by Anne Marsh
“Come,” I whisper roughly. “Come for me, baby.”
She jerks against me, and I feel the tiny spasms starting and then she locks her thighs around my hand, holding me close. Holding me in place as if I’d fucking leave her now. I’d like to capture each happy, greedy sound she makes, the sweet, salty scent of her on my fingers. She’s so perfect.
I’ve never been one for cuddling. I don’t like the sensation of other bodies pressed up against mine anymore. Fucking memories. But when Rose relaxes against me, it’s all good. I tuck her against me, leaning back against the truck and watching her, the sky, my ranch. Her breathing evens out, and I breathe with her.
Right when I’m starting to think she’s fallen asleep, she looks up, a mischievous grin lighting up her eyes.
“How about friends with benefits?” She loops her arms around my neck, and I grunt. I’m no good with labels. The rain disappears, sweeping over the next hill. The low growl of the thunder fades, and all that’s left is the scent of wet ground, wet metal and the very wet woman in my arms. This is worth coming home for.
She peeks up at me, and I don’t know what she expects. My face is no book. I don’t come with instructions when I don’t fucking understand myself. I’ve had my fingers in her pussy though, and now she has one hot cowboy on her hands. When I get her back to the house, I’m gonna be inside her too, the way she’s somehow inside me.
There are moments you remember. Like when your team pulls it out in the final seconds of a game you want badly, and the ball is through the uprights, straight and true, and the crowd’s on its feet, roaring. Rose is my game that I have to win, and my heart’s making all kinds of noise. No matter what comes next, I’ve got this new memory and I like the thought of it shoving one of the bad ones away to make room for Rose.
We should head back, but I’m not ready yet. I might as well go all out. Scooping her up, I set her on her feet.
“Dance with me.”
Pulling her into a slow, sensual two-step, I dance her in a slow circle as the last of the raindrops come down around us. It’s just the two of us, the lowing cattle singing us a little song in the background, and the metallic scent of the pickup wet with rain. The rain isn’t enough to solve my water issues, but right now, for this one moment, I don’t give a damn.
“You’re not half bad.” She looks up at me as we dance, and she’s looking for words, for an explanation for this sudden shift in our relationship.
“I’m all bad,” I tell her because it’s the truth. She needs to know what she’s getting—and what she’ll never get from me. “I don’t do emotions or relationships.”
“Just sex?” She tilts her head back to look at the sky as I swing her in a circle, pretending I hear the same song she does.
Sometimes even sex is too much. For a moment, the Afghani mountains eat up my surroundings again, but I’m tougher than that. Or I pretend I am. Same fucking difference.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Rose.”
That’s an understatement. I smooth the damp strands of hair away from her face. “You always have been.”
She looks surprised, and for a second I think she’s gonna say something, but then the moment passes.
“You never seemed to think so before,” she points out. Our steps slow, but she doesn’t let go of my shoulders. Hot. That’s what she is.
“You wanted me to tell my sorta stepsister that I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen? That wouldn’t have been appropriate, and we both know it.”
Her momma never married my dad, but they slept together. I try not to think too hard about that, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Rose lived in my house, and I’ve got more years on her than I should.
“So now I’m older, it’s all okay?” She laughs at me with her eyes. Her tattoos are a blur of color through the soaked tank top. I still haven’t seen them clearly, and I want to. “We probably shouldn’t…”
There’s no probably about it, but if she’ll let me hold her, I’ll hold on. And then I’m gonna do other things, dirty things she’ll enjoy.
Maybe she’s doing some thinking of her own because her leg—her bare leg—shifts, rubbing against the erection straining against my jeans. I’m gonna have zipper tracks on my dick, but it’s worth it.
“Then I guess we have a whole lot of lost time to make up for.” She rubs against me again, and my dick shoves against the front of my pants. I need to get her home.
Civilized and decent don’t cover how I feel right now. Her rain-soaked body moving against mine is raw. Earthy. Christ, yes, I want to fuck her, to lose myself in her. She’s old enough, and she wants this. But I’m suddenly not so certain sex is all I want.
“Don’t overthink.” She places her hand over my mouth and damned if I’m not okay with that little take-charge gesture. I still nip her fingers though. She sucks in a breath, her nipples poking at the front of her tank top. “This is simple. Do we… have something here? Yes or no.”
She’s pushing.
I should get in the truck. She can stay here and have a conversation with herself about how she feels. I wasn’t shitting her when I said I didn’t do emotions or relationships. Other than hate. I gotta admit, that there are plenty of people I rub the wrong way. They’ve got strong emotions for me, and not the good kind.
And yet I give in to the temptation to press a kiss against her palm, to inhale the sweet, clean scent of her. When I move my head, her hand slips down to cup my jaw. Game. Over.
“Goddamn it, yes, Rose.”
She nods. Of course, she just got what she wanted. Twice. I’m the one who’s wrung out and who has blue balls and feelings. “No more talking. Not now. Let’s just dance.”
I swing her around, holding her in my arms. Taking a long second to savor the heat and scent of my woman. This time, I lower my mouth slowly. My first kiss is no more than a warm brush of my lips against her closed mouth. Her skin feels so fucking soft beneath mine. There’s no other explanation for what I say next. Not like she’s torturing me or holding me hostage. I’ve starred in both those shit scenarios, and there’s everything right about this dance.
“You’re perfect, darling,” I whisper.
Because it’s so true, it hurts. Rose is goddamned perfect and I’d have to be blind not to see it.
I kiss her again, harder and deeper. Wrap my arms around her, pulling her up against me until I feel every inch of her. When our kiss grows hotter, she slides her hands up my arms, locking her fingers behind my neck and pulling me down in to her as she meets me touch for touch in a blaze of sweet heat. For once, my body and my head are in agreement about what comes next. I’m taking her home.
I’m making her mine.
ROSE
I’m crazy.
Or I’m weak.
Possibly both.
Because right now I’m ready to give Angel whatever he wants and you don’t ever give a man like him free rein. This could be what love feels like, I realize. Except that I know the emotions Angel stirs in me have much more to do with my pussy than with my heart. Angel’s a big, hard-ass cowboy, and teasing him, trying to control him is stupid.
He’s going to own me.
And I don’t care… Angel stares at me, eyes dark with the most delicious emotions, and he’s at least a little bit mine right now. He said so himself.
He danced with me in the rain.
“Let’s go back to the ranch,” I whisper and then I tug the door open and scramble inside. It’s not dignified, but I’m happy and laughing. Angel doesn’t smile enough. Sometimes I smile too much. Maybe that makes us good for each other? At the very least we balance each other out.
He goes around and climbs into the truck, turning the engine on and reaching for the heater switch. Warm air fills the cab and I shiver at the contrast.
“You should take that stuff off.” Angel indicates my clothes with a flick of his finger.
Uh-huh. Nice try. “You think riding back to the ranch naked is wise?”
His eyes darken. “I’d enjoy the hell out of it, darling, but I was offering a trade.”
He holds out his T-shirt and then fishes a wash-worn flannel out of the truck’s narrow back seat.
Okay then.
I strip off. Bad idea or not, I’m making Angel mine. I want it all: this life, these mountains, and this man. He watches me shimmy out of my wet clothes and I know he likes what he sees, but that’s the outside me. He doesn’t know what I’m like inside, doesn’t know the secrets I have. I curl up against Angel, soaking in his heat and strength.
He’s got secrets of his own, shadows he doesn’t tell anyone about. Based on what I saw at that cattle station, his water situation is dire. When people talk about how the weight of the world is on his shoulders? That’s the way Angel looked, staring at his pump and his empty trough. It’s more than his need to be in control of everyone and everything. He wants to keep everyone safe, but he’s only one man. I can’t witch water for him and my rain dancing won’t make the clouds open up. There’s nothing I can do but help him forget. Make him smile.
I keep my panties on, though, because I’m not sneaking into the ranch house commando.
He guides the truck back onto the road. “I’m just gonna take those back off you.”
“And I’m not going to mind.”
I’m not going to overthink this afternoon. I want Angel Mendoza to strip me down and screw me until all I can think about is him. He’ll make it good while it lasts because he doesn’t do anything halfway—and, if I’m his, he’ll take care of me.
Like he does his brothers, the ranch, and the goddamned waterless cattle. He watches out for everybody and everything, but I suspect there’s no one watching out for him. Nobody who’s seen him dancing in the rain, two-stepping with a girl he barely knows because she thinks it’s fun and he’ll give her whatever he can.
When he’s not busy being an asshole, he might actually be likeable.
“I don’t have much experience at relationships.” Honestly? I have none. Bubkis. I’m a relationship virgin. On the other hand? I know how to improvise.
I curl up with my head on his thigh, my fingers stroking the inside of his knee. If I turn just a little, my mouth will brush against the monster erection he’s sporting.
He drives faster. “Got it. Orgasms, not emotions.”
I didn’t realize he was taking orders. “Okay.”
It’s a deal. Never mind that I kind of want to protest, to ask for both. I’m also pretty certain we’re lying to each other. We’re in over our heads here and there are so many feelings filling up the truck’s cab that we’re choking on them.
ANGEL
“Last chance.” The pickup roars beneath the hand-lettered sign announcing Blackhawk Ranch. Usually, when I drive beneath that sign, I can’t stop the little flare of pride. No fucking reason to hold back or bottle up that particular feeling. My daddy did his best to run our place into the ground after our mama died, but I held on. My brothers and I made the sign ourselves, burning each letter into the wood, one by one. Would have branded each other too, but that wasn’t practical.
The sign means there’s half a mile left until I have Rose where I want her. Under me. In my bed. My dick tunneling deep into her pussy. When I turn and look her over, to see if I’ve scared her off or if she’s ready to run, she watches me back. She looks hungry.
“You’re not getting off that easy, cowboy. If you’ve got cold feet, let me know.” Curling her legs up on the seat, she leans into me. She’s wearing my dry T-shirt and I’ve turned the heater on, soaking the cab in warmth. Her hair curls wildly as it dries and I put a hand on her leg. It’s stupid, but I need to touch her now, even though I can see the house up ahead. Two more minutes, and I’ll have her home.
Home. She returned to Lonesome, probably expecting to inherit a place of her own. Instead, she’s getting half a ranch that she can’t possibly afford. I could fix it up for her, but I’m fairly certain she’d knee me in the balls. Plus, I need that water. Fixing up a house and then immediately bulldozing it makes no sense. We should talk about this. I should explain about the water. And then she’d have something to hold over my head, which wouldn’t end well for me.
I’m no angel.
“There’s nothing cold about me, darling.” I grin as I throw the pickup into park. I love winning, and that’s the truth.
“So,” she asks, leaning toward me before I can get my hand on the door. “Are you still mad at me for making you wait so long for me to get here?”
If we sit here too long, half the house will be out to see what’s up. I don’t want an audience for what I have in mind.
“You did take months,” I drawl.
“I thought about taking more,” she admits.
I close my hand over hers, tugging her close for a quick, hard kiss. Screw the potential audience. At some point, they’re all gonna find out. “Why didn’t you?”
She kisses me back even as she smiles. Fuck, but her smile lights up her face. When her tongue traces my bottom lip, I’m seriously afraid I won’t be able to walk into the house.
“I got laid off,” she tells me. “Lost my job and couldn’t keep up with my expenses, so I figured it was smarter to come back here now, where I have the house, even if I can’t afford to fix up the tattoo shop yet.”
Starting a business is hard work, and it generally requires large amounts of cash. It’s like feeling your way across quicksand, not knowing where the danger ends and the fucking happily ever after starts. It’s not that I don’t think she can do it—Rose can do whatever she sets her heart on, with the possible exception of this relationship crap she’s interested in starting with me—but this isn’t the right time or place. She needs to learn to pick her battles. I should know. I’ve spent most of my life here, working my ass off to keep the place going. Ranching sucks the life out of good men who’ve poured themselves, heart and soul, into their places. My Rose is so alive—I don’t want to see that joy drain away.
“I would have come for you,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t have let you stay away from me forever.”
“Promises,” she said lightly, but I recognize the hunger in her eyes as she shifts away from me, already reaching for the door. She’s always been impatient, never able to wait. Honestly, I’m looking forward to making her do some waiting now. “You want to spank me, Angel, for misbehaving?”
Hell, now there’s an image to make a man think twice. I can see her, her delicious little ass all cherry-pink while I heat her butt just a bit. Just before I kiss it all better.
We need to get inside now. Even I can’t fuck her in the driveway outside the house where anyone can see us.
Getting out of the truck, I come around the side. For once, she waits, her hand on the edge of the door. Not for me to open it but for me to take charge of the moment. I need my ass kicked for the satisfaction that floods me. She’s mine. I’m also damned tired of being two steps behind her. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look hesitant, though. Usually, Rose moves through life like she knows precisely where she’s going and what she wants. Shit’s changing between us, though, and clearly she knows it.
So I’ll just have to convince her that this change is a good one. Once I have her in my arms, I’ll show her precisely how things have changed for the better between us. I’ll show her just how good we can be together.
Pulling open her door and reaching in for her, I swing her up into my arms. She’s barefoot, after all. Barefoot and wearing nothing but my too-long shirts and the panties she refused to drop. I need to change her mind and fast, because I am dying here.
ROSE
Angel scoops me up in his arms and I let him. He’s still shirtless, because I’ve absconded with his clothes, but jeans, boots, and his Stetson are a good look for him. He could be posing for the cover of a book or a Cowboy McHottie calendar. I’m definitely enjoying my view as he reaches for me. Broad shoulders, a rough dusting of hair on his chest, and so many muscles and s
crumptious places to explore on his midsection… I’m not sure where to start when I get him alone, but I’ve got a long, long list of potential spots. I’d swear the man has an eight-pack and right now I’m happy to borrow him.
“A girl could get used to this.” I loop my arms around his neck, pressing my face against his skin and dragging him deeper inside me with each breath I take. Man and outdoors, leather and sage. God, he smells good. I’m going to need a twelve-step plan to get over him when we part ways, because Angel is addictive.
He pushes the truck door shut with one booted foot, and then we head into the house just like this, him carrying me as if I’m the bride in a story. I’m not one for marriage or fantasies, but it’s kind of fun, provided we can make it to his room unseen. I’m not shy, but I also don’t want to share this moment with anyone else. And Angel comes with plenty of someone elses, including those brothers of his.
“I think we’re going to make it,” he says, voicing my unspoken fears. Maybe he’s not ready to share this change with the world just yet either. That works for me.
He certainly carries me through the house at a pace that would make a SEAL team proud, and the house is worth slowing down to appreciate because it’s spectacular.
He takes the stairs even more quickly than the front door, his face focused on his end goal, and I fight back an inappropriate case of the giggles. Not that sex can’t be fun, but Angel isn’t the kind of guy you laugh at, and I plan to rock his world. He wrapped me around his talented, super-sexy fingers when we were out on the ranch, but I’m returning that favor with interest. I owe him an orgasm.
He sets me on my feet just inside his bedroom door. I’ve never been in Angel’s bedroom before, either here or at the old house. There’s another fireplace and tall, vaulted ceilings. The windows look out onto the ranch and the mountains, presumably so Angel can keep an eye on his empire even when he’s relaxing or fucking. The furniture is on the same epic scale, the gorgeous dark wood both expensive and very masculine. A smack on my butt propels me further into the room, and Angel shuts and locks the door behind us.