The Rebel and the Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 2)

by Sarah Mayberry

  Then he lowered his head and licked along the seam of her intimate flesh, his tongue firm and hot and wet. Sensation rocketed through her and she moaned shamelessly because it felt so good.

  “Fuck. Knew you’d taste amazing,” he murmured, coming back for more.

  His shoulders pressed her thighs wider as he scooped his hands under her butt to control her hips. Then his mouth was on her, and the world fell away. There was nothing but the delicious pressure of his tongue as he licked and sucked her most sensitive, delicate flesh. He consumed her—there was no other word for it—his mouth open and eager, leaving her no place to hide, stripping her of any illusion of control or dignity.

  She was lost, ruined, devastated, hands clenched in his hair, back arched, breathing ragged. Pleasure wrapped itself around her and squeezed until she was pleading with him for release, unable to take any more.

  And then he gave her what she needed and she was sobbing through one of the most intense climaxes she’d ever experienced, her whole body shuddering with the force of her release.

  He didn’t let up until he’d wrung the final moan from her, and she didn’t need to see his face to know he was feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

  Sure enough, he was smiling like a marauding conqueror when he lifted his head, shifting so his weight was supported on his elbows.

  “How are we doing? Still with me?” he said.

  She eyed him through heavy, half-closed eyes, her body limp with satisfaction. “Barely took the edge off,” she lied.

  “Better step up my game, then.”

  She watched as he sat back on his heels and collected a condom from the pocket of his jeans. His gaze moved from her wide-spread thighs to her flushed face as he tore the foil packet open and rolled the condom slowly down over himself. Watching him handle himself was nothing short of mesmerizing, his fist stroking down the length of his shaft one of the hottest things she’d ever seen.

  “Roll over,” he said.

  She hesitated a moment, tempted yet again to defy him just to see what he’d do. Then she thought about how hard he was and how ready she was and she rolled over and pushed herself up onto her knees, presenting him with her backside.

  “Very nice,” he said. Then he surprised her with a single, firm slap on the butt.

  “Hey.”

  She was about to tell him she was not into pain with her pleasure, but then she felt the hot, hard press of his cock at her entrance, and a moment later it was all she could do to keep breathing as he seated himself deep inside her.

  “You feel so good,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl.

  He started to move, withdrawing from her in a smooth slide before returning to fill her once again. It felt so right, so perfect, she rested her head on her clenched fists and closed her eyes and gave herself over to him.

  He pumped into her over and over, smoothing a hand along her spine and up to the nape of her neck, then back down again. She pushed back against his thrusts, finding his rhythm, urging him on. Tension spiraled through her, pleasure building with each firm, hard stroke inside her.

  She was already close when he slid a hand between her legs, finding her with his clever fingers. She made an approving sound and spread her thighs wider, tilting her hips to provide him with even greater access. He took her encouragement and ran with it, increasing the pace until the only sound in the small space was the slap of his skin on hers and their mutual panting.

  And then she lost track of everything as her body was racked with intense, throbbing pleasure. She was aware of Casey shuddering into his own release, his grip tightening on her hips as he held himself deep inside her, his body hard as steel as he bowed over her for long, drawn-out seconds.

  When it was over, she flopped onto her belly, ruined yet again by a cowboy with clever hands and, it turned out, an even more clever mouth. She was conscious of him hitting the mattress beside her, and she cracked her eyes open to see if he was as destroyed as she was. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his head, eyes closed, cheeks flushed. His chest rose and fell as he fought to catch his breath.

  She allowed herself a small, slightly smug smile—she’d done that to him.

  His eyes flickered open, his focus quickly sharpening when he realized she was watching him.

  “See anything you like?” he asked, echoing her earlier words.

  “A few things spring to mind.”

  He smiled lazily. “Give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.”

  She shivered, her body cooler now that the first flush of desire had faded, and he reached down and pulled the covers over both of them.

  “Better?”

  “Thanks.”

  He closed his eyes again, arms crossed behind his head now, and she allowed herself the small pleasure of admiring his handsome features. He’d be a pleasure to draw, his body full of intriguing dips and curves, his face beautifully masculine.

  And yes, that was totally a thing.

  “I can feel you staring at me,” he said without opening his eyes.

  “I’m thinking about how pretty you are.”

  “It’s my skin regimen. I exfoliate religiously.”

  He was so deadpan she cracked up laughing, and suddenly she couldn’t hold back the question that was at the forefront of her mind.

  “Why are you single?” she asked.

  His eyes opened and he looked at her. “Is that some kind of trick question?”

  “No trick. Just curious. You’re pretty. You play the guitar. You’re funny. Your body is…well, you know. And you’re passably proficient at sex,” she said. “So why hasn’t one of the good women of Marietta pinned you down yet?”

  “Passably proficient? You’re gonna pay for that, you know that, right?” he said with a lazy smile.

  She reached out to poke him in the ribs. “Answer the question.”

  “There is no answer. I had a girlfriend a few years ago. There wasn’t enough between us to keep us together, so we broke up and there hasn’t been anyone else serious since. That’s about it.”

  He shrugged. She studied his face.

  “That’s it, really?”

  “Sure. Plus there’s my perverse sexual tastes. It takes a very particular type of depraved woman to satisfy me, and once word got around town, it was slim pickings. Until you showed up.” Again, he was so matter-of-fact she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Lucky me.”

  “Funny, I’ve been feeling pretty lucky myself.”

  A quick glance down his body told her he’d had enough recovery time. Determined to make the most of this night of self-indulgence, she shifted closer and threw her leg over his hips. Using her knees for leverage, she shifted so her body was lying on top of his, breast to chest, hip to hip.

  His eyebrows rose in surprise, but his hands landed warmly on her backside, holding her in place.

  “So the interrogation is over?” he asked, lifting his hips to increase the pressure between them.

  “Yes.”

  Then she kissed him and stopped thinking about anything except how good he made her feel.

  *

  Casey woke with his arms full of warm woman.

  The last thing he remembered was slipping into darkness, his body heavy with satisfaction after he and Eva had made each other crazy a third time. She’d collapsed beside him on the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes, and he’d gone to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, turning the light out on his way back to the bed. Then he’d stretched out beside her and closed his eyes for what he’d thought would be a few minutes.

  That had been a mistake, obviously, because his internal clock told him it was now early in the morning, maybe four or five.

  He hadn’t intended to stay the night. After the way things had ended last time, that had seemed like the smart way to play it. And yet here he was, with Eva plastered to the side of his body, her head on his chest, her arm around his waist, one slim leg tangled with his.

  He
hadn’t figured her for a snuggler. She clearly didn’t mind getting up close and personal when pleasure was on the agenda, but she was so fiercely independent, so determined, he’d figured she was more of a sprawled-starfish-don’t-touch-me-I’m-sleeping type person than a spooner. But apparently not, because there was nothing standoffish about the way she was welded to his side.

  It had been a while since he’d shared a bed with another warm body for anything other than sex. Not through active choice, it had just worked out that way. He’d broken up with his last girlfriend, Annie, two years ago, and even though there had been a few women he’d dated briefly in that time, none of them had clicked for him.

  He didn’t know what he was looking for, he just knew he hadn’t found it yet.

  Not that he’d been looking too hard. Truthfully, Eva was the first woman in a long time to really grab his attention. He didn’t know what it was about her that got him going, but she did, and he knew himself well enough to understand he was on the precipice of doing something stupid if he allowed himself to savor this quiet, intimate moment too much. He might not talk much, but he was a songwriter and a musician, and he’d done a fair amount of navel-gazing in his time. He knew he wasn’t built for casual sex, that he preferred to really connect with the person sharing his bed.

  He also knew that while Eva might have unconsciously sought closeness from him in her sleep, she was not seeking it in her waking life. She was in town for one reason only, and even if she won the commission, she’d only be here for a handful of weeks, max.

  Plus she was fresh out of what sounded like a pretty shitty relationship.

  Two strikes. If he wanted another one, he could throw in the fact that her life was located in the LA art scene, too.

  In short, there was zero chance of anything serious happening between them. Zero, nada, zilch.

  So the smart thing to do right now would be to carefully disengage from her embrace and ease his way from her bed. Doing so would ensure that they both understood exactly what this was—and, equally, what it wasn’t.

  Beside him, Eva stirred, her grip tightening across his torso. He listened to her breathing for a moment as he tried to decide what to do. He could smell her shampoo, something beach-y and coconut-y. He could feel the warmth of her exhalations against his chest. His arm was wrapped around her back, his hand resting on the roundness of her shoulder.

  One of the things he loved about her body was its inherent contradictions. She was slight, but strong, her arms and legs toned and subtly muscled, and while she was slim-hipped and small-breasted, her nipples were exquisitely sensitive, and he loved the way she squirmed and moaned when he teased them.

  He could feel himself getting hard again, which wasn’t going to help anything. He needed to go, not find a way to draw this encounter out any further.

  Carefully he lifted the shoulder supporting her head, hoping she might pick up on the subtle signal. She stirred, but didn’t shift, and he was forced to use his free hand to lift hers from where it was clamped across his belly and return it to her side. Next he slipped his leg from beneath hers. Then—finally—he gently eased away from her, sliding his shoulder from beneath her head in slow increments. She murmured a protest but didn’t wake, and he scooted to the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes.

  There was enough moonlight leaking through the curtains to find his jeans, and he pulled them on, then pushed his feet into his boots. His T-shirt was harder to find, and he finally gave in and pulled out his phone, switching the flashlight function on for long enough to see it crumpled on the floor, halfway to the door.

  He scooped it up, then tugged it on and turned to consider Eva. She was still deeply asleep, her arm flung out across the empty bed now. He was reluctant to leave her, which was exactly why he needed to. Forcing himself to turn away, he moved as quietly as he could to the door and let himself out of the trailer. He walked briskly up to the house, slipping in via the kitchen door. Even though it made him feel like a teenager, he paused long enough to ease off his boots, then made his way to his bedroom in his socks. Such was the price of privacy when you lived with two siblings, one of whom would be more than happy to make dissecting his private life her entertainment should he be stupid enough to hand her the opportunity.

  He stripped and climbed into bed, but after five minutes of lying in the dark, he realized his brain was too busy to let him sleep. It was too early to consider getting a head start on the day, so he settled for flicking on the beside lamp and pulling out his song journal.

  He ran an eye over the song he’d jotted down after dinner, half expecting it to suck, but was pleasantly surprised to realize it was okay. Good, even. Propped up on one elbow, he read over the few lyrics he’d written down and instantly knew what came next. His hand sped over the page as he channeled his half-formed thoughts and feelings. It was light outside when the distant flush of a toilet roused him from his journal.

  He was itching to pick up his guitar and see if he’d nailed the song, and he figured that if one of his siblings was up already, the other wouldn’t be far behind. He grabbed his guitar and sat naked on the edge of his bed to pick out the new chorus he’d written. He tweaked a note or two, then played the whole thing from beginning to end. As he’d hoped, it was good, but there was something missing still. He tried a couple of ideas before setting his guitar down.

  He couldn’t keep his brother and sister waiting while he indulged himself.

  His head felt clearer, despite the lack of sleep, and he was feeling at peace with the world in general as he dressed and headed out to the kitchen. Sierra and Jed were at the table eating waffles, and Sierra wordlessly pointed him in the direction of the jug of batter on the counter so he could make his own.

  “What time do the Shots start tomorrow night?” she asked as he poured batter into the waffle maker.

  “Eight, same as usual,” Casey said.

  “I was thinking of bringing Eva along, if she’s interested,” Sierra said.

  Casey shot her a look, checking to see if she was fishing, but she was busy dabbing at some spilled syrup on her jeans. Most likely she was just being friendly, worrying that Eva would be lonely because she didn’t know anyone locally.

  He checked on the progress of his breakfast and used a fork to flip two golden brown waffles onto a plate. Then he loaded them up with syrup and joined his brother and sister at the table.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about Eva coming to watch the Shots play. A little nervous, but also kind of excited.

  Maybe even a little proud that she’d get to see the Shots doing their thing.

  You don’t need to impress her. And even if you do, it’s not going to change anything. She’s still going to leave.

  Casey stared at his plate, troubled by the fact that he had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

  “I’ll go saddle the horses,” Jed said, pushing back his chair and draining the last of his coffee. They were checking the fences today, a time-consuming task that had to be done regularly to ensure they didn’t lose stock.

  “Two minutes and I’ll be with you,” Casey said, shoveling waffle into his mouth.

  Sure enough, a minute later he was rinsing his plate in the sink before sliding it into the dishwasher. Then he went to brush his teeth, very deliberately pushing all thoughts of Eva King out of his mind, where they belonged.

  *

  Eva woke from deep sleep to the sound of a horse whinnying. For a wild moment she forgot where she was, and then memory came flooding back—Marietta, Dane, the grain elevator, Casey.

  She lifted her head, suddenly very awake, but the bed was empty beside her.

  Huh. She hadn’t heard Casey leave last night, she’d been so deeply asleep. And obviously he’d decided against waking her to say goodbye.

  Thoughtful of him. But Casey was thoughtful, as well as generous, sexy and very, very thorough.

  She grinned suddenly, remembering the way he’d teased her with that word last ni
ght. He hadn’t simply been bragging, either—she’d had no idea another human being could make her feel so good. It wasn’t as though she was a shrinking violet when it came to sexual matters, either. She’d had her fair share of lovers—but none of them had ever made her lose her mind the way Casey had.

  She didn’t know what it was about him that got her so wound up. The intuitive way he touched her, maybe? He just seemed to know what she needed, giving it to her exactly the way she wanted it.

  And the way he’d gone down on her last night… Holy hell, he had destroyed her.

  She made an impatient noise and threw back the covers. She didn’t have time to wallow in sensual memories, she had a kick-ass proposal to pull together.

  She showered and ate a granola bar for breakfast, then grabbed her laptop, camera, and phone and jumped in Big Bertha. Ten minutes later she was approaching the turnoff from the highway, but the sight of a shiny black SUV and a bright yellow cherry picker parked in front of the grain elevator made her hesitate.

  Dane.

  Ugh.

  She put her foot on the gas, speeding past the exit, her stomach churning with a sudden injection of acid.

  Damn it. She should have guessed Dane would be doing the same sort of groundwork as her, checking out the site more thoroughly, trying to get a firmer grip on the parameters of the job. The difference was that he had the resources to do it properly. She’d give a lot to be able to inspect the grain elevator’s weathered timbers up close to confirm her best guesses regarding the kind of preparation work she’d need to do, but there was no way she could afford to hire a cherry picker for the day.

  She told herself it didn’t matter. She’d come back later, when he was gone, and do what she could from the ground. And she’d make sure that every other aspect of her proposal was spot on. She’d always been the one to do the background research and leg work on his projects, and she was as sure as she could be that Dane wouldn’t be taking on the task personally himself now. He was too big for that, too important. He’d probably send Zack along to make some token enquiries and pull a few books from the library.