Faith in the Cowboy (Taming the Cowboy) (11 page)

“I didn’t bring extra clothes,” she protested.

His only response was to pull her close with one hand and strip off her shirt with the other. She gasped when the momentum brought her against his chest, skin to skin. His big, rough hands rested on the small of her back. His chest was damp from exertion and the Kevlar, his scent concentrated, and she leaned forward to breathe him in.

He lifted one hand to the back of her head to stroke her hair. When she looked up, he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, making her knees weaken. Then he hooked his hand around her waist and hauled her into the tub.

“West!” she squealed when water hit her jeans.

“Let’s take care of those.” He pushed the denim down her hips, over her thighs, and knelt before her to get them off her feet. Once they were gone, he nuzzled the apex of her thighs, his tongue darting out to stroke her clit.

Once he’d tossed her jeans out of the tub, he pushed her thighs apart, his fingers high on her legs, and pressed his mouth to her pussy. Water rained down on his back as he licked her, his teeth scraping, his beard rasping. She tried to find purchase on the slick tiles, found nothing to hold onto but him, her fingers twisting in his hair. He made a sound of approval against her, his tongue stroking fast, then slow, as if he needed to taste all of her. His fingers slid up from her thigh to push deep inside. She gasped and dropped her head against the wall, absorbing the pleasure, letting it fill every cell of her body, feeling herself expand.

The orgasm slammed her back, hitting her deep inside, making her contract around his hand, her clit pulsing against his mouth. She pushed against him, letting him carry her down from her climax. Before she could sink to the bottom of the tub, West rose, holding her up.

He covered her mouth with his, her taste on his lips, on his tongue. Then he broke the kiss and turned her toward the wall. She gasped when her breasts touched the cold tile, then gasped again when he parted her legs and pressed his cock against the cleft of her ass.

He braced one hand beside her head, lifted her leg to the edge of the tub, and entered her. She gasped when he pushed deep and turned her head so her cheek was against the tile, her wet hair in the way when he kissed her jaw. His thrusts were measured, his knees pressing into the backs of her thighs, his chest against her back, holding her still as he fucked her.

She’d thought her arousal was spent, but the angle of his cock, his thickness, carried her up again. She wriggled, just a bit, and he pinned her more firmly, keeping her at his mercy.

He moved, slowly, grinding into her, as if he wanted her to feel everything, as if he wanted to drag each sensation out. His breath gusted against her ear, hot and heavy, his body shielded her from the cooling spray.

Just when she became accustomed to his pace, he moved faster. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten and release against the backs of her legs. He moved one hand to her lower belly, to protect her hips from slamming into the wall as he plunged into her. The proximity of his fingers to her clit made her crave another orgasm, and she pumped her hips into him. He growled in protest of her movements, but figured out what she wanted and slid his hand down, through her curls, over her swollen flesh, slamming into her at the same time, and she dissolved right there, against his hand. He thrust hard a dozen more times before he leaned into her, his cock pulsing inside her.

She became aware of the cool water a moment before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He stretched out beside her, coursing his hand over her body, breasts, belly, thigh, over the goosebumps that sprang up on her skin. She couldn’t believe her body surged to life again beneath his hand, that her legs parted for him, and he chuckled.

“More?” he asked.

“More.” She reached for his cock, wanting to feel it against her palm, but he caught her wrist and pinned it to the bed beside her head. She caught her breath, and he shifted to look into her eyes.

“Do you like that?”

She hesitated. What did it mean that him holding her down made her wet, made her ache. Damn, he’d made her come twice in the shower.

“What have you turned me into?”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Her face heated. “You know.”

“You know better than I do what you like.”

“I didn’t know what I liked until you showed me.”

That made him grin. “So what have I showed you that you want me to do again?”

The heat spread down her chest, but excitement spread with it. She’d never felt so sexual, so daring. “I...like your mouth on me.”

His nostrils flared. Then he lowered his head to brush his lips across her shoulder. “Like that?”

“I like that,” she said.

“But not what you want.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I like to feel your mouth on my skin.”

He flicked his tongue against her shoulder. “This is your skin.”

“My...breasts. My stomach. My legs.”

“Your legs?” He coursed his hand up the outside of her thigh to rest on her hip. The ache in her pussy tightened, needing him to fill her.

“Yes. Between them.”

He lifted his hand from her hip to her jaw, where he stroked lightly. “Look at me, Teresa. Look at me and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

She swallowed and looked into his blue eyes. “I want you to lick me. Between my legs.”

His eyes went dark at the words. “I can do that.”

A nervous laugh shook her. “I know.”

He gave a deep chuckle and levered himself over her, bending his head to her breast. Still holding her hand to the mattress, he rubbed his chin against her breast above her nipple, rasping it with his whiskers until she gasped, bowing off the bed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He parted her legs, his fingertips stroking lightly high on the inside of her thigh. Everything in her went tight in anticipation.

He sucked on her nipple, his mouth hot, his tongue flicking. She curled the fingers of her free hand around the back of his head and imagined what he was going to do to her pussy. She wanted to urge him downward, but at the same time, loved what he was doing to her breast.

Reading her mind—or her body language as she squirmed—he moved down her body, edging her legs over his shoulders and spread her. He looked at her pussy, then up at her face. The corner of his mouth quirked, and he licked, softly at first, before he settled between her legs, his tongue tracing her petals, before flicking her clit, first hard, then in soft, sweeping motions. He dipped the tip of his tongue into her channel, tearing a moan from her throat.

“Please, West, please.”

He hummed lightly against her and she lifted her hips against his mouth, not wanting to break contact. He used the flat of his tongue, sliding it up her pussy to return his attention to her clit. He released her hand to press her legs wider apart. He pressed two fingers into her as he nuzzled her clit, and she came in long, slow pulses, gripping his head, holding him to her.

He drew away and rose over her in one move, guiding his cock between her legs and into her. The slide of his cock in her contracting pussy took her up again, just when she thought she was coming down, and she met him stroke for breathless stroke, taking him deep, anticipating the slide as he left her body only to fill her again. Push and pull, the scent of their bodies combining, the sound of their joining filled the room, and still he kept his thrusts measured, deliberate, dragging out her pleasure.

He held her gaze, his hand cupping her cheek as he made love to her. Made love. She had no doubt that was what he was doing, and she had to fight the tears that wanted to flood her eyes. This. This was what she wanted. Forever.

Then his breath caught, and she felt him come inside her, his hips jerking against her before he bent to kiss her, so gentle. She wanted to turn away, wanted to run, but let him kiss her, let the tenderness flood her.

And she hid her eyes before he could see the tears.

*****

West circled his thumb around the palm of Teresa’s hand as they sat at the table near the bar. She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, had protested that she didn’t have the right clothes, that her make-up had washed off. But he’d wanted to bring her out, show her off. And hell, she was always beautiful.

He held her hand on the table as some of the cowboys he worked with came along. She tensed every time a cowboy smiled at her, which made him wonder if men made her nervous, or the fact that they paid attention to her in his presence. From what he’d been able to suss out about her husband, he’d been a prick. Was he a jealous prick, too, that made her feel bad when another man looked at her? West purposely kept his posture easy in the chair, his hand loose around hers. He wanted her to relax, to accept that men would find her attractive, that he would love her no matter what.

He sat forward at the thought, and caressed her cheek. She smiled, though her eyes were downcast. He hadn’t thought love was in the cards. He’d seen her, thought she was cute, liked the challenge of seducing someone with so many defenses in place.

But damn, watching those defenses falling away when she was in his arms, that was compelling as hell. And addictive. Even better, the walls didn’t go back up quite as high each time.

Except now. Now she was damn near Rapunzel.

He tugged her hand. “Come dance with me.”

True horror etched across her face. “I don’t dance.”

“What do you mean, you don’t dance?”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you.”

She met his gaze then, eyes wide. “In front of all these people? All of them know how to dance!”

“I’ll make you look good.” He leaned closer. “You’ve never been scared to try anything with me before.”

She blushed and studied his hand on hers, the way his fingertips brushed up and down the back of her hand. Then she raised dark eyes to him and nodded.

With a grin he knew was too cocky, he slid off the stool and guided her to the floor. The song was slow, which suited his intentions just fine. He rested his hand on the small of her back, above the waistband of her jeans. He rested his fingertips along her spine, took her hand and placed it on his shoulder, cupped her other hand in his.

“The pattern is step, together, step, together, step, step, step, together. Just follow me.”

She nodded, and looked down, as if trying to watch her feet in the narrow space between their bodies. He brought their joined hands between them and nudged her chin up.

“Trust me,” he said, and guided her.

She stumbled, blushed, apologized. He curved his fingers over her cheek and lifted her face for a kiss, then moved again, guiding her with his hand on her back. The tension in her face revealed her concentration.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” he chided, turning her to avoid another couple.

“I’m not very coordinated,” she said through her teeth.

“Okay.” The song was slow enough. He brought her closer to him and swayed in place. “This’ll do.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “This is all you wanted to begin with, isn’t it?”

“Hey, I like to dance.”

“So you can rub against a woman.”

“Nah, I like music.” He slid his hand to her ass. “This is just a bonus.”

“You like music?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“It doesn’t, I guess.” She shook her head. “I know more about your body than your mind.”

He glided his fingertips up her spine. “Early days, yet.”

“Aren’t you leaving soon?”

He sobered. His whole purpose for leaving Texas was to tour with the rodeo, do the job he loved. He hadn’t thought he’d be leaving anyone behind. It had been a long time since he’d had someone to leave. “Next week, after Taylor leaves.”

She nodded, but her entire body was tense against him.

“I’ll be back, Teresa. I want to continue seeing you.”

“We can decide that later.”

“Nothing to decide, Teresa.” He trailed his fingers through her hair. “I want to know you better. I want to spend time with you.”

“I don’t—my priority has to be my daughter.”

He tightened his fingers, anchored his hand behind her neck. “Of course it is. It will be. I’m not wanting to stand in the way of that. I just want to be part of your life. Be around. Got room for me?”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark. “I want to,” she said, low.

He’d take that, for now.

*****

West twisted and untwisted the boarding pass he’d had to get to pass through security at the airport so he could meet Taylor at the gate. He wished he’d brought Teresa, just to ease his nerves. And yes, as a buffer. Damn, he hated that he felt like he needed a buffer with his own kid.

His heart thundered in his chest when the people started trickling through the door. Then a flight attendant with her hand on the shoulder of a skinny blond boy walked out. West stood riveted for a long moment. God, Taylor had changed. How long had it been? The kid had always been tall for his age, and thin, but it looked like someone had stretched him. He was almost as tall as the flight attendant.

And he looked miserable. Great. Just what West was hoping for.

He forced his feet to move forward, forced his frozen face into a smile. He kept his gaze on the boy as he presented his paperwork and ID to the flight attendant. He was vaguely aware of the woman wishing them a good visit before he walked away.

“This all you brought?” he asked tapping the stuffed backpack.

Taylor nodded.

West felt like the moment to hug the boy had passed. Instead he put his arm around him, like the flight attendant had done, and felt the skinny shoulder tense. Damn, what had he done in his life that made everyone around him tense up around him?

“Good trip?”

Taylor shrugged. Great. Was he ever going to hear his son’s voice?

“Hungry? I thought we could go eat at Rainforest Cafe.”

Taylor rolled his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Might be a cheap trip. You don’t look like you eat much.”

Was he saying the right thing? The wrong thing? Had the kid gone mute? For a moment, West was tempted to call his ex to ask what to do, but he’d asked for this. He’d figure it out on his own.