24 Hours Bundle

by Jo Leigh

  Deprivation, he told himself. He hadn’t been with a woman in months because he’d been on the mend at the Iron Horse. It only stood to reason that he’d go a little nuts when he finally got up close and personal with a female. Even if the female were Teeny Deanie Codge.

  Because it was Deanie.

  Because he’d thought about her more than once since that night on the riverbank.

  The truth echoed through his head as fiercely as the want vibrated through his body. He had thought about her. Many times. Too many for a man who’d vowed to leave the past behind and forget everything and everybody. He’d meant to start fresh. To bury the hurt and the pain of his memories once and for all and think only of the future.

  The next game.

  The next competition.

  But try as he might, he’d never completely forgotten Deanie. She’d been the one person who’d made him smile, and the only person who’d made him think twice about leaving Romeo all those years ago.

  Because he’d felt something for her. Friendship and like and lust.

  He’d recognized the first two when they’d been just kids, even if he’d never admitted as much to her. She’d known. She’d seen it in his smile. Hell, she’d seen it in his frown when he’d been hurting over his parents’ deaths. He’d told her to get lost, but she’d known he’d really wanted her there. He’d needed her, and so she’d stayed.

  The lust…

  He’d hadn’t recognized that until the night she’d offered herself to him and he’d had the nearly overwhelming urge to cross the few feet of distance between them and kiss her for all he was worth.

  He’d wanted to.

  Hell, he’d wanted her. So much that it had hurt.

  But he’d seen her heart in her eyes and he’d known that taking her then and there would have meant taking a lot more than just her sweet, delectable body.

  Deanie had fancied herself in love with him. She’d wanted a happily ever after, and there’d been no such thing in the cards for Rance. When Rance’s father had died, his grandfather had taken over the ranch. He’d assumed responsibility for Rance and his brothers, as well, but he hadn’t wanted them around. They’d reminded the old man of the son he’d lost and so he’d pushed his grandsons away. Rance had given up steer wrestling and spent his extra time practicing with his high school football team as their star tackle. Before long, he’d been on his way out of town, away from the ranch and the old man who’d stopped loving him and his brothers.

  He’d been this close to gone that night, and so he’d only been in the position to give her a few blissful moments.

  And now?

  It didn’t matter what he could or couldn’t give her. She’d made it crystal clear that she didn’t want anything from him, least of all a long-term relationship.

  No cuddling in front of the TV every night. No sharing breakfast, lunch or dinner down at the Fat Cow Diner. No lazing around together on Sunday afternoons or dusting the floor at Romeo’s one and only honky tonk on Saturday night.

  She had plans that didn’t include him.

  The truth bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have, considering the fact that Rance didn’t want a long-term relationship with anyone. His lifestyle was much too unsettled.

  Which meant he should be pleased with Deanie’s sudden about face.

  Should be? To hell with that. He was pleased. Happy. Ecstatic.

  He fought down the irritation that niggled at his gut. He damned sure didn’t want her to want an ongoing relationship with him. He just wanted her to want him, period. To admit it. To act on it.

  Rance focused on his throbbing cock and the woman perched between his legs. The wrap she’d had knotted securely around her had come loose and now pooled at her waist, effectively hiding the erection that strained beneath his shorts and pushed against her soft, round ass.

  Drawing a deep breath, he let his gaze travel the smooth, pale expanse of her back. The thin straps of her bikini top knotted just below her shoulder blades.

  Rance fought back the urge to trace the straps around her rib cage and slide his hands beneath the skimpy material barely concealing her full, lush breasts. He wanted to touch her bare nipples, to feel them ripen with need.

  The same need that coursed through his own body and made his muscles bunch.

  But he knew he had to pace himself, to keep his cool and launch a full blown attack on her senses. It was all about breaching her line of defense, tackling every barrier and turning her on beyond the point of no return.

  Until she wanted him so much that she gladly offered herself up the way she had that night.

  He gathered his control, let loose a deep, shaky breath and reached into her partially open bag that sat next to the chair. Retrieving her sunscreen, he opened the tube and dribbled the white cream along the curve of one silky smooth shoulder, and then the other.

  “Hold your hair up,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. She visibly trembled and his gut tightened.

  Rance drew a deep breath, gathered every ounce of control that he possessed and touched her.

  SHE KNEW he was going to touch her.

  It wasn’t like he was just going to squeeze the sunscreen onto her and then up and leave. Of course, he was going to work it into her skin. Massage it in. Slowly and thoroughly.

  She knew that. Just as she knew his hands would be large and strong and warm. The way she’d imagined whenever she replayed their one night so long ago and fantasized a much different ending. One where he actually reached out rather than running away from her.

  But her imagination didn’t begin to do him justice. His hands were even larger than she’d thought. Stronger. And forget warm. They were hot. Scorching.

  His long fingers closed over her shoulders and her breath caught. A steamy heat radiated from the point of contact and swept along her nerve endings, burning up everything in its wake. Her determination. Her resistance. Her common sense.

  She tried to sit up straight, to concentrate on the sparkling pool that stretched out in front of her and the cluster of people at the opposite end. But the only thing she could think of was the man who sat behind her, surrounding her, consuming her.

  His deep, even breaths filled her ears. His rich, mesmerizing scent teased her nostrils. The rough feel of his strong, callused hands stirred every nerve as they slid over her shoulders, down her arms and back up again. His muscular thighs framed hers, his deep tan making her skin look almost white in comparison. But in a good way. She felt small compared to him. Soft. Fair. Feminine.

  More so when he pulled her bottom back more firmly into the cradle of his thighs. His groin pressed into her buttocks and awareness bolted through her. He was hard. Very hard.

  The realization stirred an ache between her legs and she had the sudden urge to turn and rub her crotch up against his.

  As soon as the thought struck, she stiffened. She would fling herself headfirst into the pool before she let that happen.

  “Close your eyes,” he murmured. His voice slid into her ear and sent a tingle of awareness to her nipples. “You’re too tense. You need to stop thinking about everyone else.”

  “I’m not thinking about everyone else.”

  “Then what are you thinking about?”

  “That I should move.”

  “If you do that, darlin’, it’s only going to get harder.” For emphasis, he moved. Just a momentary press of his groin against her buttocks, but it was enough. He seemed to grow bigger. His weight strained more fully against her bottom and she caught her breath.

  “I meant that maybe I should move away,” she managed to say after several frantic heartbeats. Now. Right now.

  “That would mean giving in to your inhibitions, not shedding them. You’re uptight because we’re in a public place and there are dozens of people who could very easily glance our way at any moment.”

  If only.

  “To strip away your inhibitions,” he instructed, “you have to do the opposite of
what your brain tells you.” He said the words slowly, each one loaded with promise. “If your head tells you to move, you stay right…” He pulled her more firmly against him, her back flush against his chest “…here.”

  His hands slid down her arms to the cover-up, the edges puddled in her lap. He pulled the material free, letting it slide from between them, and dropped it on the ground next to her bag.

  Deanie felt a rush of self-consciousness at sitting there wearing nothing but her skimpy bikini, Rance straddling the seat behind her. But then he dribbled sunscreen onto one bare thigh and her brain short-circuited.

  7

  THE COOL, CREAMY LIQUID oozed over Deanie’s hot skin as he moved to squeeze more onto her other thigh. Her heart pounded as he set the bottle to the side and touched her, his hands on either thigh, and started to smooth the lotion.

  Strong, purposeful fingers rubbed circles into her skin, moving along the outside of her legs, higher to where her swimsuit rode high on her hips. He paused at the edge before tracing the line down toward the bottom of the vee. She stiffened, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she almost didn’t hear the low, deep, rumble of his voice.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  “I…” she stammered, but then one fingertip grazed the material covering her pubic area, as if his hand had accidentally slipped from its original purpose, and the answer collided into a jumble at the back of her throat.

  “Think about how much you like it and stop worrying about who might be watching.”

  But she wasn’t worrying about who might have seen the intimate touch. She was more worried about whether or not he would do it again.

  About how much she wanted him to do it again.

  He slid his palms over her thighs toward her knees and back up, his thumbs grazing the seam where her legs met before separating and moving to the outside of her thighs and back up again. And then he repeated the process.

  Again.

  And again.

  Electricity threaded through her body and tightened. She felt the pull in her nipples and between her legs. Her lungs constricted and she couldn’t seem to drag enough air into them.

  “You like this, don’t you?”

  She nodded. She liked the way he touched her, so hungry and desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She liked the way he made her feel so restless and hungry inside, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

  She liked him.

  “You want me to keep touching you, don’t you?”

  She drew a shaky breath and nodded again.

  “What if I told you that someone was watching us?”

  “Is there someone?”

  “Does it matter? Would you really want me to stop? Or would you want me to touch you anyway?”

  “I…” She drew a sharp breath as his fingertip slid beneath the edge of her bikini bottom and traced the seam between her legs. “I want you to touch me anyway. Because.”

  Because the notion that someone would see him touch her, desire her, would make it that much more real.

  She’d had such a deep crush on him way back when and she’d desperately wanted him to return her feelings. She’d imagined it time and time again. She’d mistaken his smile every morning when she’d climbed onto the school bus for interest. Misinterpreted him saying hello in the hallway at school for genuine like. Labeled innocent acts of kindness—such as when she’d forgotten her lunch and he’d given her his or the time he’d asked her to dance at the Elks Lodge fund-raiser because she’d been the only one without a date—as surefire signs of attraction.

  She’d fooled herself until the truth had stared her baldly in the face. There’d been no way to sugarcoat his rejection that night at the lake. He’d walked right by her, straight into the water, and it had been obvious that he’d felt nothing for her.

  Back then.

  But now?

  The fingertip parting her folds, plying the soft, slick tissue, wasn’t a figment of her overactive imagination. No carefully constructed fantasy. No wet dream in the dead of night.

  The touch was real. He was real. And he really wanted her.

  As much as she wanted him.

  Just as the thought struck, she forced it back out. This wasn’t about wanting him. It was about wanting, pure and simple. About tuning in to her own body and focusing solely on the way her heart beat and her skin tingled.

  She told herself that over the next few moments as he dipped inside her steamy heat and her body seemed to tighten around him. Pressure pulled inside of her, winding tight as he pressed deeper. Once. Twice. Each probe took her breath away, the sensation sharper, sweeter, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She moved her hips, begging him deeper, but he didn’t oblige. Instead, he withdrew until his touch rested between her slick folds, as if he waited for her to grab him and pull him back inside.

  She fought the urge and took advantage of his retreat to drag some much needed air into her deflated lungs.

  “Have you ever had an orgasm like this? With just a man’s hand between your legs? Moving back and forth? Up and down?” The rough pad of his finger slid between her lush lips until he brushed her clitoris.

  Pleasure, so fierce and intense, pierced her brain and shattered her resistance for a heart-stopping moment.

  “Have you?” His deep voice slid past the thunder of her own heartbeat.

  “I…” She licked her lips.

  “Tell me.”

  No. The word was there on the tip of her tongue, but she clamped her lips shut and kept it from going any farther. She bolted to her feet.

  “Deanie?” He followed her to where she stood trying to catch her breath by the pool. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She drew some much needed air into her legs and summoned her best smile. “Mission accomplished.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The first workshop. I passed. I let you touch me in a public place and I managed to push everything aside and focus on the way it made me feel.”

  “Which was?”

  “Nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Good.” She tried to look nonchalant. “Pretty good.”

  “I felt you tighten around me.” His deep, seductive voice slid into her ears and stirred her already throbbing body. “I know it felt better.”

  “Okay, so it felt better than good.” He arched an eyebrow and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “It felt great.” When he grinned, she added, “But great is a far cry from spectacular. And it didn’t feel spectacular. Not orgasmic spectacular.”

  His expression hardened. “It would have if you hadn’t jumped up like that.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “And maybe not.”

  His gaze narrowed dangerously. “Are you saying you weren’t going to have an orgasm?”

  The way he said the last word caused a bolt of desire that struck right between her legs. Her thighs clenched and she cleared her suddenly dry throat. “I—I might have—” She licked her lips “—but the odds are just as great that I wouldn’t have.”

  She’d been close. So close. But he didn’t know that and she wasn’t going to tell him because that would mean admitting that he could make her feel things no other man ever had.

  That he was different. Special.

  Her one and only.

  He wasn’t, she told herself for the umpteenth time. The thing was, with him so close and so masculine and so downright sexy, she was having more and more trouble believing it. And when he stared at her with that knowing light in his whiskey-colored eyes, she flat out didn’t buy it at all.

  Even more, she knew he didn’t buy it. He saw past her defenses to the trembling, panting, needy woman beneath, and damned if he didn’t smile—a slow tilt to his sensuous lips that made her want to kiss him, long and slow and deep, almost as much as she wanted to hold on to her pride.

  Almost.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t just have one of the
most amazing times of your life.”

  She caught and held his gaze. Do it, she told herself. Tell him before you lose your nerve. Or worse, before you up and kiss him.

  She wasn’t going to kiss him. She had willpower.

  Unless he grinned at her, that is. Then she wouldn’t be able to help herself.

  He grinned. “You can’t say it, can you?”

  “No, but let’s see if you understand hand gestures.” She reached out and shoved for all she was worth. It was that or kiss him, and Deanie wasn’t making the same mistake twice. She’d put her pride on the line once before for Rance McGraw and he’d stomped all over it.

  He wasn’t rejecting her this time.

  “WHAT THE…” hell drowned in a mouthful of water as Rance slammed into the deep end and went under. He came up sputtering a few seconds later and glared up at Deanie who stood near the edge of the pool, an unreadable expression on her face.

  “Dammit, woman! What was that for?”

  “You seemed a little hot around the collar and I thought you needed to cool off.”

  “By drowning me?”

  “If memory serves me, you’re a better than average swimmer.”

  “Not with a concussion. I damned near hit the bottom of the pool.”

  Deanie fought back a wave of compassion and held tight to the sudden surge of anger that rushed through her, along with her memories.

  “I never figured you for the careful type, what with wrangling snakes and all that other stuff you do in the name of sports.”

  “They are sports. Extreme sports.”

  “Extremely nutty sports. Then again, you’ve never been one to use good judgment. What were you thinking jumping into that lake at midnight while you were three sheets to the wind?” The question was out before she could stop it. “You could have killed yourself.”

  But then death had been preferable to a hot night with Deanie Codge, her bruised ego whispered.

  “Yeah, well that was stupid.” His voice was quiet, laced with an unmistakable regret. As he stared up into her eyes, Deanie had the distinct suspicion that he was talking about more than just jumping into the lake. And then he opened his mouth, and his words confirmed the feeling. “I did a lot of stupid things that night.” His gaze darkened and sincerity glimmered in the dark golden depths. “I shouldn’t have turned you down, Deanie.”