Dylan

by C. H. Admirand

  “I’d rather get thrown off Wildfire into a stand of cacti than be here tonight.”

  That thought led to another. “Maybe my back East lady would volunteer to pull the cactus spines from my wounded hide.”

  You’d better find that woman and make up with her.

  “Maybe I will.”

  Chapter 16

  Ronnie closed the book with a sigh. “I really love a great romance.” Setting the book on her shelf, she looked at the clock by her bed. “Not the first time I’ve read past midnight… won’t be the last.”

  Needing a breath of air, she headed downstairs and outside to sit on her front steps—not quite like back home, but close enough. Breathing deeply, she started to feel a little better. The air was warm and the stars were bright.

  The sound of someone calling her name had her looking up and recognizing Dylan’s truck driving toward her. Her heart lurched in her breast, beating double time, until she realized it wasn’t him when the driver turned and grinned. It was Jesse who waved and whistled at her.

  “Nice outfit, slim,” he called out as he drove by.

  Looking down, she saw what he must have: bare feet and a baggy shirt slipping off her shoulder—that was it.

  Her phone vibrated and she answered it.

  “Ronnie?”

  Dylan’s voice wrapped around her like a hug, but having spent the night reading a romance novel instead of wrapped in his arms, she held back the reaction screaming inside of her. “How’d you get my number?”

  The sharp intake of breath told her she’d hit her intended mark—payback was a bitch, but his reaction wasn’t quite what she expected. “Darlin’, I’ve surely missed your sassy mouth.”

  “Damn it, what do you want?” The man got to her on all levels, and she was afraid that if she didn’t disconnect the call soon, she’d start crying like a baby. A girl had her pride.

  The heartbeat of silence had her biting her tongue. When would she learn to control her temper?

  “Darlin’, you can kick and bite all you want, but you’re going to be in my bed tonight.”

  Her heart began to pound. “Maybe I’m not interested.”

  “Liar,” he rasped. “You know you want me as bad as I want you… I’m planning to make you crazy later. You’ll be screaming my name, wrapping your legs around my waist, and begging me to fill you.”

  The picture he painted was so real, so vivid, she had to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth. “Not gonna happen,” she rasped.

  “Wanna bet?” he asked. “Pack a bag, darlin’, ’cause when my shift’s over, I’m coming to pick you up.”

  “What shift?” The voices cheering in the background all sounded female. The light went on… someone was finally home. “Are you at the Lucky Star?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought your last night was a couple of days ago.” What was he doing back working for Jolene? Why didn’t he tell her? And why the hell should she care?

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  The devil in her bit out, “I’m busy.”

  But he didn’t answer her; he’d already disconnected.

  “Damn man,” she swore. “I’m not interested in him anymore.”

  Now what was she going to do? Walking back inside, she slammed her front door and mumbled, “Maybe I don’t want to see him again.”

  Looking down at her hands, she noticed they were trembling. “He’s right… I am a liar.”

  Heading upstairs, she went over her choices aloud. “I can stay here and be mad at the man who bruised my heart.” By the time she reached the top step, she added, “Or I could pack an overnight bag and be ready when he picks me up and waylay him with teeth and tongue.” She knew just where to touch to drive him up and over the peak into madness. “I could hold him hostage here until he admits he should have said good-bye earlier today.”

  Lighter in heart, she was already formulating her attack. “I think I’ll start with that sweet spot he has at the base of his neck and work my way along his collarbone until I can trace a path from the base of his throat to his navel.”

  Grinning, now that the plan was hers and not his, she sprinted down the hallway to her bedroom and threw a tote bag on her bed and tossed in jeans, underwear—super skimpy—and a skinny T-shirt.

  Then she headed to the shower and turned it to scald. She was going to be loose, limber, and ready when her man came to call.

  ***

  He looked across the room and met Jolene’s direct gaze. Damn. He’d given his word; he didn’t have a choice. With a slight nod toward the brown-haired woman standing stage front, Jolene confirmed what he’d feared. Damn. His back was tired and she was a big old girl. Suck it up, he told himself as he raised the rope over his head and began the smooth, circular motions necessary to work the rope. Satisfied with the motion, he let the rope fly. It landed around his target’s middle; he flicked his wrist and it tightened around her.

  Her surprised expression changed to one of pleasure. At least Jolene’d be happy that he’d made the birthday girl smile.

  Dylan finished his act and made a beeline for backstage. Dressed, he set his Stetson on his head and headed for the other side door. Looking to the left and then the right, he slipped out the door, grateful the crowd hadn’t made it around back yet. His world shifted toward normal as he spotted his truck, right where his brother promised he’d park it. “You can always count on a Garahan.”

  Driving over to Ronnie’s, he wondered if his little filly would be giving him a hard time or trying to get him hard. A shiver wracked his frame as anticipation lit a fire in his gut. He’d been afraid she wouldn’t speak to him after the way he’d let her leave the Circle G without saying good-bye. He knew she’d still be there and was sorry he’d acted like an ass. But he was ready to make it up to her, as soon as he kidnapped her and drove her back to the ranch. Then he’d have his way with her and convince her he was worth the effort to keep up with his temper and his moods.

  Mostly difficult moods, if his ex was to be believed. He thought he was a peach, but then again, he didn’t see anything wrong with waking up and punching one of his brothers before coffee. They were Garahans, they had tempers, they defused each other’s tempers. End of story.

  He pulled up in front of Ronnie’s shop and wondered what kind of reception he’d receive. He hadn’t given her a chance to say much on the phone. Walking to the door, he decided he would roll with whatever kind of mood she was in. He knocked twice and then let himself in. She knew he was coming, so he didn’t see any need to stand outside waiting.

  With his back to the room, he closed the door and heard someone on the stairs. He looked over his shoulder and just about swallowed his tongue. Ronnie stood on the stairs wearing next to nothing and his brain simply short-circuited.

  He didn’t remember moving, but then she was in his arms, nibbling his chin, sliding her tongue along the rim of his mouth before she tangled her tongue with his.

  “Ronnie, darlin’,” he whispered against her lips before sliding his hand down the length of her spine and molding her to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you,” he murmured against her lips. He was a fool to let his temper dictate his actions. She was his woman, his match in bed and out. Her temper more than matched his. How could he let anything get in the way?

  “I’m sorry I let you leave without saying good-bye.” He crushed her to him and lost himself in the honeyed sweetness of her lips. Anger forgotten, he gave in to the need that had been clawing at his gut all day. Blood racing, heart pounding, he deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, hands seeking her secret places, pushing her as close to the edge as he was.

  When she wrapped her legs around him, he gripped her thighs and sampled the side of her neck, inhaling the delicate scent that was uniquely hers. “I have a fierce temper.”

  Ronnie sighed and tilted her head farther to the side, allowing him to nibble on the tendon, eliciting tiny moans from her luscious lips. “Forgive me?”

/>   ***

  Ronnie couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Her plan was going awry. She wanted to be in charge, she wanted to call the shots, but his wicked lips were wrecking havoc with her heart and messing with her mind.

  “Just tell me what you want, darlin’.” His lips blazed a trail over her heart and between her breasts. “And I’ll make it happen.”

  His vow released the words she’d hidden in her heart after he’d left her hanging at the ranch. “Love me, Dylan,” she cried out as his lips toyed with her breast before pulling it into his mouth. “I need you to love me.”

  He released her breast and reared back, nostrils flaring, eyes dark and compelling. “Don’t let go.”

  Her head felt light, her voice nonexistent, but she managed to nod. He brushed a hand across her thong-clad backside, making her squirm in anticipation. She wanted him deep inside of her.

  Dylan bent his head and traced the outside edge of her ear with the tip of his tongue. The rasp of his zipper had her shivering again, but she needed her brain to work, she needed to be sure he protected her.

  “Help me,” he whispered, tracing his tongue along the line of her cheek, while walking toward the wall and leaning her against it.

  “How?”

  “Lock your legs and lift your sweet backside, so I can cover myself and protect you.”

  Heart in her throat, she tensed her thighs and lifted, and Dylan groaned.

  “Darlin’, you’re killing me.”

  “But—”

  She felt his hands moving, brushing against her sensitized backside as he opened the foil packet and covered himself.

  “Ease up, darlin’.”

  Legs shaking, she did as he bid, loosening her hold on him but not letting go, even when a cramp settled itself in her left butt cheek. She sucked in a breath but rode through the pain.

  His lips found hers as his hands instinctively found the knotted muscled and massaged it loose. With a deft touch, he lowered her and slid all the way home.

  She arched back to take more of him. He held on to her hips with a grip of iron as he pulled back and then plunged again. He picked up speed as his lips traced a path along the line of her jaw. She gave herself over to the magic of his mouth and hands, reveling in the strength of him, the rigid length of him, and was rewarded with a mind-melting orgasm that stole her breath.

  But Dylan didn’t stop; he slid in and out of her, increasing his pace, adding to the tension building inside of her. A low, throaty moan of ecstasy fueled her passion, pushing her closer to the edge.

  She clamped her legs around him with all of her strength and grabbed ahold of his muscled backside, urging him to take all, to give all. His hoarse shout of triumph sent her spiraling into oblivion with him.

  “Darlin’, you’ve got to let me go.”

  “Mmmm…” Deliciously languid warmth filled her. “No.”

  “My legs have about three seconds before they give out,” he warned as he eased out of her and swayed, and nearly lost his grip.

  Reality intruded… the bitch. “Sorry,” she murmured. Placing her lips to his pounding heart, she uncrossed her ankles and let her legs glide down the long length of him, brushing against denim as she did, reminding her that he couldn’t even wait to take his pants all the way off before he made love to her. “You are lethal.” She locked her arms around him when he teetered toward her. “Lean on me.”

  His weight shifted and she braced herself, laughing. God, it felt good to laugh. “I didn’t think you’d lean all of your weight on me.”

  He moaned. “You drain me dry, tell me I can lean on you, and then change your mind?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Drain me dry?” He chuckled. “Darlin’, it’s gonna take some time to refuel and reload.”

  “I mean I didn’t change my mind.” Her gaze met his and she welcomed the passion, encouraged the desire, and hoped he felt a fraction of what she felt for him.

  “I’m only giving you half my weight.” The devil gave her his full weight and toppled them toward the floor.

  “Dylan!”

  At the last moment, he turned them and took the brunt of the fall on his back. The whoosh of air told her it wasn’t a pain-free landing.

  “Are you all right?” Worry had her tracing her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, trying to reach his back.

  “If you move ’em just a little bit lower, I’d be much obliged, ma’am.”

  The girlish giggle sounded foreign to her ears. “You, sir, are making fun of me.”

  “Not on your life, darlin’. I’ve got this cramp—”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She sat up and his low moan told her more than words. “Just where is this, uh, cramp?”

  His gaze locked with hers and his slid his hands down to cup her cheeks. “You’re sitting on it.”

  She bent down and nipped him the chin. “I thought you needed to refuel before reloading.”

  “Kiss me, darlin’, so I can refuel.”

  Ronnie wasn’t sure she believed him. “You can’t possibly have anything left inside.”

  “My heart’s so full right now, darlin’, it’ll last a lifetime.”

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled down over her cheeks onto his forehead.

  “Ronnie, darlin’,” he whispered, “don’t do that.” He shifted her to his lap, sat up, and cradled her to his chest.

  Words caught in her throat, but they weren’t necessary. She wrapped her arms around him and let his gift of love pour through her. Oh, he hadn’t said the words yet, but he came close… so awfully close.

  For now, it was enough.

  Chapter 17

  “Are we going to sleep on the floor all night?”

  The comforting sound of Dylan’s voice rumbling beneath her left ear woke her. “Depends on whether or not you’re going to be rolling over any time soon.”

  His chuckle was music to her ears and should have been her warning. “I’m thinking about it—right now.”

  She squealed with laughter as he yanked her closer and rolled until she was beneath him.

  “Interesting position,” he murmured kissing her forehead, nose, and chin. “But I was serious about you in my bed. I want to wake up with you at the Circle G.”

  “I already slept with you at the ranch.”

  He brushed his lips across her cheekbone. “Ah, but that was to satisfy my need to make love with you beneath the stars on Garahan land.”

  She watched him closely, waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, she frowned up at him. “You aren’t kidding?”

  “About which part? You in my bed or you beneath the stars?”

  “The part where we’re on your land.”

  “Goes without saying, darlin’. We Garahans are proud of what we’ve made. My brothers and I have been struggling lately, but we’re hanging on to what our great-great-grandparents built with everything we’ve got. We’ll do anything to save the Circle G.”

  “I know how you feel,” she whispered, stroking the strong line of his jaw with the tips of her fingers. “I’ve put everything I had into this business, and I don’t intend to run scared because some teenager trashed my store. Pleasure’s where I live now… I’m staying… and I’m fighting back.”

  Her gaze met his and she saw that he understood. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Mavis asked me to compete in the rodeo to help raise money for the town. I hadn’t planned on competing again, it’s been awhile, but for Mavis and to earn my place in this town, I’m riding.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve been on a horse?”

  “Too long.” Running her hands along the breadth of his shoulders, she sighed. “Your strength is one of the first things that hooked me.”

  He pressed his hands flat on either side of her head and rose up on his toes. In pushup position, he lifted himself up and then lowered himself until his lips were a breath away from hers. “Is that a fact?”

  Her breath snagged in
her lungs; it was work, because the man drove her to distraction, but she focused so that she could exhale and then draw in a much needed lungful of air.

  Turning her head to the side, she stared at his hand. “You have the most intriguing scars. Is there a story behind all of them?”

  “Funny thing about a bow saw,” he began only to be interrupted by her.

  “Are you making that up? I’ve never heard of a bow saw.”

  “No,” he grumbled, “I’m not. Now where was I?”

  She clamped her lips together and waited for him to continue.

  “When you’re holding the wood still, make sure to move your hand out of the way of the blade, or you’ll run the teeth of the saw right over it.”

  She shuddered. “That had to hurt.”

  He leaned all of his weight on one arm and lifted his hand to examine it. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Thought I’d cut it clear down to the bone, but the good news was that the blade wasn’t all that sharp.”

  She knew she should say something, but the man was deliberately teasing her, testing her, by doing one-arm pushups. When she was able to make her mouth work concurrently with her brain, she asked, “So it didn’t cut too deep?”

  “No,” he answered. “But it was a ragged mess. Tore the skin up real bad.”

  An echo of his pain lanced through her and had her reaching for his hand. The crosshatch of lines confirmed his story. “How old were you?”

  He lowered himself to within an inch and lined up their lips. “Does it matter?”

  The desire churning in his eyes warmed her from the inside out. “Yeah,” she whispered, tracing his lips with the tip of her finger. “It’s a part of what made you the man you are today.”

  He opened his mouth and sucked her finger into the velvety warmth. The movement of his lips and tongue mesmerized her and had an answering pull tugging at her core. Her body knew what it wanted: Dylan. But could she keep him? She closed her eyes. He wasn’t a lost puppy; he was a man.

  He brushed against her as he shifted, redistributing his weight. Opening her eyes slowly, she watched him rein himself in, banking the fires of passion burning brightly inside of him.