Second Burn Cowboy (Second Chance Series Book 6)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  His cock came alive. It was impossible for a man to think clearly with a hard on.

  Tearing his gaze away, he opened his beer. “Cheers.” He held up his bottle, and she clinked it with her own. He wasn’t much of a drinker, probably why he was buzzing after his second, but tonight he needed something to ease the strain in his muscles—the one behind his zipper in particular.

  “I’ve never been to a wedding where the bride rides a horse down the aisle. It was amazing.” She tapped her finger against the bottle.

  “Never know what you’ll get around these parts. I once heard a man and woman got hitched in an elevator.”

  “That’s a little odd, but I’m sure they had their reasons.” Shaking her head, she drank again.

  He scraped his fingers along his chin. “Give me a simple wedding in the backyard and I wouldn’t complain.”

  “The sunset is beautiful here on Brooke Creek.” She looked at him through her thick lashes. “It’d make a pretty backdrop for an evening ceremony.”

  “Then we’re in agreement.” He kept his gaze steady with hers. “Cupcakes all gone? Need any help unloading?”

  “Every last one. I’ll unload tomorrow.” She relaxed into the chair and one strap of her dress slid down her arm. She tugged it back up. “Ooh, I love this song. I went to his concert when I was eighteen. A friend dragged me there, but I ended up having the greatest time.” She jumped up and set her bottle on the table. He could see the alcohol was having a relaxing effect. “Let’s dance.”

  He shrugged and stood up, taking her hand into his. “A George Strait fan, huh?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Sweetheart, there are a lot of things about you that throw me for a loop,” he admitted.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. And there are two things that should never go to waste—good food and good music.”

  “A girl after my own heart.” He led her to the middle of the kitchen. “How do you like the dance floor?” He wriggled his brows.

  “It’s lovely. But wait.” She bent and slipped off her heels, tossing them a few feet away. “Much better.”

  Placing his hand at her waist, he gently pulled her closer, getting a strong scent of chocolate. He’d only meant to dance but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and eased against him, a fire ignited through his body as his zipper stretched. His cock wanted a replay.

  Her head dropped back onto one shoulder and she stared up at him through the veil of lashes. He was so close he could see a small, thin scar above one brow. Before he connected the dots of his actions, he lifted a hand and traced the blemish with the tip of his pointer finger. She blinked and her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip, which made his balls pulsate. Dropping his hand to her shoulder, he caressed her silky skin.

  “I’m confused, Deckland.”

  He smiled. “I’ve already guessed that.”

  “You make me feel things I didn’t think were possible.” Her voice was soft and warm, infusing his blood with honey.

  The beer was definitely calming her. And her touch was soothing him. “Better than being numb.”

  “I can’t believe on a Saturday night you’re here when I bet there are tons of women who’d love to dance with you.”

  “That’s why I don’t go anywhere. I have to beat off the entourage.” He winked. “What’s your excuse? It’s early yet.”

  “I don’t go out much.”

  “Someone did a number on you, didn’t they?” She stiffened. “Bad subject?”

  “You could say that.” She averted her gaze.

  He realized if he went any further in questioning, she’d pull away. “Then let’s not ruin a perfectly good dance with useless conversation about the past and exes.”

  She eased into him some and he glided his hand along the small of her back.

  The slow song pacified his soul. The tune ended and another began, neither made an effort to end their hold.

  Elsa laid her head against his chest and smoothed her hands down his arms until her fingers were at his wrists. Her delicate fingers looked pale and fragile against his darker skin, kicking his protective side in gear. He had one larger than a football field.

  “The wound is healing.” She glided her finger over the remaining redness. “Did you get the stitches removed?”

  “I did it myself earlier.”

  “Figures.” She chuckled. “I’d argue that they weren’t ready to come out, but I’m a tad late.”

  “Your concern over my wound flatters me, but I’ve had worse and didn’t bother with stitches then.”

  “Always the tough guy, huh? It wouldn’t hurt to let someone care for you once in a while.”

  “I guess we all have something we need to work on.” He skimmed his hand lower until he came to the top of her bottom, pushing his limits slightly. Leaning closer, he nuzzled his nose in her silky locks, inhaling her.

  Feeling her fingers at the front of his shirt, she undid the top button, then the second. He sucked in a breath when her mouth fell to the exposed skin, darting her tongue out and licking his skin. He sucked in a breath and threaded his fingers through her hair, gently tugging her head back. She opened her eyes and he stared into sultry pools. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Please…” The word clung to an exhale of breath.

  He bent his head and pressed his lips to her full pout, sweeping his tongue along the smooth, delectable curve.

  A moan escaped her throat and he took it as an invitation and drove his tongue deeper, swirling around the sweet cave, tasting mint and beer. He planted kisses over the silken curve of jawline and followed the line of her throat. Licking her collarbone and along the low-cut neckline that exposed the tops of small mounds.

  He needed to touch and taste…

  Sliding the straps from her shoulders, the neckline drifted downward past her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard, inviting him to suck, which he wasted no time in sampling her precious offering. He whirled his tongue along the nub then suckled it until she moaned in deep pleasure. He gave the other pert bud attention too before he pushed the dress to her flat stomach.

  Goosebumps marred her pale flesh as he dipped his head, leaving a moist trail over rib cage and bellybutton. In one last tug, the material slipped past her slight hips until falling to her ankles. Sliding his thumb into her thong, he dragged it off and gave it a flip.

  Lifting her, he settled her on the table and drank in pink flesh.

  He made his way slowly downward along her breasts, stomach, his fingers digging into her inner thighs.

  “I want to taste your cream,” he whispered.

  Her fingers wound through his hair and nicked his scalp as another deep moan fell from her and sliced the air.

  ****

  He lowered his face between her legs and dipped his tongue into the crease. Arching her back, she quivered as he searched her every curve and contour, lapping her up. He spread her folds wider while his tongue swirled magic across her flesh.

  Lost in desire, she spread her legs and gyrated her hips. She was rewarded with his finger driving deep into her.

  Her inner thighs trembled with need and she stretched her arms above her head on the cool wood of the table. He brought her to the edge of physical release—she dangled at the precipice. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs in joy.

  Mercy me!

  Her toes curled.

  Deckland could knock her panties off, that is if she was wearing a pair. Her friends had talked about the G-spot orgasm—preached about it—but until now, she didn’t understand what sparked all the hysteria. Her nipples tingled, her pussy creamed and her belly swirled with a pleasure so intense she wanted to laugh.

  Biting her lip, she reminded herself giggles had no place in sex.

  Her breathing became shallow as she pumped her hips, riding his mouth, wallowing in taut pleasure until another orgasm exploded like sugary dynamite through her body, melting her bones.

  When the s
pasms slowed, she sat up. “Know what, cowboy?” He looked up at her and licked his lips, his eyes twinkling. The spasms between her legs started again. She fanned her face as a sweltering heat rose within her, setting her cells on fire. “Those jeans need to come off. Fast!”

  He stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his knuckles. “Damn, you taste good. I could get addicted.”

  Watching him with an indescribable hunger, he loosened the large buckle then pulled the leather free. The teeth of the zipper sliding downward echoed off her senses.

  With a slight lowering of the waistband, his erection popped up, standing steely straight—long and thick. Everything about him was huge—Texas style.

  A pearl of pre-cum glistened on the mushroom-shaped head and her mouth salivated. “Yee-haw, cowboy! I wanna ride.” He chuckled and pushed his jeans off his ankles.

  His eyes, pools of sparkling blue, became windows into his soul. Her heart skipped a beat. Her libido screamed in bittersweet agony, aching for him.

  “I love when you hold nothing back,” he said.

  Fireflies danced in her belly, spinning a web of frenzy. “You break all my chains.”

  “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

  Her brain cells were lazy as she searched her mind for words. “More than I’ve ever been.”

  “Right here?”

  “Now.” Reaching for him, she pulled him closer.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her against his chest, body against slick body, his full erection bobbing between them. She curved her hands up his sides and along his smooth back, feeling the tight, coiled muscles rippling under her fingers. She scraped her nails along his skin as his hand fisted in her hair, tipping her head to the side.

  “You’ve haunted my dreams longer than I care to admit.” His mouth came down, crushing her lips with his.

  He had a taste all his own—one she’d like to create in her baking. Better than any pie or cupcake she’d ever baked. Shivers of delight bounced across her nerve endings, her spine tingled with shards of electric and jetted straight to the tips of her toes.

  Some kiss!

  “I want to fill you. I want to make you mine.” His husky voice made her tremble.

  The tension grew like a strained rubber band and her blood rushed like a mad river to the apex of her thighs, pounding and throbbing.

  He cupped her bottom, his gaze held hers. Through the veil of her lashes she looked at him, his swollen lips still wet from her juices, which made her muscles tremble. His sky blue eyes penetrated through every layer she’d ever built and she didn’t doubt he had the ability to reach in and grab her soul.

  He touched her opening with his head, and she braced her feet on the edge.

  “Wait. One moment, sweetheart.” He reached down and grabbed something from his discarded jeans. She watched his tight ass move. He caught her and smiled, then held up the small packet. “I’m getting careless.”

  “Here, let me.” She took the package from him, ripped open the top and readied the condom with a shake of her wrist. “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted.

  “Just don’t poke a hole through it.”

  Carefully and with trembling fingers, she rolled the sheath over him. Protected and ready, he cupped her knees and spread her into a wide V.

  Positioning his body between her legs, she helped guide him to her quivering slit, feeling his head against her sensitive flesh. He gently spread her muscles, molding their bodies as one.

  The heat scorching her insides burned her alive. She was a five-alarm fire all wrapped up in her quaking body, and she was as close to heaven as she’d ever been. Every nook and cranny was a circus of need as an orgasm licked at her. A moan bubbled up into her throat.

  Dropping her hands to his tight ass, she squeezed and kneaded, holding him like leather reins as she bucked her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. His breathing became ragged and his movements tauter—she knew he was close.

  Grinding her hips in a circle, needles of pleasure rippled over her muscles, and she cried out in wonderment.

  “I—I can’t hold back any longer.” His deep voice penetrated the invisible fog that surrounded her.

  Burying himself deeper, he jerked and groaned. He lay against her for the longest time, neither saying anything. Words had no place in the contentment of their silence.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELSA WAS BENT over at the oven when instinct warned her she wasn’t alone.

  Looking over her shoulder, she caught Deckland watching her from the doorway. She smiled as a warm tingle spread through her. “Good evening, sexy. You were out on the ranch early this morning.” She’d woke up in his bed, alone, and a loneliness like no other had crawled its way into her conscious.

  “A new hand started this week and I’ve been walking him through the ropes, not that he needs much help. Something smells good.”

  She took the lasagna from the oven and set it on the stovetop. “I bet you were beginning to think the only thing I could bake is a cake. I thought I’d surprise you with my many other talents.”

  He scraped a hand down his face. “Man, you’re a woman with hidden gifts. Last night proved that.” With a wriggle of brows and a smile that could wet her panties, he kissed her on the cheek. Since that morning, she’d had a dire need for cowboy, specifically the one standing in front of her with sex appeal beyond words. She guessed they were on the same page from by the bulge behind his zipper.

  “Taste the pasta first and then let me know just how talented I am. Maybe we’ll have dessert in bed.” Biting back a chuckle, she loved how easy life was around Deckland. She was a different woman these days. He could certainly scrape away walls that had kept her isolated. He also helped her forget about a past marked with tears and pain.

  “I think that’s one helluva an idea. Care if I slip into the shower for a quick one? Otherwise, you might change your mind when you get a whiff of my hard day’s work.”

  “What makes you think that’s not a turn on?” She looked at him through her lashes. “But go ahead. I still have to make a salad and open the wine.”

  “Wine? Food? A promise for dessert in bed? Wow. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were seducing me.”

  “Well, Mr. Brooke, you do realize the way to a man’s heart is through his—” She dipped her gaze to his waist then back to his face “—well, let’s just say I know what you like.”

  Sweat beaded on his brow. “Keep that thought. I’ll be back.”

  Elsa watched him slip from the kitchen then started cutting vegetables when a knock came. Glancing through the window, she saw a man, cowboy hat low on his forehead, standing on the step. “Hello?” she said through the screen.

  “Hi there, ma’am. I’m Tucker, the new ranch hand.” He tipped his hat in greeting,

  “Come in. Deckland is in the shower.” Opening the door, she stepped back to let him pass. He was as big, if not bigger than Deckland. What did these men eat growing up?

  His gaze lowered and she realized she still held the butcher knife, unintentionally directed at him. “Should I come back?”

  “Sorry.” She quickly lowered the knife. “I’m fixing dinner. You’re welcome to wait. He’ll be down shortly.” Going back to the cutting board, she tossed the diced green pepper in with the lettuce.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait then. I have a question for the boss before I call it a day.” He removed his hat and held it against his chest. He had a kind face and gentle eyes. In fact, he reminded her of a younger Deckland.

  “Have a seat. You have to be tired after a long day on the ranch.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He slid out a chair and sat.

  “Ma’am is too formal. I’m Elsa.” She laid the knife down and tossed the salad.

  “Okay. Elsa then.” He smiled.

  “You look familiar.” She never forgot a face. “Didn’t you come into Elsa’s Fluff when I first opened? You were with a woman—a pretty redhead who bou
ght one of every cupcake. She seemed very nice.”

  His jaw tightened. “That was me, and my wife. I guess I should get used to calling her my ex-wife.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her cheeks warmed at her blunder.

  “Don’t be. Some things aren’t meant to be and my relationship with my ex was one of those things.”

  “I don’t want to come off as cruel, but you two seemed so happy, so in love.”

  He shrugged. “I thought we were too.”

  “I’m sure you hate talking about it.” She understood all too well how a broken relationship could leave scars.

  “I don’t mind talking, but not too many people care to listen. Discussion on divorce scares people, especially married folk. And I don’t want to spoil your evening with my sad story.”

  Reaching into the cabinet, she took down two crystal glasses. “What you need is a dose of liquid peace. Beer or wine?”

  “I’ll have a beer if I’m not breaking the rules of an employee. Deckland and I go way back and I’m getting used to calling him boss.”

  “As you should already know, Deckland is an awesome boss. And anyway, you have to wait for him.” She poured herself wine, grabbed him a beer then joined him at the table. “Her name was Hallie—Hannah—”

  “Hope.” He blinked.

  “Lovely name.”

  He nodded. “The name certainly doesn’t fit in this case. One day I woke up and she was gone.”

  “Without a goodbye?” Elsa sipped her wine.

  “Oh, she’d said goodbye several times, but she waited until she didn’t have to face me to take off.”

  ****

  Deckland was almost to the kitchen when he heard Elsa talking, followed by Tucker’s voice. He heard his friend mention Hope and Deckland realized they were talking about Tucker’s past relationship.

  Deciding it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be a part of, Deckland started to turn the other direction.

  “Deckland? Is that you?” Elsa called to him.

  Shit!

  He stepped into the kitchen. Tucker and Elsa were sitting at the table, she was holding a glass of wine and Tucker had a beer. So much for a romantic evening.