The thump sounded again.
Flooded with rage, Cole leaped from the bed. He rushed down the hall wildly, grabbed the first thing he could find on the kitchen counter to use as a weapon and barreled to the front door before his training kicked in again, and he flattened himself against it to listen.
On the other side of the door came that thumping sound. Thump thump thump…
And then the softer slap slap slap of a jump rope hitting the ground, in perfect time with the thumps.
Cole swore. The slapping stopped. “Cole?” Sammie called.
“Jesus Christ, darlin'.” He pushed the door open and stared at her. “I thought you were someone breaking in. I almost killed you with...” He glanced at his hand and got his first look at the weapon he was brandishing. “Well, with a soup ladle, but that's not the point.”
“Shit.” Sammie let the rope drop and buried her face in her hands. “I'm sorry. You were sleeping so soundly, I thought...” Her shoulders shook.
Cole dropped the ladle and immediately folded her into his arms. “Hey. You're not...are you freakin' out about earlier, Sammie? Because when I said I wanted to convince you to stay I—” He swallowed and forced himself to say the words he least wanted to say. “I was just teasing you, honey. Trust me, the last thing I'd ever want is to stress you out.”
“No.” Her whisper was both vehement and decisive. “No, Cole, no. It's not you. Everything else is terrible but you're...” She buried her face in his chest. “You're good.”
“Sammie.” He crushed her to his chest. He would never get enough of having her in his arms. He knew it. “I got you, my sweet girl. I got you.”
“I'm sorry, Cole.” The way she yielded to his touch had him spinning. It was all he could do to stay upright. “I’m sorry,” she said again. He nearly sagged to the floor with the weight of those two words. Sammie Jensen should never have to apologize to anyone for anything, least of all him. Her impossible beauty, her impossible brain—hell, if the world ever came to its senses, she’d be running the whole damn thing.
“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” His tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth. Talking wasn’t what it wanted to be doing right now.
“I guess I have a lot on my mind.” She twisted her face up to meet his eyes, and the half-wry, half-vulnerable smile that twitched on her lips was his undoing. “I can’t relax.”
“Feeling tense?” He moved his hand up her back to cup the nape of her neck, then squeezed gently. “Damn, darlin’, I always thought you had steel in your spine, but I wasn’t thinking literally.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips, followed by the most perfect gasp of pleasure Cole had ever heard. “Oh God, that feels good,” she moaned as he kneaded the tight muscles. She sagged forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he warned.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mumbled into his shirt.
It was true though—he wasn’t sure what he was doing, so he made sure to keep doing the things that forced those kittenish mews of pleasure from her lips. He slid his hand down her beautifully slim neck and kneaded the tension from her shoulders. As his hands slid lower, thumbs circling along the rigid muscles that lined the swooping curve of her spine, Sammie let out a loud groan and flung her hands around his neck to steady herself. The lower he worked, the more she arched against him, until she was rising up on the balls of her feet with each stroke of his hand.
It was nothing like the long makeout sessions in the back of his pickup, except it was exactly like it too. Cole felt the years falling away with each soft moan from Sammie’s lips, tugging him backwards to a time when he knew no greater pleasure in life than Sammie Jensen’s fully clothed body pressed against his.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” she sighed.
He ran his hand up her back and tilted her chin. “Nowhere. Let’s just say I was feeling inspired.” He snagged his thumbs in her belt loops—a trick he’d employed back then as well—and pulled her hips to his. He whispered against that place on her neck that he knew drove her crazy, “If you’re still feeling tense, I bet I could do a better job with you lying down.”
Her eyelids fluttered, then she opened her eyes wide. “Cole.” Her mouth was so close to his.
“Darlin’, I’m gonna start kissing you now. You say the word, and I’ll stop…but I’m not gonna stop unless you tell me to.”
She licked her lips. He studied her face.
“I’m not going to stop you,” she breathed.
It was all he needed. Sweeping her up into his arms, he sealed his mouth to hers. She twined her fingers behind his head and pulled herself closer, deepening the kiss as they stumbled through the front door.
“My room,” she begged as she peppered kisses along his jawline.
He nodded and rushed down the hallway, too lost in her to worry about such mundane things as tripping or bashing into a wall. The only thing that mattered was getting Sammie to a soft place, stretching her out beneath him, and making up for all the lost time.
“Here.” Sammie’s hand shot out and gripped her doorframe, steering them into her room. She slid from his arms, still pressing kisses along his collarbone.
“No.” Cole wrapped his arms around her waist and walked her backwards until they both tumbled into her bed. “Here.”
She landed with a gasp. Her big blue eyes were wide with excitement, her cheeks that shade of rosy pink he would always think of as unique to her. He crawled forward until her face was bracketed between his elbows.
“You’re really strong,” she giggled. She trailed a finger down the center of his chest. His abs jerked as she brushed her fingers lower, and she giggled again. “I could never do planks.”
“I’m trying not to crush you.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “But what if I want you to crush me?”
“I want to take care of you, Sammie.” Embarrassed by the way his voice was breaking, Cole looked away from her and tried to get himself under control. “You gotta let me take care of you.”
Her warm hand on his cheek pulled him out of the spiral. “Cole.” She was underneath him, but suddenly Cole felt like she was the one with all the power here. “Who’s going to take care of you?”
She lifted her head, seeking his mouth, and he dove for her. With a soft moan, she parted her lips. The warm slide of her tongue against his had them both frantic in an instant. Sammie’s breath quickened, and she tugged impatiently at the hem of his T-shirt. Cole broke their kiss for only the time it took to yank it over his head and toss it away, and her ragged gasp when her hands touched his bare skin was the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Darlin’, I need to see you.” Her thin cotton shirt was suddenly too solid a barrier between them. He needed to have her silky skin against his. He needed to have her completely. “Show me.” It sounded like begging, and he didn’t care. “Show me.”
She let out a low, animal sound and yanked her shirt over her head, then fell back onto her elbows. She looked at him for so long he grew self-conscious. “What?”
“I like looking at you.”
“I like looking at you too, darlin',” he whispered. “That's a real pretty bra.”
“It's a sports bra, Cole.”
“Well, you look real good in it. With your hair fallin' everywhere like that and your lips all pouty and in need of kissin'.”
“Your drawl gets heavier when you're trying to sweet talk me,” she teased.
“Is it workin'?” He slid down her body and off the side of the bed, then went down to one knee.
She inhaled sharply.
He settled on the other knee and arched his eyebrows at her from between her legs, and then he pulled her until her thighs rested on his shoulders. “Well?” He pressed a lingering kiss on the seam of her jeans.
She hissed and her hips rose from the bed, arching to him. “Yeah,” she panted. “I'd say it is.”
He helped her pull her jeans down, but when there was
only the thin barrier of her panties left between his lips and her, that shyness came over her again. Cole closed his eyes and pressed another kiss to her body, this one right over the very center of her scalding heat.
Her head fell back, and a low, frustrated sound seemed to vibrate up from her very core. Inflamed, Cole gently nudged her thighs wider and placed another delicate kiss, this one right over the place he knew she needed it the most.
She let out a soft “Ah!” and arched her hips upward. “Are you asking me for more, darlin'? Because I can give you a whole lot more, but you need to let me get rid of these panties first.”
“You want to—?” That pretty blush had spread to her chest. “You like...doing that?”
“You already know the answer to that question, Sammie.”
He could feel the heat of her flushed skin. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess I do.”
“And what is it?” He hooked his fingers around her waistband.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, you like...uh...going down on me.” Her head fell back again as he tugged her panties down, exposing her sweetness to him.
“I would have said, ‘Yes, I like licking your sweet pussy until you come all over my face,’ but you got the gist of it.”
“Did you always have such a dirty mouth?”
“Tell you what—you let me know your feelings about my mouth later. Once you remember what I can make you do with it.”
Her giggle turned into a groan when he made that first exploratory swirl of his tongue around her entrance. He teased her that way, dipping it in to taste her, then dragging it up to her sweet little nub, then pulling back before giving her any relief. She groaned and arched her hips, her fingers clutching at her bedspread, her head rocking from side to side as he tortured her. He wanted her to feel it, that same ache he'd felt for her for seven long years. The torture of having her, and then losing her.
The relief at finally having her again.
He groaned against her slick flesh, all the plans he'd had for feasting on her all night long flying out of his head. Because he had her, now, and her pleasure filled his ears, a music he hadn't heard in so long he wanted to shout in triumph at finding it again. He fastened his lips on her, sucking lightly on her clit as he slipped a finger inside of her, and she cried out. Her whole body went rigid and he felt her tighten on his finger as he worked her, egged on by her sounds until he was sure he was about to go right with her. Both of them, over the cliff. Together.
Sammie fell back, gasping, and he crushed his mouth to hers. Greedy little fingers tugged at his belt buckle, then yanked his jeans down over his hips. He pulled her bra over her head and palmed her perfect breasts, kissing each taut nipple in turn before pulling back, breathing hard.
“Why did you stop?” Sammie was almost whining.
It nearly did him in to hear her wanting him as much as he wanted her. But he had to be careful. “Don't worry—I have no intention of stopping. I just need to know if you've got a condom, darlin'. More for me than you, I think. You got me so worked up that if I go in bare, I'm not going to last more than a second. And I plan on fucking you all night long.”
She shivered. “Nightstand. Top drawer.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Always prepared? Were you planning on giving the bachelors of Hope Springs a run for their money?”
“Cut the crap.” She rolled her eyes. “They're for my...” She dropped her voice. “Toys.”
“You've got toys? As in, plural?”
“Don't make fun of me.”
“I'm not making fun, I'm filing this information away for later. But right now—” He yanked open the drawer. True to her word, there was an open box of condoms. The good ones. There had never been a more welcome sight.
Sammie watched him with a greedy expression as he tore open a package and unrolled the sheath down his length. “Did you get bigger?” she asked.
Cole chuckled and advanced on her until she was flat on her back. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Where will it get me, exactly?” She looped her hands around his neck and gave him such a smug look that he couldn't resist.
Cole positioned himself, and then, in one smooth motion, he slid inside her.
Her eyes went wide.
“It'll get you...uh...this...” Whatever smart retort he'd planned on using died on his lips the second he was inside her. The mind-blowing combination of scalding heat and melting softness pushed him to the brink. He shuddered and bit the inside of his cheek. He'd waited too long for this to go off like a rocket, like some green teenaged boy. This was Sammie, and he wasn't going to let her go until he'd watched her fall apart beneath him.
“Cole.” She gasped his name every time he thrust into her.
“Watch me,” he begged, pressing his forehead to hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him higher, harder. “I want to see you come for me, Sammie. I want to watch your face, I want to see you get all surprised that it's happening.” She moaned and he moved faster. “That's it. I feel you. God, you feel so good. Is that the place?” He slid his hand between her legs and moved his thumb in rhythm with his thrusts. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much. Come for me, darlin', I need it so...fucking…bad....”
She arched upward with a wordless cry. Cole hissed, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again as he drove into her. She shuddered and clutched at him from the inside out. He groaned and sagged forward, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as she raked her fingernails down his back to clasp his ass cheeks and pull him deeper. “Sammie,” he groaned. The white-hot fuse of his orgasm sparked low in his belly before it burst like fireworks behind his eyes, and he came harder than he'd ever come in his life.
He sagged forward and buried his face in her neck. It took three long breaths before he could speak. “Am I crushing you?”
“I got my wish.”
He laughed and pulled back, quickly tying off the condom and tucking it into the trash can before making her laugh by taking a flying leap back into bed.
She wiggled over and curled her body to fit against his. “Stay here?” she murmured.
“You sure?”
Her answer was to pull his arm across her like a blanket. She sighed in pleasure and shifted until her back pressed flush against his chest. She murmured something.
He brushed her hair back from her face. “What was that?”
But she was already asleep. Her body was soft and pliable, and as he curled protectively around her, it felt like she was molded to fit in his arms.
He exhaled softly, careful not to wake her.
There was still a chance she’d leave and break both his and Devon’s hearts.
But at least for now, she was staying with him.
And that was everything.
Thirteen
Sammie blew on her coffee as she walked into the dining room. She lifted it to her lips and smiled over the rim.
How had she gone from not knowing how she felt about Cole Baker to feeling...this? She'd always prided herself on being practical and down-to-earth, but right now she felt positively...dreamy. She felt...beautiful. Her pajamas and ratty old bathrobe felt as fancy as a ballgown, and her bare feet were ready for dancing.
She suddenly understood why those damn Disney princesses were always bursting into song.
She hummed into her mug. Then glanced at its chipped rim and frowned. After last night, her usual chipped mug didn’t feel quite…special enough. She looked up at the hutch. Inside, her mother’s china seemed to wait patiently for her to remember it. To hold it and love it again. She moved to the door and quickly opened it up.
“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling both a surge of warmth and a stab of guilt.
Her mother's china. Wasn’t this why she was here at Bitter Ridge after all?
She pulled one of the tiny, delicate tea cups out of the cabinet. Next to her giant,
blocky mug, it looked miniature. Like something out of a fairy tale, befitting a singing princess. She wiped the dust from the lip with the hem of her T-shirt.
And then carefully tipped a splash of coffee from her mug into the tiny china cup.
Inhaling the steam, she lifted it to her lips.
It wasn’t that the coffee tasted any different. But the cup in her hand felt warm and alive, as if she and it were holding hands.
Seized with a sudden impulse, she pulled all the china out of the cabinet piece by piece. It wouldn’t do to have it just sitting here. If she was going to rearrange her life for this china, then she was going to make it a part of her life.
She’d nearly finished transferring it to the cupboards when, removing the last plate from its display stand, she was surprised to discover a tarnished tin box hidden behind it.
She pulled it down and traced her finger over the punched heart on the lid.
A faint flicker of memory ignited in her brain.
Breathing quickly now, she opened the lid. The inside was stuffed with faded, yellowing index cards, their edges ruffled with use.
She pulled one out at random and sighed.
Her mother’s bold, slanted script still stood out in spite of the faded ink announcing this was the recipe for her famous “Velvet Cake.”
The flicker of memory caught and roared as bright as a bonfire. Her mouth was suddenly flooded with the taste of that cake, her mother’s specialty. She always formed it into a loaf and sliced it thick before spreading a thin layer of raspberry preserves over the top of it.
The taste of velvet cake washed down with a big glass of milk was the taste of happiness.
“Mom.” Sammie traced the ruffled edge of the card. The last person to touch this card had been her mother. How long had these recipes been tucked away? She imagined her mother setting the box down carelessly one day while putting away the china after a family holiday. Was it the day before she got the news from the doctor? Did she hide it on purpose, or had she always intended to pick it up again?
Sammie drained her tiny cup of coffee and then carried the box, reverently, using two hands, back into the kitchen.
The Rancher’s Second Chance Page 10
