The Discreet Cowboy (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 6) (9 page)

Yes, deep down inside of my gut, but it has nothing to do with my black eye
. “No.”

“Good.” Her hair was drying and spiraling into wild waves around her cheeks. Even without any makeup on, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes competed with the bluest of skies. Her upturned nose, porcelain skin and full, pouty lips were perfectly shaped. Even the thin white scar across her chin was perfect. “Would you mind sharing?”

He gulped air. “Sharing?”

She tapped a fingernail against the top button of his shirt. “Will you let me wear your shirt or should I just go with the suit God granted me?”

Why couldn’t he control the pain in his balls? “I don’t mind sharing.” He could barely concentrate on the task of removing each button as he pushed it through the coinciding hole. He was like a young kid again, learning to dress, and undress, himself.
Button slides through the hole.
By the time he pulled it off his arms, he was starting to sweat. A smile turned her lips as she slipped her warm gaze over his torso. He handed over the shirt and she took it, but she didn’t make a move to change.

“Is this scar from the fall from the horse?” She touched the wide, ragged pink-tinged scar that led from his shoulder to his left nipple. Her knuckle brushed the flat tip and he sucked in a breath. Her smile deepened.

“Yes.”

“It’s terrible looking.”

He blinked and started to step back, self-conscious of his new body—his deformities caused from falling onto the jagged rock at a high rate of speed.

“No, please. Let me look,” she said in a soft voice that made the hairs on his neck stand.

****

He stayed frozen to the floor as she continued to explore his body. She laid the shirt aside and touched the center of his chest, sliding her fingers through the patch of dark, crisp hair. She moved her fingers over his flat stomach, sliding them along the coiled muscle. Her intention was to examine the scars, but she enjoyed every masculine inch of him, every dip, every rugged curve. She barely registered that he had another deep, healing wound on his side, but paused with her hand there. “Did you break a rib?”

He nodded. “Three.”

Following his sinewy skin, still warm and moist from the shower, she stopped at the waist of his jeans, slowly and deliberately dipping her finger in and out, then gliding it to his navel. “You’re lucky to be alive.” She heard the tremor in her own voice.

“I’ve been told that a few times.”

“You’ve overcome so much. You’re a strong, resilient man.” She looked up at him, their gazes meeting and attaching. She could stare into his deep pools of hazel and probably find herself.  “I bet women love these scars of battle.” She smiled.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since the accident?” Her heart kicked up in speed.

He gave his head a quick shake. “No.”

“I know things are in working order. I felt proof back on the dance floor at the honky tonk.” Her nipples beaded and her inner thighs throbbed.

“Things are definitely in working order,” he said in a throaty voice that vibrated to her core.

“Even now, I see.” The bulge below his waist was unmistakable. She brazenly brushed her palm across his zipper. He sucked in a deep breath.

One small step brought her in front of him so close that she could feel the warmth from his body seeping through the thin sheet that was getting looser around her chest. “I think you—all of you, scars and all—are sexy, Dade. Please don’t ever allow them to keep you from getting close with a woman again. I feel the pull in you.”

He swallowed. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re not offended like the last one.”

“Really? What happened?”

“A nurse was tending to my wounds and, out of nowhere, I saluted her. I wasn’t attracted to her, not in a sexual way. I just didn’t have much control over my parts.”

“Well, I’m not a nurse, but I’d never be offended.” She slipped her fingers into the waist of his jeans and with a flick of her wrist, she undid the button and zipper.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, bringing a soft tress to his nose and inhaling. “This isn’t the complimentary shampoo. No, this is
your
natural scent. It’s exotic.”

Her throat constricted. He never ceased to amaze her with his words. She lifted on tiptoes, closer to his six foot something height, and kissed him. He groaned deep in his chest, then dragged her closer, pressing her against his body. She was overcome with the need to taste all of him. Lust swept through her like a red-hot poker, prodding her in all of her secret spots. She knew this would only complicate things, but she wanted him—wanted things to go to the next level.

She allowed her eyes to drift shut and she focused on the feel of his lips on hers. His taste, the moan that crept up his throat—or was that her? He slipped his tongue past her parted lips and explored her, sweeping the tip over the roof of her mouth, sending tingles darting through her. She had an itch deep in her body that she couldn’t scratch alone.

I need him. I need this.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his thick, damp hair, rubbing his scalp. Their bodies were pressed together, and she felt every hardened inch, and her inner thighs quivered. She ached to have his hands on her naked body, have him exploring parts of her that craved a cowboy—craved a man like Dade. Nothing mattered but reaching satisfaction, spending the night discovering one another and basking in the beauty of lovemaking.

He stepped back and it took her a good second before she realized he was no longer holding her. “Dade?”

“Felicia, I want you, more than I could ever put into words, but this isn’t right. Not like this.” His voice belied his words.

“You have something against motel rooms?”

“I have something against the guilt I’d feel if you and I allowed things to get out of hand.”

She sighed. “This is not the time to get a guilty conscious. You don’t have to worry about Chase. I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

He shook his head, sending a hand through his hair. Waves popped up. “There’s more to it than you understand.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, hoping she could ease the butterflies fluttering her insides. “Then maybe you should explain things.”

His olive complexion paled and his lips thinned. “I haven’t been with a woman…”

“Since the accident. I understand…”

“No, ever. The closest I had ever been was with my high school girlfriend and we did everything
but
that.”

She laughed. “Funny, Dade. If you don’t want to be with me, just say so. No need to get crazy on me.” But there was not an ounce of humor to his expression. “You’re not joking?”

“I wouldn’t, especially about something like this.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“SO, EXPLAIN HOW it’s possible. You’re twenty-five and you’ve never had the opportunity?” Felicia asked later, after she’d changed into his shirt and they were sitting on the bed together, nursing bad-tasting coffee from foam cups. She looked at him through the steam. Would he answer her?

“Is it that bad?” he asked. He grinned, but his eyes held a certain tenderness, a certain vulnerability, that touched her in a way she’d never been touched before.

“It’s not a bad thing—not at all.” She corrected herself. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, but even you must realize that your, well, situation isn’t found much these days.”

His mouth twitched. “So I’ve heard. Now you should know why I would die of embarrassment if the hands found out.”

“They won’t,” she assured him. “They’d be jealous.” She laughed.

“I hardly think so.” He winked.

“So, do you wish to explain how a man as sexy and sweet as you has gone this long without being, uhh, plucked?” She was truly curious.

He shrugged. “Just to be clear, I’m not a monk. I have done a few things. I dated one girl all through high school and she wanted to wait until we were married. I respected her choice and we did just enough that I didn’t burst out of my skin. In fact, I got pretty good at pleasing her.” He fluffed the white cased pillow and leaned against it on the headboard.

“And you two didn’t marry?”

“She got pregnant by my buddy and they’re married now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “I’m not. Hell, I know we weren’t right for each other. I wanted to travel, do something adventurous, so I left home. Eventually I wound up at Nirvana.”

She rolled the tip of her finger around the rim of the cup. “That surprises me even more. You’re working in paradise with beautiful women coming and going. Weren’t you ever tempted? I’m sure you could have found countless of ladies who would be more than happy to,” she licked her lips, “lead you to the apple tree.”

He grimaced. “Yikes. That’s no way to explain it. I wasn’t a hand at first. I was hired on to run all of the errands, anything Chase needed. So I wasn’t around very many women often. Then the accident happened.”

“Are you interested?” She lifted a brow.

He rubbed his jaw, his eyes competing against the stars in brightness. “Yes. Lord yes. But I haven’t been as tempted ever as much as I am tonight. Not even with my girlfriend.”

Her chest filled with pride. “I had no clue.”

He seemed embarrassed and looked away.

“Don’t be ashamed of it, Dade.” She laid her hand on his and he looked back at her.

“I’m hungry. Are you?” he said.

She wondered if this was his way of changing the subject, but her stomach growled as if to remind her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she’d put away a good amount of liquor. “Yes, I am.”

“I saw a vending machine down the hall. I’ll go rummage us up some grub. It’ll probably taste like crud, but I think we could both use nourishment.” He climbed from the bed and she watched him, the nice lean muscles in his back to the nice fit of his worn jeans. Although he was only in his twenties, there was a maturity about him that she didn’t find in many other men her age.

“Shall I give you the shirt back?” She lifted onto her knees, steadied herself on the mattress, and started for the top button.

“Keep the shirt.” He smiled. “I think I’ll be okay making it to the hall and back without being attacked.”

He was gone only a few minutes, but it seemed longer. He came back with his arms laden with junk food—chips, nuts, pretzels, and two sticks of turkey jerky. He dropped his cache onto the bed, grinning. “Gourmet vending.”

She cleared her throat and patted the bed beside her. “Join me. Will you?”

He took the seat on the bed and his heavier weight made her slide closer to him until their thighs touched. Neither shifted or made a move to break the contact. He took one of the packages of jerky, opened it and handed it over. “At least you’ll get some protein. It’ll keep you from getting a hangover in the morning.”

She bit into the meat and chewed. It wasn’t half bad, but, of course, it wasn’t filet mignon either. “I never get a hangover.”

“Never say ‘never’.” He bit into his own jerky. 

She watched his profile, mesmerized with his good looks. Keeping her hands off would be so much easier if she wasn’t head over heels in lust with him—and knowing he’d never had sex made her even more curious. Truthfully, she’d never been with a man who was a virgin, although a few times when she was younger, she’d been with inexperienced and gawky boys which had been so bad that it sent her into two years of celibacy.

Reaching for a bag of chips, she opened it, grabbed one out and chomped on it, conscious of how loud the crunching was in the small space. She set the bag aside.

“The fall from the horse. How did it happen?” she asked.

“What?”

“You’ve lived a good bit of your life on a ranch so I’m assuming you’re decent in the saddle. What happened? Did the horse get spooked?”

“It was dark and I was riding too fast.” He hesitated. “She had to be put down. That’s the hardest part. All because of my stupidity. I shouldn’t have had her out at night.”

She touched his shoulder. “You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’ll never forgive myself. I was acting immature. I had a crush on one of the Nirvana employees. Hell, I knew she had no interest in me, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. I found out that she and one of the hands were involved and I overreacted. Plain and simple. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just meant to let some steam off.”

“I think we all feel that way at times. What was your childhood like?” She didn’t want to keep him talking about the painful past too long.

He smiled. “Great. Loving mom and dad, married twenty-six years. My dad still leaves her a sweet note on his pillow every morning before he leaves for work. Imagine the dedication a man must have to a woman to make it a priority to make her feel special every single day for that many years. That’s my pops. My mom says that her heart still pitter-patters when he walks into the room. Man, I hope to find that one day myself.”

Her heart jolted. “Are you a romantic?”