by D'Ann Lindun
She wanted to push him away, but with the way his tongue tormented hers, all she could do was submit under his fierce assault. Her fingers wound in his hair, holding him close as their tongues sparred and parried, fighting for domination. She was pressed half against the seat and half against the door.
He knelt on the seat, his head inches from the roof. With one hand, he worked under her tank top and bra and pinched her right nipple, then the left. Caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, she whimpered.
He tore his mouth from hers. “There’s not enough room here.”
With a come-hither look, she shoved him aside and dove over the seat. “There’s plenty of space back here.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Coming.”
Instead of climbing over the seat like she had, he opened the door and stepped out. He opened the back door and reached for her boots. One by one, he tugged them off and tossed them on the floor. Together, they slid her jeans and bikini panties down her hips.
She lay across the backseat, one foot on the floor, pussy exposed to his hot gaze. While he watched with hooded eyes, she removed her long-sleeved shirt, then the tank under it. His hungry gaze raked her from the top of her hair to her glittery purple toenail polish. When his eyes locked on her diamond bellybutton stud, a flood of heat readied her for him.
Spreading her legs with his hands, he dipped his head. Using his tongue in slow circles, he tasted her soaked folds. Dipped his tongue into her pussy. When he nibbled her clit, she cried out and dug her fingers into his shoulders. Her stomach clenched into a knot.
Continuing to tease her clit with his lips, he slid a finger inside. Pressed deep. Withdrew. Did it again.
The knot unfurled into a million streamers.
With his finger still working her, he said against her weeping opening, “Mine.”
She sobbed his name. “Gentry.” She arched, still shuddering. “Yes, yes.”
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and she opened her eyes. Gentry’s face was filled with regret. “Hell.”
Her stomach tightened again. “What?”
“I don’t have a condom with me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Disappointment flooded Alannah, and she reached for her jeans. “I won’t risk an unplanned pregnancy.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Gentry ground out through clenched teeth. “I would have come prepared if I expected this to happen.”
Irritated by his snarky tone, she snapped at him. “It’s not like I did. Could you hand me my bag, please?”
“You have something in there?” he asked hopefully.
“No.” She didn’t pack around contraceptives. Contrary to what he apparently thought, she didn’t sleep with every cowboy she met. Hardly any, in fact.
“Hell.”
He complied, and she dug through for her purse for some wet wipes. Finding a few, she cleaned up, then yanked on her jeans and boots. “It’s not like I planned to seduce you again.”
“I get that.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “Let’s just get moving.”
Nothing like sweet pillow talk, Alannah thought grumpily as she finished dressing. She climbed in the front seat and fastened her seatbelt. “Drive.”
Silence in the cab threatened to deafen them both.
Alannah glanced at the enticing bulge below his belt buckle. “Can you ride today?”
He shot her a wry glance. “I’ll manage.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, although for what she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t her responsibility he had a hard-on. She hadn’t meant to leave him wanting. She wasn’t exactly sated, either. The orgasm he’d given her had been a great start, but her whole body thrummed with unfulfilled tension.
“Not your fault.” He made it sound like it most definitely was on her.
No matter how attracted she was to this man, there was no way in hell she’d risk making a baby with him. Not with anyone. A child would tie her down like none other. She shuddered at the thought. Her fingers wrapped around her camera until they turned white. This crazy attraction between her and Gentry had to remain at a fun, flirty level. It couldn’t go any further than that.
Too bad she was already in deep, feeling a lot more for this cowboy than just a casual fling. Why? He was ill-mannered and surly half the time. He rocked her world when he touched her, but it had to be more than that for her heart to become involved.
He flipped on the signal light—why, she had no idea—and turned off the main road onto a bumpy side road. Slowing to a crawl, they inched along.
After several twists and turns, they entered a little green valley. A wooden corral stood at the far end, boxed in by red cliffs.
Automatically, Alannah reached for her camera. As soon as the truck came to a halt, she jumped out and began snapping photos. The rising sun made the cliffs a brilliant ruby color, the softly blowing oaks a stark contrast.
Clanking from the horse trailer drew her attention that way. Gentry rounded the front, leading two horses, the same red-and-white paint he’d ridden yesterday and a smaller dapple-gray. Mesmerized, she watched the sexy cowboy take the horses to the pen and tie them to the top rail and pet each.
Belatedly, Alannah lifted her Canon.
Click. Click. Click.
He walked in her direction with a frown. “You going to stand there and take pictures, or are you going to ride?”
She shot two more frames for good measure before lowering her camera. “Ride.”
With a terse nod, he withdrew their lunch, a rifle and a pair of chaps from the backseat. He handed her the first two and buckled the leather leggings around his waist.
He reached between his legs to fasten the buckles, making Alannah’s breath catch, God, what was it about this man that made her want to constantly throw him down and ride him like a cowpony? It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality.
After he finished, he held out his hand. “Let’s get loaded up.”
Ripples of heat ran up and down her arm as he led her to the horses. When he let go, disappointment filled her. Good grief! He couldn’t very well do his job and hold onto her all day, too. She watched as he placed their lunches inside saddlebags and tightened cinches.
Finally, he untied the gray and turned toward Alannah. “This is Spun Like Silver. We shortened it to Silver.”
Alannah touched the mare’s soft muzzle. “Hi, Silver. You’re beautiful.”
“She’s my mother’s mount when she visits. Very gentle and trustworthy.” Gentry placed the right rein over the mare’s neck. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Alannah took the remaining rein from him and mounted.
“You’ve ridden before,” Gentry said with approval.
“I have, but I’m not a cowgirl by any means.” Did her admission disappoint him? What did it matter?
Gentry swung his leg over the paint gelding and reined him toward the red cliffs. “Let’s go.”
Her artist’s eye was drawn to the cowboy in front of her. He sat on the paint like he was part of the horse. Her gaze roamed his broad shoulders, slim hips, the ass made for that saddle….
She swallowed and dragged her eyes away. Her body already craved him nonstop; she had to guard her heart at all costs.
The rising sun turned the red cliffs bloody, the sound of the horse’s hooves peaceful. The mount Gentry had chosen was perfect—smooth and responsive to the lightest touch. Alannah leaned forward and ran a hand down the mare’s silky neck. “You’re a good girl, Silver.”
The chasm narrowed, got steep.
Gentry glanced over his shoulder at her. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She leaned forward to help the little mare climb.
In a few moments, they reached the top of the rim. In every direction stood miles of oak brush. Below them lay the sandy wash, the hoof prints clearly visible.
Gentry urged his paint close to the edge and peered over.
A perfect pose. Alannah lifted her camera.
Click.
Not sure what to do, Alannah sat in shocked terror. Gentry could be thrown over the edge and killed. Any other time, she’d be shooting pictures like a maniac, wanting to get every twist and turn on film. Her fingers curled helplessly around her saddlehorn as Gentry rode the jumping paint. The cowboy hung tight, until the gelding came to a skidding, splay-legged stop.
After resetting his hat, Gentry glanced her way and grinned. “Next time, give me a little warning, will you? Apparently, Scribbles doesn’t like having his picture taken.”
Dry mouthed, she nodded. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault he’s a fool.” Gentry patted the horse’s neck in apparent forgiveness.
As coolly as if nothing had ever happened, he turned the paint toward the oaks. “This is the way the bull headed last night. I imagine he ambled back to the closest watering hole.”
Alannah nudged the gray with her heels, falling in behind Gentry. He hadn’t yelled at her, or blamed her for the horse’s blowup. He seemed perfectly fine, although she still shook like a leaf in a windstorm. If he had gotten hurt because of her… She took a deep, cleansing breath.
He was okay.
No thanks to her. Once a city girl, always a city girl.
~*~
Gentry had seen the fear and regret in Alannah’s eyes after Scribbles bucked. Contrary to what she was obviously thinking, it wasn’t her fault. The young horse was a handful at all times, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. The click of the camera had probably not even been what set him off.
He grinned. How shameful it would have been to be thrown off in front of her. But he hadn’t been—he’d stuck with the little stick of dynamite until the end. He puffed out his chest a little. Had he impressed Alannah? A small part of him hoped so.
She didn’t think much of the cowboy lifestyle. He wouldn’t have expected her to have unprotected sex—hell, he wouldn’t risk it either—but the way she’d said “unplanned pregnancy” with her nose all curled up like a mad old cow’s had told him exactly how she felt about him.
He was good enough to fuck, but that was it.
Why that pissed him off was anyone’s guess. Most guys would be thrilled with a hot woman who only wanted his cock. A few years ago, Gentry would’ve been one of those men. But casual sex didn’t hold the same appeal it once had. He longed for a partner. Someone to have kids with, leave his legacy intact.
If something happened to him, his mother would sell the place immediately after he’d be planted six feet under. He worked his guts out keeping his family’s ranch in one piece, and profitable. But he had no one to hand it down to.
He’d be bug food before he’d allow his mother to chop it up into chunks and build houses across his land. Gentry’s father had entrusted this place to him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to disappoint his memory by losing it. A sigh ripped out of him. He’d hated losing his own father as a young man. If he didn’t settle down soon and have children, his own kids would suffer the same fate.
He caught sight of something through the trees. They were close to the pond, and he figured it was the bull until Scribbles snorted and began dancing.
A flash of dun moving through the trees told him what was there.
Mustangs.
“Hold tight, get your camera ready and keep up,” he called over his shoulder.
Alannah complied instantly, and as soon as he saw she was ready, he touched his spurs to Scribble’s sides. Gentry circled wide, cutting in front of the small band of wild horses. The stallion and his six mares, each with a foal, had begun to move, trotting away from the pond.
With a squeal, the stallion turned his mares and foals back the way they had come. Stampeding wildly, the herd headed for the safety of the trees. Gentry whooped and gave chase. Blood pumped through his veins. He’d been born a century too late. But moments like this made life worth living. Through the flat meadow, the horses ran full out, he and Alannah behind them.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw she had her camera up, her left hand holding the reins and the saddlehorn as Silver stretched out like a Derby contender.
With luck, Alannah would get some pictures like she’d never shot before.
The horses flattened out into a dead sprint for their freedom. Gentry had no intention of hurting them, so he began reining in, slowing Scribbles to a lope, then a trot and finally a walk. He stopped and turned toward Alannah. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. God, she stole his breath. “Did you get any good shots?”
“That was incredible.” Her gaze remained locked on her camera as she scrolled back through her pictures. “My editor is going to love these.”
“Kinda fun,” he agreed. “Although not something I’d do very often. It’s not good for the foals to run them like that.”
She finally looked up. “Do you see that herd frequently?”
He shrugged. “Once in a while.”
“I got an amazing one of you behind the stallion.” She nudged Silver closer. “Want to see?”
“No.” It embarrassed him looking at pictures of himself.
“Okay.” Her voice went small, hurt. Damn it. He just couldn’t seem to keep from wounding her. “I’ll send you copies of the magazine. You’ll see it there.”
“Right.” Scribbles had caught his breath, so Gentry reined him toward the pond. At the water’s edge, the paint horse dropped his head to drink. Quick as a cat, the young horse lunged forward, chest deep, and flopped to his side. “Hell.”
Gentry shoved away from the saddle, kicking free of the stirrups and landing in the muddy water.
Struggling to his feet wearing heavy chaps wasn’t easy. As he floundered around, he drank in a nose and mouthful of the churned-up water. He gagged and spit out dirty water. Suddenly, a hand reached out for his.
Alannah.
She had ridden the gray mare into the pond and was holding out her hand to him.
He grabbed hold, and she dragged him to shore. Once there, he dropped to his knees and coughed up muddy water along with a bug or two. Alannah dismounted and pounded him on the back.
He waved her off, disgusted he’d allowed the colt to half drown him. “I’m okay.”
She leaned close to his face. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” He flopped over on his ass. “Damn. Horse took me by surprise.”
“Me, too.”
He began unbuckling his chaps. Dry, they weighed a lot; wet, they felt like boulders on his legs. Once free, he was still soaked from his hat to boots. Struggling to his feet, he finally noticed Alannah had hold of the horses. Thank God she’d thought quick and caught Scribbles before the young horse stampeded back to the truck. He had no desire to walk.
After trudging to the trees, he tied the horses and took his slicker from behind his saddle. Spreading it out on the ground in the sun, he kicked off his boots and reached for his belt buckle.
Alannah’s eyes grew wide. “What are you doing?”
“Drying out.” He unbuckled his belt. “I can’t ride soaking wet.”
Stripping to his shorts, he laid his clothes out on several large rocks scattered around. “That’ll do the trick. In this heat, everything will dry in no time.”
“What should we do to pass the time until they dry?” Alannah grinned at him. Standing, she dropped her long-sleeved shirt, then pulled her tank top over her head. Her bra floated to the ground, too.
“I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but we don’t have protection,” Gentry reminded her, his gaze locked on her pert breasts and stiff pink nipples. His cock had already begun to twitch.
She unsnapped her jeans. “There are other ways to pass the time.”
“Such as?”
Sliding her jeans and panties down her legs and kicking the denim aside, she said, “You’re already wet…”
“You want to swim
? With snakes? And bugs?” This woman was full of more surprises than Christmas morning.
She headed toward the pond. “Why not? They’re more afraid of me than I am of them, right?”
Why not? What the hell?
With a grin, Gentry hooked his thumbs in his shorts and slid them off. “Race ya!”
CHAPTER SIX
Alannah gasped as the icy water washed over her. The heat of the sun hadn’t penetrated the depths of the pond. She bobbed to the surface.
“Holy crap, that’s cold!”
A few feet away, Gentry, too, popped up. He swiped rivulets of water off his face and grinned. “That’ll cool a person right down.”
They swam, not coming into contact. This was not a seduction. Nothing like last night. Alannah made sure not to flash her breasts or bottom, keeping both under the water. Gentry seemed to be of the same mind, keeping his distance from her.
Not sure if she was disappointed or relieved, Alannah swam until her toes turned into frozen fish sticks.
“I’m cold and hungry,” she said. “I think I’ll get out.”
Gentry nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”
Without a towel to shield her, Alannah had no choice but to walk out of the pond with her head held high. She knew Gentry watched her, so she put a little wiggle in her step as she went to her clothing. By the time she reached her stuff, she had dried in the hot sun. She dressed quickly, but her hair hung in damp strands. Without a brush, she twisted her dripping hair into a knot, securing it with a rubber band.
Gentry walked toward her like some magnificent cowboy God.
Automatically, she reached for her camera.
Click.
His head snapped up.
Click.
He frowned. “Are you taking my picture?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
“Nude?”
“Uh-huh.”
He continued toward her. “Not for the magazine.”
“Of course not. Just for me.” She lifted the Canon again. “To remember you after I leave.”
“You could stick around for a while.” Although he sounded causal, a little hope crept through in his voice.