Down in Texas

by Delilah Devlin

  “Can you get on your feet?” he asked, his tone flat.

  She nodded, feeling her mouth tremble. With his hands under her elbows, she stood, catching herself when she began to teeter again.

  An arm curved around her waist, and she let him turn her toward the embankment.

  “Can you make it?”

  Her chin came up. “I’m not hurt,” she bit out.

  “You will be,” came his low, growled promise.

  Startled, she swung back to look at his face.

  His narrowed gaze burnished every place it landed. Her eyes, her lips.

  Her mouth parted. “Brand…?”

  His head shook, a fierce anger flooding his pale cheeks with color, his expression etched in sharp fury.

  She shrugged off his arm and stumbled to the bank, crawling up on her hands and knees until she stood in the grass and the sunshine beat down on her unprotected face.

  Closing her eyes, she lifted her head, ignoring him as he climbed up beside her. How could she blame him for his anger? She’d been careless. Hadn’t believed his warnings. She’d always had confidence she could handle herself in just about any situation, but she’d been caught flat-footed with this one.

  Now a man lay dead in the gulley below. The man she loved looked ready to strangle her he was so furious.

  How could things have gone awry so fast?

  “Let’s go.”

  She trudged behind him as he retrieved his horse.

  “I should find my mount,” she said softly.

  “Let your men do that. I’m getting you back to the house.”

  His words, issued in bulleted gusts, angered her. “Wait a second. Do you think anyone else would have been more prepared than I was for what went down?”

  “You shouldn’t have been alone.”

  “I was doing my job. Same as Santiago. It could have been him walking into an ambush.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. Get your ass on this horse.”

  Blood pumped in her ears. “Fuck you. I’ll walk back.” She turned and stomped a few steps in the direction she’d left her cattle and foreman, only to be dragged back by an arm snaking around her middle.

  Brand brought her up hard against his chest. “Don’t…fight me. Not now.”

  “Why not? Feels damn good.” Her chin notched higher. “Pretty goddamn normal, don’t you think? You’re telling me what to do again—I’m telling you to go to hell.”

  Brand’s hand clamped on her forearm, and he turned her, pulling her in, his legs bracing apart as he grabbed her bottom and forced her hips closer to his.

  A thick ridge pressed into her belly. “We’re going home. Now.”

  Lyssa’s mouth dropped open to deliver another quick retort, but his tight-lipped fury, combined with the jut of his rigid sex digging into her, melted her resistance. She nodded dumbly, let him turn her away, and didn’t even complain when he gave her a gentle shove forward.

  Strength returned to her legs as a stirring of sensual excitement lit a slow-burning fire in her gut.

  Once again he sat her sideways on his horse, forcing her head against his shoulder before taking up the reins and turning the horse toward home.

  They barely made it to his bedroom, fighting each other to strip away their clothing. Managing to get their boots and pants off but cursing at their shirts, leaving them hanging at their elbows before they fell across the mattress in a sprawl of limbs.

  When he thrust inside, a cry tore from her throat.

  Brand turned his head and kissed her cheek. “I know, baby. I know.” He powered in, driving straight up, not stopping until his cock was swallowed whole.

  Lyssa groaned and wound her legs tightly around his waist.

  “Didn’t know if I’d be here again, you inside me—”

  “Damn near killed me—”

  “Christ, don’t slow down,” she said—urgent, agonizing need curling around her womb as Brand thrust rapidly, powering into her. “What about…sheriff?” she gasped.

  “Danny…has better sense,” he gritted out, slamming his mouth over hers as his strokes shortened, sharpened, tunneling so deep she knew neither of them would last long.

  The first spiraling ripples hit her so fast she half groaned, half laughed and let go, following him to the edge of ecstasy, before tumbling headfirst. Her whole body spasmed, her vagina clamping hard around his cock.

  “Lysssss…” he groaned, his movements growing jerky, desperate.

  She raised her hands and framed his cheeks, staring into his face as the moment hit him.

  His eyes closed, his lips pulled away from his teeth in a feral grimace. Then cum jetted inside her in scalding spurts.

  As he slowed the movement of his hips, lapping gently inside her, she pressed kisses to his neck, his jaw, at last kissing his mouth.

  Their lips glided together and apart as he continued to rock against her. “Don’t want it to end. God…feels incredible.”

  She kissed him again and then settled back, feasting her eyes on him. How incredibly beautiful he was—the sharp edge of his jaw grinding hard, his brown eyes locking with her gaze as if he couldn’t look away.

  “I love you, Lyss,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper.

  Her eyes filled, blurring his features. “I love you, too.”

  “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Another quick kiss, and she nodded, nuzzling his neck as he settled atop her body, surrounding her completely.

  A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

  Brand sighed and turned to shout over his shoulder, “Be out in a few minutes.” Turning back to her, he gave her a crooked smile. “Thought Danny would stall them a little longer.”

  “When did you have a chance to arrange this with him?”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “One of those guy things? Danger over, knees no longer wobbling, gotta have sex?”

  “My knees never wobbled. Woman, anyone ever tell you you’ve got a smart mouth?”

  “You. More times than I can count.” She grinned slowly, warmth spreading through her chest as his lips finally relaxed and slipped into a sexy smile.

  “Did you mean it?” she asked softly.

  “Every word. All three.”

  “Think Mac will approve?”

  “Wishing he were here?”

  She nodded, hoping she wasn’t about to dissolve into tears again. But her heart felt so full.

  He turned his head to kiss her open palm before looking down again. “I think Mac expected this to happen.”

  “Smart man, my brother.”

  “Want to wait until he’s back to get married?”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Are you kidding? And live in sin until he gets here? He’ll kick your ass.”

  “Soon as we get a license, then.”

  Again she nodded. With her breaths evening, slowing, she began to smooth her hands over his shoulders, his back, loving the hard, unforgiving strength of his lean, muscled frame. “What must Danny be thinking?”

  “That I’m damn lucky to have you.” His jaw flexed. A swallow rippled along his throat. “You okay? No bad moments?”

  Lyssa shook her head and hugged him one last time and then let him go. As he rolled from the bed and picked up the clothes from the floor, Lyssa knew she was the lucky one.

  “Tell me,” he said, buttoning his shirt, “were you tellin’ me the truth when you said any man would do?”

  She narrowed her eyes, giving his body a sexy once-over. “Any man who just happens to live on the ranch next door.”

  The corners of his lips tipped upward. “You could have gone for Danny.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Too young. I prefer a man with enough experience to know his way around a woman’s body.”

  A grin tugged at his lips. “Narrows it down a bit but there could still be a couple of hands who fit that description,” he said, finishing the buttons on his cuffs.

  “Hmmm…” she said, pr
etending to consider it. “They don’t make me weak just looking at them.”

  A look of pure male satisfaction darkened his features. “I do that?”

  She nodded and strolled slowly toward him. “They don’t make me almost come with their mouth on my breasts.”

  “I’ll have to try harder later.”

  She reached up and closed a button near the top of his shirt before looking into his eyes. “They don’t make me think about babies and forever.” She paused and licked her lips. “That scare you? The babies part?”

  “Not a bit. So long as every one of them’s mine.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a saucy smile. “You probably figure a big belly is the best kind of brand.”

  “Uh-huh. But doesn’t mean I won’t want to give you a reminder or two about the rules later tonight.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Cowboy, I’m countin’ on it.”

  Slow Ride

  1

  Sometimes destiny rushed up to meet a man head-on; sometimes he just had to take a step backward.

  Daniel Tynan raised his arms to stretch his back, wincing at a twinge in a muscle behind his shoulder. Although accustomed to physical labor, he’d overdone it today, but the effort had been well worth it.

  Glancing out a window, he noted the darkness and raked his hand through his hair, grimacing when he pulled away pieces of straw. He’d dragged his feet long enough.

  He picked his Stetson off the corner post of the last stall he’d cleaned and set it on top of his head. His first day at Wasp Creek Ranch had left him feeling deeply satisfied with his choice, despite the aches. He was needed here.

  Seven years had passed since he’d spent a summer wrangling under Douglas Dermott’s tutelage, learning how to work with the horses. Quarter horses for reining, cutting, and racing, as well as the occasional Appaloosa. Douglas had loved them all, had taken pride in his breeding program and shared his skill as a trainer with quiet patience.

  A raw teenager, Danny had been eager to take on a new challenge—one not so far removed from his own upbringing on a cattle ranch that he’d felt completely out of his element.

  He’d learned a lot from Douglas.

  Too bad he’d returned the gift by lusting after the man’s wife.

  Even at the time, the irony of his situation hadn’t escaped Danny. He’d lost his mother when she’d run off with a younger man, which made his own addiction all the more disturbing.

  Days ago, when the job notice had appeared on Tara Toomey’s bulletin board, he’d felt shaken, reminded of his indiscretion. Nevertheless, he’d been curious about the widow and how she’d fared since the death of her husband. He didn’t question the urge that had him faxing an application to her foreman as soon as Brand had given him the green light to go.

  Reggie Haskell remembered him, calling him the next day to offer him the job. Which had surprised him, given that Reggie had been all too aware of Danny’s old obsession with “Miz Dermott.”

  However, it seemed the Dermott’s ranch wasn’t doing well, and the widow needed all the experienced help she could find to get horses ready for auction while she put the ranch up for sale.

  Even beneath a darkening sky, Danny could see the subtle signs of distress. A barn that needed a coat of paint. Stalls not as meticulously kept as they should have been. A diminished herd—still prime horseflesh—but only a shadow of the animals Douglas had taken so much pride in introducing to a young man.

  Without Douglas’s leadership, the widow hadn’t been able to manage as well. Local banks didn’t have confidence in her ability to keep the ranch in the red, hiking up the interest rates on the seasonal loans she’d needed to stay afloat.

  That the entire county suffered under a long drought, forcing them to buy more hay to compensate for the fields of scorched grass they’d lost, had only added to her woes.

  From Reggie, Danny had gotten a laundry list of the problems they’d faced in the last three years. While he’d listened, Danny’s mind kept wandering back to Douglas’s widow.

  How heartbreaking to lose her husband and now face losing the ranch. Yet Danny couldn’t stem the shameful rush of elation that swept through him when he thought of her—all alone, perhaps in need of a man’s comfort.

  Although no longer a gangly teen, he had no illusions that she might take an interest in him now. Seven years had passed, but another dozen or so still separated them in age. She’d given him a room inside her home rather than a rough cot in the mostly empty bunkhouse. The same room he’d stayed in the last time he’d been here.

  She hadn’t seen him as anything other than a boy then. Apparently she still didn’t.

  This time, he held a halfhearted wish he’d see her only as an attractive older woman. After all, he’d had more experience with the opposite sex since his younger days. Was more jaded where women were concerned, was less impressed with a fine figure and a pair of dewy brown eyes.

  That wish bit the dust just before suppertime that day, when Danny had stood in the doorway of the barn, rubbing oil into the old saddle he’d brought with him. Though he hadn’t bothered bringing a horse, preferring to travel light, he liked working with his own equipment. Besides, the saddle held sentimental value. It had been his father’s and was the first saddle Danny had ever ridden.

  From the corner of his eye, he’d watched the front door of the ranch house open. His hand had hovered over the leather as he’d gazed from the shadows at the woman who’d stepped onto the wide porch of the white, clapboard ranch house to shake out a throw rug, her body jerking in delicious little waves.

  “You’re not thinkin’ about slidin’ back into that old saddle, again, are ya?” Reggie muttered from behind him.

  Danny glanced back and flashed the older man a smile, narrowing his eyes to warn him to mind his own damn business. “Maybe I’ll just polish her up and take her for a ride.”

  Reggie shook his head. “A fine animal like that needs a firm hand and follow through. You give her too much rein, and you’ll never get her to go where you want her to.”

  Without another word, Reggie led a mare from the barn, leaving Danny to wonder whether he’d been talking about the woman or the horse.

  Reggie’s words had stuck with him the rest of the day.

  He’d worked steadily, mucking stalls, inventorying and tidying equipment he’d need in the coming days.

  He headed back from the barn in the darkness, having purposely delayed the moment he had to face her.

  He’d worried she might read his interest in his face. Or, worse, that he might give away his shame with a stammer or a blush—not that he did that much these days. But he remembered how easily she’d disarmed him, made him feel as though he had two left feet each time he fell under the spell of her soft brown gaze.

  He’d stalled long enough. Missed dinner because he hadn’t wanted to see her for the first time surrounded by a group of rowdy cowboys at the large kitchen table.

  Needing to look his fill, unremarked by anyone else, he wanted to catch her unawares, note the changes close-up in her face and lush figure, and just maybe lay to rest the attraction that had burned through him the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

  Lights blazed on the wide wraparound porch as he approached the house. One lit a back-room window.

  Mostly hidden by a large live oak, he shouldn’t have noted it. However, he remembered all too well the window belonged to her bathroom.

  One he hadn’t been able to resist peering inside seven years ago when he’d been a lonely teen, missing his parents and his older brother and lusting after a woman who didn’t see him as anything more than a boy.

  His steps slowed. He pulled a ragged pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn’t smoke much, but right now he needed an excuse to linger outside.

  He tamped a cigarette against the side of a finger, stuck the butt in his mouth, and lit the end, drawing deeply as he stared at the window with the slatted b
linds and remembered.

  Maggie Dermott had been everything a boy starving for a woman’s attention could want.

  The picture of her rounded figure, glossy brown hair and wide, doelike brown eyes still burned in his mind. The first time she’d turned her soft gaze on him and offered him a smile, she’d melted him all the way to his toes.

  She’d been lovely. Soft and womanly. Smelled of roses and soap and freshly baked bread.

  He’d had a lot of time to rationalize his obsession. He’d been close to his mother, missing her terribly when she’d abandoned them all, leaving him in the care of his father until he’d managed to drink himself to death.

  Afterward, Brandon had kept the ranch afloat, providing a familiar roof over his head, but he’d had his own grief to deal with and a whole new set of responsibilities to keep him occupied.

  Daniel had felt the loss of his mother most keenly. Still, he didn’t think that totally explained his attraction to his boss’s young wife.

  Nor did it excuse the fact he’d watched her.

  The night Danny had surrendered to her sensual appeal, Douglas had attended an out-of-town auction. Danny had walked from the barn, saw the light shining from the narrow window, a shadow passing in front of the curtain, and he’d crept behind the large oak. The curtain had been parted, just enough for him to peek inside.

  He’d told himself he wouldn’t linger, would just get a quick glance and be on his way. Satisfy his curiosity about her and leave her alone.

  Maggie Dermott had stood in front of her mirror, her blouse removed, both hands cupping large breasts over her functional white bra, massaging them as though they ached.

  The sight of her partially disrobed had his body tensing hard, his groin filling quickly.

  Her expression held him spellbound.

  Pretty, bowed lips parted breathlessly, her eyelids drifted shut, and then she reached behind her to unhook her bra.

  When the garment slid away, he’d had his first full view of a woman’s mature breasts.

  Sure, he’d fondled several classmates, slipped his hands inside their underwear to explore, but he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Maggie Dermott’s creamy, rose-tipped breasts.