12-Alarm Cowboys

by Cora Seton

  And this time, when he touched her, he touched her. It was like a bolt of electricity screaming from her clit to each and every humming nerve.

  “Cade.” She took hold of his arm and used it to lever herself up, to fit herself against him. The hairs of his chest abraded her hard nipples. His erection thrust against her belly. She realized she could no longer touch the bottom, but she didn’t care. She was in his arms.

  “Lisa.” While she clung to him, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her and then he folded himself around her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Lifting her slightly, he entered her.

  It was a slow invasion, but each nudge, each inch set off a shower of new sensation, new delight. Relentlessly, resolutely, he filled her. When he was as deep as he could go, he gave his hips a shimmy, circling in her, massaging her.

  She couldn’t help but close on him at the wash of unmitigated pleasure.

  He hissed a breath through his teeth and pulled out. As he moved, he held her gaze, spoke to her with his body and his eyes as he loved her, brought her to higher and higher pleasure.

  She’d loved fucking him last night, and remembered it well, but this was even more glorious.

  Maybe it was the sun on their skin, or the water teasing them, or the fact that he was controlling the thrusts, but it was more intense, more immediate, rawer than anything she’d ever experienced.

  As their passion raged like a storm on the range, as it began to whip and scream and howl, his pace increased. He growled, feral beast that he was, and pulled out before thrusting again and again in a manic and perfect rhythm. They had no leverage but each other, so their lovemaking was like a battle, two bodies wrestling together, twined and entwined, each questing, searching, demanding respite.

  As wild as it was, though it made her heart race and her body weep, though it made her quiver and quake, there was a thread of tenderness woven through it. A tenderness so sweet and poignant, it brought tears to her eyes.

  When she came, it overtook her. It emerged from some place deep within her, some dark, secluded cave where she’d hidden a part of herself. It rose up, expanded and exploded into the light, arms wide, embracing the glory and the warmth of the day, this man, this moment.

  He held her as she struggled for breath. Stroked her as she reclaimed her hold on this world. His chest surged as well. His pulse thudded against her cheek. His arms, strong and warm, held her. Held her up.

  Which was a good thing, considering she was in way over her head.

  As though he could read her thoughts, his hold tightened. “Don’t worry,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve got you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

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  The next week was one of the happiest Lisa had ever spent. She baked like a fiend, trying new recipes—freezing what the Silvers and their ranch hands couldn’t eat—and creating a stockpile for the party scheduled for that weekend. There was nothing she loved more, she found, than exploring her passion.

  Speaking of exploring passion, she spent the nights with Cade, usually in his room. With the door locked. And occasionally they didn’t wait for evening. There was a shocking tryst in the hayloft and another in the woods and another in his sauna, which had left them both limp as noodles.

  Thankfully Cody and Claire accepted the blossoming romance with ease. Lisa had worried how Cody would react—and she was worried how she could face him knowing what he’d seen that morning in Cade’s room—but he waved her concerns off with an affable grin and never mentioned it again, other than to say he was pleased, that he’d never seen his brother so happy.

  That comment tugged at her conscience. Lisa knew Cade was besotted with her. She was besotted with him too. She couldn’t deny it. But she also couldn’t deny that every relationship started out like this, full of hearts and flowers and protestations of absolute devotion. But at some point, they all went sour.

  She couldn’t bear it if that happened with Cade, but she didn’t have the courage to examine why.

  It was much easier to continue as they were. Exploring each other.

  The difficulty was, with each new thing she learned about him, she adored him more. He liked to sing but had little talent for it. He had a soft spot for small creatures—she discovered this when she found him in the barn gently performing CPR on a newborn kitten. He had a habit of sticking olives on each of his fingers before gobbling them up.

  When she asked him about his romantic past—and she found at one point she was burning to know—he told her there wasn’t much to tell, other than he’d been in love with a girl in high school who hadn’t known he was alive.

  That about broke her heart, because he was a wonderful man who deserved to be loved back, with the ferocity and constancy with which he loved. When she told him that girl had been stupid indeed, he’d gazed at her with glimmering eyes and then he’d kissed her. Their lovemaking that night had been gentle and slow and tempered with his gratitude. Which had annoyed her.

  He had no call to be grateful to her. She’d only spoken the truth.

  A woman would be damn lucky to win Cade Silver’s love and devotion. She damn well better love him back.

  Lisa had no idea why the thought of this imaginary woman—the one who would take him to have and to hold—annoyed the crap out of her, but it did. It wouldn’t be her, she had to remind herself. It couldn’t be.

  And yeah, that thought annoyed her too.

  When those kinds of thoughts settled in her mind and swelled, she turned to her baking and found relief.

  As the week went on, she found herself baking more and more.

  Claire swept into the kitchen on Friday morning to find Lisa up to her elbows—literally—in bread dough. She glanced around the room, which was littered with pans and bowls and a dusting of flour. “What are you doing?”

  Lisa bit back a grin and punched down the dough. “Um, making bread?”

  Claire put out a lip, which was funny, because usually when she came upon Lisa in the process of making something edible, she was excited. “Porsche’s coming over.”

  “That’s nice.” Lisa dumped the bowl onto the floured counter and began to knead. It was therapeutic, kneading.

  “I was hoping we could all go into town for lunch. You’ve been closeted in the house all week.”

  Hardly closeted. She’d been in the woods. And the hayloft. “This will take a few more hours. You guys can go ahead.”

  Claire settled on the stool at the island and helped herself to a scone. “We can wait for you. Make it a late lunch. Dinner maybe? Trust me, you don’t want to be here this evening.”

  “What happens this evening?”

  “The Huns arrive.”

  Lisa blinked. “The actual Huns?”

  “Mmm. For the party this weekend? They usually start descending on Friday afternoon.”

  Ah. Lisa chuckled as she split the dough and started rolling it out. “Are you talking about the strippers?”

  Claire made a face. “No. The horny housewives. The strippers are actually pretty chill. But those women. Gads. The squeals. The panting. It’s revolting.”

  “How many are coming?”

  “Fifteen this weekend. It’s a bachelorette party. The worst.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Trust me. You can wait. Come with us to town. You’ll be glad you did.”

  She was glad, but not for the reason Claire assumed. It was simply a delightful afternoon. The three of them had lunch at the B&G and chatted and laughed. Lisa hadn’t had many friends once she’d married Guy—somehow they’d all drifted away. It was nice to enjoy that sense of camaraderie once more. She and Claire were on the same wavelength and their conversations were snarky and funny. She liked Porsche as well. Ford and his fiancé, Crystal, stopped by to chat and ended up joining them. Lisa couldn’t help thinking how nice it was to be back in town. How nice it was to have friends again.

  When they arrived back at the ranch house, there were a bunch of cars pa
rked in the gravel by the barn—the party was already in full swing. Cody met them at the door with a scowl. “Where have you been?” he barked at Claire.

  She sniffed. “We went into town.”

  “You knew we had a party starting tonight.”

  Claire grinned. “Exactly.”

  “Damn it, Claire, we needed your help with check-ins.”

  She patted him on the chest and waltzed into the foyer. “I’m sure you handled it.”

  “Of course I handled it.” Cody started closing the door, but then noticed Porsche standing there. “Oh, hi, Porsche,” he said breezily.

  “Hi, Cody.” Her lashes fluttered. Her tongue peeped out.

  Cody turned back to his sister and propped his hands on his hips. “Next time, let me know your plans, will you, Claire?”

  Cody didn’t notice the way Porsche’s face fell, but Lisa did. Her heart pinged as she realized her new friend had a thing for the handsome cowboy. It was a shame, because he barely even registered her presence.

  It occurred to her that Cody was even more clueless than she’d suspected.

  Which was a really lot.

  Cade was working in the office when Cody found him. Well, he wasn’t working so much as hiding. He hated the first night of the parties; they were so frenetic as the women arrived and got their first glimpse of all the dancers. There was way too much alcohol and many of their guests were already lit. This was going to be a wild one, he could tell. Hence the hiding.

  Besides, though he’d looked for her, he couldn’t find Lisa anywhere. There was no point in emerging if it wasn’t to see her.

  Cody pushed into the office with a growl on his lips. He was often grumpy on first night, so Cade didn’t pay him much mind. “Claire went to town.” This he said like, Claire ran off with a carnie.

  “Mmm hmm?” Cade continued to pretend to work.

  “She knew we had a party tonight.”

  “A small one.”

  He huffed and dropped into a chair. “She should have been here.”

  “She does the books, Cody. Orders the supplies. Coordinates the caterers. Handles the housekeeping. Schedules reservations—”

  “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” Clearly Cody didn’t care for such insurgency. Clearly he’d expected Cade to leap to his defense. He wouldn’t. Silence simmered and then Cody grumbled, “Rick canceled.”

  This caught Cade’s attention. Not because of the words themselves so much as the tone. “And?”

  “We’re short a dancer.”

  Fuck. “And?”

  Cody fluttered his lashes. “And you need to fill in.”

  “I’m not stripping.”

  “I’m not asking you to strip. I’m asking you to fill in. Dance.”

  “Have you seen me dance? The robot is about my best speed.”

  “They don’t care if you can dance.”

  “Right. They want me to strip. I’m not doing it. You do it.”

  “I can’t do it. I’m the MC.”

  “Give me the mic.”

  You would have thought Cade had suggested Cody give him his firstborn. He reared back. “MC is my job.” Something of a pout. “It’s always been my job.” When Cade glared at him, he forced a wheedling smile. “Look, if you do this, I’ll give you the next two weekends off.”

  “I don’t work for you, Cody.” It bore repeating.

  “Please, Cade? Just come out and wiggle your butt a little. Five minutes on stage.”

  “Five minutes?”

  “Just five minutes.”

  “And I get the next two weekends off?” That was tempting. Maybe he and Lisa could take a vacation together, get away. He could always close his eyes and think of England while he did his stint. Besides, if Lisa was watching, he could perform for her. The sight of him in chaps always turned her on. Yeah. This might not be so bad after all.

  “Deal?” Cody thrust out his hand.

  Cade didn’t take it, but he did nod. “Okay. Deal.”

  “Great.” Cody slapped his knees and stood. “Oh, and Cade, can you come dressed in your firefighter gear?”

  “What?”

  “Kane and Gareth are doing the cowboy routine. We need a firefighter. For variety.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’ll be great,” Cody said breezily as he headed for the door. “Oh, and remember not to wear your shirt.” And then, with a grin, he was gone.

  Hell.

  The music was loud, resonating on a deep bass beat. The big dining hall was dim. Lisa stood in the doorway and stared at the stage as two Stetson-wearing musclemen with alarmingly shiny skin writhed on the stage as women howled and screeched. She shot a look at Claire, her eyes wide.

  “Toldja. It’s insane.”

  Porsche shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “That guy on the left is hot.”

  Lisa scoped him out and her nose wrinkled. It was clear that Kane was a bodybuilder. His body was thick and powerful; his features were sculpted perfection. There was no doubt he was a gorgeous man. But he stirred nothing inside her. None of them did.

  Even in chaps.

  She bit back a smile as the thought occurred to her that Cade in chaps had probably ruined her for any other cowboys. Funny, how the thought warmed her.

  The cowboy routine ended to thunderous applause and even more thunderous whistles and catcalls. Lisa had had no idea women could be so raucous. She wondered if her hearing would ever return to normal.

  She winced as Cody picked up the mic and it screeched. He lowered his voice and warbled, “And now, for the first time ever, on the Double Stud stage, put your hands together for Randy, the smoking fireman.”

  The women went wild. Burn It Up started thrumming through the room and a shadow appeared on stage. A tall, broad, powerful man. Something about his silhouette snagged Lisa’s attention and she narrowed her eyes. The lights flared, flickering over his body. She couldn’t see his face because his helmet was angled low, but he was gorgeous. His body was perfectly proportioned and muscular. His broad, bare chest tapered to narrow hips that swayed with the sound of the music. He slowly slid off his yellow jacket and dropped it to the floor.

  The women screamed, but Lisa barely heard through the pulse pounding in her ears. He tipped his chin up and she caught a glimpse of his lips and her heart stalled. She knew those lips.

  Holy God.

  It was Cade.

  Of their own volition, her feet moved her closer to the stage. He filled her vision.

  He looked up then and spotted her, and he stilled, but only for a second. When he started moving again, it was with a smile that was just for her. He removed his helmet and tossed it into the wings, then he lifted a hand and drew it over his chest, caressing himself as he held her gaze. She imagined it was her hand measuring those pecs, rippling over that washboard. He circled his belly button and then drew his finger back up to his nipple. Her knees went weak.

  He turned around so his back was to the crowd and toyed with one of his suspenders, and then the other, teasing the audience. Teasing her. He glanced over his shoulder as he eased one, then the other down, and then waggled his hips as his pants scudded lower.

  Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as the curve of his bottom appeared.

  Surely he wouldn’t… Not in front of everyone?

  But then he grinned and pulled them back up. The women in the audience wailed.

  He turned around and did the same with the front, sweeping low, but only a tease.

  It shouldn’t have affected her the way it did, his dance, his expression, his intent. But it liquefied her.

  She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was seducing her.

  Here.

  On stage.

  In front of everyone.

  The song ended and he bowed to his adoring crowd and then he grabbed his jacket and ran offstage.

  A roar resonated in the room as the women protested his escape, but before they could revolt, Cody quickly called on the next dancer.


  Lisa didn’t wait to see. She couldn’t.

  She was utterly aflame.

  She stumbled from the room and around to the staging area where the dancers were suiting up. They all looked up when she entered the room, but she only had eyes for Cade. Without a word, she took his hand and towed him into the hall.

  He knew. She could tell from the look in his eyes, he knew what she wanted.

  He wanted it too.

  They didn’t get far. He backed her up against the wall—hard against her, hot against her—and kissed her with a blazing passion. She scudded her palms over the muscles of his back, then raked him with her nails.

  He growled in his throat and glanced at the stairs.

  Apparently he decided he couldn’t wait as long as it would take them to climb to the fourth floor. He seized her arm and dragged her into the kitchen. The room was dark and deserted, but he didn’t stop. He herded her around the corner and into the pantry and closed the door.

  They came together in a heated rush. The kiss was feral. Hunger snarled between them. There was no time for talk, no need for it.

  With hard, harsh hands, he unfastened her jeans and yanked them down. Wildly, she kicked them off. He turned her around and bent her over the table, and spread her legs.

  She buried her face in her arms and moaned as he touched her, stroked her. He hissed when he found her damp heat. When he pulled away to yank off his pants, she nearly wailed, but there was no time, because almost immediately he was back, hot and hard, nudging her. With no preamble, he thrust home.

  Ecstasy erupted within her, brilliant and blinding.

  He withdrew and plunged again. And again and again, pummeling her with a barrage of breath-stealing bliss. The sound of his huffs, the slap of skin against skin, intensified as he worked her, finding that spot, the one that made her mindless and mute, the one that made prickles rise on her skin, made tremors take her from the inside out. Unerringly, he found her there, again and again, drawing her to some arcane plane where two somehow became one.

  Her head began to spin. She pushed back into him, opening to him, welcoming him. More. She wanted more.