by Stacey Lynn
“Will do.” Asking for help was getting easier. Not that I needed to with Cooper here. “Drive safe.”
“Okay, Mom.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
As everyone headed to their cars, Cooper slid next to me and settled his hand on my hip. We both reeked like sweat and hay but it didn’t stop me from resting my head on his shoulder. It was just so damn easy to lean on him.
“Long day,” he said. Lights on the cars flashed on, one after the other, as they started up. “Good day, though. Can’t tell you how much fun I had.”
Baling hay was not fun. It was long and exhausting, but the company and the camaraderie made it enjoyable. “No kidding. Pie was scrumptious, too.”
He smacked his flat stomach. “Damn, that woman can bake.”
“Gloria wins blue ribbon awards every summer in the county and state fair for her fruit pies.”
“No shit?” He shifted and looked down at me, that now familiar look of awe and excitement in his eyes whenever I told him some small, typically boring fact about small-town life. “They give out awards for that?”
“They give out awards for everything. Pickles and other canned foods, handwork projects, cake decorating, artwork from kids to adults…”
“You had me at cake decorating. I gotta see this.”
I took a few animals, two of my female goats and sometimes one of my bulls to judging every year. I hadn’t planned on it this summer, but there was still time to submit a few entries. The fair hit Kansas every September.
“It’s after Labor Day,” I said, my mood dropping to the gravel at my feet.
“Hmm.” He kissed the top of my head and then rested his forehead in the same spot. “Maybe I can stay longer for it.”
Pleasant trails of happiness slid through me like glitter bombs had cracked open all over me. They dissipated just as quickly. It didn’t matter, he’d still leave afterward.
“We’ll see,” I said.
His hand at my hip squeezed. “We’ll see. What do we do now? Need any more help cleaning up?”
“The girls and I got it all. I need a bath and fresh glass of wine.”
His eyes lit at the mention of the bath. Even with the darkening sky turning shades of purples and oranges as the sun set behind the trees, his eyes were still a glorious color. “Bath and wine sound good to me.”
His voice carried the tone of intent and there was no missing it.
We’d kissed. We’d kissed a lot. He touched me a lot. I also liked it a lot when he touched me in the kitchen. And I wanted more of it, but I wasn’t the one to make that move.
“Just a bath, Rebecca. That’s all it has to be.”
I’d heard that before when he said he wanted to touch me. I’d thrilled at every touch he gave me that night and in the weeks since.
The reminder he was leaving, and now there was a possible end date flared into my brain, but I doused it with water.
This was what I’d proposed weeks ago and my proposal was still on the table as far as I was concerned. It was about time he picked it up.
“Bath and wine it is, then.”
His two, thick brows arched. “Yeah?”
I grabbed his hand and stepped backward up the steps, pulling him with me. “Oh, yeah.”
* * *
He held my hand through the house, letting me guide the way but making it clear he wasn’t letting go until I asked.
Hesitancy and nerves tumbled in my stomach, along with something warmer. It felt like desire and anticipation, two things I hadn’t experienced in so long, I thought I never would again. It made it difficult to know which sensation to choose.
There were too many battling for first place in my head, and in order to silence them, I started rambling.
“My parents renovated the upstairs when Jordan and I were at college. We used to have four bedrooms up here and only one bathroom, typical of older farmhouses. But they knocked out a bedroom in between their room and the bathroom, made the hall bath larger, and created one of their own.”
He smiled, and it was obvious he was humoring me. “Sounds lovely.”
It really was incredible. My parents hired a contractor from Kansas City to make sure it was done right, topnotch, and stepping inside had always made me feel like I’d reached a spa. There was a double-sized walk-in shower with jets that came at you from every which direction, a bonus when muscles were sore. Plus, my mom had been a bubble bath lover so the oversized tub had been situated directly beneath the window facing west. She could bathe and watch the sun set, and keep an eye on the cattle all at the same time.
When I came home from college on weekends, she had to pry me out of there. More than once Joseph had to do the same. Or join me.
Like Cooper was going to do now.
I was going to be naked with him.
His body against mine.
Holy crap. His soon-to-be ex was a supermodel. How could I compare?
He must have caught my thought because his hand gave mine a firm squeeze. “You still doing okay?”
I cleared my throat. Was I? No. Not in the physical sense. The woman he’d been married to for years was a supermodel for Christ’s sake. But beneath that ridiculous fear—Cooper had always shown he appreciated my body—was something different.
A warmth. An excitement pulsing at my center and spreading outward.
I was okay. Yeah. This was good. For once, feeling okay didn’t feel bad.
An odd combination I wasn’t used to.
“I’m good.” I attempted a reassuring smiling, turning to glance at him over my shoulder, but it must have failed.
His brows knitted together and he stopped just outside the threshold to my bedroom. He pulled his hand from mine and cupped my cheek, his smile soft, eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“What is it?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
“I’ll let you run the water and get ready.”
“I thought—”
“I do want. Trust me. I also think you need a minute to make sure it’s what you want. Go start the tub, climb in, relax. I’ll go get the wine you wanted and make sure the house is locked up.”
He was giving me an out I could take in a millisecond. He’d never been more attractive to me.
“But—”
“You want me to come back and join you, leave the doors open. You want to be alone, close them, and I swear to you, I won’t be pissed or disappointed. Okay?”
It had to be impossible for a man to be so perfect. He could read me like a well-loved book. A ripple of something I hadn’t felt in a long time fell down my spine, warming me in all the right places.
“No?”
His lips twitched. “I take that back. I’ll be disappointed, but it won’t change a thing.”
I laughed quietly. He always knew the right thing to say. My lip worked its way between my teeth, my nervous habit he probably read just as easily as he read my mind. “Thank you.”
“Making sure this is right for you isn’t a hardship.”
He kissed my forehead and stepped back. I walked backward into the bedroom, toward the bathroom. He watched me go, hands shoved into his jean pockets. Every step I took away from him was the wrong direction.
The very fact he offered to walk away if I wanted him to made me realize I didn’t want the option.
I stepped into the bathroom and gripped the door. “The doors will be open, Cooper.”
Twenty-Three
Cooper
The day had been better than any I could remember having on a movie set, especially when Peter and Gloria Whitman showed up. The man was what my grandpa would call crotchety, but his wife was as sweet as the fruit pies she delivered. It was the camaraderie while we worked that made the day fun. All hands on deck, Ryan had said, when I told him what I was thinking. And I was learning it was true. Farmers didn’t often work alone unless they wanted it that way, but when something needed to be done, everyone pitched in without needing to be aske
d. Peter had pulled me aside, explained all of this with a seriousness that told me he wasn’t just keeping an eye out on the Marx-Splendid Ranch, but he was keeping an eye on me.
I respected the hell out of him for it.
Rebecca had good people looking out for her, whether she turned to them or not, but she was getting better with that, too.
It took ten years off my life waiting for the bath water to turn off. While it took only a few minutes to fill up two glasses of wine, I used the restroom downstairs and splashed water on my face. It was streaked with mud and dirt along with my knuckles and I was sure every inch of my skin.
Once the water turned off, and I ensured I could hold the wineglasses without trembling hands, I kicked off my boots and set them by the back door. I grabbed the wine and headed up the stairs. Every step closer to her increased the pressure in my chest.
I’d been half-joking when I mentioned the bath, expecting her to laugh me off and send me on my way, but once I caught the expression in her eyes, the one that showed she was thinking of it…there was no turning back for me.
Still, I gave her an easy out, one she didn’t take.
Fucking thrilled and scared out of my mind I’d screw this up made me a nervous wreck by the time I reached the bedroom door. My dick was hard as rock, my breath shallow. Jesus. I hadn’t even seen her yet and I was on the verge of a heart attack.
Water splashed from the bathroom and I closed my eyes.
“Do not let me screw this up,” I muttered to no one in particular, although I couldn’t miss the cross hanging on the wall across from me. Doubted God would be thrilled to answer prayers about my sex life.
Shit, I was losing my mind.
“I heard you coming up the stairs, you know,” Rebecca called from the bathroom. Her voice was soft, teasing, but still held the hint of a tremor in it.
Right. I needed to move to actually take a bath with her.
I stepped around the corner, and found her instantly, and hell it was a miracle the wineglasses didn’t slip from my hands and shatter on the white tiled floor.
Stunning. Her tanned olive skin and jet-black hair were a stark contrast to the whiteness of the bathroom. White bubbles overflowed the edges of the tub that was encased in more white subway tiles.
All that white could have made it cold, but instead, it was elegant and classy. Just like the woman I knew was naked beneath all those bubbles, nibbling that bottom lip of hers while she watched me with wide, scared as hell, eyes.
“Your wine.” I set both glasses on the edge of the tub. My gaze didn’t drift from her face.
I was already hard, I didn’t need my dick punching through my denim zipper quite yet.
Her cheeks were cherry red, either from the heat of the tub, nerves, or the idea of being with me. It didn’t matter.
I settled my hands on my hips. “I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous as hell right now to get into that tub with you.”
“Then you’re not alone.” She picked up one of the glasses of wine and it shook in her hand, proving her nerves. “But no offense, you’re making me more nervous staring at me so can you hurry it up, please?”
I’d be an idiot to pass up the invitation.
I was no idiot.
I tugged my shirt up, reaching back behind my head and gripping the collar. I pulled it off and looked out the window. Her eyes were on me, burning through my skin as she inspected me.
I did sex scenes on movie sets. I was frequently without a shirt even when I was shooting people. Hundreds of people had seen me either half-naked or with only a fig-leaf shaped, nude-colored thong covering my junk. Hell, I’d been half-naked on the cover of GQ.
No one’s opinion of my body had ever been as important as the woman staring at me.
Don’t fuck this up, Coop.
My hands went to the waistband of my jeans and I flicked the button, yanking down the zipper. Denim scratched down my legs as I bent and removed my jeans. The entire time, my gaze was on Rebecca.
Her eyes were on my body, cheeks now magenta. I shucked off my socks, all my clothes besides my boxer briefs in a pile in the middle of her bathroom.
My hands went to my waistband to remove those, but as I began pushing them past my hips, Rebecca closed her eyes.
She looked away and brought the glass to her lips, hands shaking even worse.
Shit. She wasn’t ready. Not for this.
Decision made, I tugged on the band of my briefs and placed my hand on her shoulder. “Scoot forward,” I whispered, my voice unable to be any louder.
A rock somehow got lodged in my throat.
“You’re not—”
“I know. I can bathe with them on. Scoot forward.”
She shook her head. “Cooper, it’s okay to get undressed. I’m just nervous.”
“I know. And we’ll wait. It’s not a problem, Rebecca.”
She still wasn’t looking at me. No way in hell was I getting naked around her until she could look at me while I was. Then…then I’d know she wanted it, wanted me, without reservation at what she’d feel afterward.
She shifted forward, pulling her knees to her chest. I slid in behind her, spreading my legs to her sides. There was plenty of room in the tub. Hell, we could fit more than just us in there, not that I’d ever allow that, but it was roomy, giving me enough space to stretch my legs out.
Once situated, I grabbed my glass of wine with one hand and wrapped the other around the front of her chest, pulling her back to mine. Her head fell to my shoulder.
“I feel ridiculous that you still have clothes on.”
Her skin felt so good against me, I’d already forgotten. My erection was pressed between us, impossible to miss. Easier access to her would not be good for the guy.
“Shut up and relax,” I whispered. I kissed her cheek and brought my glass to my lips.
Her tense shoulders and straight spine slowly settled and soon, the curve of her back was pressed to my front, her ass against my erection, and we sat there, sipping our wine, bubbles galore floating around us.
I couldn’t remember the last time I took a bath.
Rebecca in my arms and resting against me, the peace of only the two of us together without outside noise or distraction, made me want to take one every day.
My hand brushed over her chest, above her breasts, down her arm. She made a humming sound while goose bumps flared, following the movement of my hand. Everywhere I touched, her body responded.
A shiver rolled through her and I set my glass on the edge of the tub. “Still okay?” I whispered, shifting so my lips could press against her ear, skip to the hidden spot behind.
Her hands fell to my thighs, sweet, long and trim, but strong fingers pressed against my flesh.
“Mm-hmm.”
Her eyes were closed, her hair a pile on top of her head. She’d washed her face, although she rarely wore anything more than bare minimum makeup. Her lashes were still long and thick, black as her hair, and the more I kissed her, teasing little hints of what I really wanted to do, her tension melted and her face went soft.
Her loofah and a bottle of body wash caught my eye and I moved, grabbing both. I dumped soap on the loofah scrub and held her off my chest. I washed her back, as far down as I could reach, and ran the scrub poof up and down her arms.
“This feels so good,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I relaxed in a bath.”
“This is my favorite part of the day.”
She laughed like I was joking, but I’d never been more serious. “Lift your foot and press it to the edge.”
She listened and as her leg came up out of the water, I ran the loofah down her legs, bending her knee so I could reach her feet.
“That tickles.” Her lips curled up. Mine did the same. Bathing a woman? Yeah…best part of my day. Camilla and I would shower in the mornings together when we were newly married, that fiery passion I was so certain it would never fade.
Yet, it was never real to begin with
, all an act I assumed on her part to get me under her thumb.
Rebecca didn’t have a single manipulative bone in her body. If she asked, I’d probably agree to bathe her every day. Only payment necessary would be her smile.
I adjusted how we were sitting, sliding to the other edge of the tub so we were facing each other. I washed her other leg, searing every single inch of her exposed skin into my brain. Her hands brushed my calves, my forearms. She touched me timidly, growing in bravery with every brush of her fingertips.
I finished her leg, leaned forward. Grabbing her by the hips, I yanked her toward me.
“Oh!” Her hands landed on my shoulders, her knees out of the water until I moved from the edge and she could settle her feet at my back.
She was wrapped around me, breasts rubbing against my chest, hardened nipples exposed over the bubbles that sloshed and swayed with my sudden movement.
I brushed small chunks of escaped hair behind her ear, running my finger along the edge of it.
“I want to wash something else.”
Her lips parted and her tongue dipped out, pressed against her top lip. Then her lips curled at the edges and she tipped her head to the side. “Which parts?”
She wanted to tease me? Play coy? I’d win that game. My hand was on her thigh and I slid it farther up until my thumb was one small brush away from her center.
“Here.” Her breath hitched. I kept my hand in the same spot. Rubbing my thumb back and forth on her thigh, close enough to drive her crazy, far enough away to not be where her body wanted me. My other hand slid from her hip and up her waist until a finger ran along the swell of her breasts, outside and under.
“Cooper,” she whispered. Her lids grew heavy, I continued teasing.
“These places?”
“All of it’s okay.” Goddamn. A month ago, she looked at me with a blankness in her expression I could relate to. Lately, those moments of darkness were coming fewer and farther between. Currently, as my finger swiped over her nipple, the pink bud above the bubbles and my other hand dangerously close to her sex, there was nothing dark in her eyes.