Rebel Cowboy (17 page)

She sighed, her breath cooling the rain on his own skin, and if he were a man prone to shivering, he
might
never have stopped.

He pushed her bra down, groaning at the sight of her. Her nipples puckered from the wet and cold, goose bumps rising up across her chest as drops of water from her hair slid down the expanse of pale skin. “I could look at you all damn day,” he said, reverent.

He had to back her against the wall, just so he could have something to lean against. Something to keep him upright. She was killing him just by existing, killing him with every stroke of fingertip against skin, a tantalizing design from chest to stomach, stomach to…sweet Christ, finally she grasped him again.

But he wanted more than her hand, needed more. If he was going to be killed, it was damn well going to be inside of her.

He pushed at her pants, trying to get them off. He was so desperate for more, for her, for anything and everything that meant they were together. “Let me fuck you now. Right now. Please, I need to be inside you.”

The noise she made, like something between a moan and a sigh just about buckled his knees, but he used the wall as support while she tried to get her wet pants off. He watched, completely enthralled as more and more of her came into view—those long legs, the muscles in her arms working as she tried to free herself from clothes.

“Condom. Condom. Condom.” She chanted it, like she was trying to remind herself as much as tell him. Pushing her panties off, so all that was left on were socks and her bra at her waist.

“Don’t. Move.”

He didn’t pause to see if she would listen. He didn’t pause for anything. He got the condom, peeled off his pants and boxers, and was already tearing the packet open when he returned.

She was still standing against the wall, palms resting against it, chest rising and falling, her bra still askew, her hair even more askew, and her eyes wide. There was something wild and desperate in them, matching exactly what he felt.

It pounded through him, some distant beat he didn’t recognize. There was a heaviness to the desperation inside of him. There was something more under all this. More than sex. More than sex with Mel.

That was the absolute last thing he wanted to think about right now. He rolled the condom on and she watched, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth. When he just stood there, her gaze finally met his.

“Come here,” she said, an order hidden underneath breathlessness.

He was helpless to ignore any order she might give, so he came closer. He reached around to unclasp her bra and let it fall to the ground, and then he trailed his hand down her back, her ass, grabbing her leg and pulling it around his waist.

He might not want to
think
about more, but it permeated the air between them. This thing. Heavy and real.

“Tell me…tell me you need this, Mel.”

“I do. I…” Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she braced herself against the wall so he could lift her other leg, slowly push inside of her.

He had to take a breath and a moment to absorb the way things seemed to click into place when they were together like this. It was more than pleasure; it was right.

She locked her legs around him, and he was able to grab her hips, hold her where he needed her to be. Against him, taking him, holding on to his shoulder like he was all there was to hold on to.

“Look at me when you say it.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and her mouth opened soundlessly for a moment. He held himself still, eyes locked on hers. He needed the words, the look in her eyes. He needed so much, and he didn’t know how to get it all. When she said it, she whispered it.

“I need you, Dan.”

Which wasn’t what he’d asked, and if he couldn’t see her regret at saying it, he might have been frightened enough by that. But she didn’t want her need any more than he’d be able to handle it.

“I need you to…” She looked panicked for a second, as if she was trying to take back all the words. As if she didn’t understand he wasn’t ready for them. “I need you to f-fuck me. Hard, please. Really. Just…rough. Make it…go away.”

That was something he could handle. And even if he didn’t know what she wanted him to make go away, he could imagine. This feeling, this desperation, this need. The scary ribbon of connection that seemed to wind its way between them whether they wanted it to or not. Make it go away.

Yes. They both needed this, whether they wanted to or not.

He had to stop and pull himself together. All the strange pieces floating around inside of him with no center, no surety, no belief. He needed to piece them together, for this. For her. To survive.

Then he gave her exactly what she asked for. Hard, rough. Every time he thrust deep and thoughtlessly, she moaned, clutched his shoulders tighter, egged him on.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her breath panting against him, her body arched and still damp from rain, from exertion, who knew. He didn’t care. He wanted her like this always, taking him, wanting more from him. Nothing in the air but the sounds of their heavy breathing and their bodies coming together. Nothing else existed except the feel of her, except being inside of her.

“Come for me, Mel. I can’t…” How much longer could he do this and not lose himself in it? Her eyes were closed, arms clamped around his neck, her whole backside pressed against the wall. Every time he pushed deep, she made a sound, but she still held on tight to that last moment, that last give.

He did the only thing he could think of—he reached up and tugged on the braid that was hanging over her shoulder, pushing deep.

“Yes, that’s…God.” She spasmed against him, her grip on his neck almost unbearable as she moved her hips. He lost himself in her orgasm, in her, in everything.

He was shaking, not sure how much longer he’d stay upright, about to tell her so, but his mouth didn’t work. Nothing worked as the last blasts of pleasure edged through him.

Mel unlocked her legs, her arms. Managed to get to her feet, but she slid down the wall, something like a shaky laugh escaping her lips as her butt hit the floor. He had to lean against the wall to keep upright, Mel sitting at his feet.

“I think I might be dead,” he said.

“No deader than me,” she replied, sounding out of breath and shaky still.

“Can someone be deader than someone else?”

She only shook her head, pressing a hand to the center of her chest as if trying to catch her breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever catch his again.

She looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips, both pleased and shy and a million other things he couldn’t get a hold on. He’d put all those there. He had done that.

He wanted to keep doing it. He reached out his hand. “Come to bed.”

Her gaze dropped, and she did the thing where she pressed her tongue to the corner of her mouth, and well, he felt a little stir where he’d just lost himself.

“Or…”

“Or what?” he asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“We could take a shower. Together.” Slowly, she took his hand and let him help her get to her feet with a kind of grace he’d never seen from her. It was languid, slow, smooth—none of the sharp, determined way of moving she usually had about her.

She pressed her hand to his chest, and he liked the way she did that. As if it cemented them together, as if she needed to. Then she leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest as she whispered in his ear. “I want to put my mouth on you.”

He blinked in surprise.

“If you’re interested.” Her hand dropped and she sauntered to his bathroom, pulling the band out of her hair before disappearing.

So he did the only reasonable thing a person could do in that situation: he scurried after her.

Mel had no idea what she was doing, if Dan would follow, if this made any sense. But she didn’t care. She didn’t
care
, and since she didn’t, she’d keep on this path for as long as she could.

She’d told him what she wanted. Something hard and rough, and she couldn’t believe she had
said it
, and he had
given
it to her. It had been like…it had been like
nothing
she’d ever experienced.

And she wanted more. More of all the things she’d always been too embarrassed or uncomfortable to ask for. To give.

She flicked the shower on. Her hands were shaking—from that orgasm, from adrenaline, from fear, she had no idea. She didn’t care.

A laugh bubbled up and out of her mouth. She didn’t
care,
and it was the most wonderful damn thing.

“What is so funny?”

She took a deep breath and slowly turned to face him. Naked in his bathroom doorway. She hadn’t had a chance to really look at him, hadn’t had the bravery to unabashedly stare at his naked body and take it all in.

All. In.

There was a uniformity to the hue of his skin, like he didn’t spend a lot of time in the sun. He was like one of those marble statues, every muscle rounded, defined, the only interruption to the smooth look of him the pattern of chest hair that trailed down the center of his abs—like seriously well-defined
abs
—to…

She sucked in a breath. He was hard and thick, and since it had only happened a few minutes ago, it was no trouble remembering what it felt like buried inside her. Against the wall. Unrelenting. Perfect.

Even his legs were things of beauty, sculpted muscle, strong, capable of, well, screwing her against the wall. Capable of shaking her foundation so loose she wasn’t sure she had one anymore.

Seriously. That had happened, and it was better than even the lame fantasies she’d had of it. A pleasure so unyielding even
she
had to give into it, get swept away by it. And he was so sure, and so strong, big… He’d held her against the wall as though she weighed nothing, filled her as though she’d always been waiting for exactly that.

A man whose touch could make her feel aglow, whose gaze was so intense and focused on
her
it felt like touch. A man who could fill her with so much excitement and lust and desire, her brain didn’t have room to work.

It would be scary if she dwelled on it, so she did the most unbelievable thing she could think of instead. She flashed a grin, crooked a finger, and stepped inside the shower.

It was small, with a little rust, a lot of hard water stains, but when Dan stepped into the small space with her, none of that mattered. She dipped her head into the warm spray. Her hair would be a tangled mess when it was all said and done, but oh well.

Dan’s hands rested on her hips, each fingertip a pressure point against her skin. Each pressure point the start of a delicious trail of heat that all centered at her core. It had been only minutes, but just the simplest touch had her wanting again. Needing again.

She sighed into the spray, until he pressed her against the shower tile, his mouth covering hers. His body covered hers, so much broader and stronger. Against him she felt like she didn’t have to be strong or capable. She could just accept his kiss, his touch, let it lightning through her, an electricity she didn’t want to fight.

She smiled against his mouth—smiled because this was a moment worth enjoying, worth soaking up without worry or caution or any of the usual things that tightened her into a ball of stress that couldn’t ever let go.

His tongue traced her smile, his hands smoothing up her sides before palming her breasts; every time he touched, grasped, held, the trails of heat centered deeper, wanted more. And somehow in wanting more, she wanted to give more.

“Soap?” she said against his mouth.

He reached behind her and produced a bottle of shower gel, the kind you knew was meant for guys, because of course it was blue and had
action
written like three times on the label. When she squirted some on her hand, it smelled like him.

She handed the soap back to him, and then met his gaze as she took his length in her hand, squeezing gently as she stroked, feeling him grow harder as she slid her hand back down to the base. His eyes fluttering closed, water cascading down those unbelievable shoulders. Water droplets collected on his dark eyelashes, in the indentation above his collarbone. They trailed down the expanse of his chest, over the dip above his hips.

She wasn’t sure this was real. In fact, she’d go with that. This wasn’t real, so she could do whatever she wanted, however she wanted, and there would be no consequences.

So she knelt in front of him, allowing the spray to hit everywhere she’d just soaped up, wash away the lather. She ran her hands over his thighs, coarse hair, ridiculous muscle. The long length of him at eye level. She’d
told
him she wanted her mouth on him. She’d initiated this, because she wanted to give him something, because she wanted this thing he did to her to be mutual.

He raked his fingers through her hair, getting tangled there, stuck, tugging a little. Something about that little shock of pain eradicated the nerves enough that she could take him into her mouth. All the way until he hit the back of her throat and she had to pull back.

The rumble of his groan egged her on, even more so when his fingers tightened in her hair. She wanted him to lead her where he needed her to go, and he did. Her need grew with his. She wanted more than his hands in her hair, but even bigger than that was the need to give him what he wanted. To be what he wanted.

No nerves, no discomfort, no fear of doing it wrong causing her to hold back, to decline. This wasn’t complicated. It was elemental. It made everything else from the day fade away into desire, into power, into him. And her. Just this.

She filled her mouth with him again, then pulled back, a delicious, decadent rhythm, but this time he pulled her up to her feet.

His eyes glittered with intensity, and she suddenly realized the water had grown cool, though she’d barely noticed, not with his hands wrapped around her arms, pushing her back.

“Bedroom.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Well, sure, okay. She could do that. If he kept ordering her around with that blazing intensity, she could probably do anything. There was something about him taking over, taking charge that made her want to dissolve and go with the flow. As long as the flow led to him on top of her, inside of her, touching her until those lovely waves of pleasure washed over her and made her weak.

Who knew weak could be good? Could be…everything.

He stepped out of the shower, his fingers trailing off her skin, and everything got so much colder even as he flipped off the water.

But then he grabbed a towel from a crooked-hanging cabinet and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing the rough fabric into the wet ends of hair that hung down her back.

The heat was back, with his hands rubbing circles on her back, his cock brushing her hip, the memory of it deep inside her mouth, inside of her.

“Come on, Cowgirl.” He led her to the hallway, and she let him do it. Because it felt nice to be led. Refreshing. Rejuvenating.

“Please don’t make a riding joke,” she said.

He flashed that lethal grin. “Not even one?”

“Surely you’ve got better lines than that.”

He nudged her into his room, closer and closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. The light from the hallway poured in, but otherwise the room was dark, his eyes were dark, his face a mix of shadows and light.

He stood there, hands on her shoulders, gaze on hers. They were naked and wet and he was just
staring
at her. She didn’t like that look, the “she was the center of the world” look. It felt so much bigger than hot as sin sex. It felt like…everything.

No, she didn’t like that at all, so she dropped the towel and stepped to him, pressing against him. Everything. Body. Mouth. Stepped into the fire. Surely he was fire, burning away everything that kept her whole, but she didn’t want to be whole anymore. She wanted to be a million shattered pieces, and he could do that.

She pulled him onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, her arms reaching out blindly for the drawer where he kept the condoms. She fumbled and missed, but his arm was longer and more on point. Still something rattled off the nightstand when he jerked the door open, but it didn’t stop him from kissing her, from using his other hand to hold her in place underneath him.

She would gladly be held here for eons. That big strong hand making her feel as though it was all that mattered. Him, holding her there. His fingers and palm a vice from which pulls of pleasure wound through her limbs.

Weak. Yes, weak was good. Weak was an amazing contrast to strong.

“I
will
return the favor, but for now, I need to be inside you.”

She had no idea how he said those things so easily, so…all sexy growly that made her feel like that was the only possible thing she could ever want. She could do that. She might not know how he did it, but she could be that in the moment. She took the condom packet from him and tore it open. “Say what you said out there.”

“What did I say out there?” he asked, hissing out a breath as she worked shaking hands to roll the latex over him.

“That…” No consequences, no embarrassment. She asked for what she wanted, and he gave it. She finished rolling the condom on, determined not to chicken out. “That… That you need to fuck me.” Just saying the word with his eyes on her made her pulse jump, the ache between her thighs throb with need. But it would be nothing compared to
him
saying it. To him doing it.

He groaned, but not the kind that made her feel stupid. It was a groan that made her feel powerful. He would give her what she asked for because they wanted the same thing. She might be weak and small compared to him, but that was part of it. He didn’t need her to be strong. He simply needed her. She led him to her, but he pulled away.

“Roll over,” he instructed.

He groaned again when she did so, his rough hands roaming the curve of her ass. There had never been anything like this, like him, like the recklessness bouncing around like pinballs inside of her.

His hands moved back up to her hips, gripping her there in the way that made her stomach flip, the way that had her arching her back for more. She wanted to be held and grabbed and led. Who knew?

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” he said in that growly sex voice.

“I-I’m okay,” she replied, hearing what sounded like nerves and knowing it was anything but. It was desperation. She was shaking with it.

He slid inside her, slow, deep, and she had to grasp the rumpled comforter and press her forehead into the bed just to keep from crying out. It was as though where they met was the only thing that existed, that sharp slide of pleasure.

“Still just okay?” he asked, humor lilting the low rumble of his voice, but the pressure on her hips where he held her was
anything
but humorous. It was centering. It was everything.

“Could take it or leave it,” she managed, but every tremble of her voice, the way she couldn’t help but push her ass against him when he tried to withdraw…yeah, there was no way he didn’t know it was a joke.

“Mm. Could you now?” He withdrew and she waited for more, but he didn’t move, poised at the entrance, his grip unchanging.

She waited, but she wasn’t strong enough to outwait him, to prove she was somehow stronger. She just…didn’t care. She didn’t have to be strong or play a game, she could just want. She could ask or beg. And he would give. “Dan…”

“Oh, honey, I cannot begin to explain how much I love to hear you say my name like that.”

She wanted to argue with that, even though there was nothing to argue. She didn’t know what the need to deny his words was, but luckily he pushed inside her, that deep, slow stroke of everything she needed, and the protest and the desire to argue died away. Far, far away.

The orgasm built, higher, teetering on the edge, and for the briefest of seconds she thought she wasn’t going to be able to topple under it. That the sharp edge of needing more would just stay there until it dulled. But instead of tensing up, letting that worry center itself, she pushed it away. Because this was Dan. He’d found a way to unlock her, to make her into something else, and she wanted him to keep doing that. She focused on his fingers digging into her, the ragged sound and feel of his breath, the wave of pleasure when he plunged deep, until it was waving over her, shaking through her. Release. Sharp and sweet and everything.

He withdrew, taking her hips and flipping her onto her back before pushing her farther onto the bed. Then he was inside her again, over her, the last jolts of pleasure making her sigh.

“Mel, I need…” He kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth. “I need…”

She tangled her fingers in his hair. Even knowing it was a mistake to look at him, to meet gazes, she did it anyway. “Me.”

He didn’t pause, didn’t look away, didn’t stop pushing into her. “You,” he said earnestly.

She should take it back, dial it down, make it stop. She was losing herself, who she was and what she wanted. Something about him burned it away until she didn’t know what was left, but his mouth covered hers as he chased his way to finishing, and she was so tired of doing what she should, she held on and gave everything she had.

* * *

Dan woke up alone, and he wasn’t sure what feeling worked through him when he realized all traces of Mel were gone.

It was bigger than disappointment, deeper than wishing she would have stayed, and it scared the shit out of him.

She’d probably gone home to change and get ready for work. This was not something to feel…anything over. Not if he expected…

Well, that was a bit of a problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know what the hell they were doing.

Usually, what he was doing with a woman was pretty clear. It was either only sex, or it was a few dates and sex in the off-season; but hockey had been the calendar of his life, and there had been no waking up hoping to find someone there, because the lines were clear.