by Cat Johnson
“Just as I sometimes fantasize about not having responsibility for every roof leak, floor squeak, or plumbing problem.”
Although she chuckled, he believed she still envied him. Funny how he’d gotten this old knowing so little about how people who weren’t part of the ranching business lived or, more importantly, thought.
He’d jammed his hands in his rear pockets. He drew them out, then asked himself what the hell he was supposed to do with them. If he placed one on his thigh, would she remember when she’d touched him there?
“You’re comfortable being here alone with me,” he mused.
She laced her fingers together and clenched them so her knuckles whitened. “I’m not sure comfort is the word I’d use.”
Their conversation had taken a hard right turn. He could either ignore her comment or run with it. The thing was, he’d spent his entire adult life making decisions. This wasn’t so different from deciding how many head of cattle to take to BLM land, when to brand the calves, and whether to buy a bull or rely on artificial insemination.
What the hell was he thinking? Tonight was about . . . maybe about sex.
“Why don’t you spell out why you decided to make the drive out here?” He positioned himself directly in front of her so his legs and more were within reach.
She gnawed on her lower lip. “I could give you some BS, but that’s not what I want to do.” She chewed some more. “I’m not good at the subtle approach. Hell, I pretty much suck at any approach when it comes to letting a man know I’m interested.”
Interested. “How about coming right out and saying it?” He sounded more confident than he felt.
“That isn’t fair. You’re putting all the pressure on me.” She closed her eyes and leaned back. Doing so drew his attention to her breasts. “All right, I’m going for broke.” Her eyes opened. “You’re one sexy man.”
Damn it, he didn’t know what to do with her declaration. His sisters had teased that he was a bundle of sex appeal in jeans and old shirts, and he’d garnered enough female attention to gather they were speaking the truth. The flip side of that was his lifestyle meant he seldom had opportunity to take advantage of how the way he fit his clothes impacted women.
“You’re pretty sexy yourself.” Shit. Did I really say that?
When she plucked at her sweater, he half-expected her to say something about this old thing. If she did, he wouldn’t feel as inept as he did. Instead, she went back to clenching her hands together. Seeing her nervousness settled him. He’d never tell her this, but she reminded him of a green broke filly in need of steadying hands. He could do that, show her the way to trust. He might not know their destination, but he had no doubt about their first step.
Smiling, he held out his hand. “I’m a direct man. I don’t have enough time for anything else.”
She placed her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. He didn’t let go. “Thank you. It’s what I need tonight.”
“Why’s that?”
“I think you know.”
“Maybe. I need to ask you something. Is there a man in your life?”
“Not anymore.”
Let it go. You don’t need to know more than you do. “But there was.”
“Of course. Just about every woman has one of those in her past.”
“Tell me about him.”
When she pulled her hand out of his, he wondered if he’d pushed her too far. As he’d done earlier, she walked over to the window. Maybe night was calling to her. Maybe she was pulling herself together.
“Ruy rode broncs for a living, at least he tried to.”
“Rodeo cowboy?”
She leaned her head against the glass. “He was addicted to the lifestyle, the danger, the excitement that went with the occasional win. For too long I felt the same way.”
“What changed things for you?”
To her credit, she faced him before answering. “We never spent more than a handful of nights in the same place. It was nearly impossible for me to make a living, but I picked up a few bucks working at the concession stands during the performances. I wrote articles for Rodeo Ride and occasionally helped out in various rodeo offices. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.” She paused. “I needed to have steady income and to feel as if I belonged somewhere.”
“He’s still on the circuit?”
She shrugged. “He was the last time I heard from him. He’d just broken a rib, again, and wasn’t sure he could tape it securely enough to be able to ride. I used to do things like that for him. Telling me what he did was his way of asking me to come back.”
Things were getting deeper than he’d intended, but he needed to know as much as possible. “Were you tempted?”
The lamplight wasn’t strong enough to do away with all of the room’s shadows. As a result, he could only guess at her expression. Then she looked at the floor and he sensed he was going to get the truth.
“For about five seconds. Then what our life had been like flooded over me.” She sighed. “I’m not sure whether I loved him or had been drawn to the heady feeling that went with watching him astride a bucking bronc. One thing I do know is I sleep better these days.”
“The rodeo life can be addictive. Don’t blame him for not being able to break free.”
She nodded and hugged herself. “You sound as if you know what you’re talking about.”
Why were they so far apart? That wasn’t how he wanted things to be. “I went through a wild phase. Like a lot of young men, I thought I had to prove something. I did all right in the roping events, enough to pay the bills most of the time.”
On the tail of another nod, she returned to him and placed her hands on his upper arms. “What made you stop? Did you get hurt?”
If she expected him to keep his hands off her, she was seriously overestimating his self-restraint. Determined to lay it all out on the table, he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her close. Flesh pressed against flesh.
“No, but my dad did. He’d broken both ankles and his wrist falling off the roof. They needed me.”
Her breath dampened his throat. “The poor man. How did you feel about having to put responsibility ahead of trying your wings?”
The question wasn’t casual. “No one asked me to return, but the minute I stepped foot back here I knew I’d done the right thing. I didn’t need to see the world after all. This is enough.”
Her hands traveled from his arms to his shoulders and then around his neck. She stood on tiptoe.
“That’s what it means to be a cowboy, isn’t it?” she asked in a whisper.
“It is for me.” Her breasts were against his ribs, her voice easy on his ears and electric to the rest of him, and for now he was done talking.
5
What was she doing? Just minutes ago she’d been eating pepperoni, sausage, and black olives with a man she needed to interview for an article about . . . about what?
To hell with the job. To hell with telling Mike about the time she’d spent with Ruy and asking Mike about his ex.
The rancher’s arms were around her and he showed no sign of wanting or intending to let go, not that she wanted him to. A new chapter had begun in their fledgling relationship. It might not last beyond tonight, but no one could predict the future, so why not embrace these hours? The adventure.
“I haven’t been with anyone since I left Ruy,” she admitted. “I, uh, I thought you should know.”
“Picking up and going on isn’t easy. I’ve been divorced for over a year. There’ve been three—it was pretty much all about sex.”
Her calves protested having to bear her weight, so she lowered herself onto the balls of her feet. Mike was enough taller that she couldn’t keep her arms around his neck, so she settled for flattening her hands over his chest. She’d been pawed several times while on the rodeo circuit and would have been raped one summer night if the drunken bull rider’s friends hadn’t intervened. In stark contrast with that fear-filled battle, she fel
t safe with Mike.
Safe?
Not a condition she was interested in.
“I told you about those encounters,” he said, “because I think we need to clarify where we’re headed.”
The question of intimacy hadn’t been spelled out, but there was no doubt she wanted him. Had come here to—
Unexpectedly on the verge of tears, she pushed back until his features cleared. Then she waited some more until she felt capable of talking. “What do you want from tonight?”
“Good question. I’m not sure I can put it into words. Ranching has taught me a lot about commitment. There’s no going into this partway. I think that’s why I don’t do well with casual encounters or one-night stands. If that’s what you’re after—”
“No, it isn’t.” He deserved more, but she’d given him all she could for now.
“Good. When I stepped into the shower, I wished you were in it with me. I think that’s when I realized how much of an impact you’d made.”
“In other words, earlier today you were too busy to give me a moment’s thought?”
He trailed his hands down her hips and closed his fingers around her sweater’s hem. Her heart skipped beats.
“Oh, you warranted more than a passing thought, but you’re right. Other things took priority.”
She’d bought this sweater because it felt like silk on her skin, but right now it weighed a hundred pounds and abraded her suddenly overly sensitive shoulders, back, arms, and midsection.
“A lot on your mind,” she belatedly came up with.
“The herd’s where they need to be. I don’t need to concern myself with them anymore tonight.”
She understood what he had in mind. Hell, she wanted it with an intensity that nearly made her scream. Why, then, wasn’t she doing her part when he started bringing the sweater up to her waist? Maybe he’d sensed her turmoil, because he stopped and looked down at her, patience and understanding riding in his dark eyes.
Of course, a man who dealt with dumb animals for a living had to be tolerant.
Done with trying to understand what the hell was going through her, she backed away and lifted her arms. He drew the soft, bulky fabric over her ribs, bra, shoulders, and chin. Going slow, he tugged it over her head. Her hair snapped and undoubtedly stood out from the electricity he’d created.
As he tossed the garment onto the chair she’d been sitting in, she made a half-hearted attempt to tame her hair.
“Don’t. I like it like that.”
All right. Fine. Wonderful, in fact. “Your turn. What’s under that shirt?”
“Bone and muscle, but I’m not ready to get out of my clothes. It’s still your turn.”
She hadn’t seen that clause in the seduction manual, but then her copy was pretty incomplete.
“All right,” she said. “What next? My jeans?”
He cocked his head as if she’d asked a complex question. Next to what she’d seen on beaches and in magazines, what she wore was hardly scandalous and barely seductive, but she felt vulnerable and exposed. The way he was looking at her didn’t help—or maybe it did. With every passing second she felt more womanly. More desirable.
“The bra.”
For a full second she struggled with the impulse to turn and run, but she wasn’t some virgin. Mike Moss’s career called for being involved in his herd’s most basic activities. He saw birth and death, watched bulls service cows.
Even as she reminded herself that she wasn’t a four-legged meal ticket, she reached behind her and unfastened the hook. Her intention, if she’d had one, had been to whip off the garment and dramatically drop it on top of her sweater. Then his eyes widened and his lips parted and she changed her mind.
Filled with daring, she placed one arm over her breasts to keep the bra in place. That done, she slowly guided one strap off her shoulder and down her arm. She wasn’t model-thin, but watching what she ate and running four or five mornings a week kept her lean.
His hand moved to his cock. When he cupped himself, her mouth dried. So she wasn’t the only one capable of giving out signals. If he wanted to play a game—that’s what he was doing, wasn’t he?—she’d give as good as she got.
At least she’d try.
Her hand shook enough to make the act of lowering the other strap nearly impossible, but at long last her bra sagged over her breasts, held in place by her arm.
“Do it,” he said. “Now.”
He was used to doing what needed to be done. Having her set tonight’s pace had to be hard on him, but she wanted to see how he’d handle it. Maybe the truth was she was using this slow strip to turn herself on even more.
She took hold of the top of her bra with both hands and pulled the garment away from her body. As she did, her throat tightened, and she filled her lungs in an effort to keep from becoming too light-headed. Heated moisture pooled inside her sex.
Lay me down. Spread my legs and settle yourself over me. Slide your hands under my buttocks. Lift me, lift me. Enter. Take me away. Make me scream.
Mike held out his hand and she surrendered her bra to him. It dangled from his fingers as he studied her. Wishing she knew what to do with herself, she alternated between lacing her hands together over her belly and jamming them in her front pockets. No matter what she did, his attention didn’t leave her breasts.
She wanted, needed to say something. This silence was killing her and his gaze had become a flame.
“Turn around,” he said. “I want to see all of you.”
All? She was still dressed from the waist down.
She’d completed a half rotation and her back was to him when his fingertips settled on the tops of her shoulders. A whimper pressed against her lips. She stopped moving.
“So soft. So fragile,” he muttered.
“I’m, ah, pretty strong.”
“Soft.” He made his point by trailing his fingers over her shoulder blades. She shivered, then gripped her waistband to have something to do with her hands. The warmth between her legs was already at a dangerous level. How would she handle more from him?
He’s just getting started.
“Your body fascinates me.” His breath slipped into her hair. “All of it.”
Having her back to him was disconcerting. At the same time, she longed to demonstrate to both of them that she trusted him.
Holding herself still and straight, she mentally followed the tingles racing over her spine as he continued tracing the lines of her shoulder blades. Each journey took him closer to the small of her back. When his fingers brushed her backbone, another moan fought for freedom. After what seemed like forever, he touched her waist. She reached behind her.
“This is about trusting me, Kathy. You do, don’t you?”
“I want to.”
His sigh said she hadn’t given him enough, but it was the best she could. She forced her arms by her side only to repeat her earlier move when his fingernails lightly raked the base of her spine.
“My God,” she whispered.
“Trust.”
“I’m trying—”
“Let me. That’s all I’m asking.”
He caught her wrists, folded them one over the other, and secured them behind her with a single large hand. Instead of ordering him to release her, she looked over her shoulder and up at him.
“I know how to gentle frightened or wary animals,” he told her as he covered the back of her neck with his free hand. “Try thinking of yourself as one of them. You want to be free and yet you don’t. You’re tired of being alone, need someone to take over.”
Having her hands restrained both unsettled and intrigued her. Mike Moss was in control. Unless she commanded him not to, he’d manage the pace and direction of everything that took place between them.
Yes, oh yes!
“When you were with Ruy, which of you was responsible for making sure the entry fees were paid? Who made sure there was gas in the truck and decent tires? Who worried about getting to a rodeo on time?
Who took care of him when he was hurt?”
“Me. Always me.”
“Not tonight. Not with me.”
Fingers that had held leather reins for hours today slipped into her hair and he began massaging the back of her head. Then his hold tightened and he drew her head back. She looked up at him, saw power, promise, and compassion.
“My ex said I didn’t know how to pamper a woman,” he told her. “I tried when we were first married. I wasn’t perfect, but at least I tried. After a while I realized nothing I did would satisfy her. Tonight I want to please you. At the same time, I’m going to do it my way because that’s all I know.”
Was he looking for validation that he was a good lover? That didn’t feed into what she sensed about him. Besides, how could he expect her to judge his performance, if that’s what he wanted, when she was so caught up in her own reactions?
Leaving trying to hold on to the conversation for later, she studied what her position had done to her breasts. With her back bowed, it seemed as if they’d become the most prominent part of her body. The room was warm enough so she wasn’t chilled. Mike was responsible for her tight nipples.
“You’re supple,” he muttered as he released her wrists. “Flexible.”
“That’s good?” Her arms flopped to her sides. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t summon the strength to lift them.
“Very good. All right, I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer.”
His light tone kept her from taking his comment too seriously. Even as her body hummed and sparked, she looked forward to learning what he had in mind.
Mike’s hold on her hair had slackened. Now he let go and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Going slow, he drew her to him so his cock pressed into the base of her spine. Settling her hands over his forearm, she widened her stance. Offered more of herself to him.
Instead of placing his hand between her legs as she wanted, he cupped her left breast. The pale mound disappeared under his tanned flesh. He’d sealed her to him. Given her even more reason to see herself as a sexual being.