Dillon had just proved that assumption wrong for the second time.
Leaning her head against him once she finally caught her breath, she whispered, “Wow. That was...” Gloria was going to say “amazing” but amazing didn’t quite describe how his lips and tongue and teeth had made her feel. Phenomenal? Out of control? While he held her head tenderly against his abdomen, stroking her hair back, she tilted her head up and back. “What do you call that?”
“Necking.”
“My God,” she whispered. “I like your version of necking.”
“I’m glad because you have the most beautiful neck.”
She rose in front of him, her blanket left behind on the chair. She had tunnel vision but it wasn’t panic cutting off her peripheral vision, it was desire that had her focus on one part of Dillon at a time. His narrow waist where his boxers rode low, for example. Touching him there, she watched her fingers caress his skin as if they belonged to someone else, moving back and forth along the waistband. He had the nicest abs, so hard, his skin so soft. And the line of hair that separated left from right was so deliciously masculine. She drew her finger up and down, up and down, fascinated by the way his muscles constricted on each ragged inhalation.
With the backs of her knuckles, she skimmed up the muscles of his stomach to his chest, turning her palms flat against him and leaning in to press a kiss right between his well-defined pecs. She rubbed her cheek there, needing to touch him with all her parts, needing to feel as if she wasn’t removed from this, wasn’t just watching, but was fully taking part. With the side of her face pressed against him, she inhaled deeply, breathing in his still-damp skin as she plastered herself up against him. Skin to skin somehow wasn’t close enough. She wanted more. Needed more.
“Your bra’s wet.”
“We should take it off, then.” She reached around behind her and undid the clasp.
Dillon kissed the straps off her shoulders, moving lower as the bra slipped, revealing her nipples before tumbling to the floor.
“You are so beautiful,” he spoke from the deepest part of his chest, a rumbling erotic sound that was as good as a caress.
When he bent to take a nipple in his mouth, Gloria let her head fall back, arching in encouragement. There was something so freeing about giving herself to this man, finally doing what she wanted, being the person she wanted to be.
Uninhibited.
Sensual.
Alive.
The suction increased and residual embers from the whiskey reignited flames in her belly, spreading up into her chest and down through to her toes, causing her knees to weaken, forcing her to dig her fingertips into Dillon’s gloriously broad shoulders in order to keep herself upright.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked, her practical side surfacing.
“In my wallet. In my jeans.”
“Get it.”
As much as she didn’t want Dillon to move out of her embrace, she knew what she wanted and she didn’t want to have to stop later in order to make it happen. She’d never been so bold with a man, asking for what she wanted, telling him to go get a condom.
Just do me.
Who was she?
Gloria never had trouble telling people what she wanted in business and in life in general. But in the bedroom? She’d always been reserved, fearful of showing too much. Afraid of asking for what she wanted. What she needed.
“Come here, you.” After finding what he needed in his wallet, Dillon took the blanket from the chair and spread it on the floor on top of the other one. When she was close enough, he held her hand and pulled her down to her knees. Caressing the side of her face he said, “You sure about this?”
“Dillon. You’ve already asked me.”
His expression became serious. “I know but...”
Oh, God. He was afraid she was going to freak out again. That was why he was being so careful. That was why he kept stopping just when he got her going. She squeezed his hands. “I want to make love to you, okay?”
He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if he needed confirmation from more than just her brain and voice but from her soul. A deep-seated shiver ran from the base of her spine up to the top of her head, not a chill, but a pleasant, liberating sensation.
“Please.”
That one word was like the chink in his dam of self-control. His heavy lids fluttered closed and he groaned as he yanked her flush against him so that he might close his mouth over hers. The passion and attention he’d paid to her throat was now focused on her lips, the inside of her mouth, her tongue, sucking, nipping, biting. It was the kind of kiss Gloria had always hoped for. Better even than last time.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. She wanted to feel his weight on her because his size made her feel so small and feminine. She needed to feel him skin to skin, needed to be as close to him as physically possible. The desire to be as close as two individuals could be was all consuming; a need almost as dire as breathing.
She must have Dillon inside her, penetrating her, just like his tongue was doing right now, pushing past her swollen lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, positioning his erection in order to tell him what she wanted. When he went to roll to the side, she held on with a ferocity she didn’t know she possessed.
“I must be crushing you,” he whispered hoarsely.
“No. You feel good.”
“Mmm, darlin’. You feel incredible.”
“Take off my panties.”
Hoisting himself to his knees, he slipped his fingers beneath the band of her panties and she lifted her hips to help. Once they were off, she wantonly let her legs fall open.
He sat back on his heels, taking in her exposed flesh. “Beautiful.”
And that was how he made her feel. Beautiful.
“Take off your shorts.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Darlin’...”
“Please.”
Apparently please really was a magic word, one Dillon was unable to say no to. With a groan, he rose to his feet and pushed the band of his shorts down his hips and over his massive thighs.
“Don’t move,” she said, rising up in front of him.
“Damn, you’re bossy,” he replied with a wicked grin. Not to mention a splendid erection. The man was incredible. While she’d been naked with him before, it had been dark in the hotel room and she hadn’t had a chance to really look. Standing there in front of her? Dillon Cross was...beautiful.
“You had your fill yet?”
“Come here.”
His eyes lit with a wonderful combo of amusement and desire as he took a step forward.
“Give me the condom.”
He handed her the plastic square. “Damn, woman, I like you bossy.”
“Mmm. Glad to hear it,” she said, ripping the plastic and removing the slick disk from inside. Kneeling before him—God, he was so big and beautiful—she took a hold of his shaft and slowly rolled the condom over him.
Dillon made a sound that was half hiss, half growl and he dropped to his knees, pushed her onto her back and spread her legs in order to fit himself between them. Carefully, he eased his weight on top of her as he took her hands, threaded his fingers through hers and raised them above her head.
“You drive me crazy,” he whispered, rubbing his jaw against her cheek as his hips made slow circles between her thighs.
Lovely, wonderful friction.
But Gloria needed more than friction, so much more. She turned her face and lifted her chin, positioning her mouth flush against his. With a groan, he seared her lips and simultaneously ground his erection against her mound.
“Please, Dillon,” she whispered into his open mouth.
He slid his hand down the length of her arm, down her side to her h
ip before fitting his hand between them. “I need to touch you first.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
His fingers found the top of her, prying her open. He slid one, and then two fingers, inside.
Gloria’s body reacted with the joy of penetration, going rigid as if electrocuted with a thousand volts of pleasure.
“I love how you feel,” he whispered gruffly. “So soft. So wet.”
Gloria ground herself into his hand. “More,” she said.
“Mmm, baby.” Dillon twisted his fingers and pulsed them against the walls of her sex, twisting, withdrawing, plunging.
“More, Dillon. Please.”
He guided his cock to her soaked opening and then propped himself up on one arm. She gazed through the haze that surrounded her, into Dillon’s face, his expression both serious and tender. But when he finally thrust, finally giving her what she wanted, the sensation of his body joining with hers, stretching her and filling her was more than she could take. There was no way she could keep her eyes open.
She cried out as he withdrew, and moaned as he thrust again.
“Dillon!” His name had suddenly become synonymous with ecstasy and Gloria used it that way, chanting it like a mantra. “Dillon.” She sighed. “Dillon. Oh, Dillon...” And then she exploded, losing control in a way she never had with any other man.
“Sweetheart...”
With emotion clogging her throat, she begged, “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”
Bless the man, he didn’t stop. Rather, he increased the pace, settling more of his wonderful weight on her. His chin rested on the top of her head, bringing his corded neck within sucking and biting distance.
“Oh, baby.”
She loved the emotion that spoke of his loss of control, making his normally deep, melodic voice harsh and needy.
“Gloria. Oh, baby. I need to.”
“Yes.” Her fingers bit into him as surely as her teeth had, and Gloria thrust up to meet him just as he drove himself as deep into her as possible, making the very depths of her sing. Two, three, four more short bursts and Dillon howled, holding on to her hip as he quaked inside of her.
Slowly, slowly, Gloria came back to herself as if a part of her had disengaged from her body and floated up to the ceiling, dancing on the roof to the sound of the now-gentle rain.
“You okay?” Dillon rolled them to their sides and stroked her cheek, gazing with concern into her eyes.
“I’m better than okay.” She smiled, but Dillon’s expression of concern didn’t let up. “Dillon, I’m not going to freak.”
“You sure?”
God. They’d just had spectacular cabin sex and he was still worried that she was going to go nutty on him.
“I promise.” She kissed him, softly at first, but it quickly grew in passion.
“You trying to kill me?” Dillon asked, groaning as he pulled out, leaving a cool emptiness in his wake.
“Oh.” Gloria clutched at his hips to no avail. “Don’t go.”
“One condom. That’s all I’ve got.” He smoothed her messy hair out of her face. “And believe me, with that kiss and a little movement in your hips, I’m ready to go all over again.”
10
THE WET GROUND was steaming in the morning sun. Dillon had let the horses out of the shed to graze, and now stood by the rain barrel, dipping a pail for fresh water. With pail in hand, he paused outside the door, feeling...what? Cautious?
Yeah. That was what it was. The same kind of feeling he’d always felt when approaching a mare and her new foal for the first time, careful so as not to startle mother or baby. Wanting them to trust him and be comfortable with him.
When he’d gotten up, Gloria had still been sleeping on the floor by the hearth, looking like an angel with a halo of tangled red hair, but when he opened the door, she was up and dressed, her back to him as she went through the cupboards. Who was going to greet him today? The passionate woman from last night? The bossy designer who was cool and efficient? Or, the cold woman who kept her emotions hidden behind a facade of disdain?
But the woman who turned to him was someone he’d never met before. Her face was pale, her eyes were bright, and her smile was...shy. Dammit, if that smile didn’t just tug at something low in his belly. Something protective.
“You sleep okay?” Dillon asked, pouring fresh water into the washbasin.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Good.”
She glanced up and smiled that smile again.
He moved up to her and slipped his hand lightly around her delicate neck. “We okay?”
She nodded, her eyes going liquid as if she might cry, for shit’s sake.
Normally that sort of emotion would scare Dillon off in a big way. But with Red, it made him feel as though his innards were composed of oatmeal. Mush and brown sugar. He bent low, his back not happy with the movement, and kissed her softly. Licking her lips because she tasted like honey.
“I’m glad.”
The ride back to the ranch was done slowly and in silence. Now that it was daylight, Dillon was able to get a better idea of the damage caused by the storm. Part of the hill had caved and lots of trees were down, but at least the house and outbuildings hadn’t been affected.
A man on a horse approached and as he neared he could make out the ranch hand, Thad.
“Morning,” Thad called. “You two hole up at the Doghouse last night?”
“Uh-huh,” Dillon said.
“That was smart.” Thad’s gaze swept from one to the other.
Dillon caught sight of a pretty pink hue sneaking up the back of Red’s neck. He tried his best to contain his grin.
Turning his attention to Dillon, Thad asked, “How many did you lose last night?”
“One.”
He nodded. “There was a whole group of them that got caught up against the pilings of the washed-out bridge. Four or five maybe. It was hard to tell in that dark.”
“That’s a shame.”
“You said it. Hate to lose a head let alone five.” Thad scratched his cheek and then pointed to the house. “Power’s still out, but the generator’s running. Left some breakfast in the kitchen for the two of you. I’ll wager you’re starving something fierce.”
“I could eat,” Dillon said, catching Gloria’s eyes. In the morning light, her eyes were like two gems peeping out of her flushed face. Suddenly Dillon had visions of consuming something other than food. Parts of Red’s body came to mind. Parts that he’d barely had a chance to explore last night.
Gloria’s already pink cheeks deepened in color and she tore her gaze from his. “That’s very kind of you, Thaddeus. I appreciate it.”
“We’ll need your help today, Dill.” Thad turned his attention to Gloria, as if asking for permission. As if she was the lady of the house.
Dillon moved up beside Gloria and said to her, “Sorry, but the work on the house is going to have to wait.”
“You do what you have to do. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.” She smiled, a version of that shy smile all over again.
Maneuvering his horse closer to Gloria, Dillon brushed her thigh, gently. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving and a hot shower wouldn’t hurt, either.” He winked and then prodded the horse in the direction of the barn. As the horse’s walk turned into a trot, he overheard Gloria clearing her throat and Thad asking her how her sleep in the Doghouse was.
Dillon broke into a smile when he heard her say, “It was wonderful.”
* * *
AFTER A BREAKFAST of sausage, eggs, hash browns and ham—not a fruit or vegetable to be found—Gloria went to work on the second floor of the ranch house. She felt like the Tasmanian Devil, whirling through the rooms like a human tornado, clearing them of all personal effects. It d
idn’t take long—purging other people’s belongings was easy when you had no sentimental value attached to them. Before Dillon had taken off to help Thad and Curtis with ranch work, he’d found loads of boxes and crates that she could use to pack things up. There were always three piles: garbage, donation, keep. The first and second were always the biggest, it was amazing what junk people held on to.
“What’s this?” she muttered aloud. One whole side of the closet in the master bedroom was piled with boxes marked “clothes.” Opening the top box, she was surprised to find women’s clothing—jeans, blouses, dresses—much of it practically brand-new. She pulled a dress from the box and, standing in front of the mirror, held the dress up against herself. It was lemon yellow with ruffles on the bodice and spaghetti straps. She stripped and pulled the sundress over her head and stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, checking out her reflection. It fit perfectly after she’d adjusted the straps to her frame. She swiveled her hips and the full skirt swirled out around her legs.
“I love it.”
She didn’t know why she left it on other than it made her feel pretty, which the yoga clothes definitely didn’t do. With a hand to her cheek, she stared at her reflection. She looked...different. It could be that she’d showered and applied a bit of makeup from her purse, but Gloria didn’t think that was it because she felt different, too. Not panicky, not unsettled, not rushed.
Content.
A panic attack would have been farthest from her mind if not for the careful way Dillon had treated her this morning, as though she was fragile china that needed to be protected by bubble wrap. Even that was strangely nice, being treated with care and concern. When was the last time anyone had treated her that way?
She regarded her reflection, wondering what Dillon would think if he saw her in the dress. Okay, she admitted it. She wanted Dillon to see her in it. How would he react? Would he pull her close? Reach up under the skirt and caress her leg? Would he find her wet and willing—yes!—and proceed to explore her most intimate parts?
Damn, calloused fingers felt good on a woman.
In a woman.
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