by R. C. Ryan
Her laughter was warm on his face. “But you are. Look at you.” She shimmied out of her jeans and the tiny lace thong before reaching a hand to his waist, helping him slide free of his clothes. Free and naked and splendid. “You have the most amazing, beautiful body.”
He brushed kisses over her upturned face. “I hope you’ll say that when the night is over. This body is all yours tonight, Goldilocks, to do with as you please.”
She shivered in anticipation as he laid her down on the bedroll and leaned close.
“But first…” He ran hot, wet kisses over her face, down her neck, around each breast, before taking one moist nipple into his mouth.
She made a purring sound in her throat and locked her arms around his neck as he moved from one breast to the other, while those wonderful, calloused hands began moving over her, adding another layer to her pleasure.
“Your skin is so soft.”
“And your hands are so clever.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Oh, I do.” She was desperate to touch him as he was touching her, but he gave her no time as he continued pleasuring her.
“This is your night, Goldilocks. Let me pamper you. Let me love you.”
And then he showed her, in every way, just how much he meant those words. With slow kisses, and long, leisurely touches that had her body humming with need.
Finally, unable to hold back, she rose up on one elbow, leaning over him, her hair tickling his chest as she began running wet kisses down his throat, across the flat planes of his stomach.
He lay back with a moan of pure pleasure, only to stop her moments later, though it cost him. “Hold on. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. This is getting way too intense.”
He sat up and gathered her close, pressing his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple.
Against her flesh he whispered, “I don’t want hot and fast. I plan on enjoying a feast tonight. A slow, lazy, all-you-can-eat banquet.” He lifted her face and kissed the corner of her lips. “Let’s just start with some appetizers.”
He ran slow, easy kisses over her upturned face, lingering over her raised brow, trailing ever so slowly to her ear, where he flicked his tongue before tugging lightly on her lobe.
She followed his lead, kissing the curve of his strong jaw before whispering kisses over his throat and across his shoulder.
He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Goldilocks, when you do that, you get me all tingly.”
“Good. I like tingly.” She moved lower, across his chest, while her fingers trailed his mat of dark, springy hair.
“So do I. But now you’ve got me tingling in other places,” he said with a growl as he dragged her on top of him. “I thought I could hold back, but there’s just something about you. I’m afraid there’s no stopping it now.”
He plunged his hands into the tangles of her hair, dragging her head down while he kissed her with a depth of hunger that rocked her to her very core.
His hands moved over her, building a fire that was threatening to consume them both.
Caught up in the frenzy of need, she wriggled over him, taking him in and closing around him like a velvet fist.
He groaned from the exquisite pleasure of it before going very still. His eyes, dark with pulsing need, were fixed on hers.
“I see we’re doomed, Goldilocks. Like I said, there’s no stopping this out-of-control train. We just have to ride it.”
And then they were moving together with a strength born of desperation. Climbing. Clinging. Clawing. Chests pounding, breathing shallow, hearts galloping, they raced toward the moon. And climaxed in a shower of glittering stars.
“Sorry.” Whit’s face was buried in the little hollow of Cara’s neck. She smelled of hay and sex and the faint hint of wildflowers he’d noticed on that first night when he’d slept on her pillow.
It would always remind him of Cara and the way she’d looked in those first few minutes, all terrified and putting up a brave front, with that broomstick at his back like a weapon. And then the revelation when he’d tugged aside the blanket.
“You’re sorry?” Her words were muffled against his temple.
“Not for this. This was good. Not just good. It was fantastic.” With an effort, he lifted his head to brush her mouth with his. “But I’d planned this night to be a long, slow seduction, to make up for that hot, sweaty display down by the creek. I guess I just can’t let myself get too close to you or I forget all my good intentions and just fall into the same hot, sweaty, fast sex all over again.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I’m not complaining.”
“No. You’re not. Have I told you that it’s one of the things I really like about you? You never complain, no matter what situation you find yourself in.”
She smiled up at him. “Thanks. But this wasn’t so much a situation as a celebration.” She paused. “What other things do you like about me?”
“You fishing for compliments, Goldilocks?”
Her smile turned sly. “Maybe I am.”
“You don’t need to worry. You’ve got it all.” He rolled to one side and gathered her close. “I like the way you smell. Like a field of wildflowers in springtime. And I like the way your hair falls all long and loose, especially when it’s falling over me.” He touched a finger to her lips. “I like looking at your face. You’re gorgeous, but not like those cover models, you know? More like you just stepped out of a shower and you’re all clean and natural and pretty. And I like the way you look when you’re cooking. Like you’ve got everything covered. No rush, no nerves, just very cool, as though you could find yourself in a giant stadium filled with starving strangers, and you’d just go on fixing food without a care in the world.”
She leaned up on one elbow to stare at him. “I had no idea you were thinking all those things about me.”
“It’s the truth.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face, allowing his hand to linger a moment. “And it’s a hell of a lot more than I’d intended to admit to.”
As if to cover his lapse, he sat up and turned toward the ice bucket. “How about a beer and some pizza?”
As he twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her, he added with a sexy grin, “We can always try for slow and easy after a good meal.”
“You know, considering that you weren’t planning on making pizza, this is really good. A lot better than the cardboard at Wylie’s.” Whit reached for another slice.
“Thanks. But you were right. I had all the ingredients. Why not use them for something portable?”
“Yeah. Lasagna just wouldn’t be the same up here in the hay loft.”
A clap of thunder had Cara looking up in fear. “That sounded close.”
“Close enough.” Whit pointed out the small, open window that gave them a glimpse of the land for acres. “I’m betting this storm is what kept Mad at Griff and Juliet’s ranch for the night.”
Cara leaned her head out and breathed in the wonderful, fresh scent of spring rain. “Oh, it’s beautiful and frightening, all at the same time. And it smells so clean.”
“Yeah.” Whit leaned back, one arm under his head. “Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved to lie up here and listen to the rain on the tin roof.” He looked over. “I hope you’re not afraid of storms?”
She shook her head and sat beside him, her arms encircling her folded legs, her chin on her knees. “It must have been a fun place to grow up.”
He nodded. “Despite Pop’s temper, I had a lot of freedom. I was riding by the time I could walk. And heading up to the hills with the wranglers as soon as Mom would allow. I guess I was six or seven the first time I begged to go along. Pop was having none of it, and Mom was worried until Brady promised to watch out for me.”
“He seems like such a gentleman.”
“Brady? Yeah. He’s a good guy.”
“He’s soft on your mom.”
Whit’s hand holding the beer paused in midair. “You don’t mean like romantic soft? You mean l
ike watching out for her. Right?”
“Are you blind? Every time he looks at her, he practically melts. If she sneezes, he’s beside her with a handkerchief. If she even thinks about making a cup of tea, he’s there with boiling water and a tea strainer.”
Whit sat up, running a hand through his hair. “That’s just because he’s one of those old-fashioned cowboys who only knows one way to treat a lady. And that’s with respect.” Reassured by his own words, he nodded. “Yeah. He’s just treating Mom the same way he’d treat any woman.”
“Except that Willow isn’t just any woman to him. Haven’t you seen the way he looks out for her? The way he watches her whenever he thinks nobody is looking?”
He set aside his half-finished beer. “You think he’s…got special feelings for my mother?”
“Does that bother you?”
Whit had to think about that. He frowned. “No. I mean, I could understand if he felt that way. She’s a beautiful woman. And she’s still young. And Brady has been in all our lives since before any of us were born. But still…it’s hard for me to picture anyone but Pop having that kind of relationship with my mom.” He looked over. “Do you think she feels the same way about Brady?”
“Your mom’s a very private person. She’s much harder to read. And from everything I’ve heard, she was crazy in love with your father. Still”—she rolled her eyes—“Brady Storm is one handsome cowboy.”
His strong fingers curled around her wrist. “You think he’s better looking than me?”
She looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes with a glint of teasing laughter. “My, my. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Whit MacKenzie is displaying a bit of jealousy.”
“My ass.” But he drew her closer. “Do you? Think he’s better-looking than me?”
“Not even close. Feeling better?”
“Much.” He lay back, easing her down beside him. “Okay. I told you about my childhood. Now it’s your turn. Tell me how you learned to draw like that.”
“Drawing is the easy part. For me, it’s as natural as breathing. And the stories I wrote were really all about me and my imaginary friend as we lived through those wonderful adventures.” She looked over at Whit. “While living with my gram, I used to wonder about my mom. I’d convince myself that one day she’d be back. I’d kneel by the window waiting for her to return. My stories took me away from the harsh reality that I was never going to live like other kids. Gram gave me an anchor, and she did her best for me, and I’ll always be grateful that I had her in my life. But those stories about Arac and Peg, the magic horse, became my escape.” She sighed. “The dream of seeing my work published became a lifeline for me. It’s only now that I’m beginning to realize the price I’ve paid for trying to attain that dream.”
“Hey, it can happen, if you’re willing to do the hard work.”
She looked over at him with a warm smile. “Those are words, Whit. The reality is this—I need to put my childish dreams aside and make a life for myself.”
Hearing the pain beneath her brave words, his heart melted. “We’ve spent enough time talking, woman. Now for that slow, lazy seduction I promised you.”
As the storm raged overhead, they came together in a storm of their own. And later fell asleep to the sound of the steady, soothing rhythm of rain beating a tattoo on the tin roof.
Chapter Twenty-One
Willow and Brady, astride their horses, were keeping an eye on the approaching storm.
They’d spent the day with the wranglers up on the east meadow and were heading toward the west, where a smaller herd was kept, when the sky turned dark as night.
“We need to find shelter.” Brady shouted above the wind. “That storm’s coming in fast and furious.”
“A range shack?” Willow stared around.
“Over that rise.” Brady pointed. “We can try. But I don’t like our odds.”
They were forced to keep a steady hand on the reins of their horses, who were spooking at the sudden claps of thunder, followed seconds later by jagged slices of lightning.
By the time they reached the deserted range shack, rain was falling in torrents and the wind was whipping trees around them in a frenzied dance. They were greeted by a loud flapping sound coming from a door hanging by one hinge and blowing open and shut. The roof had blown off and the shack had collapsed in on itself. The only thing standing was the rear wall and the lean-to behind it.
Leading their mounts inside the lean-to, they worked quickly to secure the door with a length of rope before Brady withdrew a battery-operated lantern from his saddlebags.
He glanced over at Willow, shaking rain from her wide-brimmed hat before tossing it aside. “It’s not much, but at least we’re dry in here.”
She gave him a smile as she unsaddled her mount and tossed the saddle and blanket to the ground. “And that’s more than we can say for the wranglers babysitting the herd.”
“They’re used to it.” He followed suit, unsaddling his gelding and spreading the saddle and blanket beside hers.
He filled the horses’ troughs with hay and oats and used a dipper in the rain barrel outside the door to fill a second trough with water.
He looked around at their tight quarters. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to make a fire in here.”
Willow sighed. “Coffee would have been nice, but we can live without it. I wish we hadn’t been so quick to go through that entire Thermos Cara sent. As for the chill…” She drew her cowhide jacket around her. “I’ll be warm enough with this.”
“Good.” Brady unrolled one of the packages from his saddlebag. “We have the last of the beef sandwiches Cara sent, and a cookie.”
Willow sat down on the blanket-covered earthen floor and leaned her back against her saddle before accepting half a sandwich from his hand. “All the comforts of home.”
Brady settled himself beside her, stretching out his long legs.
They ate in companionable silence, listening to the storm raging outside.
“From the sound of that wind, I’ll be surprised if any of this shack is still standing by morning.” Brady touched a hand to Willow’s. “If that last wall goes, this will go with it.”
“Just so it doesn’t take us and the horses, too,” she said with a laugh.
His eyes crinkled. “That’s what I love about you. Even in a crisis, when most women would be terrified, you find the humor in it.”
She shook her head. “Brady, in my years of living life on a ranch, I’ve come to expect the unexpected. This storm is just a little bump in the road.”
“Yeah.” He finished the last of his sandwich. “We can’t have coffee, but we can have some whiskey, if you’d like.”
She nodded. “Now that I’ve eaten, I think whiskey would be the perfect touch. Let’s save that cookie for our breakfast, if the storm doesn’t blow us away first.”
He reached into his saddlebag and removed a bottle. Uncapping it, he poured some in the cap that also served as a cup and handed it to Willow, who drained it before handing it back.
Brady poured a second capful. “Another?”
“No thanks.” She laughed. “That one’s still burning a path of fire down my throat. The rest is all yours.”
He drank, feeling the warmth snake through his veins. Content, relaxed, he drank a second shot before capping the bottle. “You have to be tired. We’ve put in a full day.”
“It’s funny.” She eased off her boots before crossing her ankles. “Ranch work, even really hard, physical ranch work, doesn’t tire me nearly as much as spending a few hours on paperwork. Now that really leaves me feeling extremely cross and cranky.”
“You?” He chuckled. “You don’t even know what cranky is.” He folded his hands beneath his head. “Do you remember the day Bear was bringing home your brand-new truck? He came up over a ridge and had to veer off the road to avoid a bull that escaped the fence?”
Willow nodded. “Bear ended up running into a tree and totaling that
truck before I even had a chance to drive it.”
Brady started laughing at the memory. “He was so mad. He called me to come and pick him up, and all the way home he never once seemed grateful that he’d walked away alive from such a terrible crash. Instead, he was steamed about the fact that you’d have his hide for ruining something you’d ordered and waited over a month for and never even got to drive before he smashed it to bits.”
She joined in his laughter. “When he walked in, swearing a blue streak, I took one look at his left eye turning shades of blue and purple and the blood dripping from a terrible gash in his head and asked him who he’d been in a fight with and how badly he’d hurt the other guy.”
Brady wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “And then he admitted that he’d been in an accident with your new truck. And all you said was, ‘Thank heaven you’re all right. It’s easier to order a new truck than a new husband. Now let’s take a look at that wound in your head.’ And I thought Bear, after getting himself all worked up over telling you, was going to keel over right there in the kitchen.”
“His bark was always worse than his bite.”
“Only with you, Willow. With mere mortals, he was hell on wheels.”
“Yes, I know.” She fell silent.
After a particularly loud clap of thunder, she shivered before turning to Brady. “Thank you for telling me about your wife and son the last time we were together. It helps to know…It helps me to know that it’s possible to survive and go on.”
He looked over. “There’s no road map for life. We just have to follow its twists and turns and figure things out as we go along.” He listened to the steady beat of the rain. “But I do believe there are no accidents in life, either. When I ran into Bear at Wylie’s that night we met, he was too drunk to make it on his own. I thought I was saving him that night, but he was actually saving me. You see, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. But one strong, steady thought was that I might be better off just ending things than trying to live with the pain of my loss.”