She trailed her fingertips along the underside of his upper arms. His skin was softer there—deliciously so. As she traced around his armpits to the top of his rib cage, she felt his skin grow goose bumps at her touch.
“Do you like that?” she whispered.
“Oh yeah.”
He shifted a little beneath her, and she lifted one finger to caution him.
“Don’t make me get my cuffs.”
“You brought cuffs to dinner?”
“And my gun. They’re in my handbag along with my badge. I never leave home without them.”
“Duly noted,” Cord said with a slight frown.
Zoe hesitated in her movements, leaning back a little to study his face. His eyes still glittered with desire but his expression had become more closed, less playful.
“Does it worry you I carry a gun everywhere?”
She began to stroke his smooth chest, her fingertips tingling at the sensation of her skin on his.
“Not my place to worry about you.”
“That’s right, it’s not. Enough talking. Now, just feel.”
And she made sure he did. She smoothed her hands flat and skimmed the muscles of his chest, learning the dips and curves that made up the appealing shapes of his body, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist. She bent down and kissed him before transferring her mouth from his lips to the flat discs of his nipples. They drew into small peaks against her tongue as she pinched and played with him. His hips shifted again and she clamped her thighs tight around him, halting his movement. Let him suffer the way he’d made her suffer—although it had been a delectable torment that he’d made her endure before bringing her to completion, and she had every intention of ensuring he experienced the same level of satisfaction.
And if he didn’t? Well, she’d have to go back to square one and start over again. Her mouth curved into another smile at the thought, and she applied her attention to making him squirm beneath her as she tasted, licked and sucked at his skin. He wore a subtle cologne, but it was his own special scent that she’d quickly become addicted to. It made her want to nuzzle against him and draw in deep breath after deep breath. Never before had she felt this visceral level of attraction to another person, and it was intoxicating.
She rose up slightly and shifted her legs lower as she explored his torso, delighting in the way his skin jumped beneath her tongue as she followed the light trail of hair from his belly button down to his groin. His erection left her in no doubt as to his readiness, but she wanted to prolong this as much as possible. She let her tongue drift along the shadowed line of his inner hip—down, then up again. The hitch in his breathing told her that she was tormenting him, but to his credit he kept his hands firmly attached to the headboard, even though the muscles of his arms were bunched with tension.
Maybe it was time to take pity on him, she thought, and she turned her attention to his swollen shaft. She nuzzled at the base, breathing in the hot, musky scent of his skin, then trailed her tongue from base to tip. Cord groaned out loud at her actions, his hands suddenly letting go of the headboard and coming to cup her head, his fingers tangling in her short hair. She licked him again before taking the hot, silky head into her mouth and playing her tongue against the smoothness. His fingers tightened, and she felt his entire body clench as he fought against the urge to thrust deeper into her mouth.
Suddenly it became important to her to make him lose control, and she used every trick she’d ever read about as she licked, sucked and stroked him to a wild, shaking climax. When he was spent, she shifted until she was lying beside him, her head nestled against his chest, her arm across his waist. His heart beat like a herd of stampeding cattle in his chest and his body glistened with a light sheen of perspiration.
She’d done that to him, she thought with a touch of pride. She’d reduced this man—who had at first appeared to be fierce and determined, but who could cook like a dream, who could bring her to orgasm with a deftness she’d never known before—to one who’d put all sense of responsibility and control aside to revel in pure gratification. It was empowering to know she’d done that for him, liberating to realize that she could meet him on an even playing field where there were no specific roles based on gender. Only sensation, and pleasure and, she smiled anew, fun. Her time in Royal was shaping up to be very interesting indeed.
Seven
Cord waited some time until he could trust himself to speak again.
“That wasn’t how I envisaged this evening happening,” he stated bluntly.
Zoe continued tracing tiny shapes with her fingertips at his waist.
“Oh, disappointed?” she teased.
He felt something swell in his chest. Happiness? It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it, let alone trusted anyone with his body the way he’d trusted Zoe, that he found it hard to define.
“Definitely not disappointed,” he growled. Cord rolled over so Zoe lay beneath him, his face directly over hers. “But I feel like we could do better.”
She laughed—a deep-seated chuckle that made her whole body shake.
“By all means let’s try it. You can never have too much dessert, after all.”
She was a woman after his own heart, it seemed, and this time, when they made love, he made certain that, despite several delightful detours, they joined as one, thanking his lucky stars that the condoms in his drawer hadn’t expired. He knew, because he’d checked before she arrived tonight, and while he hadn’t wanted to assume this night would end with them both in his bed, he was so very glad it had.
Her long, supple legs hooked around his waist when he entered her, her heat and inner muscles drawing him in deep. Cord locked his gaze with hers, watched as her eyes became glassy as they rocked together in a dance as old as time. He felt her entire body clench on the first wave of orgasm as it hit her, and he allowed himself free rein, until they reached the summit together and hung there suspended in mutual bliss, before descending back to reality.
* * *
Morning came all too soon. In the distance, Cord could hear the sounds of his hands out on the ranch moving cattle, the lowing beasts voicing their thoughts on being brought in to a new pasture. He should be out there, working alongside them, but a certain tall, dark-haired detective was still entangled in his sheets. Not that he was complaining. She felt good—too good. Too easy to get used to and that sure wouldn’t be a good thing. Not only did she live in Houston, she was a cop. A dedicated one at that. She wasn’t in her career for a few years to pass time. No, this was a lifetime choice for her.
He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Britney, which probably explained why this thing with Zoe had flared up so quickly. There was no way it could be long-term. Fires that burned this brightly extinguished just as swiftly.
He thought about her bag downstairs, about the gun she’d admitted was secreted in there. Even on a social visit, she was armed. It was part and parcel of who she was, and the danger that was associated with the kind of people she tracked down was equally a part of her every day.
He’d thought he could handle it with Britney. He’d supported her in her dream to become a cop, told her he’d be there for her 100 percent. But his support didn’t equate to squat when she faced down a liquor-store robber only a few hours into her first shift. And being there as they pulled life support in ICU days after she’d been shot—well, that had been unarguably the darkest day of his life. He would not go down that road again. He simply could not.
Rebuilding himself had been hard, but his parents had put off their planned early retirement to see him back on his feet. His abuelita had been a strong, silent presence at his back, feeding his body and feeding his soul whenever he would let her. He’d resumed a life, of sorts. He’d dated once or twice, but things had never gotten to the stage they had with Zoe. Hell, he didn’t even understand how things had moved this fast with
her.
She was everything he never again wanted in a woman. Career focused, a detective and undoubtedly fiercely independent. She’d have had to fight her way into her position—past the expectations of her family that she fit into a more traditional mold, and past the obstacles that she no doubt had to overcome to be recognized in her working world. He’d always told himself that if he ever took the risk of another relationship again, it would be with a woman without career-focused ambition. One who shared the same dreams and goals as he had and who would partner with him in everything to do with life on the ranch. One who wanted stability, security and who had a desire to continue to build a legacy for future generations of Galicia children.
There was a sharp stab in his chest at the thought of kids. He’d always taken for granted that he’d be a father one day, but now he wasn’t so sure. That took a level of commitment he wasn’t certain he was capable of anymore—not only to the children themselves, but to their mother, too. One thing was for certain, though—a woman like Zoe Warren was not on the same life path as he was. The whole city-versus-country thing would never work between them. He loved life on the ranch. He’d been born and bred into it as much as she’d been born and bred into her life in Houston. They were chalk and cheese, oil and water—and yet he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
Zoe stirred and stretched, untangling her limbs from his and rolling onto her back. Cord let his gaze slide over the lean lines of her body and then back to the surprising fullness of her breasts. Now that he knew how sensitive they were, he dreamed of ways he could tease them into the taut peaks that spoke evocatively of her depth of desire.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice still a little gruff with sleep.
“How good is yet to be determined. On the meal basis we’ve covered appetizers, main courses and dessert. What’s breakfast like around here?”
Never one to back down from a challenge, he showed her, and it was a full half hour later before he chased her into the bathroom, where they showered together. He would have taken her there again if he hadn’t run out of condoms, but he had to satisfy himself with soaping her up and washing her hair and helping her rinse off. When she exited the shower stall, he switched the water to cold, determined to get his body under some semblance of control, but one look at her as she wiped her body dry with one of his thick, fluffy towels and he knew it was an exercise in hopelessness. The only way he’d return to any kind of normal was when she’d gone, and oddly, he didn’t want her to leave.
She was dressed when he came into the bedroom with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist.
“I have to go,” she said with obvious reluctance. “Thanks for dinner and...everything.”
“Anytime,” he drawled in response. “In fact, how about dinner tonight? We can go to the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“I’ve heard about it. Isn’t the dress code pretty strict in the restaurant there?”
“I could lend you a suit,” he offered only half tongue in cheek. In fact, the more he thought about her in one of his suits wearing that sinfully seductive lingerie underneath, the more he liked the idea.
“I’ll sort something out. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”
“I’ll be ready.”
The second he heard her car start and head down the driveway, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number of an old school friend.
“Frank, you working on the sheriff’s recording and video equipment?”
“Yeah, but how’d you know that?”
Cord’s hand tightened on his phone. “That’s not important. Tell me, how long do you think it’ll take to get it all up and running again?”
Frank hemmed and hawed a little before speaking. “Should be done by the end of the day.”
He started to get into some of the technical jargon that made Cord’s eyes cross, so Cord interrupted him the moment Frank drew in a breath.
“Look, you remember how I bailed you out with Sissy when she thought you were having an affair. Gave you an alibi?”
“Yeah?” There was a note of caution in Frank’s voice that hadn’t been there before.
“You owe me one, right?”
“Sure do,” Frank agreed.
Cord closed his eyes briefly. He hated having to do this. He knew Frank hadn’t been unfaithful to his wife. Sissy had been feeling insecure when she was pregnant, and it was easier for Cord to say he’d been with Frank than for Frank’s biggest secret—the fact that he was learning to read as an adult, so he could read to his newborn child—to come out to all and sundry.
“Could you take a little longer over that repair?” Cord eventually asked.
“Like a day or two more?”
“How about a week, maybe two?”
“And then we’d be even?”
“More than even.”
“I could do that,” Frank agreed.
“Thanks, Frank, appreciate it.”
“You gonna tell me why you want me to delay on this?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Sounds like I’ll be struggling to source a vital thingymabobwotsit.”
“Darn hard things to track down,” Cord agreed with a smile before ending the call.
* * *
Ryder Currin rode the elevator to Sterling Perry’s floor determined to put this old rivalry to bed once and for all. The pain and damage it was causing had gone on long enough.
“Mr. Currin!” the receptionist gasped, recognizing him instantly as he swept out of the elevator and past the main reception area. “You can’t—”
“Don’t bother announcing me. I’ll announce myself,” he said over his shoulder as he strode toward Perry’s office.
He heard the scuffle of activity behind him, but no one was going to stop him now. He’d had enough. The roll-on effect of Perry’s bitterness, fed by years of lies and innuendo from everyone around them, had taken a toll far greater than either man could ever have anticipated. And, as far as Ryder was concerned, it stopped now. It was one thing for Perry to hold a grudge because of Ryder’s close friendship with Perry’s late wife, Tamara, but quite another for him to stand in the way of his daughter Angela’s happiness. Ryder’s relationship with Angela had been fragile from the get-go, but despite that they’d found a way to make it work—until the old rumors of Ryder’s relationship with her mom had resurfaced. Ryder and Tamara Perry had never been more than friends back when he’d worked as a hand on the York ranch—close friends, sure, but nothing more than that. He’d been her shoulder to cry on when things got tough and when he’d questioned her happiness in her marriage to Sterling, she’d made it clear her loyalty to her husband was unswerving and she would always remain with him, no matter what.
In the face of the vicious claims that had begun to circulate Ryder knew there’d be a wedge driven between him and Angela or Angela and her father, and she’d have to choose between them. Out of respect for both Tamara’s memory and for her daughter, who he loved more than life itself, he’d walked away from Angela and his promise to marry her because there was no way he was forcing her to make that choice. He’d regretted his actions every second of every day since. He couldn’t work things out with Angela until he’d worked things out with Perry.
Perry’s manipulation of those around him had done a lot of damage, but the older man’s meddling had resulted in an unexpected bonus and thanking him would be Ryder’s starting point. Thanks to Perry’s anonymous labor complaint—one that unfortunately had a strong basis in fact and that Ryder had known nothing about until the complaint had been brought to his attention—he’d been able to institute worker reforms. Firing Willem Inwood had been unpleasant, but regrettably necessary. No one got away with treating his staff badly, especially not someone in a position of privilege and respect such as Inwood had held.
Just the thought of
the man was enough to get Ryder’s dander up, and he forced himself to shove his anger down deep before it could potentially damage the impromptu meeting he was about to have with Sterling Perry. Like he always told his kids—Xander, Annabel and Maya—never approach anything or anyone important in anger. He stopped in his tracks, squared his shoulders and took a steadying breath. At his destination, Ryder knocked twice, then pushed open the door to Perry’s office. The older man was just putting down his phone.
“You’d better be quick,” Sterling said with a sardonic curl of his lip. “I’m informed security is on their way.”
“Tell them to stand down. I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Really? Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he taunted.
“Well, you can believe it. In fact, I’m here to thank you.”
“Oh?” Perry’s brows rose in genuine surprise.
“Yeah. Thanks to your anonymous—” Ryder made air quotes with his fingers “—complaint, I was able to cut the rot from my business and institute reforms to ensure such abuses never happen again. We’ll be stronger than ever now, and it’s all thanks to you.”
He watched the play of emotions across Perry’s face. It wasn’t often the man let his facade down, and it was enlightening to see the short burst of confusion followed by reluctant acceptance.
“I see,” Perry replied, leaning back in his chair. “You’d better take a seat.”
Ryder sat in the chair nearest to him, just as security arrived in the room.
“Mr. Perry, we’ll deal with your unexpected visitor right away.”
“No need. It appears that Mr. Currin and I have some business to discuss. Please leave us.” Perry waved a hand toward the door.
“You want us to wait outside?”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
Ryder waited until Perry’s muscle left the room. Had he really wanted to hurt the older man, there was no way his security detail had been here quick enough. Ryder made a comment to that effect, eliciting a burst of unexpected laughter from the man who’d become his nemesis.
Tangled With A Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston Book 8) Page 7
