Bad News Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He dipped his head, kissing her neck. “Because you’re so damn sexy I can hardly stand it.”

  “But you’ve seen a lot of naked women.” She didn’t feel jealous about it. She was about to benefit from the fact that he’d seen and touched a lot of naked women, so she was hardly going to be shrewish about it now.

  “But I’ve never seen you.” His words moved over her like warm oil, soothing and arousing all at once. “And believe me, I’ve put quite a lot of thought into this over the past few days.”

  “You have?”

  A wicked smile curved his lips and he reached down, unfastening the button on her jeans, the sound stark and loud in the bedroom. “Hell yeah.”

  She didn’t really know what to say to that. So she didn’t say anything. Instead she relished the slow torture of him lowering the zipper on her pants, tugging them down her legs and throwing them down onto the floor.

  She wasn’t wearing anything now but her underwhelming white seamless bra and matching cotton panties. There was nothing exceptional about the cut of said panties. They provided full coverage, both in the front and the back, and while she was somewhat grateful for that considering there were some scary things involved in being naked in front of someone for the first time, she was also aware that men didn’t exactly get hot and bothered over demure underwear that covered more than your average bikini.

  But judging by the blue flame burning in Jack’s eyes, he wasn’t really bothered by the style of her underwear.

  “Told you I didn’t have any sexy underwear,” she said, her tone apologetic.

  “But you’ve got a hell of a sexy body,” he said, resting his hand on her rib cage, then slowly letting his fingertips drift down her torso, tracing the line of her slight curves down to her hips, down to those nondescript panties. “I’ve been torturing myself wondering about your shape. Wondering what your breasts look like. Damn, baby, you hide yourself well.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Nothing special.”

  “I’m going to be the judge of that. And one thing I need you to be really sure of is that I’m not comparing you to anyone else. I can’t even remember anyone else right now.”

  His words quieted some of her nerves, identifying the source in a way she hadn’t been able to and cutting them off at the root. There was no room for doubt. Not when the way he looked at her proved the truth of every word he’d just spoken.

  He pressed his forefinger to where bra cup met skin and traced a slow line upward until he reached the strap. He curved his finger around the fabric, drawing it down her shoulder. Then he repeated the motion on the other side.

  He looked at her, lowered his head, his tongue following the path his finger had just taken. Instinctively, she reached for him, threading her fingers through his hair, holding him tightly to her as he teased her with his mouth.

  He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and sending it the way of her jeans and T-shirt.

  Raising his head, he looked at her, a ragged breath shaking his frame. “Katie,” he said, his tone reverent as he lifted his hand to cup her breast, slowly sliding his thumb over her nipple.

  Pleasure so sharp it cut like a knife sliced down through her. She wanted to close her eyes, to block out some of the sensory input battering like a ship against the rocks, but she was desperate to watch his face. Desperate to hold on to every moment.

  Because this was her moving forward. Running forward full tilt.

  And she didn’t want to let one moment blur, let one escape without turning it over, fully experiencing it.

  “Beautiful.” He cupped her with his other hand, teasing both tightened buds with slow precision. Then he bent, drawing her deeply into his mouth, pulling a harsh, hoarse cry from somewhere deep inside her.

  She worked her hips in time with the expert rhythm of his tongue, trying to ease the cavernous ache that was building, building, building between her legs.

  He shifted his denim-clad thigh and she rocked against him, a white-metal burn scorching through her, internal muscles tightening.

  She reached out toward his belt buckle again, and this time he didn’t stop her. This time he let her get it undone, let it hang loose while she went after the button on his jeans.

  But from her position it was awkward, and after watching her struggle for a few moments, he relieved her of her burden. He stood and shucked his jeans, keeping his eyes trained on her as he straightened and pushed his underwear down along with them.

  She was in entirely new territory now. She’d never before seen a naked, aroused man.

  But she had been right in her theory. Jack had nothing to worry about, because she liked it. She liked it a hell of a lot.

  Although along with the liking came the return of her nerves. Because big. He was very big. Not that she had any basis of comparison, but at the moment she felt she didn’t need one.

  He leaned forward, grabbing hold of her hips and dragging her down toward the edge of the bed, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, tearing them from her body.

  “I’m all out of patience.” He adjusted her position, drawing her even nearer to the edge of the mattress, then lowered himself to his knees, turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

  Her stomach tightened, every muscle in her body tensing as she waited for him to make his next move. He cupped the most feminine part of her with his large, warm hand, parting her slick flesh, his breath fanning over sensitive skin as he moved closer.

  She curled her fingers around the quilt, bracing herself. But her feeble attempt at preparing had been for naught. Because there was no preparing for the extreme altering sensation of Jack’s tongue over the part of her that had been screaming for his touch.

  He tasted her, slow and deep, thorough. It was so strange and alien, something she had never even fantasized about and yet something he had known she had wanted. In spite of the fact she hadn’t known she’d wanted it.

  He continued to lavish attention on her with his tongue as he shifted his position slightly, his finger teasing the entrance to her body. She swore and arched her hips, pressing herself more firmly against him, demanding more.

  He pushed his finger deep inside of her, testing her, working it in and out of her slowly, the sensation new, joining a whole host of other new sensations that she hadn’t even begun to grow accustomed to before he added another.

  A second finger joined the first, slowly stretching her, uncomfortable where the first had been easy. But she realized what he was doing. What he was getting her ready for. And she was thankful, yet again, for his experience.

  Slowly, the discomfort faded and pleasure built inside of her. He increased the pressure of his tongue over that sensitive bundle of nerves and pushed her over the edge with effortless precision, her muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of sensation pounded over her.

  He withdrew from her, stood and walked over to the nightstand. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a strip of condoms. He tore one packet off the rest, then made quick work of getting the protection on.

  She was fascinated watching him, his strong, masculine hand rolling the latex over his thick erection. It was strange, incongruous and perfect seeing Jack in this context. She couldn’t look away.

  “Scoot up,” he said, his voice strained.

  She complied, her legs feeling a lot like wilted asparagus stems as she tried to will her trembling, useless muscles into doing her bidding.

  She lay back, her head rested on the pillow, her thighs parted slightly. She forgot to be embarrassed about the fact that she was naked in front of him. Really, how could she be embarrassed about anything now that he had put his mouth there. Now that he had tasted her in the most intimate way possible.

 
Well, she supposed she could be. But it would be a little silly.

  She still hadn’t touched him in the way she wanted to. Still, she hadn’t put her mouth on him. She wanted to slow things down, ask for more. Because she was afraid this was all he would give her. And it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

  But before she could say anything, his body was covering hers, and he was kissing her deep, a reminder of her own pleasure flavoring his lips and tongue.

  He flexed his hips, the head of his arousal testing her, teasing her. The hollow ache was back, a new orgasm building inside of her already. Impossible, she would have said. But Jack seemed fully capable of accomplishing the impossible where her body was concerned.

  Abruptly, he ended the kiss, lowered his head, buried it in the curve of her neck as he moved, wrapping one hand around both of her wrists and pushing them up over her head while he thrust deep inside of her.

  She couldn’t hold back the sharp, shocked sound that was forced from her in time with that deep thrust. She’d heard years of horse riding made this kind of thing easier, but if this was easier, she was going to thank God for her horse habit every day for the next five years.

  Because easier or not, it still hurt like hell.

  She screwed her eyes shut tight and waited. She couldn’t hear anything but his ragged breathing in her ear and her thundering heartbeat echoing in her head.

  Slowly, she became less aware of the pain between her legs, more aware of the viselike grip he had on her wrists, the pain there slowly intensifying as the pain at the place they were joined lessened. As though it was simply draining from one part of her body to another.

  She opened her eyes and met his fierce gaze. She nodded slowly, answering the unspoken question she saw there.

  It was all he needed. He withdrew slightly, then thrust back home. She gasped, but this time not because of pain. He went slowly at first, allowing her to get used to the sensation of being filled by him. Until she went way past being used to it and crossed over into needing it, craving it.

  She arched toward him, resenting the fact that he was holding her hands captive, but he didn’t respond to the clear physical request that he release his hold. Instead he bent his head to her breast, tracing the outline of her nipple with his tongue before scraping it lightly with his teeth.

  Jack was in her. Deep inside her. And it wasn’t just pleasure overtaking her but the unending sense of being part of another person. Of him being part of her.

  Not just anyone. Jack.

  Always Jack.

  She’d had no idea. She’d really had no idea.

  He kept full and total control of the movements, keeping her pinned, trapped by his strong hold and the weight of his body. It was maddening, drawing out the building pleasure to almost unbearable intensity. With his other hand he traced the outline of her lips, her jaw, sliding his hand down, curving it around her throat, the subtle show of his strength and power sending another electric surge of pleasure through her.

  Then he moved on to her breasts, her waist, her hip, where he gripped her tight, pulling her hard against him in time with his thrusts. He was going to kill her. He was honest-to-God going to kill her with a promise of release not delivered, keep her poised on the edge forever.

  She wiggled, managing to break free of his hold. She cupped his face, pulling his head down to hers, kissing him deep before moving her hands down to his muscular shoulders, over his back, down to his ass. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it, not yet. Later. She would look later. For now, she would just feel and enjoy.

  Something about her exploration tipped him over the edge, and she could feel the moment his tenuous control snapped. His movements were no longer measured, his thrusts no longer even. It became wild and desperate, the ride of a cowboy hanging on for dear life.

  She moved in time with him, pushing them both closer to the brink. He pressed his forehead against hers, a long, low growl rumbling through his body, the clear sign of his desperation ramping up hers.

  If there had ever been any doubt that he wanted this, if there had ever been any fear that he was only doing this to keep her out of trouble, because he felt sorry for her, that growl effectively frightened it off into the very far distance. It was raw; it was real. And it was all for her.

  Then he froze above her. She could feel him pulsing deep inside of her. And it was as if the heavens had broken open inside of her, pouring forth torrential downpours of pleasure. She had a thunderstorm raging beneath her skin. Heavy and electric, loud. Roaring through her with the force of a tornado. Powerful, devastating and no less destructive.

  All she could do was cling to him. All they could do was cling to each other until it passed. All she could do was hope they both survived the aftermath.

  * * *

  JACK WAS PRETTY sure he was dying. At the very least, he had set a foot on the road that would lead to death the moment he had touched Kate. Because if Connor and Eli ever found out, they would kill him. Spectacularly. Slowly.

  A damn harsh truth to have to consider with the flavor of Kate still on his tongue. But it was a factor in this whole thing.

  “Just a second,” he said, pushing up from the bed, trying to ignore the chill on his skin caused by separating from her beautiful body.

  His questions had been answered. Her breasts were just the right size to fit in his palm, her nipples a pale pink. Perky. That was his official description. Her waist ran more straight up and down than hourglass, her skin paler, softer than he had imagined it would be. Her hips were perfect. Perfect for holding on to while he slid into her hot, tight body.

  He was getting hard again. He was such a bastard.

  He turned away from her, walking into the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. He discarded the condom and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Yeah, he was still himself. And he’d just taken a good long look at Kate, so he was certain she was still herself.

  And he had just taken her virginity. He felt a little bit sick.

  He walked back out into the bedroom, and Kate was still lying there at the center of the bed, completely naked. She sat up when he returned, dark hair sliding over her shoulders, only part of it remaining in a now nearly wrecked braid. She looked up at him, questions in her dark eyes. Questions he knew damn well he didn’t have answers to.

  Because he didn’t know much of anything right now. He really knew only one thing for certain. He was one hell of a son of a bitch. She was so young. An entire decade younger than he was. So much more in terms of experience.

  “Well,” he started.

  At the same time she said, “So...”

  He stopped talking and decided to wait for her. Because hell if he knew what to say.

  “Should I go?” she asked.

  She looked so vulnerable. So young.

  “Don’t go,” he said. But he knew even as he said the words that he couldn’t allow himself to touch her again. Shame was crawling over his skin like ants, unfamiliar and unpleasant.

  Bad blood. Dirty.

  Oh yeah, he’d more than proven that.

  He bent down and retrieved his T-shirt from the floor and tossed it over to Kate. “Why don’t you put this on?”

  She obeyed, even though she looked confused while complying. Though the sight of his white T-shirt settled over her bare curves didn’t do much to quiet the arousal that was roaring through his veins like a beast. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric. And now he knew what they looked like. Now he knew what she looked like all over. And he would never be able to forget.

  He wasn’t about to compound his sins by sending her out into the cold or by touching her again. Those two things were kind of at odds, since he had proven he did a lousy job of keeping his hands off Kate when she was anywhere near him.

  “I have s
ome things to do. Before I come to bed.”

  Her eyes got larger. “Oh.” She scrambled to the edge of the bed, swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. “I thought we might...talk, maybe?”

  His chest got tighter, breathing almost impossible now. “Later,” he said. He had no intention of talking to her later. He had every intention of avoiding his bedroom until she was asleep.

  She frowned. “If you have something to say, you should just say it.”

  “Sometimes, Katie, things need to be left unsaid.”

  She looked hurt. Confused. Shit, he was a bastard. “We never leave things unsaid.”

  “Yeah, well, until tonight we never had sex before, either.”

  “I would have thought we would talk more now that we’ve seen each other naked.”

  He tried to force the corners of his mouth to lift into a smile. He imagined it was closer to a grimace. “That’s not how it works.”

  One side of her mouth pulled sideways, straight across. He imagined that was her attempt at a smile. Then she lifted her shoulder, as if shrugging off his words of more experienced wisdom. She reached up, sliding her hand around to the back of his head while she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him.

  And he was weak. Just a man. So he let her. More than let her—he wrapped his arm around her waist, held her to him for a moment, relishing the feel, the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “I’ll be here,” she said, getting back into bed, slipping beneath the covers.

  And he would be anywhere but there, because his resistance was low. “Get some sleep.”

  He walked out of the bedroom and down the hall, down the stairs. He didn’t have anything to do. It was almost 10:00 p.m. and all he wanted to do was climb into bed with the soft, beautiful woman upstairs.

  But the soft, beautiful woman upstairs was someone he never should have touched in the first place.

  Dammit. Why had his conscience shown up now? He’d been more than willing to let it all burn earlier. It should have arrived before he’d taken Kate to bed or not at all.