by Anne Marsh
“It’s great,” he said agreeably.
“And I don’t want to have to move.” She rattled the blinds to make her point. “Close. The. Curtains.”
He just grinned at her. “We had sex on a beach, Dixie. It’s a little late to be shy now.”
“I had an orgasm on the beach. There was no naked penis involved.” Wait. That hadn’t come out right.
“I’m mixing things up.” He spread his arms as wide as the cuffs would allow. She probably needed to get a bigger bed. Or a smaller SEAL. “And I’ll give you another orgasm. Three, if you ask me nicely.”
“I’m not in the mood to ask you for anything,” she informed him, inspecting the display on her desk. He’d brought a red plastic sand pail filled with ice and a bottle of very nice champagne. The dozen red roses matched the bucket, although his flower-arranging skills sucked. He’d lined the twelve flowers up in a row.
“You missed a bow on your penis.”
He looked down. “Would that have helped? Because I’m willing to take suggestions.”
She was tired, she was stressed, and he made her feel hopeful. Damn it.
“What are you doing here?”
* * *
“I’M NAKED.” IF SHE hadn’t noticed that, they had bigger problems. Okay. He had bigger problems. He honestly hadn’t considered the open curtains when he’d cuffed himself to Ashley’s bed, but was it really a big deal if her neighbor saw?
“You sure are.” She popped the champagne open in one smooth, practiced move. She didn’t sound impressed—or look at him. This mission was not going to plan.
“You could get naked, too. That’s what married people do. Although you could keep the shoes.” Because he really, really liked those shoes. The heels were four inches of come-fuck-me-pretty-please goodness and the leather might be boring beige but some very sexy straps crisscrossed her instep and wrapped around her ankle. When she’d reached over, he’d spotted little zippers running up her heels. Tugging those zippers down with his teeth had suddenly shot to the top of his fantasy list.
She sat down on the bed, still holding the bottle. The bottom of the bed and a good four feet away from him. On the plus side, she was wearing another one of those suits he liked so much. The skirt hugged her ass and her thighs, stopping just below her knees, and the jacket was buttoned tightly over her breasts. He wasn’t sure what she was wearing underneath it, but he’d really like to find out.
“We’re not married,” she said.
They could fix that. “I’d like to be.”
“Uh-huh.” She lifted the bottle to her mouth and stared at him over the rim. “I put you on my to-do list.” He had no idea what that meant, but apparently it was her cue to drink, because she took a swig of the champagne. “We need to be clear on a few things.”
“Shoot,” he said, which probably wasn’t his smartest comment. Ashley was more than capable of shooting him if she felt like it. He’d spent his first twenty minutes in her condo unloading the various weapons she had stashed around the place. He was all for home security, but he didn’t need her plugging him if she misinterpreted his small rewiring of her home security system.
“One. I can handle my life myself.” She took another swig from the bottle and paused. “My skirt is killing me. I had to get all dressed up for the hearing today.”
“Take it off,” he suggested. It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was thinking it. For Christ’s sake, he was naked. He had no secrets. She shot him a look as if he wasn’t supposed to say those things, but he’d always been honest with her. She set the bottle on the floor and stood up. It got incrementally harder to breath when her fingers went to the buttons on the front of her jacket and slipped the first one free. She hesitated, but her having second thoughts wasn’t part of his plan.
“Got it,” he said gruffly, to distract her. “You can take care of business on your own, but feel free to pass the crap stuff to me.”
“You’re going to do the mental equivalent of taking out the trash for me?” The second button popped free.
“If that’s what you need,” he agreed. She was too far away. He jerked his chin toward the bed beside him. “Come up here.”
She ignored him and shrugged out of her jacket. She had one of those silky little shells underneath, the kind of shirt that looked more like underwear than anything. The suit jacket might be practical navy blue, but her shirt was red. Made him wonder what color her bra was.
“Two, I don’t need a hero.” She stalked closer when she said this, hands on her hips.
“Roger that, but I could damn sure use a heroine like you, if you’ll give me another chance. You got the key handy?”
She sighed and patted her chest. “Tucked it in my bra, sailor.”
“You want to uncuff me? Or come over here and ride me?”
She grinned. “Maybe I’m saving you for Christmas.”
The holiday was months away. “I sure hope you’re the kind of gal who peeks at her presents.”
She made a face, but she came up to the top of the bed and turned around, presenting him with her backside. “Unzip,” she commanded.
“Houston, we have a problem,” he said dryly, rattling his cuffs.
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Use your imagination.”
“We need a new dare,” he said roughly, leaning forward and grabbing the zipper with his teeth. Challenge accepted. One swift tug and her skirt hung loose around her hips. She stepped away and let it fall to the ground with a little shimmy that made him curse his stupid handcuff idea. He’d been trying to make a point about being willing to stick, but now her sweet curves were calling his name and it would take him at least thirty seconds to get the cuffs off without her help.
She stepped out of the skirt, bent over and picked it up. She had an amazing ass—and a killer red thong. He groaned. When she whisked her shirt over her head, he was a goner. Her red satin bra matched her panties. He didn’t see the key, though, and that was a problem.
“If I beg, will you use the key?”
She smiled. Slowly. His Dixie knew exactly what she was doing to him. “If you want to explore your kinky side, all you have to do is ask.”
“Let’s play a game.” He wiggled his hips. “You bring the champagne and sit here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this where I get to interrogate you about why you committed at least one felony and broke into my house?”
“Sure.”
She hesitated, but then she climbed up onto the bed and threw a leg over him. The cuffs wouldn’t allow him to pull her higher, but that didn’t mean he was without options. He curled his lower body up, bumping her into place. She shrieked and champagne splashed on him. “You’re gonna need to clean that up.”
She wriggled, making herself comfortable and him uncomfortable. “Seriously? No. Don’t answer that. Just tell me the rules of the game.”
“The name of the game is Never Have I Ever.” She squirmed and he groaned. This had better be the world’s fastest game or he wasn’t going to last. “It’s simple. I say something I haven’t done. If you’ve done it, you drink.”
Frowning, she eyed the level in the champagne bottle. “You should have bought a bigger bottle.”
“I bought you the good stuff, too. Now shut up and listen, because I’m going first.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he wasn’t kidding. He had something to say and she was going to listen. Bringing his knees up, he nudged her. Just a l
ittle. She landed off balance on his chest, mouth inches from his. Before she could catch her breath, he started.
“Never have I ever... I’ve never fallen in love before.”
She frowned, lifted the bottle to her mouth, and paused. “I’m not sure my grammar’s good enough for this.”
“You been in love before?”
She shoved upright and jammed a finger into his chest. “Who’s interrogating who here? And what does before mean? Before what?”
Maybe this would have been easier if he’d waited until she finished the bottle. “Just drink. You’re spoiling my plan.”
She hesitated—the woman had serious control issues—but then she drank.
“Never have I ever...asked the woman I love to marry me.”
She drank. “I can safely say I’ve never proposed to a woman.”
“Never have I ever not fallen for you.”
She got that cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows again. Then she scooted around on his lap again. “Your grammar’s killing me. I think I need a diagram.”
“I’m trying to be romantic,” he gritted out, because the way she was sliding her red thong—and other things—over his dick had cut off the supply of blood to his brain.
“Huh.” The frown got deeper. “Roses and champagne are a little clichéd, don’t you think? Plus I’m not sure felony burglary really endears you to me. What if I hadn’t figured out it was you?”
“You didn’t answer the last question,” he pointed out. “You have to confess—or drink. Do you love me? I gotta be perfectly honest about one thing, babe.”
She glared at him. Shit. Was she teary-eyed? “If you change your mind after saying all that stuff, I will kill you.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you since you kissed the hell out of me in that alley behind the Best Ride. I know you weren’t planning on getting married on Fantasy Island, and neither was I, but it turned out to be the best damned accident of my life, and I’d like to do it again. On purpose. If you could take a chance on me? I’d be grateful.”
* * *
ASHLEY TRIED TO focus on Levi, trying to read his expression. “You don’t do relationships.”
“You’re gonna be my first. And my last.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re serious?” Please, please be serious.
“Babe, that’s what the handcuffs are all about.” She must have looked blank, because he continued. “I’m here to stay. I’m sticking for as long as you want me.”
Oh. God. If she cried, she’d have to kill herself.
He wasn’t done talking, though. “When we were on the island, you said the only way I’d stick was if I was handcuffed.”
“So you thought you’d prove your undying love for me by handcuffing yourself to my bed?”
“Something like that.” He grinned, looking more than a little sheepish.
This was probably the point where she should trot out an I love you speech of her own. Because she did. Love him. But she didn’t have any cute games or clever words. All she had were her feelings for him.
“You gonna say something?” he asked when she just sat there and stared at him.
“You really want to get married?” Because it was impulsive and reckless and...she wanted to do it. She really did. She just needed the right reason.
“I love you. I just drove fifteen hours straight to get here so I could tell you.”
“Do I have to give you a speech?”
“Nope. All you have to do is tell me that you love me back.”
She swung off him and padded toward her abandoned jacket. “You’re headed the wrong way,” he said. “In case you didn’t realize it.”
There was a note of vulnerability in his voice she hadn’t heard before, so she made her errand quick. The little box was right where she’d left it, tucked in the pocket of her jacket. Maybe this was stupid. On the other hand, he’d handcuffed himself to the bed and she definitely wanted to take the chance he was offering. Take a chance on them, take a chance on love.
“I love you,” she admitted softly, returning to the bed. “I have something to show you.”
Flipping the box open, she turned it around so he could see the ring. When she’d seen it, it had made her think of Levi and their time on the island. The band was silver, but she’d fallen in love with the green emerald in the middle. It was the color of palm trees, and it made her think of the island. Of him.
Shoot. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it. “I know it’s silly.”
He looked up at her. “It’s perfect. Are you asking me to marry you, Dixie?”
“Yes.” She sucked in a deep, tremulous breath. “I am.”
He groaned. “You couldn’t have told me this before I went to all this trouble and tied myself to the bed?”
“You’re a US Navy SEAL. I’ll bet you can get out of those cuffs in under thirty seconds. Before I lose my bra and panties.”
“You’re on.” He grinned at her. “What do I get when I win?”
“Me,” she whispered, and it didn’t take him thirty seconds. More like two, so the man had definitely cheated. She shrieked when his arms came around her, and God, she hoped her neighbors had remembered to close their windows.
“You really gonna put a ring on me?” he growled, pulling her back against him and threading his fingers through hers.
“You bet.” The air left her lungs, something happier and headier replacing it. Love. Affection. Tenderness. And a sense of homecoming that had nothing to do with where she was, and everything to do with the man holding her. She slid the ring onto his finger, admiring the fit.
“Just so you know,” he said, and she knew a promise when she heard one, “I always collect on my bets.”
“You’ve got me.” Screw it. She wasn’t a girly girl and she was more than a little impatient, so she put his ring on her finger. The pink pearl in its circle of diamonds winked up at her, and she smiled.
“Each other,” he allowed, brushing a kiss over her mouth.
“Yes,” she said immediately, wrapping her arms around him because holding on to him was the best chance, the best dare she’d ever made. “Win or lose, we’ll always have each other.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from COME CLOSER, COWBOY by Debbi Rawlins.
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Come Closer, Cowboy
by Debbi Rawlins
1
MALLORY HAD DISAPPEARED. Without a single word. Without so much as leaving a voice mail.
Gunner Ellison stood at the open door to the Renegade and slipped off his sunglasses. He’d expected to see her standing behind the bar just like always, staring back at him with those sexy green eyes and that killer smile. But the place was empty. The solid oak tables and chairs were gone. So was the pool table, the jukebox and the dartboard. In the window was a sign that said Closed for Good.
Too many sleepless nights and the long plane ride had nearly knocked him on his ass. Exhausted, Gunner rubbed his eyes, hoping this was nothing but a bad dream. Then he took another bleak look around.
Everything. Gone.
He just didn’t get it. She still had another week left on her lease. They’d talked about her raising drink prices in order to meet the steep rent hike. Other stuntmen he worked and drank with, and even the bikers who crowded her Valencia bar at all hours, none of them would’ve cared. Not if it meant keeping Mallory in business.
This was crazy. They were friends, damn it, and he’d offered to help her. Couldn’t she have waited for him to get back before giving up the place?
He’d been working on location in Argentina for four weeks. They’d talked a couple times after he’d first gotten there. But then she’d stopped taking his calls. And he had a terrible feeling he knew why.