Tall, Dark and Cowboy (9 page)

Lacey loved to kiss. She was good at it too, having spent her entire high school career at first base. She hadn’t given herself to any of the groping, gasping boys who’d tried to steal second in the backseats of their cars, and she’d become expert at parrying their stealth moves—the slow hand creeping under her shirt, the subtle tug that signaled an attack on her bra strap.

But Chase wasn’t trying to steal anything. Unlike those high school boys, he didn’t seem to be thinking about the usual male goals and aspirations like seeing her naked or working toward his own satisfaction. More than any man she’d ever kissed, he was in the moment, making the most of every touch, every stunned intake of breath, every whisper of sensation. She laced her fingers around his neck and gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of it.

She pressed her breasts into his chest, trying to smother the sharp ache of longing for more, harder,
now
, but he was so tall, she couldn’t plaster her body to his quite the way she wanted. She let out a mew of frustration. Twisting against him, she hiked herself up on her toes, then felt his arms wrap around her as he hoisted her up on the truck’s open tailgate. She wrapped one leg around his waist and deepened the kiss with an aggression that surprised her.

She’d always played submissive with Trent, letting him take what he wanted. There hadn’t been anything he could give her she’d wanted enough to work for, but now, for the first time, she wanted a man for herself. Chase seemed to sense her need as he cupped the back of her head and lowered her onto the hot black plastic of the truck’s bed liner in one swift move.

Now their bodies were aligned and his weight pressed down on her, finally giving her some relief from the ache of need that was pulsing in her breasts and between her legs. She brought one foot up to stroke his calf and wondered when she’d lost her shoes, but she’d never cared less about fashion than she did now. In fact, all she wanted from her designer duds at this moment was easy removal.

***

Chase had known exactly how Lacey’s body would feel. He’d fantasized about it for years—how soft her skin would feel to his work-hardened hands, how quickly her nipples would rise under his touch—but he hadn’t realized how strongly his own body would react. He’d been uncomfortably erect ever since Cody had left them alone, and now he ached so fiercely it was hard to take things slow. He needed her so badly, it hurt.

He took a deep breath, feeling every muscle in his body, every nerve, every fiber, reaching toward her and aching for the culmination of all those years of fantasy and desire. He felt like his accelerator was pressed to the floor, his engine roaring, but his wheels were spinning and he was just heating up and going nowhere.

He had to have her—had to. And if he couldn’t have her honestly, he’d gladly pay for the privilege. She needed money? Sure. How much? A job? Hired. A place to stay? How about his bed? Tonight and every night. He’d give her anything.

“What do you want, Lacey?” He could barely speak for the ache in his throat. “Just tell me what you want. I’ll help you. Just tell me.”

He brushed her nipple with his thumb while he kissed her, tormenting her gently but with a firm touch that told her he wanted to take charge. She sucked in a quick breath and squirmed against him, and for a minute, he thought he’d gone too far, that she was going to cover herself, that he’d lost his chance—but then she tugged the wet shirt up over her breast and pressed herself into his hand.

She moaned, and his brain shut down completely except for a flash of memory that reminded him how much he’d wanted this, how many years he’d fantasized about touching Lacey.

He looked down at her and gentled his touch, moving his finger in a slow circle around the smooth, dark aureole before he palmed her breast and squeezed. Her bra was made of some kind of thin, stretchy fabric that was almost transparent. Drawing away from the kiss, he slid it aside and took her nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue over the tip, before sucking it into his mouth and moving his hand down to her waist. Her hand flew to her waistband before he could get there, and again he thought she was going to stop him, but she was pulling at the hem of her shirt, then yanking it over her head. He watched it fly upward from her hand in slow-motion, catching on a tree branch and hanging there like a flag of surrender.

He looked back down at Lacey. She’d lifted her hands back over her head when she’d thrown the shirt, and now she’d crossed her wrists as though she wore invisible shackles. There couldn’t be a clearer signal that she was his.

She closed her eyes and he kissed her again, resisting the urge to move too fast, to unsnap those pants and slip his hand down to the heart of her. He had to make her want him with an ache as strong as his own. His fantasy wasn’t about taking Lacey, or having Lacey; it was about the two of them being together, wanting each other. He gentled his touch to a whisper, stroking her gently as the breeze that fanned her hair over the rock cooled his face. She moved her hips, asking for more, but he kept the pressure light while he bent his head and kissed the tender skin on the underside of her smooth upper arms.

He worked his way down all the softest parts of her, the side of her breast, the thin skin over her ribs, the slight depression where her hip bone dipped and disappeared under her belt. She tensed, lifting her hips, pressing herself against his hand, and he worked his way back up again, up over the landscape of her body, across the gentle swells of creamy flesh and the pink tips of her breasts to kiss her neck and rest his cheek against hers.

***

Chase’s breath brushed Lacey’s ear, and she shivered in spite of the heat. It felt so good to be wanted. To be with a man who didn’t take you for granted.

She’d never, ever felt like this with Trent. When she’d married him, she’d discovered that her determination to save herself for marriage had left her unskilled and unsure of herself. But Trent didn’t seem to care. He’d scaled her like Everest, like something that needed conquering, and she’d let him, even when she hadn’t wanted to.

With Chase, she wanted to.

She had ever since she’d laid eyes on him behind the counter at the dealership. She’d wanted those strong square hands on her breasts and those lips on her mouth. As if reading her mind, he palmed her breast and ran his thumb over the peak. She hadn’t thought the ache inside her could get any stronger, but her nipple hardened until it hurt. God, she wanted him. Even when he’d insulted her that first day, she’d wanted to…

She froze. What was it he’d said?

Go
sell
yourself
to
someone
else.

And that’s probably what he thought she was doing now.

What
do
you
want?
he’d asked
Tell
me
what
you
want
.

She was doing it again. She was selling herself. She’d sleep with Chase, he’d help her out, and then he’d own her, body and soul, just like Trent had.

He’d sweet-talk her into a relationship, get her to walk away from her former life, and then slowly his love would turn to disapproval, his advice and assistance to rigid control. He’d mock everything she wanted to do, put down all her accomplishments, and criticize her until she felt utterly helpless. She’d be absorbed into his world, and her own would become smaller and smaller until it didn’t exist at all. Until she became nothing but his.

She felt herself shrinking, growing smaller and smaller, as if she was turning into a plastic Barbie doll whose only purpose was to pose for Ken. The world around her—the trees, the sunshine, the breeze tickling her skin—seemed to recede like an outgoing tide, and all she could see was Chase, so big, so strong, so possessive.

She jerked out from under him and scrambled to a sitting position, tugging the strap of her bra back onto her shoulder and reaching up to snatch her tank top out of the tree. Sliding down from the tailgate, she stubbed a toe on a rock and stumbled away from the truck, struggling to put her shirt back on.

She’d been an idiot. She’d been telling herself this meant something—to Chase as well as her. But as soon as he’d offered to help her, he’d moved from kisses to more intimate touches. As if he’d earned the right. As if she really was for sale.

Clutching a branch for balance, she took another step backward, then stumbled as something slithered through the mud and slid into the water.

Snake.

She shrieked, jerking away and tripping over a rock before she landed on her butt in what she now assumed was a snake-infested stream.

“Lacey, for God’s sake.” Strong hands lifted her from behind, and she kicked out and slapped him away, spinning around and stepping backward onto the bank. She couldn’t let him touch her. Couldn’t let him own her.

She was never going to let that happen again. She’d flip burgers. She’d clean motel rooms. She’d pump gas. She’d do anything but take money from a man and become his plaything.

She backed away. Chase stood calf-deep in the stream, his shoulders hunched, and knees bent as if he was about to clap a wrestling hold on her. His shirt was soaked through, and stuck to his skin, the damp glossing his muscles and confirming that yes, he did look strikingly like the man on the cover of the
Men’s Fitness
magazine in his waiting room.

Only that man had been smiling.

***

Chase stared at the drenched, muddy female in front of him and wondered how she could possibly be the same person as the sweet, fragrant, willing woman who’d been lying beneath him moments before.

He should have known better. Lacey wanted something, and she’d worked him up into a frenzy so he’d do anything she asked. He could have sworn she was enjoying herself damn near as much as he was—but she’d been playing him, well aware that giving him everything she had wasn’t the way to get what she wanted.

She was picking her way over the gravel scattered between the boulders, mincing along like a cat in wet grass.

“What happened to your shoes?” he asked.

She nodded toward the truck’s front tire, where one gold sandal glittered just beneath the surface of the water between two rocks. Plucking it from the stream with one finger, he tossed it her way.

Cheering on other players had apparently been the limit of her athletic prowess. She didn’t just catch like a girl; she didn’t catch at all. Flailing at the sandal, she knocked it back into the water and nearly fell as she bent to pick it up. She wavered precariously on one foot while she shoved her toes in it and struggled with the delicate straps.

Straightening, she tossed her head. Her hair had somehow escaped the mud that had splattered them both, but the rest of her was wet, muddy, flushed, or all three.

While she fished another shoe out of the water and fumbled it onto her foot, she teetered and almost lost her balance. He stepped forward and caught her, but she pushed him away.

“Leave me alone, Chase. I’m not for sale.”

“What?”

“You told me to go sell myself to someone else, but then you decided you were buying after all, didn’t you?”

***

Chase looked as if she’d slapped him.

“Lacey, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t…”

“I’m not. It made me realize I
had
sold myself to Trent. I always sell myself, because I don’t have anything else to offer.”

“You have a lot more to offer.”

“I have nothing, Chase. No skills, no talents. Not even a car that runs. Hell, I can’t even live in the damn thing because it’s parked right in front of your office.”

He widened his eyes at the curse words, but she wasn’t about to take them back. She meant every damn word.

“So let me help you.”

“No.” She tilted her chin up in her best Scarlett O’Hara
I’ll never be hungry again
impression. “I’ll get a job.”

His eyes scanned her body, fixing on her lips, her breasts, and then her hand.

“What about that ring? Couldn’t you sell it?”

Lacey looked down at the ring gracing her finger. She’d forgotten about the cubic zirconium she’d bought in a Walmart off the highway after a trucker had tried to pick her up at a gas station. Men had pretty much left her alone once she’d marked herself married.

Plucking it off her finger, she tossed it downstream and felt suddenly buoyant. The fake diamond hadn’t weighed a thing, but tossing it away had felt symbolic, somehow, especially since she’d decided in that moment that she didn’t need Chase’s help.

“Walmart. $2.99. Maybe there’s a muskrat out there that wants it.” She waved her now-naked hand in the air. “I bought it to keep truckers from trying to pick me up.”

She held her hand out, splaying her fingers and tilting it left and right like a newlywed admiring her diamond—but what she was admiring was the pale ring of flesh on her finger where her wedding ring had been. She felt like she’d thrown off her shackles, and no way was she putting on a ring, ever again. If another trucker tried to pick her up, she’d kick him in the shins and spit.

“I need to get back to the motel,” she told Chase. “I told you, I don’t want to buy your damn truck.”

***

They drove into town in silence. When he pulled up to the motel, he dared to look at her for the first time.

“I didn’t mean what I said the other day, Lacey.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was true, in a way. I’ve always had some man paying my way. I’m not letting that happen anymore.” She grabbed her purse and slid down from the truck. “I’m sorry about my language. Sorry about—well, everything.”

He watched her slide down to the ground and walk up the concrete steps to the second floor of the motel, where she let herself into one of the dozen identical turquoise doors. Number seventeen. When the door closed behind her, he got out of the truck and headed for the motel office. Lacey might not want to rely on a man, but somebody had to help her.

“I want to pay for a room in advance,” he told Floyd Ledger. Floyd had been the owner of the Ranch Motel for as long as Chase could remember. The guy spent all day every day in the tiny, cluttered rooms that could be seen from the counter. There was always a laugh track blaring from an unseen television, and Floyd’s flesh was as pale and hairless as the underbelly of a frog from living in the dim recesses of the motel.