by T. J. Kline
Sydney sighed. “That was a kiss.”
Scott smiled down at her, although he despised himself for his lack of control where she was concerned. He started to rise. He had to put some distance between them or she was going to be his undoing.
“Jus’ where do you think you’re goin’?” Surprisingly quick in her inebriated state, Sydney reached out and grasped his wrist.
Scott’s chest was tight as he faced her. God, she was beautiful. “Princess, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight. I’m just going to let you sleep it off.”
“What if sleep wasn’t what I was thinking about?” She smiled up at him wickedly.
Scott felt his loins burn at the thought. “I don’t think that’s a good idea tonight.”
“You don’t want me?” Scott saw the disappointment in Sydney’s eyes as embarrassment colored her face.
Hell, this is what he’d been trying to avoid. Scott dropped to a knee beside the bed again and cupped her face in his hands. His desire for this woman flooded his senses, the sweet scent of her driving him insane. He tipped his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Do you really believe that?”
Sydney tried to turn away from him. “I’m not sure what to believe.”
“Princess, do you really think you mean so little to me?” His voice was husky with desire. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sydney, answer me.”
“I don’t know what to think,” she shot back, defensively.
Scott realized that she had taken his concern for rejection. He kissed her cheek. “Don’t you see how much I care about you? I have never felt this way about anyone.”
Sydney’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but he wasn’t sure if they were due to pain or joy. “Liz . . .” she began.
“No,” he assured her. “I never felt this way about her. I wasn’t leaving the room because I don’t want you. I was sleeping on the couch because I don’t want you to hate me in the morning for taking advantage of you.” Scott stared at her perfect lips.
“Really?”
Scott sighed and closed his eyes before meeting her questioning gaze. He couldn’t resist the desire to taste her lips again. He lowered his head, intent on tasting her mouth again, when he saw her face contort. Knowing what was about to happen, he jumped from the bed, clearing a path for her to the bathroom door.
“I’m going to be sick,” she explained as she hurried toward the toilet.
Scott followed her, reaching for a washcloth and wetting it at the sink with cool water. He reached the bathroom door in time to see her sit back on her heels, trying to pull the loose tendrils of hair back away from her face. He handed her the washcloth and helped her hold back her hair.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Wiping her face with the cloth, Sydney rose and walked to the sink. As she reached for the sink’s handles, she lifted a white rose from behind them. He hadn’t even noticed it in his hurry to get to her. He watched her fingers pluck a note from the wall behind the flower. As she read it silently, he saw her eyes brighten before misting over. She turned and smiled brightly at him, holding the note out for him to take.
“What does it say?”
“Read it.” She continued to hold the paper out until he took it.
Scott glanced at the handwriting and instantly recognized Clay’s scrawling script. He’d expected it to have been from Jen.
Sydney,
I realize that I haven’t known you long and I don’t know you as well as Jen does, but it’s obvious to everyone that you are a wonderful, talented, and loving woman. It’s no wonder that Scott fell for you from the start. Don’t let his evil looks and foul moods fool you. He is happier than I have seen him in years because of you. Thank you for giving us back the “old” Scott.
Clay
Scott wasn’t sure what to say. Clay had always been pretty quiet about the situation with Liz, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned that he thought Scott was unhappy since, but he was right. Scott had allowed his feelings about one failed relationship to color every chance at finding what Jen and Clay shared.
“So, are you happy now?” Sydney rinsed her mouth at the sink before sitting on the couch.
Scott tried to judge Sydney’s motive for asking. He didn’t like reminiscing about the past, seeing no point in bringing up buried things, but he’d almost lost Sydney once when Liz returned. He didn’t want it to happen a second time. But Sydney didn’t pry; she simply waited for his answer expectantly.
Scott sat on the couch next to her, urging her to curl into his arms. “I didn’t exactly have a picture-perfect childhood, but at first it was pretty great. My parents were partners with Mike and his wife. Jen was about twelve when my parents left to do a no-name rodeo on the coast.”
Scott paused and took a deep breath. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about his parents and what he had lost, what each of them had lost.
“How old were you?” Sydney asked, looking up at him.
Scott dropped his cheek to the top of her head, her soft curls tickling his lips as he inhaled the sweet scent of her, reminding him of raspberries and leather, femininity and strength.
“I had just turned eight. Derek was only about two.” Scott kissed the top of her head. “Anyway, they were gone a lot back then and we stayed with Mike, his wife, Ellie, and Liz. But this time, they didn’t return home. They were killed instantly by the semi that hit them head on in the fog.”
Scott tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, making any further comment impossible. He willed back the moisture in his eyes that threatened to spill over. He would not cry—not now, not ever, especially for something that couldn’t be changed. He had become the man in their family at eight, and a father figure to Derek as a child. There was no time for regret or sorrow. Cowboy up, Scott instructed himself.
Sydney’s hand twined in his, cooling his temper and dissipating his anger. “Derek never knew your parents then?” Her lips moved against his shirt, but he could feel the heat of them through the material.
Scott shook his head. “Everything they had was left to the three of us. Their share of the company has supported us since, and Mike took us in like we were his own children.”
SYDNEY SAT ENVELOPED in Scott’s embrace on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, until she wondered if he hadn’t fallen asleep. Scott’s head lay against the top of her own and his chest rose and fell rhythmically. She wanted to be there for him as he relived his past, sharing a part of him that she could tell he still hadn’t made peace with. She had heard the haunted note in his voice as he told her about his parents, and she desperately wanted to share his pain. Her heart broke for the boy who had tried to step into shoes only a man could fill, leaving his own childhood behind.
Sydney could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt and her fingers itched to touch him, to offer him any comfort. But she couldn’t bear to take her hand from his, which was curled against his chest. She heard his breath hitch and he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the palm and sending liquid fire racing from her hand to her shoulder and into the pit of her stomach. She felt the heat of his touch spread to her loins.
Scott looked down at her. “I want you, princess.”
Sydney cupped his face with both of her hands, his rough jaw scraping her palms. She lifted herself onto her knees and straddled his lap, allowing her full access to his mouth. Slowly, she kissed him. With her lips she tried to take away the sorrow she could see he had never fully allowed himself to feel. Her tongue danced with his, urging him to release the pent-up grief. When she finally pulled away, she knew that her heart was in her eyes, the love that she felt for this man shone like a beacon.
Scott’s eyes fell to the spaghetti straps at her shoulders and he slipped a finger under the thin material, letting it fall to her upper arm. Scott’s fingers followed his eyes as he slipped them from the column of her throat to her collarbone and over the crest her breasts. He
reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the curls to fall around her shoulders, and buried his fingers inside the waves, urging her head back and allowing him access to her throat. His lips rained burning kisses on her face and neck. Sydney arched her back at the sweet torture, and he rewarded her with his lips at her collarbone. Scott pulled the dress down and it slid easily to the indentation of her waist. He wasted no time removing the thin barrier of her strapless bra, the only thing between his hands and her flesh.
Sydney felt as if her body were aflame. Scott caressed the hardened rosy buds as he nibbled at her ear, gently probing the pink shell with his tongue. Sydney gasped and pulled him closer, trying to become one with him. She arched her back as his mouth neared her breast. Scott pressed kisses in the valley between them before tasting the underside. His tongue was wreaking havoc on her senses, and she cried out as white-hot lightning shot through her when he took her fully into his mouth.
After turning his attention to the other tight, rosy nipple, Scott lifted his smoky gaze to hers, forcing her to look into his passion-darkened eyes. “Undress me, Sydney.”
With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pulling it down his arms. She moved off of his lap and fumbled with the waistband of his pants, slowly unbuckling his belt and then the button of his pants. She reached for the zipper, her fingers grazing the swollen flesh beneath, and Scott growled.
“I can’t take this.” He stood with her, cupping her bottom, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed.
Scott laid her back with her knees hanging over the end of the bed and pulled her dress from her body, dropping it at his feet. He quickly shed his boots and pants, creating a puddle of clothing on the floor. Then he allowed his eyes to travel the length of her form, starting at the jumbled mass of auburn curls and pausing at the rise and fall of her breasts before continuing to her flat abdomen and the gentle swell of her hips.
Scott leaned over her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his unshaven jaw against her stomach. He held her as she curled her fingers into his hair; he breathed ragged puffs against her skin, and she wondered if he felt as out of control as she did. He trailed his fingers down her ribcage and pressed a kiss to her navel—a kiss that was both tender and incredibly erotic. His fingers continued their explorations across her hips, as if memorizing every detail of her skin. As he fell to his knees on the floor, he tugged the thin wisp of fabric with him, leaving her bared to the sweet torment of his hands. Pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, his rough jaw heightened her soaring ecstasy while his fingers found the nest of curls and taught her new pleasures. Scott’s lips inched up her thighs and Sydney arched, unable to control the physical response she had to his touch.
“Scott, wait,” she cried, her voice husky.
Scott’s tongue touched the center of her being. She had never known that a feeling like this existed. He worshiped her with this tongue and she felt her body cresting before exploding into dazzling points of light. Scott slid onto the bed, curling himself against her side, cupping her breast in his hand and pressing kisses to her shoulder. Sydney’s body hummed with pleasure.
“Scott?” she whispered. Sydney rolled over so that her body was pressed against his.
Scott smiled as he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Hmm?”
Sydney slid her knee to Scott’s hip, pressing against his chest so that he fell onto his back. “I think it’s my turn,” she whispered against his lips.
Sydney straddled Scott’s hips and met his eyes, blackened with desire. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, slipping her tongue inside tentatively. She had no idea how to please him, but she wanted desperately to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he had given her. She took his sigh as a sign that she was doing something he enjoyed. She pressed her lips to his neck, moving down to his chest and licking his hardened nipples. Scott growled in his throat and reached for her, intent to pull her against him, but she batted his hands away.
Her fingers trailed lightly against the hard muscles of his abs, every ridge of them standing out in the pale light. Sydney allowed her fingers to venture further, roaming across the muscles of his hips and thighs before remembering how he had touched her. When her gentle fingers touched him, he twitched and gasped for breath. She pressed a kiss to his hip, wondering if she could give him the same sense of pleasure she’d just experienced.
“Sydney, don’t,” he began, but stopped short as her tongue slid along the length of him.
A moan sounded deep in his chest as she pressed a kiss to the tip of him softly before taking him into her warmth. He shook as she teased him with her lips and mouth.
“No more,” he growled and pulled her up against his chest. He lifted her hips and slid her down the shaft of him, burying himself within her. Sydney arched as they both groaned in mutual pleasure. Scott slowly lifted her hips, teaching her the rhythm when she tried to speed up to keep time with her racing pulse.
“Slow, princess,” Scott purred. “Feel what I’m doing. Feel me inside you.”
She moaned at his erotic words, feeling the pleasure coursing through her body. Sydney felt the waves of rapture pulling her under as Scott reached for her, joining their mouths and tongues as their bodies were joined. Scott thrust into her deeply, quickly, and she cried, surrendering to the crescendo of their passion.
SYDNEY WOKE TO the sun shining through the window at the foot of the bed and found black eyes staring down at her. Scott brushed a stray curl from her forehead.
“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered as be bent his head to steal a kiss.
Sydney smiled and stretched, wondering when they had found their way under the covers last night, as she raised her arms from under the sheets and over her head. Scott cupped her breast and she squealed in protest, reaching for his hands.
“Don’t we have to get going?”
Scott pressed a kiss at the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, brushing her hands away. “No one is expecting us until this evening. I just have to collect a final payment this morning at the rodeo office,” he murmured, his lips teasing the flesh of her neck and ear. He rolled onto his back, carrying her with him onto his chest as she pretended to consider the implications of his words.
“What shall we do until then?”
He growled low in his throat. “I know what I’m going to do.” His fingers tickled her ribs as he ran them down her side to her hip and then lower. She sighed and threw her head back, giving herself up to the exquisite sensations surrounding her every fiber.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
LIZ FINDLEY WAS fuming. The entire rodeo crew—minus Scott and that tramp her father had hired—had returned yesterday, and there was still no sign of the other two yet today. She wasn’t stupid; she knew that Scott had a thing for her and that they had probably resolved any issues they’d had, including her roll in Scott’s past.
So much for Plan A, on to Plan B.
Scott still had feelings for her, she was sure of that. Not that she really cared one way or the other, but she knew that she could exploit any tenderness he still had to get what she wanted. And what Liz wanted was to get her hands on the ranch and sell it. She knew there was no way that Daddy would ever sell the ranch as long as the Chandlers were still working rodeos. She knew that he still thought of them as his own kids, and it infuriated her.
She’d had to share her father with them as kids, and while she admired her father for taking on his friend’s kids, she hated the connection that all three of them had with her Daddy. When he’d called her last winter to tell her about his stroke, he’d sworn her to secrecy. It was the first time since her mother had died that he’d ever shared something that was just between the two of them. She realized then how frail he’d become, and she was determined to make sure that he was able to take it easy. And none of the Chandlers were going to get in the way of her selling off the ranch and helping Daddy live a life he d
eserved—one without the Chandlers, where she could take care of him.
If she could just get him away from this miserable ranch and rodeos like the doctor had recommended, she would know that her efforts to impress him to prove that she was more worthy of his love than Scott were worth the sacrifices she would have to make. It had ripped her heart out when her father had taken Scott’s side after their breakup. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain—not that she would have told him the truth—before encouraging her to leave the ranch. It was Scott’s fault that she’d never had all of her father’s love, and she was intent on making him pay dearly.
She was going to destroy the one thing he loved most: the ranch. She was going to sell it off piece by piece to investors. She’d already had some incredible offers, and once the ranch was sold, she and Daddy could take the money and get as far away from here as possible—away from this place and the Chandlers—and maybe head to the coast. Let those three fend for themselves and stop relying on her father for everything. But her first goal was getting Scott to fall for her again.
Liz stepped in front of her mirror and surveyed her image. She had realized quickly that Scott’s flavor-of-the-month was going to be an irritation, but she hadn’t expected it to be this difficult. She was proving to be a sneakier adversary than Liz had expected. She wasn’t even sure what Scott saw in her.
Liz ran her hand through the highlighted blonde tresses at her forehead. He had always preferred blondes. In fact, he’d only dated one brunette that she’d heard of, and she’d kept close tabs on Scott over the years. She knew exactly which rodeos he was attending and who he was with at all times. She had enough girlfriends who rode barrels to be able to hear the latest gossip about Scott. From what she’d heard over the years, he was always a hot topic with a new girl every weekend.
She leaned closer toward the mirror, squinting at her reflection. She might have a couple of small wrinkles around the corners of her eyes from being in the sun. She would have to get those taken care of the next time she was near Los Angeles for the circuit finals. She smoothed out the Western shirt she had tucked into her fitted jeans. She was slim and long-legged, but well endowed, which intimidated most girls, but Scott had always preferred her body shape to that of the shorter, curvier girls. What was it that he saw in this girl Daddy had hired?