12 Borrowing Trouble

by Becky McGraw

  Carrie Collins wanted emotions. He would give it to her. But she was right, she wouldn’t hurt him or leave him. This was a one-time thing, because he would be the one leaving. His heart jerked in his chest, and he swallowed hard. A shuddering sigh shook his body. “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said with a laugh, as he sat up to toe off his boots, before shoving his jeans down his legs.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, I think you know what to do, cowboy,” she said leaning forward to kiss the spot between his pecs. She stayed there a moment then slid her arms under his back to hug him tight. “Just show me how you feel in there. I hear that heart of yours. I know you have one,” she mumbled against his chest.

  Something broke loose inside of him, and with a growl, Dylan’s arm swooped out to circle her waist. He rolled her onto the bed, trapping her legs with his upper body. He licked her belly, and she giggled. His taste buds went into overload, and he devoured her skin in open mouth kisses up to the valley between her breasts. He was breathing hard by the time he lifted his head to look at her. “You are a cheater,” he growled.

  The playful light left her eyes, and she sobered. “I don’t cheat. You are only the second man I’ve ever been with.”

  That wasn’t what he meant. He meant wearing that damned edible body powder was cheating, because he couldn’t resist her, and she probably realized that. She took it in another direction though. One that shocked him into asking, “Really?”

  “Really,” she confirmed. “This whirlwind, temporary fling thing isn’t really me. I’m a one-man kind of woman. For some reason with you that doesn’t matter.”

  You could be that one man, if you wanted.

  Those unspoken words floated around in his head then speared his brain. He didn’t want. She might be a one-man kind of woman, but he knew he wasn’t a one-woman kind of man. Dylan liked variety, excitement. He wasn’t a settling kind of man. She was barking up the wrong tree there with him. He’d told her that. That wasn’t changing because of her, he was still leaving. And he was done talking. “Don’t talk, just feel,” he growled as he sucked one of her breasts into his mouth, and pulled hard.

  Her body tensed and she moaned as she arched into him. “Mmmm…” she mewled, as his hand cupped her other breast, and he raked his thumb over her nipple.

  A tremor vibrated through her, and Dylan smiled against her skin. This woman was so damned responsive. He fucking loved it. With a nip to her breast he moved up to his knees to stare down at her. She met his eyes with her sex-drugged, needy gaze, looking a little put out that he’d stopped. Dylan wasn’t stopping, he hadn’t even gotten started yet.

  “Scoot up, baby,” he said pushing her hips upward. She moved closer to the headboard. Dylan squatted to slide his hands under her thighs to lift her. He sat, took her calves to put them over his shoulders, then smiled. Her breath hitched as he lifted her beautiful pink folds toward his mouth. “Do you use that powder down here too?” he asked and a tremor of anticipation ripped through him. He was about to get the answer to the question he’d had since he met this woman.

  Carrie nodded, her chin tucked into her chest, her fists curled into the comforter.

  “We’re out here alone. Feel free to make all the noise you want to make,” he said with a grin, as he lowered his mouth to her. Vanilla wrapped around him like a warm, sexy blanket, as he turned his face to the side to kiss his way up the inside of her left thigh to her folds. His tongue took a long, slow lick across her opening up to her clit, and she whimpered. He took a minute there to make a few slow rotations, and she mewled.

  Dylan wanted to hear her scream. “You’re too quiet, baby. Let’s see if we can get you to make a little racket,” he said with a chuckle. “I like those little sounds you make, but I want more.”

  He leaned forward and just breathed in her heady scent for a few seconds, before he nibbled her. Liquid anticipation flowed through his veins, as he waited until her breathing got heavier. So heavy she practically heaved for every breath. His own breath wasn’t coming easily right then. He could smell her excitement, and he was as hard as he’d ever been in his life.

  Her eyes drifted shut and her body relaxed. He sucked her hard into his mouth and she went rigid in his arms, let out a gurgling cry as her hips shot upward. Dylan clamped his arms around her waist to hold her there. That was more like it, he thought, as he sucked harder, added flicks of his tongue across the swollen nub. Savored her taste on his tongue, amping up his own pleasure. Smoothing his hands up her slim belly up to her breasts, he cupped them. Ran circles around her distended nipples in tandem with the flicks of his tongue over her. He pinched them at the same time he nipped her clit, and Carrie shattered.

  Her body shook the bed, shook him, as he held the pressure, helping her extend the climax. Her delicious screams, broken by pants for breath, bounced off the bedroom walls to echo in his skull. Her beautiful face flushed as she came hard. Dylan had never seen anything so amazing. She appeared surprised, relieved almost, in delicious agony. After one more violent tremor, and a hoarse scream, they became intermittent, then stopped.

  Her body went lax, and he eased her hips down to the bed, then slid out from under her to lay beside her. He noticed the tear tracks at the corner of her eyes and swiped them away with his thumbs. She heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, then opened her eyes to look at him. A slow smile curved her full lips. “Wow,” she said on a breath.

  Wow was right. Dylan’s heart was probably beating as fast as he could see hers was in the space between her full breasts. His eyes tracked down her perfectly curved body to her red-tipped toes then streaked back to her mouth.

  “Kiss me, Carrie,” he said lowering his mouth to hers. “See how good you taste,” he murmured as he nipped her lower lip. A tremor rocked her, and she curled her arm around his neck, turning her body into his. Her fingers shoved into his hair to cradle his skull, as she licked his lips and moaned. He opened his mouth, and her tongue teased his, as she pressed her soft breasts into his chest. “Show me how to make love to you, Carrie. Show me what you want, baby,” he murmured.

  She pushed on his shoulder to gently force him to the mattress, then leaned over him to kiss him again, as she straddled him. Her wet folds slicked over his stomach and he groaned. She was so fucking wet, from his mouth and her climax, he knew he could just slide right up inside her and come. He wanted more.

  “Make love to me, Carrie,” he moaned when she pulled back for a breath.

  She held his gaze, as she scooted down his body to settle herself on top of his cock. Bracing with her hands on his abs, she slid her wetness down his length and back up. Her opening settled over his head, and wet heat surrounded him. She wiggled her hips in slow gyrations, and his balls tightened.

  He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in. “If you want more, you better not do that,” he growled. Dylan felt like he was about to come like a teenager, before he even got inside of her.

  “Oh, I want more,” she said, her voice hoarse. She lifted and reached between them to position him, and Dylan sucked in a sharp breath as she took him partially inside her body. The suctioning sound sent darts of fire through him to lodge in his midsection.

  She just stayed there, hovering over him, as her body pulsated around him. Frustration built with every second that ticked by, then the urge to be all the way inside her hit him like a hammer in the chest. He grabbed her hips and pushed upward, sighing when he was finally fully inside her warmth. Her nails curled into his stomach as she leaned her head back to moan.

  Carrie said she wanted to make love to him, like it was something completely different than sex. But this was no different than sex. It didn’t feel any different to him, except he knew this woman a little better than most he had sex with, cared about her and her feelings more.

  That’s the only reason he agreed to this.

  “What now?” he grated when she just sat there staring at him. Holding him inside of her. Not moving. He needed her to move. His body was scre
aming for release.

  Carrie smiled, and picked up one of his hands. She brought it to her mouth and kissed his palm, then laced her fingers through his. She picked up his other hand and did the same, then turned their hands so they were palm to palm. Something shifted in his chest, a melting sensation worked through his bones. She lifted her hips, sliding almost off of him and sighed as she sank slowly back down. Her hazel eyes met his and there was a softness there he’d never seen before.

  Dylan felt like he could almost see into her soul, knew exactly how she was feeling. A buzzing, electrical charge shot through his palm to zap him in the chest. The charge traveled down his body to where their bodies were connected. His dick jerked inside of her, and she gasped, biting her lower lip. The desire to kiss those beestung lips right then, devour them, was so strong, he grabbed her hips. In a flash, he had her on her back and his mouth covered hers. The want, the need, he felt for this woman was overwhelming.

  His brain felt short-circuited, as conflicting emotions fought for control there. Dylan moved his hips against her in a slow hypnotic rhythm, as he took his time kissing her, trying to sort them out. He smoothed his hand over her shoulder, down the curve of her waist, to gently hold her thigh to his side as he plunged into her body. She opened her legs wider, took him deeper, and he shoved his tongue inside her mouth.

  Her hands crept from his shoulders to circle his neck, and her nails dug into his back as she kissed him back for all she was worth. Carrie Collins definitely knew how to scramble his brain. Her hips moved with his and his fingers dug into her thigh and he lifted it higher, increased his pace as his breath came faster, and tension built in his muscles. Her body clenched him on each inward thrust, hugging him for just a second, before he pulled back out for another stroke.

  She pulled her mouth away and dragged in a breath, “Faster,” she urged with a kiss on his jaw, before she reclaimed his mouth. He was never so glad to hear that word in his life. He had been holding back, trying to anyway. The floodgate inside of him opened, he pushed to his knees, grabbed her thigh and slammed into her. Her inner muscles spasmed around him with each forceful thrust. Her mewls turned into whimpers, then intermittent wails, as she lifted her hips to meet his. Her eyes opened and they begged him to take her to paradise with him. The need he saw there was as intense as his own.

  He slowed down a bit, his hand found her clit and her body vibrated with her sigh. “Yes, take me with you, Dylan. Love me,” she begged, circling her hips in time with his hand.

  That was not something she had to beg for. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was already there. And no matter where he went from here on out, how far he ran, this woman would be with him in his heart. He’d let himself do the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life. Fall in love with caring, kind-hearted, cookie-baking Carrie Collins, a widow with two kids. A man couldn’t get any more tied down than that.

  He could if he had sex with her without protection.

  That thought hit him just as her body tensed and she screamed his name. It was too late to do a damned thing about anything though, because the tremors in her body dragged his own into the most incredible orgasm he’d had in his life.

  Dylan’s chest squeezed making it hard to drag in a breath, as her body clenched around him. They’d done it again. This time it was all his damned fault. She had mentioned the condoms, but his brain had been so scrambled he hadn’t given it a second thought. He had a feeling this time he wouldn’t be so lucky. But maybe he would be lucky. Maybe this woman and the big man upstairs knew exactly what they were doing to him.

  For the first time in his life, Dylan thought maybe it was time he slowed down. If Carrie was pregnant, that’s what he would do. Give up the rodeo, talk to Joel. Make sure his position at the ranch was secure, and he’d marry her.

  Marry her.

  Those words usually sent cold chills up his spine, but didn’t even make him flinch this time, as he collapsed on top of her and sighed. He rolled to the side, and tucked her into his side. He felt her smile against his skin, as she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, and threw her thigh over his. Panic raged inside of him, but he tried to talk himself down.

  There were a lot worse things that could happen to him than this. A lot worse that had happened in his life. This was nothing. He could deal with it. Would deal with it. But not unless he had to. Exhaustion pressed his body to the mattress, and his arm tightened around her.

  She sighed, and Dylan kissed the top of her hair, letting her vanilla scent calm him, as he closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t the ideal method of contraception, and he was willing to face the consequences if it didn’t work, but another prayer couldn’t hurt. There was still hope.

  Even though he felt for sure he’d used up any and all brownie points he might have had with God the last time, he had to try again. And remember to use a fricking rubber, if they had sex again.

  Please God, don’t let her be pregnant. I know I said this last time, but this time I promise I won’t be stupid again. And please let the doctor give me my release, so I’m not tempted to do it again.

  He sighed, then flinched. One more thing, Lord, if she is pregnant, please just let the baby be healthy, and help me be a good daddy.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The next afternoon, Dylan fought to control the anger burning inside of him. How in the hell had he slept through his appointment? This was all her fault. She should have just let him go to the doctor yesterday. Instead, she’d insisted he take her with him. Taking her to that trailer had been a mistake. She had worn him out, made him forget everything that was important. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms, gotten so comfortable holding her, he hadn’t woken up until the sun was going down. Totally inexcusable.

  Now the doctor couldn’t see him for three weeks. He was booked solid. Three freaking weeks. By then it would probably be too late to get any kind of job with the circuit this year, even shoveling shit. The season would be half over with. He was fucking stuck here until next year, because of her. He might be stuck forever if she was pregnant.

  Dylan was in a helluva fix. Because of her.

  God, please don’t let her be pregnant. That had become his mantra. The one he’d prayed hourly since he woke up yesterday evening. Hell, since he’d fucking met her. He was an idiot.

  He hefted another hay bale off the flatbed and tossed it on top of the stack beside the barn. He’d been working his ass off today to distract himself from his thoughts, from thinking about her. It hadn’t been easy. The guests were gone now, and the rest of the hands were getting ready to go out. The last thing he wanted to do was go out, be around more women. He had enough woman trouble without adding to it. The one who had totally messed up his head was baking in the kitchen of the big house. Like nothing had happened. He hadn’t gone up to the house this morning for breakfast. He’d eaten a bowl of cereal. He may never go up there again.

  Unless she was pregnant. He’d have to go up there then. And he’d have to answer to Joel and Terri. Fuck, he might even lose his job. Wouldn’t that be great? He’d have a kid to support, and no job to do it with. Panic squeezed his chest, as he lifted another bail and tossed it.

  “Hey, Dylan,” a familiar voice said and he spun around ready to blast whoever it was. Chris Collins stood there with this thumbs in his belt loops, looking a little insecure. The kid must’ve realized his mood, because he backed up a step. “I, ah, just got here. I wanted to say hey, and see if, ah, you had something you needed help with,” he stuttered.

  I want something in return. I want you to promise that you’ll stay the weekend at the ranch and talk to Chris. By having sex with Carrie Collins yesterday, he’d all but promised to do that. And it wasn’t the kid’s fault he was pissed at his mother.

  In the sour mood he was in, the last thing he wanted right now was company, but this kid needed his help. If he didn’t hit the lottery, he might wind up being the kid’s stepfather anyway. Dylan’s stomach lur
ched up to his throat. Yesterday the thought hadn’t seemed all that bad, but today, he couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen to him. Dylan pushed the corners of his mouth into what he hoped was a smile. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you help me finish unloading this hay? You can tell me how it’s going at New Hope.”

  Chris grabbed a bale by the wires, but Dylan covered his hand. “Wait!”

  Chris jumped back, looking at him like he was afraid he’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he said looking confused.

  “No, I just don’t want you cutting your hands,” Dylan explained and the kid’s face relaxed. “Go into the tack room and get a pair of gloves.”

  “Oh, okay,” Chris replied, turning toward the barn.

  Dylan stared behind him thinking. Something puzzled him about that kid. He seemed like a good kid, not the type who would be prone to trouble. He didn’t have the same bad attitude that Dylan had growing up, the bad ass chip on his shoulder that Dylan used to keep people away from him. To keep from being picked on, or getting his ass kicked at school.

  Chris was a lot calmer kid than Dylan had been. He didn’t seem to be a troublemaker. So why the hell was the kid always in trouble? That was the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. But getting it out of him would be like pulling teeth. Dylan knew this because he and the kid did share a close-mouthed nature. If he didn’t want to talk about something, he wouldn’t. His secrets were his own. He wasn’t a damned psychiatrist, but Dylan had a feeling that was the root of Chris’s trouble. There had to be a reason he was doing what he was doing.

  Chris came back with gloves on his hands, and grabbed a bail. With a grunt, he tossed it beside the stack to start another row. Dylan picked up a bail too, and carried it over to set it on top of his. “So, you like New Hope?” he asked.

  Chris shrugged, and hefted another bale. He shifted the weight of the bale, then tossed it but it landed short. “Sharon’s all right, but Billy is always on my ass,” he said as he walked over to pick it up again. He set it on top of Dylan’s bale, then walked back to the flatbed for another.