Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (12 page)

She spun around to face him, but her hands
covered her breasts. Her eyes shot icy blue daggers at him, as her
hips found stilted time with the music. She wasn’t dancing, she was
swaying, and that just wasn’t enough. The need to see her pert
little breasts, the beautiful mounds he’d fantasized about seeing
for ten years, hit him in the center of the chest. This would
probably be his only chance. “Move your goddamn hands, Twyla. I
said I want to see your tits!” he shouted angrily, one hand
squeezing his cell phone tighter, while the other stroked his
cock.

Twyla whimpered, her hands fluttered down to
her sides, and she closed her eyes. His eyes locked on her pink
areolas in the center of perfect, handful-sized mounds. Perfect
mouthful-sized mounds he corrected, as his mouth watered for a
taste of her. His tongue tingled to feel the raspy roughness of the
rigid berry-colored buttons at the center. She finally danced now,
popping her hips, and her breasts bounced as she danced. Ryan’s
heart was pounding in his chest and he fought for breath. His
fucking palms burned to test the weight of those peaks, to tease
her nipples until she screamed. God, he wanted to hear her scream
his name. To make her come for him, so he could see her
face.

That would be the ultimate turn-on, his
ultimate satisfaction, but Ryan knew it wasn’t happening. This was
a lesson, not a prelude to sex, he reminded himself. He had no
plans to satisfy the desire clawing at his insides. But damn if
that wasn’t just what he wanted to do, Zack and the Taylor family
be damned. The orgasm building inside his body was like a lava flow
from a dormant volcano that was long overdue due to erupt. The
ultimate satisfaction would be burying himself in her tight body
and finally knowing how damned sweet she was as he found his
release.

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy followed the
previous song, Ryan’s balls tightened and he bit back a groan. He
wondered if there was some cosmic DJ picking the music for that
station, because that’s exactly what he wanted this long, tall
cowgirl to do to him right then. He’d have to settle for the next
best thing. “Come over here and give me a lap dance, and it better
be good.”

Twyla’s movements stuttered then stopped. “I
can’t do that,” she said in a raw voice. Ryan refused to look at
her eyes, because he knew he’d find tears there again.

“
Oh, yeah you can. I know you
probably do that at the bar for tips too. You’d have done it at
that party.” He finally dragged his eyes to hers. “I paid you a
thousand bucks, and you’re going to give me a fucking lap dance.
And it better be a good one, Twyla. The best one I’ve ever had, or
I’m calling Granny.”

Ryan stood and shoved his jeans and underwear
down, he toed off his boots, then stepped out of the jeans. When he
stood back up, Twyla was staring at his engorged dick, gnawing her
lower lip. Her chest heaved with her breaths, and her fists were
curled at her sides. Ryan fisted himself then sat back on the
couch. He didn’t want to see her face while she did this, and he
didn’t want her to see him come. It would be too weird. And he knew
he was going to come when he imagined himself sliding up into her
tight, wet heat, as her hips moved over him while she
danced.

He was almost there already.

“
Turn around and show me your ass.
Bend over when you dance like you did at the bar. I want to see
your wet pussy.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Stop being vulgar! I am
not doing that!” she said, her tone rising an octave with each
word.

Ryan shrugged with a helluva lot more
nonchalance than he was feeling. “Won’t be anything I haven’t seen,
Twyla, and you’re a pro at this remember? I could almost see the
goodies at that bar in those shorts anyway.”

“
I am a dancer, not a stripper or
whore!” she shouted, then held out her hand. “I’m not letting you
treat me this way! Give me your damned phone and I’ll call Zack and
tell him!”

“
Dancer, stripper, whore. Half a
dozen of one or six of the other,” he replied calmly meeting her
angry gaze. “I don’t think your family would like to hear that
you’re doing any of them,” he challenged, and sat his phone on the
sofa beside him. “What do you think?”

Her face fell, and she looked down at her
hands, which were now twisting in front of her.

“
You think they’d be proud of what
you’re doing here, Twy?” he repeated, wanting her to admit what she
was doing was wrong. “Are you proud of yourself?”

A big fat teardrop landed on her hands
followed by another, then it was raining on her hands, and her body
shook violently. He thought her knees might give out she was
shaking so hard, so he pulled her to him and onto his lap. His arms
closed around her and she buried her face in his shoulder. It
wasn’t long before her tears soaked his shirt. He held her tight
and rocked her, until the tremors became intermittent, then he
kissed her hair. Guilt swamped him, when she whimpered. “I’m sorry,
baby. I didn’t mean to talk to you like that…but you needed to
see.”

She sat up and dragged in a shuddering breath,
then scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and came away
with black streaks. “You are a bastard,” she ground out, then
pushed off of his lap. She started to walk off toward the bathroom,
but he grabbed her wrist.

“
I won’t argue with you there. I
have been a bastard for years, and that’s not likely to change.
You, however, are not a whore, honey.”

“
I’m not going to dance forever.
Just until I get enough money to buy my guns and tack.”

Ryan stood, then gently took her shoulders to
turn her to face him. Her face was a mess, black streaks tracked to
the corners of her mouth, which was swollen from her gnawing. “What
the hell do you need guns for? And what were you doing out there
with that cowboy today?”

Her eyes dropped to his throat. “Learning to
do cowboy mounted shooting. Randy is a world champion shooter, he’s
teaching me. That is what I want to be doing.”

“
Well, Randy wants to be doing
you,” Ryan growled his fingers digging into her soft skin. “And
that’s not happening.” She sniffled, and blew out a breath, then
pushed against his chest, but Ryan held her. “I’m not going to let
it happen, Twyla.”

Twyla slammed her fist into his shoulder.
“You’re worse than Zack! Why the hell not? Randy is a good
man!”

“
He’s not good enough for you,”
Ryan said evenly. She looked up at him with so much misery in her
eyes, he wanted to hold her until it went away. To do whatever it
took to make sure she never looked that way again.

“
According to you and my brother,
no man is good enough.” Her lower lip wobbled again, and his eyes
fixed there as she fought to still it. “I should just join a damned
nunnery and you two will be happy. I like Randy and I want him
too.”

Ryan heard the words, saw her lips move to
form them, but his brain refused to accept them. Those beautiful
lips tightened, and her breath whispered against his throat, as she
said, “I’m a grown woman, Ryan, but y’all refuse to accept that. A
woman with needs. Y’all are hound dogs, have whoever you damn well
please, but every time I find a man I might be interested in, who
might be interested in me, you get in the middle. Where’s the
fairness in that?”

The only part of her statement Ryan could
focus on was the fact that Twyla wanted a man other than him, was
contemplating being with another man. Jealousy punched him in the
gut and stole his breath. He couldn’t even find enough to
speak.

“
It’s not fair, and I’m old enough
to make my own choices. I’m done letting you, or Zack make them for
me.” She pushed against his chest again, and Ryan was so stunned he
let her go. “Just leave me alone, Ryan. If it upsets you that much,
and you think it would upset the family, I’ll get a job at the
burger joint, and work part time at the barn to pay my board. It’ll
take me twice as long to get where I need to be, while paying half
the expenses here, but I’ll do it. If you and Zack will just leave
me alone, I’ll do that.”

Leave her alone. To be with Randy.

A sense of loss more profound than he’d ever
felt in his life engulfed him as he watched her walk toward her
bedroom. Emotion shot up to his head and it pounded in time with
his heart. Ryan staggered back to sit on the sofa. For ten years,
he’d pushed Twyla away, dodged her advances and fought his
attraction to her. It looked like he didn’t have to push anymore,
and the fight was over. She was walking away on her own
accord.

Now that she said she’d quit the bar, he
really had no reason to stay here. She would be safe living here
with Heather, as long as she wasn’t at that bar, he admitted
grudgingly. It wasn’t optimal in his opinion, but his opinion
didn’t matter. Twyla was grown and could make her own decisions.
One of those decisions was she had evidently outgrown him. He knew
now she had a roof over her head, and food in her refrigerator,
he’d looked. Twyla didn’t need him, and she didn’t need her
brother.

She would have Randy, the man she wanted. And
a new career eventually. A life that didn’t include either Ryan or
Zack.

He did need to find out more about that cowboy
mounted shooting to make sure she could support herself, after
investing so much into it. But that really wasn’t his business
either, now was it? From what he’d seen, the sport wasn’t any more
dangerous than barrel racing, and Twyla seemed to like it. She was
a grown woman and didn’t need him telling her what to
do.

With a feeling of numbness inside, Ryan got up
and put on his underwear and jeans. He staggered to the front door
and unlocked the three locks, then walked out, closing it quietly
behind him. He definitely wasn’t feeling the peace he thought he’d
feel when Twyla was no longer chasing him, when he didn’t have to
dodge her.

He felt strange, empty…lost.

***

Twyla scrubbed her face until every trace of
the thick makeup was gone, every ounce of the heartache was purged
from her system. Well, every ounce of this new wave. That feeling
was going to be with her for a long time. Half of her heart would
always be on the road, tucked into Ryan Easter’s back pocket. She
just had to accept that. Seeing him again told her that no matter
how hard she tried to separate herself from those feelings, they
would always be with her. He would always be a part of
her.

But Randy also gave her hope today that she
might eventually be able to move on. She needed to move on. Ryan
Easter was finished business, and she just needed to accept that.
Why then was her heart bleeding so badly in her chest?

Because what he’d done to her a few minutes
ago had been a reality check. Ryan had been trying to teach her a
lesson, and had succeeded tenfold. Two points had been driven home
during his instruction. One was that Ryan Easter did not want her
that way, and never would. Never had. When she was sitting naked
and raw in his lap, he would have at least kissed her, if there was
even a spark there. The second lesson was she was not cut out to be
an exotic dancer. Heather had the moves and attitude for it, but
Twyla didn’t.

Ryan was right that her family would be
mortified if they knew.

Telling Ryan she would give it up hadn’t been
difficult. Twyla hated it. His shock therapy tactics convinced her
of that. It also convinced her that he would never want her the way
she had always wanted him, waited for him to want her. After he’d
extracted a promise from her that she’d give up the dancing, he’d
lit out of here like his tail was on fire. That proved his sole
purpose for coming to Dallas was to check up on her for Zack. To
make sure she wasn’t doing anything they didn’t approve of. He
hadn’t come here to tell her he missed her and wanted
more.

Because he didn’t.

For ten years, Twyla had been kidding herself
that there was something there. Ten wasted fucking years on a man
who thought she was his kid sister. Ryan hadn’t been staying away
from her because of Zack’s threats, and posturing like she thought.
He just plain didn’t want more from her. She was his sister, and he
had his buckle bunnies. Why the hell would he look twice at an
irritating, gangly tomboy who mooned after him like a lost
puppy?

He wouldn’t.

Twyla threw the washrag into the sink with
disgust at herself. She dropped her chin to her chest and took deep
calming breaths, exhaling slowly. When she finally thought she had
herself together, she grabbed her worn terry bath robe from the
hook on the back of the bathroom door and put it on. She yanked the
ends of the tie tight, and pulled the front together tighter across
her chest. Damn, she wished she had a box of Twinkies. If ever she
needed them, it was now. Maybe she’d get dressed again and run to
the store, she thought, as she left the bathroom to go to her room.
She would Twinkie Ryan Easter right out of her system.

But that wouldn’t do a damned thing except
make her sicker than she already felt. It was still early, maybe
she’d call Randy and tell him her plans had changed. At least that
would be a distraction from her misery. She reversed direction and
headed for the phone in the kitchen, but a loud knock sounded at
the front door.

With a groan, she padded toward the door
wondering who the hell it could be. Heather wouldn’t be knocking,
and Ryan was gone. Maybe it was Bud the maintenance man who liked
to pay them surprise visits, she thought, as she went to unlock the
door and saw all three latches were undone. Ryan hadn’t even locked
the bottom lock, which surprised her.