Once Upon a Cowboy (18 page)

"We have tonight," she said with heartbreaking gentleness. "And we have the rest of the summer."

He closed his eyes. "Is that a yes?"

"No." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's a hell yes."

How did she do it? How did she steal every last good intention and replace it with better ones? Kinder ones. Ones that stirred feelings he shouldn't possess, refused to possess. Cami stirred against him and he buried his hands in her wet curls. They wrapped around his fingers and clung to him so tightly he couldn't tell whether he anchored her or she chained him. Either way, she fit against him in a way no other woman ever had. From the shape of her, to the feel of her, to the way she responded to his kisses, she felt right in his arms. Perfect.

He lifted her face to his. The urge to taste her again, to inhale the scent of her desire, became an overwhelming need. He took her mouth, struggling to go slow. Gently. But he fought a losing battle. Hunger flared, raw and elemental, and his kiss grew harder, more passionate.

She responded with instant gusto. It was so...
Cami
. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened her arms about his neck and returned his kiss with explosive demand. Her lips parted and she sparred with him, showing a bit more eagerness than skill, which only endeared her to him all the more. He'd never met anyone who enjoyed life quite so much as the woman in his arms, who embraced it with such elation and delight. All that zest spilled over into their kiss, turned it into something so potent and magical, he suspected he'd never be satisfied with anyone other than her.

"You've ruined me, woman."

She pulled back, grinning up at him. "Yup. As far as I'm concerned, your reputation is in shambles."

"Not my reputation." He rested his forehead against hers. "Just like Git with ropes, you've ruined me when it comes to kisses."

She took an instant to absorb his words. Then her grin grew so brilliant it eclipsed the moon and stars, her dimples flashing to life. "That good?"

"Better."

"Whataya say we see how well I ruin you in regard to other matters?"

Curious to discover what Cami intended, Holt let her take the lead. She pulled back a few inches and slid her hands downward across his chest, taking time to explore the various ridges and valleys. She traced the inverted triangle of hair that bumped across his abs to a narrow line that inevitably led to his erection. She paused at that point, her eyes widening. There she dallied, those clever hands threatening to destroy him. Curiosity got the better of her and she wandered a bit more in open exploration, her grip a bit too enthusiastic.

His breath exploded from his lungs. "If you expect to get any use out of what you found down there, you might consider loosening your grip a tad."

Instantly, she complied, cupping and stroking instead of treating his poor privates like a pair of yo-yos she hoped to knot around his fence post. Her gentleness only served to make his situation more dire. Time to even the odds.

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sending it winging across the pool to settle neatly across a nearby rock. Her panties followed, snagging on a low-slung branch. Cami stared at the dangling scrap of cotton and her mouth twitched. Unable to help herself, she tilted back her head and laughed. He did, too, but only for a moment. He stared, helpless, at the sight of her lovely face alight with amusement, the angle of her head exposing the long, pale length of her neck. Her breasts broke the surface of the water, diamond beads of moisture glittering across them, no doubt clinging to each itty-bitty freckle.

Without another word, he gathered her close and set about turning a magical evening into something extraordinary. Something she'd always remember. Hell, something he'd always remember.

He lifted her, tenderly. Kissed her, sweetly. Gave of himself, unstintingly. He filled his hands with delicious temptation, her breasts velvet soft against the calloused ridges of his palms. He traced his thumbs across the rigid peaks and she sighed into his mouth, her legs moving restlessly against his. He drifted across the spring, so they'd be close to where he'd left the condom. And all the while, he stroked her, igniting a fire that burned across her skin and flared to life in her darkened eyes.

He parked them along a section where moss padded the rocks. Cupping the back of her thighs, he parted her legs. She opened to his touch and he found the fragrant petals that protected her. Spread them. Discovered the rich honey within. Slowly, he stroked, easing a finger deep into her passage. She shuddered against him, his name barely a whisper, but wild with need. Burning with desire. Overflowing with an emotion he should have rejected, but couldn't. Instead of rebounding off his hard, unforgiving hide, it somehow slipped inside of him and tangled him into desperate knots.

"Cami..." He whispered her name in reply, the sound every bit as wild with need. Burning with a desire that matched hers. Overflowing with an emotion he refused to name. "Be mine."

"Always and forever."

The words should have shamed him. Instead, they joined them on some level, bonding one to the other. He found the foil packet and made short work of availing himself of its contents. With exquisite care he joined his body to hers, easing inward. Apparently, he didn't ease inward at the appropriate speed. Cami bucked within his arms, driving him home in one swift thrust. Her eyes widened and she gasped, half in pain, half in pleasure.

"Easy, sweetheart." He gripped her hips and held her in place. "Let's get you in the saddle before you kick us into a gallop."

She started to laugh again, clinging to him helplessly. "At least I'm not wearing spurs."

He winced. "Thank God for small favors." He kissed her, a slow, soothing melding of lips and tongue. "Let's try a nice, slow walk, shall we?"

He eased backward, then rocked forward a delicious few inches. She was snug and warm, the perfect fit. And she took to walking just fine.

"I'm going to end up with saddle sores again. I just know I am. But, boy howdy, is it worth it." She continued to grin at him, beaming with innocent delight, her dimples flashing. "Do you suppose we could try trotting?"

"Only if I last that long."

Cami instantly matched Holt's rhythm and her laughter faded, replaced by a fierce hunger and determination. He soon discovered trotting didn't cut it. Not by a long shot. But galloping... He'd never known galloping could be as necessary to his health and wellbeing as food and water and the very air he breathed. Cami rode with him, driving him on, as perfect at this as she was imperfect at cowboying. They flew together. Soared. The mist rising from the spring captured their soft cries, trapping the sounds within the privacy of the glade.

He wanted the moment to go on forever, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold back. He felt the ripples of Cami's impending release and watched her helpless surrender. Then he felt himself going over with her. With one final, desperate thrust, he exploded within her, his bellow of release mating with her cry of delight.

For endless moments, he held her, unwilling to let go or allow sanity to return. It couldn't last, and they both knew it. Still, sorrow filled him when she eased back first.

"Holt?"

"What is it, Tex?" But he knew. Time to pay the price for his foolishness.

"Tell me what she did. Tell me how she ended any hope for a future with you."

The pain and disillusionment in her voice caught him square in the gut. He stared at her through the rising steam. Beaded water dripped from her curls to round white shoulders, the drops reminding him of tears. He tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping to stem the helpless fall, allowing his fingers to trace the sculpted lines of her face. Finally he spoke. "I met Gwen in Dallas."

A disbelieving gasp escaped. "She was a Texan? Your ex-wife?"

"That surprise you?"

"I have to admit it does."

"Why? Because you're a Texan?" He didn't wait for her to respond. He already knew the answer. "Sort of kills your theory, doesn't it? Not all Texans are born cowboys."

Cami shot him a familiar look, one of pure defiance. "Her genes must have mutated. It happens every once in a while. You probably picked one of the few women in the whole state of Texas not born to be a cowboy."

"If you say so," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, we met around springtime. We fell in love. I married her and brought her home. It all happened very fast. One of those romantic clichés."

"And then what?"

"Nothing at first. She settled into ranch life. Or at least her idea of ranch life."

"Which was?"

"Playing lady of the manor. Agnes took care of the house. I took care of the stock."

"And Gwen?"

"She took care of herself." He allowed a few more precious inches of hot water to seep in between them. "Winter arrived. Gwen left."

Cami frowned. "That's it? That's all? End of story?"

He ground his teeth at her nonchalant attitude. "One small codicil. She did manage to clean out my savings on her way through the door."

"Let me get this straight. You fell in love with the wrong woman and because of that you're not willing to give..."

She broke off, momentarily flustered, though he could guess what she'd been about to say. "Us?" he suggested. A deep flush streaked her cheekbones and he knew he'd guessed right.

"...
romance
another try," she corrected doggedly.

"Wrong. I fell in love with a city girl, which resulted in my learning a few important life lessons. One. City girls can't handle ranch life. And two. Don't bet the ranch on a losing hand."

She hit the pool with her fist, spraying him with water. Somehow he'd drifted a solid three feet away from her. "You are plumb loco, Holt Winston. If Gwen truly loved you, she'd never have left. In fact, she would have adored wintertime."

That gave him pause. "Oh, yeah? And why is that?"

"Because," she said without hesitation. "Because she would have had you all to herself. Things slow down a bit in winter, don't they? No roundups, no dawn to dusk days, no distractions. Just you and a roaring fire and... And..." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip, as if aware she'd said too much. Far too much.

He drifted closer. "And?"

"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't tease me."

"Tease you!" he exclaimed. "You drive me crazy, you know that? I won't breathe easy until you've hightailed it off my ranch and back to Richmond where you belong."

She shook her head. "I don't belong there."

"You don't belong here." He caught her in his arms. "I should never have brought you to this place. I warned you before we... Before we—"

"Say it, Holt." She looked at him with those heavenly blue eyes and desire ripped through him with the elemental force of a killer tornado. "Before we made love."

"Fine. Before we made love, I warned you it wouldn't change anything. And it hasn't."

"Why?"

"I already told you. You don't belong here."

"No. I mean, why did you bring me here? Why make love to me if nothing is going to change?"

"Because I had no choice." He dipped his head and kissed her with an urgency he couldn't conceal. He wanted her. And he made sure she knew it. "This was as inevitable as your leaving at the end of summer."

She eased back and gazed up at him with a sweetly earnest expression. "I'm not like Gwen," she attempted to reassure him. "One of these days you'll realize that."

He froze. He needed the reminder. No matter what she hoped, he had nothing to give her. Forcibly, he set her from him. "I won't be realizing it today. Nor tomorrow, for that matter."

"Holt, please."

"Get out of here, while I can still let you. Otherwise you really will get saddle sores. And even though staying may offer us both some temporary relief, it won't change a thing."

He saw her illusions shatter, saw the loss of hope and trust and innocence. And he, bastard that he was, did nothing to stop it.

She didn't wait for another invitation. She shot out of the water and snatched her clothes from the rock and her bra from the tree. Struggling into her damp jeans and shirt, she raced over to Petunia. She mounted and turned to look at Holt.

For a long moment, their gazes met. With a shrill "Hiyah," she wheeled her horse and tore from the glade as if the devil himself were at her heels. Holt could only stare after her.

God help him, but that woman could gallop.

Chapter 8