Woman On the Run (16 page)

He could do it, too. She’d let him. He could see that in her eyes. She was a little hesitant, a little shy but she definitely wanted him.

She might even find it exciting if he ripped her clothes off. But if he started ripping, he’d tear a huge hole in his shaky self-control and the lust would come pouring out, like water punching through a cracked dam.

He wouldn’t stop at ripping her sweater and bra and jeans and panties off. No, once he started down that slippery road and allowed instincts to swamp the tight clamp he held on himself, he’d simply drag her to the floor, open her with his fingers and shove his cock in, whether she was ready or not. Hold her legs so far apart she couldn’t move. Start fucking her hard, pounding into her, grinding her into the floor…

She wasn’t ready for a fast and furious fucking, might not ever be ready for that. Cooper would take whatever it was she was willing to give, but she had to give it willingly, when she was ready.

So instead of ripping her clothes to shreds, throwing her on the floor and mounting her, Cooper ran his forefinger around the neck of the sweater and fingered the top little pearl button, watching Sally carefully. Her expression didn’t change. He slowly undid the button, his big hand a little clumsy.

When it opened, revealing an inch of creamy skin, her face relaxed. If he hadn’t been watching so carefully he might not have seen it. It wasn’t a smile; it was more subtle than that. Her tension dissipated a fraction, just enough to let him know they were moving in a direction she recognized. And welcomed.

At the animal level, Sally had sensed how violent his desire was. She could see the tension of his muscles, how tightly he held her chair. She was like a filly, prancing with unease while the stallion approached. Fillies knew that the mating would be wild, furious, brutal. And somehow Sally knew her own coupling with him could turn brutal, too.

The first steps towards sex—the restrained kiss and the slow opening of the button of her sweater—showed her that she could, after all, expect some control from him.

He hoped she was right.

Another button. Another and another. Cooper’s trembling hand started to fumble. Luckily there were only six buttons in all. Sally’s expression became more welcoming with each button coming undone. When he carefully opened the sweater and slid it off her shoulders, she let her breath out on a sigh.

Her white bra had a front catch, which Cooper was grateful for. If he had had to put his arms around her to undo her bra at the back, it might have set him off. Sally dropped her arms and the bra fell, caught between her waist and the chair back, on top of the sweater. She was naked from the waist up.

Sally gave him a tremulous smile, which he didn’t return. He couldn’t smile. What he was feeling was too big for a smile.

Still, a smile was good news. He was doing this right. So far, at least.

Cooper let out a shaky breath. Now he didn’t have to watch her face so carefully. Now he could take a good look at what he’d uncovered.

He felt half dazed when he finally dropped his gaze. She was small, dainty, and utterly perfect. He was almost afraid to touch her, afraid he’d mar the milky pale skin so delicate it looked as if it would bruise if he breathed too hard on it.

He ran one long forefinger around her right breast, then cupped it carefully. He had been right. She fit neatly into his cupped hand. She felt like warm satin. He bent his head and brought his mouth to her breast, licking the small rosy nipple, sucking it. It tasted exactly as he’d imagined it would. Like a cherry. Both her nipples tasted like cherries. When he lifted his head, they were wet from his mouth, hard and deep pink.

Her breathing had sped up. He could see her heartbeat in her left breast, beating overly fast. Desire? Fear?

Cooper leaned forward again, brushing his mouth over hers. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.” He hoped to God that was true.

“No,” Sally whispered. But the voice was soft, uncertain.

This was his cue to keep reassuring her with words, warm her up, soften her up. Sally Anderson was a teacher, a reader. Words would go a long way towards making her relax with him. If he found the right ones, words could even excite her. Cooper needed her to be excited, needed her little cunt to be wet and welcoming. Otherwise this wouldn’t work at all.

It was just his stinking luck that Cooper didn’t have any seductive and reassuring words in him, none at all. Not at the best of times, let alone now, when his brain was blasted with lust. It was a miracle he could even talk at all.

Cooper released his grip on her chair. He needed to get her naked, right now, and he needed both hands free for that. He unsnapped her jeans, pulled down the zipper and opened the jeans, nearly groaning as the backs of his fingers brushed against her soft, flat belly. Curling one arm around her back, Cooper lifted her easily, brushing jeans and panties down and off with his other hand, taking her cotton socks and shoes off with the rest of her clothes. Finally, she was naked.

Oh, shit.

Cooper eased Sally back onto the chair, keeping one hand on her upper thigh, staring at the glossy red curls next to his hand. He moved his head forward until his forehead met hers. “You’re a redhead,” he breathed.

Sally Anderson was a redhead and he was officially a dead man. Any hopes he had of keeping himself a little separate, not falling head over heels for her, were blown right out of the water.

She was stunningly beautiful, smart, kindhearted, warm. And a redhead. He was a goner.

“Yes. Yes, um…yes, I am.” She took in a deep breath, lifting her head away to search his eyes. “Um…is that a problem?” Crazily, Sally looked frozen, uncertain, even a little scared. Did she think he was put off by red hair?

“No.” Cooper cleared his throat. “I love red hair on a woman.”

“Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation of breath than a word. “That—that’s good, then.”

“Mmm.” He couldn’t answer. The noise in his head was too loud for that. He was too busy studying the contrast of his hand on her thigh, his rough dark skin against her soft pale skin. As if it weren’t his, as if it had a mind of its own, his hand shifted, cupped her, right where he wanted to slide his cock in, just as soon as it was humanly possible.

Sally opened her legs, just a little, but enough to be a welcome. The hair covering her mound was soft rather than springy, not too thick. Cooper’s fingers slid through the folds of her sex. They were both trembling now, as he tested her. As he’d suspected, she was tiny. But wet.

Wet was good. Enough of it and he was finally going to be able to sink his aching cock in her. Not now. Not yet. But very soon or he’d die.

He probed her, carefully spreading the wetness around the little opening, circling the clitoris.

It had surprised the hell out of him when a waitress had once said she loved being touched there by him. Apparently, most men poked and prodded, pressing hard, shaking and pumping their hand, as if the clit were a cock. Amazing what assholes men could be.

It was instinctive for him to touch a woman there carefully. They were so soft, it was so small. If you weren’t paying attention, if you were ham-handed, you missed all the little signals a woman’s body was sending you.

A woman’s sex was like a horse’s mouth. Before he hired a ranch hand, Cooper watched how the man used the bit. Horses might be big and rough but they had delicate mouths. Treat it badly and you hurt them. Treat it well and they were yours.

This was where a man’s strength was no use whatsoever. He’d seen big strong tough stable hands fuck up with a horse’s mouth. And big strong tough men fuck up with women.

Horses needed a delicate touch at times. Women were the same. How could you press and saw at flesh so tender and soft?

Sally’s legs were open now. She was getting wetter by the second. Cooper probed with his finger, watching her carefully. Watching the flush rise from her breasts to her face. Watching her mouth fall slightly open to catch more air. Watching her breathing speeding up.

Cooper pressed his finger inside her, feeling the soft flesh open for him. He moved his finger carefully. Most women had a flashpoint, right there…

She moaned and opened her thighs for him more, the muscles in her belly tightening. Cooper stopped, frozen for a moment, his hand stilled. Inside his jeans, he could feel his cock weeping. He shook, a second from coming.

Sally brought a trembling hand to his face. Her hand was no longer icy cold. It felt like a brand against his skin. “Cooper?” She studied his eyes. “Do you—do you want to go to bed?”

“Like I want my next breath,” he rasped. His throat was hot, scratchy. The words felt like stones in his throat, coming out painfully, one by one. “But once I have you on a bed and I get out of these jeans, I’m going to be inside you with my next heartbeat. I won’t be able to stop for anything. So the only foreplay you’re going to get is right now, right here. In this chair.”

“Oh.” Sally’s beautiful mouth rounded into an O. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she processed what he said. She opened her mouth to speak again and his thumb circled her clitoris. Sally’s breath left her lungs with an audible whoosh. He could feel her arousal in a long pull of her internal muscles against his finger and he could see it, in the increased heartbeat in her breast and neck. He gritted his teeth. If his cock swelled any more it would burst out of its skin.

He breathed harshly, in and out, in an effort at control.

“There’s more,” Cooper warned. This had to be said while he still had some blood in his head. “I only have one condom in my wallet. For sentimental reasons, I guess, because it’s been over two years since I had sex. It’s probably expired. And one rubber isn’t going to be enough at all. The way I feel right now, ten won’t be enough. I don’t know how we’re going to deal with that.”

She flushed brightly, going from pale rose to bright pink in an instant. She smiled shakily and tugged at the hand inside her. Cooper let her pull his hand out and was astonished when she brought his hand to her mouth, brushing her lips across his knuckles. His finger and palm were slick with her juices.

“We’re okay,” she whispered. Her eyes were twin turquoise pools. So bright, so deep he felt as if he could drown in them. “I had irregular periods. My gynecologist put me on the pill. There’s no need to—”

Whatever she was going to say was drowned in his mouth. Cooper rose with her in his arms, bearing her away.

Chapter Seven

It was like flying.

Julia had no sensation of gravity at all, of having a weight in this world. Cooper carried her so easily, it was as if she were airborne. What kept her anchored was the feel of his strong muscles holding her and his mouth on hers.

There was no hesitation, no fumbling, no checking rooms. As if he’d lived in the little house all his life, Cooper unerringly made for her bedroom. The door was partially closed and he kicked it open with his booted foot so hard it bounced off the wall. The sound was like the crack of a bullet in the silent night.

It was the first sign that his control was snapping, a sign that that iron grip he held on himself was cracking. If she weren’t held in a net of fire, it would have chilled her. Though every muscle had been hard and tense as he’d kissed her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was massively aroused by the kisses. Sweet gentle kisses, actually. Sweeter than most she’d had.

Any other man would have gone straight for the goods after she’d said she was willing to sleep with him. Not Cooper. He’d kissed her carefully, touched her carefully, watched her carefully, waiting. If she hadn’t seen and sensed his iron control, she’d have thought he was the kind of man who ignited slowly.

But the muscles of his face had been tightly drawn, nostrils flared like a stallion’s. Though she hadn’t dared to stare, she’d caught a glimpse of his massive erection through his jeans.

His control was so tight she’d thought she might get away with a gentle bout of lovemaking and she could cuddle afterwards. That was the part of sex she’d always liked best. The comfort of being held. But if Cooper was already kicking down doors, it was going to be rougher than she bargained for.

Cooper made a beeline for her bed and followed her down, still kissing her. When she was on the bed, he drew away.

The loss of his intense body heat chilled her. Lying on the bed, Julia was suddenly aware of the fact that she was stark naked. She reached for the coverlet to pull it over her.

“Don’t,” he growled. He shook his head, sharply. “Don’t cover yourself.”

“I’m cold,” Julia whispered. She was. And a little frightened, too, though she couldn’t say that. She’d started this, after all. She had no business being reticent. She’d invited Sam Cooper into her bed and there was no turning back now.

But there was something a little scary about Cooper as he undressed in hasty jerky motions, that male grace she’d so admired completely gone. He seemed even larger and more powerful than ever, thick deep muscles flexing and rippling as he stripped. The light from the living room through the open bedroom door allowed her to see Cooper as he jerked off sweater and tee shirt and sent them flying. A few swipes of his hand and he was naked, his large penis jutting out from a dense nest of black pubic hair.

Julia suddenly shivered at seeing what the clothes had masked.