Again and again.
“All finished!” he called out, pointing back to the barn.
Harper followed, enjoying the cool breeze against her face as they passed the scrub brush and Russian olive trees with their heavy resin scent.
They pulled behind the barn and parked, then Sterling extended his hand in invitation.
Harper accepted, savoring the warmth, the security his touch represented. As they walked hand in hand toward the drive, the underground sprinklers came on over the yard. She noticed a rushing sound of water, then frowned at the sight of one sprinkler shooting a geyser into the sky.
“Damn it,” Sterling swore and released her hand. He jogged over to where the water shot upward.
Harper followed, pretty sure she knew what was happening. Damn sprinkler heads.
Just as Sterling was approaching the broken one, another one broke, shooting water into the air and raining down on him.
Harper bit back a laugh as Sterling startled then appeared to sigh as his shoulders rose and then fell.
“Where’s the control box?” Harper called out.
Sterling turned and walked out of the spray, wiping down his face. “Barn.”
“On it.” Harper whipped around and ran toward the barn. Scanning the walls, she found the sprinkler box then opened it and flipped the switch from automatic to off.
The sound of water slowed and stopped.
Running back to the yard, she watched as Sterling bent down and picked up two sprinkler heads.
“Broken, huh?” she asked, walking up to him.
“Yeah, I didn’t know they shot up like that.” He gave a small grin to Harper.
She shrugged. “Happens. Since it’s irrigation water, sometimes the filter misses something, and it jams in the sprinkler. Then the pressure builds up and...boom!” She made an explosive motion with her hands.
“Boom.” He plucked at his soaked T-shirt.
The fabric bounced back and clung to Sterling’s wet skin, giving her a perfect outline of his abs. Her mouth went dry.
“Up here, Harper.” He snapped his fingers twice, a wicked glint in his eye.
Harper’s cheeks heated, but she hitched a shoulder. “The view is better there.”
Sterling grinned, but he looked away to the house. “Well, I probably should change before I take you home. Laken will kill me if I soak her car.” He gave a half grin as he turned back to her.
Harper wondered at his quick shift in conversation topic, but assumed it was probably due to that self-control he was trying to maintain.
And the temptation to snap it was almost beyond her ability to withstand.
“I’ll help.” She walked toward him holding out her hand, waiting.
Sterling studied her with his powerful gray stare, as if trying to read her intention. He squeezed her hand, and they walked toward the house. The air was electric while he dug the keys from his wet pocket with his other hand and unlocked the door.
Harper took a deep breath as they entered, questioning her sanity as she followed Sterling down the hall. “So, Laken and Cyler are gone?”
Sterling paused, watching her. “Till tomorrow.” He regarded her cautiously, the same way she would approach skittish colt.
Only the skittish colt was her.
Her hand trembled as she released his grasp and slowly ran her palm up his wet shirt, the chill sending a shiver up her spine, her heart pounding adrenaline through her system. Fight or flight.
Only it was just love.
It was alarming how much they felt alike. Yet were so different.
At least they should be.
In a perfect world. Not the one where she existed.
“Harper.” Sterling whispered her name, caressing it with his rough tone, sending her nerve endings to crackling with understanding.
Her fingers bumped over the ridges in his abs, and she slowly gripped the wet fabric, her nails biting into it as she tugged upward, exposing just a hint of tan skin.
She breathed out slowly, her breath hitching as she kept her gaze low, not able to bring herself to meet his eyes.
Not yet.
As she lifted the fabric higher, a low groan rumbled through his chest, and instinctively, her gaze flickered up, meeting his scorching gray eyes. Her hands paused, and she got the sense that he wanted her to move faster, but she was paralyzed.
So rather than move, she waited.
Breathing in, breathing out, and then Sterling closed his eyes, breaking the trance.
Free, she found her courage and lifted his shirt up over his head, while he raised his arms to assist. His dog tags clinked as they landed back on his chest. The wet garment hit the floor, and she zeroed in on the metallic necklace that represented Sterling’s past life.
He sucked in a breath as her cold hands skipped across his skin, lifting the tags to study them. It was an intimate exchange to hold his past in one hand and his present in another as she laced her free hand through his. She studied the words.
Capt. Sterling Garlington
Her gaze froze as she read the first word again.
Captain.
She remembered his earlier words, his warning. Don’t call me that unless...
Tugging gently on the metal chain, she watched as he slowly lowered his head. Her lips hovered just above his as she rallied her bravery.
“Well, then, Captain...” She closed the distance between their mouths, his heat immediately flowing through her lips and igniting her entire body, burning away her hesitation.
Sterling’s hands snaked up her arms and pulled her in tightly against his body. His tongue teased her lower lip as his hand dipped under her shirt and trailed along her bare skin, leaving a fiery trail of need in his wake.
She tilted her head, the kiss spiraling out of control as Sterling’s chest pushed against hers, backing her until she was pinned against the wall. His hands moved to her hips, spanning them, then tugging her in tight. His length pressed against her, large and thick.
Reaching down, she traced along the ridge, a grin teasing her lips. She watched his reaction as she touched him through the wet denim. He was beautiful. Masculine. A living, breathing fantasy. Lips, swollen and wet, parted as he panted. Need and steely control flashed through his eyes as he thrust into her touch, closing his lids with pleasure.
“Harper.” Sterling groaned her name as his hands gripped her hips, before he released her abruptly.
A moment later, he grasped both of her hands in one of his and laced his fingers through hers above her head before gently pressing their foreheads together, his breathing erratic. He plastered his body to hers, meeting her lips with a hunger that left her breathless. He cupped her breast, and her hands jerked at the intense pleasure, but she couldn’t move them.
Panic seized Harper, and at her jerk, Sterling released her and stepped back just enough to give her room. His chest rose and fell with desire, yet confusion and caution seemed to war within him.
“It’s just...” she started, not quite knowing how to finish. Her head dropped forward as shame washed over her. “I needed to move...my hands.”
When Sterling didn’t answer, she gathered her courage and looked up. His stormy eyes had her trying to take a step back, but the wall prevented any further retreat.
“He hurt you.” Sterling spoke the words as a realization, not a question.
Harper absently rubbed her wrists, remembering the rope burns, remembering the pain.
But no scars.
At least not ones that were visible.
Sterling took a slow breath then extended his hand.
Fight or flight.
Her heart pounded, all earlier fearlessness gone as she stood on the knife’s edge of indecision.
Sterling made the choice for her. Closing the distance, he wrapped his a
rm around her waist, pulling her in tight as he placed the softest kiss across her lips. After drawing back, he spoke gently. “We’re going to heal all those scars on your heart, honey. No pain here...not with me. Just pleasure. The kind that makes you forget every single memory of what sex was before. Because we’re not just going to have sex. We’re going to make love, Harper.”
Her tension slowly eased when he kissed her again searchingly, as if pulling her consent from her soul before it ever was voiced.
“But I need one thing from you,” Sterling murmured against her lips, pulling her gently away from the wall and reaching a hand up her back, lifting her shirt softly.
“Anything.” Harper was lost, certain she’d agree to anything at this point.
She raised her hands and watched his eyes map her curves.
“Harper, I need control.”
No, anything but that.
She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak, but Sterling shook his head. “You need to learn that sometimes you need to let go, and honey, you can’t do that unless someone else leads you. Let me take you there, because I can’t have control unless you give it.” He paused, lips parted, his abs tight, his shoulders broad and tense as he waited for her answer.
“Permission. You’re asking for permission?” Harper not only saw the difference, she felt the difference, deep inside her core.
Sometimes control wasn’t giving up.
Control was letting go.
In that moment, she realized how much she desperately wanted to let go, to stop holding herself together with raw tenacity.
To be held together by someone else. Have someone else’s arms around her, keeping the pieces in place, rather than constantly holding them herself.
Swallowing hard, she nodded, unable to speak. She felt the walls around her start to crumble, piece by piece.
Parts of her heart once again started to gain feeling after having been numb for so long.
Hope.
It was powerful.
It was dangerous.
And somehow, even though she’d been through hell and back—
It had survived.
Like her.
“Come with me.” Sterling tugged on her hand, guiding her toward a bedroom. Eyes on him, she followed wordlessly, knowing everything was about to change.
And being willing to embrace that change for the first time.
While Sterling led her toward the bed, she scanned the room. She smiled as she realized that it fit so well with what she knew about this amazing man. Sunset-filtered light illuminated the tidy rows of boots against the wall beside the closet. The room was neatly ordered, mirroring his military background. No discarded clothes lying around, no random towels, just organization at its finest.
“Making judgments, Harper?” Sterling asked.
She turned her attention back to him, noting his arched brow and amused grin, even as she was distracted by his full lips and shirtless body. “Maybe,” she replied with far too much breath in her tone to sound credible.
“I’ll remember that.” He nodded, yanking her hand and quickly moving her toward him.
“Oh?” she asked, making eye contact, trailing her fingers up his forearms and over the mountains of his biceps.
“Damn, your hands on my skin make me forget every thought in my mind, honey.”
Grinning, Harper tiptoed her fingers across his chest, playing.
“Ah, you reminded me.” Sterling gave a predatory grin and, with a quick shove, sent her gently flying onto the mattress. Before she could gasp or laugh at the playful gesture, Sterling was on top of her, pressing against her body, nipping at her neck, and sending shivers down to her toes.
“I’m going to teach you another thing, sweetheart,” he murmured against her neck as his hands reached behind her and unhooked her lacy black bra.
The sudden release of the tension in the straps gave her a moment’s pause, but Sterling’s lips on her neck scattered the thought a fraction of a second later.
So. Good.
“This, right here...” He rubbed his nose along her neck, tickling her gently till she giggled softly. “...is also fun.” He arched back, meeting her gaze with a wide grin.
Harper returned the smile, unable to help herself and not wanting to, desperately wanting to believe everything he’d said, needing it to be true.
Not just sex, making love and enjoying it!
“Fun, huh?” Harper asked then hitched her leg up above his waist and shoved at his shoulder.
Grinning, he gave in and rolled over onto his back.
“This is how cowgirls ride,” she dared as she bent down and playfully bit his lip before kissing him fully. His tongue darted in to meet hers, dancing, playing, loving.
He cupped her breasts, weighing and toying with them, causing her body to hum, her heart to pound, and her hips to roll in anticipation. Sterling’s mouth left hers, and he moved her a bit higher. He trailed kisses down her neck, traveling lower till he took her breast in his mouth.
She couldn’t suppress the gasp of pleasure as she damn near saw stars explode in her vision.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Sterling mumbled as his lips traveled from one side to the other, his warm tongue doing wicked things.
Harper heard his words but couldn’t form a response.
“This is no rodeo, honey.” With quick movements, he flipped her over on her back, immediately branding her neck with his hot mouth.
Harper was powerless to offer any argument but simply bowed her neck more fully to give him unhindered access as she reached up and tugged on his blue jeans. She found the belt and blindly unlatched it.
“Say please,” Sterling whispered against her neck before returning to her lips. He bit her lip gently before pulling back and waiting.
Harper took a shallow breath. “Please,” she whispered, a prayer on her lips.
“Please, what?” he asked, nibbling down to her breast.
Gasping, she arched her back as his dog tags tickled her shoulder, reminding her of the word.
“Please, Captain.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sterling rose on his knees and slid from the bed.
Harper turned her head to watch, her heart still pounding a mad rhythm with her arousal.
Sterling stripped down to his plaid boxers, a small smile teasing his lips as he strained the stripes still covering him. Yet, as he kicked off his jeans, Harper’s focus lowered to his leg.
Angry and red, the scars that hashed across his calf from his knee to his ankle were still shiny and looked painful in appearance. Though he walked without a limp anymore, it was clear his injury wasn’t fully healed. In contrast to his other leg, he was missing a good portion of his calf muscle, and Harper’s heart seized at the pain she knew it still caused him.
“It’s not exactly pretty....” His hands were fisted as if he were waiting for her assessment of the damage.
“Sterling, people wear their scars differently. Some on the inside, some on the outside...but scars prove that we survived. And survival is beautiful, no matter how it ends up looking when we’re done.”
He took a deep breath, nodding once. “Scars outside.” He pointed to himself. “Scars inside.” He pointed to her heart, lingering there and placing his palm over the pounding. “Let’s start fixing yours.”
And with a soft kiss, he pressed into her, and Harper willingly stepped backward till her knees hit the bed then lay down, ready to let go.
Ready for her scars to show.
And for someone to finally find them beautiful.
CHAPTER 17
Sterling knew he had to move slowly, but more than anything, he wanted to simply own the woman on the bed, body and soul. He recognized that her trust was a fragile thing, and it wouldn’t take much to break it.
When she’d kissed his scars, he’d almost come undone. It had been the most powerful, erotic, and meaningful gesture any human had ever given him. As long as he lived, if he forgot all other things, he’d remember that one moment.
Harper’s eyes met his as he dispatched his boxers and slid his hands down his body, his blood heating as her gaze lowered. He took in her beautiful breasts, his fingers tingling to feel them once more, to lose himself in their soft spheres. His perusal traveled lower to where her cutoffs covered the rest of heaven.
Striding to the bed, he ignored the slight pain in his leg, cursing the fact that the drugs were starting to wear off. But as he slid a finger around Harper’s waistband, the discomfort was forgotten. She curved her back, allowing him access to sliding her little bitty shorts off her tight ass. Damn, she had curves in all the right places.
He’d once heard that eternity could be seen in a woman’s body. Damn, that had to be true, because he was seeing it right now in every inch of Harper. Her pink lacy panties left little to the imagination, and he enjoyed the slight tease they offered, so he didn’t remove them, yet. Rather, he wanted to soak in the moment and heal her a little bit too.
On the nightstand, Sterling saw a bandanna that Cyler had given him the first day he’d come home. He reached over and grabbed the neatly folded blue square and shook it out. “Do you trust me?”
Holding his breath, he watched as Harper slowly nodded, swallowing hard.
It was a yes, a hesitant one, but he could work with that.
Gently, he knelt on the bed and grasped one of her hands. Placing a soft kiss on her wrist, he inhaled the sweet scent of her honey, tangy and sweet. As he raised the scarf toward the bedframe, he felt her stiffen.
“Trust me,” he whispered, and she relaxed just enough for him to wrap the bandanna around the pedestal and then around her wrist, leaving enough length for her other hand.
The Cowgirl Meets Her Match (Elk Heights Ranch) Page 19