by Laura Drake
“And today,” Blake asked.
“You got a carrot for his nose?” She grinned.
“I sure do. Let’s build him in the backyard. That way I can see him from the kitchen windows,” Blake said.
The wet snow packed together beautifully. Soon she had a start the size of a basketball and she started rolling it on the ground. When it was big enough for a base she looked over her shoulder to see that Blake had already positioned the bottom of the snowman in the middle of the yard. From the size of what he’d made, her donation would be the midsection.
Wiggling her shoulders to get the kinks out, she looked for him but he was nowhere. She hadn’t heard the back door open or close so he wasn’t in the house, but then she’d been thinking about burning bridges again. Suddenly two strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Shooter came out of nowhere and should’ve stopped quicker because when he threw his paws up on her chest, the momentum took all three of them to the ground.
Shooter popped up on his feet immediately, sent snow flying in an instant mini blizzard when he shook from head to toe, and then bounded off to chase after something else.
When the snow settled, Allie was on her side, pressed against Blake’s long, muscular body, and his arms were tight around her. She reached up and brushed flakes from his thick eyelashes. The vibes between them were so strong that she wished she had fallen into bed with him instead of into a snowdrift up next to the house.
If that had happened would it satisfy the lust? She needed a little taste of what he had to offer to prove that all men were alike when they were stripped down, then she would be over this crazy schoolgirl infatuation that kept making her go all ga-ga when he was close. But Allie Logan had no idea how to initiate a booty call.
Blake pulled her even closer. “It makes for a cold bed but I like the way you fit into my arms.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. “But right now I feel a freezing mist starting to fall. If we’re going to finish this old boy so he can get a coating of ice over him tonight, we’d best get on with it. You’ve got the bottom layer ready. I’ve made the middle. All we have to do is put them together and make him a head. Then it won’t take long to put a hat and scarf on him and give him a face. And I’m talking too much again.”
“Nervous?” He pulled her up with him when he sat up.
“Yes.”
He tipped up her chin with his fist and kissed her. The heat when their lips met came close to melting all the snow in the whole state. His tongue teased its way into her mouth, creating bright sparkly things that floated around them in multi-colors like a fireworks display in July.
When he broke the kiss, she leaned against his shoulder, every nerve ending standing on edge, every hormone begging for more. She didn’t care what common sense said, she wanted him to kiss her again.
“You don’t ever have to be nervous around me, Allie,” he whispered.
Then instantly he was on his feet with his hand extended toward her. She put her glove in his and wasn’t the least bit amazed at the effect even that much of a touch had on her.
“Let’s get this snowman done so we can get inside before this misty freezing rain gets worse,” he said.
The snowman was six feet tall and quite the cowboy with his red plaid scarf and old straw hat. He had a carrot for a nose and blackened wood chips for eyes and mouth, and mesquite limbs for arms. And a coating of freezing rain was already putting a shine on him when Allie and Blake hurried into the warm house.
The second the door shut behind Blake, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to his chest. “I miss you so much when you aren’t here every day,” he whispered into her hair.
“Me, too,” she said softly.
“I want more than friendship, Allie.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
“How much more?” She tilted her head back to see his face. His dark lashes fluttered and his mouth opened slightly. She tiptoed and moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. His lips found hers in a hard, demanding kiss that made her knees go weak and all she could do was pant. Her arms snaked up around his neck and she arched her body against his so tightly that air couldn’t find a way to get between them.
His eyes were closed as the kisses grew even hotter. His hands found her cheeks and gently held her face still as he made love to her mouth.
“Oh, my God!” she panted when he finally scooped her up in his arms. “I feel like my insides are a boiling pot of heat and desire.”
His chuckle was as hoarse as if he was a lifetime smoker. “Is that a pickup line, Allie?”
“It’s a fact. Where are you taking me?” she asked. “Please say it’s to your bed because Shooter is on the sofa.”
“Say no now if you are going to,” he whispered.
“I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to,” she said softly.
Instead of turning into the room where his king-size mattress took up most of the floor he carried her into the bathroom and set her on the floor. “You are simply beautiful, Allie, and you deserve so much more than a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am. We’ve got all afternoon so I want to make this last. First a nice warm bath together.”
“Are you serious?” she asked.
He bent and captured her lips again. And this time it was a whole new experience, as if they’d never shared kisses before. Would it always be this hot and heavy or would it burn itself out after the first sex session?
“Are you telling me you are a bath virgin?” he asked.
“My name is Alora Raine Logan, and I’m a bath virgin. But I’m willing to give it up today, January fifteenth. Oh! Fifteen is my lucky number. This is good.”
He set her down and removed her coat. “I’ll be gentle.”
She pushed the sleeves of his jacket down and threw it in the corner with her coat. “I might not be.”
He pulled her to his chest again. Unfastening her shirt, one button at a time, he lingered over the exposed skin, kissing and tasting every inch as it was revealed. “You are so beautiful.” He unfastened her jeans, slid them down along with her cotton underpants, and tossed them into the clothing pile.
She didn’t argue because anything resembling words had suddenly left her brain. Her knees were weak when her bra flew through the air and landed near her jeans. He picked her up and carried her a few feet to an old ladder-back chair and sat down with her straddling his lap.
“Bath?” she gasped.
“Not yet. I need to touch you and feel all this glorious skin.” His hands were everywhere, burning as they went and heating up every fiber of her being. She had no idea that foreplay could be this much fun.
“If it’s going to be a bath for two, then I’ll have to return the favor.” She tugged his flannel shirt free from his jeans. Starting at the top, she popped all the snaps in one fell swoop and pushed it off his shoulders. When it joined the pile of clothing in the corner, she ran her fingertips through the soft dark hair on his chest, slowing down when she reached his taut nipples.
“You drive me crazy, Allie. I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he said.
“I thought I wasn’t your type,” she said.
“So did I but I was wrong.”
She arched against him and groaned loudly. “I’m not so sure I can wait for a bath.”
“Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”
He stood her up on the bathroom floor and took her by the hand, led her to the tub, and turned on the water. “Put your hand down here and tell me when it’s warm enough.”
“Are you talking about water or something else?” She bent forward and he strung kisses from her neck, down her back, across her hips, and to her knees.
“And you called me wild?” He chuckled.
She stuck her hand under the running water. “You probably need to put ice in it.”
“Oh, no, darlin’. I want you to be every bit as hot as you’ve made me. You are so beautiful that it flat out takes my bre
ath away.”
She didn’t care if he’d used the same lines on thousands of women or if he’d gotten a bum rap when it came to his reputation and wasn’t as wild as everyone said. She wanted to finish what they’d started.
“Do I really make you hot?” she asked.
He shucked out of his boots, socks, jeans, and underwear, and stood before her every bit as naked as she was. She gasped and moved closer to him, her hand reaching out to encircle an erection that was so ready it pulsated. “That’s hotter than the water. It might make it boil when it gets into the bath.”
“Oh, darlin’, we might need that ice after all.” He scooped her up and put her in the tub.
He crawled into the ancient old claw-foot tub with a sloped back, with her facing him, their legs touching.
“Don’t ever get rid of this tub,” she said.
“Don’t intend to.” He grinned.
She moved her foot slightly and found him still hard as steel, and using her foot to steady things, she softly massaged his erection with the toes of her other foot.
“Sweet Jesus, you’re not a bathtub virgin at all,” he said.
“Yes, I am. It must be some of the DNA from my Audrey’s Place ancestors rising to the top, and I have to admit I like it,” she whispered.
He picked up the sweet-smelling soap, lathered his hands, and then began giving her a bath with his bare hands as the water continued to fill the tub. She’d never known such raw nerve endings as when his slick, soapy hands caressed her breasts, her toes, and her inner thighs.
She flipped around until she was sitting in his lap, her arms around his neck, fingertips toying with his wet hair, and legs wrapped around his waist. Then she moved one hand down to turn off the water and the other one slipped between them to guide him into her.
“Are you sure?” he asked her. “We can wait for protection.”
“That feels too wonderful to stop.” She arched against him and brought his lips to hers, latching on to them in a hungry kiss. “Besides, I trust you. And I can’t have children anyway.”
She saw a cloud of sadness flash through his eyes and rolled her hips to keep him distracted. “Allie…God that feels good.” He moaned and clasped her hips with his hands, his mouth seeking hers again.
They rocked together until she arched backward so far that her hair dragged into the water, and then an explosion like she’d never felt before consumed her body, leaving her limp. Satisfaction was instantaneous for both of them. He growled her name, all of it—Alora Raine—as he came into her.
She laid her head on his chest and melted against him. “That was wonderful.”
“That was only the opening credits. Now we’ll take this to the bedroom and have the full movie.” He rose up from the water like a warlord of some ancient country, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her, soaking wet, to the bedroom where he kissed her butt before he flipped her on the mattress and dried her body with the top sheet.
“I’m ruining your bed.” She tried to wiggle away.
“It’s all washable.” His mouth found hers again and the second round started with less foreplay and a lot more pure old wonderful, wild cowboy sex. She could hardly believe it when they both reached the edge of the cliff at the same time for the second time in an hour and dove into that gorgeous afterglow together. So much for a one-time satisfying of the itch she had for Blake Dawson. She hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of the yearning down deep in her body.
He rolled to the dry side of the king-size mattress and pulled the bedspread up over them. Holding her with one arm and stroking her face with the other, he said, “There are no words. Is this what you girls call afterglow?”
“So you were an afterglow virgin until now?”
“I guess I was,” he answered.
“Me too.” She yawned.
She awoke to the click of the clock as another minute passed. With a start, she sat straight up in bed, only to find herself alone. It was straight-up five o’clock. Had she dreamed the whole afternoon? If so, she didn’t want to wake up.
“Hey,” he said from the doorway. “We got so involved that I forgot to tell you that my brother, Toby, is on the way for a visit. He’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Oh my God, I had no idea we slept so long! I’ve got to go home.” She was frantic. She didn’t want to be there when his brother arrived, especially not with a smile that she couldn’t wipe off with a dose of alum-laced lemonade.
“You don’t have to.” He wore his jeans but no shirt and held a brown robe in his hands. “I got it for Christmas and I promise it’s never been on another woman.”
“It’ll have to wait. I really have to get dressed and go home.” She hopped up from the bed and stood before him, comfortable in her nakedness. “And before you offer to drive me, I think it would be best if I walk. I need to have a reason for the blush on my face.”
He opened his arms and she walked into them. “You are amazing as well as beautiful, Allie. Can you come back later and meet Toby? He’s staying all weekend and I want him to meet you.”
“Of course I want to meet him, but not right now,” she said. “Bring him to church on Sunday. It will show the folks in Dry Creek that y’all ain’t as wild and hot as they heard. I hope they don’t ask me any questions. I’d hate to lie right there in the church house about how hot and wild you are,” she said.
He laughed out loud. “Please let me take you home.”
“No, sir. I meant it when I said that about this blush on my face. It screams sex and Lizzy will bitch until she runs out of breath. It’s not that far and my knees aren’t so weak that I can’t climb a fence.”
“I’ll build a stile over it next week,” he said.
“You will not! Everyone in town would talk about why. Besides as wonderful as this was, we both need to think about it, Blake. It might be smart for us to stop now before one of us kills the other one.”
“What?” He frowned.
“A few more weeks of something that hot will set one or both of us on fire and all they’ll find will be ashes and teeth,” she said as she grinned.
Chapter Eighteen
The Bent Spur, a cowboy bar that Toby and Blake found just over the border into Wilbarger County, Texas, was hopping that Friday night. The parking lot was full enough that they had to park Toby’s truck at the outer edge and the music so loud that Blake felt the ground pulsating under his boots.
“We’ll have to remember this place. I already like it,” Toby yelled above the din when they pushed open the double door and joined the noisy crowd.
A tall blonde dressed in skintight jeans, a top that dipped low enough to reveal two inches of cleavage, and a provocative look in her eye quickly crossed the floor in a man-teasing wiggle and ran a hand down Toby’s forearm. She looked up at him, batted her blue eyes, and smiled brightly.
“Hey, cowboy. Wanna dance?” she asked in a husky voice.
“Absolutely, sweet darlin’, but let’s get a beer first,” Toby said.
The woman looped her arm in Toby’s and wove her way through the line-dancing couples to the bar with Blake bringing up the rear right behind them. Toby ordered two beers and the woman asked for a double shot of Jack on the rocks.
“Hey, what are you doin’ here?” Deke turned around on the bar stool.
“Toby, this is Deke. Deke, my brother Toby. And this is?” Blake nodded toward the blonde sitting beside him.
“This is Lisa,” Deke said. “That would be her twin sister with the double shot of Jack sitting beside Toby there.”
“Fine way to start the night,” Toby said.
“Depends.” Blake sipped his beer.
“You sick or something?” Toby asked.
Blake smiled and held up his beer in a toast. “Been workin’ hard all week.”
Toby frowned. “You’ve never been too tired to party after a week’s work before.”
The blonde wrapped her arms around Toby’s neck. “Forgot to tell you
my name and here you already bought me a drink. I’m Laney, darlin’, and I understand that you are Toby. If you ain’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Come on and dance with me, cowboy.”
Toby set his beer down on the bar, winked at Blake, and two-stepped across the floor with the woman who’d pressed her body so close to his that air would have had a hard time wiggling its way between them.
Conway Twitty’s voice sang “I See the Want to in Your Eyes.” When Twitty mentioned that he saw the sparkling little diamond on her hand, Blake instinctively looked for a ring on Laney’s finger.
“Neither of them are married,” Deke said. “Hey, girl, this here old cowboy’s feet are aching to dance.” He held out his hand to Lisa, she threw back the rest of her drink, and they disappeared in the crowd of dancing folks.
A short redhead popped her butt on the bar stool Lisa had vacated and smiled at Blake. “You must like Conway.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re keeping time with your thumb on your beer glass.”
“I do like him.” Blake nodded. The lady was a cute little thing and her eyes said that she was interested, but something wasn’t clicking.
She leaned closer to him and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Well, darlin’, so do I and for the next half hour that’s what we’re going to hear because I plugged a bunch of money into the jukebox. Buy me a drink to celebrate our mutual love of Mr. Twitty?”
Blake held up a hand and the bartender quickly made his way to that end of the bar. “This Conway-lovin’ lady would like a drink.”
“Long-neck Coors, in the bottle,” she said.
Blake laid a bill on the bar and pointed to his glass. “Refill, please, of the same.”
“I’m Kayla. Thanks for the drink. You could ask me to dance,” she said.
“Got two left feet,” Blake said. What was the matter with him? He should be already on the dance floor with Kayla wrapped around him like a pet python.