Part Time Cowboy (Copper Ridge Book 1) (19 page)

“Oh...cat,” she said aloud.

Toby might not allow for sexual spontaneity.

He was currently sprawled over the blue armchair in the living room, looking like the tragic victim of a train collision, his paws out straight, head cocked back and to the side, his back legs up and spread.

“You’re a sophisticated beast, Toby.”

He didn’t move. But of course, it was because it didn’t suit him to move. If Eli started making out with her on the couch Toby would probably wake up and decide the only place in the world he wanted to be was on Eli’s lap.

And she wasn’t going to go locking him in the bathroom or anything just so she could have a good time in the room of her choice. The thing with Eli was physical. Toby, though he couldn’t speak actual words, was her friend. Who had stuck with her through it all, mainly because his other choice was a life on the streets as a mouser and he wouldn’t engage in anything so gauche.

Either way, she wasn’t prioritizing her hookup over her cat’s comfort.

Besides, she was having soft, luxurious bed fantasies. And that was better anyway.

The heavy knock on her front door had her scrambling toward the entryway, her heart bouncing around in her chest like a rubber ball that had been thrown at a wall as hard as possible.

She stopped for a second and looked down at the scoop-neck dress she was wearing. Then she leaned forward, reached down the front of the dress and cupped her breast, tugging it up in her bra before doing the same to the other one.

She took a breath and examined her improved cleavage. “Okay. We’re good. We can do this.”

She shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulders, then walked to the door, grabbing the handle and opening it.

“Hi,” she said, going for casual.

“Can we not do the talking thing?” he asked. “You just get mad at me when we talk.” He shifted, the bag he was holding rustling with the motion.

“I’m okay with that.”

He walked into the house without waiting for her to invite him in, his presence dominating the entryway, filling it. He was a solid wall of man, and now that she’d been naked with him, she knew just how solid.

Knew how his skin felt beneath her hands, how his lips felt on hers, how his stubble felt against soft skin.

And she didn’t want to talk, either.

“I want you naked,” he said. “Now.”

“Should we go into the bedroom...?”

“No,” he said, slamming the door shut, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the peg.

That made her smile, because even in his dark intensity he couldn’t bring himself to make a mess. Even now, he was still conscious of order.

But that was okay, because it was part of what made him him.

And no matter what she said about not liking him, she had to like him at least a little bit, or any male body would do. There was something special about this male body that went past muscles and body hair and...well...generous physical attributes down below the belt.

And that was the soul that was in the body.

The thought made her chest feel tight. Made it hard to breathe. But then, that could just be because he was looking at her like a starving man might eye a piece of very chocolaty cake.

She took a breath, banished the nerves and made eye contact with him as she reached around behind her back and tugged the zipper on her dress down.

She folded her shoulders in slightly and let it fall to the floor, left herself standing there in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties.

She’d never been insecure about her body. She had one small scar from her laparoscopic surgery, but nothing too noticeable. Which was good, because she rarely had to explain it, and she barely thought about it, since it was so close to invisible.

Also, she’d never seen the point in being inhibited. If a man had shown interest when she had clothes on, he wouldn’t get less interested once her clothes were off. And if he did, that was about him, not her.

But right now, she cared. She really, really wanted to see interest flare in Eli’s eyes. Wanted him to be crazy with desire because she felt that way about him.

Because he wasn’t another naked man, as good as any other. He was the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Because just looking at him got her hotter than twenty minutes of foreplay with any of her exes. So it felt much more important that he find her more than passable.

She watched him closely, watched the color across his cheekbones heighten, watched his chest pitch with hard breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was safe to say she had a captive audience.

She arched her back and reached behind her, putting her hands on her bra clasp and carefully separating the hooks and eyes before letting the garment drop to the floor, her black lace flag of surrender.

He kept his gaze on hers. He didn’t look down at her breasts, not right away, and for some reason, that was unspeakably hot. Watching the tension increase in his frame, watching his dark eyes burning with heat, determinedly fixed on her face.

She smiled. “Are you trying to earn an award for not being too obvious?” she asked, sliding one hand up her stomach, just beneath the curve of one breast, before drawing her fingertips over her nipple, a small gasp escaping her lips.

That broke his concentration.

His eyes dropped then and she ran her hand over her other breast, pausing to tease the tightened bud. His jaw was clenched tight, his arousal pushing aggressively against the zipper of his pants.

Oh, yes, she had nothing to worry about.

“You aren’t done,” he bit out.

“Am I not?” she asked, stilling her hands and glancing at him, trying to look innocent. Knowing she was failing, because she wasn’t innocent at all. She was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And she knew how to get it.

Knew she was going to get it.

“The rest,” he said, the words a hard command that sent a shiver through her.

She pressed her palms against her body and slid her hands down to the waistband of her panties. Then she pushed her fingers below the lace, in the front, cupping herself as she pushed them down, watching as his breathing increased, the pulse beating so hard in his neck she could see it.

She shoved them down her legs and kicked them to the side, leaving one hand where it was, sliding her fingertip over her clit. She gasped, white-hot pleasure firing through her. She was a whole lot more sensitive than she expected to be. But a day of anticipation, combined with how it felt to have his attention, was a hell of a lot more intoxicating than she’d anticipated.

“I’m wet,” she said. “If you were curious.”

“Bedroom,” he said. “Now.”

She turned away from him and walked slowly through the house, through the living room, casting a quick glance at Toby, who was still asleep, because obviously he couldn’t be bothered to care about humans and their shenanigans.

She could hear Eli’s heavy footsteps behind her. And she fought the urge to look back. But not looking was so much better than looking. Feeling his hot gaze on her without seeing him. Knowing he was watching her butt as she walked. That he was as tense with need as she was.

She led him to her bedroom. “Watch your step,” she said, taking the small stair that dropped down at the entrance to the room.

She heard his boot hit the carpet behind her and she turned, her heart kicking hard against her breastbone as she looked at him.

“Can you close the door?” she asked.

“Why?”

“Trying to avoid Cattus Interruptus,” she said.

“Right.” He turned and shut the door behind them, setting the bag, which she assumed contained contraception, on the dresser. “This is another point in favor of keeping animals outside,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. Your anti-cat platform has no momentum here, might as well drop it. And while you’re at it, drop your pants, Sheriff.”

“Deputy sheriff.”

“Why is that hot?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back, propping herself up with her elbows. “Why is you being obnoxiously pedantic sexy? I don’t even get it.”

“Hell if I know.”

“I mean, I know why the rest of you is sexy. Dayum.”

He smiled as his hands went to his shirt collar. “Sorry about this,” he said, tugging his tie from his shirt collar in one easy snap, the whole thing intact.

“Clip-on?” she asked.

“Standard issue. You can’t take it off without looking like an idiot.”

“All right, I’ll let the tie go. But only because I’m already naked over here. And very, very horny.”

“Points for me,” he said, setting the tie on the edge of her vanity. Then he moved his hands to the first button on his shirt and released it, undoing it quickly, revealing a plain T-shirt the same color as his uniform underneath. “This is less of a strip show than bachelorette parties might have led you to believe,” he said. “Didn’t have time to go home and change.”

“Are you embarrassed?” she asked.

He stilled with his hands on his belt. “No. But you went to a lot of... You had on matching underwear.”

She nodded. “I did, it’s true. But I am way less interested in your clothes than I am in the removal of them. So carry on.”

He undid his belt and shrugged the tan T-shirt over his head. Beneath that was a thin black vest. Kevlar, she assumed. And something hit her in the stomach, a sharp pang. A realization of who he was and what it was he did on a whole new level. He wasn’t just a man who cared about his town. He was a man who put his life on the line. He was a man who backed up his word.

And tonight? He was all hers.

He took the vest off, laying it neatly with everything else.

“Oh, yesss,” she said, the breath hissing through her teeth. “That’s what I’m here to see.”

He looked at her, one dark brow arched.

“What?” she asked. “Women don’t usually sing the praises of your body?”

“In my experience, it’s expected for me to sing the praises of theirs.” He turned to face her, working at the clasp on his pants, the muscles in his chest shifting, his abs rippling with the motion.

“Well, by all means, sing my praises. But it has to be said that you are one hell of a man.”

He shoved his pants down and proved her point and then some, his erection thick and enticing and, right now, just for her. He folded his pants carefully on top of the rest of his clothes.

“Come here,” she said.

“You think you’re giving the orders?” he asked.

“If you want to play,” she said, raising a brow, “you might want to follow them.”

“What sort of game do you want to play?” he asked, his voice rough.

“One we’re both going to like. I want to taste you.” His eyes darkened, his expression getting tense.

“Come on, Deputy Sheriff,” she said.

He walked over to the bed and wrapped his hand around her head, gripping her hair tight and leaning down, kissing her hard on the mouth before straightening, putting all of
himself
right at eye level.

She licked her lips and looked up at him, bracing her hands on his lean hips. She wanted this. Had wanted it since well before the first time they’d been together. They’d only had urgency then. No thought, no finesse and very little time for exploration.

Now she wanted to explore.

She leaned in, gripping his shaft in her palm and squeezing tight. He groaned, his head falling back, his hand returning to her hair, tugging slightly, the stinging sensation sending a shot of pleasure down between her thighs. Making her hotter. Wetter.

Then she leaned in, blazing a trail over his hard length with the tip of her tongue, her heart hammering fast as she explored him from tip to base and back again before taking him deep inside her mouth.

He was beautiful. He was incredible. And he made this a pleasure. A gift that was truly more blessed to give. Though based on the shivering of his thigh muscles he was very happy to receive.

She pleasured him with her hands, her lips, her tongue, reveling in this strong, solid man’s loss of control as he cursed and shook beneath her touch.

She’d never felt more powerful.

She’d never felt more wanted.

Such a dangerous game, but she wanted to play as long as she possibly could. To hold her hand near the flame until it burned her.

She shifted and took him in deeper and he tugged her hair hard, pulling her head up. “Not like that,” he said, his words a growl.

She looked at him, at the fierce, untamed light in his eyes. Eli Garrett was never anything less than civil. He’d once put her in handcuffs while she’d clawed and spit like a mad cat, and he’d never been less than a gentleman.

That was probably where some of the strange conflicting anger-desire had come from back then. Even when she was angry at him, she’d sensed somehow that he was the closest thing to a real-life superhero. Truth, justice, the American way and all that.

Yes, civility was second nature to him, and now it was stripped away. And he was reduced to nothing more than a man who desired a woman. Desired her. Restraint folded up on the floor with his uniform.