Falling Fast

by Cerise DeLand

  “Very good,” she breathed.

  He grinned, passion hooding his gaze as he took his time, caressing her nipples, sucking them into points over and over, massaging her belly and giving her minute orgasms with his touch. “You come for me so easily, darlin’.”

  “I know…” She let out a giggle. “Who knew I could do that?”

  “Why? Haven’t had many men?”

  “No. No, not like this. Not like you.”

  “Well, then, let me take my time and apply all my talents to loving you often.”

  She looked Kade in the eye. “Good, because now that I’ve found you—had this with you—I’d hate to let you go.” Then she squeezed his shaft with her vaginal muscles.

  He groaned. “Who says you have to go anywhere?”

  “You’re going to let me stay?”

  He stroked her channel with a long swath of his heavy cock. “Oh, you’re staying.”

  “I’m hired?” She could barely believe her good fortune.

  His eyes laughed as they delved into hers. “Seems like the best way to keep you.”

  “Well,” she demurred, teasing him, “I can’t just stay in town and say I’m here to make love to the famous Kade Stapleton.”

  His brows furrowed. “No, certainly can’t do that.” He caressed her stomach, lost in thought. “But if you do stay, you are making love to Kade Stapleton.”

  “I wouldn’t stay if I couldn’t.”

  He examined her then. Long and hard, he looked her over, from her swollen mouth to her pebbled nipples to her wet bush, his cock still buried deep inside her. He combed her pussy hair with two gentle fingers. “I want you often. In a bed. Down in the river. On the bank on a blanket. Everywhere. Every day.”

  “At night, too,” she insisted and let him know she was adamant about it with another pulse of her powerful walls.

  He hooted. “You bet. But this is a small town and folks have proprieties here, so you’ve got to have a room. We’ll set you up at Troy Mallard’s B&B.”

  “You’ll visit?” she asked, eager as a teenager with a new boyfriend.

  “Ha! I’m gonna be around you so much, you’re gonna get tired of me.”

  She grinned, bold as brass that he could care that much. “I want to be tired because of you, Kade Stapleton.”

  “Oh, trust me.” He pushed inside her once more, his eyes drifting closed in the move. “You’re gonna have to find ways to get your work done fast, Shana. Cuz, I’ve got a taste for you now, and it’s only gonna grow.”

  She tossed him an impish grin. “Kade, just give me time, and I’ll be making you and the Hayward Rodeo grow a lot.”

  On a shout, he pulled out of her and yanked her up into his arms. Running his palm up into her hair, he cupped her head and planted a big, hot, juicy kiss on her happy mouth. “A promise, I’m gonna see to it you keep.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mornin’, Troy!” Kade greeted the owner of Hayward’s only bed and breakfast as they stood in the reception hall of the huge, old Victorian house. “This is Shana Carpenter who’s going to be working for us at the rodeo.”

  “Welcome, Miz Carpenter,” Kit boomed in a mighty base as he took a limping step forward and reached across his reception desk to shake her hand. In his early thirties, he rivaled Kade for tall, rugged and drop-dead gorgeous. But with his silky, black hair and chocolate-brown eyes, any resemblance ended. Appreciation for her looks, though, fired up his gaze. “I see that my buddy Kade, here, has good taste.”

  “Thank you,” Shana responded with a professional smile and withdrew her hand from his.

  “Shana needs a large room, Troy,” Kade announced, his gaze rising slowly from Troy and Shana’s hands. “I hope you had the biggest casita in the back available.”

  “Sure do, Kade. I can fix you up.” He turned to take a key from the pigeonhole slots behind him. “The one with the kitchen, right?”

  “Yep and the hot tub in the back.”

  Troy took his time admiring Shana’s lips, making her wonder if he could tell what she’d been doing with them only minutes ago.

  “What’s the rental fee?” she asked, careful to sound professional.

  “How long will you stay?” Troy asked. “I can quote you a really good rate if you’re here for a long while.”

  “Three months,” she told him before Kade could get a word out.

  “Wow. That long? Terrific. Means we’ll get to know you really well.”

  Kade smiled, but his expression was more rueful than pleasant. “Easy, boy. Shana’s here to help me make strides with the rodeo.”

  Troy now examined Kade in fine detail. “Is that right? Well, then, you do need the biggest little house in the back.” He fastened his dark gaze on Shana and quoted her a rate per month.

  “Sounds like a deal,” she told him with a grin. “Do you want me to sign an agreement for that?”

  “No, but you could give me a credit card. Usual check-in practice.” He seemed more businesslike now, less predatory male. “I can bill you monthly. First month in advance.”

  “Wonderful.” She searched in her briefcase for her wallet, lifted out her personal card and let him complete the registration forms. She signed and turned to Kade.

  He took her arm.

  Troy examined both of them with a critical eye. “If you need anything, Shana, just call us here at the desk.”

  Kade stared at him and shook his head as he told her, “Troy prides himself on doing everything for the single women who take rooms in his establishment.”

  “Oh,” she tried to be polite, sidestepping any words to deepen the men’s tension, “good to know. Thanks, Mr. Mallard.”

  “Troy,” he corrected her with laughter in his voice and his eyes. “We don’t get many good-looking single women coming into town.”

  “Troy,” she acknowledged. “Hopefully, when we get more people coming to town for the rodeo, there’ll be a bigger selection of single women.”

  He laughed. “That would be great for the likes of me because I see Kade here has already staked his claim.”

  She blushed.

  Kade let out a laugh. “Okay, man. We’re gonna settle Shana into the back casita.”

  “Call me if you need help getting the air conditioner or the whirlpool going.”

  “I think I’m capable, buddy,” Kade called over his shoulder as he headed them out the front door. “I love the man. He’ll walk over hot coals for his friends, but I have to tell you, ever since he got discharged from the Guard, he’s an alley cat,” he told her as they took the sidewalk toward the back of the property.

  “So was he in Afghanistan or Iraq?”

  “Yeah. Anbar Province. Hell in the sand. You saw him limp, right?”

  “What happened?”

  “Roadside bomb. Took part of his left foot. He’s still in physical therapy. Goes twice a week into the VA Hospital in Kerrville for treatment. He’s getting better slowly. Too slowly for him. His biggest problem is not the foot.”

  “It’s his head?” she speculated.

  Kade didn’t respond but seemed lost in thought.

  “Does he have psychological problems, or did he get a head injury from the blast?”

  “Some of both,” Kade snapped. “Sorry. This is tough for me to talk about.”

  She stopped, and he turned to face her. With fear, she opened the subject that could ruin the good things she had going here with him. “Because of your own disability.”

  It wasn’t a question, and the expression on his face told her he was surprised and relieved she knew the truth.

  “I read your bio in the press clips of the rodeo,” she admitted.

  “Yeah, well, it’s true. I have head injuries from my years of bronc riding. You get thrown off once, no big deal. Twice, hey, you’re getting good at scrambling up. But three, four, fourteen times and suddenly, your body recovers but you are not acting right.” His green gaze bored into hers, and his jaw twitched. “We are not going to talk abo
ut this. Not now.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Come on.” He tugged at her arm. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay. Let’s get you settled in this little house. I’ll get your car and drive it over so you can unpack your suitcase. We’ll talk about the rodeo. I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour, then,” he beamed at her, his mouth lush and generous with his grin, “I’m going to cook you lunch.”

  But Kade wasn’t his same congenial self. The fact that she’d brought up his head injury had doused their easy-going relationship. He didn’t smile, didn’t tease, didn’t touch her as they rode through the giant wrought iron gates of the Hayward Rodeo.

  “Built in nineteen-fifty,” he told her as they jounced along the rough macadam up to the main arena in his serviceable old four-by-four. “One hundred pens in the back, lots of road access for horse trailers and cattle cars. The arena seats five thousand. The roof was new after the last bad hail storm in ninety-nine. The paneling on the inside and the plumbing is all brand new last year. So we look good, and we have capacity to grow in this arena.”

  “The outside does look good.” She pushed up her sunglasses on her nose. She figured she’d go on with the business stats, learn something about what she had to do here, before she went back to worrying that he might not want her any more, might truly know who she really is, and not want to talk about the head injury which was the cause of his outbursts she’d witnessed four years ago. “A seating capacity of five thousand means we can alternate this with activities in the open-air ring. Which is where?” She swiveled in her seat to look around.

  “Over there.” He pointed to their left, and as she came nearer, he went quiet and his glance drifted down to her lips. “What do you think?” he asked, husky and warm. “Want to go see it?”

  “Absolutely.” She smiled up at him, eager to have him back inside her, needing to reassure him, to show him that she wanted to make up to him about his head injury. And about the injury I did you by misrepresenting what your outbursts really were.

  His green eyes and his supple mouth showed her he wanted her again, too. “It’ll be a quick tour.”

  “Lead on, then!” She laughed. “I need to do my research before I can suggest anything.”

  He barked in laughter and shifted the gear so that they jounced forward toward the outdoor arena. “Let’s see. What other facts can I tell you?”

  “Hmm. Aside from when is lunch?” she teased.

  “Yeah,” he rasped. “Lunch is in five minutes.”

  And he kept his word. Instead of getting out of the truck, he rode her around the arena’s circumference. Pointing to these ticket gates, he told her they were on track to be replaced next month. “The interior seats are good for another five thousand. And they’re comfortable, too. But the biggest problem is that in Texas’s summer heat, spectators can fry at one hundred degrees. This arena is better for night events.”

  “What about the opening parade of color guards? Do you still do that here or over in the covered ring?”

  “Here. We do it early in the morning. Nine o’clock. Early by most standards. But it works for us. For now. Until we need to find the money to build a bigger covered main ring.”

  “Cost efficiency,” she agreed. “It’s what we’ll work on.”

  “Good. So now, lunch?” he asked, his eyes lit with childish glee.

  Breathless, she licked her lips. “I’m starving.”

  He almost stripped the gears getting the truck in reverse. And he chuckled all the way down the rock-strewn drive. “I’ve got to fire up the coals. Want a salad, too?”

  “Yes. I’m delighted to know one more man in the world can cook.”

  “Oh?” He had his eyes on the road as they made a turn onto the highway. “How many men have you known who can cook?”

  “My father. My uncle.”

  “That all?” he asked, and his jaw twitched again. Not a happy sign.

  “That’s all,” she told him, but she knew he was fishing for more information about men she’d known, men she’d dated, men she liked. She wasn’t going to give it to him, either. Because this, coupled with the way he had reacted to Troy Mallard’s interest in her, told her this kind of knowledge was not what she needed to offer Kade. He could get jealous. Angry.

  “I have a lot of good recipes,” he told her, eyes on the road, one hand taking hers into his lap.

  His playfulness had her sighing in relief as she caressed the muscles of his thigh. “Tell me.”

  “Steak. Salad. Baked Potatoes. Chili that’ll curl your mother’s stockings,” he told her with a grin as he took the exit ramp. “And cereal.”

  She feigned a shiver. “Cold?”

  “You hate it, huh?”

  “I like something hot.”

  He shot her a sensual grin.

  She pinched his thigh. “Eggs. Or oatmeal, hot with brown sugar and maple syrup. And if you can’t make it, I can,” she told him as he pulled off the main road and jounced down a pebbled drive to a one-storey, white-stone ranch house.

  He pulled up the drive to the front door and turned off the engine. “Is that an invitation to have breakfast with you?”

  She widened her eyes at him. “If you’d like.”

  He curled a long, strong arm around her, hauled her across the shift and, on her mouth, vowed, “Oh, Shana Carpenter, I do like.” His kiss was searing and brief.

  He pulled away, hopped out of the cab then came around to open her door and hold up his arms for her to fall into. Opportunist that she was, she took advantage of his embrace to put her own mouth to his in a claim that made them both moan.

  “Come inside before we do things out here others will applaud.” He took her briefcase from the floor of the cab and put his arm around her waist to lead her to the porch.

  When he opened the front door, he stood to one side to let her precede him. She stepped into the cool living room, done in rust leather and brown and red Navaho carpets. On the mantel was a large old clock and a huge contemporary iron sculpture. But on the walls, he’d mounted memorabilia of his life. Certificates, awards, a few pictures of a family of four, from maybe twenty years ago.

  “I love it,” she told him as she saw him watching her reaction to his taste.

  “I rent the house. Option to buy if I make enough money as rodeo manager.”

  She inclined her head toward the large family picture of mother, father and two teenagers, one of whom was clearly a younger Kade. “Your family?”

  He nodded, put his keys down on a side table then glanced at his wall. “Yes. All gone but me.”

  His grief was almost palpable. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

  He winced. “I lost my parents five years ago. My brother the next year.”

  She felt sick to her stomach with the coincidence of the timing. My god and I ruined him at the same time.

  He gazed at her while some inner conflict contorted his features in grief and anger.

  “Kade,” she began, devastated by her own guilt, not knowing what in hell she could say to him now. Except the whole truth, for which she hadn’t summoned enough courage. Yet.

  Suddenly, he was there, pushing his hands up through her hair, pressing her to him like a second skin and branding her lips, once, twice, three times with his.

  “We’ll wait for the steaks,” he told her, then bent to gather her up into his arms and march with her, beyond the living room into a shadowed hallway toward the back of the house.

  She hung on to him, shaking at his demand and thrilled, but not quite knowing this Kade who commanded her. At the end of the hall, he kicked open the door and carried her to a king-size bed covered in rust and brown silk coverlet. He laid her down and rose above her. His fingers tangled in her long hair as he plundered her mouth. His kisses, filled with languor and nuance, caressed, brushed and crushed her lips. His tongue speared into her mouth, and she groaned, needing more of this man who was so controlling and yet so sweet.

  He hauled her up to a sittin
g position. “I need you naked, baby.”

  She kicked off her shoes then reached for her tank top the same time he did. The two of them pulled up to throw it aside.

  “Christ,” he kissed the tops of her breasts as his hands lifted under her bra and made them plump up out of the cups, “I love these. Your big nipples. Pink, satin,” he licked one tip with the edge of his tongue, “and hard. They like to be nipped.” He bit each one in turn and made her buck. “And tweaked.” He did each delicately and whispered against her ear, “I could play with you all day.”

  She writhed in excitement. “Mmm, no.”

  “No? What do you want then, honey?” He palmed her nipples, rubbing them.

  “I want you to finger my pussy.”

  He grinned like a satyr. “Just finger you?”

  “For now.”

  He cupped her mound with one big hand. “Hot already and wet. Jesus, are you soaked.” Then, he reached for her waistband.

  She stilled his hands with her own. “Let me do this.”

  Fear stood in his gaze as he searched her own. “You’re not leaving me?”

  “God, no!” She kissed him fast then she wriggled sideways to stand on unsteady legs. Naked from the waist up, she raised her arms and arched upward then turned to let him view her from the side.

  He narrowed his eyes, his breath heavy. “You’d better hurry, darlin’, because my patience is always very thin.”

  Oh, she knew that for certain, didn’t she?

  “Mmm. I hear you,” she whispered and spun so that she unbutton her skirt and let the things shimmy down her hips. And with each inch the skirt dropped, so did his eyes. Better than any plan, the damn fabric caught at the jut of one hip bone and gaped open at the seam of her mons. She smelled her own fragrance and her need for him escalated to a fever pitch. Sex had been such a luscious event with this man, and she wanted to ensure it was again, so she tilted her hips up toward him and asked, “When I take this off, will you lick me again?”

  He growled. “All you want.” He waggled a finger at her. “Take it down, baby. Now.”

  Again, she couldn’t have rehearsed it better so that when she shifted her hips once more, her skirt slowly slid to the floor in a sinuous whoosh. Hands still above her head, she just stood there and let him look his all.