Courted by the Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  “Archer does that,” Fisher nodded.

  “He made this?” she asked, bending to study the metalwork.

  “When he’s not avoiding people or healing animals, he’s welding furniture out of cast-off farm and ranch equipment.” Fisher shrugged. “Can’t accuse him of being lazy.”

  She smiled. Lazy wasn’t a word she’d apply to any of the Boones. “Your family is incredible. Must be nice to be a Boone.”

  He nodded. “It is. I’m lucky, they’re good people.”

  She nodded, immediately caught up in the pull of his green eyes. It didn’t seem to matter that a couch and two tables lay between them, their connection was undeniable. The more time they spent together, the stronger it became. Especially when they were alone, like they were now. She wanted to go to him...but she couldn’t move.

  He did. He came closer, and his hands settled on her shoulders, his thumbs trailing the ridge of her collarbone. How could such a light caress make her breathless? How could such a big man look at her with such tenderness?

  “Kylee.” Her name rumbled from his lips.

  “Fisher,” she said, her hands clasping his forearms. His heat filled her, warming her until her stomach was molten and heavy and aching.

  “I’m going to kiss you.” He was still asking for her permission. And her heart melted.

  She nodded, running her hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt did little to cover the expanse of his shoulders. His shoulders were thick, as was the rise of muscle along his neck. He was a strong man, a man who could be considered dangerous.

  His kiss was firm, his lips melding with hers. One hand cupped the back of her head, the other twined about her back to hold her flush with his chest. She could feel his heart thundering, echoing her own.

  “This is where you belong. In my arms,” he whispered against her ear.

  She wanted to agree, but all she could do was hold on to him. His lips latched onto her earlobe, making her startlingly aware of every inch of her body. She throbbed with something she’d never experienced before. When his lips and tongue trailed along the line of her neck, she slid her arms around his waist—seeking some sort of anchor.

  His lips traveled along her jaw, but it wasn’t enough. She turned into his kiss, her lips parted in invitation. Fisher’s kiss... He kissed her in a way that blotted out the world. It was just her, held in his strong arms, pressed against this mountain of a man who cared about her.

  His tongue touched hers, eliciting a groan from him and a gasp from her. He stopped suddenly, resting his forehead against her own. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt, wanting to keep him where he was...needing him to stay. But his arms relaxed and he stepped away from her, the look in his eyes revealing just how conflicted he was.

  “You’re being careful with me?” she asked, surprised at how husky and ragged she sounded.

  He nodded once, his gaze falling to her lips.

  She swallowed her nerves. “I know you won’t hurt me. Kiss me, Fisher,” she said.

  His jaw clenched briefly before he crushed her against him. His mouth was demanding and she didn’t mind. She deepened her kiss, gripping his head with both hands and standing on tiptoe to hold on to him. Her scrubs top moved with her, partially exposing her back and midriff. His hand was like a brand against her skin, rocking her to her core. She shuddered, the heat of his skin on hers powerful. She ached, wanting more. His kiss eased, his lips a featherlight caress as his hand slid beneath her shirt along her spine.

  His hand shook. His breath hitched... Because he was touching her. Because she affected him, the way he affected her. Her heart thumped, stunned that she could make anyone feel something so powerful. She was glad it was Fisher. She clasped his face between her hands and stared up at him. His green eyes were foggy with desire, something she’d never known before. But now...she desired this man. And she loved him.

  His hand moved down her spine and along the waist of her pants. When his fingers traveled upward, she shuddered. His palm was pressed against her side while his fingers stroked the flesh along her bra’s edge.

  His hand disappeared and he stepped away from her. “Damn, I’m sorry, Kylee.” He ran a hand over his face. With another shake of his head he marched out of the room to reappear on the other side of the bar that separated the large family room from his kitchen.

  She was still standing there, reeling, when he started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. What was happening? She hadn’t stopped him...she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She still didn’t want him to stop. Whatever he’d triggered inside of her, she wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “Chicken?” he asked tightly, staring into his refrigerator.

  She stared at him, unable to rein in the sensations he’d stirred.

  He looked at her, almost apologetically.

  “You’re hungry?” she asked, trying to make sense of his reaction.

  He closed the refrigerator door deliberately, his hands resting on his hips. “I figure now’s a good time to put some space between us.” His voice was low, his tone controlled.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  He shook his head, his breathing still irregular.

  “What...did I do something wrong?” she asked, confused by his behavior. “If... I can go.”

  “No. It’s me. I’m pushing things, pushing you.” He placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay. But I invited you for dinner and I meant it. I wasn’t trying to get you into bed.”

  His words made her heart thump. Knowing Fisher, that was probably true. She’d never thought she’d be interested in being in Fisher’s bed. But now it sounded like the perfect place to be. “You...you don’t want to sleep with me?” she asked.

  He stared at his hands on the counter, the muscle in his jaw leaping. “Kylee...hell, I want you to love me.” He broke off, looking at her. “Like I love you. Because I do. I love you.” His jaw muscle jumped again. “I want you. I want you so bad I hurt. But you need to know I’m not just in this for sex. I’m in this for you. And me. And the future I want with you.”

  He loved her. He, Fisher Boone, loved her. She’d never heard anything more wonderful. At the same time, it made no sense. How could someone like him love her? “You can’t love me, Fisher,” she argued. “Not after the things I’ve done. I’m not—”

  “I can love you, Kylee James, and I do.” His eyes swept over her. “I may not know every detail of your life before Stonewall Crossing but it doesn’t matter. You did what you had to so you could take care of you and Shawn. I respect that. I respect you. I love your gentle heart. Your fierce loyalty. You’re a beautiful—good—woman. And whether or not you want to argue about it, I do love you.” He pushed off the counter, turned back to the refrigerator and pulled the door open.

  She smiled. She didn’t want to argue about it. She wanted to believe him. She knew, in her heart, she knew she was his. Whatever happened, there was no point denying it. She didn’t want to deny it. He didn’t judge her. He respected her. He loved her. And he didn’t want to push her into doing something she didn’t want to do.

  What he didn’t understand was that she did want this, all of this. All of him.

  She moved around the bar and into the kitchen. She slid her arms around his waist, holding on tightly as she said, “I love you, too, Fisher.” She paused, digging deep for the courage to say, “I love you. I don’t want dinner right now. I want you.”

  He froze briefly.

  And then she was cradled in his arms and being carried up a flight of stairs. She’d only just slid her arms around his neck and buried her nose against his neck when they entered his bedroom.

  He had a big bed. But then, Fisher was a big man. The brown sheets were a tangled mess, the blankets hung halfway off the mattres
s. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he murmured as he set her feet on the floor.

  She looked up at him. “Sorry to change your plans.”

  “I’m not.” He smiled down at her, running a hand through her hair. “You sure?”

  She nodded, despite all of her insecurities bubbling up. “I... I’ve never been so sure.”

  He shook his head, dropping a kiss on her lips. Even now, he seemed hesitant, like he was holding back. His eyes met hers, his hands cupping her face as he inspected every inch of her face. “I love you.” His words shattered any lingering doubts she had.

  She slid her arms around his waist. “Then kiss me.”

  His mouth was magic. He kissed her so long and deep that she was only vaguely aware of their clothes disappearing. When they fell onto the bed, she didn’t know. But the electric shock of his chest against hers was exhilarating. She opened her eyes; her fingers stroked the muscled contours of his body. They lay, facing one another, a bedside lamp casting a warm glow in the room.

  How could she have imagined a man could look like this? His arms were thickly cut, the raw strength of his body reassuring. His strength would protect her. He was rugged and hard and beautiful. She let her eyes explore him, the physicality of his body heightening the thrum of want in her blood. This man loved her and wanted to make love to her.

  She looked at him, surprised to see him watching her face. His smile was gentle, but his locked jaw revealed just how much he wanted her. And she wanted him, so much. She lifted his hand and placed it on her side. “Touch me?”

  * * *

  FISHER HEARD THE uncertainty in her voice and reacted instantly. It didn’t matter that he was barely in control, that just lying at her side was affecting him in a way he’d never expected. If she wanted him to touch her, he would touch her. Every soft, sweet inch of her. He didn’t know where to start. Full breasts, a narrow waist, and flared hips—he swallowed—her body was made for touching, for kissing and loving.

  He was glad he’d turned on the bedside lamp. He wanted to see her, he wanted to take his time to love every inch of her. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as he stroked along her ribs. She had an oval birthmark on the top of her right hip...

  He stooped and kissed the small oval. His hand slid up, his lips dropping kisses along the curve of her side, his palm resting on her chest, fingers and thumb cradling the weight of her full breast.

  Kylee. In his heart and his bed. She loved him. And trusted him.

  He bent forward, sucking the rosy tip into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his head tightly, the sound she made in the back of her throat driving him mad. His tongue traced and circled, his lips tugged and sucked, making her moan as she arched into him—asking for more. Her responsiveness was all the encouragement he needed. He moved over her, easing his knee between her legs. His hands cradled her face as he kissed her.

  He moved slowly into her, trying not to lose himself in her tight heat. She clung to him, her thighs pressed against his hips and her hands gripping his back. She shifted beneath him, the sweet friction too much. One hand moved to her hip, holding her still until he gained control.

  “Fisher—” Her voice was broken.

  His eyes met hers and held. He moved, sliding deep—forcing himself to keep a slow and steady rhythm. He wanted to watch her, soak in her every sigh and moan. Seeing her fall apart was powerful. The shift of emotions on her face, the way her body tightened and trembled around him, the desperate cry that spilled from her lips as she held tightly to his hips. His climax was fierce, shattering him and leaving him shaken.

  He stared down at her, smiling at her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Which drew his attention to her breasts. “Damn beautiful.” He stooped, leisurely kissing the tip of one, then the other.

  Her fingers slid through his hair, and she laughed softly.

  He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her. “Am I crushing you?”

  She shook her head, her breathing calming. Her fingers ran along his hairline, the bridge of his nose and his mouth. “You’re handsome.”

  He caught her hand and kissed it. “I am.”

  She laughed then, shaking her head.

  “That is the sweetest sound in the whole world,” he said, still holding her hand.

  She shook her head again.

  “It is. I know it is,” he said, threading his fingers with hers. “I’d be willing to bet Shawn would agree.”

  “He’s biased,” she argued.

  “He’s not the only one.” He stooped, dropping a kiss against her parted lips before rolling onto his back. He glanced at her, staring up at the ceiling, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Come here,” he said, sliding his arm beneath her and pulling her against his side.

  She sighed, melting into him. Her hand rested on his chest; her fingers stroked slowly back and forth.

  “I like being here.”

  “I love having you here,” he confessed. “I hate taking you home.”

  She looked up at him. “You do?”

  He nodded. “Worst part of my day,” he murmured. “Guess I should give you an actual tour?”

  She rested her chin on his chest and looked at him. “Maybe later?”

  He nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her spine. “Donna said you’ve already got the hang of things at work. You happy at the vet hospital?”

  “She’s just being nice.” Kylee smiled. “I wish she wasn’t leaving.”

  He smiled. “She won’t be far. She lives a few blocks from Shots. Knowing her, she’ll be glad to come in and help if you ever need her.”

  “You know everyone in town?” she asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Must be nice to live in a place that makes you happy. I can’t imagine ever leaving.”

  Her words made his heart swell. He never wanted her to leave.

  “I did leave,” he admitted. “I served as a military dog handler and then as a veterinarian. I went all over the place. And every day I missed home.”

  “You’re so close to your family—that must have been hard.”

  “I had a friend with me,” he paused. “Vince was like another brother.”

  “Where is he now? You two still close?”

  “We talk a couple of times a month. He’s in Florida. He runs a boxing gym. Wife, three kids.” He smiled. “He’s living it up.”

  “Boxing?” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you a boxer?”

  He nodded. “Until I put Vince in the hospital. After that, I do my best never to lose my control.”

  She stared at him, her blue eyes unflinching. “He’s okay?”

  Fisher nodded. “A couple of weeks it was pretty touch-and-go. Once he pulled out of the coma, he wanted to get back in the ring.” He shrugged.

  “That must have been hard on you. I’m glad he’s okay. And I’m glad it didn’t cost your relationship. Accidents can do that.” Kylee studied him for a long time. “Never miss boxing?” she asked.

  He shook his head. He meant it. He kept busy, stayed in shape. But he knew he’d never get enjoyment out of boxing the way he once had.

  “I’m glad you came back to Stonewall Crossing.” Her hand rested on his upper arm. “If you hadn’t, I might never have met you.”

  He nodded, cupping her cheek and pulling her close to press a long kiss against her mouth. He was right where he needed to be, holding her—loving her.

  She was settled in at his side when she added, “I never thought I’d end up in a place like this.”

  “You saying you’re disappointed?” he asked.

  She pressed a kiss to his chest, her arms tightening about his waist. “No. Surprised, maybe.”

  “Where did you think you’d end up?” he asked.

  She
glanced at him. “I gave that up when I was little.”

  “Gave what up?” he asked, wrapping a long strand of her black hair around his finger.

  “Playing the what-if game. It can be defeating.” There was no inflection to her words. “It’s better to take one day at a time—have no expectations.”

  He stared up at the ceiling overhead, asking, “What happened, Kylee? How did you and Shawn get here?”

  She lay there, her fingers stroking along the plane of his stomach, without saying a word. He’d almost decided to change the subject when she spoke, her words so rushed he knew it was hard to tell him.

  “Shawn was born, dad died and suddenly we had no money, house or car. Mom worked all the time, but we struggled.” She paused. “Shawn kept me and Mom going. He never cried, even when he was a baby.”

  She drew in a deep breath, her pace slowing. “Mom went missing my freshman year of high school. It took a few weeks to learn she was dead—assaulted and left in a field. We had no one so we started bouncing through foster homes. Some okay, others weren’t. I was almost ready to graduate when they said I’d have to leave the system...and Shawn.”

  In that instant, Fisher understood. There was no way she’d ever leave Shawn undefended.

  “I was too young to be his guardian. And the home we were in then...” She shook her head. “I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I couldn’t leave him. The night of my graduation, we took the bus from Oregon to Las Vegas. Jesse was waiting at the bus station, looking for kids like Shawn and me—young, scared, impressionable. Stupid.”

  “You were taking care of your brother, Kylee, protecting him,” Fisher argued.

  “But I didn’t,” she spoke softly. “He’s a good pickpocket. He can hotwire a car. He can swipe a phone, a set of keys, even a purse without getting caught.” She paused. “He’s twelve, Fisher...but he’s not. Sometimes I worry he’ll never really be a kid. Because of me he lived on the streets—without Jesse, we were eating out of dumpsters, sleeping in cardboard boxes and begging for money. Jesse might not have had the best intentions, but he got us off the streets. Something I couldn’t manage to do for my little brother.”