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breath.
"I'm here to pick up some extra money," he said. "I'm not
a bronc rider by trade and even after breaking your daddy's
record, I'm not about to become one. It's a hard life. Harder
than what I do."
He reached for her. She felt the pull like it was some
magnetic force. She didn't want to fight it anymore. It didn't
matter whether he rodeoed or cowboyed or drove a truck.
She'd been struggling against demons that no longer seemed
to matter.
One look at Clay's hand outstretched in invitation along
with the silent plea on his face, and her boots were clicking
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Re-Ride At The Rodeo [Wayback Texas Series]
by Anne Carrole
on the concrete as she went to him. His chest was solid, his
arms strong as he pressed her to him. The heat of his body
felt good in the mild chill of the night air.
His hands moved up her back in a warm caress. "I want to
celebrate my win. Tonight. With you." His hot breath teased
her skin.
She pulled back to look at him. She knew what he was
asking. If she said yes, they'd be celebrating in a very
intimate way. He may not be a rodeo cowboy but it was
doubtful he was in this for the long haul, despite his words.
He'd take his winnings and go home and resume his playboy
ways. But looking into those dark blue eyes, she knew she
couldn't let him leave just yet.
* * * *
Her room was like a cotton candy factory pink, soft and
fluffy. Ruffled curtains, shaggy carpet and so many pillows
he'd had to push them off the double bed to make room. He'd
felt as out of place as a sheep in a cow pen.
But he'd sure enjoyed taking the clips from her hair and
watching each tendril drift loose over her shoulders, enjoyed
peeling off her clothes, layer by layer, until she lay on the
pink bed cover, naked except for a pair of white cotton
panties. With her golden hair fanned out around her, Dusty
looked like an angel in a pink heaven.
Her finger traced the veins that mapped the back of his
hand. "You have large hands," she whispered. Her light touch
tickled.
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On bent elbow, he braced his head and shifted his body
nearer so he had a better view of her adorable face with its
delicate nose, sculpted cheek bones and wide eyes. His shirt
was gone but he still wore his jeans which right now were
uncomfortably tight and getting tighter by the second.
"There's nothing so big about me that I won't be tender with
you." He brushed his lips down her smooth throat. Her
flowery scent filled his nostrils. "I know how to make it good
for you."
In the dim gray light her darkened eyes were warm,
inviting, encouraging, trusting. She was the most beautiful
thing he'd ever seen. Angel or a nymph, he couldn't decide.
But tonight she'd be his.
"I'm not ... well I'm not as experienced as..."
He silenced her with a finger to her moist lips as his pulse
raced. "You've been here before though?" He sure hoped she
had, though it might explain her reluctance. Taking a virgin to
bed was not an arena he'd ever ridden in. So why did the
thought of someone else having her unsettle him? "With
Bradley, I take it?" He'd like to know all about Bradley, like
how close? For how long? And what did she feel for him now?
She nodded and worried her lip.
"He was the only one?" Not that it should matter how
many men she'd been with. He'd never been a hypocrite
about that kind of thing. But with her, he didn't want there to
be any others.
She nodded again.
Relief. And he was being a hypocrite.
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Needing to touch her, he ran his hand down her torso, past
her budding breasts. This time she didn't flinch as his fingers
skimmed those sweet nipples. She seemed insecure about her
body, about whether she was attractive. Hell, he'd never been
so attracted to a woman. Delicate and finely made, she made
him want to be tender and loving. He rested his palm upon
the silky bare skin of her stomach. Lovely.
Usually, he'd just shuck his clothes, enjoy a little foreplay,
and then go at it hard and fast. Tonight he wanted to take his
time, savor her like a fine wine, make it matter, make it
memorable.
The idea some other man had made it memorable for her
was jabbing at him. "Bradley must have been a special man
to get such a gift." Why was he feeling jealous? It had been
before he knew her and he'd never even met this Bradley.
"Once I thought so," she said. She ran her hand up his
arm leaving a trail of heat before resting it on his shoulder.
"He's not now?" He swirled his thumb over her navel. Soft,
smooth, warm skin. He nipped her shoulder. The fragrance of
flowers was like incense, drugging him.
Talking about a woman's former lover when all he wanted
was to bury himself deep within her wasn't his smoothest
move, but he had to know. It mattered. It shouldn't have. He
knew that. But it did.
"No." She shifted slightly, angling her neck for better
access. He feathered kisses along its swanlike length. "And
you? Was there ... is there anyone special."
No. There was no one. Had been no one. Until now. "Just
you."
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She smiled, a lovable, enticing smile. "At this moment,"
she said.
Agree. Tell her it's just this moment. That's what she's
expecting. Saying anything else will set her up with
expectations you may not be able to fulfill. She's not going to
run if you tell her it's just for now. But his heart wasn't
listening to his mind. "No, darling. For more than this
moment. Could be for much more."
Her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. Lips,
soft and sweet, met his. He shifted, moved on top of her,
covering the lithe body underneath him.
"Your buckle," she gasped.
He jerked back, let go a curse. Already he'd hurt her. His
thighs straddled her hips as he fumbled for the clasp.
"Let me," she said and reached for the belt.
His heart was pounding as he watched her small hands
undo the large silver buckle. His erection was pressing
uncomfortably against the tight fabric. Watching her fingers
brush against him made things a whole lot tighter. When the
buckle was undone, her hand grazed his length as she tugged
down the zipper. Damn, it was hot despite the air-
conditioning.
"I'll take it from here," he said. He pulled back from her
and set a foot on the floor to steady himself. His cock jutted
out as he slipped the jeans and underwear down his legs in
one motion and then stepped out. When he turned to look at
her, her eyes were wide and rounded.
A satisfied smile claimed him. "Now I get to do you," he
said, as he climbed back on the bed. In one movement he
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drew the white cotton bikini pants down her limbs and off. A
small patch of curly corn silk guarded the juncture of her
slender thighs.
His erection throbbing with need, his pulse jumping with
anticipation, he captured her hips, straddling her between his
knees. He was going to make this good for her.
Her fine-boned body was toned and sculpted, probably
from the work she did at Mercy Creek rather than any gym.
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