Instead, he pointed out the window. “Looks like someone finished your dock for you.”
Emily had to sit up tall to get her eyes at the same height as his, so she could see over the pond grasses. There, in the moonlight, was a completed dock, a little run of twelve feet or so, just out to where she knew the water got really deep, deep enough to dive in.
“They did it.” She imagined other kids working on it, kids like the younger version of herself, fifteen and certain she could make the world work just the way she wanted it to. That hadn’t worked out so far, but maybe it would for other kids. “Good for them. I like the idea that more girls like me are out there.”
“Boys might have built it, too.”
She dismissed his dry observation with a flick of her fingers. “The only reason the boys ever helped is because the girls were working on it first. We designed it. We got the boards and nails. But we were very concerned about our tan lines, you know, so we all thought the best thing to wear for hammering boards on a hot Sunday afternoon was a bathing suit. That’s when boys started showing up.”
“I stand corrected. That’s entirely plausible.”
“You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get a boy to do what you want when you’re wearing a bikini top and cut-off short-shorts.”
A small pause. “I’d believe it.”
She smiled at the memory. “I suspect girls in bikinis are behind a whole lot of industrious males.”
Graham laughed, outright laughed, and Emily turned toward him to laugh, too, but her breath caught in her chest. He looked so good, her handsome and buff bodyguard, when he was off duty and carefree. Almost as good as he looked after he kissed her.
I want him. I want to see him happy. I want to be the reason he’s happy.
She had another moment of vertigo, another emotion catching her by surprise, another change in where she saw herself in the world. Her dream of owning a ranch suddenly looked different; a man got painted into the picture. A lover, a friend. Of course—how had she thought it would be better to be on her own?
It was scary. Too much, too big of a change.
Graham opened his door. “Let’s go see how they did.”
The cold air came inside and brushed her cheeks, but her body was warm in his coat. He was going to be cold, though. Maybe he had another coat or a blanket or something. She turned to look in the back seat—two more bucket seats and another wide console separating them.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“You know, for parking at a make-out place, all this roomy luxury sucks. Not one bench seat. Just this mile-wide center barricade. Mr. Schumer would approve.”
At his silence, she looked up to find that he was leaning over the console, too, looking at the back seats with her. Their faces were so close—and his looked distinctly amused.
“Those seats recline,” he said. “Fully.”
“Ah.”
“A footrest comes up, so you can stretch out. It’s pretty luxurious.”
“I see.”
“Are we done with the backseat recon?”
“I was looking for—never mind.” She kissed him. Full on, mouth on mouth. His lips were so soft. The shadow of his beard was rough on her palm as she ran her hand along his jaw before burying her hand in his hair. She held his head firmly as she changed the angle of the kiss, leaning into him as she leaned a little farther across the console.
He let her control the kiss. When she nudged his lips apart with her own, he obeyed. When she nipped his lower lip, when she licked his upper lip, when she cupped his jaw in her two hands, he let her come closer and closer, inching his head back as she turned into him, her knee on her seat now for leverage as she pushed him back into his seat with kiss after kiss.
He took over, and he wanted to taste her. She wanted to let him. Without breaking off the kiss, he slid his hands under the coat, up her sides, and lifted her up and over the console, turning her so that she was lying in his lap, cradled in his arms, her legs draped across the console, her boots on the passenger seat. The coat was still wrapped around her, but she shivered, anyway, a physical thrill at how strong he was to be able to lift her so easily. He kept her close to his chest with one arm as he reached for the open door and slammed it shut.
And then, oh then, he really kissed her—her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead. Not little butterfly kisses, but passionate ones, like he was claiming her, every inch of her skin. He turned her head away with one hand and kissed her throat, then under her jaw, then her chin, then turned her head back to take her mouth. She’d never felt this before, never been kissed like this before. She could hardly think, but she knew that this, this, was being ravished.
And she loved it. She lay boneless in his strong arms, letting him show her just how much he wanted her, proving to her how much he could make her want him. His mouth returned to hers over and over, tasting her, then exploring her more slowly, but not gently. It was physical. It was carnal. He kissed her with intent. He kissed her like he owned her.
He didn’t want to stop. She knew that like she knew her own thoughts, but he lifted his lips from hers. A pause, another taste. Over her mouth, he growled a demand. “Now take it back.”
“Take…” It was hard to speak. “Take what back?”
“You said my car was no good for making out.”
“Oh…ah…”
“Still think it sucks?”
But then she felt him smiling against her mouth. That smile was so intimate, coming from someone so stern and strong, she felt it all the way to her heart. My private bodyguard smile. She wanted to smile back, but she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open.
The coat she wore like a cape was still mostly around her, but without taking his smile away from her lips, she felt Graham very deliberately lift the edge of the coat and peel it away, laying it open. Her blue dress covered her up to the base of her throat, yet she felt so exposed, wildly aware that his hand had let go of the coat. She could hardly stand the anticipation. Where was his hand? Where would he touch her?
His mouth closed over hers again as his whole hand, warm and large, wrapped around her side, just below her breast. She arched her back, hoping his hand would move just a bit higher, but instead he smoothed his way lower, to the soft indent of her waist, over the firm curve of her hip, to the edge of her dress. His hand was warm on her bare thigh as he slid his palm to the back of her leg, then lifted her knee slightly, holding her there a moment, letting his hand warm the sensitive area behind her knee. Oh, she hadn’t known she was sensitive behind her knee. She was dying, melting, completely undone by this man who so very clearly, so very incredibly, knew what he was doing.
He demanded, with a gentle bite on her lower lip, that she pay attention to the kiss again. She tried to focus on his mouth, until his hand lifted from her leg, leaving her skin cool in the air. He was going to touch her body somewhere else, any second…
She was practically lapping up his every kiss when his hand returned to her side, tightening around her ribs as he lifted her, shifted her with that one strong hand so more of her weight was cradled in his other arm. She was aching for his touch, and this time, he slid upward, ruffles slipping under his hand as he brushed the side of her breast, then rested there for a moment.
She made some sort of incoherent sound, and she felt him smile against her lips again, but this time it was more tender than devilish. He whispered something serious against her lips as he firmly ran his thumb over her nipple. She gasped at the sensation. He kissed her hard again and cupped her entire breast, shaping the softness to fill his hand.
“Graham—please—” Words were hard, so hard when her body was ruling her mind. “You have protection for us.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. It was time.
Graham devoured her, working his w
ay to the soft spot below her ear. “We can take this all the way to the end.” She wasn’t sure if that was a question, either, when the answer was obvious. She was putty in his hands, writhing with want under his touch. She wanted to make love to him, she wanted to be part of him, with an intensity that overwhelmed every other thought.
He slid his hand with a sure touch down her side, her hip, her thigh, and then under the hem of her dress. The back of his hand grazed up her inner thigh, then over her most sensitive spot, knuckles smoothing over the slippery nylon of her underwear.
She was not going to last. There was no way she could wait for him if he kept touching her there. She would climax—then his thumb pressed over just the right spot, drawing deliberate circles over the smooth fabric, and she realized that was exactly what he wanted her to do. The firm pressure of his thumb became the firmer pressure of his hand, and she was lost, the burst of pleasure blotting out the world.
Chapter Seven
His heart hurt.
It shouldn’t.
A beautiful woman was draped across Graham’s lap, her legs smooth and shapely, stretched across the width of his front seats, her feet hidden in cowgirl boots. A beautiful, satisfied cowgirl, whom he’d just sent over the edge with the weight of his hand on her feminine, incredible, absolutely spectacular body. She was panting gently, eyes closed, coming down from her high, coming back to this moment.
Coming back to him.
Why did that make his heart hurt?
Of course his body hurt. His hands, his mouth, his eyes had all been roaming over the richness that was Emily, getting their fill of her shape, her taste, her beauty. Their greed caused an arousal so complete, even his shirt felt like too much on his skin. The unforgiving denim of his jeans caused outright pain. Every part of his body wanted to be in contact with every part of hers. But while he watched Emily catch her breath, his heart was pounding with more than just sexual desire.
This is special. This is different.
It couldn’t be. He wasn’t ready for that.
He’d never be ready for that. His life had veered too far from that, too long ago. But Emily sure as hell was no last cigarette. She wasn’t just a woman, or the first woman he’d had in ages, or the last woman he’d have for a long while.
Emily was a whole new addiction.
She was holding on to a fistful of his shirt. He watched her fingers relax, and then with a shivery breath, she opened her eyes and blinked at him, slow and sleepy, as the moonlight poured in through the windshield.
She smiled.
This one. She’s the one.
He rejected the thought harshly. But damn, she was special. He looked away, down that river of blue ruffles.
She slipped her fingers under his shirtsleeve, traveling a little way from his wrist to the crease of his elbow, making the rest of his skin jealous of that little piece of his arm.
“You’re still totally dressed,” she said.
“So are you.”
“I am?” Her laugh was languid, lazy. “I am. How is that even possible? I don’t feel dressed. I feel like I’ve been…uncovered.”
His heart, it hurt.
She slipped her hand down his wrist and slid her fingers between his, holding his hand as she turned thoughtful, a little serious, frowning slightly. “I feel a little exposed. I should be blushing.”
“You weren’t, and you shouldn’t.”
She held on to his shoulder to pull herself upright, so she was sitting sideways on his lap. “I shouldn’t?”
Graham started to shake his head, but Emily’s frown was already giving way to another smile. It started small, coy, but quickly turned into a laugh, all joy.
“Then I won’t.” She leaned forward, just to touch noses with him. “I can’t wait to do that again. Let’s be naked this time.”
Hell, yeah. All the blood in his body went south, leaving his brain empty, just empty. Graham thunked his head back on the headrest.
She began placing little kisses along his jaw. He regained enough brainpower to comprehend that much. She put both hands on his shoulders as she got to her knees, dragging one knee across his lap, grazing his aching hardness, so that she was straddling him as she knelt over him in the driver’s seat, pressed close to him by the steering wheel at her back. Her long hair fell forward to brush his face as she bent over him, kissing, kissing.
“Emily.” He tried to say it firmly. It came out as a growl.
Her hands slipped between them. The awkward angle didn’t prevent her from unbuckling his belt and the top button of his jeans. The relief that the extra room gave his body was short-lived, because her hands brushing so near drove his hardness to its limit. He grabbed her wrists. “Emily. Stop.”
She rocked her body against his. He closed his eyes against the bright flare of pleasure. She would be heaven in bed. Bright heaven.
“Stop, sweetheart.” He was murmuring the words like a lover, between the kisses he was returning. He let go of her wrists and slid his fingers between hers, holding both of her hands. “Hey. Slow down a moment, beautiful.” Not effective, either.
Emily will be hurt when you leave her behind, hurt worse than any bar fight.
That grim reality put the right tone in his voice. “We need to stop now.”
She sat back just a few inches to see his face better. He liked the way she looked him in the eye, even when she was confused. Of course he liked it. He liked every single thing about this woman.
“Why?” she said, a gently spoken word, a simple curiosity.
Because if I have you once, I’ll never stop craving you.
No—this was about her, not about him, but damn, that thought had been too clear.
“Because I’m leaving, remember? I have to leave.” He could see it in her eyes when his words started to penetrate.
“But…you’re passing through. You could stay a few days first? The weekend?”
A sex-drenched weekend, just Emily on the white sheets of a hotel bed. The image must have been in her mind as well, for she leaned into him, slid up the hard length of him, and whispered in his ear. “Stay the weekend.”
He forced his brain to keep functioning when his body wanted to shut it down. It was a learned skill, one taught from the first day in the military, how to overrule physical needs, how to complete a mission while the body clamored for essentials like food and sleep. Sex with Emily felt like just such an essential. He overruled his body now, no matter how tempting it was to just shut off his brain and let his body have what it needed. Emily would satisfy him, Emily wanted to satisfy him and herself, too, but he remembered who he was, where he’d been, where he was going. He didn’t belong with joy and beauty.
He held her still with one hand on her hip, warm under the coat. The other hand he used to cup her face, so they were looking eye to eye and he had her full attention. “I’ll be gone at dawn.”
That stilled her in a way his hands could not.
“I’m sorry, Emily. Sorrier than I can say.” He’d killed the last trace of her smile. “This was supposed to be just a kiss at your old make-out spot. A fun little dare when you said the front seat wouldn’t work.”
“Or the back seat.” She dropped her gaze to his chest, so he saw only her lashes.
“Or the back seat. It’s a kiss that got out of control. I went too far, too fast, but I’ve got to put the brakes on. I can’t—I can’t be your lover and stay.”
She looked so sad with her eyes downcast like that, as if he was rejecting her, when he was actually refusing to treat her as no more than a casual lay.
“Look at me, Emily. I can’t be your lover and stay, and I can’t be your lover and leave, either. I’m not going to have sex with you while a steering wheel’s at your back and then just drop you off in a bar parking lot and driv
e away. I won’t do that.”
“Just a kiss,” she repeated, stuck at the beginning of his explanation.
He hoped the rest of his words would stick with her, too. He hoped she’d see that she was more special to him than a kiss or a dare.
“Look, I need to cool off,” she said. “So, I’ll just—um—”
She tried to get off his lap, but that straddle position that she’d settled into with such confidence now made for awkward movements. The bucket seat that had felt like such bliss was too tight for the two of them to get untangled with any grace. Emily reached behind her right hip, groping for the door’s handle, until it opened and a rush of warm air escaped. She escaped, too. Or rather, she climbed off him and jumped the step to the ground, grabbing at his coat to keep it around her shoulders, grabbing at her hem to tug her dress back into place.
He followed before she could shut the door. Out in the cold, he rebuttoned his jeans, rebuckled his belt angrily, mad at himself for how far he’d let things go. He stood beside her, letting the air do what it could to chill their passion.
“I’m just going to go for a little walk and check out the pond.” Emily pulled his coat more tightly around herself and gave him a brave little laugh. “It’s kind of been a theme tonight.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
She shied away from him, just a little duck of her chin and a turn of a colder shoulder. He felt it. He deserved it. She was hurt that he’d turned her down, but tomorrow would come, and Emily had a whole lot of tomorrows ahead of her. For all of those tomorrows, she’d be glad that she wouldn’t look back on this night and feel like she’d been used by a guy who’d only stopped in her town for a drink.
“Do you have another coat for yourself?” she asked.
She was going to let him walk with her, then. He was glad. Grateful, even. In silence, she followed him to the back of the SUV. He lifted the rear door to the cargo area. In the harsh white of the interior LED lights, he pushed aside the tumbled new bedding and the towels with their price tags still attached, no longer a neatly folded stack after their jolting cross-country drive. His two Marine Corps seabags were still lined up and tied down, exactly as he’d loaded them back in Chicago. The silence was going on too long; when he opened the metal clasp at the top of one olive drab bag, it sounded loud.
Lost in Cottonwood Canyon & How to Train a Cowboy--Lost in Cottonwood Canyon Page 30