Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas

by Kim Redford

  She hurried over to Rowdy’s borrowed pickup, hit the remote control, and heard the lock click. She opened the back door, and the inside light came on, but she didn’t see a duffel, only firefighting equipment, a few towels, and a blanket. Frustrated, she slammed the door and then opened the front passenger door. She looked in the floorboard but didn’t see a duffel there either.

  She stepped inside and sat down, trying to think where he might have put the bag. She leaned over to peer under the seat and hit her head on the console, knocking open the glove compartment. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She grabbed it, recognizing an auto insurance form. He definitely didn’t need to lose that important piece of information.

  She picked it up, intending to set it right back, when she noticed the name on it. Bertram Holloway. So that was who had loaned Rowdy the truck. Nice guy. And then something dawned on her. The name was familiar. Bert Two was friends with her brothers. They’d talked about taking firefighting classes with him. She’d never met him, but she probably would soon since he and his dad owned Holloway Farm and Ranch someplace near her new ranch. She supposed the pickup could belong to Bert Two’s dad, since they had the same name, but she doubted it. Rowdy was about the same age as Bert Two, so they were probably closer friends. All in all, it was a small world...and a good one.

  She slipped the form back into the glove compartment and snapped the lid shut. She looked under the seat and found the duffel. It was smaller than she’d expected, but then Rowdy was a man and probably had nothing more in there than shirt, shorts, socks, and jeans. She grinned at the very idea of such a limited wardrobe. Maybe she should consider a line of Western wear for men, but she doubted she could interest them in much more than what they already considered basic and essential.

  She grabbed the duffel, stepped down to the ground, and locked the door. She hoped the fancy pickup didn’t get any more damaged while Rowdy borrowed it, particularly when it was parked on her front lawn. She’d definitely pay for the repairs.

  She walked back to the house and then shut and locked the front doors behind her. She’d locked the exit door to Homer’s loft earlier in the evening, so she knew he was all settled inside, too. She felt satisfied that all was safe and secure for the night.

  She heard the shower running, so she followed the sound to her bedroom, where she knew Rowdy stood naked behind a closed door. She set his keys on top of her chest of drawers and then just stopped and listened, imagining how it’d be to come home to him as a natural part of her day. Of course, he must already have a house, but maybe he’d be willing to spend time here beyond the work on her home. That reminded her. She needed to make another donation on his behalf to Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue, but that was for another day. Tonight it was all about needs…her needs, his needs, their needs.

  She set his duffel beside the chest and glanced around the room, considering her options with the sound of running water in the background. She needed a shower, too. Could she be so bold? Was she ready to go from zero to one hundred in an instant? No, it wouldn’t be like that. They’d been together in so many other ways that this would simply be an extension of what they’d already built between them.

  She tossed back the turquoise-silk comforter on her king-size bed with the hand-carved cedar headboard, scattering throw pillows in shades of pink and purple here and there, to reveal silky aqua sheets. She’d decorated her bedroom in a Western motif with the cedar set that included a dresser, chest, and nightstands. An antique fainting couch with purple silk upholstery was one of her favorite places to relax after a long day. A delicate rosewood Queen Anne table beside it was stacked with books that were marked with sticky notes for future reference. But tonight she wasn’t in the mood for research. She had something very different in mind.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, tugged off her boots, and flung them into a corner where they thudded and sent up a cloud of dust. She quickly pulled off her jeans and her sweater before she tossed them on top of her boots. She selected a bright-red lipstick from the collection in the crystal dish on her dresser and painted her lips with it. Now she wore nothing but her crimson bra, thong…and smile.

  She opened the bathroom door and then shut it behind her. Steam clouded the closed door of the shower…and she smiled a little more. She leaned back against the bathroom door and locked it. No interruptions, not this night.

  He’d stripped and flung his clothes at a countertop where they’d half spilled onto the floor underneath, leaving a mess that simply enlarged her smile because it spoke of his comfortableness in her home. He’d pulled off his boots and dropped them to the floor, leaving one lying on its side while the other stood upright as if awaiting his return.

  She padded barefoot across the eighties-era blue tile to the shower. She splayed her hand on the warm glass, imagining her fingers caressing Rowdy’s bare chest just a moment before she clicked open the door…not far, just enough to let him know he had company.

  “Belle?” he asked.

  “I thought you might need help. Your hands. Your legs.”

  He chuckled, a husky sound that vibrated deep in his chest. “It’s not my legs and hands that need help.”

  “Really?” She widened the door a bit more, but still not enough for either of them to see each other.

  “Yeah.” He curled his long fingers around the edge of the door, but he didn’t open it either. “Do you need to take a shower, too?”

  “I got dirty outside.” She was tantalized by that little glimpse of tanned skin that promised so much more exposed flesh.

  “How dirty?”

  “Dirty enough I may need help getting clean.”

  “Help?” His fingers tightened around the edge of the door, as if already taking on the task…or holding back a sudden need.

  “Yes.”

  He pushed the door open a bit more, letting out steam that smelled of lavender soap and aroused male.

  She shivered as the soft warmth and hard scent hit her.

  “Join me?”

  “I’m still dressed, sort of.”

  “How much dressed?” His fingers tightened even more on the door.

  “Well…just a little bit.”

  “Are you toying with me?”

  “Well…maybe just a little bit.”

  “That sounds like trouble.” He edged open the door, and more steam and scent flowed across her.

  “Well…maybe…just a little bit, but we already had trouble tonight.”

  “We got rid of that trouble.”

  “Perhaps we don’t want any more.”

  “This is a whole different kind of trouble.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah.” And he opened the door…completely.

  She felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him with not a stitch of clothing anywhere. He looked wet and on the edge of wild. Soap suds drifted down the hard muscles of his chest before tangling in short, dark blond hair and flowing down his six-pack abs. She let her gaze drift lower. Oh, he was definitely ready for trouble…

  Chapter 21

  Rowdy felt the sting of hot water in back and the hotter sting of Belle in front. He didn’t move…couldn’t. He simply stared at enticing crimson, from her lips to her breasts to her triangle. His Belle. He felt a surge of male desire not only to join with her but to entice, soothe, protect. It’d been a long evening, maybe too long to indulge fantasies. Maybe a simple shower would be best, but he honestly didn’t know if he could stop there.

  She stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her, taking any type of decision away from him.

  “Trouble?” She leaned back against the shower wall and let water spray over her, wetting her red accents until the sheer fabric molded her curves.

  “Trouble in red.” He made no attempt not to feast his eyes. How could he do anything else? He saw her lips pucker in the f
orm of a kiss. He saw her nipples poke at the material of her bra. He saw her firm thighs wedge the wisp of fabric between them.

  “Do you like red?”

  “I adore red…on you.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Absolutely…more every moment.”

  “Do you need to go to the clinic?”

  “No. I need to go to you.”

  She stroked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “Do you think it’s wise, in your condition?”

  “If you mean the burns, I don’t feel them at all.”

  “But still—”

  “I need help with my other condition.”

  She smiled, letting the pleasure travel from her eyes to her lips and back again. She reached out and slowly stroked the tip of one finger down his long, hard length, gazing into his eyes the entire time.

  He took a deep breath. “I thought trouble, but I changed my mind.”

  “Did you?” She put that fingertip to her mouth and sucked it inside.

  “Siren.”

  “Really?” She spoke around her finger with mischief dancing in her hazel eyes.

  “I’ve fallen under your spell.”

  She removed her damp finger and stroked down the center of his chest. “Which spell is that?”

  He covered her hand with his own strong fingers, feeling her softness and warmth over his heart. “Love…it can only be a love spell.”

  “Do you think we could share the spell?” Mischief slipped from her eyes to reveal tenderness.

  “Nothing could make me happier.” And he was all done with talk. Now was the time for action.

  As water gently sprayed over them, he lifted her hand and placed it on the back of his neck while he leaned forward, gently kissed her red lips and then toyed with her lower lip with his tongue, his teeth until he plunged deep inside, drawing her body closer…not yet completely against his own but close enough to feel her heat. He was in no hurry. He’d waited so long for this moment that he meant to savor every last bit of pleasure…and give it to her in return.

  She moaned, a raw, ragged sound, as she returned his kiss—deep and moist and hot—while she ran her fingers into his thick hair and tugged his face closer as she tucked her body into him, demanding, commanding, suggesting.

  And that was it. He was totally into red. He knew he’d smeared her lipstick across his mouth. Now he went for the straps of her bra and gently lowered them until he slowly revealed the upper slopes of her breasts, all wet from the water and pink from the heat. And then she helped him by reaching behind her back with both hands, unhooking her bra, and letting the red fabric dangle down until she dropped it to the floor.

  He feasted again, letting his gaze caress the rosy-tipped mounds before he reached out and cupped her breasts, feeling the tips harden. He hissed under his breath, part pleasure and part pain, as he stroked her bare flesh with the sensitized palms of his hands.

  Still there was more red to tantalize him as he roamed downward, pausing at her navel to toy with the indentation before he reached her thong. It was nothing more than a stretch of lace around her hips, so he tore the edges, slipped the last bit of red from her, and dropped it to the bra. Now she was as he had often imagined…only so much more in living, breathing, tantalizing naked flesh.

  As he reached for her, she reached for him, clasping his shoulders and drawing him close. He pressed between her legs, feeling her hot and wet and ready for him, while he grasped her bottom with both hands and pulled her to him. Finally, they were body to body with nothing between them that could stop or slow their coming bliss.

  And then he remembered protection…and gently set her from him.

  “Rowdy?”

  “Condom in the pocket of my jeans.”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Heat of the moment. I almost forgot, too.”

  “Wait…do you always carry a condom in your jeans?” She stepped back, crossing her arms over her breasts. “That sounds, well—”

  “Only since I met you.”

  “You’ve been that sure of yourself?”

  “I’ve been that hopeful.” He opened the shower door. “Let me get it.”

  “I don’t know now. It seems so—”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed look and then picked up a washcloth and soaped it. “While you’re gone, I’ll just take my shower.”

  “I’m only walking across the bathroom.”

  “Take your time.” She ran the washcloth across her breasts, leaving them covered in soap bubbles.

  He groaned at the sight. “You’re toying with me again, aren’t you?”

  “I thought you said you wanted trouble.” She washed each leg, letting soapy water run down them.

  “Changed my mind.” He wasn’t about to step out of the shower, not with this show going on. “I prefer siren now.”

  She glanced up at him and grinned, looking mischievous. “Go get it.”

  “Not unless you promise not to move an inch while I’m gone.”

  “Go.” She balled up her washcloth and tossed it at him.

  He caught it, dropped it, and stepped out of the shower, never taking his eyes off her to make sure she didn’t do something else he didn’t want to miss.

  She stood still, watching him as she let the water cascade over her, washing away the soapy residue.

  He finally turned away, walked across the room, and picked up his jeans. About the time he put his hand in the pocket, he heard the shower turn off. When he looked back, she’d stepped out, grabbed a towel, and headed for the door.

  “Not so fast.” But he was slow, caught trying to dislodge the condom while watching her sashay across the room.

  She unlocked the door, cast him an amused smile, and stepped from the room, leaving behind only a soft trill of laughter.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he was well and truly bound to this beautiful siren. No wonder she inspired him. She was poetry in motion.

  He got hold of the condom, left the bath, and found her lying supine across the aqua sheets of her big bed…damp towel cast aside on the floor. She’d gone from hot red to cool blue in the time it took to cross a room. But he knew how to heat her up again.

  She raised a hand and beckoned him closer, giving him a smile that was almost shy and in contrast to the sultriness of her body.

  He hesitated, not exactly sure how to approach her because he didn’t want to do anything to mar this special time. With the heat of the moment left behind in the shower, maybe what they had now was a tenderness born of love that connected them not only on a physical level but on a deeper one as well.

  And then he realized he was waxing poetic. How did he know if he was even right? Yet every thought, every word, every touch to this point had felt so very perfect that he couldn’t deny it. He ripped open the condom wrapper. She waited for him to set her body on fire. Did anything else really matter now?

  He sat down on the side of the bed, slipped on the condom, and turned to her. “If I told you I loved you, would you think it too soon?”

  She reached out, leaving her palm turned up and empty, as if waiting for him to claim her. “Is there a correct time and place, or even people, for love?”

  He clasped her hand and threaded their fingers together. “Sometimes it’s just right, isn’t it?”

  She squeezed his hand in reply.

  And then he was struck anew by the big lie that stood between them like an insurmountable mountain. She didn’t know he wasn’t really Rowdy, although the name had now become like a second skin. He wanted that name to be him. He was done with the Bert Two business. She’d been instrumental in bringing him into his own skin, his own place, his own reality. Now he knew why he’d been unlucky in love—and every other thing in life. He’d been missing h
er, the magical siren with the power to set his world right.

  He held her gaze and felt his heart open to her, a sensation he’d never experienced before this moment. Strength, born of love, rose in him. To keep her close, to bond with her, to nurture their budding commitment, he could never let her know he’d picked the short straw that had set him on the path to destroying her most cherished dream.

  “Come here.” She gave him a lazy smile. “I’d almost think you were hesitant.”

  “It’s that love thing.”

  “Do you need me to say the words to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can, but I’m not completely sure.” She squeezed his hand again.

  “Sure isn’t necessary. It’ll come in time.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right…I think I love you.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “Do you really need to have it all right now?”

  “Yes.”

  She pursed her lips together thoughtfully, as if giving the matter great thought.

  “Come on.”

  “Are you telling me that we can’t have sex without love?”

  He wondered if that were true. How had it come to this? It’d never happened before. Sex was good, any which way you got it. But this was different. If they came together without love, would they stay together, or would they drift apart?

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I’m here.” She gave him a slow, tender smile so full of love that it said more than any amount of words could ever say.

  And he was satisfied…at least for the moment.

  He leaned forward, cupped her face with both hands, and then gently pressed a kiss to her lips, now rosy and swollen from their earlier kisses. He leaned back to see her expression and was rewarded with a satisfied smile on her face. She hadn’t forgotten what they’d started in the shower any more than he’d forgotten. Maybe there wasn’t any need to rev up when they were both already ready to sprint to the finish line.

  She scooted over to make room for him and then patted the bed, all silky and soft, that would appeal to a woman and simply be useful to a man.