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Must Love Horses

Page 16

by Vicki Tharp


  “So he was the last?”

  “Sadly, no.” She had to laugh or else she’d cry and that wasn’t happening. “About six months ago, I was feeling sorry for myself. So I kinda went through a slut phase.”

  Bryan barked out a laugh. It was deep and rich and incredulous. “Sure you did.”

  “Seriously, I went to a cowboy bar two nights in a row and picked up a guy and brought him home.”

  “And?”

  She wasn’t sure what he was asking. “And we had sex?”

  “Irish, I don’t think sleeping with two guys can be considered a slut phase. Were you careful?”

  “I always used protection and I had myself tested. Twice, to be sure.”

  “I meant about your personal safety. Taking random guys home—”

  “At the time, I didn’t care. They were decent guys, not looking for anything more than what I had to offer. After the second time, I realized how lucky I was. I know they as easily could have not been so nice.”

  “You have to be careful.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. The irony of his statement while he tried to make a move wasn’t lost on her. But she knew him well enough to know he was a good man. Well enough to know if she said stop, he would.

  Well enough to know he’d never hurt her on purpose.

  He broke the kiss and eased her back, the saddle pad more comfortable than she’d expected. Tracing a finger down the line of her jaw, his hand shook. Anticipation, or something else? She pushed the negative thoughts from her mind. Negativity had no place between them tonight. Tonight, it was just the two of them.

  Like Bryan had said. No pasts, no prejudices.

  He rolled on top of her and settled between her legs, resting his weight on his forearms. “You good?”

  She was alone in a cave in the mountains with a man she has grown to like with a capital L, with a soft heart and a hard body pressed against hers with the promise of a happy ending. At least for the night. “Perfect.”

  She threaded her hands behind his head and guided his lips to the top of her breasts. He nipped and sucked at her tender flesh. Arching her back, he reached behind and flicked the clasp on her bra, pulled it free, and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. Where it landed, she didn’t see, but the fire didn’t kick up so it hadn’t landed there. Pity.

  Inching lower, he laved first one nipple and then the other. The contrast between his hot mouth and the cold air made her nipples contract into tight peaks. Heat and pressure settled between her legs and she ground against him, urging him to hurry.

  But, like a man planning an important mission, he wouldn’t be rushed. He cupped her breasts, squeezing gently as he kissed his way down her abdomen.

  His beard tickled as his tongue circled her belly button, once, twice, before continuing south. When he got to her panties, she didn’t concern herself with their “serviceability,” as he’d so kindly put it. As it turns out, they came off as fast and as easy as the Victoria’s Secret varieties.

  Then he flicked his tongue over her clit and her hips bucked up against him. “Holy fu—” she groaned, but couldn’t get the words out. She clamped her hands to the back of his head, but he didn’t need the encouragement. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, she splayed her legs wider, granting him better access.

  He sucked and flicked his tongue and she rose higher to meet him. He muttered something that sounded a whole lot like a reverent “fuck me,” but over the rush of blood past her ears and her heavy breathing, the words very well could have come from her.

  He brought her to the ragged edge. “Now, Bryan,” she managed.

  The vibration from his chuckle sent her even higher. Then his tongue vanished, giving her a moment’s reprieve before he teased it farther into her folds. He tucked his hands under her ass and lifted her up, then dove in with his hard, warm tongue. In and out. Slow and then hard. She gripped his shoulders, his head, his hair. She was close. So close.

  “Tell me you brought protection.”

  He stopped what he was doing, which was both good and bad. No, it was good, because when she came she wanted to take him with her.

  Slowly, he kissed his way back up her body. Gaining ground, inch by precious inch. The muscles in her abdomen fluttered as he skittered his tongue across them.

  “I have my Glock,” he said, before taking a breast into his mouth. Then he released it with a soft pop. “I have my rifle.” He scooted up until he could nibble on her earlobe. “I have my boot knife.” Then he whispered in her ear. “What more could we want?”

  His arousal was tight against her and she clamped her legs around him.

  “Sweet, Jes—” His voice caught and he hung his head, resting his forehead on her shoulder, his breaths coming out in loud, raspy pants. “Okay, okay. Uncle.”

  Raising back up, he found her lips with his. She could taste herself on him as he swept his tongue into her mouth. Then he broke the kiss, reached over, and held up the foil packet for her to see. “Happy?”

  She wasn’t an electrician, but she was pretty sure something had short-circuited, because every time she looked at his lips her stomach clenched, flashing back to the mayhem he’d wrecked on her body.

  “Ecstatic.” Snatching the packet, she pushed him to his back and straddled him. “My turn.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “I don’t trust that look in your eye. What are you gonna do?”

  “Uh-uh-uh,” she said, easily breaking the restraint. “No spoilers.”

  “There’s gonna be one big spoiler if you’re not careful.”

  What was that saying? Turnabout’s fair play? Better yet: all’s fair in love and war—even more appropriate.

  She tossed a coy smile and then nipped him on the end of his chin. His whiskers poked, scratched, and tickled her lips. He smelled of smoke and horses and sweat and her.

  * * * *

  Boomer’s breath came rapid and short as Sidney scooted back and sat on the tops of his thighs, the saddle pad itchy against his back. The firelight shimmered off her breasts as she raked her fingernails over his chest and down his sides—six parts heaven and four parts hell—hard enough to leave a mark.

  The marks on his skin would fade shortly, but what she was doing to his heart, to his head? His stomach tumbled. He had a feeling she would leave him scarred for life.

  His right hand shook and he clenched the blanket in his fist and focused on the fiery fairy on his lap. Tearing the packet with her teeth, she spit out the tiny corner. Then that mischievous grin returned and suddenly she looked like the naughty black sheep of Tinkerbell’s family.

  His cock jumped and she caught it with her hand. He hissed in a breath. Grabbing her wrist again, he said, “Don’t move.” His words came out gravely.

  She raised a brow and her grin went wider. With one hand free, she bit down on another corner of the packet and pulled out the condom. His hand was clamped tight on her wrist, but that didn’t stop her from stroking upward and swiping her thumb across the bead of pre-cum. His balls tightened and the base of his spine tingled in anticipation.

  He could have stopped her if he really wanted to.

  Lifting his head, he watched as she slowly rolled the condom down. She sucked and licked at the base of him. Watching her tongue, her lips devour him, was more than he could take.

  He threw an arm over his eyes, but that heightened the sensations with his vision gone. So he did the only thing he knew to do to distract himself: “R-remove the magazine and rack the slide and e-eject the round. Lock the slide back and v-visually and manually—”

  She stopped her ministrations with a laugh. “What are you doing?”

  He breathed deep and glanced down at her, but looking down at her with her ass in the air and her breasts hanging above him, made his scrotum tighten. He dropped his head back; it landed with a dull thud against the saddle pad
and the hard ground. A short burst of pain radiated around his skull, but even that wasn’t enough of a distraction. “I’m reciting the steps for cleaning my Glock.”

  “Am I boring you?”

  There was no need to answer; she was driving him mad, and the crooked smile on her face said she damn well knew it.

  He ensnared her wrists and pulled her up his torso until she was lying on his chest—her weight hardly registering. When he had her where he wanted her, he spanned her hips in his hands and raised her up until he was poised at her entrance.

  She was hot and slick and ready for him.

  Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her tightly against him, loving the way her soft breasts flattened against him. Then his hands started a languorous journey down the length of her sides, over her ribs, and—

  With a little downward pressure, Sidney took him in in one long, steady slide. She moaned, and he grabbed her ass and held her tight against him, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper inside. His pulse throbbed at his temple, his neck, his cock. He captured her mouth with his. Then her eyes closed and she sat up, arching and throwing her head back with abandon. Her hands at his waist, she started a rocking rhythm that stroked him slow and steady.

  Her breathing quickened, as did the rocking of her hips. Sitting up, he cradled her ass in the fold of his lap as she locked her legs behind his back. He ran his hands up over her rib cage, tracing the sweet under curve of her breasts with his thumbs, then squeezed the tight mounds. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into her and he teased a taut nipple with his teeth.

  She laughed a moan. “That feels so g—”

  He blew cold air on her wet nipple and her body shook. Inside, she clamped down harder. She was so damn close. He wanted her to come, wanted to feel her body milk his, wanted to feel her fly, to feel her fervor, but if she was going, he was damn well going with her.

  He laid her down, careful to place her on the saddle pad for added cushion. The stone was hard on him, but he didn’t give it another thought. All he could think about was him and her and where their bodies intersected, where they were one.

  With his weight on his arms, he cradled the back of her head and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her pulse hammered under his lips, her skin salty and somehow sweet. Slowly, he built the tempo—a fast walk, to a trot, to a canter—until they were galloping, their lungs gulping air, their hearts thumping, accelerating.

  Then Sidney jumped and he leaped after her.

  They fell together, a jumble of arms and legs and hearts and minds. He watched her land. The smile on her lips, the exhausted flutter of her eyelids. After her breathing slowed, he thought she’d fallen asleep. Then she opened her eyes, those impossibly green, impossibly intelligent, impossibly his, eyes. She’d given him everything. It humbled him. He wasn’t worthy. He almost looked away.

  He didn’t.

  He didn’t want her thinking he regretted it.

  In the spark of the fire, he saw the reflection of himself mirrored in her eyes, and for the first time he saw himself for who he was. A man with a heart and a soul and numerous flaws and the ability to see himself through her eyes. See that the flaws didn’t make him less than—the flaws made him more. At least, they somehow did to her.

  “Holy…” Sidney started.

  “Fuck,” he finished for her.

  “Exactly.” She giggled, and it was a soft, sweet sound that make his chest tight.

  He kissed her on the tip of the nose and rolled off her to take care of the condom. When he rolled back, she was on her side with her head propped up in her hand.

  “Not bad,” she said, like a coach to a kid who wasn’t living up to his potential. Except she had a satisfied grin on her face that gave her away.

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  “Maybe I need to break out the whips and spurs next time.” She hid her face in the crook of her arm and groaned. “That was so cheesy. I can’t believe I said that.”

  That she implied there would be a next time made his pulse kick and his dick come back to life. He scooted closer. “No to the spurs, but the whips…” He tossed his head from side to side like he was considering the addition.

  She popped him on the arm. “I was kidding.”

  “Damn shame.”

  As he lay back against the saddle, she snuggled up against him, her hand tracing circles on his chest, one leg thrown over his, the blankets tangled beneath them, but even in the cool night air, they were still damp with sweat and the breeze was welcomed.

  The rain had slowed to a drip and the fire had died down, though the coals still glowed hot. The animals had settled in for the night, their heads low, their rear legs cocked. With the rain, the insects were quiet, and somewhere near the mouth of the cave, a small animal skittered and scratched at the ground.

  “What’s it like?” Her words came out soft and tentative, as if she were afraid that if she voiced it too loud, the question would be too real.

  “What’s what like?”

  “Having a prosthetic.”

  “Better than the alternative.” He didn’t have to think about the answer, because the truth was, there were so many veterans worse off than him. Double, triple, quadruple amputees. And they’d been the ones lucky enough to survive.

  “Why do you always deflect questions?”

  “I don’t al—”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  He did? He shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

  “I guess practice makes perfect in that case too.” There was no accusation in her words, more like an observation, but they still pricked his thick skin and set deep, like one of those treble hooks his dad had always used to fish for catfish in the stock pond.

  She ran her hand over his abdomen, tracing the valley down his midline, not like she was trying to turn him on, but like she liked the feel of his skin under her fingertips. He caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers.

  Just because she wasn’t trying to turn him on didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.

  “Will you do something for me?” she asked.

  “Name it.” He didn’t hesitate. Or need any pre-qualifications. If she wanted something and it was in his power to give it to her, he would. And it wasn’t just the sex talking.

  “Answer three questions. No deflection. No answering a question with a question. Just the truth.”

  Beneath their joined hands, his guts liquefied and his dinner threatened to come back up. He kissed her on the forehead, closed his eyes, and hoped like hell it was something he could answer. “I’ll try,” was all he could promise.

  “Why is your hand shaking?”

  He didn’t have to look at their joined hands to know his was shaking. In fact, it had gotten worse instead of better, but he’d chalk it up to the adrenaline. “I don’t know.”

  “Why do you think your hand is shaking?”

  “You just asked me that.”

  “No, I asked you why your hand was shaking. You said you didn’t know. I believe that. Knowing and thinking are not the same thing.”

  His chest hurt, as if Donkey and come over and thumped two hooves square in his ribs. He didn’t want to put voice to his thoughts, because then they became all too real. But he had agreed, so…

  He tried to take a deep breath, but the ache in his chest cut it short. “I haven’t had a drink since last night. I once watched a buddy go through alcohol withdrawal…”

  He let his voice trail off. He was about to say, “It wasn’t pretty,” but he didn’t want to sugarcoat the truth. “And when the delirium tremens, the DTs, hit, it only got uglier and scarier.”

  Funny how witnessing his buddy’s withdrawal hadn’t stopped Boomer from picking up the bottle.

  And no one expected an IED to explode under them either. You’re invincible, you’re immune. It’s the
unlucky bastard next to you that might get it, not you. You’re different.

  Only Boomer wasn’t different.

  His stomach vaulted in his abdomen and bile climbed up the back of his throat with sticky claws.

  Boomer sat up and swallowed hard, running his hands down his face, his chest, and across his shoulders. His skin felt like he’d wrestled his way into a fiberglass suit.

  Was that it? Was that why his hands shook? He was going through withdrawal?

  She laid a hand on his forearm. “I think we should head back in the morning. My dad tried quitting cold turkey years ago. He ended up in the hospital.”

  It was a shaky hand. Nothing more. “I’m fine.”

  She laughed, but humor took a back seat and let anger drive. “We’re heading back in the morning. If I have to hog-tie you to the saddle, I will.”

  “But—”

  “So help me, if the next word out of your mouth isn’t ‘yes’ or ‘okay’ or ‘no problem’…” She left the threat dangling in the air between them.

  Her eyes were narrowed, her face hard, her hair going in every direction but down, her breath deep, like she was ready to leap into action at any second. God, she was beautiful when she was riled. That she was fired up because of him, because she cared more about him than finding Eli, or working on the mustangs’ training… It meant he mattered.

  To her.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, so he raised his hands in surrender. She blew out a loud breath. The tension cleared from her face and she laid back down on her side and pulled a blanket up to her neck. Her breasts were too amazing to be covered up. He lay down beside her and playfully tugged the blanket back down.

  “So, what’s your third question?” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth waiting for the death blow he feared her next question would be.

  “I’m saving that one for later.”

  Should he be relieved, or petrified?

  * * * *

  The luminescent dial on Boomer’s watch told him sunrise was more than a couple hours away. The lingering coals did nothing to warm the cold, damp cave. His head pounded, his leg throbbed, his hand shook, his skin felt too tight, and nausea crawled through his belly.

 

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