips and wondered how he ended up with so many crazy people around him. No wonder his daddy spent most of his time on cattle drives. It beat the hell out of this shit any day. “If you've got me down here in the middle of the night just to yank my chain, I am going to kick your ass from here to Texas and back when you get off duty, Buck!"
"I'll be right back, sir. Sign here please.” After setting the clipboard with papers attached on the counter, Buck headed to the back.
For a moment, his gut twitched. He was afraid Buck may really bring her through the door. It's Jack; it has to be Jack. Bethany doesn't have the truck to come get him. He's messing with me. That's all.
"Son of a bitch!” Chance's voice hit him like a brick in the head. It wasn't Jack at all. He looked up. Her head dropped; his stomach went with it.
"Happy Anniversary to you, too, Honey.” He could feel his head shaking back and forth; unbelievable. Here she was, after all this time, wearing his favorite jacket. I knew she took it!
"Call Star, she'll pick me up.” Chance wouldn't even look at him, and that pissed him off more than anything else. After a whole fucking year, she owed him an explanation, and she wasn't leaving his sight until he got it.
"Oh no, Darlin,’ you're coming home with me.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Thanks, Buck."
"No problem. You want her bike, too?” Heath stopped dead in his tracks. Chance bumped into him.
"Bike?” Heath looked down at her, but she still looked at the ground, her fire red hair hiding her face.
"The Harley. She doesn't have a license to drive a motorcycle,” Buck said.
"Can you keep it a bit?” He didn't want to take her transportation with them. No doubt, she would run the first chance she got. Nevertheless, he would not let her leave until divorce papers were drawn up and signed. He decided less than four hours ago that she was out of his life for good. Now, here she was, in his custody. Damn how life loved yanking his chain.
"Absolutely, big brother.” Heath didn't hear one ounce of malice or mockery in Buck's tone.
"Thank you.” He nodded and then ushered his wife out to his truck.
"You letting me drive?” she asked as he opened the driver's side door.
"Hell no! I'm not letting you out of my reach until we hash some things out.” He hated that the feel of her arm in his hand stirred him. He didn't want to look at her, and he tried not to think about how much she hurt him. But it was like an open wound all over again, seeing her just rubbed salt in it. “Slide over."
She did but not a lot. He shut the truck door and started it up. They drove in pure silence, not even the radio to listen to. The night air was crisp. A full moon hung low in the sky. If he were superstitious, he may have believed it was an omen or something. He glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She still held her head down. Maybe she was tired. Not that he cared. He shifted around a bit, trying to ease the sudden constriction in his chest.
As he turned to take the long road up his drive, just like the ones leading to the other houses on the ranch, she spoke. “I thought you
lived with Jack these days."
"Guess you were misinformed,” he replied coolly, but the air around them was charged with heat. Anger, hurt, and he hated to admit it, but desire also loomed there between them. An old burning flame he thought was snuffed out flickered.
He parked in the garage.
Once he turned off the ignition, they sat there a moment. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Heath collected his thoughts, his control. After getting his emotions back in check, he got out of the truck.
She slid across the seat toward the door. She faced him, with her legs hanging over the edge of the seat; she lifted her head and looked at him for the first time. His body caged her in the truck, and though he thought he was in control, the urge to pull her against him still loomed.
Shiny brown eyes pleaded with him. He needed to ignore how easy it could be to fall into those innocent eyes and be trapped. He offered his hand to help her out of the truck. Her fingers slid skin to skin along his, the softness contrasting against his rough calluses. Why do you always notice shit like that with her?
She didn't let go, and neither did he. He told himself it was because he didn't want her to run, but there was nowhere for her to go out here without transportation. He knew from experience he couldn't give her the chance to get near a horse, a car, anything remotely mobile.
As they entered the kitchen, he flipped on the light. He focused in on the hurt making it easier to speak. “I see you stole my favorite jacket."
"I didn't steal it.” She let go of his hand and clutched at it like a lifeline. Her big brown eyes looked sad, but he would not let her affect him.
"The hell you didn't!” he shouted and slammed his hand on the center island in the kitchen. She jumped then tightened her grip on the jacket. Her sad eyes grew darker, more familiar, and then her brows tilted toward her nose.
"You want it, Heath? Huh, is that it? You want this damn jacket?” She zipped it up to her neck in defiance. Yep, there she is. Like a moth to the flame he always got burned by her bipolar rollercoaster. “Come and get it, big boy. I dare you!"
"How many men have you dared to take it off before now, Chance?” He stalked toward her. Something stirred between the two of them, something borderline dangerous. He didn't like his own actions, but he wasn't able to stop either. “Huh? In the last year, how many men has my wife fucked?"
Her stubborn chin lifted, and she met him stare for stare. “I guess I could ask the same of you. Exactly how many women have been here in the last year?"
"None of your business.” He grabbed the jacket and lifted, pulling her up on her toes. He hated her. Hated her with every fiber of his being for what she had done to him. Broke his heart, humiliated him, and didn't have the common decency to return the heirloom wedding rings he didn't see on her finger now.
"No?” She licked her lips and grabbed his wrists. The touch of her hands on his skin was like a surge of fire to his veins. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Hell, he wasn't sure if he ever felt like this. “I think it is my business. If what I've done is yours, then what you've done is sure as hell mine."
"So, what have you done, Chance?” His heart thundered. He did not want to hear it. He didn't want to hear that another man had touched her at all. The thought made his vision blur.
"You won't believe me anyways,” she said, and she was right. At this moment in time, he couldn't believe himself much less her. Damn she smells good.
"I hate you,” he ground out through his teeth before he lost complete control.
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Chance let the words rip through her like a knife, slicing her heart apart. Then his lips smashed hers with bruising force. She didn't want to do this; she needed to do it. She hadn't been with a man since their wedding night. She made a huge mistake. She got scared, and she ran. He would not understand. He would not know how scary it was to love someone as she loved him and then find out he didn't trust her.
I must be crazy. The man just said he hated her, but his kiss was telling her something else entirely. Heath was always one for restraint, but he was like a wild beast now. She knew he was always gentle with her. She did not know he could be so rough.
Her arms left his big wrists and wrapped around his neck. She tried not to enjoy it, knowing it wasn't a lasting moment. Every stroke of his tongue against hers filled her with fire.
When he pulled back, he bit her lip so hard she was amazed he did not draw blood. His brown eyes looked so dark they were almost black with anger. Why she felt the surge of moisture on her panties was a mystery. You can't possibly be turned on by this! It was like something or someone else was taking her over entirely.
"Dammit!” he shouted.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?” she asked before she thought about the words. Watching his inner turmoil turn outward was both a rush and a shock. Could she possibly still have some affect on him? The stupid notion was enough reason to entice him on. She was always good at goading him, and anyone else for that matter, but this was different. She never talked during sex. “But you're mad."
"I'm pissed!” he shouted, and she could feel her toes leave the ground as he pulled her up closer to him by the jacket. If he lifted any higher, she was likely to fall out of the damn thing!
"So! So am I Heath. But you feel it. You feel it like I do, so let's just do it and get it over with. Let's just fuck!” Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as a nervous surge skittered throughout her body. She watched him frown, and his eyebrows drew down into a fierce scowl. Men would cower under that glare, but she knew no matter what she had done, he would never hurt her, not physically anyways. He could probably spit nails right now, but he wouldn't raise a hand to her.
Knowing a man would not hit her allowed her more freedom to torture him in the past. She didn't believe it back then. She thought if she pushed him harder, he would eventually snap. She realized after she left, it just wasn't in him. God, what have I done to you?
"You say that to all the boys?” He barely moved his lips when he spoke now.
"There's only been you, Heath. Believe it or not. It's the God's honest truth."
His stream of curses in response to her statement left her a little unsure as to what he was going to do next. Then their eyes locked. Like illegal fireworks on the Fourth of July they exploded into a clash of heat.
He pulled the zipper down and pushed the coat off her shoulders. He laid it on the counter beside him with more care than he handled her at the moment. Chance tried in vain to pull his t-shirt up. He was bigger and faster than she was.
Heath simply grabbed the vee in her tank top and ripped it like a piece of paper. Please don't rip my bra. Her eyes closed as his fingers diligently unsnapped the bra and let it hang open. She had no idea if her clothes were still here or not. He could have thrown her stuff away or just as likely burned it, from the tales she had heard.
"Ah shit!” he said and roughly nuzzled her neck with the side of his face as his fingers probed between her legs. His beard stubble scratched and raked against her neck. It seemed as though he was torn between wanting to be nice to her and wanting to make her pay by not being nice at all. She was used to the latter, but not used to it from Heath. He stripped her jeans down her hips.
She stepped out of them. His cheeks scratched over her stomach and his nose came dangerously close to her groin. She knew her cheeks were hot. She would never let him do this before. Now, he no longer asked for her permission.
As she started for her panties, he stood up, unfastened his jeans then pulled both jeans and underwear down just enough. He pinned her against the wall and said, “Don't bother."
Her hands left the underwear in place and grabbed his neck to hold on. Heath wasn't much for diversity. In all the years she'd known him, they had been in one position, missionary. He was a true male about it always, dominant and taking his pleasure though he did care if she came, which she never had. But this, this was so unexpected and thrilling. After twelve months without any se
xual contact, Chance could feel herself already winding up for a release.
He snaked his fingers around her bottom and pulled her panties off to the side, exposing her dripping wet sex. He cursed again as two fingers pulled her nether lips apart. She inhaled deeply. The scent of her own arousal, his, the smell of the house she left a year ago, the memories flashing through her mind all combined to form one heady aphrodisiac. I missed you so much. She shook her head. He looked at her; the broad head of his dick probed the opening. She could hear the suctioning of her lips against it.
"Yes.” She realized then he thought she was shaking her head no to him, with her saying yes, giving him permission; he let out a strangled breath.
Heath closed his eyes and pushed inside with one long hard thrust. The jolt of it felt so good she threw her head back and cracked it against the wall. “Ouch."
"Damn it all to hell!” Heath made long hard strokes, root to tip and back again. His fingers dug into her skin. His chest grazed her nipples. The bra fell off somewhere between his pulling off her jeans and lifting her against the wall. His chest hair tickled and teased.
"Son of a bitch.” Chance moaned. Her fingers twined in his hair and pulled. She couldn't get him close enough, couldn't get enough. Angry or not he was still the only man she ever loved, and he still wracked her from head to toe with emotions.
"I hate you,” he said as his thrusts became shorter and faster.
"Go on, Heath, let it out.” He'd never talked about his emotions. She, on the other hand, always acted like her mother, never satisfied. If anger was one he could express verbally, well, it was a start. For both of them.
"You left me. Humiliated me, you..."
"Say it, Heath.” Chance felt the pull of her orgasm and toppled right over the edge. Her head hit the wall again as she looked at him. He opened his eyes, and she knew he felt every throb and pulse. She gulped as the first orgasm she shared with a man pulsed through her like a freight train. “Say it."
"You lying ... bitch.” He whispered the word as his eyes closed, and he came in short jerks.
