Opposing the Cowboy

by Margo Bond Collins

  Paying her to do a job that she might have had to do anyway, if the Natural Shale lawyers had stepped in.

  Was he right? Could this work—this thing between them that they had never mentioned, but that she was certain they both felt? Could she come to terms with what he did for a living? Or did their differences outweigh their similarities?

  Does it really matter, given how much I want him?

  At the moment, Jonah was bending over as he took another picture to send to his librarian friend. LeeAnn couldn’t take her eyes off him. When he turned to say something to her, he caught her staring at him.

  For once, she didn’t glance away, though she could feel her cheeks heating up as he regarded her steadily.

  Jonah didn’t break eye contact, either. Instead, he took a purposeful stride toward her, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Stopping in front of her, he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to take it as an invitation,” he said quietly.

  “Maybe you should,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes briefly.

  Was that the wrong thing to say?

  She had enough time to begin worrying when he spoke again, relieving her anxiety.

  “Tell you what. I’m going to go downstairs and take a shower.” His voice sounded deep and strained, and his gaze was hot on her mouth. “You take a minute to be sure.” He took her chin in his hand and grazed his mouth across hers. “And if you’re absolutely certain, you can join me there.”

  He took a step back, and then, with a scorching glance back at her, he headed down the stairs.

  LeeAnn hesitated outside the bathroom door.

  If she opened it, there would be no turning back.

  Could she take what he had to offer—everything his kisses had promised—knowing that it was only temporary?

  Then again, life was only temporary, nothing permanent enough to count on forever.

  Darrell Dumbass Liar Vincent had taught her that.

  Right?

  The memory of Sami telling her she didn’t trust anyone twisted in her chest. Had she really chosen Darrell because she knew, on some level, that he would hurt her?

  Am I doing it again?

  She shoved the thought away. Anyway, it didn’t matter. If everything was temporary, she might as well take what she could, while she could. Closing her eyes, she used a few deep breaths to calm her mind.

  This time, she would let her body take the lead.

  She opened the door and stepped inside.

  …

  A smile flitted across Jonah’s face when he heard the door begin to open, but by the time LeeAnn moved into the small space, his face was solemn. Her gray eyes were wide, and she very carefully looked at nothing but his eyes, even though he hadn’t taken off anything other than his shirt. He leaned back against the sink, his hands propping him up as he waited to see what she would do next.

  “Hey,” she finally said, her voice low.

  “Hey,” he replied, matching her tone. “Are you planning to wear that in the shower?” he asked, nodding toward her dusty clothes.

  Without a word, she drew her T-shirt up over her head and tossed it in a corner, then stepped out of her jeans. There was nothing overtly seductive about the moves—they were straightforward and direct, like LeeAnn herself, and they made his heart stutter in his chest. She paused, standing in her lacy bra and panties, her eyes and mouth serious. Jonah remained perfectly still, afraid that she would bolt if he moved too quickly.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, drinking in every inch of her long, lean, tight body.

  Blinking a little, she glanced down at the scraps of lace that barely covered her, a blush heating her cheeks and a rueful smile hovering around her lips. “I know they’re not very practical—not for yoga or the ranch.”

  Yet she had worn them, and like everything about her, her lacy undergarments told a story—this one of a woman with a secret femininity, hidden under the concealing outfits of both the yogi and the cowgirl.

  It was, he suspected, a side of herself that she didn’t often share with others.

  Every cell of him strained toward her, demanding that he sweep her up into his arms and claim her lips—bury himself in her—but his instincts warned him that he needed to take this slowly, even as he hardened at the sight of her.

  He reached out and used one finger to tilt her chin up again. “Don’t apologize.” He took a half step toward her, his gentle touch turning into a caress up the side of her neck and onto her cheek. She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes briefly.

  “Anyway,” he said, his voice turning husky with desire, “I was talking about you…not what you’re wearing.”

  Holding his gaze with her own, she reached back and unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms. A small whoosh of breath escaped him at the sight of her perfectly formed breasts, and her nipples tightened under his hot look. They bounced slightly as she pushed her panties down to join the rest of the pile of clothing, and again when she pulled her ponytail down and shook her hair out.

  “Your turn,” she said, glancing at the jeans he still wore.

  One corner of his mouth crooking up into a grin, he took the other half step toward her, closing the space between them so that barely an inch of air separated their bodies. Heat poured off her skin, surrounding him in the smell of her—sweet sunshine and spring breeze, and a hint of vanilla, even through the faint dusty overlay of the time she’d spent in the attic.

  When he reached down to unbutton his jeans, his knuckles grazed her abdomen, which quivered in response. Holding her gaze, he slid the jeans and boxers down, then reached out and pulled the shower curtain aside as he stepped out of the pants.

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  Moving slowly, LeeAnn stepped over the high side of the claw-foot tub and knelt to turn on the water. As she stood up, her gaze flicked down at him, and her eyes widened a bit as she saw the effect her every move had on him.

  When she switched over to the shower, warm water sluiced across her shoulders and down across those perfect breasts. She reached for a bottle of shampoo, but he stopped her. “Let me,” he said in a voice rough with desire.

  Pouring a dollop into his palm, he smoothed it across her dampened hair, then rubbed his fingers into her scalp. She closed her eyes as he pooled her hair into his hand, allowing the water to wash away the suds.

  She reached up to help him, but he pushed her arm back down. “Wait,” he whispered. He pulled her toward him a bit so she stepped out of the direct line of the spray. A fine mist drifted across them both.

  A bottle of body wash stood on the tiny shelf next to the shampoo, so he picked it up and poured a small amount directly onto her collarbone. She gasped aloud when his fingers followed, brushing the slick soap up her neck and then down into her cleavage, never touching the sensitive buds straining toward him. Then he knelt, rubbing across her belly and down her legs, ending with her toes.

  “Turn around,” he said quietly.

  Her breath quickened as she followed his command.

  With another handful of body wash, he moved up her legs, brushing gently across her ass, then smoothing his hands across her back. Stepping up close behind her, he let his chest brush up against her back and ran his cheek against her neck while he reached around to cup her breasts. She arched up against him, standing on her toes until his cock rested in the hollow between her ass cheeks. When she moved back down to her heels, the soap he had applied all over her hot, tight body slicked against him. With a moan, he lightly pinched the tight buds and was rewarded with a gasp and another slide up and down, from the small of her back to the top of her ass, then returning to her back.

  The next time she drew up onto her toes, he slid one hand down the front of her body and pulled her back against him, both palms splayed out to hold her in place—one directly in between her breasts, the other slightly above her pelvis. She pushed herself against
him even harder, sliding side to side sinuously in his hands. He reached down until the tip of his middle finger barely pressed against her clit, and she whimpered. The sound went straight through him—he didn’t think it was possible to get any harder than he already was, but he’d been wrong.

  Sliding one leg between hers, Jonah moved them both forward into the water spray. With her weight resting on his thigh, he was able to slip his hand lower, circling her clit with his thumb while he slipped his finger down lower. For an instant, he couldn’t tell if the warm wetness against his fingers was her or the water, but then his finger slipped inside her, and there was no doubt—it was all beautifully, gloriously LeeAnn. She cried out softly and arched against him, trying to touch the ground with her toes to slide up and down again, but he held her in place. “Be still,” he whispered against her ear.

  LeeAnn whimpered, but stopped moving. Gently, he used the leg she rested on to rock her back and forth. Every forward motion brought her clit up against his thumb as it circled, while his finger slipped deep inside her. Every backward motion brought her back against his hard cock, and he flicked his other fingers across her breasts, the taut buds growing ever tighter under his touch.

  Warm water slid down their bodies, adding to the slip of skin against skin. LeeAnn’s breath grew harsh, and she threw her head back. Jonah licked the exposed side of her neck, then sank his teeth lightly into her shoulder, increasing the tempo of his finger sliding in and out of her hot wetness. She matched his rhythm, slapping herself down against him until suddenly she convulsed around him, crying out as he pulled her closer.

  …

  LeeAnn came back to herself slowly, as Jonah slipped his finger out of her and slid her down his leg to stand on her own—admittedly shaky—legs.

  “My turn,” she said, flashing a wicked grin in his direction. For a moment, though, she stood still, distracted by the glorious body in front of her.

  He was absolutely magnificent.

  His blue-black hair glinted under the water. He took up most of the space in her tiny bathroom, all but filling up the old claw-foot bathtub. And what space he didn’t take up physically was somehow still filled by his presence.

  She couldn’t stop herself from running her palm across the dusting of dark hair on his broad chest, then following it with her finger down his stomach. He shivered at her touch, and she smiled again.

  “Yeah, definitely my turn,” she repeated, soaping up her hands and sliding them across his shoulders, then down his arms. His biceps twitched as she moved back over them. She followed his lead, soaping up every part of him other than that one part that she knew—could see—was aching to be touched.

  “Be still,” she whispered when he tried to take her in his arms. The strain of it showed in his clenched jaw, but he nodded.

  When she finally knelt in front of him to take him into her hands, he groaned. And when she began circling around the head of his cock with her thumb, his knees shook, and finally he took her shoulders and pulled her up, crushing her to his chest as his mouth claimed hers. His tongue swiped across her lips, and she opened herself to him.

  “Wait,” she said, pulling back after a long moment. She leaned out of the shower and balanced one arm on the sink, reaching into the medicine cabinet above. Foil packet in hand, she knelt again, reveling in the feel of his muscles jumping under the fingers she trailed down his chest and thigh. Without taking her gaze away from his, she unrolled the condom down over him.

  With a sudden, rough motion, Jonah pulled her up against him, lifting and turning so her back was against the tile wall. She stepped up onto the edge of the tub, balancing lightly, giving him access to ever more of herself. Wrapping one leg around his waist and both arms around his neck, she waited until she felt his hand guiding his cock to her slick opening.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “God, yes,” he groaned.

  “Hold on to me.” As his grip on her tightened, she slowly lifted her other leg so that it rested over his shoulder, even as she slid down on him, taking in every last amazing inch. When she was settled against the base of his cock, she stared into his eyes.

  “Don’t move,” she said. Taking his utter stillness as her answer, she began to pull herself up and down, using her own strength against his solid mass to move, dancing against him, over him, around him, taking him in as deep as she could, then raising up so that only the barest tip remained inside her. With every stroke, he grew harder and thicker, his breath harsh against her. The warm water sluiced across them.

  After a moment, he reached out to steady himself against the wall, his arms shaking with the effort of holding still.

  “Now,” she said, dropping herself onto him and leaning her head back against the tile, “move.”

  The power in his first thrust took her breath away as he slammed into her. She met him stroke for stroke, the pressure building again inside her. He dropped one hand to cradle her ass—protecting her from the hard tiles even as he pounded into her, and this realization sent her tumbling over the edge, pleasure throbbing throughout her entire body as she shuddered, calling out his name.

  At the sound of her hoarse scream, Jonah’s movements became almost frenzied until he, too, pulsed and came, muffling his own cry in the crook of her neck.

  They grasped one another tightly for another moment, and then Jonah gently withdrew. LeeAnn took the opportunity to unwind her legs from around him, sliding gracefully down until she stood flat-footed on the bottom of the tub.

  “Holy shit, you’re flexible,” Jonah muttered, and she laughed out loud.

  She ducked under the water for a moment, then stepped out of the tub entirely, wrapping a towel around her and gathering up her dusty clothes from the bathroom floor. As she opened the bathroom door, she shot him a grin over her shoulder. “Yeah? Wait until you see what I can do upside down.”

  Laughing again, this time at the audible hitch in his breath at her comment, she stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the bedroom whenever you’re ready, Superman.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Wow.” The word whooshed out as LeeAnn collapsed on top of him, a sentiment Jonah fully agreed with. When she nuzzled his neck, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so they were face-to-face.

  She smiled slightly, drawing in breath to speak. Watching her eyelids flutter, Jonah waited for some commentary on how good they were together.

  Because that was incredible.

  Instead, LeeAnn said, “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

  A crack of laughter shot out of him, and he pulled her closer. “You are amazing,” he said. “I never know what to expect.”

  “Whatever, Hamilton.” A grin crooked up one corner of her mouth. “Are you hungry? ’Cause I want ice cream.”

  “You have any here?” He folded his arms behind his head.

  “I’ll go get it.” She slid out of bed, and he marveled again at how beautiful she was—every inch of her—long and muscled and toned, hiding a softness inside that had surprised him and drawn him to her.

  Jonah smiled at the sway in LeeAnn’s hips as she left the room, fairly certain that the extra motion was meant to grab his attention.

  It worked.

  Maybe he could convince her that another shower session was in order.

  Rolling over, Jonah stared out the window closest to him. The view stretched all the way back to the corner of the ranch where he had fixed the fence.

  Dishes clanked in the kitchen, and he smiled again. In fact, he was pretty certain he might never quit smiling. Practically every waking moment found him thinking of her—and now he didn’t have to fight it any longer.

  I can tell Natural Shale that we didn’t find anything, she can turn down their offer again, and I can move to my next assignment.

  As his gaze drifted around the room, it caught on a small pile of papers on the bedside table.

  They looked like something from the attic.

  Were they? An
d if so, why hadn’t she shown them to him?

  Sitting up, he reached out and snagged the stack from their spot beside the lamp. He fanned out the documents in his hand, and as he did, a piece of yellowed paper fluttered down to the quilt covering his legs.

  As it floated down to the floor, he saw two words, seemingly highlighted by the sunbeam shining through the window.

  …drilling rights…

  Time froze, and so did Jonah. This was the information he’d been looking for.

  Was there a reason LeeAnn had put this in her bedroom—the one place he had seemed least likely to end up? Would she hide the truth from him?

  Possibly. If it meant saving her ranch from the evil oil and gas company she hated so much.

  Without taking his eyes off those two potentially damning words, he scooped up the paper and angled the letter to better read the faded ink and spiked handwriting. It was dated 1989, addressed to LeeAnn’s mother. Skimming down the page, he reached the words he had seen as the paper drifted by on its way to the floor.

  As for the inheritance: I know you are concerned about the latest request from Belton Oil to drill on the land. Rest assured, I won’t sell them the drilling rights. I didn’t know they were mine until I got your letter, but Grandfather’s legacy will remain untouched. In fact, I will transfer the rights to my daughters next week—I want them to have as much of a stake in the land as we do.

  He flipped it over, searching for a signature, but the letter ended mid-paragraph. Hurriedly, he shuffled through the remaining papers.

  Nothing.

  Still, “Grandfather’s legacy”? That suggested LeeAnn’s uncle George, and backed up the letter the Natural Shale lawyers already held.

  Mentally, he ran through the genealogical information he had unearthed at the courthouse. If the mineral rights had gone to George, then the daughters in the letter would be LeeAnn’s cousins Sami and Beverly.

  In any case, this was more evidence that the rights didn’t belong to LeeAnn.