She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy

by Cara North

  Seconds later they were sliding down the wall, still joined in the most intimate manner possible, as the remnants of their union made skittering pulses and ticks throughout both of them. Neither let go. He sat back on his heels and rested his forehead on her shoulder. She felt the tears spring to her eyes though she fought to hold them back. I was a bitch, but I'm not anymore.

  "What the hell's wrong with me?” His voice was low barely above a whisper. “Just a few hours ago I told myself I didn't need you, I didn't want you, and now, look at me."

  Her heart ached. But before she could find out if he meant he still needed or wanted her, he abruptly pulled out and lifted her off of him. “Come on, let's get a shower and get to bed."

  Does that mean I'm sleeping with you? Hope filtered through her.

  "Do you want me to stay in the guest room?” She felt exposed standing there readjusting her panties as Heath pulled up his underwear and jeans. His eyes raked over her body without comment or expression. When he looked her in the eyes again, that glare of pure rage was back.

  "So you can run out on me again? Hell no! You're not leaving my sight until we see Paul."

  "Paul? So you can get your money?” Her heart thundered. Paul was the family lawyer, and maybe, just maybe he still needed his inheritance badly enough to let her stay a while.

  "No. So we can get our divorce.” He moved behind her and flipped out the light. He guided her down the dark hallway. It felt like she was walking into the abyss. Lost, lonely, and scared she simply let him guide her into what was once their bedroom, and technically it still was, but the room felt cold now, where it seemed so warm and inviting before.

  Heath flipped on the bathroom light and started to undress. Chance rolled the scrap of material covering her to the floor. Tears silently streamed down her cheeks, but he didn't notice, or he didn't care.

  He turned on both showerheads, and she stepped in behind him. It was routine, one they followed so long ago. He turned on the water to hers and stepped over to his shower, taking in all the initial cold water spray. Then she stepped in as it warmed up. With his back to her, she looked him over. His hair was longer. He still had a farmer's tan. His white ass still wore an “I ‘heart’ Chance” tattoo. The sight of it made her smile. She touched her own butt cheek where the matching one remained.

  "I saw Jack in jail,” she said.

  "His wife picked him up.” Heath seemed pleased at the announcement.

  She didn't know why the fact that Jack was married bugged her, but it did. Maybe because the jealousy Heath harbored over her dating Jack in high school served her well as a weapon against him over the years. The jealousy also led to mistrust. That awful day Heath found her and Jack in the stables embraced in a hug, flashed through her mind.

  "Oh.” She didn't know what else to say.

  "Let's get some sleep. I want to get to Paul's as soon as possible.” He turned off his shower and stepped out. He dried himself as she did the same. They went about bedtime preparations as though nothing had changed. It was eerie and yet somehow comforting. Like she fell into a time warp in some ways, where things were still the same, but it was a false sense of security. Everything had changed.

  "Shoot,” she said as she got to the end of the braid she just made. “I need a hair-tie."

  He looked at her with a narrow gaze. She watched him watch her as she reached for what used to be her drawer in the bathroom. As soon as it opened, he walked out.

  She looked into the drawer and gasped. Everything was still there. Every tie, every clip, she could have used her brush instead of his. Her heart thundered while tears threatened to fall again. Quickly, she grabbed a hair-tie and bound the end of the braid. She heard a loud scrapping sound coming from the bedroom. Fear shot through her. Is he leaving?

  No.

  He was definitely not leaving.

  "What the hell are you doing, Heath?” She watched him push the dresser another inch in front of the bedroom door.

  "Making sure I have a fair chance of catching you if you decide to slip out.” He removed the towel wrapped around his waist. The pure awesome sight of him naked was enough to scatter her brain to the four winds.

  Her mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out.

  "Stop gawking at me and get in the bed.” He pointed to the large four-poster bed he bought right before they were married because she loved it, and then he turned out the bathroom light leaving her in virtual darkness. Only the moon provided light in the bedroom.

  "I need a nightgown.” Her mind could process again in the dark.

  "Ha. I don't think so. Honey, you get no clothes until morning.” He snatched the towel she had wrapped around her and threw it across the room. “Now, get in the bed."

  "You're being stubborn for no reason.” But she knew he had reason to believe she would try to escape him; she did before. What a mistake it was. Now, he wanted to divorce her.

  Shit! What a mess things turned into. Time did not heal his wounds; instead, it made them deeper.

  "You're on talk revoke. I need to sleep.” He pulled back the sheets and crawled into the darkness. “You could have talked anytime in the past twelve months. I'm over it. Get to bed."

  She stumbled forward until she felt the edge of the bed. She couldn't see anything, but he walked around like he had night vision goggles on. The big jerk! When she curled up under the cool sheets, she shivered. Man, it is going to be a long cold night.

  His big callused hand wrapped around her. His fingers spread on her stomach, and he pulled her across the king size bed against him. He didn't say a word; she didn't either. Instead, she pressed herself against his warm chest, letting the fine hairs tickle her back. She warmed instantly, but she didn't sleep.

  At some point, her breathing must have slowed enough for him to think she was asleep. The hand on her stomach let go, reached up, stroked her cheek, and then pushed her braid off her neck. The hand went back to her stomach. She tried to control her breathing. Silently, she prayed her heartbeat would remain steady. He pulled her tighter against him.

  His voice came in a soft whisper, like a thief in the night. It stole her heart all over again.

  "You broke my heart into a thousand pieces. I won't let you do it again. I can't.” He nuzzled his nose into the back of her head and then squeezed her with his arm.

  Moments later, he was snoring.

  Safe to move now he was actually sleeping, she finally cried. He only told her he loved her twice in the years they knew each other. The first time was when he asked her to marry him, and the second time was on their wedding night. What a damn fool she had been! What was she so afraid of? She actually turned into her mother, became what she feared the most. God help her, she ran away from the only man who actually loved her. Now, he was dead set against taking her back.

  * * * *

  Somewhere along the line, she fell asleep.

  She awoke to a wandering hand.

  Heath was stroking the curls of her mound like he was petting the head on a dog. The fire spread rapidly from the tips of his fingers throughout her entire body as he slowly slid his fingers through her curls repeatedly.

  Maybe he was just waiting on her to wake up. Maybe he wanted one more for the road. Whatever his motivation, sex was a means to keep his attention. She wanted to keep him, so she planned to have sex with him every chance she got. It would not be easy, but eight months in therapy needed to start paying off, now.

  Slowly, she slipped a bold hand over his and pushed it farther down. Her middle finger pressed his middle finger as it slipped between the moistening lips. He made a small sound behind her. His lips pressed against her neck. His hips nestled his erection against her ass.

  Nervously, she guided his hand. She was growing more liquid by the minute. Sex wasn't her favorite thing to do, and not just with Heath, it wasn't her favorite thing to do ever. She always felt dirty afterwards.

  This time she didn't feel dirty; she felt right. Guided by instinct and so
mething deeper, she focused on the here and now. Heath made more slow and low sounds. His breath tickled the back of her neck, sending delightful shivers down her spine. Another rock of his hips prompted her to adjust herself. Lifting her left leg over his thigh, she reached between her legs and stroked his shaft. Her fingers shook from the sudden pulse of lightning shooting through them.

  A louder moan escaped him, and his other hand moved around her and grabbed her breast. Another surge of moisture pulsed through her as she realized this was definitely a side of her he didn't know. The liquid forming at the tip of his dick let her know he liked it.

  The psychiatrist she saw in California told her the guilty feelings were normal. The woman also told her she would need to tell him, everything. But not right now.

  Pushing all of the negative thoughts aside, she let her body lead the way, focusing on Heath, herself, and what felt good.

  Positioning the head of his cock at her opening, Chance slowly twisted her way down the length, rocking her hips left then right. Odd, how her body seemed to know exactly what it wanted to do to him.

  Her name escaped his lips, and a moan left her own. He never called her name. He never really said anything during sex until last night. She circled her clit faster with his fingers. He squeezed her breast tighter, pinching the nipple almost to the point of pain before he released it. His hips barely moved, but she didn't need him to do anything from this angle.

  Using his hip for stability, she pushed down on him over and over again. She chased the sensation building in her body, twisted and rocked until finally, she came.

  "Oh Heath! God Heath.” He jerked suddenly and pushed himself an inch deeper. Wow! That felt even better.

  "What the fuck?” He moved his hands, but his body was already there. “Shit! Ouch! Dammit!"

  He came in what was apparently a painful burst.

  "Ouch. Shit. Get off me,” he said, and she did. He was sleeping? No way did she just take advantage of him in his sleep! “Ouch."

  He rolled to his back and held his stomach.

  "I'm sorry. I thought you were awake.” Guilt assailed her. What would he think of her now? Feelings of shame and dirtiness began to resurface.

  "Give me a minute.” He breathed deeply, held his abdomen. “God, that hasn't happened since I hit puberty."

  "What?” She pulled the sheets up around her and watched him breathe. He finally started to relax.

  "Waking up in the middle of an orgasm, cramps my stomach.” He snorted. “You didn't hear me snoring when you mounted me, Chance?"

  "You weren't snoring, and you were the one who started it. You were stroking me. Or don't you remember waking up with your hands full?” She stared down at him. He smiled. The devil himself would pay for a smile like Heath's. He brought his hand up to his nose, sniffed, and then licked the fingers that had been stroking her.

  She fought the onset of another orgasm. Where the hell did this man come from? He was acting as strange as she felt.

  "I seem to recall having my hands in a cookie jar in my dream, yes.” His smile faded “But I didn't think it was real. I've had lots of dreams over the last year."

  "About me?” Her heart thundered in her ears. She heard him last night. He called her name this morning. Would he admit it?

  "You wish.” He looked her over then frowned. “I used to dream about you, and then those dreams turned to nightmares, so I stopped."

  If he was wearing pants, they would have burst into flames with that lie! She saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. She wanted so badly to coddle him, to hug him and promise him she would never leave again, but it wouldn't do any good. Heath wasn't the kind of man who liked to be babied, and she promised him she would never leave him before. Now, she was going to show it.

  "Don't you think we could work something out for a little while?” She gulped. Her heart hammered at her chest.

  Her mind drifted back to the last time she left, before they were married. When she came back from another useless attempt to sober her mother up, she moved into this house. His mother's room was now the guest room. Jan, his little sister, was still in a room upstairs at the time. Heath had the master bedroom, but it was still considered his mother's house. Emmy Johnson invited her to stay.

  Not long after that, Heath proposed. She thought it was for the inheritance his grandfather left them. They needed to have a bride in order to collect it. When he told her he loved her, she didn't think it was real.

  Shaking her head, trying to let go of the past, she looked at him. “I mean, you could still get your inheritance right? If I stuck around for three months or something?"

  "Got it the other day. Jack's wife Bethany actually read the will. Wasn't a will at all. It was a book. Gave clues and well ... we got our inheritance, all of us.” He sat up and swung his feet over the bed. His big shoulders were like mountains; hell, Heath looked like a mountain. One she desperately wanted to climb on again.

  "Then, you don't want to divorce me. I mean I could try to take half or something.” She hated the stupid words more than the desperate tone. He wasn't good at reading women's moods, even his momma told her as much, but he took those words literally.

  "You want half, go for it. We don't have the money. It belongs to the ranch. Thanks to Jack's wife Bethany, it's an LLC. That's a Limited License Corporation. Big words for a cowboy, right?” The bitterness lacing his tone was so thick she could almost touch it.

  "I wouldn't. I was just trying..."

  "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to fuck up my life again, but I won't let you do it.” He stood, stretched. Her eyes ate up every long lean inch of him. “Damn, we slept in late! Get dressed. My momma will be here soon."

  "What?” Between all his praise for Jack's wife, that smack in the face with trying to fuck up his life, now his momma, her head was spinning.

  "Momma. She's coming to meet..."

  "Jack's wife, I know. Jack's wife, who you can't seem to shut up about. Who the hell is she anyways? It's not Candice. I know that for sure.” She folded her arms and watched him pull a pair of underwear from his dresser, still blocking the door.

  "Bethany.” He smiled again. “God, I love that girl. Sweetest thing you ever laid eyes on. Wish I had myself a woman like that."

  She was never jealous of another woman. It was a new feeling, one she didn't like one bit. Heath, for all his basic male qualities of stubbornness and self pleasure, never once gave another woman praise, or for that matter the time of day when they were together. Over the last fourteen years, she watched a lot of women come and go around this ranch. She was one of them. She left several times trying to find herself, her mother, but she always ended up back in Montana, and she always ended up back on his doorstep. It made her afraid of him. No man should have that kind of power.

  The thought of him liking, much less loving, the woman Jack married singed her to the core. His words played over in her mind, the ‘sweetest thing ever’ comment. Those words didn't exist in his caveman vocabulary!

  * * * *

  Chance glowered at him as he headed into the bathroom.

  Good.

  If she wanted to be jealous of Jack's new wife, that was fine by him. He still felt a little guilty for calling her a bitch, but only a little bit. After all, she did run out on him, ripped his life apart, and never looked back. He waited, hoped, and searched for four months. Then waited, hoped, and finally gave up after he realized her sister Star wouldn't tell him anything. It would figure Chance would come roaring back the night he made the decision to purge her from his life completely.

  Yet, he was not doing a good job of it.

  He stood under the shower and watched her walk past to the toilet. He continued scrubbing and rinsed. Just as she flushed, he turned off the shower. Ha, ha! She wasn't getting him with old tricks today. He wasn't going to play big brooding cowboy for her anymore either.

  Hell, the less interested in her he seemed the more she was responding. Unlike his brothers, he d
idn't have a laundry list of women to his credit. Sure he had been around, but not with every woman in town. He could count ‘em on two hands, including Chance.

  He was the oldest, and he didn't have time for girls. Between going to school and after school jobs, most of the girls he met were the ones his brothers brought around. Stupid, he fell for one of them. She had no idea what is was like wondering if his every touch compared to his little brother. Then, there were her weird issues with sex. Anytime they made love, she automatically pulled him on top of her, told him no to any new touches much less positions.

  It almost seemed like she thought sex was dirty. He was afraid to do much else because he loved her. He didn't want to make her do things she obviously wasn't interested in doing. He bedded women with great skills in the past, but he didn't really like them in the morning. Chance was like fucking a mute. She kept her eyes closed and mouth clenched tightly, making him feel worse rather than better every time they did it, but he loved her.

  Something was definitely different about her. Last night against the wall, this morning...

  Damn! He was letting her get to him again.

  "Heath, do I have any clothes here?” she asked and turned on the water to the shower. He watched her in the mirror making sure he looked away before she looked up and caught him.

  "I don't know. Did you leave any?” He snorted and headed out. As much as he hated to admit it, he did love the woman, but he was done being anyone other than himself. His grandfather left him a letter along with his pocket watch, and the letter was all about time. Time wasted, time well spent, and the difference between the two. He had wasted entirely too much time on that particular woman already.

  He dressed slowly, waiting on her to finish and walk out.

  The walk-in closet built into each master bedroom of the main four houses was his grandfather's idea. His grandmother loved it. It was her place in the house. She could be messy or neat, and no one would know. When she died, he helped his Paw clean out the very closet his soon to be ex-wife was entering.

  His grandfather discovered a lot of secrets in there. They found letters, old journals, photos, and other little treasures beyond a man's comprehension. His Me-Maw kept the first letter his Paw had written her, pressed the first flower he gave her. Simple little things meant the world to her.