Wrangler (15 page)

Our faces move over each other, he angles his face so he has deeper access. Swirling desire and passion building inside me.

He’s a perfect kisser. Soft and warm, full and urgent but not self-centered.  Not greedy. 

I want to kiss him all night.  And from the way he’s kissing me back, I’m hoping like heck he feels the same way.

We kiss for a long time and the word “nice” just isn’t enough to describe it. 

After what feels like a beautiful hour of making out, the fire is a few glowing embers and his hand caresses my back, moving up, winding his fingers into my hair.  Wherever he touches, I’m alive.  Surges of nerves and tension pulse through my body like waves hitting a beach.

I pull my body to his, my breasts pressing hard against him. Again I’m surprised at my own willingness to give this much.  To be so out there with what I want.

My nipples tingle and pull together.  I feel the faint pump of his heart through his chest wall and into the sensitive flesh of my breast.  I wonder if he can feel mine.  My heart is breaking ribs inside me; my pulse is in my throat, my temples and between my legs.  I’m exhilarated...but terrified. 

How could he want me?  Rachel Sweeting, the fat girl? The ‘cow-girl.’

A tiny moan escapes my lips despite my efforts to hold it back.  I want this kiss to last forever, this moment, this perfect moment.  But, I swear I’m in heat, I want more. I want to feel his hands on me.

All the slick, dirty, moaning feelings.  I want them all.  With him.

The sounds from deep inside me seem to release a fire inside Chad.  His lips move harder on mine, his hand lowers from my waist, feeling its way down into the space in my jeans just above my round behind.  His fingers tease at first, stopping just a moment before he’s inside my panties and grabs a handful of my ample backside. 

He’s waiting for my reaction.  I kiss him harder, feeling the tingle of my skin under his fingers.  He answers my kiss by plunging his hand even lower inside the back of my pants

“Oh God.”  He breaks our kiss as his hand envelops me under my jeans.  “You feel so good.”

There is no denying the distinctive tingle between my legs, fighting to break free.  I press my thighs together, waiting for the tension to unfold, forcing it, wanting it. But he stops, pulls his hand away and sits back.

I look up, my breath coming in pants, and Chad lifts an eyebrow. He looks like a lion staring down a lamb.

My survival instincts kick in. “I should go in I guess.” My voice is a scratchy whisper. 

The image of Leander when he slipped his hand down the back of my pants flashes in front of me. The memory of that humiliation creeping up my spine like a hundred spiders.

Just when I tense my thighs to stand, Chad’s hand is around the back of my neck, his lips at the shell of my ear and I freeze at the warmth of his breath.  “No, you’re not going.  You’re coming with me.”  His voice is throaty.  The words barely controlled with a veiled harshness that hints at his own need. 

He’s not asking, he’s telling and it stirs something inside me that longs to give him control.

I don’t want to be in control right now. 

He tugs me upward by the hand and I follow behind him even as my brain is still tossing up hurdles and question marks.

We half run, half trip on each other toward the small white cabin by the edge of the soybean field.  The cabins are a good bit apart, close enough if you needed some help but far enough apart for privacy.

When we reach the front door, Chad stops, turns and runs a hand down my hair, his eyes evaporating any resistance I could have mustered.

“I need a minute.  Do not move from this spot.”  Another order and I’m okay with that.

All I can do is nod. Words fail me and I’m lucky my heart and lungs function without any conscious thought.

The darkness inside the rustic cabin windows is replaced with a warm flickering. 
Candles
.  He’s lighting candles.

For me.

Is this real?

Chad’s silhouetted in the golden light when he emerges and takes me into his long arms. Without a word his lips are on mine.  His hands slip under my shirt, thumbs raising the tank top underneath and pressing against the warm flesh of my back.  I gasp at the full contact against my skin.  His hands touch me like he is entitled to me.  Without question or reservation.

My hands mimic his, I press up over his leather belt, tugging up his shirt and resting my hands on the hard, smooth flesh of his back.

He’s thick and strong, solid and steady.  I feel the tension in him, yet his countenance is unwavering, he’s in charge without having to say a word.

“You make me so hard, Rachel.  It fucking hurts.  You’re the only cure for that pain,” Chad moans, and my hands take in his warmth. 

I can’t help myself; I run my fingers up the ridges of his spine and back down, feeling his ribs, the way each muscle is hard and separate from the next.  I explore him like I’m reading braille, my fingertips taking in every contour of every muscle. I stop myself just above the waist to his jeans.

He’s breathing harder as I move, shifting his body and rubbing the steel length inside his jeans into my belly.

He wants me.  That single thought is more addicting that any drug.  And it’s him – I’ve never felt wanting like this.  The need for someone. 

Holding me tight, he spins me around, and rushes me into the cabin. With the tip of his boot he slams the door behind us, and now I’m helpless, needy and ready.

Pushed up against the wall I realize the sheer size of him.  I’m like a doll, while he’s high, broad and thick, and I realize even if I wanted to pull away, I couldn't unless he allowed it.

My head and body buzz, smelling fire and lust on him. But there’s more, too, it’s just unidentifiable. Some scent that men have been using on women since the beginning of time, turning their bodies limp and their minds to mush.

This incredibly sexy cowboy wants me and the dull throb between my legs is now a hopeless banging need.

My doubts linger at the edges of the moment. Can I ever give all of myself to someone else? My insecurities have been with me so long; they know how to get my attention. Desire, and the feeling of being desired, only serve to feed them, bringing them to life.  I pull my hands out from under his shirt, pull my lips away from his.  My anxiety takes hold, clutching at me.  Choking the air from my lungs, pulling me from the moment, and I’m helpless against it. All I can do is wait for it to rake its cold claws into my familiar soft places.

“Are you okay?  What’s wrong?”  The deep concern in his voice only makes me want him more.  I see panic flood his blue eyes along with a great deal of restraint.  His brow furrows waiting for something from me.

“Last night.  I thought that was just, I don’t know, a mistake, then that girl pulled up.  And I knew it was a mistake.”  My heart is on staccato, the anxiety taking hold as panic floods over me.

He huffs out a breath and tightens his hands on my back, curving me forward into him away from the wall.  The outline of a hard erection is pushing into my belly and my head swirls and spins.  I want to see it.  No, I want to feel it with all my parts, I do, more than I’ve wanted Christmas morning to come. 

“She’s like a sister.  Here.”  He releases my waist and I’m standing on my own trying to maintain my balance.  When we lose contact, I feel cold and it makes me shiver. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and taps in his password, scrolling and tapping again. Then he holds it up for me.  “This is her.”  He nods waiting for my agreement as he faces the screen my way, then pulls up text messages from
Courtney
.

“Here, take my phone.  Look through every text, every picture, email.  This is her, Courtney, she’s my friend, Roger’s sister. Nothing more. Look at everything in there. I live the life of a monk, little Dove. Or I have, until now.”

CHAD

I
love that she’s looking through my texts. My pictures.  Perusing everything in my phone making herself feel safe.

She walks over and sits at one of the wooden chairs next to the small kitchen table staring down at the small screen in her hands.  I don’t want her to take my word for it. I want her to know she can trust me.

Well, as much as you can trust a guy you’ve known only twenty-four hours.

I lift the hat from my head and hang it on the hook next to the door as I move her way.

The cabin’s not spacious, but I’ve discovered I don’t need much as far as space is concerned.  Or things for that matter.  When I left Oklahoma, I packed two duffle bags and left everything else behind.  Any furniture I’d picked up I left to St. Mary’s women’s shelter along with any other household stuff I’d gathered in my small place at the ranch in Oklahoma. 

It never felt like home.  And I’m starting to realize that it is people that give you that feeling, not a place nor things.  I’ve been in this little cabin just a few hours today, and already it is feeling pretty fucking homey with her ass sitting in a chair at the kitchen table.

Goddamn, that looks more heavenly sitting there than any wide-sky sunrise I’ve ever seen.

I lower myself into the chair next to her, scoot it around so we are facing each other and rest one hand on her knee. I have to be touching her all the fucking time.  I have no other choice.

The look of investigative curiosity she had when she first began to scroll through my phone is gone.  Her features soften, content and every movement of her fingers, her cheeks, the blink of her eyes feels like déjà vu.  A dream I didn’t remember until just now. 

Every move she makes also turns my thoughts to every dirty thing I want to do with her and I think my dick is organizing a coup to get out of my pants and inside of her juicy cunt in any way he can.

“Well, I guess you’re in the clear.”  She hands my phone back as my thoughts are on what would be the fastest way to get her naked. 

“That’s good to know.”  I retrieve the phone from her offering hand and turn it off, then shove it out of the way across the table. There aren’t going to be any interruptions.

“But.” She squints at me then looks back toward the phone, sending my heart racing wondering what she could be looking at.  “If I was going to be worried, I’d be worried about the hundred or so pictures you have of
that horse
.”

“Arabelle.”  I chuckle. “Before you, she was my number one girl.” I raise an eyebrow and smile.

As much as I am completely gone over this girl, I hesitate.  She’s stunning.  But more than that, she’s kind and genuine, works hard around here and has a quirky sense of humor.  She is a natural beauty with sad eyes and I want to know why.

“Can I ask you something?”  The words tumble out before I can stop them. 

My hands are on both her knees as I hook the toe of my boot under the front leg of the chair, scooting it forward so that I can surround her legs with mine.

She bites her lip. “Sure.” 

There is insecurity in her eyes and I can’t imagine who or what put it there, but I make a note that it will be one of my many new missions in life to erase that bullshit from her mind.

“I know what I want.” I let the words hang in the tense air as I tighten my legs around her and gather her hands in mine. They’re soft and warm, and I catch her scent as I lean forward, finding her eyes with mine. “But, I want to be sure that you’re sure. You liked last night, right?  Because that was not just some fling in the bed of a pickup for me.” 

She licks her lips and pulls her shoulders to her ears.  “Yeah.  I liked it.”  The blush rises on her cheeks and pools in glowing pink down her neck and onto her chest.

“Good.  More than good. Great, in fact.”  God, I sound like a twelve-year-old asking his first girl to the school dance.  “I want more. And by more, I don’t just mean sex. I want it all. Trust me, if my hard-on is any indication, I’ve never wanted someone like I want you.  But, listen—”
get your shit together, Butler
“—I want something from you, and once we pass go, it’s going to be damn hard for me to stop, so I just want you to know you can back out now. No harm, no foul. Get out of jail free. But you’re making my heart beat in ways I didn’t know before last night, so just tell me now, please, if you want to just play cards or braid each other’s hair, maybe tell some scary stories tell me now.  Because if I get my lips on you again, it’s all or nothing.  Do you know what I’m saying, Rachel?”

She pulls a hand from mine and covers her mouth. I’m not sure if she’s hiding a smile or ready to throw up, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat hoping I haven’t scared the shit out of her with my monologue.

Her chest rises and falls three times and I can’t manage to take a single breath of my own before she lowers her hand back to mine and answers.

“I get what you are saying and I don’t really like to play cards. And I don’t’ think you’d look good in braids and if you tell me a scary story, I’ll have nightmares.  So, I’d like to go with whatever other option you have in mind.”  She nibbles on her bottom lip and I hold back a pathetic whimper.