Cowboy Come Home

by Janette Kenny

  The words died in her throat as his mouth closed over one breast and suckled hard. Her back bowed and her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him, holding words back that had no place here.

  She couldn’t let anything interfere with this moment, not when she’d relived it countless times. She’d convinced herself that the memory was better than reality, but she had been wrong.

  She could almost convince herself that he cared deeply for her. Loved her. But he didn’t.

  Don’t think about it. Just feel.

  Don’t spoil the moment with the truth, for nothing can be gained by it now. It didn’t matter how it happened. Whose fault it was. It was over. Over.

  “So good, so good,” she said as the pressure inside her built until she thought her skin would split.

  “It gets better,” he said, his fingers tugging her drawers down and his mouth following.

  Her skin burned but from a different fire than before. He grasped her bare hips and pulled her forward.

  His palms skimmed up her bared legs to the place that wept for his possession. “We’ve never done this in the dark.”

  No, it’d always been light or twilight, stolen moments when she sneaked to the barn, when her daddy was busy or away. She’d been embarrassed to tears the first time, but the intense pleasure overrode modesty.

  And then he was kissing her there, his tongue a blade of fire that shot heat through her. Her back bowed and her hands dropped to his shoulders, her fingers digging in tight. If she lost her hold on him, she might splinter off into the sky.

  Each thrust of his tongue and intimate stroke of his fingers pushed her to the pinnacle, a bright orb that was warm and welcoming and promised an end to her confusion, her turmoil.

  He’d taught her this, made her mourn the loss of him, this wickedly intimate closeness. In this she surrendered to him.

  The admission struck like lightning and was gone, for she simply couldn’t think any longer. Just feel his incredible mouth and fingers playing her.

  She arched her back, desperate to get closer, to touch his heart as he had hers. Brilliant lights flared behind her eyes as she drifted upward on a tight, hot spiral. Her entire body convulsed in delicious release.

  His name exploded from her, her fingers clutching at him, trying to pull him closer. She held on, for it had never been this intense before.

  Strong arms banded around her and crushed her to his bare chest as she surrendered to the last tremors of her release. This press of bare skin to bare skin was what she’d dreamed about, what she wanted.

  He dropped backward, falling onto the bedroll, taking her down with him. She sprawled on top of him, her mouth seeking his in a kiss that went on and on until they both gasped for breath.

  “Now I have you where I want you,” she said between kisses, as her hands skimmed down his slick chest to the buttons on his jeans.

  “Want me how?” he asked in a lazy drawl that made her smile. “Naked? On my back?”

  “Yes.” She slipped open the first button with ease, then fumbled a bit on the second. “Yes!”

  He groaned and stiffened. “Easy, darlin’. I’m full to bursting from wanting you.”

  She smiled at that and pressed a kiss on his throat before levering herself up to straddle him. She scraped her fingernails down his chest and under his waistband.

  “I’ll be gentle with you,” she said.

  That dredged a chuckle from him until her knuckles brushed against his arousal. The ache deep inside her doubled, making her tremble.

  It’d be easy to let him have his way now. To make love with him and end this torture.

  But this was her chance to do what she’d been too shy to do before. To make him yield to her. To be the aggressor. To force him to surrender his body to her even though he kept his heart locked.

  She couldn’t think about that now, for it would only cast a pall over this moment with him. She’d waited too long for him to return. To have him like this again.

  “You taste good,” she said as she dropped kisses on his hard nipples, making his breath hiss between his teeth. She shimmied down his body, kissing him, reveling in his salty taste. “Shuck your jeans, cowboy.”

  He lifted his hips and gave them a shove. She rocked back on her heels and pulled them and his drawers down his long legs.

  She pushed the clothes aside and ran her hands up his calves sprinkled with crisp hair, wishing again it wasn’t so dark. Not that she needed light.

  She knew the hair was black. Knew it grew sparse on his chest and arrowed down to a thatch at his groin.

  Her palms skimmed up the insides of his thighs, hesitating as she felt the ridge of scars that hadn’t been there before. The torture of being dragged, she reasoned, sliding up his long, powerful legs, fitting between his thighs, hoping this would take away his pain.

  She’d known what to expect when they’d made love the first time, for she’d found a book of her mother’s and read it cover to cover. But the author of Eve’s Daughter warned that sex was for procreation. That seeking orgasms would lead to a nervous disorder.

  The book was too vague and full of misconceptions to be any further use to her. So she was only going on instinct here. Instinct and strong desire.

  “If I do something wrong—”

  “You know there is no right or wrong in this,” he said, his voice thick now. “But you don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to.” And before he could talk her out of it, she took him in hand and guided him to her mouth.

  Her hands stroked down his hardened length and found the soft sack. She cupped it gently with one hand, stroking it with her thumb.

  Her tongue laved the tip of his shaft, marveling at the velvety folds that became more rigid in her hands. The salty essence of him that left her thirsting for more.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and bucked. “Good God, woman, you’ll be the death of me yet. But I couldn’t think of a better way to die.”

  She understood that completely, for when he’d loved her with his mouth, she’d thought she’d splinter apart from the overwhelming pleasure exploding in her.

  That’s what she wanted him to feel. That this moment with her was special. That if he looked deep enough within his heart he’d find that he loved her.

  “I can’t take any more,” he rasped, trying to pull her back up his chest.

  But she held tight, emboldened by the power she had over this strong man who always held a part of himself back. She was determined to expose him, to get him to let down his guard if only this once.

  She felt his body tense even more, felt a tremor rip through him, and gained satisfaction knowing she’d given him this. His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her to him, clinging like she had when she feared she’d be flung into the sky beyond the stars.

  She took him in, surprised at the workings of his body as well. Her heart warmed, for in that spate of time when he was caught in his climax, she held him in her arms, protecting him, loving him.

  When it was over and his big body relaxed, she kissed her way up his chest. Her head rested over his heart, and she smiled at the strong, sure beat that kept time with her own.

  “Come here,” he said, dragging her up until their mouths met.

  This kiss was unlike any they’d had. Tender. Passionate.

  It was as if his kiss was saying what was in his heart, saying words that she feared she’d never hear from him. Yes, she was likely deluding herself, but she held fast to the fantasy because she wanted it so very much.

  Then the kiss changed again, becoming bolder, stroking her until she writhed atop him. “Yes,” she moaned against his mouth, groping for his length.

  She wanted him in her now, but he seemed in no hurry to oblige her. “Slow down,” he said. “We’ve got all night.”

  That was certainly true, yet she felt a desperation to make love to him now. “I want this more than once. I want to make love with you throughout the night so I can remember every
second.”

  “I’m not leaving again. Not unless you boot me out.” He stroked a hand down her spine to cup her bottom, fingers splayed to hold her, caress her. “Is that what you’re fixing to do because I won’t tell you pretty words that mean nothing?”

  She pressed her palm over his heart. “I know you feel something for me. Something good.”

  His big hands cupped her hips and yanked her against his hot, hard length. “That’s what I feel. Lust. I want you, and you want me.”

  “Yes, but love is stronger. You’re in my heart—”

  His mouth captured hers again, smothering the words. She struggled to pull free, to hold on to her thought, to tell him she loved him, to tell him about the child they’d created in love and lost. But his sensual assault on her was too powerful for her to resist.

  There was no urgency. She could tell him tomorrow or the next day.

  With her mind free of that worry, she succumbed with a groan, kissing him back. His hands coaxed her legs apart though she needed little urging.

  A stroke of his fingers over the moist, sensitive cleft between her legs made her buck against him. “Don’t make me wait.”

  He didn’t. His hands lifted her hips. “Guide me home.”

  Home. She smiled, for when they connected as only a man and woman could, she felt at home too. Protected. Safe. She felt the rightness of it seep into her soul.

  Another groan ripped from him as he held her there, making her take him in slowly when she wanted all of him now. Wanted everything he had to give her.

  “So good,” she said as her body stretched to take all of him.

  “I ain’t complaining,” he said, voice choked now.

  Then he started moving in her, deep, strong thrusts that set every nerve in her on fire. Coherent thought skittered away on an exhaled breath.

  She held onto him as he took her into the place only they’d been together. A place where fear didn’t exist. Where he was her anchor in this world and beyond.

  “Trey,” she gasped as she soared past the stars to that place of contentment that only he could take her to.

  Distantly she heard her name on his breath, a reverent whisper that touched her more deeply than anything ever could. She jerked once more as stars exploded around her, clinging to him, feeling his heart thundering against hers.

  She collapsed on him, spent in body and mind. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that she never wanted this moment with this man to end.

  Trey had always banked on two things that would knock him out. Getting sloppy-assed drunk and sex.

  The first had never failed him, though as he’d gotten older and wiser, he’d refrained from that particular endeavor. Sex, though, he could count on every time.

  Or had been able to until he’d met Daisy Barton.

  He had attributed his inability to doze off after he made love with her the first time to an innate sense of survival. He sure as hell hadn’t wanted to get caught buck naked with the boss’s equally naked daughter in his arms.

  All the stolen moments with her after that he painted with the same excuse. Getting nookie on the side did have its risks.

  But there was no accounting for why he was lying here with her snuggled up against him while he was wide awake.

  No reason except the bald fact that she wanted something from him that he didn’t think he’d be able to give. He didn’t know what love was. Didn’t understand how a man felt if afflicted with the emotion.

  He’d shared a strong bond with his foster brothers, but he’d never loved them. He respected Reid and Dade. He knew he could count on them to be there for him through thick and thin.

  At least it’d been that way for a dozen or more years until Reid had turned on them.

  How the hell could he make her understand that he’d be there for her until she drew her last breath? That she could depend on him to protect her and pleasure her?

  He didn’t know. She wanted those flowery words. He could promise her anything tangible. He’d be at her side always. But he couldn’t tell her something that didn’t exist—at least for him.

  He skimmed his palm down her bare back to the inviting curve of her hip, certain he’d never known a more perfectly formed woman. Never met one who fit him like a glove until Daisy.

  A contented sound escaped her in sleep to torment him, for that pleased rest she enjoyed was eluding him now. She had him between a rock and a hard place.

  He gathered her close and buried his face in her silken hair. She needed him. Needed a man to guard her back.

  She surely didn’t want Dade telling her what to do. And wouldn’t that be one helluva row when he learned Daisy had grit?

  Nope, she wanted Trey to be her husband, the man she leaned on in hard times, the one she clung to when wounds needed to be salved. The man who would show her pleasure the best he knew how for as long as he drew breath.

  But she didn’t want him unless he loved her. Shit, he couldn’t lie to her. But the truth would have her walking away, and he couldn’t let that happen either.

  She was his. Had been his since the first time he took her innocence. Why couldn’t she see that? Why couldn’t she be happy with what he could give her?

  Women! Hellfire, what was he going to do with Daisy Barton?

  Daisy woke with the first pale fingers of dawn that stretched into the smoky sky and filled the adobe with a warm glow. She loved this time of morning when the air was cool.

  She loved this morning more because she finally awoke with Trey beside her. He looked younger in sleep. Untroubled. Handsome.

  His body was honed. Lean. And horribly scarred.

  Whitish strips banded his hips and thighs, though the left side looked worse. The marks from being dragged behind a horse. Left for dead.

  Like Sam Weber. That man had died, but somehow Trey had survived.

  My God, how he must have suffered!

  She eased from the bedroll and quietly dressed. Everything between them was still so much of a jumble.

  She loved him. Always would.

  He wouldn’t admit to any tender feelings, yet every kiss, every caress, left her feeling wanted. Cherished.

  Now he wanted to marry her.

  If only he’d proposed to her instead of suggesting in a roundabout way that they marry.

  If only it was for love, but she knew his offer was based on two reasons. He wanted the land that passed to her. And he likely felt duty bound to marry her because she was Dade Logan’s sister.

  His loyalty to her brother was admirable but misplaced in this. Trey had to want her more than anything. Not because of the land. Not because of who she was.

  Not even because the world stopped twirling when they made love.

  She slipped from the cabin and attended to her needs behind the sage nearest the adobe. This land was unforgiving, never bending. She’d grown up here knowing no different, yet the past few days living at the Circle 46 had been a welcome change.

  “What am I going to do, Daddy?”

  Like she had all the mornings spent at the JDB since his death, she walked toward the fenced cemetery on the knoll. Without the barn and the house, the land looked more bleak than ever.

  The sun sat on the horizon like an arc of white fire by the time she reached the cemetery. She dropped to her knees at his tombstone and stared at the inscription.

  Beloved husband to Corinne and loving father to Daisy.

  She hadn’t realized how true those words were until she had learned her daddy’s secret. Jared Barton had taken in an orphan and raised her as his own, all because his wife pined so for a child.

  Her lost memory had been an asset to him as well, for Daisy had never questioned her paternity. She never had a reason to do so.

  She’d had a good life as the Bartons’ daughter. Spoilt. Her daddy coddled her. Protected her the best he could.

  She’d had a carefree life. She’d been loved. God only knew what would have become of her if Jared Barton ha
dn’t come into her life.

  An image of cowering in a carriage with an austere man flashed in and out of her memory. She tried to catch it, to examine it, but it was gone.

  She shook her head, wondering what mysteries her memory still held. Wondering if there’d be more secrets that would come to life and send her world tipping on its end again.

  “Oh, Daddy, why didn’t you teach me how to run this ranch?” she asked and then laughed wryly. “I know. There was no need. You aimed to marry me off to Kurt. He’d pick up where you left off. He’d take care of me.”

  But she couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love. Wouldn’t marry a man when she was carrying another’s baby.

  Her hand stole to her belly, and her eyes drifted shut. She’d never been afraid of her daddy, but she’d feared telling him the truth about her and Trey. But even before she’d known she was with child, she’d known she had to tell him the truth because she couldn’t go through with a loveless marriage.

  “I rehearsed how to tell you so many times,” she said. “There just wasn’t any easy way.”

  So she had just told him straight out that she wouldn’t marry Kurt. That she loved Trey. That they’d become lovers and she wanted to marry the cowboy. And then she had braced herself for his explosion of anger.

  It’d been a terrible thing to witness. She’d never been afraid of her daddy before, but she’d cowered that day as he ranted and raved and heaped invectives on Trey March.

  Later, her daddy had been her silent supporter when she’d told Kurt that she didn’t want to marry him. Kurt had begged her to reconsider, begged her father to force her to do as promised, but her daddy had remained her champion.

  “Sorry, my friend. It’s Daisy’s choice,” her daddy had said, and Kurt had left the house in a red-faced huff.

  Then her daddy had vowed to find Trey and drag his ass back here. A shotgun wedding had loomed in her future then, weeks before she’d known she was pregnant.

  But Trey had vanished. Day after day, she had gone to the hayloft and clung to bittersweet memories.