Tiptoeing down the hall, she had her focus on making it to the last bedroom but his open door drew her like a fly to honey. She stopped, took a small step backward and peeked through the six-inch crack.
Holy Moly!
Her mouth went dry as her bones went weak at the reflection in the dresser mirror. He was reaching into a drawer, his shirt was missing and his pants were undone, his large belt buckle dinged with each movement.
Afraid he’d hear her heavy breathing, she laid her palm against her mouth.
Her brain warned her to scoot before she was caught staring, but curiosity, and interest, kept her still. She slipped her gaze over slick, tanned chest and coiled abs, licking her lips, wondering what he tasted like. She’d never seen broader shoulders, a wider chest, or a narrower waist on any man. Elsa followed the trail of crisp hair from his bellybutton to the open zipper. His treasure was hidden. Too bad. She’d bet he was built for pleasure.
He dropped his fingers to the shiny buckle and gave it a tug, the leather swooshed as he pulled it from the belt loops. His biceps bulged.
She’d need another shower after this peep show.
Enraptured in cowboy candy, she finally realized he’d stopped moving. Bringing her chin up, she met his gaze in the mirror.
Run! Run now!
But her feet refused to obey.
He turned on barefoot, catching her with mesmerizing pools of blue diamond. “Feel better?” One thick brow curved.
“Lick new.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears.
He chuckled. “Lick new? Sounds fascinating.”
Shit! Heat scorched its way through her veins. “Uh, I meant, like new.” If only the floor would open and swallow her whole, saving her from humiliation. Would he think she was a pervert?
His gaze dropped over the towel she clutched like a lifeline, and she swore she saw yearning. Tremors rolled through her, igniting her parched flesh like a wildfire to brush. If she didn’t go, she’d touch him, all of him, and she’d lose herself. The risk of getting hurt was far too great.
“I better go and get dressed.” She flew down the hall, rushed into the guest bedroom and slammed the door. Leaning against the wood, she could move once her heartbeat returned to an even pace and her breathing slowed.
She started across the floor and stopped. On the bed, a T-shirt was spread over the white comforter.
With trembling fingers, she traced the soft material of the shirt then brought it to her nose. She inhaled the familiar woodsy fragrance. Deckland’s scent. He must have put it here for her while she was in the shower.
Dropping to the edge of the bed, she held the shirt to her chest, and somehow it comforted her.
On the drive from the hospital to the ranch, she’d tossed around a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t stay here with him, and only one reason why she should. His kindness gave her hope.
At the hands of a jerk from her past, she’d lost all faith in men.
Deckland wasn’t like the others. She knew that from the very second they’d met at Dante and April’s party.
But a kind man or not, never again would she allow anyone to breach her defense, no matter how much she missed affection
She often wondered if she could ever give herself fully. There was a possibility she didn’t have anything left to give.
With a sigh, she stood and removed the towel from her body, pulling on the shirt. She relished the feel of the worn cotton against her naked breasts and thighs and wondered if this was his favorite shirt.
Climbing under the thick comforter, she snuggled into the mattress and brought her knees to her chest. Her mind should be preoccupied with the losses she’d suffered, but oddly, she was drawn to the man down the hall. She found a relief here, with Deckland on his ranch, that she couldn’t quite understand.
But she was too tired to dissect her emotions. Not tonight at least.
Tomorrow, she’d figure out what she should do about the damages, but now she needed sleep.
Rolling to her back, she closed her eyes. Rest didn’t come right away.
Hearing the creaking and popping of bedsprings down the hall, she wondered if it was her imagination. Images of Deckland tossing and turning filled her restless brain. Did he sleep in his boxers?
No, she bet he slept naked.
Her inner thighs turned moist.
She’d never wear clothes at night if she was sharing a bed with Deckland.
Pulling the extra pillow over her face, she groaned into its softness.
If only she could be free enough to walk down the hall, into his bedroom and ask him to hold her…
She pushed the desire right out of her mind. Everything always came full circle to denying herself love. Each step she took on her path of misery, happiness seemed further and further away.
CHAPTER THREE
DECKLAND HAD STEPPED into the shower and an image of Elsa naked with soap trailing down her smooth curves had made him as solid as steel.
Drying off and heading to his room, he climbed into bed. As tired as he was, sleep eluded him.
He rolled from side to side and tension overpowered him.
Clutching his hard cock in his hand, he applied pressure as he moved his palm up and down the taut skin, rolling his thumb across the sensitive, slick head. He smoothed the pre-cum across his shaft, the pumps became easier and more pleasurable. With his other hand, he grasped his balls, lightly squeezing. The combination of touch with Elsa as inspiration, it didn’t take long before spasms rocked him into completion.
Once the convulsions stopped, he grabbed his towel from the floor and wiped himself clean, then lay on his back against the cool sheet.
Closing his eyes, he didn’t bother fighting thoughts of the woman in the guest room.
The next morning, Deckland stepped out onto the porch with his coffee and took a seat on one of the rockers, bracing his bare feet on the railing. He’d slept like shit and he hoped a heavy dose of caffeine in his blood would shock it into overdrive. After inhaling all of the smoke yesterday, his lungs ached, and the gauze wrapping on his stitched hand had bothered the hell out of him, so he’d removed it.
The screen door squeaked, and he brought his gaze around just as Elsa stepped out. The pain in his chest deepened, and it had nothing to do with smoke. Her blonde hair was pulled up and several pieces had fallen, framing her face and pale blue eyes. “I see you got the clothes I left outside your door.” It was taking everything he had not to sweep his gaze down her body.
She brushed her hands down her hips and he could no longer resist. The blue and gray cotton dress hung loosely on her curves, but he knew every line by memory. She gave it a swish and his gaze lowered to her pink painted toes sticking out from the hem. “Does it belong to an old girlfriend?” Her thin brows scrunched.
He laughed and scrubbed his jaw. “No. Peyton brought you some things over this morning before she headed to town. I guess she thought you might like something else besides my old T-shirt and manly body wash.”
“I may have gotten a few curious glares if I’d stayed in the x-large shirt. But it was comfy.”
“I wouldn’t have complained. I’m sure it looks better on you than me.” He dropped his feet to the wooden planks and stood up. “Do you drink coffee?”
“I do. The smell lured me out of sleep. I can’t believe I slept so late. I haven’t done that in years.”
“You needed your rest. I’ll get you a cup. I hope you like it strong.” He slipped past her and caught a strong scent of his lavender soap that she’d used last night. He imagined her naked, smoothing his bar soap across slick skin as the water streamed over her. Every muscle in his body tightened, and he mentally chastised himself. What the hell had come over him?
In the kitchen, he grabbed a mug and poured her a full cup.
“I know a man like you feels no pain, but you need to cover the stitches until they start to heal,” she said.
He handed her the cup. “I tried to wrap my hand, but I’m n
ot a lefty.” He watched her drink and she squinted.
“Wow. So it’s true. A cowboy’s coffee is as thick as dirty oil.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Maybe a bit of milk and sugar will keep me from getting an ulcer.” A smile curved her cherub’s bow lips.
Grabbing the jug from the refrigerator and a canister from the counter, he laid them out. “I do hope when you said sugar you weren’t referring to the stuff in the pink packets.”
“No. I’ve never enjoyed anything artificial.” She scooped a large spoonful into her cup.
“Aww…you must be one of those women who likes foo-foo coffee.”
“I’ve always liked things spiced up.” She poured a good amount of milk in and stirred.
“A California girl, right? What brings you to cowboy country? I’m sure this must be a cultural shock.” He leaned against the counter, watching her through the steam of his fresh cup.
“That’s a good question.” She shrugged. “How did I end up here? I spread a map, closed my eyes and pointed. Texas it was. I didn’t know the front end from the back end of a cow until lately.”
“Wow, you’re courageous making a huge change. How do you feel about cowboys?” He was flirting, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I’m starting to understand what all the rant and rave is about this state.” Her eyes sparkled and did a quick dip over him. “The scenery is pleasant and I’m even thinking of giving horses a chance. I do believe I’ll be sticking around.”
He emptied his cup and placed it in the sink. “I was starting to worry that you’d get a bad taste for Texas.” He winked.
She placed her cup on the table. “Let’s get that hand fixed up. Where do you keep the first aid kit?”
“You should be resting, not worrying about me.” He didn’t know if he could handle her touching him. His cock had been behaving badly as of late.
“Good try, but you need a bandage.” She left no room for argument.
He stepped toward her, so close he could see the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her bottom lip trembled and he ached to taste her, to suckle every part of her. She simply stared at him, her gaze penetrating his resolve. “The kit, it’s in the cabinet behind you.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She sidestepped.
Grabbing the box, he handed it to her. “This won’t hurt, will it?”
Her lashes swept across the tops of her cheeks. “I’m good with my hands. You won’t feel a thing.”
“Disappointing.” He pulled out one of the wooden kitchen chairs, scraping the legs on the floor, and then took a seat, relaxing his arm on the table’s edge. “All yours.” He wiggled his fingers.
He watched as she opened the lid, gathered the items she needed and placed them in front of her. Her fingers trembled against his skin as she spread the ointment over the stitched wound.
She finished the wrapping and secured it. “Done.”
“You’re pretty good at this.”
“It doesn’t take a medical background to tend an injury like this.”
“I’m not referring to the bandage.” Thin brows lifted over curious eyes and he chuckled. “You’re good at controlling the urge.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Her voice shook as their gazes connected.
“Damn, stop denying it. Throw caution to the wind and kiss me. I know you want to, and I sure as hell won’t push you away.” They were so close. He could reach out and drag her onto his lap, and he doubted she’d resist, but he needed her to make the move to be sure she was ready.
She leaned in, her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and his zipper stretched to massive proportions. He’d rip a seam if he wasn’t careful. The rattling of the door handle came down upon the mood like a sledgehammer. She jumped back just as the door opened.
Deckland looked past her, irritation spiraling through him. “Dante? What the hell are you doing?”
His brother blinked in confusion. “Grabbing a cup of coffee.” He looked at Elsa. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No, of course not. I-I just finished wrapping your brother’s hand.” She pushed her fingers through her hair.
Deckland watched as she grabbed the tube of ointment and tossed it into the container, followed by the other items.
“April wanted me to check on you both this morning.” Dante looked at them over the rim of his cup. “She wanted me to apologize that she hasn’t been here yet. Morning sickness is kicking her butt this last week.”
Once all evidence of his inner turmoil had disappeared, Deckland stood up and tossed his brother a narrowed gaze. If Dante caught the meaning, he didn’t show any signs. “Shouldn’t you be with her if she’s sick?” Deckland poured himself the last few drops from the carafe.
“I’ll only be here for a few. How’s the hand?”
“I’ll live.” Deckland downed the two sips of coffee.
“Tell April I’ll whip her up a batch of her favorite lemon tarts. She told me they help her stomach.” Elsa smiled weakly.
“You’re supposed to rest.” Deckland looked at her while rinsing the coffee cups, careful not to get his bandage wet. He had a hard time working with only one hand. Frustrated, he dropped the cup, it clattered across the ceramic, and he turned off the water. When he turned, he caught Dante and Elsa’s inquisitive eyes on him.
“Bro, can I speak to you about a business matter?” Dante asked.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I have some business calls to take care of myself.” Elsa was already across the threshold.
Deckland watched her leave, and a foreign sensation blossomed in his gut. He was playing with fire and someone was bound to suffer the consequences.
Drying his hands, he turned to Dante, who was wearing a Cheshire smile. “What the hell is that look?” Deckland growled.
“Well, well…what do we have here?” Dante crossed his arms over his chest.
Tossing the towel onto the sink, Deckland sighed. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re completely off mark.”
“Come on, Deck. Having Elsa stay here is more than just a good deed. And if I didn’t suspect it before, seeing the way you look at her has convinced me.”
“She’s been through a lot. I’d never take advantage of her, and I’m definitely not looking for a relationship.” Deckland pushed the chair under the table with his foot.
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, bro. I haven’t seen you act this way since high school, all jittery and sorts. April hasn’t said much, but I get the feeling Elsa has had some hard breaks. Now that her store is gone, will she stay in town?”
“She did say she thinks she’ll stay.” Deckland rubbed the back of his neck. “I can take care of myself. Now go home and take care of your wife.”
Once Dante was gone, Deckland went upstairs and pulled on a shirt, socks and his boots just as the soft knock came on his closed door. “Come in.”
Elsa peeked in. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No bother. What do you need?” She remained in the doorway. Was she afraid what would happen if she stepped foot in his room? Hell, he knew he didn’t have much restraint left.
Dante’s warning dashed through his brain. Maybe his brother was right, he needed to be careful.
“Can I ask a favor?”
“What can I do?” He grabbed his hat from the dresser and placed it on his head.
“I need a ride into town to get a few things.”
He pushed his wallet into his back pocket. “I have a hankering for eggs and bacon. You do eat bacon, right?”
“Does turkey bacon count?”
He winced. “Turkey ain’t bacon, no matter how it’s sliced.”
****
Deckland and Elsa walked into the diner, and she noticed how everyone, men and women both, perked up and greeted him. Men respected him and women appreciated him. He exuded power without the cockiness. She saw envy in a few mascara-rimmed eyes.
&n
bsp; They chose a booth in the back and ordered.
Once the waitress brought their coffee, Elsa took a long sip and it landed rock hard in the pit of her stomach. Her nerves were on edge since she’d helped Deckland with the bandage. His warm skin and playful eyes had almost been her undoing, but when he’d invited her to kiss him, she lost all battle. Dante’s bad timing had been good.
Looking across the pitted and worn table at him, he was staring through the window at two kids playing football across the street. A smile curved his mouth—she smiled too.
She slipped her gaze over his coal locks that skimmed his collar, along his sharp jawline covered in a shadow of beard and over broad shoulders that stretched the shirt to its limit. Rolled up sleeves exposed tanned, muscular arms dusted with crisp, dark hairs that matched the thick tresses on his head.
He brought his gaze to her, and his piercing blue eyes penetrated her like an electric prod.
She swallowed, but the tightness in her throat remained.
The moment her feet touched the floor that morning, she’d decided that she needed to get off the ranch as fast as she could. After dreams of Deckland all night, leaving her sweaty and needy, she reminded herself that she didn’t want to be caught up and lose her concentration on her goals. After spending the better of two years removing herself from a bad relationship, she was still recovering.
Deckland was kind, compassionate, considerate…nothing like her narcissistic ex. She cringed.
She was confused—on occasion, she still couldn’t control the tears. Her mind and heart were at a tug of war.
“That’s a loaded expression,” he said.
“I have a lot on my mind.” She rolled her finger along the rim of the cup.
“Care to share?”
“I guess I—” The waitress approached with their plates, stopping Elsa’s train of thought.
“Here you go.” The pretty brunette kept her gaze glued on Deckland. “Is there anything more I can get you?” Each word oozed proposition.
Elsa bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She wanted strawberry jam but didn’t think the waitress was asking her.
Second Burn Cowboy (Second Chance Series Book 6) Page 3