Blackbird Lake (29 page)

Through the shadowy darkness she saw the outline of his powerful body and the hard thrust of his jaw. “Carly. You all right?” His deep voice sounded as alert as if it was five o’clock in the afternoon and not five in the morning.

“I couldn’t sleep.” It was an effort but she forced herself to stop staring at that broad, muscled chest. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped into the room, only to remember, too late, that
she
was wearing only a long pink tank. And a wisp of lacy ivory thong.

A flush surged through her cheeks. Why hadn’t she thought to toss on a robe?

She didn’t allow herself to linger over the question. Or the answer.

“I…was going to put on some coffee.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “No way am I falling back asleep,” she murmured, even as she inched another step closer to the dangerously handsome cowboy watching her from the pullout bed.

It should definitely be a felony for any man to look that sexy, she decided, her heart thudding. All muscles and hotness and manly five-o’clock-in-the-morning stubble. It just wasn’t fair.

“I’ve been tossing and turning most of the night,” she heard herself say. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well when Emma is at Martha’s. I miss her. Little troublemaker that she is.” God, she was babbling. She never babbled. But she’d never had Jake Tanner half naked in a bed in her house, either.

“Careful. That’s my kid you’re talking about.” He grinned and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t take kindly to anyone calling my daughter a troublemaker.”

The glint of humor in those midnight blue eyes made her heart skip, oh, three or four beats. Okay, maybe six. Enough so it was hard to breathe.

“She definitely takes after you—in a lot of ways. And she’s not even two yet.” Carly almost succeeded in keeping her voice steady, just this side of sarcastic—all the while thinking that she should really back up and walk away—no,
run
away—down the stairs and straight into the kitchen. She needed coffee. Not Jake. So why wasn’t she going?

“Yeah?” He slanted her a look that shot tingles down to her magenta-painted toes. She forced herself not to stare at the breadth of those shoulders or the taut muscles of his chest. The lower part of Mr. Sexy’s body was covered by the bedsheet, but what she could see above it was just as she remembered from that long-ago night. Wide muscular chest, rock-hard abs, every inch of that gorgeous body gleaming in the moonlight that floated through the curtain.

Not that she was looking or anything, she told herself. She was only glancing now and then.

His face. Look at his face,
a voice inside instructed her.

But that was an equally perilous option. That rugged,
darkly handsome face, the strong nose, the sexy little cleft in his chin. That whole rugged alpha male thing he had going on was enough to unnerve better women than her.

He was studying her right back as she hesitated only a few feet away from him. The intensity in his gaze had her shivering again—but this time for a whole different reason.

“Why don’t you come over here and tell me exactly how Emma takes after me?” he drawled in his deep voice.

“Sounds like a dare.”

“It is.”

She met those challenging eyes, darker, bluer, deeper than an ocean at sunset, and her gaze shifted once more to his chest, lightly matted with dark hair. Of course she couldn’t help glancing at those wide cowboy shoulders. Though the sheet still hid the lower half of that tall, lean body, she could well imagine…actually, she
remembered…

And she edged closer.

“Sure you don’t want to go back to sleep?” she asked. A little flame caught inside her at his ear-to-ear grin.

“Trust me, sleep has never been further from my mind.”

Leaning forward so suddenly she gasped, he reached out a long arm and snagged her hand, tugging her toward the bed and right down on top of him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs splayed across the blanket covering his thighs. When her breathless yelp turned into a laugh, he smiled slowly, then tightened one arm around her and, with his other hand, stroked his fingers through her sleep-mussed hair.

Uh-oh. Trapped on a bed. With the sexiest cowboy this side of the Rio Grande.
You’re in trouble now, girl.

She knew she should pull back, way back. Right now. But her reflexes didn’t seem to be operating properly….

“
How
is Emma like me exactly?” Jake asked casually, as if they weren’t lying almost naked together on his bed. As if lust—
her
lust, at least—wasn’t gobbling up all the air between them.

Before she could summon up any coherent words with
which to answer him, he leaned forward and began nibbling his way gently down her neck. Oh, she was in real trouble now. Jake knew just how to nibble…and
where….

She needed to put an end to this. Wriggle away from him. Tell him to stop right now. But roaring need pulsed through her as he trailed those warm, delicious kisses across her throat. Caressed his way seductively along her jaw. And melted every rational and cautious instinct she’d ever possessed.

So instead of pulling away, she nestled closer. And he brushed another kiss along the shell of her ear.

“She’s…um, adventurous…reckless…d-daring…” Carly managed to say. She couldn’t think clearly. Not when his mouth blazed hot against her skin. “Her…eyes are the same color as y-yours—”

That was as far as she got.

Her brain closed down completely as he slipped his hand beneath her tank and began stroking her breast. Rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Driving her crazy. He knew
exactly
how to touch her—everywhere—and his lips…they tasted of heat and fire and spice. With a moan she gave up any thought of pulling away and instead slid her arms around his neck and parted her lips, inviting him in, needing to taste more, feel more….

She wanted him. All of him….

A shudder of pleasure shimmered through her as his tongue swept inside her mouth, stroking, flicking. Instinctively she closed her lips around it and sucked. He gave a groan and she felt the entire length of his body, every hard inch of muscle and sinew, tighten and clench. The next thing she knew, he’d captured her in his strong arms and was kissing her back, openmouthed, with a deep, slow possessiveness. Lingering, deep kisses that suddenly changed, in a heartbeat, into something more.

Something wilder, hotter, needier.

Too late to escape now,
Carly thought happily, her hands stroking through his thick dark hair. Whatever measly willpower she once might have possessed had turned to mush.

All his fault,
she decided as their mouths and tongues stroked and licked, as a thrill of heat spread like a wildfire inside her, leaving no space for anything else.

“You have any idea how beautiful you are?” His hands were exploring her slowly, no rush. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you when I saw you in Houston that night. And I still can’t.”

“You’re just trying to get me into bed,” she breathed against his lips, as her fingertips slowly explored all the scars and muscles and sinew that defined his body.

“Here’s some news for you, girl.” His hand slid over her bare bottom and squeezed. “I’ve already
got
you in bed. And you’re even sexier than I remembered.”

She got lost in his words as much as in the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her. A few moments later the bedsheet and the blanket and quilt all ended up in a heap on the floor as they frantically kissed and cuddled and tousled some more. He’d been sleeping in his jeans, but they were about to be gone, she promised herself as she rubbed her hand against his thick erection. Her breath was coming in short, happy gasps. How could it not, when he was sliding those clever hands up and down her body, slowly stroking her, arousing her everywhere?

A sane little voice in her head tried to tell her that they should stop now. That she wasn’t thinking clearly, that she should push him away, bolt down the stairs, brew some coffee. Or mop the floor, for heaven’s sake!

She should do something sane and normal and
safe
, like she always did, but somehow she was still kissing Jake, touching him. Frantically flicking at the button of his jeans and trying to slide the zipper down past the enormous bulge of his erection.

And he was still cradling her against him, his mouth drawing at hers with a growing urgency that made her forget everything else but this room, this bed,
him
.

They kissed and stroked and touched in the dark, locked together—sharing long, hungry, delicious kisses—before she suddenly was struck by an instant of sanity. She froze.

“Jake, we’re crazy, aren’t we? What the hell are we d-doing?” She was hot with lust, but also suddenly unsure.

“Do we really need to stop so I can explain it all to you?”

“Don’t you
dare
stop anything…if you even think about stopping…I might have to…to hurt you,” she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders, sliding down his back.

“Wow. Scared now.” He laughed. “Do your worst, baby.” And then, in one smooth move, he yanked her pink tank over her head and tossed it aside.

“You know we’re both acting crazy.” She pulled him closer as he stroked her breasts. “We…made a bargain to be friends…just friends.”

“Hell, if this isn’t friendly, Carly, I don’t know what is.” Jake caught her lips suddenly in a kiss so strong and deep and slow that it didn’t end until there was no breath left in either of them. She ached with pleasure when his tongue slipped inside her mouth again and she gave herself up to the dark, musky taste of him, to his leather and spice scent.

When he turned his full attention to one of her nipples, his tongue playing, circling, teasing, and then shifting gradually to the other, she closed her eyes and moaned. She was almost too distracted by quickening tingles to notice him making short work of sliding her thong down her thighs.

Excitement beat through her when he tossed it across the floor. But when he slid a condom from a pocket of his jeans, then stripped the wrapper off with ease, her head cleared enough to murmur, “We tried those once and they didn’t work, if you remember.”

“And we’re damned lucky they didn’t,” he said huskily. His eyes gleamed as she took over, eagerly sliding the condom in place.

Then he moved with the grace of a leopard, covering her body with his own, bracing an arm on either side of her to protect her from his weight. His voice thickened in the faint amber-pink light of dawn now stealing through the window.

“Maybe we’ll end up two for two.” The smile on his face made her heart somersault and her brain whirl.

Are you kidding me?
was what she was going to blurt, but before she could get the words out he was kissing her again, kissing her mouth, her throat, her breasts, licking the hard, exquisitely sensitive peaks of her nipples. His hands were clever and wicked as only an All-American cowboy’s hands could be, and the way he touched her made her gasp with pleasure and burn for more. His mouth scorched its way down her body before, with slow, deliberate strength, he finally eased himself over her, fitting himself inside her, going slow and deep, then deeper still, into her center, filling her, pumping and thrusting as she clutched him to her.

She held on, tight, small, wild cries bursting from her. Time and space wavered. Blended. There was only Jake, inside her. His touch, his kiss, his strength. His voice saying her name and his body hot and lean and strong, making her gasp and cry out and bury her face against the warmth of his neck as they joined together in a blur of deep, pure pleasure.

Their lovemaking was sweet and wild and intense. It was different from that night in Houston. Then he’d been practically a stranger, tough, fascinating, and mysterious.

Now…

Now she wasn’t trying to forget someone else. She was here with him, wanting him, not just because he was her childhood hero or rock-star sexy. But because he was Jake—who’d fixed her screen door the week before, who was trying to teach Emma old cowboy ballads he’d learned from his father’s foreman as a kid. Who had stayed here tonight because he cared about her and knew she needed him.

He was kind, calm, fearless, and steady Jake. The daring rodeo rider and the solid-as-a-rock man. The father who made Emma laugh effortlessly, whose face Carly had secretly longed to see in the crowd the night of the auction—though she’d never have admitted it to a soul. The man who made her heart miss a beat whenever she heard his voice or saw him standing on her front porch waiting to be admitted, his black Stetson shading those midnight eyes.

Jake.

After another bout of slow, delicious lovemaking that lasted even longer than the first, a silver-pink dawn drifted gradually into the room, delicate as a dream. She spooned against him, their bodies warm, close, somehow more intimately linked even than when they’d been making love.

Just before she slipped into sleep in his arms, she felt the brush of his lips on the back of her neck.

“I’ll be here just like this when you wake up,” he said quietly. “That’s a promise.”

And those were the last words she heard before drifting into a long, deep, untroubled slumber.