by Mindy Neff
She giggled, made a token protest at being hauled around like a sack of grain. Her bare feet dangled a foot off the floor, her bottom rode the button of his jeans, and her soft, pert breasts rested against his forearm. When she wiggled against him, Stony wrapped his other arm around her waist and buried his lips in her neck.
This woman was like a drug in his system.
She reached back, put her hand at the back of his head and encouraged him to continue. ‘‘Mmm,’’ she murmured. ‘‘Call me wild thing, will you. Have you looked in the mirror lately?’’
For a split instant, his arms tightened, his insides going still. He couldn’t help it. The reminder of reflections in glass twisted his stomach.
Get over it, guy.
Scraping his teeth over her earlobe, he ground her derriere against the rigid arousal behind the fly of his jeans, torturing himself, determined to coax that little breathy sound of surrender that she invariably made so prettily, so easily.
Her responsiveness was a soothing balm and a giant boost to his ego. His hand slid down to cup her, the tails of his shirt that she wore creating a thin barrier between his fingers and her feminine heat.
She moaned. ‘‘Stony…’’
‘‘Uh-uh. Ice cream first.’’ He eased her down the front of his body until her feet touched the floor, but kept his hands at her waist, preventing her from turning. Because if she turned, he knew damned well he’d haul her right back to that bed.
‘‘You are a very bad man.’’
‘‘And you are a very good woman.’’
She smiled, walked forward at his urging. ‘‘You’re fishing for a reciprocal compliment.’’
He let her precede him down the stairs. ‘‘To a man, bad is the highest compliment.’’
She glanced back at him, licked her lips. ‘‘Good…because I like that in a man. A little bit bad. A little bit dangerous. Know what I mean?’’
There was invitation in that sassy look, the kind any man would recognize and drop to his knees to kiss the ground in thanks for.
The kind of look that told him he could have her body and do anything his heart desired.
‘‘Stick your head in that freezer, wild thing. We both need a break here.’’
Chapter Ten
Stony figured he was the one who ought to stick his head in the freezer. The tantalizing sight of Eden wearing only his shirt, the hem hiking up as she reached for a carton of ice cream, kept his body on slow simmer.
‘‘I wonder if Nikki’s having a good time with Ian,’’ Eden said as she took bowls down from the cabinet and scooped large helpings of peanut-butter swirl into them.
‘‘I imagine they’re asleep.’’
‘‘Mmm, I imagine.’’ She set the dishes on the table and sat down, licking a drip of ice cream off her knuckle. ‘‘I miss her.’’
Stony picked up his spoon, hesitated for just a moment, searching for signs of subterfuge. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and he was ashamed of himself. Especially since all he saw in her open face was honesty.
‘‘It’s only been a few hours.’’
‘‘You can’t tell me you don’t miss her, too.’’
‘‘I do. Every time she’s out of my sight I’m conscious of it. That little girl has my heart.’’
‘‘Oh my gosh.’’ Holding her spoon aloft, she put her free hand over her chest. ‘‘That is so touching.’’
No, he thought, it was just fact. But Eden’s expression was so classically female, so classically mushy, he smiled. The scarred skin beside his eye pulled, and he automatically compensated.
‘‘How come you do that?’’
‘‘Do what?’’
‘‘Stop yourself every time you’re about to smile.’’
‘‘I don’t.’’
‘‘You do.’’ She laid down her spoon, propped her chin on her hand. ‘‘Will you tell me how you got that scar?’’
Ah, hell. For long periods of time he could forget that it was there. He avoided mirrors unless they were absolutely necessary—like when shaving. His looks disgusted him, but that was no call to slit his throat.
‘‘Eat your ice cream.’’
‘‘I am.’’ But she didn’t even attempt to pick up her spoon.
Stony shoved away his bowl and leaned back in the chair. ‘‘It’s no big deal.’’
‘‘Then it shouldn’t bother you to talk about it, should it?’’
‘‘Are you always this tenacious?’’
‘‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.’’
Yes, it took tenacity and a fierce, fierce desire for her to pursue this pregnancy, to risk the odds, to go so far as to marry a stranger to get what she wanted. What she needed. She wasn’t a woman to give up easily.
‘‘I got it in the explosion that killed Nikki’s parents.’’
‘‘Oh, no.’’
He nodded, realized it had been a long time since he’d talked about his friends. That wasn’t right. He needed to keep their memory alive. For himself. And especially for Nikki.
‘‘Dani and Nick Langly were high school sweethearts, my neighbors and very close friends. I was an impromptu midwife when Dani went into early labor out on a cattle drive.’’
‘‘She went on a cattle drive in advanced pregnancy?’’
‘‘Ranch wives are different from other women.’’ When Eden raised her brows, he added, ‘‘In my experience.’’
‘‘Which is fairly limited, I might point out, since the older folks in town are convinced there’s a lack of females around here and are dragging women in off the highway.’’
‘‘Not exactly off the highway.’’ He smiled. She had a point. He hadn’t known a lot of women who’d been pregnant or given birth. ‘‘Dani thought she had a month to go, that’s why she’d insisted on manning the chuck wagon. When she went into labor, Nick lost it. Never mind that he knew as much about the birth process as I did—which was only based on animals—he just went into a tailspin, and I ended up delivering the baby.’’
He absently rubbed his chest. ‘‘Most incredible thing I’ve ever done in my life.’’ He glanced up at Eden, saw the compassion on her face, the interest, the way her hand was unconsciously pressed over her womb…the yearning. And he suddenly hoped like hell that he could give her the miraculous experience of giving birth.
‘‘They asked me to be Nikki’s godfather, and there was no way I could refuse—or that I’d want to refuse. It was as if she was mine. I’d wanted a family and thought I’d get one when I married Paula. But Paula kept saying she wasn’t ready. So Nikki was like my surrogate kid. There was a special bond between us.’’
He raked a hand through his hair, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his widespread knees.
‘‘I visited the Langly ranch a lot—as much, I think, to see and hold Nikki as to visit with my friends. That’s what I was doing that day. As well as being territorial over the chuck wagon, Dani was an attorney and worked out of an office in the house so she wouldn’t have to leave the baby. Nikki’s second birthday was coming up, and between work and party plans, Dani had a lot on her plate, and that day she’d been especially relieved when I took Nikki off her hands. We were in the tack room and Nick and Dani kept brushing up against one another. I decided to give them a little privacy.’’
He shifted in the chair again, restless, feeling raw, as though the nightmare had taken place yesterday instead of three years ago.
‘‘One minute I was standing outside the barn holding Nikki and the next thing I knew an explosion had taken the top off the barn and knocked me several feet away. Thank God my body was big enough to shield Nikki from the debris hurled by the blast. That’s how I got this.’’ He tapped a finger at his brow.
‘‘Oh, Stony. How awful for you.’’
‘‘The cut was the easiest part. I didn’t even feel it. The hard part was listening to Dani’s voice as she repeated Nick’s name over and over. I could hear her pain and fear, knew by her tone that Nick wa
s already gone. I called to her, told her I was okay, that Nikki was okay, and that I would come for her, to just hold on. When she heard me, she just started screaming. God, I’ll never forget it. Save the baby, Stony! Get her out. Get her out. Get her out.’’ He closed his eyes, repeated the words even as he heard them echoing in his head—in Dani’s voice. ‘‘She thought I was still inside the barn.’’
His eyes snapped up when Eden threaded her fingers through his, squeezed hard and held on. Her strength surprised him. Her genuine compassion made his stomach flip. He squeezed back, then released her hand. He wasn’t used to compassion, didn’t totally know how to accept it.
‘‘I tried to get them out. God, I tried. I handed Nikki off to one of the ranch hands who’d come running at the sound of the blast. But I couldn’t see. There was blood in my eyes, and smoke and flames formed a barricade between me and any hope of making it back inside.’’ His voice lowered. ‘‘By then Dani’s voice had gone silent.’’ For all his size and brawn, he’d felt so totally inadequate. Even now he could hardly bear to think what kind of pain she might have been in, how she’d suffered.
He took a deep breath, shook off the memories. ‘‘So, that’s it.’’
‘‘Did you find out what caused the explosion?’’
‘‘Linseed oil on some rags that got kicked too close to the pilot on the water heater.’’
‘‘You should never hide that scar, Stony, or be self-conscious. It’s your badge of courage and honor.’’
‘‘I wasn’t courageous. I couldn’t save Dani and Nick.’’
‘‘But you saved Nikki.’’
‘‘Luck. She was in my arms.’’
‘‘And you shielded her with your body, nearly got yourself killed in the process, I imagine. And it took great courage and honor to uphold your promise to Dani and Nick. You’re an exceptional father, Stony. Your friends would be so happy and proud.’’
He wasn’t comfortable with her praise, yet at the same time he reveled in it, wanted to be heroic in her eyes.
She fidgeted in her chair, made circles in the melted peanut-butter swirl with her spoon. ‘‘And Paula…what happened between the two of you?’’
‘‘Now there’s a subject not worth a lot of time. Paula married me because I had money. I met her at a horse auction. She was beautiful, classy and pure plastic.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Too bad I didn’t see that sooner. Would have saved me a million bucks and—’’
‘‘Wait. Back up. Did you say a million dollars?’’
He barely nodded. Watched her. She was astonished, yes, but no ghoulish dollar signs lit her eyes.
‘‘You’ve got that kind of money, and you insisted on signing a prenuptial to protect my catering company’s assets from you?’’
‘‘It was good business sense.’’
‘‘Well. I guess I won’t lose any more sleep over splitting the company coffers.’’ She waved a hand. ‘‘My mouth’s closed now. You can go on with your story.’’
It gave him a punch that she so easily spoke about their pending separation—even though her tone had been wry. And he was annoyed that he was bothered by the reminder. After all, the time limit had been his suggestion.
‘‘Paula hated it here in Shotgun Ridge. She didn’t fit in. She dressed inappropriately for ranch life and she was bored out of her mind. Every chance she got she’d hitch a ride to the city with Wyatt or Ethan or Ethan’s brothers—who all flew planes. One thing Paula was good at was shopping.’’
‘‘What in the world kept y’all together?’’
‘‘Sex.’’
She blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Nodded. ‘‘I don’t believe we need to go into details about that.’’
He wouldn’t have, anyway. ‘‘So when I took Nikki in, Paula packed her bags. Said she hadn’t signed on for kids. She wanted money and she wanted out. Told me I wasn’t sophisticated enough for her tastes.’’
Eden’s hand came down hard on the table. ‘‘Are you joking?’’
He smiled. Her indignation on his behalf made the nasty subject a little easier. ‘‘Nope. She wanted a guy who wore tuxedos and drove a Jaguar. Hell, I couldn’t even fold myself into one of those things. At first she thought my money would make up for the drawbacks. Turns out it didn’t.’’ She’d told him he was an exceptional lover. That’s why she’d stayed two years—because he made her crave sex like an addict craves drugs. That at least had been a salve to the slap…until she’d turned the slap into a blow by telling him she’d had to keep her eyes closed—especially after the explosion had ripped apart his face. That little zinger had cost him some pride.
Paula taught him his personal limitations. Money could only buy happiness for a little while. And good sex couldn’t hold a person forever.
In hindsight he wondered if the sex had really been all that good with Paula. She’d been okay in bed, a little selfish. She craved the pleasure he could give her but rarely returned it. She didn’t get involved, didn’t run her hands and mouth and body over him until he couldn’t remember his own name, didn’t shoot his control to hell and back, didn’t drive him mad with a sexy-as-sin Southern drawl.
‘‘Paula was a shallow witch,’’ Eden said. ‘‘You’re better off without her—though I’m sorry she took your money.’’ How awful for him. Rubbing salt in the wound. Eden couldn’t imagine anyone acting the way Paula had.
Looking at Stony, she was hard-pressed to keep her libido under a boil. His chest was wide, his stomach flat. A physical man in excellent physical condition. And he looked so sexy sprawled in that chair, shirtless and shoeless, a pair of well-broken-in jeans molding his thighs and cupping his sex. She nearly groaned.
‘‘Thanks for worrying over my bank account.’’
Eden thought she detected a smile in his voice, but wasn’t sure. This man didn’t show his cards often. ‘‘I don’t give a fig about your bank account. I was thinking about you. A million dollars seems particularly nasty.’’
She stood and picked up the two bowls swimming with foamy melted ice cream, rinsed the dishes and bent over to put them in the dishwasher. Her bedroom was in her line of vision, and she wondered if she should sleep there for the rest of the night—or morning, rather. Would she be presuming too much if she went back to Stony’s room?
Stony swallowed a groan when Eden bent over. The shirt had ridden up just high enough to tease.
He watched her walk back across the room, looked up at her when she stopped in front of him. She drew in a breath that had her breasts lifting.
‘‘Something on your mind?’’ he asked. He hoped they were done talking about the past. Rehashing tragedy and failure had a tendency to tie a knot in a man’s gut. Even now, emotions were raging inside him, a turbulence that had no outlet. At least, not for a few minutes yet.
He saw her glance at her room and realized what was making her skittish all of a sudden.
‘‘Don’t even think about it,’’ he said. She stood next to him, a dish towel in her hand, the tails of his shirt hanging to her midthigh, her legs very close to straddling his knee. He knew she didn’t have a stitch on under that shirt, and he went from zip to hard in three seconds.
She exhaled, and he saw relief. She wanted him, but was obviously minding her Southern manners lest she appear greedy.
Stony didn’t have any such problems with manners. Greedy was good. Something about Eden Williams brought out a different side to him, an insatiable aggression.
He stood, crowding her, watched the flush of desire spread over her chest, up her neck. Her lips were parted, and those wide green eyes were so expressive.
He smiled slowly. ‘‘Sugar did that ice cream do anything to revive you?’’
‘‘Well…I’m—’’
‘‘Too late.’’ He hooked his hands around the backs of her thighs, lifted her onto the table and stepped between her spread legs. With his eyes spearing hers, he reached for the snap of his jeans, pulled down the zipper and stepped out of the
pants.
‘‘Ready?’’ he asked softly. ‘‘Or not?’’
Here I come, Eden’s mind finished silently. His words were a blatant, exquisitely thrilling sensual threat.
Eden swallowed hard. ‘‘Yes,’’ she whispered.
‘‘Yes, what?’’
‘‘I’m ready.’’
His hands rubbed a lazy path over the tops of her thighs, his thumbs skimming the insides, coming very, very close to where she was naked and most vulnerable…arousing, teasing.
And all the while he studied her. A look so exclusive—dangerous even—she shivered.
‘‘I want you so bad right now, Eden. And I want it fast. So if you want to cry uncle, now’s the time.’’
She shook her head, could hardly speak. Anticipation and desire shot through her with such force, she experienced a scary and appalling moment where she feared she might swoon.
‘‘Then hang on tight, baby.’’ He ripped open the snaps of her shirt.
Her breath caught. Oh-oh, here was that danger she’d teased about upstairs. I like that in a man, she’d said. A little bit bad. A little bit dangerous.
She trusted him completely, but that didn’t stop the tiny sexual thrill of fear from rushing through her veins. She’d had no idea Stony Stratton would be so unpredictable, so unrestrained, such an expert, self-confident lover.
He hadn’t even started, and her desire was already over the top, her nerves singing with the same urgency she saw in his face.
With one hand on the center of her chest and the other supporting the back of her shoulders, he laid her down on the table, then yanked her hips to him and her legs around his waist as he thrust into her.
Eden’s back arched off the table. Her lungs wouldn’t take in enough air, or maybe it was too much. She didn’t know. She only knew that this was utter, glorious bliss. She would surely go down in the record books for the most climaxes in a single wedding night.
He pulled her up to a sitting position, his hand under her long hair, cradling the back of her head. The tender hold was in direct contrast to the carnal way their bodies strained and fused.