by Stacey Lynn
Need. It blared at me as fiercely as my own expression held the same.
I reached for the soap, forgoing the loofah. When my hands were lathered, her fingernails dug into my shoulders. I started at her shoulders, running circles over her arms before moving down to my first intended target. I’d get to the rest once I dried her off.
“Tell me what you love most about the ranch.”
Her body jolted. I kept working.
“You’re asking me this now?” Her breaths came in quickened pants, breasts heaving so much they created ripples of water.
“Yes. Talk to me.” I wanted her mind focused on me, only me, but getting her talking could get her out of her head, too. “Did you ever think of leaving? Moving to the city?”
“No,” she breathed. My hands brushed down, barely caressing the swell of her breasts. “Never. The land is in my blood.”
She lived liked it. I admired the hell out of it.
“What do you love the most? If you could only choose one thing.”
Her eyelids fluttered, lips parted. “Cooper.”
I scraped my thumb over her pert nipple. Hard and pink, my mouth watered to taste her. I’d get there soon.
“I’ll keep teasing until you tell me,” I warned, grinning at her.
“You’re evil.”
Every time she teased me, my dick hardened. You only teased people you trusted could take it. It spoke volumes.
I was mesmerized by the feel of her, the scent of the bubbles and Rebecca. I dropped my eyes, focused on pleasing her, driving her slowly to the brink of madness. I moved to her other breast, repeated my movements.
“You’re not talking.”
“I’m thinking.” I pinched her nipple. “Shit. I can’t think when you do that.”
Her hips rocked against me, she was far enough back on my lap she found nothing to rub against.
A groan fell from her though. She’d feel fucking phenomenal if I had the chance to be inside her.
I switched to her other nipple, rolling the tight bud between my thumb and finger.
“Shit. The quiet. I’ve always loved the quiet. People…they’re loud and you can’t always trust them.”
There was a flash of dark in her eyes, but nothing to do with how she normally looked when she thought of Joseph. This was something else, a story I’d enjoy hearing another day.
“The animals are quiet?” I continued teasing her nipples, pulling, pinching in that way that shot pleasure at the center of her thighs. She rocked against me again. Water splashed.
It was getting cold against our skin.
I barely noticed and I didn’t give a fuck.
“They’re peaceful. I wake up knowing I’m doing something important and I go to bed knowing I’ve accomplished it. I care for cattle that will become people’s food. It’s important to me I do it correctly and carefully.”
She meant every damn word. A missionary on a cattle ranch, only wanting to make sure strangers got the best from what she poured out with her bare hands.
Fuck she was incredible. I dropped my hand and pulled her against me, slammed her mouth to mine. She adjusted, pressing right against my covered dick, and holy hell, thank you Jesus for all that was beautiful in the world. Just the feel of her almost drove me to the edge. I was the mad one. Crazy for her.
And not for the first time in the last week or two, the idea of staying crossed my mind, like an Olympic sprinter running the hundred meter dash, it was there and gone that quick, before I could focus. Her mouth was on mine, she was rocking against me, my dick about ready to explode with excitement, seeking her heat.
I grabbed her ass and moved to my knees. She clung to me, tearing her mouth from mine.
I pressed my mouth to her throat.
“What are we doing?”
“Moving to the bed.”
Twenty-Four
Rebecca
Bed. Yes. Please. Pleasure invaded my body as Cooper carried me, making quick work of haphazardly drying off our bodies. Difficult to do when he kept me plastered to him.
He turned me on in ways I couldn’t remember, touched me and teased with his voice and his body. I kissed his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. Everywhere I could reach, my mouth greedily found.
The reaction I had to him was insane. We barely knew each other. It was temporary. I didn’t care. Not then.
I wanted him. His body on top of mine. His mouth all over me. He laid me down on my bed, the covers scratching my back, and his body covered mine. His still wet boxer briefs clung to him, dripped water at my stomach, down my thighs as he pushed my arms to the mattress.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered, his mouth at my chest, his tongue sliding around my nipple.
Every time he touched me felt like the first time I’d been touched. Sensations rippled and stormed through my body like the most horrific thunderstorm. Exciting in its vivid splashes of light and ear-piercing booms. Beautiful in its danger.
I didn’t know how it happened. I didn’t understand when I allowed it to happen, but somehow, Cooper was digging his place into my heart so slowly, so determinedly, I doubted I could kick him out if I wanted to.
God.
His lips pressed against my stomach. Hips arched into his. I needed him to touch me, take me, treasure me.
“Please. Taste me.” I gasped as his hands followed, running along my breasts, torturing my nipples with delightful zips of pain to my sex. My hands flew to his waist, pressed against his briefs.
He’d kept them on for me. I didn’t need him to. Hadn’t wanted him to, yet the thought of watching him disrobe had shot embarrassment to my cheeks. He mistook it as fear.
Crazy man. I feared nothing from him except heartache which had to be coming. And even that wasn’t on my mind as I pushed down his briefs. He stopped his movements, head raising and peered at me.
The question was on his tongue. I sensed it before he spoke it.
“I’m okay,” I assured him. He asked me too often, gave me too many choices. Hadn’t he realized yet that sometimes I wanted the choice removed from me? I made so damn many.
Going with the flow, surrendering to the passion constantly zapping between us was all I thought of. And how in the hell did this happen?
“Sure?” he still asked. And God, he was a good man. One of the better ones. A keeper—
I shoved that thought out of my head and nodded. Too many questions. Not enough movement.
“Please.” My hips ached, my stomach clenched. Every nerve tensed in anticipation of that delicious swipe of his tongue. “Oh God,” I moaned as it happened.
That first feel of him. Glorious. Rockets could blare. Fireworks could ignite. My house could catch fire. Nothing would distract me from this. This moment where I realized I was completely, so damn completely wrong.
He could never be used for sex. Not Cooper. Everything he did with me had become so personal it was freaking terrifying.
He tasted me, mouth on my most intimate parts, and my body responded, against my will, or in line with my will, I couldn’t tell you. He dipped me to the edge of insanity and brought me back, balanced me on that ledge of a cliff dive, no safety net, all terror and adrenaline and... “Yes, please. There.”
My hand flew to his head, his shoulder. Fingers dug into hot, burning, muscled flesh. He groaned against me, the vibrations wicked and beautiful. I ignited without warning. Cooper drove me to my peak and shoved me off the cliff before I’d realized I was in danger of flying. Crashing. Soaring.
He brought it all out of me while I writhed beneath him, clinging to him as if our very lives depended on my grip.
“Oh crap,” I gasped, as the tremors faded. “You’re really good at that.”
He slid up my body, lips everywhere, tasting me, memorizing me. His eyes seared into my body with determination. I was a present, a gift he wouldn’t forget. I prayed with all my strength I was reading him correctly.
My hand rested on his ribs, his hips as he moved
forward. He brushed against me. Tiny aftershocks lit up at the feel of his hard length against me. An area I’d thought closed for good, forever, until this city boy pulled his luggage down a rocky path.
Someday I’d watch him take it all away.
But that thought was for another day. I arched my back, tilted my chin and his mouth met mine. My hand slid to his front, to him, his beautiful, hard and thick length rubbing against me.
I squeezed, familiarized myself with the feel of him. Heated silk over steel. My fingers and thumb barely brushed around his girth.
Glorious, he was glorious everywhere.
“Becca,” he groaned. That same word, that same whisper in my ear. It didn’t hurt. There wasn’t pain. Just the question in my name, the reassuring, the double-checking.
He didn’t relax.
“I want to,” I said. “Let me.”
I pressed my hips against him and arched my back. I took him by surprise because he rolled easily and I was on him, my hair brushing against his chest. His hand pushed it out of the way, wrapped it in his fist. I kept my gaze focused on his body. The curve of his chest, the dips of his abs. Those precious muscles inside his hips, the trail of black hair that started at his belly button and led me down further to the weight of him in my hand.
To what I desired with the haste of a woman who craved ice cream and wine after a bad break-up.
I kissed his abs, that delicious V. His groans were my reward and I ate them up, let them spur me on.
This wasn’t my favorite. It wasn’t a chore. But I always preferred a man inside of me, taking charge to me having the power. I was smart enough to know that wouldn’t happen tonight. Cooper was too cautious.
Also, I didn’t have condoms and I wasn’t on the pill. That had lapsed and there was no need to refill.
I slid my tongue over his tip, my hand gripped his base and worked in tandem with my mouth. He arched up, demanding more, and I took as much as I could. I worked as slowly as I could, reveling in the feel of this man, this crazy nutty man who made me laugh and made me relax and with him. I smiled again and some days I wasn’t drowning as long as Cooper was nearby.
This was my thank you, for bringing me back, for helping me find my way again when no one else stood a chance at being able to. He was new, lacked the vivid reminders of my life, and took me as I came, as dented and scarred as that might be.
He was delicious, hot, clean.
“Fuck. Becca.” His release tightened his voice. He swelled in my mouth. I hummed around him and took him deeper, to the back of my throat and swallowed. One of his hands slapped the bed. The other pressed against my head.
He held me as he shot his release deep into my throat.
I took everything—willingly and happily and willfully. But he’d question it.
He was good at it. So I stayed close to him, released him from my mouth, pressed kisses to his thigh and his hip. He jumped as I kissed that sensitive area around his beautiful V-shaped muscle.
“That tickles.” I’d discover all his ticklish places by the time I was done.
I wasn’t given the chance. His hands went to my sides and I was no match for his strength.
He pulled me up against him and I smiled. It hurt my cheeks. “Okay?” I asked, although based on the way he gripped my hair, confirmation wasn’t necessary.
I wanted to beat him to the question in his eyes.
“Better than.” I’d said that in the kitchen weeks ago.
I grinned at the memory, wiggling my brows. He was beautiful. Tanned skin and strong jaw, piercing green eyes and a knitted brow. “Good.”
His hands settled on my lower back and I fell to his shoulder. A yawn escaped me and I draped my arm over my stomach. “Today was a good day,” I said through it.
I used to count them. I’d get to the nightfall and cry, and I’d make a list of everything I had to be thankful for. It was the only way to keep from surrendering to the heavy weight of all my grief. Count your blessings, my mom used to say, things could always be worse.
I was certain she’d been wrong because some days the only things on my list were: I’m alive. Animals are fed.
I didn’t even realize I’d stopped writing those lists months ago, before Cooper even arrived, until that moment.
I had been healing, in slow, unmeasured steps and moments where the pain hadn’t been completely unbearable, just painful.
Perhaps everyone was right. It was time to move on. To live and not simply survive. Maybe it was time to find my way on a weeded path I never would have taken on my own.
Sometimes those journeys could be the best.
Cooper’s heart raced at my ear, mine matched his inside my chest. He was silent, his fingers running through my hair.
My lids closed. The day…the night…exhaustion whispered at the edges of my mind and my body.
“Stay here? With me.”
“You—”
I groaned and pushed off his chest, lifting until I could kiss him. No more questions. No more checking. I was where I was okay with being. It was enough.
“Stop asking me if I’m sure, Cooper. If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t ask or agree. You’re giving me a complex.”
“I want to make sure we don’t move faster than you’re ready. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
We’d almost had sex. Guilt wasn’t nipping at my heels. Not yet. I understood his concern, but I was also really tired of everyone being worried about me.
“I can’t guarantee I won’t.” I refused to lie. Not after what we shared in my bed. “I can promise you I don’t know what I’m doing right now, how to do this.” I waved my hand in between us. “I don’t want to sleep alone, and I like you here. I like you. That’s all I’m certain of.”
“I like you too.” He grinned against my mouth and kissed me.
Then he rolled me to my back, settled his weight on me and kissed me some more.
Eventually, the kisses slowed and we fell asleep, his body wrapped around mine.
Twenty-Five
Cooper
A distant thumping, scraping sound, almost in my ear, woke me up. I peeled my eyes open, a mass of chocolate brown hair spread out over my chin and chest. Rebecca’s warm body was pressed so close to me I was almost able to ignore the continued, obnoxious sound.
It silenced, and I closed my eyes.
I didn’t fall asleep until long after Rebecca did. Would she regret what we’d done? I’d pushed her faster than I thought, only pulling back from the ultimate connection between us when I realized I didn’t have a condom on me, and I guessed she wasn’t prepared for that either. I still laid awake, fear curling in my gut she’d wake and push against me. Instead, at some point during the night, she curled into me. Her arm had wrapped around my stomach, her thighs tangled with mine. I had kissed her temple, brushing a mess of hair off her face and her eyes had fluttered open.
“You’re awake,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Go to sleep, Cooper.”
Once she said my name, lips curling into a small smile before she drifted off to sleep again, I followed her.
Now, I forced my eyes to peel open, an obnoxious, buzz then scrape sound almost in my ear again.
“Ugh.” I slapped at my phone I’d put on the nightstand last night when I brought up our wine, grabbed it, and barely processed seeing Max’s name before I connected the call. “What is it, Max? It’s freaking early out there.”
Window blinds across the bed were closed, but light was barely visible. It was still early here.
“Need you to get to Lawrence, Cooper.”
“What?” I slid Rebecca’s arm off my stomach and pushed myself to sitting.
She mumbled something and curled closer, her cheek resting on my lower abdomen as I readjusted myself. Without thought, my hand went to her hair, slid through her silky mane as Max explained.
“Camilla’s refusing to sign the papers until she sees you.”
“Fuck her.” Anger suffused my
veins and my jaw ached from trying to stay quiet.
I was spending the day exactly where I was, pressed against Rebecca in her large and incredibly warm and comfortable bed.
“She said you come to her or she’s coming to you.”
That witch. I huffed a laugh. “Bullshit. She can’t find me.”
“That’s not exactly true anymore.”
All my heated veins chilled. “What do you mean?”
“Picture of you flooded through gossip sites late last night.”
Max had held my hand through my entire career. I’d sat in meetings while he bulldozed publicists and directors and producers. I’d listened as he sweet talked vindictive ex-spouses and their team of money hungry lawyers. Never had I heard him sound this pissed.
All that ice in my veins turned arctic. “Max. You’re fucking with me.” I swung my legs off the bed, my feet smacking on the carpet. Shit. The last thing I needed was to wake up Rebecca. Gently, I re-covered her with the comforter and hurried as quietly as I could to my clothes piled in the bathroom where I’d ditched them last night. “Tell me what happened.” I grabbed my jeans and tugged them on.
“Yeah, you were shoveling food into your mouth at what looked like Down Home, and I’m not guessing, I would never forget those red Formica tabletops and it’s Rebecca’s favorite. Good shit, isn’t it?”
I was on gossip sites and the man was talking about food. I tugged on my hair so hard my roots ached. People glanced at me, that look they gave when they thought I looked familiar but weren’t certain, but no one had approached.
Apparently someone was curious enough to snap a photo. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It came with my job. It was the risk I took in not wearing a wig, but the idea of seeing Rebecca splashed all over gossip sites rattled me.
Shit. No way in hell would I let Camilla come here, but hell if I wanted to take off. Not today of all days. “When do I need to be there?”
My gaze caught on Rebecca and all her black hair spread now all over the side of the bed I’d slept on. Her back was to me but she’d moved because the comforter I draped over her was gone. She had a light colored mole halfway down her back, right at the center of her spine. The curve of her body. Damn it.