Cowboy Crazy (The Dalton Boys Book 1) (8 page)

He planted a hand on her ass cheek and pulled her into his hand while tweaking her nipple through the cloth of her nightgown. He slicked her juices over her nubbin, swirling around then into a figure eight pattern.

Her breathing grew choppier, her movements jerkier. She was getting close, and goddamn, she was so ripe and beautiful. He didn’t care if he ever got off, as long as he got to witness her release.

He pressed the hood of her clit, locating her hard core.

“Ohhh!” She rocked, taking what she needed with no idea that he would give her the world.

His cock throbbed behind his fly, and his heart beat double time. He wanted to sink into this woman, not just bodily, but in all ways. So odd, since he’d only known her a short spell. But he’d heard of relationship happening this way.

Whatever was going on, he would hold onto it, not let it slip away.

He splayed his fingers and pressed one inside her. Soaking heat clutched at his digit, driving him crazier. “Sugar, you’re killing me. You’re so beautiful, making those sounds.”

Her lips opened wider, her eyes closed in concentration. He sucked on her throat and plucked her nipple while circling her clit and driving one finger into her tight sheath.

“Hank!” The first pulsation travelled up his finger, through his wrist and arm. As she came apart around him, he gathered her closer and stole her cries with his kiss. Wild with need and wilder with the knowledge that he was giving her ecstasy, he delivered a bruising kiss.

Cream flooded his fingers, and he burned to stretch her out on the bedroll, dive between her legs and taste her release.

She went boneless in his hold, and he slowed his touch and kiss. Extreme tenderness welled in him, and words he probably shouldn’t utter landed on his tongue.

When she leaned her forehead against his, panting hard, he lost it—his heart no longer beat to keep on living—it beat for Charlotte.

* * *

Charlotte’s body hummed and pleasure shocks still rolled through her. How had she come to be in this place? One minute she was stranded along a road and the next she was straddling a big cowboy with magical fingers.

His arousal bulged between them, and she knew he must be aching for release too. Was she ready for intimacy? Getting to second base was very different from joining bodies.

In a few weeks, she’d never see him again. It wasn’t fair to cross home plate—for either of them.

“Hank…”

He cradled her against his bare chest, and she breathed his manly scent. Her mind was whirling with scenarios and her body still pulsated. When he rubbed small circles on her back, she relaxed. He wasn’t an animal, pushing her to seal the deal right now.

Leaning away, she drank in his god-like features. Straight nose, strong jaw, calm brow. His eyes turned her to jelly, because they were soft and warm with emotion.

She pressed her palms against his chest, over hard pecs and the steely ridges just below. He was made for hard work—or hard work had made him. Stephen was nothing like this man, and that’s why she’d given a piece of her trust to Hank.

But she couldn’t fool him into believing she’d be in his life for longer than a few days. She shivered.

“You cold, sugar?” He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and her heart squeezed. He was thoughtful and giving. So different from anything she’d ever known.

But she wasn’t for him. He deserved someone whole. Her body might be healed, even if it did bear a twisted scar, but her mind wasn’t sewn back together yet.

She wasn’t ready for more, and Hank needed something better.

“Hank, what are we doing?”

He nuzzled her throat, rubbing his nose back and forth over her curls. “This is called country lovin’, sugar. I’ve never adored this porch swing so much.”

Fighting a giggle, she was amazed by his words. His low tone buried deep in her, and the fires she’d thought to be doused rekindled.

She slid off his lap and stood a foot away. If he leaned forward, he could grasp her and pull her back where she wanted to be so damn bad it hurt. She wanted to believe there could be more for her in life than pain and nightmares.

A crease formed between his long brows, cutting her to the core.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do this.”

He gave a small shake of his head. “I’m not asking you to go to bed with me, Charlotte. All I’m asking is to let this seed between us grow.” He held out a big hand, and she was unnerved to see it shake slightly.

She stepped back. “What we just did—you’re amazing, Hank. But it can’t continue. I’m only here for a short time, then I’ll be on my way and you’ll lead your life.”

He compressed his lips, huffing out a breath through his nose. His chest worked. “I don’t do things like this. I don’t lay hands on girls I don’t have feelings for.” His voice broke, ripping her open a little more.

She spread her hands. “Me either. And it was…” she gave a full body shudder, “one of the best experiences of my life. But I need some distance.”

He met her gaze. “You’re the one who came to me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

He clenched a fist and rested it on his knee. “Why not? What aren’t you telling me? Do you have a boyfriend somewhere? A fiancé? Husband, kids?”

Shock tore through her. “No!”

“Then what? I know you have secrets. We don’t know each other well, but I’m willing to learn.”

He was breaking her heart, and she didn’t know how. She’d allowed him to touch her a little, kiss her and give her release. Somewhere along the way she’d given him a small chunk of herself. Now she had to take it back.

“I’m sorry, Hank, but I can’t.” Before she could see the pain on his rugged face, she hurried to the door and slipped back inside. Breathing hard, she leaned against the door, staring at her dark surroundings.

None of it belonged to her. It was easy to feel a sense of belonging, and the thought of leaving infused such a feeling of homesickness that she could barely breathe.

As she mounted the stairs and climbed into Hank’s bed, she longed for the man lying out on the porch floor, probably kicking himself for bringing her home. He had to be thinking that she was no good.

He was right.

Chapter Five

“What’s got your Wranglers up your butt?” Cash leaned on his shovel and eyed Hank.

He shot him a warning look and kept shoveling. “No wedgies here.”

“No? You’ve been in a funk for a week. Are you pissed that you didn’t go into Austin with us?”

“Hell, no. I don’t believe for a minute you’re going to walk into a bar in Austin and find a girl who wants to live her life on a secluded ranch.”

“Ah. So you believe that woman’s right under your nose, huh? Say, in the kitchen takin’ Momma’s orders?”

Hank pushed out a sigh. Since Charlotte had left him reeling—aching—that night after he’d pleasured her, he’d had a hell of a time concentrating. There were jobs on the ranch that needed doing, but he couldn’t see anything but the sweet little woman he’d had in his arms.

For hours after she’d gone back inside, he’d lain on the hard floor, beating himself up for making some mistake. As far as he could see, he hadn’t been in the wrong, though. She’d pulled away. He hadn’t pressured her. She’d walked.

Still, he couldn’t stay away from her. He found himself in the house every chance he got, watching her whirl through rooms tidying up and learning to bake just like his Momma.

And the way she threw him sidelong glances burned him up with desire. He could practically still smell her on his hands.

He swiped a palm over his face. “I don’t want to discuss Charlotte. Only thing going on is me fixing her car.”

“Yeah, and you spend all night doing it. No wonder you’re grumpy—you can’t be getting more than four hours of sleep.” Cash dug into the manure pile again. Scoop, pitch, scoop, pitch. They worked in a rhythm that provided a bit of calm to Hank. Before Charlotte, he’d been content. Now, he felt as if ants crawled under his skin.

After half an hour of straight shoveling, Hank put his hand tool down and grabbed his thermos. It was filled with ice water, and he drank off most of it, sweat running down his body. He recapped the thermos and looked at his brother. “So how did the wife hunt go?”

Closest in age, they’d always shared a lot. Cash was a prankster and had a tendency to make small things into a big deal, but his antics always made Hank smile. Right now, he could use some cheering up.

“Well, we tried our best. We went as a group, thinking the ladies would fall all over us. I mean, we aren’t without good looks.” He plucked at the buttons of his western shirt.

Hank smiled crookedly. Cash had always been cocky, but usually it just made him funnier.

“And we got some attention. Danced and bought drinks for some cute gals. But we were a little country bumpkin compared to city slickers. We didn’t have fast cars, and the ladies wanted to leave in them. So we split up and tried some smaller bars around town. I found a nice girl who worked in the hotel lobby, but after talking to her for two days, I found out she was engaged.” He rolled his eyes.

“Man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, and she was the only one I was actually interested in learning more about.”

Hank knew the feeling, but he didn’t say so.

“So what’s really going on with you and Charlotte?”

Time to shovel again. He picked up the tool and went at it. “Her car broke down, I picked her up. I’m fixing her tranny in exchange for her helping Momma. That’s it.”

“She doesn’t look at you as if that’s it.”

Hank’s heart did a slow somersault. “Are you gonna lean on that shovel or use it?”

With a grin, his brother started working alongside him, but he didn’t have the sense to stop talking.

“She looks at you like she’s hungry and you’re a big old donut.”

He shook his head, disregarding his brother’s words. They’d just give him hope—it already leaped in his chest—but Charlotte had obviously sworn him off. She hadn’t said more than two sentences to him all week.

“Well, if you’re not interested, maybe I’ll try to get somewhere with her. She’s mighty pretty. Soft and sweet.”

He stopped shoveling and glared at his brother. “She’s off limits.”

“Why? I need a wife if I want that land, and she’s here. I like her.”

“Get over it. You’re not touching her.”

Grinning, Cash scooped up manure and hurled it at Hank. It struck his shins and slid down to cover his boots. Hank lowered his head, ready to charge his pipsqueak brother and pound the piss outta him like he did when they were little.

“Do that again and you’ll find yourself flat on your back in this pile.”

He laughed. “I’d like to see you try, bro. If you’re so protective of Charlotte, why aren’t you pursuing her more?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait—you tried and she pushed you away?”

His pride took a hit, which made his tongue loosen. “Not exactly. She let me touch her.”

“And?”

“That’s it. Afterward, she closed up. I haven’t gotten through the door since.”

“Dayummm. You must really have bad technique.”

It was Hank’s turn to throw a shovelful of shit at his brother. It hit him square in the chest and ran off him in smelly chunks.

“You’re askin’ for it, bro.”

“Let’s go.” Hank poised, ready to fling cow pies in his brother’s face if it would shut him up about Charlotte. But five breathless, laughing minutes later, all he was left with was the need to hit the shower.

Even though her car still sat in the garage, it was as if Charlotte had already driven away.

* * *

For three weeks Charlotte had been on the Paradise Valley Ranch. In that time, she’d learned how to bake everything from biscuits to bread, and homemade donuts to blueberry pies. She could make a mean chicken gravy, and failed twice at the Dalton’s favorite country fried steak. The boys had been nice, forking the burned meat into their mouths, but she knew how bad it tasted.

Still, most of the things she tried her hand at were successful. At least when she left, she’d practically have a degree in home-cooking.

She leaned against the sink and stared out the window at the setting sun. The kitchen was clean after dinner, and Mrs. Dalton had used her brand new set of crutches to get into the living room, saying Jeopardy and her recliner were calling.

The times Charlotte wasn’t scrubbing mud off the floors or folding whipped cream into a fruit and nut salad, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Usually Hank came inside and she’d hurry to find busy work, but today he’d stayed away.

All day.

Cash had come in and talked her ear off about calving season, though. While the topic fascinated a city girl like Charlotte, she wished it was Hank doing the talking.

If she were honest with herself, she missed him.

Stupid. I don’t know him enough to miss him.

But she knew his crooked smile when he’d taken a bite of her first dumpling, how his hair stuck up when he came into the house after a long night on the porch.

And how good his rough fingers felt as she rode them.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to ignore the heat coursing through her body. She wasn’t getting any relief from this deep ache, and it was her own fault. If she went to Hank again, he wouldn’t turn her away. The burning in his eyes assured her that he still wanted her.

She could spend the last few weeks of her stay enjoying him. What was holding her back?

The knowledge that he wanted more. It was written all over the cowboy—the way he looked at her, the way he moved when he was around her. And he wasn’t the type of man to love ’em and leave ’em. If she slept with Hank, he wouldn’t take it lightly.

It had taken her all of a week to discover he was a forever kind of guy.

A gorgeous Dalton boy strode into her view, long legs eating up the yard. He wore his hat low and his T-shirt was tucked in his back pocket, dangling down one chiseled thigh. Muscles glistening in the sun.

Hank. She stopped breathing.

Prince bounded into view, ears stiff and tail wagging for attention. Hank paused to ruffle the dog’s coat before continuing on.