Do Me Right (8 page)

"Makes my attempts at acting out seem pretty ridiculous," he said.

She smiled. "I never do anything halfway."

He took another drink and studied her over the rim of his glass. "So what happened?"

"My brother came and got me one day and told me to stop trying to kill myself or he'd make me
wish
I was dead. He moved me in with him, made me go back to school and generally stayed on my case every day."

"I bet you hated that."

She nodded. "I did. But I loved him. And I knew he loved me." She reached for her own glass to chase down the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. All that had happened so long ago; it surprised her that she could still be so emotional about it.

Kyle's hand covered hers. "I'd like to meet this brother of yours someday."

She nodded. "Zach's pretty special."

"I guess you miss him, now that he's-- Where did you say? Chicago?"

She nodded again, swallowing another lump of tears. "Yeah, but from what I hear, he's having a blast. Learning about art and being in love and all."

He stared out over the water, his face solemn. "So you're here carrying on the family business, so to speak, while I'm doing everything I can to stay away from the business my own family's built up over the years." He glanced at her. "I must seem pretty stupid to you."

"No." She shook her head. "I don't think that at all."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. Maybe I am stupid. It's not like I don't know all about ranching, or like I don't have any talent for it."

"Actually I think it takes a special kind of bravery to walk away from what everyone else thinks is good but what you know in your heart isn't right for you."

Their eyes met, and for an instant the independence she'd clung to so fiercely for so long receded and she gave in to a seldom-acknowledged fantasy of belonging to someone. Crazy as it sounded, she and this cowboy had made a connection that went beyond a physical joining. For the first time ever, she felt as if someone understood her and knew what she was feeling.

Then the waiter arrived to pour more wine and the spell was broken. Kyle focused on his steak again and she stared out over the railing, glad of the dim light to hide the sudden flush that warmed her face. Obviously she'd had too much to drink if she was having crazy thoughts like that. The only thing she and Kyle shared was physical attraction. Anything else was pure imagination on her part.

When dinner was over, Kyle paid the check and they walked back out to his truck. She assumed they'd head back to her apartment now, but instead he headed out to Highway 2222, the winding road that led along Lake Travis.

"Where are we going?" she asked. She wasn't in the mood for drinking or dancing or anything else he had in mind. All she wanted was to be back at her place, naked and in bed. A rowdy night of lovemaking was bound to knock her out of the blue mood she'd been fighting all evening.

"I thought a change of scenery would be nice," he said. His smile was mysterious, his eyes full of repressed laughter. He probably expected her to ask for a better explanation, but she refused to play his game. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared out the truck window, her bad mood getting worse.

After a while, he turned off onto a side road, then onto a smaller dirt road. He steered the truck over ruts and around holes until they emerged in a wide, grassy spot surrounded by trees and brush. He shut off the engine, and the sudden quiet rang in her ears. He looked at her expectantly.

She reached down and took her phone from her purse. "Is this where I call 911 and tell them you're up to no good out in the middle of nowhere?"

He unsnapped his seat belt and leaned toward her. "I was hoping the two of us might get up to no good together."

His words sent a shiver of excitement through her but she wasn't ready to give up her bad mood just yet. She kept a stern look on her face. "Is this your idea of sexy--making out in your truck in some field?"

He moved closer still and pressed his lips against the soft underside of her neck. "I think anywhere with you is sexy, but who said anything about staying in the truck?"

The words vibrated through her, and the trail of kisses he laid down her throat and across her collarbone set up other vibrations until every nerve hummed with anticipation. "You're crazy," she managed to gasp.

"Absolutely." He unsnapped her seat belt, then reached across and opened the passenger door. "Let's take a little walk," he said.

She got out of the truck and he followed. Taking her hand, he led her around to the back of the truck. The clearing they were in wasn't very large--maybe twenty yards in diameter, surrounded by tangled knots of scrub oak and yaupon. In the darkness, she could see little beyond the circle of the truck's headlights, but nothing in view struck her as particularly inviting. "You know, I'm not really the outdoorsy type," she said.

"I kind of figured that." He lowered the tailgate of the truck and patted the resulting flat surface. "Sit up here a minute, okay?"

She did as he asked, curiosity overcoming stubbornness. He walked up to the toolbox behind the cab and stripped the cast from his arm. He tossed it into the cab and flexed his fingers.

"How does it feel?" she asked.

"A little tender, but it'll do." He opened the toolbox and pulled out a large plastic trash bag from which he removed several blankets and quilts. Another bag held two pillows, while a third opened to reveal a thick foam pad. Finally he took out a cardboard box and unpacked an oil lamp, which he set on top of the toolbox and lit.

"What are you doing?" she asked, though she was beginning to get the idea.

"No sense being uncomfortable." He unrolled the foam pad into the bed of the truck and topped it with the blankets and pillows. Then he walked around and turned off the headlights. The truck was a dimly lit island now in a sea of darkness.

He walked back around to where she was sitting on the tailgate. "Romantic enough for you?" he asked.

"You're crazy," she said, but she put her arms around his neck and spread her legs so he could stand between them. He was the perfect height now for kissing, so she did.

She was ready to put her whole body into that kiss, eager to wrap her arms and legs around him, but he held her back, his hands on either side of her rib cage keeping them apart. She gave a low growl of impatience, then forgot everything in the skillful play of lips and tongue. He seemed to find every sensitive nerve in and around her mouth and teased it to full awareness. He nipped and licked and suckled until she was breathless and quivering.

"Who taught you to kiss like that?" she asked when they paused to catch their breaths.

His smile could have melted chocolate. "A gentleman never tells."

"Just as well. If I knew, I'd have to kill her. Right after I thanked her, of course." She brought her lips to his once more, and this time he pulled her close until every possible inch of their bodies touched. The sensitive points of her nipples rubbed against the hard wall of his chest. He slid his hand up her ribs and stroked the sides of her breasts with his thumbs, every touch sending a new shudder of arousal through her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, the thick ridge of his erection flush against her crotch. She ground against him, both frustrated and excited by the leather and fabric keeping them apart. Instinct drove her to want to get down to the business of satisfying this need within her quickly, but she knew from experience there was even more pleasure to be had in waiting.

He lowered his head and ran his tongue along the top edge of the bustier, then reached up and began unfastening the hooks at the front of the garment, covering each new section of exposed flesh with wet kisses. "Have I mentioned I really like this top?" he said as he worked his way toward her stomach.

"Ah...no. But...thank you." He'd peeled back the satin to expose her breasts and was paying particular attention to her nipples now, which made it difficult to talk. But who needed speech when they were communicating so well without saying a word?

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, anxious to feel his skin against her. One button flew off into the darkness and yet another broke in her hand. He laughed and tugged her fingers away. "Better let me or I'll have to buy a new shirt."

"Don't you think clothing is overrated?" she asked with a coy look at her own naked chest.

In a matter of seconds, his shirt joined the button somewhere in the darkness. She hugged him close, pressing her breasts, still wet from his mouth, against the hard heat of his chest. He smoothed his hand down her back, then slipped under the waistband of her pants and cupped her bottom. "It feels so good to have
both
my hands on you," he said.

"This is nice, but there's still too many clothes in the way," she said and reached for his belt buckle.

"I couldn't agree more." In one motion, he pushed the bustier off her shoulders and sent it sailing after his shirt. Then he grasped her waist and bent his head. The next thing she knew, he was lowering the zipper on her pants--with his teeth!

"What are you doing?" She giggled, both aroused and tickled by his "no-hands" approach.

"I'm getting you naked." Except, with his teeth clenched around the zipper, it came out, "I'm gedding oo naketh."

She shook with laughter, but her mirth gave way to moans of pleasure when he stripped off the pants and the silk thong she wore beneath them and pushed her back onto the blankets. The mouth that had proved so dexterous with a zipper proved just as adept at pleasuring her.

Lost in a fog of sensation, she was only faintly aware of him stripping off the rest of his own clothes and joining her on the blankets. His fingers took the place of his mouth on her clit, while his mouth returned to her breasts. She writhed against the onslaught of sensation. The erotic combination of warm night air and Kyle's even warmer mouth and hands made her more aware of her own body than she'd ever been before. Had her breasts always felt so full and aching cradled in a man's palms? Had her stomach ever quivered this way before? she wondered as he traced his tongue around the indentation of her navel. Had her thighs ever trembled like this? she thought as he coaxed them farther apart.

He slid two fingers into her and began to stroke, slow and easy, bringing her to the edge and no further. He raised his head and watched her while his hand continued to work its magic. "Still think this was a bad idea?"

She shook her head. "No." Right now, she couldn't imagine a more wonderful idea. There was something surreal about being here in this nest of blankets and pillows, out in the open but intimately private, alone in the golden halo of lamplight. This was so...romantic. Like something that would happen in a romance novel or the movies. Not to her.

"Look up," he said.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the sky. A thousand pinpricks of light pierced the blackness, and as she watched more appeared, like distant lights twinkling on. And while she was still marveling at the light, Kyle entered her. His face filled her vision and the sensation of him moving in her and over her captured all her senses.

She reached up and grasped his arms, the muscles like sun-warmed iron beneath her fingers. She wanted to hold on to him, to hold on to this moment, but already it was getting away from her. He'd been too skillful at bringing her to the height of arousal, and now she could only surrender and ride desire to the edge and over. If no stars fell, at least a warm, sparkly sensation filled her, as if she'd somehow swallowed starlight.

She kept her eyes closed through the hard thrusts of his own climax, his cries of satisfaction ringing in her ears, the glow of the lantern bright against her eyelids. His hands were strong on her shoulders; his thighs clasping and holding her, not forceful but protective. Any other time she would have balked at the idea, but somehow, for now it felt right.

He lay atop her, his head on her shoulder, his arms keeping most of his weight off her while he remained close. Still connected. She put her arms around him, idly trailing her fingers up and down his spine, feeling the ridge of each vertebra, his skin warm and taut beneath her fingertips. After this night, she thought she might recognize him by touch alone. She remembered the first night they'd been together, when he'd blindfolded her. Had it begun then, her acute awareness of the shape of his muscles, the feel of his skin, the smell of his hair?

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, his voice muffled against her neck.

"How do you know I'm smiling?"

"I can feel your lips curved up where they're pressed against my cheek."

"Maybe you're imagining things."

He raised his head and looked down at her, his grin meeting hers. "So what do you think of my outdoor bedroom?"

"I think it's pretty amazing." She looked up at the stars, unable to stop grinning. This was something she wanted to remember forever. Even when she was old, she'd remember lying here, a goddess in her own secret wilderness.