Cowboy Alpha Billionaire Bad Boy: F#cking Jerk 1 (5 page)

“Ready to go,” I announced.

Next to the door, Clay pulled it open and waved me out first.

I felt his leering gaze on my ass as I stormed down the steps.

What the hell was I doing, going anywhere with this jerk? Favor or no, he was my employee.

This was wrong. And stupid. And totally unnecessary.

And it would
not
happen again.

Ever.

Because I was done lusting for the bad boys.
Done.

When Clay had told me we were having dinner tonight, I hadn’t known what to expect.

This was definitely a suprise.

I mean, true, the restaurant options were extremely limited out here in Nowheresville. It was a long drive to find anything remotely decent—as in, served food on genuine plates instead of paper wrappers. But I had still expected, and dressed for, a dinner out. At a
restaurant
. With tables. And people. And service.

Not out, as in, out in the middle of a freaking
pasture
.

A large bonfire heated my face as I sat, in my skirt, staring into the dancing flames, poking at the embers with a stick. Two steaks the size of my freaking head were sizzling on top of a homemade grill setup, built with a wire mesh resting on top of stacked stones. The smell of burning meat wafted my way with every breeze. Even to my vegetarian nose, I had to admit the smell was making my mouth water.

I hadn’t eated a single bite of animal flesh since the last time I’d visited Aunt Sandee, the summer before my freshman year of college. I’d decided to go vegetarian after watching a video about how industry farmed animals are handled and slaughtered. Horrifying. All my life I’d seen how my aunt had cared for her animals on her small ranch. I hadn’t realized it was different from the way the larger farms operated. The shock had been enough to make me stop eating any meat that was sold in chain grocery stores. And since that was all I could find where I lived…you get the picture.

So there I was, about to eat my first bite of beef in four years.

Proclaiming the slabs of cow flesh done, Clay forked them onto plates he’d stowed in his picnic box and handed me a plate, knife, and fork. Then he produced a bottle of wine and poured us both a glass.

I stared down at the grilled meat, juices running from it, filling the plate. My stomach rejoiced. My mind wasn’t as enthusiastic. I hacked a tiny piece off and reluctantly slipped it between my lips.

I chewed. Delicious flavor filled my mouth. Rich and juicy and savory.

“Good?” Clay asked.

I nodded. “Surprisingly.”

“I’m not surprised. I’ve been told a time or two I grill a mean steak.”

Cocky and arrogant as usual.

But that didn’t stop me from gobbling down that steak. I ate almost half, which was way more than I expected. And when I was done, I sat back and groaned. If I tried to stand up and walk I probably would fall over, I was so full. But it felt good to be full, to not have that raw, burning hunger gnawing at my insides for once. I hadn’t realized until now how hungry I’d been. Not just today, but for the past few months—make that years.

The price I paid to keep the weight off.

When I started my freshman year in high school, I’d been five feet tall and two hundred pounds. I was the invisible girl. Nobody spoke to me. Nobody noticed me. Not even my teachers. I crept down the halls alone, in silent, solitary torment. At night I gorged on anything I could get my hands on. Food was both my savior and my demon. I loved food. And I hated it for what it did to me once I swallowed it.

And I probably would have continued that love-hate relationship for the rest of my life if it hadn’t been for my mother dragging me to a clinic for obsese teens. They used a combination of drugs and public shaming to make me lose weight.

It worked. And by that summer I’d lost fifty pounds. I looked like a different girl.

And I’d met Clay.

He saw me. I wasn’t invisible to him.

He flattered me.

He made me feel special.

He touched me.

He kissed me.

Eventually, the summer after my senior year, he took my virginity.

And then he broke my heart.

I spent the following four years in college, starving myself, denying myself any food I deemed dangerous, terrified that if I ate just one mouthful, only one, I would go right back to binging. And the weight would pile back on.

And I spent those four years trying to forget Clay Walker.

The weight hadn’t crept back on. But when it came to forgetting Clay...I’d failed. Miserably.

Memories of those long summer days, our bodies gliding against each other as we swam, and griding against each other as we kissed, were impossible to erase, even after four years. In fact, they were still as vivid as ever. I was beginning to think they’d never go away. Not in a lifetime.

He stood and extended an arm. “Come here.”

I placed my hand in his and he pulled me to my feet. We stood inches from each other. His broad chest was within reach. I tipped my head back and our gazes tangled. Electricity arced between us, the air crackling.

It was as if time had rewound. We were in high school. And that strange and magical force was tugging at us, pulling us closer.

“Come here. I want to show you something.” He climbed into the bed of his truck then helped me up. He’d put down a couple of sleeping bags, to cushion the metal a little. He’d even thought to bring along a couple of pillows. He put them at the end, side-by-side. “Lay down.” He lay first, on his back. I settled next to him and looked up.

The sky was dazzling. Deep indigo blue at one end, violet and salmon at the other.

“I love coming out here and looking at the stars,” he said, rocking his head to the side to smile at me. Our gazes locked. “You know, before I met you, I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to fly to the moon, to walk on the planets, to travel to Pluto and beyond.”

“You never told me that.” Feeling a little funny inside, I broke that invisible connection linking us and stared up again, letting myself be lost in the vastness of it all. It was so much safer doing that, looking up, watching the stars twinkle, the lights of distant planes cut a path across the heavens.

“That’s because we met when I was in high school. By then I knew I wouldn’t be able to do all those things, though I wasn’t done fighting for it. My pop made it clear; my place was here. Working his ranch. And to hell with my dreams. There was no money for college. And no way they could afford to replace me if I left.”

At the sound of regret in his voice, my defenses crumbled. Was this guy laying beside me, being open and honest, the same one that had tossed those awful pick up lines at me? “I remember you used to talk about wanting to leave Wyoming. To travel to every state. To go to school in California…”

“Yeah. I wanted to leave. Didn’t we all? But I knew in my case it was all talk. I’d be stuck here forever. I would just have to make the best of it.”

My heart twisted.

I’d had such a wonderful experience at school. Dorm life. Friends. Parties. I was sure I’d never forget it. Now I realized how much I’d taken that opportunity for granted. So many people never had the chance to go to school, to be wild and free. I was lucky. Very lucky. “I’m sorry.”

“Now, don’t go feeling sorry for me. That’s not why I told you.” Rolling onto his side, and propping his head on one hand, he cupped my chin. I turned my head toward him, and his thumb grazed my lower lip. The air seeped from my lungs and a pulse of heat throbbed through my body.

The wanting was still there, and as strong as ever. How could that be, after what he’d done to me? How?

“Clay,” I whispered, my voice low and husky. It sounded more like an invitation than what I’d intended—a warning.

He dipped his head lower and brushed his lips across mine. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve tasted this mouth. I’ve been hoping, waiting, wishing I would have a chance to taste it again.”

A tiny groan rumbled in my throat.

Resist. I had to resist. I couldn’t fall for his charm again. Could not.

I pressed both palms against his chest. It was so hard. And broad. Deep crevasses cut between the bulges of his muscles. My fingertips traced them, meeting in the center. His heartbeat thumped beneath my hands, fast and hard, just like mine. “Clay, we can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He sealed his mouth to mine, and the world spun. Memories flashed in my head.

Lazy summers.

Kisses.

Longing.

Love.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, exploring, claiming, conquering. He rolled, one leg resting across mine, his body leaning heavily on mine. His heat seeped into my pores and thundered through my body. Blazes ignited. My nipples hardened. My center burned.

I wanted him. His kiss. His touch.

No, I
needed
it. God help me, I needed it.

But if I let myself trust him again, would he finish what he started all those years ago? Would he take my fractured heart and crush it into a million fragments so tiny I’d never be able to patch it back together again?

The western sky was aflame, much like my body. At the horizon clouds stained brilliant salmony pink and dusty lavender arched overhead as my skin simmered, a blush creeping up my neck and over my face.

Clay’s kiss was a natural force, as dangerous as the wild, thrashing Colorado river. As wicked and powerful as a category five Texas tornado. And as beautiful as a Hawaiian sunset.

His kiss made me forget.

It made me surrender.

My body grew heavy and warm. I flung my arms around his neck. I had to or I’d spin off into outer space. The world around us vanished. And then it was just us. Male and female. Two bodies, entwined.

He left my mouth to nip the sensitive skin of my neck and I shivered. Goose bumps prickled my arms, shoulders, chest and back. I tightened my hold on him. Was I making a huge mistake? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. All I knew was I was in his arms and he was in mine and I was burning and gasping and trembling.

“Please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for. Did I want him to stop? Did I want him to kiss me again? Yes. And yes.

“Damn, I love that sweet little voice of yours. I’ve missed it since the day you left.” He pushed up my top and kissed the swell of my breasts, and my back arched, lifting my chest higher. “I missed these too. Every inch of this body.” Pulses of heat blazed through my body with every racing thud of my heart. It was at a full gallop, shoving white-hot blood racing through me. That heat swirled around and around, like a massive whirlpool, funneling to my center where it pounded and throbbed.

“Oh God.” I hooked my fingers, digging them into his shoulders, and rocked my hips up to grind against his leg. But that pressure and friction was only making things worse. My pussy was burning. I needed it filled. Now. NOW.

“Easy, baby.” He slid one hand under my skirt to cup my wet, hot crotch through my underwear. “Damn, you’re so wet.”

Burning. I was burning up. I shuddered. “I didn’t want to do this,” I mumbled as a brief moment of clarity struck me. But his fingers started moving, stroking my labia, and
poof
, my thoughts vanished. I was no longer a rational woman. I was a quivering mess of need.

“I missed you. I know I fucked up. I’ve lived with the regret all this time, never thinking, never hoping I might get a second chance.” His fingers hooked around the crotch of my panties and then there was a swift jerk.They tore away, and a delicious breeze chilled my pussy for a split second. But that relief didn’t last long. The wicked, cruel man kissed a path down my body before stopping at the apex of my thighs. With his fingers, he parted me, opening me up.

And with his tongue he conquered me.

I was his.

To kiss.

To lick.

To take.

He brought me to the verge of climax with that terrible, naughty tongue.

But then he stopped, leaving me to teeter on the edge. I wanted to cry.

I lurched upright. “What the hell are you doing?” I tore at his shirt, shoving it up to his shoulders. “What are you doing to me?” I clawed at his smooth, warm skin.

He angled back slightly and stared into my eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to change your mind.”

“Change my mind? Why would I do that?”

“After what happened before…” He shoved his fingers through his hair, messing the adorable waves. “I really fucked up. I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I mean that. I really, really fucked up.”

“We were both young then. Immature. But that was then. And this is now.” I unzipped his pants and stuffed my hand down them. His cock fit in my palm just as well as it did all those years ago. And I knew it would fit somewhere else just as well, too. I tightened my hold on his thick erection. “Does this say ‘no’ to you?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He cupped my face and smashed his mouth over mine. This kiss was hungry and demanding. Not sweet. Not gentle. Nothing like the first one. It was a possession. A domination. Fierce. Feral. Unapologetic.

It made my bones melt and my head spin and every nerve in my body zap and buzz.

He pushed me down and climbed on top of me, his hips wedged between my thighs. Oh yes, that felt so good. So right. Trapped beneath him. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. His mouth devoured mine while my body softened, contouring to his. My nipples hardened, poking against his smooth, bare chest.

Now I wasn’t just physically invested in this; I was emotionally invested too. He’d said he was sorry. He’d admitted he’d messed up. He was looking for the chance to make it all up to me. He’d thought about me all this time.

And yes, I’d never have admitted it before now, but I’d thought about him too.

Now, here we were. Years later. Kissing as if those years had never passed. As if we were still those two lonely kids, looking for a connection, for love, to fill the void in their lives.

Maybe Aunt Sandee had known about Clay and me. Maybe she’d planned this all along, knowing we’d be forced to come to terms with our past. Maybe she knew it was worth it, to get a second chance at what we’d failed to find then because we weren’t ready at the time.

I was ready. For love. For commitment. For everything that came with those things.

Wasn’t I?

Yes. Sure.

The thick ridge of his erection grinded against my pussy.

But…but…

The thick head pushed between my labia.

The last time I was on fire for any man it was Clay. Four years ago. And then he’d ripped my heart out and tossed it away.

Oh God, this was happening too fast. Much too fast. What was I doing?

He gave me a chance to say no. He was right. I needed a minute to think. What was I doing?

What the
fuck
was I doing?

“Wait,” I said, sucking in shallow gasps of air. My heart was thumping fast and hard. My head was spinning. “Please, stop.”

He jerked backward, lifting his upper body with his arms. We stared at each other, both gasping and flushed. Dark need flashed in his eyes and the air crackled with electricity. An invisible force tugged at us, pulling our bodies closer, closer. And once again, a pounding ache throbbed between my legs. Stomach muscles contracted, hips rocked, wet, warm tissues rubbed against narrow hips. And quivers shimmied up my spine.

My head screamed stop.

But my body shouted yes, yes, YES.

One side of his mouth curled up, producing a wicked smile. He caught my wrists in one hand and pinned them over my head.

Ooh! This was different, how he took control. Exciting!

He slid his free hand down my arm. Fingertips tickling, soft touches teasing. They traveled across the top of my chest then down the center, over my racing heart.

I sucked in a breath and held it, waiting, wondering what he would do next…and what
I
would do next. I could barely believe it. Here I was. Here we were. Together again. Bodies writhing beneath a blanket of stars.

After all this time. And all that heartbreak.

He said he’s sorry. He won’t do it again.

His wandering fingertip followed the curve of my breast, and nerves fired, sending heat pulsing through my body. Still, even as my body surrendered to his touch, warnings echoed through my mind. Struggling with my inner conflict, I writhed, trying to tug my hands free. The man I was with today was much stronger than the teen I’d known four years ago. Strong hands, arms… will.

If I didn’t stop him now, I would lose my chance. There would be no refusing him. Even if I wanted to. He would have me. Tonight. Now.

“Say it,” he whispered in my ear.

His warm breath caressed the sensitive skin on my neck. It dimpled, goose bumps burning my arm and chest.

“Say what?” I asked. What did he want to hear?

What did I want to say? No? Stop? Yes? Please?

Oh God, I was so confused!

His hand glided down the hollow of my stomach and I shuddered.

“Say it,” he repeated, voice sharper. He traced a line down the column of my neck with the tip of his tongue and I shivered. I curled my fingers into tight fists.

“Say what?” I repeated, this time on a whimper. That wicked hand slipped down between my trembling legs, and I sucked in a gasp. I couldn’t breathe. “I…” I mumbled. I gazed up into eyes so dark and dangerous my muscles locked.

Dammit, what do I want?Make up your fucking mind!

His lip curled into a sexy smile. “I tried to resist. This is going to complicate everything. But…dammit…” He fisted my hair, forcing my head to the side.

What the hell was this? Why was he being so rough?

And what did he mean, tried to resist?

I wanted answers. But I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I shut down. Shock. Need. I was so overwhelmed by both I merely lay there. My scalp burned, but I didn’t cry out. The pain was nothing compared to the agony pounding through the rest of my body.

Pain so, so good.

I opened my mouth. Words sat on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t know what those words were, not until I heard them. “Do it. Take me.”

Did I really just say that?

Releasing my hair, he grabbed my top with both hands. “What did you say?” He yanked it over my head and a gush of juices dampened my labia. He unhooked my bra. “What did you say?”

What had I said? I couldn’t remember. All I knew was this horrible, empty ache inside. I was trembling and desperate. I wanted him inside me, stroking it away. No, I
needed
him inside me.

“Say it again.” He straddled my hips and pushed my bra straps down my arms, freeing my breasts. He pinched both nipples. Sharp blades of pleasure-pain stabbed through my body. “Say it, Morgan.”

“I want...”

“What?”

Yes, what?What do I want?

Oh God. This was all too much. I needed relief. Desperately. But every few seconds a thought would fly through my head and I would second-guess everything. That was happening right now. Right this very second. “I…I don’t know.”

“This?” He rolled my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, and I sucked in a deep breath.

“Ah, so that
was
it.” He bent over my aching breasts. A warm tongue lapped at one nipple and the burning in my body amplified. Moving lower, he teased me, tormented me, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin on my trembling stomach. Lower, he traced the waistband of my skirt. My hips rocked forward. My empty channel clenched. Cream gushed.