White Hot Holidays 12: Christmas Cowboy

by Allyson James

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Christmas Cowboy

  ISBN # 1-4199-0470-1

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Christmas Cowboy Copyright© 2005 Allyson James

  Edited by Heather Osborn.

  Cover design by Syneca. Photography by Dennis Roliff.

  Electronic book Publication: December 2005

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Christmas Cowboy has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  CHRISTMAS COWBOY

  Allyson James

  Dedication

  For my husband, the best hero ever.

  Chapter One

  In a large kitchen scented with Christmas baking, in the small town of Makeview, Texas, Mary Kincaid poured a quantity of rum into two eggnogs and set them on the table. “Look’s like he’s taken the bait,” she said.

  Her friend, Serena St. Clair, nodded. “Kelly’s a sweet girl. When your grandson shows up, she’ll let him in, and then…

  “Nature will take its course?” Mary suggested over the rim of her mug.

  The two women stared at each other, then, at the same time, shook their heads. “Nah,” Serena said. “They’re too young and stubborn.”

  “I don’t know,” Mary answered. “Your niece is a beautiful young woman, and Trey’s a cutie. In my day, that’s all it took.”

  “Young people are different now. All they think about is work.” Serena grinned. “I think we’re going to have to meddle.”

  Mary brightened. “Oh, goodie. After all, what’s the holiday season without a little magic?”

  “We shouldn’t enchant people, you know,” Serena pointed out. “That wouldn’t be right.” But her eyes twinkled.

  “Well, we won’t enchant them, exactly.”

  The two friends looked at each other and laughed. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mary asked.

  “I sure am.”

  They shared another laugh, then Mary bustled around fetching candles, incense and crystals, and the two women went to work.

  * * * * *

  Knockity-knock-knock.

  The knock was familiar, but Kelly, winding a towel around her wet hair and rushing down the cold stairs in her bright orange sweats, couldn’t place it.

  It wasn’t her sister arriving unexpectedly from Hawaii, or her aunt coming to cheer her up, or worse, Kelly’s ex-fiancé, John Hatton, the SOB who’d stormed out two weeks ago, coming back to haunt her.

  John would never have a playful knock. In fact, he never knocked. He’d expect you to open the door as he came up the walk.

  Something niggled at the back of her mind, something from the past…

  ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except Kenny Wayne Shepherd playing heavy blues on CD. Not Christmas blues either, because Christmas music would remind Kelly she was all alone.

  That is, alone except for Mr. X, the new translucent blue vibrator her sister in Maui had sent her as an early Christmas gift. Kelly planned to put on something country, turn out the lights in her bedroom, and pretend Mr. X was Viggo Mortensen.

  She’d even taken a long shower and scrubbed all over with scented bath gel just for him. Mango-coconut.

  Smelling like a tropical drink, she scooted down the last couple stairs, across the living room, and flung open the door.

  Standing on the doorstep in a sheepskin jacket, tight blue jeans, and cowboy hat was the most gorgeous cowboy she’d ever seen.

  Kelly’s eyes went wide, and something hot trickled between her legs. Merry Christmas, who was he?

  He held one hand behind his back, like he was hiding something, and swept off his hat to show her unruly black hair that curled back from his face to the base of his neck.

  His wide shoulders and chest filled out the sheepskin jacket and his jeans stretched over the best thighs that existed outside of a Playgirl, and probably inside it, too.

  A sinful smile split his square, handsome face, and big, blue eyes twinkled under a slash of black brows.

  “Hey, Kelly,” he said.

  Kelly blinked, aware that her hair was wrapped in a towel except for the two strands that dripped cold water into her eyes and that her sloppy orange sweats made her look like an oversized tangerine. She had no makeup on, and her mouth must be hanging wide open.

  “You know me?” she blurted.

  He lost his smile, but his face didn’t look one bit less gorgeous. “Damn, I knew ya’ll would forget about me. Serves me right for leaving home.”

  The voice was smooth and deep, and triggered memories. Kelly had a sudden vision of herself on a horse behind a long, lean young man, riding into a canyon to rescue a mare and foal. Kelly had been eighteen, he three years older.

  She remembered wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling his tight ass against her thighs, breathing in his scent of sweat and fine male. She was the luckiest girl in Makeview, Texas, because she was out there riding behind—

  “Trey Kincaid!” she gasped.

  “Hey,” he said again. “Now that you remember me, mind if I come in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

  Kelly backpedaled, opening the door wide in welcome. West Texas on Christmas day could be eighty degrees, but today a winter storm had blown through, dropping the temperature to a frigid twenty and killing all the geraniums Kelly had put out yesterday.

  Trey waltzed in past her and did a little pivot on the polished floor, keeping hidden whatever was behind his back.

  Trey Kincaid, the most wanted man in Makeview, who’d run off to UT Austin to get a degree in engineering ten years ago. He’d stayed there to set up his own business during the tech boom, and done well, according to his grandmother.

  “A cowboy engineer,” his grandmother, Mary Kincaid, proudly laughed. “A techie in a cowboy hat.”

  Dazed, Kelly pushed the door closed behind him. As soon as she did, a strange sensation shot through her, like a click in her brain, followed by very faint, gleeful laughter.

  A second later, she reasoned she couldn’t have heard anything of the kind. Kenny Wayne’s guitar was wailing in the speakers, drowning out even the wind outside.

  She turned the deadbolt and faced Trey, panting like she’d done a f
ive-mile jog. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “What?” Trey shouted over Kenny Wayne.

  Kelly grabbed the remote and punched a button. Silence blanketed the room. “I said, what are you doing here?”

  He grinned and brought his arm out from behind his back. He balanced three wrapped presents on his hand, the bows sad from the wind. “Delivering.”

  More memories flooded her. Trey Kincaid dancing with her at Hank’s honky-tonk, a bottle of beer in one hand, his other on her hip.

  Walking her out in the woods later, where he’d kissed her. His fingers, cold with the night, working inside her jeans, rubbing her pussy until she shimmied against him, her moans of pleasure silenced against his mouth.

  She’d worked him, too, wrapping her fingers around his long, satiny cock. He’d squeezed his eyes shut tight, letting her stroke and stroke, until he shot into her hand.

  They’d only played with each other that night, his fingers cold on her hot skin. It had been too muddy for either of them to go down on each other, and too cold and wet for complete sex.

  He’d asked her out again, but she’d had to drive her sister back to college in El Paso the next day, and by the time she got back, he’d left for Austin, and that was that.

  “You came all the way from Austin to give me presents?” Kelly asked. For some reason, she couldn’t breathe right.

  “No.” He turned around, looked critically at her short Christmas tree in the living room, then waltzed over and laid the presents beneath it.

  Jeans showed off a man’s ass best, Kelly always said. Her eyes got glassy watching him bend over, his butt sticking out from under the sheepskin coat, the jeans hugging it tight.

  He had long legs, thighs tight with muscle, and strong calves. Even the heels of his boots looked sexy.

  He stood up again, then stopped, probably noticing her drool. She surreptitiously wiped her mouth.

  “Were you looking at my ass?” he demanded, eyes twinkling.

  “Um. Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She licked her lips. “What do you mean, why? It’s a nice ass.”

  Why had she just said that? She was totally off men, remember? Since John had walked out on her two weeks ago, after cheating on her and then telling her it was her fault, she’d decided, no more men.

  Trey Kincaid shows up after ten years, and I’m drooling over his butt.

  “All right,” he said. “Now I get to see yours.”

  Kelly looked down at her bright orange sweat suit, which was so not sexy. Gathering her courage, she turned around, lifted up the tail of her sweatshirt and shook her butt in his direction.

  He laughed. “Oh, yeah,” he said appreciatively. “I’m staying.”

  She heard his boots click on the boards as he crossed to her, then his strong, gloved hands slid around her waist, and his body covered her from behind. “Don’t stop wiggling it, baby. If I’d known this ass was here waiting for me, I’d have driven faster.”

  Kelly moved her hips back and forth, feeling his hard cock behind his zipper. Her juices started flowing, wetting her sweats.

  What was she doing? Ten minutes ago, she’d been looking forward to Mr. X. She hadn’t seen Trey in years, and it wasn’t like they’d been dating, or in love, or waiting for each other. There had been that one playful night, then they’d gone their own directions.

  “You couldn’t have come back to Makeview to see me,” she said.

  “No.” His breath was hot in her ear. “To see my grandmother. Your aunt was at her house, and she was worried she wouldn’t get you your presents in time. So I offered to drive them over. I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought, why not?”

  “And you figured we’d pick up where we left off?” she asked.

  Trey moved his cock against her backside, his hand sliding across the waistband of her orange pants. “No. I thought we’d talk, like old friends. You know, catch up. But I don’t mind replaying that night at Hank’s honky-tonk.”

  “Hank’s burned down.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Too bad.”

  He gave her one last swipe of his hips, then he let her go. “We’ll dance here, instead. Want to? Take a stroll down memory lane?”

  Her heart was pounding, skin on fire. She pressed her hand to the towel on her head. “You want to dance with me? I look awful. I’m surprised you didn’t scream and run when I opened the door.”

  Trey grinned, his handsome face sinful. “You look great.”

  Blushing, she dragged off the towel. Swaths of damp red hair fell around her face and down her back.

  “Even better,” he said, voice going dark.

  She hugged the towel to her chest, suddenly shy. “Put on some music,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll be right back.”

  She ran for the stairs, wondering what she on earth she could slip into that was sexy and slinky and gorgeous.

  “Don’t change on my account,” Trey called after her. “That orange thing is cute.”

  She looked down. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, grinning up at her, one arm resting on the stair rail, like Rhett Butler looking up at Scarlett.

  He was to die for. Why hadn’t she chased him to Austin all those years ago?

  “You’re crazy,” she told him. Then she spun and ran up the stairs, knowing exactly what she was going to wear.

  * * * * *

  What the hell just happened?

  Trey flicked through Kelly’s CD collection, after discarding his sheepskin coat and gloves, looking for something danceable.

  Shit, he’d come over here as a favor to Kelly’s aunt Serena, not to jump Kelly’s bones. But as soon as Kelly shut the door behind them, he’d wanted to have her and not be polite about it.

  Kelly had always been cute, and he’d thought about her often when he was in Austin—about what might have been if he’d stayed in town a little longer. But he’d had girlfriends—hell, one lived with him for five years. They’d lost touch, him and Kelly. She was just a girl from back home.

  But when she’d turned around and playfully wiggled her round, plump ass, he’d wanted to throw her to the floor, peel those baggy orange sweats off her and fuck her good.

  He’d made himself back off and talk about the honky-tonk and dancing. Kelly didn’t want some guy from way back when ripping off her clothes and screwing her senseless. Too crude.

  He should go slow.

  Trey lifted out a country CD and smiled at it. Some nice two-stepping, his arms around her, then he could slide his fingers into her pants, dipping into the crease and down toward her hole like he’d always wanted to.

  He remembered like it was yesterday how her pussy had felt to his fingers, all hot and wet, her cum sliding all over him. He’d licked his fingers afterward, savoring her spicy taste.

  He could skim her pants down to her ankles, make her spread her legs, and lick her clit, tasting her there. Hmm, he was wearing a belt. Maybe they could have some fun with that, too.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Trey heard a step above him and looked up. His mouth dropped open, and he decided then and there, to hell with it. Whatever was going on, he was going to enjoy himself.

  She wore a Christmas dress. It was a bright red knit and sleeveless, with a skirt that bared most of her thighs. A small white snowflake was embroidered right between her breasts.

  Plain and simple, the dress outlined her body, her lush breasts that he’d always loved, and her sweet ass. She’d brushed out her gorgeous red hair that she hadn’t cut short, thank God, and pulled it into a tail. She’d put on green earrings in the shape of Christmas trees.

  Where most women would have donned a pair of spike-heeled shoes and lacy black stockings, Kelly had chosen to go barefoot.

  That was erotic as hell, and he was willing to bet she wasn’t wearing much of anything under the dress. Damn, this was worth driving five hours in Texas winter wind and icy rain for.

  Trey held up the glittering disk of the CD and pop
ped it in the slot. He didn’t say anything, just let the strains of the music take over.

  Kelly walked down the last few stairs and looked at him shyly. He was already harder than a steel girder, and that shy look sent him over the top.

  He moved out into the middle of the nice big living room, holding his arms out, beckoning her. “Come on, baby. Dance with me.”

  Giving him a smile, she came to him.

  “Woo-hoo!” he shouted as he grabbed her hand and her waist, and they started to heel-and-toe it around the room. She laughed. She had a great laugh and a wide, red-lipped mouth.

  Why had he ever left home?

  “I missed you, Kelly,” he heard himself say. “That night outside Hank’s, I wanted to fuck you so good.”

  She gave him that shy look again out of her big brown eyes. “Really? I wanted to fuck, too.”

  The naughty word on her cute lips made his cock dance. “Me and Kelly St. Clair, the hottest girl in Makeview.”

  She laughed at him. “I wasn’t the hottest girl in Makeview.”

  “Yes you were, darlin’. You still are. When I was at UT, when class got boring, I’d imagine we’d gone all the way that night. I thought of peeling those jeans down your legs, bending you over the hood of my car and fucking you right there.”

  “Really?”

  She didn’t even look offended. More wistful.

  “I had a lot of fantasies about you, Kelly. Some of them even make me blush.”

  She blushed. “I had fantasies about you, too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His blood was pounding, his throat dry. “Like what?”

  He thought she wouldn’t tell him. Then she gave him a sexy look from under her long lashes and said, “I fantasized that, when you bent me over the hood of your car, you spanked me with your belt.”

  Chapter Two

  Trey missed a step and staggered to a halt. He stared at her, his blue eyes wide. “You what?”