Cowboy Games

by Wendi Darlin

  Water coated her shoulders, her face. He couldn’t move at first, unsure what his actions would be. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his hands, his mouth, push himself so far inside her he could feel her soul. Her skin glowed in the moonlight rosier across her chest and on her breasts, only slightly darker than her nipples. She was there for the taking, and yet he couldn’t have her, couldn’t touch her, not until she made it clear she wanted him to, not until she understood he couldn’t play the game with her because he’d never hungered so bad for a woman before.

  As if reading his mind, she reached for his hand and brought it down to her breast. She didn’t say a word, and her eyes never left him while her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and slowly quieted. He leaned over her and took her mouth in his. He forced himself to take it slow, to drink in the taste of her, the feel of her.

  She reached between his legs and squeezed leaving a dark wet print of her hand on the denim of his jeans. He could have exploded right then and there. She rose up on her knees and pressed both breasts into his hands.

  “Are you going to show me what sex for the hell of it is?” Her tongue traced his ear. Her voice was breathy, trembling slightly, shaky from physical satisfaction or fear, he wasn’t sure which.

  “I can’t do that.” He barely recognized his own voice. It trembled more than hers.

  “Too bad,” she said and pushed herself out of the water. She reached around him for her towel and in a second she was walking away. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back pressing her to him in a kiss he hoped would convey how deep his feelings ran. How he couldn’t show her sex for the hell of it, because he couldn’t invest that little in her. He couldn’t need somebody for the hell of it, and he needed her.

  Rebecca was the one who broke the embrace. She reached up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. Her hand trembled. “I don’t like this game,” she said so softly he could barely make out the words. “It’s too real for me.”

  “Rebecca,” he breathed her name and reached for her, but she moved away from him, picked her robe off a hook on the wall and walked away. He didn’t know which way to decipher what she meant. His mind was so rattled he probably couldn’t remember his own name and there wasn’t an ounce of blood left in his brain. She rounded the barn before he started after her.

  “Gavin!” Garrett’s voice shot down from the loft and stopped him in his tracks.

  “What are you doing up there?” Every ounce of testosterone in him coiled, ready to spring. His protective instinct spooled to think someone else, even Garrett, had seen Rebecca so vulnerable and exposed. She was his, or she should be, and he wasn’t about to share her with anybody.

  “I just got here,” Garrett said coolly. “What are you doing?”

  Gavin pushed his fingers through his hair and exhaled. “What do you expect me to do?”

  Garrett leaned on his elbow, looked down at him, and said, “Play the game.”

  “It’s not a fucking game! And the reason I’m not making love to her right now has nothing to do with this ranch or anything else you think it should. Sue me. Put me in jail. I don’t give a damn anymore.”

  Gavin took the deck in three strides, and jumped to the ground not bothering with the steps. If he went straight to her room nothing would stop him from taking her to bed unless she did. Then they’d be right back to where they started. He’d have a hell of a night and probably never see her again. She wasn’t ready to face her feelings for him. He had accused her of pretending, but that caged look in her eye after the first time they kissed held real fear. Fear he couldn’t comprehend, but fear that existed nonetheless.

  Her responses to his touch and his kisses made him believe she knew exactly what he was feeling, and he wasn’t the only one feeling it. And that’s why he couldn’t leave her alone, why he couldn’t just walk away and let her tragedy cripple what could be their only chance to see where this undeniable attraction would take them.

  He slowed his pace. If she wasn’t ready to follow where those feelings would lead, she would run away thinking he was the biggest asshole in the world. And if he took advantage of her, she’d be right thinking that. For all her modern sensibilities and frankness with sex, she was an old-fashioned girl at heart. A woman who loved hard and forever. The exact opposite of his ex-wife. He couldn’t screw this up. He wouldn’t screw this up.

  * * * *

  Marge shivered as a breeze whipped through the porch of her cabin. “To friendship,” she said, raising her glass to Clayton’s. Their stemware glinted in the moonlight, but the merlot in the glasses was dark as blood. Thicker than water she told herself. Her loyalties didn’t belong to this beautiful young man sitting next to her. Chet was family, and she’d agreed to come out to Wyoming for the sole purpose of doing a job for him.

  “Friendship and self-respect,” Clayton said, kissing his glass to hers.

  She gulped the wine in hopes it would help her swallow some of the guilt that rose in her throat.

  “Uh oh,” Clayton said, sitting back in his rocker and pointing toward Rebecca as she ran to her cabin dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. “More trouble in paradise.”

  “Gavin’s probably not far behind.” Marge swallowed the last of her wine and reached for the bottle standing on the rail in front of them. She was going to need all the help she could get to convince Clayton to come inside her cabin.

  “I should go,” he said, standing. “If Gavin is behind her, I don’t think he’s going to be in the mood to see me here this late.”

  He opened the door for Marge, and held it while she stepped inside. “Thanks,” he said, handing her his glass. “We’ll get back to the business of whipping together the new you first thing in the morning.”

  Over his shoulder, Marge saw Gavin come around the barn. “Get in here,” she said, grabbing Clayton by the arm and shutting the door behind him. Through the window they watched as Gavin shoved his hands through his hair and strode toward the cabins.

  “Drink up, girlfriend,” Clayton whispered. “We’re about to see fireworks.”

  * * * *

  Rebecca toweled off and pulled Gavin’s sweatshirt over her head. She was trembling and could still feel the heat of his hands on her breasts, the way her wet skin had slipped in his grasp. Thank God he hadn’t followed her. Wouldn’t a man who wanted her as much as he said he did have chased her down? One more kiss and she would have given him every piece of her. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. She’d regret it in the morning, but at least she would have him tonight. One night would be too much. Or not enough. Too much. Definitely. Too. Much.

  She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stay in the cabin. She just needed to move. She slipped on her jeans and headed out. The damp grass was cold beneath her feet and the night air blew through her wet hair sending a chill down her spine.

  She didn’t have a destination, only the need to move. She walked past the barn and the corral toward a long narrow building seated low on the first hill that rolled down from the big house. The closer she got, the clearer the voices became, men’s voices loud and laughing.

  At one end of the building two figures moved together. The taller one dropped to his knees and his head disappeared into the shadow of the other’s body. She turned around. Gavin stood less than two feet away. She didn’t know he’d been following her, the soft ground absorbing his steps, the wind covering his breath, but there he stood. Obviously still unsettled and as unable to go to bed and forget as she was.

  “Are they all gay?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Are you?”

  He cocked his head waiting for her to answer the question herself.

  “Not even a little bit?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “And I turn you on?”

  “You do more than turn me on.” The catch in his voice made him very easy to believe. “A hell of a lot more than that.”

  She crossed her arms and brushed the softness
of his old sweatshirt with her palms. She tried not to read into his words. He could be saying she pissed him off. He could be saying he had real feelings for her. He could be saying a lot of things. He was right about her. No matter what he said, she wouldn’t believe him. She wouldn’t let herself believe him.

  He reached for her elbow and pulled her closer. Her knees almost buckled as the heat rose between her legs again. She didn’t care anymore if she could believe him. She just had to have him. One night. If that was all she could have him for, she’d take it. No one had ever died from a one-night stand before. She wouldn’t be the first.

  She wound her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his. He responded with a hunger that shot straight through her. His hands moved from her hips, slid beneath the sweatshirt she wore. Waves of heat rolled through her as his palms slowly passed over each rib until they pressed against the sides of her breasts.

  She kissed him deeper, opening her mouth to take more of him, moving her tongue with his. Why should anybody resist this? How bad would it be if she just gave in, let her heart feel what it wanted to feel. What made her think she’d meet another man that she’d want half as much? She could deal with the consequences tomorrow. On her flight back to South Carolina. Cry through a box of tissues. Battle the tears at home. She’d beaten them before.

  He cupped her breasts rubbing his thumbs across her nipples, hard and alive. She pressed the front of her jeans against his, grabbed his ass, and pulled him to her. His desire was as obvious as it had been at the hot tub. His hips responded, pushing harder. His mouth fell to her neck and she gasped as he held her to him. His breath was unsteady, labored.

  “I want you,” he breathed. “My God, I want you.”

  “I want the real you,” she said, fighting to find her voice. “Not the fantasy. Not anything I'm paying for. I want the man I think you are.” She swallowed her pride. “But I’m willing to take whatever I can get.”

  “This is me.” He took her head in his hands and leveled his eyes with hers. His pupils were dark, rimmed with the slimmest line the color of the pasture grass. “This is who I am. And I really am crazy about you.”

  “How do I know that?” she whispered. “You’re supposed to tell me everything I want to hear.”

  “I’ll find a way to prove it,” he said, blowing a heavy breath between them. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her again, slower this time. He took his time, drawing her into him, unhurried and passionate in a way that held promises of what making love with him could be like. Just as slowly, he pulled away. “I will prove it to you,” he said.

  She trembled at what that could mean and reached for him again, but he held her back.

  “In the hot tub.” His chest rose and fell beneath his shirt and if he did half as much to her as his eyes said he wanted to, the consequences would be worth every minute of it. “Were you thinking about me?”

  “Yeah.” She stepped back but didn’t look away. “I was thinking about you.”

  “Did he enter your mind at all?”

  “There wasn’t room for the both of you.” She squeezed her arms tighter, hugging herself. The truth of what she said didn’t bother her as much as it should have. It didn’t come without pain though, and she hoped he couldn’t see the pools blurring her eyes.

  He held her as they crossed the property. At the door to her cabin he kissed her again. Brief tender kisses they could both walk away from, but as soon as one ended another began. Rebecca backed toward the door.

  He traced the line of her jaw and pressed his thumb to her lips, then moved his thumb and pressed his lips once more to hers. Before he could pull away again, she kissed him the way she wanted to. His response was everything she hoped it would be and every ounce of her defense fell again.

  “I’ll go now,” he said, still kissing her.

  “I don’t want you to.” Her words were barely louder than her breath. Almost without doubt she didn’t give a damn how real anything was beyond the feel of his skin and the way he lit her body on fire. There was that one stubborn part of her though. That damned teeny tiny part determined to dig its heels in and scream. That was the part she’d have to live with after the night was over.

  He reached behind her and closed the door, then backed her against it. His kiss revived their earlier passion. She slid her hands beneath his shirt, around to the smooth muscles of his back and pulled him to her.

  “Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure?” His breath was coming as fast as hers.

  “Yes.” An unexpected tear fell from her eye. He wiped it away. His brow creased and he kissed her again. Slowly. Tenderly. The tears rolling down her cheeks wet them both. He buried his lips in her hair.

  “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with this. Or with us.”

  She sobbed and hid her face in his shoulder. He relaxed against her. His hands moved across her back, reassuring her.

  “I know.” She pulled back so she could see his eyes. “I want you to stay.”

  He blew another heavy breath, dried her face with his hands and kissed her forehead. She could tell he was giving her a chance to back out, not wanting to push her for what he wanted if she didn’t want it as much. Another reason he was the man to make this mistake with. Because as good as it would feel, it was a mistake. She had no doubt about that.

  “What if you just spent the night?” She didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want to spend another night wishing she was in his arms. “What if we didn’t take things any further than we already have?”

  “That wouldn’t happen.” His hands slipped beneath her shirt, raising it above her breasts. He lowered his head, taking first one nipple and then the other with his well-versed tongue, proving his point beyond a doubt.

  “Why do you always have to be right?” She leaned into him, loving the way he made every cell in her body dance, and knowing she wanted nothing more than to do the same thing for him. “And how can you turn me down?”

  He lowered her shirt, but eased his hands beneath it, holding her breasts. “I don’t ever want to be a regret,” he said, his voice low, his eyes focused on hers. “Not with you.”

  “You’d be the best mistake I ever made.” Her words poured into the shallow space between them.

  “I’m going home now.” He brought his hands down to her hips and rested his forehead against the door. “I’m going to try and fail miserably to sleep, and I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  “Sweet dreams,” she said, her lips on his neck.

  He squeezed her hips, sending another wave of sweet agony through her. “I really have to leave now.” He released her and walked away. She watched him go and trembled again in the cold night air.

  * * * *

  Marge released a long, slow breath as Gavin stepped off Rebecca’s porch. Next to her, Clayton let out a low chuckle.

  “Damn.” Clayton’s voice was barely more than a whisper crossing the shadows between them.

  Marge’s blood pulsed hotter than she’d ever felt it. Old, Fat and Harry had never made her as weak as the kisses she’d just witnessed. No man had ever made her knees want to buckle with need or torched her chest with such heat. “I think…” She paused to gather her voice. “I like you, but I think I was robbed. Did she pay extra for that?”

  Clayton frowned. “I don’t think that’s something you can pay for. It’s definitely not anything we sell around here.” He patted her arm, and set his glass on the table next to the window. “I need to go.”

  Marge bit her lip and tried to calm her racing heart. “Stay,” she said. “Please.”

  * * * *

  Gavin left his boots in the mudroom and walked through the kitchen. Garrett glanced over his shoulder but kept rinsing his wine glass in the sink as Gavin pulled a beer from the refrigerator and twisted the top off.

  “We’ve got to talk about this,” Garrett said.

  “I’d sti
ll be there if anything happened.” He opened the trash compactor and tossed the bottle top in.

  “Maybe I was wrong about her leaving.” Garrett dried the glass and set it on the counter. “Does she care as much for you as you do for her?”

  “I don’t know.” He raised the bottle to his lips. He’d been wrong about her leaving too. There was no way in hell he was letting her get on a plane any sooner than she had to. “She feels something.”

  “Her brother-in-law said she came out here looking for a blow-up doll. Her words, according to him.” Garrett folded the dishtowel into a perfect rectangle. Worry creased his brow.

  “I’m sure she did,” Gavin said, taking another drink. For the first day and a half he had been content to be just that.

  “And you think she wants something different now?”

  “She knows I’m not her husband, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Gavin rubbed the tension from the back of his neck and raised his eyes to the exposed ceiling beams. “And I’m not going to let her do anything before she’s ready.”

  “She looked ready to me.” Garrett laughed. “I don’t know how you kept it together as well as you did out there.”

  “She’s not ready,” Gavin said, relaxing a little even as his dick jumped at the memory of her wet body in his hands, her tongue hot against his. “She wants to be, but she’s not.” He sized Garrett up. “What were you doing in the loft anyway?”

  “I needed to think. I’m not sure I’m going to see John after next week.” He smoothed his hand over the back of his hair. “Probably why I’ve been on edge myself.”

  “Is there a number I can reach John at tonight?” Gavin asked. “Probably not the best timing, but I need to ask him for a favor.” Finally his brain was working, fired up with possibilities. At least one possibility and he was going to grab it for everything it was worth. After all, he had something to prove.

  Garrett unclipped the phone on his belt and tossed it to him. “Speed dial one. Go ahead and ask him. I think he and I are on the same page. There aren’t any hard feelings between us.” He lined the dishtowel up next to the sink and stored the glass in a cabinet. “You didn’t turn in yours or Rebecca’s menu requests for the farewell dinner.”