Retreat (Getaway #1)

by Jay Crownover

  His hips canted, angled hard and fast against mine. This wasn’t seduction or persuasion. This was primal, uninhibited slacking of a need. This was working out the sting of being apart and leaving something unforgettable in its place. This was imprinting on one another, so when the other moved, there was no way to forget that we had been joined. I felt Cy in every line and curve of my body. And as he pounded, drove, and hammered his way deeper and deeper inside of me, I could tell by the tense lines in his face and the furious clench of his jaw as he struggled to remain in control that he felt me in all his tendons and fibers as well. We were weaving ourselves together through passion and promise, so tightly that nothing would ever be able to unravel us.

  “Leo . . . two weeks is two too many. I’m not going to make it much longer.” That rare smile that was mine moved over his mouth. I felt my inner muscles clench around him, making him grunt in surprise, at the sight. The goatee made the grin wicked and dangerous. It was hot. He was hot. We were hot together. “I want you to always open the door when I knock and I’m about to blow . . . so help a desperate man out before he embarrasses himself, Sunshine.”

  He was going to come before me, and for a guy like Cy, that wasn’t okay. He wanted to get his, but not until I got mine . . . which kind of made him perfect. I skimmed a hand over his collarbone and over the bulging, hard planes of his chest. There was no give, only corded, unyielding strength. He could hold onto me forever and never let me down. I let my finger tickle over his delineated abs, the muscles clenching and tightening under my touch. My fingers slipped easily between us, taunting, teasing both of us at the same time. I knew exactly where he wanted me to put them, that he needed a finger on the trigger so we both could go off, but I missed him, and I missed the way he felt slippery and slick as he moved in and out of my body.

  The backs of my fingers danced over his straining erection as he slowed his rapid fire pace, breathing hard and looking at me with a whole new kind of storm brewing in his eyes. I smiled at him, and when he smiled back there was no more denying what we both needed. I brushed my fingers over my clit, the little nub stiff and eager for attention. The gentle caress was enough to make my eyes cross and it had everything inside me locking down around Cy and coating his cock with endless rivers of desire. He grunted as my body held onto his and it only took a couple of careful circles with my fingertip and some purposeful pressure from my thumb to push me over the edge. I wasn’t the only one falling, because as soon as I broke, I heard Cy mutter, “Thank fuck,” as he followed after me.

  Knees shook, pelvises rubbed together hard enough to leave marks, muscles quivered as lungs struggled for air. Lips twisted into smiles that stretched infinitely and hearts tripped over each other as they reached out to let the other one know they were still there.

  I was going to have the imprint of his jeans branded to the inside of my thighs for days and beard burn on my chest for twice as long. I wouldn’t forget him and I didn’t want to.

  “I missed you, too, Leo.” He pressed me into the door, holding me captive, not that I was going to run anywhere. “I loved one woman enough with a normal kind of love that I was able to let her go, but you, Leo, I’m pretty sure I can love you with more than that, so I won’t ever be able to tell you goodbye and mean it. I’m not asking you to be with me where I am, but I am asking you to let me be with you wherever you are, when I can make that happen.” He sighed, his eyes serious and telling me more than his words were. “I’ve always managed to keep my feet under me. No matter what hit me, I stood standing. You left and I fell to my knees, Sunshine.”

  My throat closed and eyes welled up with tears. I’d never taken anyone to their knees before, and the fact that it was this man, this bastion of strength and fortitude, made me feel like the most powerful woman in the world . . . and the most loved. He was willing to live his life around his history and his obligations for me. He was willing to take on the challenge.

  I put my hands on his face and moved forward so that my head touched the place in his chest where his heart was thunder and his soul was lightning.

  “It’s too noisy here, Cy. I can’t see or hear anything that matters. I don’t want to be lost in this chaos anymore. I want to be someone who is heard because she says what she means, like I mean it when I tell you I could love you with a love that is more than love too.” I lifted my eyes to his and watched as our moments stretched from stolen fragments to a lifetime. “I don’t know how it’s going to work for a while. You come to me, I come to you, and when we see each other we’ll come together.” He smirked at me as I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “I’m up to the challenge.” I really was. The easy road hadn’t gotten me anywhere, while the mountains I’d always been terrified to climb had given me everything.

  He nodded and I kissed him. I told him he looked sexy in the cowboy gear, but I liked him better out of it. The buckle was annoying, his boots made him taller than he already was, the hat hid his amazing hair and even more amazing eyes.

  He was always going to be not quite a cowboy, and that was just fine by me because he was going to be my not quite a cowboy. I didn’t care about the things he wasn’t because it was all the things he was that made me want better, made me be better, and made me appreciate what I had instead of miss the things I didn’t.

  He was everything to everyone, but I was the only one who made him smile.

  No Time Like the Present

  “Are you a real cowgirl?”

  The question came from a little girl who was only nine or ten years old. It made me smile and it had Lane snorting from where he stood next to me as we welcomed the family he was taking on the ride the next day. She was a cute kid but her skepticism at my authenticity was extra adorable. I mean, I had the look down, faded denim that was frayed at the hem and torn at the knee. A much smaller version of Cy’s black Stetson perched on top of my head that was a must to keep my pale skin from turning cherry red and also happened to look awesome when I pulled my curly hair into twin ponytails on either side of my head. I was fond of fitted plaid shirts. The Justin Ropers I bought the first time I took a step on this dusty soil were now finally broken in and battered the way they were meant to be. I was still mad at the giant belt buckle and how difficult they made getting into Cy’s pants, so I refused to wear one, but even without it I thought my cowgirl gear was pretty on point. Leave it to a precocious little girl to see right through it.

  I winked at her and gave Lane a nudge with my elbow to stop his laughing. “I’m not quite a cowgirl, but I’m something close to it.” I hooked a thumb toward the grinning man next to me and gave her a smile. “But this one here is the real deal. You couldn’t ask for a better cowboy to spend your vacation with and to show you around Wyoming.”

  That seemed to appease her and she bounced off with the rest of her family as Lane led them toward one of the bunk houses to get settled for the night.

  I wasn’t ever going to be a cowgirl, there was too much of the city in my blood. However the longer I was able to spend my days under the open sky, and the more fresh air I breathed in, the more I felt this untamed land take root inside of me. I had no problem playing dress up to meet new clients. I liked it. The fact that what I wore to work was often covered in dust and torn by the end of the day, was a thousand times more rewarding than a day spent keeping linen skirts unwrinkled and stilettos unscuffed. I loved it here. I loved the people here. I loved who I was here. And I appreciated all of it even more because it had taken much longer than I wanted for me to come back.

  For two months, Cy and I logged an ungodly amount of frequent flyer miles back and forth to see each other. We never said goodbye again, because it was never good and it was never bye for very long. I had to finish out my contract for Chris’s wife. A task that became more and more unbearable each day that went by. The woman didn’t want to let me go and she didn’t want to let the fact that she felt like I owed her more than I did drop. She tried to cajole me into staying. She tried to threaten me. She tr
ied to bribe me and when all of that persuasion failed, she actually had the nerve to send Chris in to try and convince me to stay.

  Unfortunately for my ex, he picked a weekend to make his move when Cy was visiting. As soon as he was greeted by the towering pillar of fury that was Cyrus Warner, he tucked tail and hightailed it back to his wife. He must have mentioned that I was making far better choices in the men department to her because she finally shut up and let me finish out the contract in peace. As soon as my last day was done, I wanted to throw everything I owned into a suitcase and catch the first flight I could to Wyoming, but it wasn’t possible.

  Sutton’s injuries were far worse than anyone was ready to deal with. He wasn’t able to walk the entire first month he was out of the hospital and it was only after intensive physical therapy that he could maneuver around with a walker. The middle Warner brother was not taking the changes well, and as a result had lashed out at his family. Cy was worried about his brother and his worrying made him scarily overprotective, which only served to further infuriate Sutton. The grumpy cowboy had turned sullen and withdrawn. He hardly had anything to do with the day-to-day operations of the ranch and the tour company anymore, and Cy said he was barely making any effort to see Daye. Lane let it slip during one of my too short visits that the moody Warner was also hitting the bottle pretty hard, as well as popping pain pills when he didn’t seem to need them. All of it accumulated into a tense and hostile vibe at the house and prompted Cy to hire several employees from the surrounding area to pick up the slack.

  I wasn’t about to insert myself into the middle of the Warner family drama even though late night phone calls, sexy sessions over Skype, and definitely X-rated FaceTime chats were getting old. I always loved to hear Cy’s gravelly voice and there was something undeniably erotic about watching my rough and rugged man get off to nothing more than the sound of my voice, but none of it matched the real thing. I needed to have my hands on him, my lips tasting him, and my heart near his. The distance wasn’t making it grow fonder but it was making it desperate and needy.

  Plus, while Cy was dealing with Sutton, I still had to make sure Emrys was going to be okay. If I wasn’t flying to Wyoming for the weekend, then I was off to the sunny shores of Florida to check on my best friend. She wasn’t making much progress mentally, but apparently, my grandmother’s neighbor at the condo was a retired plastic surgeon, and also Gram’s sometimes boyfriend, I was stunned to find out. Somehow, he managed to talk Em into letting someone he recommended look at the scar on her face. She agreed to getting it treated, so the mark was less visible and her face was back to being beautiful, but she was still sullen, withdrawn, and lost inside herself. She refused to talk to a professional and only agreed to see her family when they showed up unannounced on my Gram’s doorstep, demanding some face to face time with her. It didn’t help anything when both her parents broke into uncontrollable tears when they caught sight of her. The scar on her face was barely there, but the one on her chest was still visible and glaring. There was no missing the fact that Em had been right on death’s doorstep and was lucky there was no answer when it knocked.

  My grandma did a wonderful job giving her a shoulder to cry on and a safe place to hide away from the world. Em was really good at beating all the other retirees at bridge and bingo, but eventually her time seeking shelter was up. Gram wanted to go on a cruise with the plastic surgeon so there was no way Em could stay at her place while she was gone since it was strictly a community for older folks. I was getting ready to make my move to the ranch, so it was time for some tough love.

  I sat Em down and told her I would be there for her no matter what it took. I told her that I understood she was healing at her own pace but that pace seemed to be stuck in neutral. I begged her to come with me to talk to a therapist and then I pulled out the big guns and told her that Sutton was having just as hard of a time getting back on his feet as she was. I didn’t want her to blame herself for the cowboy’s condition but she had to know she wasn’t the only one walking away from the confrontation in the woods with wounds that ran deeper than the bone. I was hoping the shock of hearing how hard a time such a strong man was having bouncing back would guide her to the realization she wasn’t alone.

  My plan backfired.

  The day I was supposed to leave, and was planning on taking Em back to California to her parents, I woke up to an empty apartment. Gram had left for her cruise and Em had packed up her meager belongings and disappeared once again. This time there was no place to run to. This time there was no welcoming sand for her to dunk her head underneath. I had no clue where she was running to, but wherever it was I doubted she was running fast enough to leave all the demons and doubt that were chasing her behind.

  I called my new friends who worked for the government and asked Grady to keep an eye out for her. They still needed her in the case they were building against the cartel, so I knew they wouldn’t let her get too far before having to pull her back in. Grady gave his word that I would get a phone call if anything suspicious popped up in relation to Em’s name. I did the hardest thing I had ever done . . . I let her go.

  There was no expiration date on my willingness to help her, but there was on my tolerance for letting her abuse herself and take the blame for something that was beyond her control. I couldn’t cram help down her throat, she would choke on it.

  All in all, it took about four months to get myself back where I felt I belonged. At first, I told Cy I would stay in one of the bunkhouses on the property or look at living in Sheridan while we adjusted to each other. I didn’t want time we spent together filled with words and worries. I did want the time we spent together to be a whirlwind of hands, mouths, and naked bodies trying to get as much from the other as we could. We still didn’t know each other that well and I didn’t want to rush something that was so important.

  Cy gave me that look, the one that told me I was being overly cautious and careful. The one that said he knew I was still running. I was used to keeping everyone at arm’s length and he refused to let me do that with him. He told me if I was moving into a bunkhouse, then so was he. If I rented a place in Sheridan, then he was moving there with me until I was ready to call the ranch home, which he pointed out was a ridiculous plan. He relented some when I balked at his pushy and demanding attitude and agreed that I could have my own room in the main house, as there were plenty of empty ones for me to claim. I figured that was a fair tradeoff and agreed. It had been months, and I’d yet to spend a night in the room where my stuff was. The room pretty much acted as nothing more than a closet, because just like I told Cy at the hospital, where he was, I was. I didn’t want to go to bed without him.

  Letting me into his life and into his bed had been easy enough. Letting me into his business hadn’t gone as smoothly. The man was a control freak and it was like beating my head against a very sexy brick wall every time I tried to get him to let me help him with the marketing and the branding of the ranch. He was a savvy businessman, but he was out of touch with the human element. I reminded him, over and over again, that I made my living convincing people to spend money, but got nowhere until a competitor located in Jackson Hole reached out and asked if I would be interested in working on a new campaign for them.

  I told Cy he could either let me in the gates at home or watch me lead the enemy into battle and eventually, after a few days of brooding and a few nights of no sex, he came around. Making up was fun, but digging my hands into something that would be around forever and would be passed down to generation after generation of Warners, was even better. There was reward in convincing people that Cy’s ranch and the backcountry tours Lane led were better than everyone else’s because I really believed that. This place was a part of me now and I wanted everyone who visited to love it and be transformed by it like I had. I meant every single word I said when I went to work convincing the world they needed to leave their cares behind and visit here to shut out the noise.

  Cy had been on confere
nce calls all day, so I hadn’t seen much of him. He still wasn’t overly friendly with the guests, but he was getting better. His permanent glower had been replaced with a grin and the storm in his eyes only raged now when we were alone, and when that happened, I couldn’t wait for it to crash into the shore.

  I was navigating the massive, rustic house when my phone beeped with an incoming email. Every time that happened I hoped against hope it was Em . . . but it never was.

  This time when I saw who the sender was my disappointment was shoved to the side and a smile tugged at my lips. The contents of the brief email made me chuckle as I pushed into Cy’s office, eyes immediately going to the big desk and the even bigger man behind it. He was still on the phone and the scowl on his face indicated that he wasn’t liking whatever he was hearing on the other end of the conversation. I made my way over to him, climbed over one of his legs, and propped myself up in the center of his desk right in front of him while I tapped out a response to the email. His other leg pressed into the outside of my knee so I was caged in. I liked that his scowl had switched to a seductive smirk as he watched me watch him.

  He still favored soft tees and beaten denim. His hair still looked better than mine at any given minute of any given day. He still wore motorcycle boots instead of cowboy boots and the only time he wore his Stetson was when I begged him to bring it to bed. It never stayed on for very long but I liked the way it looked on his dark head. I may have let him get away with all the dirty things he wanted to do with me when he wore the hat. It was a weakness and I never could deny him a thing when he had it on.