Just a Cowboy

by Rachel Lee

  She kissed him back, as much with passion for life as with passion for him, and then she pulled away, impatient with delays. Who knew how many hours or minutes she had left?

  In an instant, everything within her shifted. She looked back at her struggles to perfect an impossible marriage, at a man who had tried to kill her over money, and realized that she had been struggling for some kind of future when the future might never happen.

  Rising, she stood beside the bed and reached for his clothes. A surprised laugh escaped him, but he helped her yank away his shirt, his jeans, his shoes, his socks and briefs, until he lay naked.

  Outside the storm finally reached them, booming hollowly, and rain began to beat a tattoo on the roof. Inside another storm brewed: a hurricane of desire.

  In the dim light, she could see hints of the scars that covered his body. Some appeared straight, surgical. Others spoke of tearing wounds. Patches of skin, shiny even in the half light, spoke of burns.

  It had been even worse than he had told her.

  Her throat tightened for him, but she could offer nothing to heal him, unless it was herself. She tugged at her own clothes, feeling bolder than she ever had in her life. Soon they lay at her feet, and she stood while he dragged his gaze over her. It affected her almost as strongly as a touch, and she stood proudly because the only damn thing about her that Dean had never criticized was her body. If she had confidence left in anything at all, it was that.

  Then, slowly, she leaned over him and kissed him lightly. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what pleases you and what doesn’t hurt. We’re going to do this your way because I want it to be as perfect as possible for you.”

  He said nothing for several seconds, eyes locked with hers. Then, “Straddle me.”

  But she didn’t, not right away. Instead, she ran her palms over him from cheeks to belly, to hips to toe, savoring the texture of him, feeling her touches as if he touched her, too. No sex act in her life had ever come close to this, the feeling that she didn’t know where she ended and he began. And all from touches.

  His small nipples hardened, and she rubbed her palms over them, dragging a groan out of him. Then she kissed them, licking them as if they were her own. Another moan encouraged her.

  Smiling with pleasure, she dragged her mouth lower, running her tongue down his center and then dragging it back and forth over his abdomen, feeling his muscles clench in response, feeling the shudders that tore through him.

  His shaft was hard and she wrapped her hand around it. He jerked almost violently at the touch, and she felt the response in her grasp.

  “You’re beautiful,” she told him. Then, driven by needs that were pulsing as hard and hot through her as they must be through him, she bent and ran her tongue along his staff.

  “Kelly…”

  She knew what he wanted. She wanted it, too. Her entire awareness seemed to be sinking to the place between her legs, so strong an ache it almost hurt. But she held back a little longer, clamping her thighs together as if that could help, and toying with him, enjoying the response she evoked.

  Then he sabotaged her. Simply by reaching out and brushing his fingers over the nest of hair between her legs.

  And electric shock caused her to catch her breath hard. Nor could she prevent it when his fingers demanded she loosen her legs for him. She gave him passage, and felt the gentlest of strokes on her petals, softening her, opening her even more until she stood bent over him, her legs apart, moans escaping her as he stroked and teased her petals apart, as his finger found its way into her hot depths.

  “Hank…” She wanted this to go on forever, but she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. With every movement of his fingers, her legs weakened, her womanhood cried out for something deeper and harder.

  “Ride me,” he said roughly. “Now.” He grabbed her hand and pressed the packet into it.

  She rolled the protection onto him, enjoying the way he responded to her touch, wishing she could do without it because she liked his satiny skin better. But knowing he was right. Knowing this simple act cared for them both.

  Then he tugged at her and she came to him as he asked, placing her knees on either side of his hips, propping herself on her hands. “Fill me,” she begged.

  He reached down between them and guided himself into her. She closed her eyes as she felt him slip inside, stretching her and filling an emptiness she had forgotten she even had.

  Then one of his hands found her breast, kneading it, his thumb torturing her nipple into exquisite awareness with every brush. With his other hand he found that tiny knot of nerves between her legs and rubbed it exactly right, as if he knew to the last degree what she needed.

  Apparently, he did. Languorous movement began to speed up as demands took over from longing. There was only one place they wanted to go now, and their hips joined then separated a bit, a rocking motion as old as time.

  The hard ache in Kelly grew until she was sure she couldn’t stand it any longer. But the pinnacle remained just beyond her reach as she rode higher and higher.

  Then it happened. An incredible hovering sensation, a feeling of tipping helpless on a precipice, uncertain whether she would make it over, or even if she could.

  Moments later, stars exploded behind her eyelids. Her body clamped hard once more, then dissolved into throbbing waves of satisfaction.

  She was dimly aware that he joined her seconds later.

  Hank cradled Kelly on his chest, amazed by their lovemaking, warmed to his heart by the way she had chosen to take charge so that he wouldn’t risk hurting any worse. Not all lovers were anywhere near so considerate.

  He didn’t doubt for a moment that she had been genuinely concerned for his pain. As he ran his hands down her damp back, feeling the last shivers of completion run through her, he wondered what in the world he had done to have a woman like this come into his life.

  And right after he had decided to become a curmudgeonly hermit. Hah!

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  “Definitely wow,” he answered. Reluctantly, he moved her just enough to withdraw from his place within her before they could have an accident. She groaned a little, but helped him by moving to the side a bit.

  She snuggled back in and he tightened his hold on her. The rain was pounding the roof right now, and he knew a moment of uneasiness. As loud as the storm was, they might not hear if someone tried to get into the house. Although it was still daylight, however dim, and that seemed an unlikely time to try a break in.

  He wanted to stay right here, right now, indefinitely. He wanted to hold Kelly close, and soon make love to her again. But there was a creeping threat out there somewhere, and he couldn’t give precedence to his wants over her needs.

  She needed protection. He’d seen her reaction when she smelled that cologne—pure terror. He hoped he never saw that look on her face again, but he guessed he was going to, since she’d decided to stay here and face the threat.

  Part of him felt a desperate urge to take her away, to carry her off to some safe place and then keep her with him every second until her court hearing was over. But he understood something else, and it was all that held him back: She needed to face and conquer this threat. She wasn’t just tired of running. She was tired of the person it had turned her into. And from what little he had seen, Kelly Scanlon wasn’t the type who hid from threats.

  Running from Dean, as he had told her, was the only possible way to handle domestic abuse. You leave. But there were a lot of other things in life you didn’t run from, and she wasn’t a natural runner.

  Realizing he had been silent for too long, remembering belatedly that women liked at least some pillow talk afterwards, he ran his hand over her hair and back and forced his thoughts back to right now and the gift that lay in his arms.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. Dumb question, but they were lying there uncovered and she’d made no secret that she was a hot-weather girl.

  “Not yet. I’m still warm.
” She stretched a little and lifted her head to smile at him. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

  “I think I should thank you.”

  A little laugh escaped her, but it faded into a frown. “I guess we need to get dressed. That guy could come at any time.”

  “Most likely not until the middle of the night.”

  “Most likely, but it’s easier to fight wearing clothes.”

  “True.”

  Reluctantly he let go of her, then lay there watching her gather up her clothes and dress. She finally turned to him with an impish smile as she pulled his sweatshirt around her. “Your turn.”

  Moving made him want to groan, but he stifled it. Not moving for much longer would only make it worse, so, much as he didn’t want even two inches between them, he knew he had to get up.

  She stood watching with a smile in her eyes as he dressed.

  “You really are beautiful,” she said.

  “Me? No way. You’re the beautiful one.”

  She shook her head. “You’re beautiful in the ways that really count.”

  He heard some old pain there, and reached for her, drawing her close. “Kelly. So are you.”

  The smile that dawned on her face was like a rising sun on a clear morning. Too bad it didn’t last.

  Reality was a pain.

  They went to the kitchen, still a mess and a long way from being the inviting place he wanted to make it, and she started coffee for them.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Not really.” No, dread had moved in, taking up residence in his stomach. He didn’t like the thought that Kelly might have to face down her killer again, dependent only on a beeper around her neck and him watching from next door.

  “There’s got to be a better way to handle this,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The guy coming after you. I don’t want to be next door trying to see him approach through my windows. I don’t want your life hanging by that beeper around your neck.”

  She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. Her face became pinched. “I don’t see how we can avoid it. If he sees that you’re here, he won’t come.”

  “And maybe that’s just as well. I can accompany you back to Miami for the hearing. Then it’ll stop regardless.”

  She shook her head. “No, Hank. That man attacked me. He tried to strangle me.”

  He watched her hand rise to her throat as if remembering.

  “He hit me on the head and he tried to kill me,” she went on, her voice quavering a bit. “I don’t want him to get away with that. And if Dean was really behind it, and now it looks like he was or the guy wouldn’t have followed me, then I don’t want Dean to get away with it, either. What if some other young woman falls prey to his charm and then tries to leave him? Do you think he wouldn’t do this again?”

  “It’s not your responsibility to protect hypothetical women.”

  “Maybe not. I don’t know. Right now that’s not my main concern. Right now I want those two creeps locked up for attempted murder.”

  He could scarcely argue with that feeling, although he was plenty worried about the means they were using. “There’s still got to be a better way.”

  “If you think of one, I’ll listen.”

  She turned and poured coffee for them both, then brought the mugs to the table.

  “Maybe we can set up some traps for him,” Hank said presently. “Something to make it hard for him to move through the house. To give you and everyone else time.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Maybe. Any ideas?”

  “Well, we’ve sure got enough debris in the living room. It doesn’t have to be much. As it stands, he’ll have to get in through the mudroom, because the new windows have burglarproof locks on them. So we know where he’ll come from.”

  “Unless he picks the lock on the front door.”

  He frowned. “True. Okay, so we set up something there. It doesn’t necessarily have to be something really noisy that might scare him off. But it needs to slow him down and let you know he’s coming.”

  “I doubt I’ll sleep at all.”

  “I know I won’t. But he scoped the place out, obviously, and he has no reason to think we’re going to move things around in here. Why would we? But what concerns me is that if this storm continues, you’re not going to hear much if someone breaks in, and I’m not going to see much if I keep getting blinded by lightning flashes.”

  She nodded slowly. “I wasn’t thinking of the storm.”

  As if to make sure she didn’t forget it again, thunder cracked deafeningly.

  Her eyes darted around nervously, and then she gave a little laugh. “Yup, that’s going to be a problem if it keeps up.”

  “And he’s got to be aware that the storm will help him, not hinder him. In theory, nobody’s out and about, so any noise he makes will be drowned out.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.”

  “I’m not trying to. We can’t afford to minimize any of this, overlook anything, make bad assumptions…”

  “I get it,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m not minimizing this. Believe me, I couldn’t begin to. That man had his hands around my throat. I’ll never forget how that felt.”

  He doubted she ever would. Maybe the point he was trying to make here didn’t have anything to do with her minimizing the risk. Maybe it was simply that he didn’t like the whole setup.

  Rising from the table, he began to limp through the house, studying the place in a way he never had before, with an eye toward making Kelly safer.

  Hell, he had absolutely no useful experience with this kind of thing. As a firefighter, he’d spent a lot of time making sure egresses were clear, not blocked. That people could get out, not that they couldn’t get in.

  “Crap,” he said and turned to find that Kelly had followed him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have exactly the wrong kind of training for this. I clear paths, not block them.”

  “I would guess so.” The fear that haunted her eyes softened a bit. “It’s okay, Hank.”

  “No, it’s not okay. If I can’t stay with you because that might scare him off, then I’m damn well going to make sure he doesn’t find you easy.”

  He went back down the hallway and looked at the piles of torn-up linoleum. The commercial trash collection bin he’d ordered still hadn’t arrived, and maybe that was a good thing.

  Loose linoleum could cause a minor trip, a skid. Something to delay the guy, cause him to make some noise. Staring at the pieces, an idea began to form.

  “We don’t want a major obstacle,” he said. “Just something minor. To make him pause, or make a tiny bit of noise.”

  “Right.” Kelly, too, was now looking at the ragged, bent linoleum as if she was following his train of thought.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Time to put back what we tore out.”

  It took over an hour, but pieces of linoleum soon covered the floor, dangerous now because the edges were bent upward. Not enough to trip, he judged, but enough to create a hindrance from time to time. They didn’t slip much because he still hadn’t begun to remove the layers of old adhesive, but those bent-up ends? Yeah, they’d catch his feet unexpectedly, even if he used a flashlight. It wasn’t much.

  “Now for the bedroom,” he said.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, if he opens your bedroom door, we need some kind of noise to make him pause to alert you.”

  “But not too loud.”

  He nodded. “Exactly.” Looking around, though, caused him pain. “This hurts.”

  “What does?”

  “I’ve violated every principle I spent my life serving. If he can’t get in here without tripping a bit, then you can’t get out. I’ve built a trap for both of you.”

  She tilted her head to one side, taking in the scattered linoleum. “I didn’t think about that part.”

  “I just did. I don’t like th
is one bit.”

  “But I’ll know to pick up my feet.”

  “What if you’re in a hurry?” He just shook his head as lead settled in his stomach. The firefighter in him was rebelling, big-time. “It’s why we’re so insistent on fire codes and enforcing them. When people panic, when they need to run, even little obstacles can cost them their lives. This won’t do.”

  “But what else is there?”

  “I don’t know. I just know we need to think some more.” Then with a stifled groan, he started picking up the linoleum. Sometimes ideas weren’t as good as they seemed at first. And this one was awful.

  In fact, it was potentially deadly, even if no killer ever came.

  He couldn’t live with that.

  Chapter 11

  To Kelly’s amazement, a short time later Hank came up with a truly masterful solution: wind chimes.

  He reluctantly left her alone in the house, telling her to keep everything locked, and then fifteen minutes later returned with a box. When he opened it, it contained some glass wind chimes.

  “I got them for my mother, but never had a chance to give them to her,” he said. “They’re not terribly loud, but probably loud enough to catch your attention, and very different from the storm sounds. If we hang them in the right spot, they should chime quietly if anyone opens a door or window.”

  “That’s brilliant!”

  “No, it’s more like Duh. I can’t believe we spent all that time building a firetrap.”

  Kelly laughed, even though, as the evening deepened, she felt more and more uneasy.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “I’ll hold them up in various places, you open a door or window, and we’ll see if they chime. Then I want to test whether you can hear them in the bedroom.”

  “Okay.”

  The process took a while because he had to find exactly the right place where the intruder, whether he came from front or back, would stir the air enough to make the chimes sing quietly, and then make sure they were just loud enough for Kelly to hear in her bedroom. But finally a thumbtack pressed into the ceiling held them to one side in the kitchen doorway where their glass chimes made soft music easily when the air moved. Even walking down the hallway made them sing quietly.