Cabe.” Her gaze dipped slowly, and it felt
like she was touching him, those gray eyes
moving over his chest and down. “I wanted
those four walls, those memories. So I’m
not getting what I want. What I want to
know is, what do you want? If we’re being
honest with one another now?”
“Right now?” he asked in complete
surprise. “You. You made me wait a long
time for you, Rose.” Getting a hand on his
chest, she gave him a little push. She was
touching him again, and he had it bad,
because just that little brush of her fingers
against the cotton of his T-shirt had his
dick stirring in his jeans. He’d followed
her to talk, he reminded himself. Nothing
more.
“No,” she protested. “I’ve been back in
Lonesome for less than a month, Cabe. I
haven’t made you wait at all.”
“I’ve been waiting ten years for you,
Rose,” he growled. “Halfway through high
school, I looked at you and I should have
been shot for the thoughts I had. You were
too young. I was too old. I wasn’t ever
leaving this ranch and you’d made it plenty
clear you wanted your chance to get out
there in the world and explore.”
“But—”
“No buts about it, Rose. I’ve been
waiting a damned long time.”
“I tried,” she interrupted. “Right before I
left for college. I was waiting for you, too,
and I tried. You pushed me away. I thought
I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t who you
needed or wanted, so I went.”
“Christ,” he dragged a thumb over her
lower lip. “You were years younger than
me. You were still in high school and I
was up to my ears in the ranch.” A slow
smile tugged at his mouth. “But I was
tempted, Rose. Far too tempted.”
He stepped back regretfully. He wanted
to wrap himself around her, kiss every inch
of her, because he missed that closeness.
Hell. She’d been gone less than half an
hour, and he missed
her
. There was a
message right there.
“Tell me something first, before we go
any further here,” she said quietly, standing
up and taking a step toward him.
He couldn’t help noticing the
first
. She
wasn’t done with him, and that made him
impossibly, fiercely glad.
“Ask,” he answered roughly. “You
know I’d never lie to you, darlin’. Sure”—
he held up a hand when she got her mouth
open to protest—“I’m guilty as hell of not
being as forthcoming as I should have
been. I shouldn’t have let you leave the
lawyer’s office without hearing the whole
of it. I did, and for that, I’m apologizing.”
She nodded, her hair sliding over her
shoulders. She hadn’t moved, though, so he
started wondering if he had to get on his
knees. Which would put him on a level
with her pretty little panties—and then he
wouldn’t be behaving himself anymore,
and he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing the
right thing.
“Tell me right now if last night was you
feeling guilty.”
“Hell, no,” he growled, and he tossed
his good intentions out the window.
Closing the small space between them, he
slid a hand up her neck to tangle in her
hair.
“We were together because you wanted
me,” she pressed. “And for no other
reason. Just me. You tell me that I’m
enough, that I’m good enough all by myself
here. If that’s not the truth, then you give
me the truth. Now.”
“Yeah.” His other hand stroked down
the straight curve of her spine, arching her
into him. Her hands were on his forearms,
hanging on but not pushing him away. “No
matter what happens between us now, you
think I’m ever forgetting last night? You let
me in, darlin’, all the way in. That’s
something a man doesn’t forget. That’s the
kind of memory I’m going to be
treasuring.”
“It was good,” she admitted wistfully.
“
We
were good,” he countered roughly.
“You were downright perfect. Perfect for
me.”
“Really? You sure about the perfect?”
She peeked up at him, and there was that
look he loved so much. Pure sin and a little
bit of mischief. Christ. When had she
stolen his heart away from him? Because,
looking at her, he knew, clear as day, that
she had and that he wasn’t ever going to be
the same again. “That mean you want to
kiss me again?”
“Always,” he promised, meaning the
words more than she knew. Somehow,
somewhere, he’d gotten it bad. He’d fallen
for his Rose hard and completely.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Sit down for me,
Cabe?”
Before he could straighten out his
emotions or his words, she’d gotten her
hands wrapped in his shirt, turning him like
he was a reluctant calf in the chute. He
went willingly, his erection already
straining at his jeans. Hell, if she would
just stay here in Lonesome, he’d still be
jonesing for her in fifty years.
He loved Rose Jordan.
She pushed gently, and he sank down
obligingly on the picnic table where he’d
found her.
They were outside. On a picnic table.
Hell if he knew how he’d wound up in this
position, but there he was, seated on the
table’s top, while she got on his lap, facing
away from him. He regretted that little
distance, even while he enjoyed the sexy
position, his hands cupping her hips to
steady her.
“You still with me, Cabe?” she asked,
and he slid her hair away from her nape,
exposing the pale curve of her neck. The
white marks from bikini straps had him
fantasizing about stripping her naked.
She straddled him, her legs on either
side of his. Those long bare legs in those
too-short denim cut-offs were killing him,
and then her hands came down on his
thighs. He could feel the heat of her
through his jeans. Hell, he was about to
come right out of those jeans.
“You’re playing with fire, darlin’.”
“And you don’t play at all.” She rocked
forward. The pressure on his cock was a
fiery burst of sensation. Then she was
moving rhythmically, up and down,
forward and back, and he was lost.
He got the button to her shorts open, his
fingers exploring the edges of her silky
little panties. Just barely touching her in a
liquid tease as she moved.
He had to be inside, needed to be there
with her. Scooping her up in his arms, he
got off the table and deposited her at the
edge. His hands stripped off her shorts and
panties. Parting her thighs, he stepped
between them, his hands curving around
her ass as his thumbs sank into sweet, wet
flesh.
Her hands were busy, too, opening his
jeans and finding his cock.
He watched her, watched her skin flush
and grow pinker, grow wet—for
him
. They
were in a secluded spot, but he knew
someone else could come along at any
moment. Could find them here like this.
And he didn’t give a damn. The only thing
that mattered was this woman in his arms.
She was so sensitive, so deliciously
responsive to his touch. He was used to
being right, to being sure of what the right
thing to do was. He ran tens of thousands
of acres, and hundreds of men depended on
him for their living. But the happiness, the
sheer joy on Rose’s face, was something
he hadn’t witnessed before. Finally, he’d
given her what she needed.
He was ready to take her, to feed the
sweet, hot hunger consuming them both, but
she reached for him, her fingers brushing
his dick.
“Let me,” she whispered, her eyes never
leaving his face. She got her hands
wrapped around him, and he bit back a
groan. She made him feel so good. “Let me
do this for you, Cabe.”
She didn’t give him a chance to protest,
just stroked gently, her eyes dropping to
his cock. He wanted to take care of her.
Didn’t know what she wanted from him
now. This was unfamiliar.
Could he let her take charge?
Did he want her to?
He wanted to hold on, to lay her back on
the table and finish what they’d started, but
she’d asked him for something, and he
realized he’d give her anything and
everything. Whatever Rose needed, he’d
provide. And, yet, what she was asking for
now was something he’d never considered
before. To let go. To let her.
His dick liked the idea. He was
painfully hard, his body all on board with
her wicked suggestion. And he was tired of
saying no to her.
Hell
. Those pretty hands of hers
wrapped around his dick were the sexiest
damn thing he’d ever seen. She just held
him, the sweet heat of her palms cupping
his flesh. Learning him.
“You do whatever you want, darlin’.”
The rough growl of his voice broke the
silence stretching out between them as he
turned and leaned back on his elbows,
giving her full access to his body. She
stepped closer into the vee of his spread
thighs, her fingers working his belt buckle
to get his jeans open farther.
Moments later she had him out of the
denim completely.
Her fingers danced up his thighs, and
heat exploded right through him. Christ,
she was really going to do this. Outside,
where anyone could see them. If she
wasn’t careful, he’d come before he ever
got inside her, because being the center of
Rose Jordan’s attention had him hard and
aching. And that was before her fingers
found his balls and cupped him, the pads of
her fingers teasing his aching flesh.
“Let’s see if you mean those words,
Cabe,” she breathed. “You want to be very
still for me right now.”
She leaned forward, and he fisted his
hands on his thighs because he couldn’t,
wouldn’t, move and spoil this moment.
Her mouth found him, and he bit back a
harsh groan.
Christ.
That mouth of hers
was wicked perfection. Hot and wet, she
slid herself over the head of him, exploring
the hard tip until he almost came on the
spot.
She was killing him.
The pleasure was tearing him apart.
She gave and gave, her mouth loving
him and her eyes watching him. Keeping
still now was impossible. His hips moved,
pressing his cock in and out of her soft
mouth.
When her hands moved, stroking his
balls, he gave in, sliding his fingers deep
into her hair. Not guiding, just hanging on.
The world around them narrowed to this
woman, to the erotic heat of her mouth,
followed by the cooler sensation of the air
hitting his dick as he slid free.
He lost himself in the slick, hot feelings.
It was just the two of them. Here. Now.
Giving and taking and giving some more.
Tension building, he thrust in and out.
Harder. Faster. Christ, she was open and
trusting, and she was going to make him
come.
“I’m going to come, Rose.” No way she
could miss the sensual warning in his
voice. He had to make sure this was what
she really wanted.
That wicked smile of hers lit up her face
as she looked up at him, lifting her head
from his throbbing dick even as she
wrapped her hands around him as if she
didn’t want to lose the contact.
“You taste real good, Cabe. Maybe I’m
not stopping.”
“You’re going to make me beg for it,
aren’t you?” he growled.
“Yeah.” She gave him that mischievous
smile of hers again, her thumb rubbing
over the sensitive tip of him. “I really think
I am, Cabe.”
To hell with it.
The least he owed her
were the words. “Let me come inside
you,” he growled.
“Whatever you want,” she echoed. The
erotic power of those words slammed into
him. The fantasies. What he could do to
her. With her.
He lay back, because no way he was