The Cowboy's City Girl - An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Emerson Rose

  “I only let you leave so easily this morning so that I could spoil you rotten when you returned.”

  “And I take it the medical attention that you requested involves this?” I say, pressing my ass against his cock.

  “Mmhmmm.”

  “They’re so beautiful. Why do you love purple so much?” I ask, in a shaky voice.

  I can hardly control my breathing. He has to know how turned on I am.

  “Historically, it’s related to royalty and love. It represents wealth, passion, and luxury. It fits, don’t you think?”

  “What I think is that we should get you off your feet.”

  “I was starting to think you were going to make me stand here forever.”

  I turn in his arms to face him.

  “Shall we go in your room or in here?” I ask.

  “In here.”

  “Door open or shut?”

  “Shut, and lock it.”

  He means business if we’re locking the door. I move on weak knees to close the door and lock us into my floral shop of a bedroom.

  I scan the room for a place to set my bag and end up tucking it in the closet.

  Marcus has moved to the edge of the bed where he crooks his finger inviting me to join him.

  “Come here, tell me about your day,” he says, reaching out to pull me closer.

  He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed and nudges my legs apart so that he can stand between them.

  I don’t think he really cares about my day right now.

  “Fine.”

  I feel a little faint. He’s always done that to me. It’s like his very presence is so overwhelming that my body has trouble adjusting to it.

  “Lie back.” I obey, not only because I want to but also because I’m seeing sparkles. “Imani?”

  “Yes, you know how I get. I’ll be OK in a second.” And just like that I am.

  I’m so much more than ok. How could I be so lucky to have this heavenly man standing over me, treasuring me, adoring me? Could it be karma balancing the universe?

  Am I being rewarded for not giving up after my attack? Or maybe it’s because I’ve dedicated my life to caring for others in their darkest moments?

  Finally, my body and mind have been freed of mistrust and the walls that used to protect me from pain and hurt have been destroyed beyond recognition.

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath as if to rein in his control. Marcus rests both hands on my knees, crutches still supporting him under his arms. The bed is so high off the floor that my body is aligned perfectly with his.

  “If I wasn’t being held back by this fucking cast, I would worry about hurting you right now. You are so damn beautiful. The day this thing is cut off you really need to be prepared,” he growls.

  I reach down and unbutton my jeans and, without losing eye contact, I work them off, raising my hips and bending my knees I wiggle them off while he hisses between clenched teeth, dropping his head back to look at the ceiling.

  “You’re killing me here.”

  Now it’s my turn to smirk while I pull my shirt over my head and remove my bra. I sit up and gather the hem of his shirt and raise it over his head while he balances on one foot, crutches propped at the edge of the bed.

  I hurry to unfasten his jeans and push them down so he won’t have to balance for long. Not that it matters, he has incredible muscle control. I think he could stand there all damn night. His muscles flex, keeping him steady, and a shiver runs through my body when I imagine what he will do to me when he’s at full capacity.

  Pivoting on his good leg, he shakes the jeans free of the shin-to-toe cast, and using only the strength of his powerful arms, he lifts himself onto the bed. In one swift move, he lies back, grabbing me around the waist and positioning me over his trim hips.

  His muscular V points like an arrow on a map directing me to his treasure, but I already know the way. My wet core skims his cock as he pulls me down to kiss my mouth, urgently at first but then when he’s gained control, he peppers my face with tender kisses.

  Cradling my cheeks in both hands, my ebony hair curtains around our faces plunging us into complete darkness until he draws back and we are nose-to-nose. Closing his eyes, he pulls in another deep cleansing breath.

  “What are you doing to me, Imani?” he murmurs.

  “Loving you,” I whisper, feathering his lips with the words.

  “Don’t ever stop.”

  He removes his hands from my face and seizes my hips, lifting me until he is poised at my entrance. I grasp his wrists for support, anticipating a fierce ride.

  He pulls my body down hard, deliciously impaling me, and he holds me firmly in place by my hips. I cry out and drop my head back while we pause for a fraction of a moment to savor the physical and spiritual connection.

  When he begins again, he pounds into me rhythmically as I meet him thrust for thrust, pushing him deeper into my aching sex every time. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the overwhelming scent of roses and sweat is intoxicating.

  I release my hands from his wrists and grab his thighs behind me, changing the angle of penetration, desperate to have him deeper inside of me, more a part of me.

  His hands move from my waist to my ass to tilt me forward where his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside my walls, over and over with every thrust.

  Electricity builds low in my belly and I know I’m almost there, but I want it to last so I lean forward over him until my breasts brush against the smattering of soft hair on his chest. My hands are on either side of his head pressed against the mattress when our eyes lock, and I’m flipped over onto my back.

  He supports himself with his good knee as he surges into me with a punishing force. Sliding our sweating bodies together, I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my feet into his ass, coaxing him closer until I hear the blessed words I’m dying to hear. “Imani, I want you to come with me.”

  “Yes.” I can hardly get that one word out before my body skyrockets into bliss.

  “Fuck, Imani!” he yells, and I gasp, holding that breath while an orgasm rips through our bodies simultaneously. Every shocking spasm causes me to gulp for another tiny bit of oxygen until I’m on the other side of climax where I can catch my breath.

  Panting and sweaty, I smile as I take in the satisfied face of this beautiful Adonis hovering over me. He places a tender kiss on my forehead and both cheeks, the tip of my nose, and finally my lips. Salty with sweat, we both smile through the kiss, and I thread my fingers through his damp hair.

  “So… medical emergency averted?”

  “More like mission accomplished, baby.”

  “Another perfect ten?”

  “Oh yes, you better believe it.”

  “I can’t believe you flipped me! Are you nuts?” Jutting my hips for him to move back to our initial position, he rolls us without disconnecting until I’m back on top.

  I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle his neck breathing in his scent, his essence. Time stops, and I feel it in every cell of my body.

  This is how it feels to love.

  I’m sinking like an anvil in the middle of the ocean, deeper and deeper with no way out. A little jolt of panic zaps through me and, with his clairvoyance, he feels it, too.

  “No worrying,” he says, gathering my damp, messy, tangled hair and looping it into a knot at my back with one hand. I’d love it if I could shut off my worrying like flipping a light switch, but it’s not that easy. This will be one thing I can’t control. But for him, I’ll try.

  “Ok,” I murmur into his hair, and I sit up astride him. Out of the corner of my eye something on the bed catches my eye. It’s a white teddy bear, propped against the pillows in the center of the bed.

  “What’s this?” I ask him, and he turns his head to look at the bear.

  “A friend for you,” he answers.

  “A friend, huh? I haven’t had a teddy bear since… since forever.”

  “
Well, then it is high time you do. She is important; don’t lose her whatever you do. Promise?” he asks.

  “I promise. And thank you, that’s sweet… a little weird, but sweet.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He smiles a devilish grin, and I know he’s up to something… but what?

  We shower together after we streak back to Marcus’s bedroom. I giggled at the thought of Maria or Mr. Black catching us running through the living room naked and postcoital.

  He’s like living art as he leisurely makes his way along on his crutches, every perfect muscle on his naked body flexing and extending. He leaves the doors to my room open, releasing the potent smell of roses into the rest of the house.

  Marcus’s shower in his en suite bathroom feels like I’ve stepped into a cathedral with arched ceilings, granite walls, and stained glass windows.

  The outside wall looks like it’s been carved out of a mountainside with its raw exposed stones, and the inside wall is a solid plate of glass with only one seam for a door.

  “How about we have pizza in bed and watch television tonight,” he says, drying off his chest and arms. I’m wrapped in a monogrammed bath towel of Marcus’s, drying my hair with another.

  “You read my mind, that sounds perfect. And Marcus?”

  “Hmmm?” he says, tossing his towel into a hamper across the room from where he sits.

  “Thank you for the flowers. I was a little distracted earlier and I didn’t get a chance to say that.”

  “It was my pleasure, and…, Imani?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for coming back.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  He leans his back against the glass wall of the shower with his hands palm down by his sides on the cushioned bench.

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  I go to him and kneel down at his feet.

  “You can always be sure with me. I’m not leaving until you send me away.”

  “You say that now.”

  “I do, and I’ll say it tomorrow and the next day and the next.”

  He reaches out and drags his thumb along the side of my face while he thinks. Then he sighs, and I can’t tell if it’s a sigh of acceptance or resignation.

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  I place my hands on his knees and reach out to touch a long thick scar that is low on his abdomen. I’ve wondered how he got it, but I never felt it was appropriate to ask. He removes my hand and kisses my fingertips. I guess it’s still not appropriate.

  “Help me up.”

  I stand and offer him my hand. Once he is on his foot, I pass him his crutches and we make our way back into his room.

  “Can we bring some of the flowers into your room?” I ask.

  “I mean, so that I can see them while I’m working, you know? I don’t mean to assume that you’ll want me in here all the time, I just thought…” I need to shut the hell up. I don’t know where that case of nerves just came from, but it’s embarrassing.

  His face darkens and he shoves his hand through his hair and holds it for a second before releasing it.

  “Lady, you are not getting this, are you?”

  “I didn’t mean to overstep boundaries. I’m sorry.”

  We are sitting on the bed facing each other in our towels. I feel like I should get up and go back to my room when he sighs and feathers his fingers along my jaw.

  “Baby, there are no boundaries when it comes to you. I want you right here next to me where I can feel how real you are. I want to feel your heart beating under my hand and your soft breath against my neck. When you’re gone, I start thinking that I’ve imagined you. No more talk of boundaries or leaving. I’ll have all of the flowers brought in here. I only gave you your own room so you would have some privacy if you needed it, not because I don’t want you here with me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m more than sure. I was miserable without you here today, but seeing the shock on your face when you opened that door was worth it. You never told me how your day was.”

  I get a little thrill knowing that he was miserable. Not that I want him to be miserable, of course, but how could I have been so off base this morning?

  “Like I said I was distracted. My day was pretty close to perfect. I checked on things at home, visited my sister and my niece and nephew, and then guess what?” I ask, full of excitement.

  “What?” He relaxes against the pillows behind him and laces his fingers behind his head.

  “Then I went to work, and I was surprised with a million roses and the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  “That sounds like one hell of a job you have there, lady.”

  “Yep, the best.”

  Twenty-Four

  I love lingerie, matching panties and bras, corsets, and garter belts. I’ve never had a reason to wear anything like that other than for my own gratification. I never wear it to sleep; booty shorts and tank tops are my MO in bed. But I do love to wear pretty things under my clothes.

  When packing for this week, I purposely brought ultra-casual things to keep the temptation level down. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed. This is supposed to be a job, damn it, I shouldn’t be sleeping in the same room with my boss wearing anything less than scrubs. How did all of this happen?

  Back in the flower shop, I dress in shorts and a tank top. I toss my overnight bag over my shoulder and grab a particularly beautiful vase of roses and the box with the light fixture I made for Marcus.

  After his comment today, I feel like I should just move my things into his room permanently. I never sleep in here anyway, but it is nice to have a closet of my own and a bathroom where I can spread out my makeup and hair products without cramping Marcus’s style.

  The latest gift in his parade of generosity catches my eye as I leave the room. I set my bag on the bed for a moment to pick it up. It’s the softest teddy bear I’ve ever felt, and its eyes look like diamonds.

  That’s silly, diamonds that size would be ridiculously expensive. I smooth out its fur and notice it also wears a diamond choker that is six rows wide. Aw, it’s a she. She has intricate stitching and ultra-soft fur, what an expensive toy.

  Who gives a woman a teddy bear at my age? And why did he say she’s important? Maybe he means it’s important because it’s from him?

  I set her down carefully between the two pillow shams and grab my bag off the bed again. I’m finally giving Marcus the light I made for him. It’s not nearly as extravagant as several hundred roses, but I made it with my own hands.

  I’ve seen Marcus lying in a bed for weeks, but he still takes my breath away. When I get to the door to his room, I find him propped on a half dozen pillows pointing a remote at the TV.

  He’s wearing a pair of thin sleeping pants that sit low on his sexy hips, his hair is slicked back still wet from our shower, and his beautifully defined chest is bare. I pause to admire the ultimate masculinity that is Marcus Castillo. He pauses his channel surfing to watch something until he feels my stare.

  “Enjoying the view, Miss Jefferson?”

  “As a matter of fact I am, Mr. Castillo, very much so. I see you have pajama pants, though. I thought you always slept naked,” I say, pushing myself off of the doorjamb with my shoulder where I’ve been leaning.

  “You thought I should wear something to bed; they are only here for you.” A coy smile on his lips as he follows me with his eyes across the room.

  “Well, that was before we started, you know…”

  “Oh, so now you want me naked, do you?”

  “Hey, is this new?” I stop short and point at a night table on my side of the bed. I’m sure he only had one table on his side before.

  “Yes, I had a matching one delivered for you. You can put your things on it at night so they’re easier to reach.”

  The simple yet thoughtful gesture tugs at my heart. The implication that I will be spending many nights in his room with him doesn’t go unnoticed either.

  I’m only s
upposed to be here for two weeks, but I think he’s planning on keeping me here forever. I secretly love the idea, but I can’t let myself think about a long-term relationship.

  Being with Marcus scares me as much as it thrills me. To be desired and possessed by a man that could also easily destroy me without even knowing it is a hard pill to swallow.

  I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things have been OK lately. He’s been acting normal or as normal as I know him to be.

  I’ll just accept his kind gesture for what it is, a convenient nicety that will make my time here more comfortable. I arrange my things on my new table and crawl to the center of his big bed with my bag and my box.

  He mutes the television and drops the remote on the mattress.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Something I made for you, a while ago actually, while you were still in a coma.”

  “You made it for me??

  “I’m a glass blower, it’s a hobby I discovered a few years ago.”

  A glint of interest crosses his face.

  “May I see it?” He nods toward the box, and I carefully unpack the bubble wrap and remove the light fixture.

  His eyes widen and he reaches out to touch it. But Marcus doesn’t simply touch, he examines it with his hands, running his fingers along the various points and swirls as he does with everything.

  I’ve noticed this unusual trait and I’ve decided that he must have picked it up spending so much time with his blind aunt.

  “You made this? For me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s a light, yes?”

  I smile, “Yes, I thought you might have a use for it somewhere. Do you like it?” He looks at me with “duh” written all over his face.

  “Oh yes, I have just the place in mind. It’s beautiful, Imani, I love it. Thank you.”

  “Ah, manners, I knew you had some in there somewhere.”

  “I have manners,” he says defensively.

  “I think they must be coming back slowly then, that’s the first time you’ve said thank you without a prompt from me since you came out of your coma.”

  “I wondered where your smart mouth had gone. I use my manners when I deem them necessary. Too much ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ can lead to lack of respect and the appearance of weakness.”