“Wow, Sierra, tell me how you really feel,” he said.
“Casey, she told me tonight she’s officially burned once and twice shy, or something like that. She also said she’s not in the market to meet someone.”
“I know that.”
“And yet here you are in your socks with your boots in your hand.”
“You really want me to explain casual sex to you?”
Sierra shook her head. “Nope. You don’t do casual.”
He frowned. “What would you know about that?”
“I’m your sister. I know you better than almost anyone. You write poetry, for Pete’s sake. I get that Eva is sexy as all get-out and pretty much the coolest person either of us has ever met, but she is going to chew you up and spit you out.”
He’d heard more than enough.
“Okay, thanks. Glad we had this chat,” Casey said, turning toward the door.
“I’m saying this because I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”
“How about you concentrate on your own shit for a change,” he said, his back well and truly up now. He was not a country yokel, bumbling his way through his first romance and he resented the implication he was. “Maybe if you had more going on in your own life you wouldn’t be so busy sticking your nose into mine.”
Sierra flinched but he didn’t have it in him to regret his words. Not yet, anyway.
“And I write songs,” he said on his way out the door. “Not poetry.”
“Same difference, dickhead,” Sierra called after him. “And don’t expect sympathy from me when she rips your heart out and feeds it to you for breakfast.”
Casey rolled his eyes as he strode toward his room. This was exactly why he’d kept his nights with Eva on the down low in the first place. There weren’t many times he resented sharing a house with his siblings, but this was definitely one of them.
He threw his boots into the corner when he got to his room, not caring about the clatter. Almost immediately he felt like a five-year-old for letting his temper get the better of him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he scrubbed his face with his hands.
She is going to chew you up and spit you out.
He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. He did not need his sister’s ominous predictions to tell him he was in over his head with Eva—he’d known that from the moment he met her. It hadn’t stopped him from wanting to be with her, and Sierra’s warning wasn’t going to change his mind either. He wasn’t going to miss out on being with the most exciting, sexy, challenging woman he’d ever met because he was scared. Fuck that noise.
And if he was left gutted when she left, he’d make sure the only person who knew about it was him and his music journal, because he was twenty-eight years old, not a little kid.
*
Eva worked till her eyes were gritty and her back ached from hunching over the computer keyboard. By the time she turned off the light, she’d created a regional map for herself with as many abandoned grain elevators marked on it as she could discover through cross-referencing local history sites, Instagram feeds, and other social media. She suspected she’d missed a few, and that some she had listed might have been demolished for safety reasons since they’d been documented, but she still had a list of more than twenty elevators to work with when she was done. Surely out of all of those she could find a handful of communities who’d like to work with her to turn an eyesore into a feature.
Surely.
She went to bed with hope in her heart and woke feeling lighter than she had in months. She worked all day on finessing her proposal document, tweaking the wording and layout until she was satisfied she’d conveyed her vision in the best way possible. She had several studies in her sketchbook by then, and spread them all out on the bed and spent an hour considering the merits of various ideas before settling on her final three.
By then she was so sick of her self-imposed solitary confinement, she decided to take a break to clear her head before breaking out her good cartridge paper and her airbrush to start on her final studies. Pushing her feet into her Chuck Taylors without bothering with socks, she emerged into the day and stood blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight.
“Hello, world,” she said, feeling like a bear who had been hibernating for winter.
Rolling her head on her neck, she walked toward the house, then changed her mind at the last moment and veered right into the corral, climbing through the post and rail fence. Several horses at the far end lifted their heads to consider her and she stopped in her tracks, wondering if they were going to object to her presence. What she knew about horses could fill the back of a postage stamp. Were they like bulls, territorial and inclined to defend that territory? Should she be worried right now?
For a long moment, she and the horses considered each other, then the animals lowered their heads and went back to cropping grass, their tails swishing lazily.
Feeling like an idiot, she crossed the corral, slipping through the fence again and out into open land.
The Gallatin Mountains formed a hazy blue-green ridge to her right, and Copper Mountain rose on her left, its sides blue and purple in the afternoon light. She walked for a few minutes, long enough to get her blood flowing and clear her head. Then she stopped and simply looked around herself, taking a moment to absorb the natural beauty of her surroundings—the tall trees in the distance, the endless blue sky, the vast swathe of open land that spread before her. A warm breeze lifted her hair and made her T-shirt billow, and she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and let the sun warm her face.
What an amazing place. And Casey had grown up here, breathing in this air, working this land. It was so different from the concrete and congestion she’d grown up with, it blew her mind.
After a few minutes, her thoughts drifted back to work. She was happy with her progress today. If she could nail the final studies by tomorrow, she’d have a whole day left to rehearse her presentation and iron out any bugs.
Her hands flexed by her sides, itching to get back to work, and she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Okay, back to it. Hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans, she turned back.
The horses gave her another disinterested once-over as she traversed their corral, and she glanced at the main house before turning toward the barn and returning to the Airstream. There was no sign of Casey, which was probably just as well, because she had trouble concentrating when he was around.
She got lost in her work after that, and the day quickly turned to night. She was rummaging among her groceries, trying to decide between more instant noodles or egg on toast when she heard footsteps outside. Sure enough, a knock soon sounded and she opened the door to find Casey standing there, a pizza box in hand.
“Thought you might need dinner,” he said.
“You’re a mind reader. Come in.”
Casey stepped up into the trailer, and as always, the space seemed to contract. He glanced at the bed, which was strewn with her art supplies.
“Maybe we should eat outside?”
“Another excellent idea,” she agreed.
He took the pizza outside, and she stopped to grab two beers from the fridge and a couple of paper napkins. There was only her one camping chair, and Casey gestured for her to take it.
“I’ll sit on the steps,” he explained.
“You take the seat, I’ll take the steps. You’re the guest. And you already brought the food,” she said.
Casey looked as though he wanted to argue, but he shrugged a shoulder and sat, flipping the lid on the box and offering the first slice to her.
“Oh my God, please tell me that’s hot salami,” she said, her mouth watering like crazy.
“Mild. Wasn’t sure if you could handle hot, but next time I’ll know better,” he said.
She took a bite of pizza and made happy noises. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw that box in your hands,” she admitted.
He was silent for a moment, chowing down on h
is own slice. Then he cleared his throat and looked at her.
“So you know, Sierra was in the kitchen when I came back to the house last night.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well, that was probably bound to happen, considering.”
“Yeah. How did your work go today?” he asked, clearly done with the subject.
For the next twenty minutes they discussed their respective days and ate pizza. She learned he’d spent the day inspecting the various automatic waterers situated around the ranch, checking if the problem he’d found with one unit recently was an isolated incident, and she told him about the map she’d made last night, and the new details she’d added to her proposal after his suggestion.
“Sounds like you’re on track to kick ass,” Casey said, wiping his hands on a napkin and washing the last of his pizza down with a mouthful of beer. “You want the last piece?”
Eva eyed the remaining slice, seriously tempted, then shook her head.
“I think I’m done. I’ll only regret it later if eat it.”
“Then get over here,” Casey said, patting his lap.
“Please,” she prompted him.
“You don’t have to beg, baby,” he said, giving her one of his devastating smiles, and she couldn’t help laughing at his cockiness.
“That’s not funny. Just so you know,” she told him.
“Made you laugh,” he said.
There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she went and did as instructed, perching on his knees. His arm came around her, drawing her closer so that her shoulder was leaning against his chest. Then he tilted her chin up and kissed her, and it was so exactly what she’d been waiting for that she simply clung to him and kissed him back.
He tasted of beer, fresh and malty, and when his hand slid beneath her T-shirt to cup her breast she made an approving noise and marveled at how he always seemed to know exactly what to do to make her feel good. Between his kisses and what he was doing to her breast, it wasn’t long before she was a panting, needy mess, desperate for more.
“Come inside,” she said.
“You all done with your work? I don’t want to set you back. I know how much you’ve got riding on this thing.”
There was no doubting his sincerity, despite the fact that she was sitting on the hot, hard evidence of his arousal. She forced herself to think beyond her own desire and genuinely consider his question.
“I probably need another hour or two,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Then why don’t I come back at ten?”
“Sounds good to me.” She squirmed a little, almost too embarrassed to ask the question in her mind. “Any, um, instructions for me?”
He went still for a moment, and she saw the flare of desire in his eyes.
“You like that, do you?” he asked. “Me telling you what to do?”
“Turns out I do,” she said.
He laughed. “All right, then. No clothes, blindfolded, legs spread. Got it?”
“A blindfold? What is this, the red trailer of pain?” she scoffed, even though the idea secretly excited her.
“Do it,” he said. Then he lifted her off him and stood. “Or else.”
She snorted out a laugh, but there was no denying the anticipation thrumming through her body.
“We’ll see,” she said.
He gave her a knowing smile before kissing her briefly. Then he collected the pizza box and disappeared around the corner.
It took her nearly twenty minutes to calm down enough to concentrate on completing the first of the three studies she planned to present to the committee. By then it was nearly ten, and she had time for a quick shower before she made her way to the bed.
She rummaged in her duffel bag, finally settling on the sash from her bathrobe as a suitable blindfold. Climbing onto the bed, she tied it over her eyes, then lay down and spread her legs for Casey as instructed, leaving the light on this time because she knew he liked it that way.
She imagined what he’d see when he arrived—her body stretched out on the bed, her nipples already hard, her pussy exposed, her eyes blindfolded.
A willing sacrifice, desperate for his touch.
She drew in a shuddering breath, trying to keep a grip on her own need. Never in her life had she imagined she could be so turned on by just the idea of a man and what he might do to her, the pleasures he might bring to her.
She almost sobbed with gratitude when she heard his boots on the gravel path outside. He didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door and stepped inside. She knew the exact moment he saw her displayed for him, his sharp intake of breath loud in the small space.
“Do you have any idea how good you look right now?” he asked, and she heard the clink of his belt opening, followed by the almost imperceptible hiss of his fly.
“Tell me what you see,” she said.
There was a small pause then something hit the floor. His jeans, she hoped. He moved closer to the bed and she imagined him surveying her, taking in everything that was on offer.
“I see smooth legs, and soft, creamy thighs. I see two perfect tits, with sweet, pink little nipples that are nice and hard for me. And I see this.”
Her hips jerked instinctively as he stroked between her legs, his touch sure and firm as he glided through the slick folds of her sex.
“I see how ready you are for me. Do you want me to fuck you, Eva?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you want my mouth or my cock?”
“Your cock. Now.”
“Are you sure?” He stroked his fingers through her folds again, pausing to slide a finger inside her this time. “You don’t want me to kiss you down here again?”
“Oh, God,” she moaned, lifting her hips, practically on the edge of coming just from a few brief touches. “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely…”
She felt him come over her then, felt the strength of his thighs as they came between hers, then the heat of his belly and chest against her torso. She held her breath, expecting him to enter her then, but instead his mouth closed over one of her nipples. Pleasure pierced her, tightening her sex, and she arched her back, her hands gripping his shoulders.
“Stop teasing, you bastard,” she panted, even though she was loving every moment.
He responded by swapping to her other nipple, sucking and licking until she was sure she was about to come. She was trembling on the edge of release when he finally stroked into her, filling her with welcome, brutal hardness, stretching her and pushing her into a gasping, breathless climax.
Casey kept stroking into her as she fell apart around him, his thrusts almost frenzied, and she realized he was wildly turned on by her arousal, that her pleasure, her getting off, was the ultimate aphrodisiac for him.
He came quickly, his body shuddering into hers, his breath hot on her neck. For a few seconds, his full weight bore down on her, then he started to lift himself. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, halting his retreat.
“Don’t,” she said. “Not yet.”
He let his weight come onto her again, and she listened to him breathe and felt the percussion of his heart as it banged against his chest wall. She felt the heated dampness of his skin, and smelled his aftershave and her own deodorant and the musky, earthy scent of sex, and she consciously savored the closeness, the intimacy of the moment.
It was one thing to have sex with someone, to allow a man inside her body, but it was another thing entirely to feel this sense of connection with another human being.
The way she felt when she was with Casey—the way he made her feel—was both rare and precious, and she wanted the moment to last forever.
But life didn’t work like that, and after a moment or two he stirred again.
“I’m too heavy.”
This time she let him go, reaching up to pull her blindfold off so she could see him. He rolled onto his back on the bed beside her, his legs sprawled, and closed his eyes. One hand r
ested on his chest, his fingers slightly curled in relaxation.
His eyes flicked open while she was studying him and he smiled slowly. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair, his touch gentle.
“I like it better when I can see your face properly, but that was fucking hot,” he said.
She laughed, her introspection evaporating in the face of his simple honesty.
“I want you to know that before I met you, I liked to be on top most of the time,” she said.
“I like it when you’re on top, too. I like it all ways with you,” he said. His gaze shifted to the counter, where she’d stacked her art supplies in order to free up the bed. “Did you get your work finished?”
“I did. For today, anyway.”
“Can I see?”
Surprise made her hesitate for a moment. “Sure.”
She rolled onto her knees and crawled to the end of the bed to collect her sketchpad, not sure if he was simply being polite or if he was genuinely interested.
“This is the first of the three images I’m proposing for the site,” she said as she flipped to the current page, revealing the study she’d finished this evening.
The portrait was a refined version of her original concept—a pioneer woman, her face etched with experience and hardship. She wore a homespun dress with an apron over the top, and there was both worry and hope in her eyes as she stood at a water pump, bucket in hand, her gaze fixed on an unseen horizon.
“Amazing,” Casey said, adjusting the pad minutely on the bed so he had a better view. “I can’t believe you’re going to paint a one-hundred-foot-high version of this.”
“If I get a chance,” she said.
She studied the piece, her gaze critical. She was happy with the technical aspects—the proportions were good, and she’d captured the emotion she’d wanted in the woman’s face. She wasn’t quite as confident about her color palette. One of Dane’s signatures had always been his monochrome color schemes, and for five years she’d worked with shades of gray, blue, black and white.
Marietta didn’t feel like a monochrome community to her, though. It was vibrant and strong, rich with connection to the land. She wanted to capture that, and she’d used bright, bold colors in her mural—the sky was a piercing blue, a perfect match for the woman’s eyes. Her gown was an earthy red-brown, the landscape around her green and verdant.
The Rebel and the Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 2) Page 14