Taming The Cowboy (She's in Charge Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  I blinked at him, still tingling and breathless, then nodded and got up. “Sounds good.”

  I had to play off nearly running into the doorframe, I was so dizzy from that kiss. But for now, just the promise of more later was enough to keep me going.

  Texas sunsets came in two types from what I’d seen: the soft panorama of gold and pink going darker and more saturated until deep blue drowned it all out…and the boiling crimson, purple and flame orange sinking down to embers whenever a bank of storm clouds played backdrop.

  Right now the sky in the west was as red as a wound, and I could see the clouds piling up heavy and rich over there, bursting with the promise of rain—and relief from the heat. I sat on the bench on Dallas’s front porch with his arm around me, feeling the thick, clinging warmth in the air slowly give way to hints of cooling wind.

  “Look at that,” I said. “Now that view’s worth every bit of dealing with this heat.”

  “Looks like we won’t have to deal with it too much longer,” he commented as the wind picked up again. The smell of rain clung to it now.

  “I swear to God that if it rains after all this, I’m going to go out and dance in it,” I said.

  “You’re gonna get muddy,” he said. “My front yard isn’t paved.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s been two weeks in this heat, and I don’t care if these shoes get wrecked.” I kissed his cheek and he laughed.

  “Those shoes probably cost more than my truck.”

  “No, no, I’m from Austin, not Los Angeles. You’re thinking of the snakeskin cowboy boots.” I flashed a grin.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “My mistake. So how much do those cost as much as—a Vespa?”

  “Okay, now you’re just teasing me.” I looked down at my cute flats and calculated. “Maybe a bicycle. A nice one, though.”

  “Oh well that’s just an extravagance,” he mock-scolded, and I burst out laughing. But then he grew more serious. “Actually you’re the most down-to-earth rich person I’ve ever met. It’s kind of a surprise.”

  “Believe me…” My smile shifted wryly. “A lot of wealthy folks really are like you’d expect. Shallow, cold, petty, spoiled. But Mom and Dad worked their asses off for everything they have, and expected hard work from me too. There’s nobody spoiled in my family except the dog.”

  “Well, spoiling dogs is right and proper,” he declared. He seemed a lot happier and more relaxed now, and though I knew some of it was the beer, I was glad to see it.

  “I’m glad I came to check on you this afternoon,” I said suddenly, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “I’m sorry I worried you,” he murmured. “I just…I got myself into this mess. I didn’t want you propping me up while I drank and brooded my way through figuring part of this out.”

  “I’d have done it.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to. It really is my mess to clean up, Ruth, though I’ve got no idea how I’m going to do it.”

  I had to bite my tongue a little to keep from repeating my offer. I had the ability to fix this. It wouldn’t even strain me to do so. Why wouldn’t he accept help? Pride? Shame?

  Maybe he would see it as charity, and couldn’t accept that. Or maybe he figured he didn’t deserve it. Whatever the reason, I knew he would only push the offer away again—and that he likely wouldn’t explain why.

  Maybe it is shame, I thought. He certainly had trouble making eye contact when he touched on the subject. Or maybe I was infatuated and moving too fast. I could even be making him uncomfortable, I realized with a small shock—though he certainly didn’t act that way.

  Whatever the case, the offer was on the table. If he got into serious trouble, he could take advantage of it—no strings. Informing him of that twice would just sound pushy. I wasn’t the guy’s mom, after all, and I didn’t want to even hint at smothering him.

  “You know…it seems to me that a lot of what guys like that depend on is that you will want to keep working in entertainment. You don’t seem to want to.” The wind blew a little harder; the temperature was dropping, letting my sweat actually cool my skin for the first time in days.

  “They can also sue me, but yeah, they’ve threatened my reputation to hell and back. Which is all kinds of ironic.” He frowned. “But you’re right, that part doesn’t have much teeth. You can’t tell me ‘you’ll never work in this town again’ and expect it to stick as a threat if I’m already packing my damn bags.”

  “I’m sorry this didn’t work out for you,” I said quietly. “Especially for such a stupid reason. But if it’s as toxic as you say, you might be better off out of it.”

  “Yeah, well, the traditional entertainment industry’s heading straight into the toilet these days, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d rather post my stuff on social media for nothing than keep dealing with this.” But I could see the bitterness in his eyes.

  I cuddled close to him, slipping my arms around him and laying my head on his shoulder. “You never know what the future might hold. These guys might cause you problems, but at least you’ll come through it with your self-respect. And a hot girlfriend.”

  He had propped his cheek on the top of my head, but straightened at that to look down at me. “Girlfriend? Okay, yeah, the amazingly, smoking hot girlfriend part makes up for a hell of a lot.”

  “Good, because I’d rather have a guy with principles than a guy with money. I have money. I don’t need more.” And guys who played up the cash they had to offer tended to…only have cash to offer.

  Dallas had so much more to offer than money. I could tell just by the way I felt when I was with him.

  He had gone quiet again. I looked up at him—and saw him staring off at the fading sunset, watching the clouds pile up.

  “I’m not perfect, Ruth,” he said finally. “Please don’t think I am.”

  “I already know you’re not perfect. You have shitty taste in bourbon.”

  He laughed. “You don’t like Four Roses?”

  “No, that stuff’s all for you. I’m not too heavily into hard liquor, actually, especially in the heat. Dries me out even more, and the hangovers are murder.” I took another swig of my third beer. I was down to lukewarm foam and craved more, but I knew better. Time to switch to water for a while.

  I ended up needing a lot of it—plus a glass of milk. Dallas’s ribs were spicy as hell, and I couldn’t stop eating them even after my mouth started burning. “Oh man, I’m going to get fat,” I mock-complained as I reached for another one.

  “With the way you run around, even in the heat? I don’t see it,” Dallas said, looking me up and down. “Besides, if you want, we can always work off those ribs later.”

  My eyebrows shot up. He just smiled enigmatically and didn’t elaborate, leaving me wondering—and tingling all over.

  By the time our ribs were down to bones and he had cleared off the plates, the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees. The wind gusted regularly, the clouds loomed closer and closer, and I could smell the rain constantly now. I breathed in deeply, feeling the cool, damp air on my skin and squirming a little with sheer delight.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” his voice sounded above me suddenly. I looked up and saw he had come back out from cleaning up and was standing there watching as I arched my back and threw back my head.

  I smiled up at him—and he swooped in, capturing my mouth again, his kiss even rougher and hungrier than before.

  I wrapped my arms around him, standing against him as his tongue started to explore my mouth. As the first drops of rain blew against us, I felt him shiver against me—and wasn’t surprised when he lifted me right off my feet and carried me into the house.

  I could feel him shake with impatience as he cradled me against him, kissing and nuzzling me as he pushed through the door and the screen banged behind him. There was something so warm and friendly and familiar about his kisses, even at extremes. They were like candy; I tasted one and wanted to taste m
ore at once. Even when he got a little rough, I pushed back eagerly, until he forgot about carrying me and simply pinned me against the wall beside his bedroom door so he could ravage my mouth to his heart’s content.

  When he pulled away we were both breathless. I stared up at him, eyes a little blurry from passion.

  “You want this?” he murmured against my lips.

  “God, yes,” I gasped out, and he captured my lips again, darting his tongue into my mouth.

  That was all the invitation he needed. My shoes hit the floor as he carried me through the doorway. My shorts and tank top felt like they were smothering me. He set me on the bed; buttons flew as he tore off his shirt. He didn’t seem to care as he dropped it to the floor and reached for me.

  My skin craved his so badly that there was no room for self-consciousness. Three beers in or not, I was too into Dallas to care. When he unbuckled his jeans, I impatiently stripped off my tank top and bra, gasping a little as the cooler air hit my nipples. Then his warm hands covered them and gave me even more reason to gasp.

  We ended up tangled up on the bed, hands all over each other as we helped each other out of the last of our clothes. His skin was smooth against mine, his muscles trembling and taut, and his breath shuddered against me as he covered my breasts with kisses and then sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  I had never felt anything this intense before. I arched and thrashed under him as he held me down and made me take the pleasure. I rolled my hips involuntarily against his belly, whining through gritted teeth as my muscles went taut every time he took another pull. That only encouraged him. He suckled and licked and nibbled until I was tugging impatiently at my shorts to get them off.

  I heard the zip of his jeans as he gave stripping them off another try—and then he pulled away from me, leaving me shivering with disappointment. I managed to focus my eyes long enough to see him pulling a condom out of his bedside drawer, and relaxed, making myself be patient.

  Watching him strip down and roll it on was a treat, though. His body was like a Greek statue—aside from his deep tan and generously sized dick. It did leave me wondering if he would fit…but I didn’t care if it hurt a little. I wanted him that badly.

  I almost came when he entered me, the pressure and his groan of joy exciting me into a frenzy. We clung to each other as he started to move, his panting quickly growing harsh in my ear as he pushed deep into me and drew out again.

  “Ruth—” he whispered, and I wrapped my arms around him tight and moved against him eagerly.

  He caressed me tirelessly as he moved, stoking the fire up high inside of me and leaving me simmering and squirming under him. I could feel my orgasm drawing closer and closer as he rubbed the heel of his hand against my mound, his dick moving faster and faster as his shaking turned into a constant, violent tremor.

  I dug my nails into his shoulders—and felt my body give in suddenly, back arching and legs tightening around him as he brought me up to the peak. I moaned into the curve of his throat as ecstasy rippled through me.

  My climax excited him. He started moving wildly, his deep gasps in my ear going hoarse and desperate. His frantic thrusts stirred me up again. I hung onto him, riding hard, tired hips lifting to his again and again while his head tipped back and I felt him go rigid against me.

  “Aah, ah—Ruth—” he managed to gasp out—and then his hips jerked and pushed me hard into the bedding, and I felt his cock start to jump inside of me as his voice broke up into hoarse, panting groans. Then he went limp over me, barely catching himself.

  “God,” he groaned, bliss on his face as he pulled free of me carefully. His hand gripped the base of the condom. I felt his absence inside of me almost painfully as he drew away.

  He gasped as he shed the condom and tossed it, pulling a baby wipe from a packet in his drawer and wiping himself down before he rejoined me to snuggle me in his arms. “Don’t you go anywhere,” he warned me breathlessly. “I’m not done with you.”

  “You’re not?” I teased gently, running a finger down his chest. He shuddered.

  “Nope.” He cupped my breast almost lazily, caressing me with his thumb. “Maybe not ever.” And for a moment, the look he gave me was so raw and vulnerable that I was caught between wanting to hug him and just wanting him again.

  Chapter 13

  Ruth

  I woke up in Dallas’s arms to the sound of rain pounding the roof and windows, and smiled blissfully. He was still asleep, his soft breathing stirring my hair. I lay there limply, somehow exhausted and refreshed all at the same time. I had no idea what time it was—and I just didn’t care.

  All I wanted to do was lie there with him, until he woke and made love to me again.

  I was sure I had left nail marks in him while he was driving me wild last night. I could see a few of them on his shoulder as I lay with my head pillowed on it. It was a little embarrassing—in a fun, naughty sort of way. I doubt he’ll mind one bit when he sees them. He sure didn’t mind then.

  I was in love. Really in love, for the first time in my life. I felt like singing. I felt like making him breakfast in bed, and then calling the board and letting them know I was extending my working vacation for another month, just because.

  They didn’t need to know about my romantic life. Or my sex life, for that matter. The board was mostly mildly conservative older Texans, some of whom would probably squirm like worms on a hook inside if they learned that their single female CEO even had a sex life.

  Some of them might even deserve the discomfort, but I would rather they remain blissfully ignorant of anything I considered private, personal, and none of their damn business. Hell, I wouldn’t even tell Bella about this. This was all mine.

  I smiled widely and stretched in the circle of Dallas’s arms, feeling my whole body tingle as my muscles flexed and relaxed. I wasn’t used to intimacy at all, let alone actual good sex. But here I was, soaked in the afterglow, and it was even still cool enough that I wasn’t sticky with dried sweat.

  Unfortunately, my body still didn’t want to let me rest in his arms forever, like I wanted. The temperature might have dropped, but sex was thirsty work and my mouth was all stuck together inside. I waited as long as I could as my discomfort grew; my throat was parched, my eyes felt dry, and my skin started itching. Dammit.

  Finally, I gave up and slipped carefully out of Dallas’s arms, laying the sheet back over him carefully. The air was almost chilly on my skin as I nipped off to the bathroom to rinse off and then put my shorts outfit back on.

  I needed water so badly that I drained the whole pitcher he had in his fridge before the ache behind my eyes went away. As I stood at the sink filling it, I stared out the kitchen window over the fields behind his house, where dawn was just breaking. Soon, the roosters would start up, and the cows would start mooing, forcing poor Dallas up for his morning chores.

  I should help him out. Get more of a feel for this work, and make sure he has more time for me—and breakfast, I guess.

  Still, it wasn’t even seven yet, which gave me some time to pull myself together before his alarm went off.

  It was beautiful outside, the rain sweeping across the field in windblown sheets. I kind of hoped all the mosquitoes would drown in this, but I knew they would be even more active in the damp. Still, watching the storm wash the world clean after almost three weeks of dust and heat was a small miracle for me right now.

  Everything was. The dim sunlight shining through droplets on the window. The dust dancing in the sunbeam. The pile of oranges in the glass bowl on the counter, next to his wooden mail bowl.

  Left ravenous by good sex, I went over to grab one of the oranges. As I peeled it, letting its fresh, zingy scent out into the air, I happened to look down into the mail bowl.

  I frowned. There was mail, yes, but it didn’t have Dallas’s name on it. Who the heck was Calvin Dawson?

  I picked up the top envelope and blinked down at it, my blissful fog starting to clear with brutal speed. Ther
e were three pieces of mail, all addressed to Calvin or C. Dawson. The top one was a check from an acting agency. I peered at the return address: someplace in Dallas.

  A creeping suspicion started to hit me. Maybe if half-drunk Dallas hadn’t talked at such length about the “unethical” job he was trying to get out of, it wouldn’t have. But now, pulling the check from the slit-open envelope and staring down at a surprising number of zeros, I started putting the pieces together.

  My relaxation vanished and I started to shake. No. There’s no way. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t!

  But my horrible, too-smart, merciless brain was already going through the facts. His “unethical” job he would owe a pile of money for if he didn’t go along with it. The fact that he had lied about being a Nashville musician when he was apparently a Dallas-based actor hired by a Hollywood-based agency. The fake name.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Gregory suspected this whole time that whoever orchestrated the death threats and the attack on my life was a rival with an agenda. We just didn’t know what that agenda was. My mind swept back to all the times Dallas had asked about my work. Asked for specifics.

  They hired him as a spy! They somehow knew I would come here, to this place in particular, and they set him up to be waiting when I got here.

  He had asked about my work a lot. An awful lot. I just hadn’t noticed since he had been interested in everything about me. But it had all been an act with a hidden agenda. How much information did he gather without my noticing? How much did he pass along?

  Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the new-relationship bliss I had felt not five minutes ago. I had genuinely believed that “Dallas” was the real deal, that this was his home, that he was falling for me like I was falling for him. But even if he had admitted guilt and misgivings about his “current assignment”—spying on me—he had still gone through with it, and he still hadn’t told me.