“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Foil crinkled. “We still have unfinished business.”
She struggled to find enough air in her lungs to tell him she was done. “You’ll have to...finish it.”
His chuckle was low and filled with desire. “Don’t worry. I have enough momentum to carry both of us.”
“Good.”
He moved between her thighs. “A true gentleman wouldn’t ask this of you.” Bracing himself on his forearms, he probed gently with the tip of his penis. “But I’ve never claimed to be a true gentleman, and I need...” He sucked in a breath and rocked forward, burying himself deep. “This.” He stayed still for several long moments before letting out his breath. Then he leaned down and kissed her gently. “Perfect.”
Despite having three orgasms and feeling as if she had no more to give, Bethany found herself reacting to the delicious slide of his penis. “You feel good inside me.”
“That’s the general idea.” He drew back a fraction and pushed home again. “If this didn’t feel really good, the human race would have died out long ago.”
The light had nearly faded from the room. Yet she looked up at him, wanting to make that connection even though they couldn’t see each other very well. “You’re keeping a tight rein on yourself, aren’t you?”
“Trying to. I don’t want to jolt you out of your postorgasmic haze if I can help it.” He drew back and slid in again.
She found the energy to wiggle her hips. “You must want more than that. You’ve been on the verge of coming for quite a while. Aren’t you ready to turn that bad boy loose?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re a wicked woman, Bethany Grace. If you’re not careful what you say, you’re liable to find yourself being ridden like you’ve never been ridden before.”
His words lit a flash fire that burned away her exhaustion and left desire beating a steady tattoo in her core. “You know what?” She wrapped her legs around his hips. “I’d like nothing better.”
He hesitated, as if not quite believing what he’d heard. Then he groaned and his whole body tensed. “Damn, lady. I hope you know what you’re asking for.”
As she continued to gaze up at him, she clutched his muscled arms, loving the way they flexed beneath her fingers. “Do it, cowboy. Ride like the wind.”
With a soft oath, he eased back, but this time he didn’t return slowly. Oh, no. He shoved into her with a force that lifted her from the mattress.
Wow. She’d had no idea, but there was no time to think, only to feel. Nash radiated raw masculine power as instinct replaced logic. He seemed driven by the need to claim and possess, and she responded with primitive joy as she absorbed the pounding rhythm that shook her from the balls of her feet to the roots of her hair.
So this was how a man firmly planted in the natural world made love. The heat and intensity swept her along and she rose to meet each vigorous thrust. Panting, she urged him on, and he picked up the pace.
Their bodies became slick with sweat as they slammed together again and again. She hadn’t expected to climax this time, but suddenly, there it was, and she was coming in glorious spirals of sensuality while he continued to pump into her, as though he couldn’t get enough.
Then, with one last thrust and a groan that seemed torn from the depths of his soul, he shuddered in her arms. She held him close, murmuring soft words and stroking his back. Instinctively she knew that in responding to her tonight, he’d risked far more than she had.
He’d been hurt in ways that hadn’t touched her, at least not yet. She’d never allowed herself to get serious enough about a man to contemplate marrying him. In some ways she’d protected herself from the worst kind of heartbreak. She’d never considered her choices to be cowardly, but they seemed that way now.
Nash hadn’t been a coward, though. He’d flown into the heart of the storm and taken a beating. Sadly, her last book had been one of the lightning bolts that had nearly wiped him out.
Although she wouldn’t take responsibility for that—his ex-wife could claim the honor—Nash deserved better. She didn’t qualify because she wouldn’t be sticking around long enough. But at least she wouldn’t kick him in the teeth when she left.
Slowly he sank against her, although he kept most of his weight on his forearms. He nestled his head against her shoulder. “Incredible,” he murmured.
“Yes.” She continued to stroke his back. “Incredible.”
“I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep. I can’t do that.”
“Guess not.”
“They’ll expect me to come in at a reasonable hour.”
She smiled. “It’s like high school all over again with parents waiting up. Do you have a curfew?”
“No, but...”
“Someone will take note of when you get home.”
“Yeah. I sleep in a bunkhouse. At least one of the hands will wake up if I come in late. Nothing will be said then, but tomorrow I’ll face the comments and joking remarks.”
“Do you care?”
“Not for myself.” He propped his chin on his fist. “But I don’t want them thinking anything they shouldn’t about you.”
She was touched by his chivalry. “I’m the one who started this by kissing you, Nash.”
“No one will hear that from me.”
“Does it matter? Even if I’m branded a loose woman, I’m not sticking around. If nobody connects me to the woman who writes motivational books, I’ll just be the Grace girl who came back to straighten out her father’s affairs, got it on with a local guy and left, never to be seen again.”
“You have a point, but I still don’t want to give anybody a reason to say something insulting about you. Then I’d have to deck them, and that’s not—”
“You’d fight them?” She was stunned. “Why?”
He peered at her in the darkness. “How long have you been gone from this area?”
“I left when I was eighteen and haven’t lived here since then, which makes it about thirteen years. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Either you’ve forgotten how things work around here, or you never really knew. But in cowboy country, a man doesn’t stand by and let others insult his wom— I mean, the person he’s involved with. Well, unless he doesn’t like her anymore and she deserves it. But even then, a guy’s likely to stand up for her.”
She caught the slip. He’d almost called her his woman. Chivalry was all well and good, but if it included possessive, paternalistic behavior, she would take a pass. “I appreciate the urge to defend my honor, Nash, but it’s really not necessary. Besides, if you challenge someone to a fight because they said something about me, won’t they get the wrong impression about our relationship?”
He was silent for a few moments as if considering that. “I suppose, which is why I can’t fall asleep in your bed. If I show up back at the ranch before eleven, and I have some sawdust on my boots and maybe a little paint on my shirt, no one will imagine anything is going on between us.”
Now it was her turn to think. Maybe she was being paranoid about how the Triple G looked. If she cleaned up the house and salvaged any keepsakes, something she could do during the day, maybe it wasn’t so all-fired important for the exterior to get a face-lift. She wasn’t trying to get top dollar, anyway.
If she was careful and cautioned the real estate agent to keep his or her mouth shut, no one would connect this place with her public persona. The less she had to worry about how this ranch looked on the outside, the more time she could spend in bed with Nash.
No, that wouldn’t work. He’d already told her he needed the money, and paying him for sex wouldn’t fit either of their value systems. She’d already cut into tonight’s income.
But now that she’d experienced being turned inside out by Nash Bledsoe, she wanted him to do it again.
He might want that, too, which wouldn’t leave him much time to work on her place. Unless they vowed to stop having sex, his paycheck would be adversely affected.
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t consider all the ramifications of getting naked.”
“That’s okay. I did.”
“You did? When?”
“During dinner, when I began to realize that we might end up like this.”
“And what were your conclusions?”
He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. “Before we talk about that, let’s get dressed. We have things to discuss, and I don’t know about you, but I’ll think better if we both have clothes on.”
She groaned. “Exactly. That’s what I mean about not considering everything. I didn’t realize that having sex tonight would mean we’d want to have it the rest of the week. Speaking strictly for me, of course. Maybe you don’t—”
“Sweetheart, I definitely want to have sex all week. Never doubt it.”
“But that presents a problem.”
“Don’t worry.” He kissed her once more. “We’ll work it out. I have an idea.” He left the bed, headed into her bathroom and switched on the light.
She hoped he wasn’t blinded by all that pink. Sitting up, she swung her legs to the floor. “What idea?” she called out.
“I’ll tell you once we’re both dressed.”
“Sorry it’s so pink in there.” She stood and stretched. Wow, she was one satisfied woman.
“I can handle pink. Put on some clothes and I’ll meet you in the dining room.” A familiar squeak indicated that he’d turned on the faucet in the sink. The ancient pipes set up a racket, clanking and rattling until he turned off the water. “Good Lord. You need a plumber.”
“I know.” Feeling daring and sexy, she walked over to the bathroom and leaned against the doorjamb. “Have I found one?”
He met her gaze in the medicine cabinet mirror and grinned. “Lady, you’ve found yourself a jack-of-all-trades, master of none.”
And there she was, ready to swoon again. “I can think of one thing you’re a master of.”
“Oh, yeah?” His grin widened.
“Mr. Bledsoe, you did indeed turn this girl inside out.”
His grin faded as heat flickered in his blue eyes. “Glad to hear it. Now get out of here before you end up sitting on this pink counter with your legs in the air while I do you.”
That visual prompted a burst of shocked laughter. “I don’t know if I’d bend that way.”
“You’d be surprised what you can do when you’re highly motivated. But the vanity’s so old we might break the damned thing. So get some clothes on. Please.”
She hesitated, torn between finding out what his idea might be and experiencing bathroom-counter sex with him. She didn’t really care if they broke the vanity.
“Go!”
That was when she noticed that he was gripping the edge of the counter and had stepped back a little to make room for his growing erection.
“I really want to have a conversation with you.” His tone was mild but his jaw twitched. “We need to be clear on a few things before we do this again.”
“Right.” She turned, hurried back into the bedroom and snatched up her clothes. She’d dress in the kitchen, away from temptation. The intensity of her craving for Nash, and his for her, was exciting. Scary, too.
He was right, though. They needed to be clear on a few things so that both of them would come out of this okay. No matter how glorious their sex life might turn out to be, it had a shelf life of one short week.
6
NASH DIDN’T WANT TO TAKE the time or deal with the discomfort of a cold shower, and he had some mental tricks for taming his buddy. Going through sports stats usually helped. But sure enough, his uncooperative brain superimposed the stats on Bethany’s naked body.
Once the image popped into his head, it wouldn’t leave. The stats rolled like movie credits, sliding over her breasts and down her tummy. Then they came to rest on...okay, stats weren’t working for him tonight.
Maybe he should imagine himself in some crappy situation, like getting his truck stuck in the mud. Ah, mud. He pictured Bethany wrestling with him, her body slippery and agile until he finally pinned her and they had squishy, erotic sex. Nice job, Bledsoe. Your cock is now harder than an ax handle. What else you got?
With a loud curse, he stepped over to the shower and turned on the cold water. The clanking pipes covered the sound of more cussing as he subjected his overheated body to an icy spray. But it did the job.
He needed his wits about him when he made his offer to buy the ranch. Thinking of sex with Bethany might distract him and screw up the discussion before it had reached the conclusion he wanted. He also couldn’t forget to tell her she was free to change her mind at the end of the week.
Knowing he had to add that part made him nervous, but it was the only fair way to approach what was a big decision for both of them. In fact, pushing her to decide tonight was neither fair nor smart. He should give her time to think about it.
After drying off with her very pink towel, he hung it back where he’d found it and walked into the bedroom to get dressed. The door into the kitchen was closed, but a light shone underneath. From the sound of dishes being scraped in the kitchen and the aroma of coffee brewing, he figured out that she wasn’t waiting patiently in the dining room like he’d told her to. He should have known she wouldn’t meekly follow his directions.
Well, good for her. Whenever he was agitated, like now, he had a bad habit of giving orders. Lindsay had called him on it, and in that area, she’d been absolutely justified in criticizing his behavior. Although he’d been working on that character flaw, apparently the luscious Miss Grace had stressed him to the point of reverting to his old bossy self.
After pulling on his briefs and jeans, he sat on the edge of her little bed to tug on his boots. During that operation he realized what a disaster he’d made of her bedroom. She’d had it fixed all neat and tidy, and he’d flung pillows and linens every which way. She brought out something in him that no other woman ever had, and he’d be damned if he knew why.
At first he’d been intrigued with the idea of storming the castle that was Bethany Grace, motivational guru. Mission accomplished. She’d even said so. Yet instead of proclaiming mission accomplished and resting on his laurels, he wanted more.
Everything about her—the softness of her skin, the shape of her mouth, the luster of her hair, the curve of her hips, the scent of her body—drove him bat-shit crazy with lust. That hadn’t happened to him before, not ever. He’d been attracted to women and enjoyed them immensely. He’d fallen in love, or thought he had, with Lindsay.
But this—this was something else. Maybe it was the ticking clock affecting him. No matter what, she’d be gone in a week. It could be that old scarcity model. Because she was only available to him a few hours a night for one precious week, he felt a sense of urgency, a need to make the most of it.
Whether or not they would act like crazed bunnies this week depended mostly on the outcome of their upcoming discussion. Originally he’d planned to talk about this over a bottle of wine. As he buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his jeans, he smiled.
The wine had served a different function, and he wasn’t sorry. No matter what happened from here on out, he wouldn’t ever regret what they’d just shared. As they said in sports, tonight was one for the record books.
After buckling his belt, he turned on her bedside lamp so he could straighten the room a little. He didn’t put it all back the way she’d had it because he couldn’t remember exactly how it had been and he wasn’t much of an arranger. But he draped the top sheet and comforter over the bed and piled on the pillows so they were no longer on the carpet.
Finally, he walked to the door a
nd opened it. She stood at the sink, her hands deep in soapsuds. He’d halfway expected her to leap for the light switch because earlier she’d been so insistent that he not see the shabby kitchen.
But she stayed where she was and simply turned her head to smile at him. Once again, he didn’t notice his surroundings at all. All he could see was her.
It was one of those moments that would stay with him for a long time. Although she was dressed in her sleeveless white blouse and gray capris, the clothes were rumpled from being on the floor. Knowing why they’d been on the floor made the outfit sexier than a negligee.
She’d finger-combed her hair, but she had some little cowlicks going on in back, no doubt caused by sweating and tossing her head around each time he made her come. She had no makeup left, but her flushed cheeks and bright eyes indicated that she was a woman who’d recently enjoyed some very good sex.
And perhaps the most appealing thing of all, the part of the presentation that made him long to wrap his arms around her and never let go, was her decision to have this discussion barefoot. Something about that implied trust. He was touched, turned on and wholly captured by this woman. He’d be wise not to let her know that, because then their situation could get really dicey.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Love some.”
“Brownies?”
“My favorite. Don’t tell me you baked today, on top of everything else you did.”
“Nope.” She let the water out of the sink and grabbed a towel to wipe her hands. “I knew this would be a rough week, so besides buying groceries in Jackson, I hit a bakery and stocked up on goodies.”
A rough week. Right. She’d just lost her father. Some people handled grief by getting it on with the nearest available partner. Well, if he served that purpose for her, he didn’t really mind. It wasn’t as if the sex could lead to anything, anyway.
He glanced around the kitchen. “What can I do?”
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a white bakery box. The scent of chocolate came with it. “Carry these into the dining room. I could arrange them on a plate, but—”
I Cross My Heart Page 6