In a Cowboy’s Bed

by Cat Johnson

  “Question number one.” He began massaging her breast. “How did you lose your virginity?”

  He expected her to think? “I was in . . . in high school. After the senior prom. My date knew someone whose parents were out of town. A bunch of us went to their place.”

  “Did your parents know?”

  She tried to shake her head. “By then my dad was out of the picture. Mom—as I remember she was dating someone.”

  “In other words, neither of your parents cared.”

  “No.” Only a few hours ago her emotions would have snagged over the admission, but Mike Moss had taken her past that and into sensation. The need for honesty. “I’d been pretty much responsible for myself for several years.”

  “Is that why you slept with him?” Mike switched from her left breast to the right, embracing and instantly heating it. “You saw sex as proof that you were an adult?”

  No matter that she commanded her legs to remain still, they refused to obey. One knee and then the other bent and straightened. Repeated the act. Her cheeks were on fire. As for the heat deep inside—

  “I’d been drinking. I wasn’t drunk, but it was enough that when he started taking off my clothes—”

  “Like I’m doing now?”

  The same and yet a world and years different. “I remember feeling more alive than I thought it was possible to be. I was kind of scared because I didn’t know what to expect. At the same time I wanted my . . . deflowering over with.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  Even with her ability to concentrate severely compromised, she laughed. “He came so fast it was over almost before I knew he was inside me.”

  “Pain?”

  “Not much. Also . . .”

  “Also what?” he encouraged as he rested his hand between her breasts. Nearly touched her heart.

  Lordy! “There . . . were other couples in the house.” Soon she’d tell him how much his rough hands on her soft flesh increased her pleasure, soon. “I was scared they’d know what we were up to, which was silly because they were doing the same thing.”

  “Of course they were. If you were going to give your first sexual experience a grade, what would it be?”

  She couldn’t fathom why this mattered to him, but if he wanted answers, she’d give them to him—somehow. He’d left her breasts hot and hungry, anxiously waiting for his hand’s return.

  “A D. Maybe a C-minus because he apologized for having a hair trigger.”

  “What about birth control?”

  On the verge of telling him she was done with the subject, she realized he’d been after something deeper than a glimpse into her sexual past.

  His hand remained between her breasts, half promise, half torture. The arm over her collar kept her warm and protected there. Sealed to him. Craving more.

  “My mother had a lot of faults, but she’d been knocked up when she was a teenager. She didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. When I was sixteen she took me to a doctor and got me on the pill.”

  “Did she talk to you about your reputation, being a good girl?”

  “We didn’t have those kinds of conversations.”

  “Damn her.”

  She’d gone through a period when she’d cursed her mother, so having Mike do the same shouldn’t bother her and yet it did.

  “I refuse to blame my mother for how she did or didn’t raise me. She did the best she was capable of. If nothing else, I learned a lot from her mistakes. Hopefully I won’t do the same with my own children.”

  Mike began massaging her right shoulder. She sighed and leaned back against him. After a sigh of his own, he splayed the fingers of the hand between her breasts and drew her even closer to him. Sealed them together in ways that threatened to make her crazy.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said, “but I need to say it. I feel sorry for you. Wish you’d had more than you did growing up. My parents—my family dynamics aren’t what a lot of people experience, but I think it’d be better if they could.”

  Don’t make me want what I didn’t have. It won’t change anything. “There’d probably be fewer screwed-up people.”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head. “You aren’t screwed up.”

  “No? Then what am I doing with a man who asks so many damn questions?”

  His chuckle vibrated through her and lightened her mood. “Point taken. What does this do to you?”

  Almost before she knew what he was up to, he’d shifted his hold so one masculine arm lay over her breasts. The other dispensed with her jeans’ fastening and released the zipper. When he slipped his fingers beneath her panties, she took an unsteady breath and thrust her pelvis at him. Much as she needed his hand on her sex, her damnable jeans made that impossible. Beyond caring how much she was revealing, she dug her nails into the back of the hand against her breasts. Next she gripped the masculine wrist near her mons and drew his hand downward.

  He chuckled again. “No objections to where we’re going?”

  Be honest. Do nothing less. “No, none.”

  Seconds passed as he kept her sealed to him. No longer feeling him against her back was driving her crazy, almost as much as the masculine fingers scant inches from her core. She’d been wrong to think she could direct anything about him, so she simply kept her hands on his wrists.

  Mike’s strength came from the way he earned a living, not time spent in some gym. His calluses stood as proof of his physical life. Clothes served no purpose other than to stand between him and the elements. Earlier today, one of the others had asked if his hip still hurt. He’d responded with a dismissive shrug and tonight he showed no sign of having been injured.

  He wouldn’t. Mike was self-contained where Ruy had needed applause, calm in contrast to Ruy’s excitability, but they had at least one thing in common. Both men refused to pamper themselves. They handled pain and injury by ignoring those things as much as possible. It had taken her too long to acknowledge the flaws in Ruy’s makeup, but finally there was no denying that he took risks for risk’s sake. He was macho, a young man determined to prove something that mattered only to himself.

  In contrast, Mike saw aches and pains, even the danger that went with being in the forest during a snowstorm, simply as part of the job requirement.

  Mike who’d gotten her naked from the waist up and would soon finish the job.

  Mike who, maybe, wanted her to spend the night.

  She could. Her aunt had gone to Las Vegas with friends, which meant no one cared when she came and went. Acknowledging her lack of close contacts bothered her a little, but not for long. How could it when Mike Moss held her as if she were the only other human in the world?

  On some level, it killed her to do so, but she pulled his arm off her breasts so she could turn around. He could have stopped her. Instead, he withdrew his hand from under her panties. Left her hungry there.

  Shaking, she pressed her hands against his cheeks and drew his head down so she could look into his eyes.

  “I’m trying to get a handle on you,” she admitted. “I want to make you a simple man, cowboy and rancher, but you won’t fit in that box.”

  His gaze raked over her exposed breasts, then returned to her face. “That matters now?”

  “I know it sounds crazy.” Emboldened by sexual hunger, she tugged his shirt hem out of his waistband and lifted the garment until she’d exposed a few inches of flesh. His jeans hugged his hips, dipped a little at his belly, hinted at what lay below that. Her lips went numb, and she berated herself for not grinding her ass against him when she’d had the chance. “I shouldn’t—the timing for this sucks—but I need to have sex with more than a body.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. Despite the warning in his expression, she wasn’t ready when he gripped her jeans and gave the garment a downward tug. He didn’t stop pulling until he’d exposed most of her stomach. He’d included her panties in the undressing.

  “I’m looking at a body,” h
e said, “but I’m going to have sex with a lot more.”

  He wanted her to feel the same way he did. Even though she hadn’t come close to peeling away the layers to Mike’s core, he was too close and warm and alive for anything except this physical journey they were on to matter.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said with his fingers on her waistband, “I’m flattered by your interest in me. I feel the same way about you. At the same time, I can’t ignore what brought us together. The leasing program.”

  He hadn’t known he was going to say that; she could all but touch his surprise. “I don’t blame you just as it has occurred to me that this”—she indicated his erection—“might be part of your plan to get me on your side.”

  “It isn’t. I don’t do deception.”

  No, he wouldn’t. He was honest and expected the same from others. “I don’t know what’s going to come out of our time together,” she told him. “But tonight is for exploration, nothing more.”

  “In other words, we’ll face tomorrow when it comes?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “All right. More than all right, in fact.”

  Hoping he wouldn’t ever have reason to regret what they were about to do, she held out her hand as if intent on closing a deal. “You’re right,” she said. “We’ve gone deep enough for now.”

  He gave her hand a business-like shake, then held on to it much longer than necessary. Finally, he let go.

  His smile became more than a hint. “Stand there. No matter what I do, I’d like you to simply stand there.”

  “No.”

  A finger brushed her navel. “No?”

  Teeth clenched against the cry trying to break free, she managed to shake her head. “Not until you get rid of this.” Taking hold of his shirt again, she pulled up on it.

  “And that matters why?”

  “It does!” She didn’t want to snap at him, but damn it, with every moment she was losing more of her sanity. “It just does, all right?”

  On the tail of a chuckle that enveloped her, he drew the garment out of her hands and tugged it over his head. She wanted to touch him, but her arms had become too heavy. Fighting light-headedness, she stared at what he’d revealed.

  Dark hairs lay like a thin curtain over his well-tanned chest. Muscles didn’t bulge so much as proclaim their presence. There was nothing soft about him, not a hint of weakness in his wide shoulders and faintly visible ribs. Her fingers tingled in anticipation of touching him. Her nipples knotted and between her legs—damn, sex couldn’t come soon enough.

  “You’re tanned,” she managed. “Obviously you go around shirtless, but . . .”

  “Am I an exhibitionist, is that what you were going to ask?”

  She didn’t think so, but maybe. Maybe anything.

  “Winters last a long time,” he told her. “I try to soak up as much vitamin D as I can.”

  “Besides,” she blurted, “you know it drives the women crazy.”

  “What women? I’m related to the only ones who come out here.”

  And you spend most of your time here. It’s your world. She should have wrapped her mind around his ties to the land by now, but his commitment continued to impress her.

  “Then you’re saying I’m being granted a rare sight?” She started to step closer but was forced to stop when her half-mast jeans threatened to trip her. Maybe she should have pulled them back into place so he’d have to start all over again, but her hips, belly, buttocks, and legs had become sensitive. She wanted her clothes gone.

  Leaving him to draw his own conclusions about why she was doing what she was, she pushed the denim as far down as she could and started to step out of the left leg. The fabric hung up on her foot and she started to pitch forward.

  “Easy there.” He took hold of her shoulders. “I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

  “That makes two of us.” Chagrined over her lack of grace, she let him support her as she shook one leg and then the other free. She wasted no time pulling off her panties.

  Naked.

  Ready for sex.

  As her throat closed, she backed away. Mike let go of her shoulders. For too long she stood before him not knowing what to do with her body, what, if anything, to say. Then she remembered what she’d been about to do before her clothes distracted her.

  Touch him. Take this to the next step.

  Eager as she was to do just that, she had to drop her gaze to the floor before she found the courage to enter his space and lift her hands to his chest. In contrast to his weathered hands, the flesh over his sternum was both taut and velvety. She longed to brush her lips against him there. Still unsure of herself, she stroked. Created small circles with her fingertips.

  “Damn,” he whispered as he took hold of her wrists. His eyes were at half mast, his lips slack.

  “Are you saying you like?” She slipped a little closer, then shivered as his body heat poured into her.

  “I’m saying you’re making me crazy.”

  Even as she traced his collarbone’s firm ridge, she wondered when she’d tell him she felt the same way. Her eyes wouldn’t stay open. Darkness surrounded her, drew her into a formless world where only the two of them lived. She was turned on all right, so damn hot it hurt. But what she felt for Mike Moss went beyond the physical.

  “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “You’re ready?”

  For sex? Hell yes! “We could—if you want . . .” She forced herself to open her eyes and tried to make sense of his living room. Chairs and couches. Tables, lamps, a dark TV. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “Don’t try. Ah, shit.”

  His curse brought her closer to reality. Somehow her hands had traveled from his chest to his waist. A few more inches and they’d settle over his belly, tease his navel, maybe caress his pelvis bones.

  And then—yes! Then . . .

  “I feel as if I’m sixteen,” he said, his voice tight. “Hair trigger.”

  She’d been so intent on her own reaction, she hadn’t concerned herself with what was happening to him. She still didn’t particularly care, but maybe the only way she’d keep from losing her mind was by tapping into his.

  Not sure whether she could pull it off, she settled her hands over his waist, leaned back, and looked down. The way Mike’s jeans stretched over his erection, she guessed it had to be painful. Fighting light-headedness, she stared pointedly. “I can help.”

  His chuckle carried a rough note. “You’ve already helped more than enough. What you’re going to do right now is stand there with your hands at your sides.”

  And not touch me, she finished for him. At his command, she was again struck by how easy it was for him to take control of a situation. Her father hadn’t been a constant while she was growing up, and her mother saw life as something that happened to her. She’d worked hard to develop self-confidence, and succeeded most of the time. However, her ability to stand on her own two feet paled next to what Mike had achieved.

  Those thoughts and others, distracted by physical need, tapped at her. After a supreme effort, she found herself standing some three feet from Mike watching as he disposed of his jeans and briefs. When she’d first seen him tonight she’d been a little disappointed because he hadn’t been wearing boots. She’d reminded herself that he’d recently taken a shower and probably didn’t anticipate going outside again, but still, cowboy boots were part of the package.

  Now she was glad he’d been barefoot.

  Mike. Naked.

  She couldn’t see his buttocks. Fortunately, earlier glimpses of that part of his anatomy when it was covered by denim had left her knowing it epitomized the perfect male form as far as she was concerned. Lean and hard was good. Mouthwatering good.

  To hell with his ass. His erect cock was front and center, the shaft jutting out from a dark nest of hair and partly obscuring his scrotum. As for the head, ah, the head! Promising pleasure.

  Envy lashed her when he cupped his cock’s u
nderside, forcing her to clench her fingers to keep from trying to take over. She loved everything about how he looked without a stitch on. His stance was perhaps a little wider than necessary. Maybe he was determined to get across the point that he was in charge of not just his body but everything about tonight. In contrast to his suntanned chest, his belly and thighs were pale, but she didn’t mind. Didn’t mind at all.

  Mike epitomized what she’d long thought a mature man should look like—powerful without overwhelming, healthy, and self-assured. Strong enough for everything life threw at him.

  Sexy. So damn sexy.

  “Now,” he said, “we’re ready.”

  6

  Kathy barely noticed Mike’s bedroom. Granted neither of them had turned on a light, which meant the only illumination came from the living room, but how could she concentrate on something as mundane as furnishings?

  She must have continued to stand in the living room like some idiot when he’d announced it was time for sex. Otherwise, why had he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her from one masculine space to the other? Every step had caused their hips to touch. Strictly speaking, she hadn’t needed to place her arm around him in order to match his pace, but the desire for intimacy had ruled.

  Awareness of every inch of her body kept her from fully concentrating on his. She took note of the difference in their height and his potent physique, but between her aching breasts, inability to take a deep breath, and empty core, she felt overloaded with herself.

  Sensual overload. That pretty much said it.

  They hadn’t reached the bed when he stopped and turned her toward him. He captured her wrists and brought them up to his chest, then again wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close so his cock lay trapped and ready between them. His breath slid over her scalp. Sighing, she turned her head and leaned into him so she could press her mouth to the base of his throat. Waves of longing rolled over her spine and along her ass before settling in her pussy.

  Yes, pussy, she acknowledged, as she kissed his throat and ground herself against his erection. She’d never been entirely comfortable with the word in large part because she didn’t see herself first and foremost as a sexual creature. She was intellect and introspection, curious and shy, not some bitch in heat.