A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss (7 page)

She patted his shoulder. "You're a worse patient than the Rottweiler I had this morning. Now shut up and be good, or I'll have to muzzle you."

"Vet humor," he muttered, barely hiding his grin. He was too cranky to laugh, but damned if she didn't make him want to do it anyway. With a melodramatic grimace, he dragged his shirt out of his jeans and pulled it up. He knew there were bandages on it, so she wouldn't be able to see that it was a knife wound.

She leaned forward, apparently inspecting his side. She said nothing, and he was just starting to relax, when he felt her hand on his side. He was so surprised by the touch that he jumped sideways.

"It's okay," she said softly. "I won't hurt you. I'm just looking."

Her voice was soft and gentle, just like she probably used on her animals, but it worked. He felt the tension ease from his body, and he went still, his entire being focused on the next touch. This time, when her palm flattened against his side, he was ready for it. He couldn't believe how warm her skin was, or how soft. He closed his eyes, drinking in her touch, absorbing every nuance of what it felt like. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything so surreal, and so perfect. He bowed his head, his gloved hands digging into the prickly hay, tracking the movement of her fingers down his shoulder blade, along the bandage, and along his waist.

She spread her palm against his ribs, as if she were trying to hold his heart inside his body. It felt good…no, amazing…no, incredible.

"Steen?"

"Yeah." He wanted to tell her not to stop, but he had no words. The sensations had gone way beyond naughty things and disrobing. Her touch was searing deep into his soul, making parts of him respond that had nothing to do with his cock.

"The bandage is pretty soiled. You're bleeding through it. The skin around it isn't hot yet, so I don't think it's infected, but it's going to be if you don't get it cleaned." She moved her hand along the edge of the bandage again, a gentle touch that somehow seemed to strip the tension from his body. "You need to go to the doctor and have it checked."

"You do it." The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought them, but the moment he said it, he knew it was what he wanted. "No doctor." He couldn't go back inside closed walls again, not yet. A hospital was like a prison, with locks on the doors and doctors who told you what should be done with your body. They'd ask him questions, and then it would go in his file that he was an ex-con with a stab wound. He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be that guy, not anymore, not again. "You," he said again.

"Me?" She dropped her hand from his side. "I'm a vet."

He looked over at her. "Please."

She met his gaze, and he saw something in her eyes soften. Somehow, she'd understood the depth of his need without him having to explain it. "Okay, but don't complain if you wind up with fur and a tail by the time I'm finished."

Relief rushed over him. "Deal. Do you have time to do it now?"

"I have all afternoon, since we're not deworming." She stood up. "Wait right here. I'll get some supplies from Faith. Whatever you did to her worked. She's been rocking along perfectly."

"No problem." He stood up as she rose to her feet. She was less than a foot from him, and suddenly the air between them became heated and thick. Silence fell, and he felt that same urge overcome him, the need to touch her, taste her, and drink her into his soul.

Slowly, he pulled off one of his gloves and brushed his fingers over a loose tendril of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. He expected her to pull away, but she didn't. She sucked in her breath, but didn't retreat.

He rubbed the strands between his fingers. "So soft," he said. "I always wondered."

"You did?"

"Yeah." He met her gaze. "But now, it's a different kind of curiosity."

She swallowed. "Because I'm not fourteen."

"Because neither of us are teenagers." He opened his hand and slid all his fingers through her ponytail, watching the strands slide over his skin. He couldn't believe how soft it was, and he was mesmerized by the sensation of the strands against his skin. "I forgot that things this perfect existed."

"No. Don't say that," she protested, her body suddenly tensing. "I'm not perfect. I'm so tired of trying to be. Please, of anyone in the world to say that, don't let it be you."

The edge to her voice caught his attention, and his gaze moved from her hair to her eyes. This time, for the first time, he saw pain he hadn't seen before. Not physical pain. The kind of pain that etched itself deep in one's soul and never went away. He knew that kind of pain, because he lived with it every day. The realization that she carried that same kind of burden made his fingers curl more tightly in her hair. Suddenly, she wasn't the brilliant, rich girl who would always outclass him. She was a woman who carried the same burdens that he did. She was the same as he was, which made her reachable, touchable, and accessible.

His fingers tightened in her hair, and he tugged gently, needing more. "Is there a Mr. Erin back home waiting for you?"

Again, a flash of pain, but she shook her head. "Just me."

There were a thousand more questions he wanted to ask, and a thousand reasons to walk away, but he did neither of those things. Instead, he stripped off his other glove, and then did what he wanted to do most of all: he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Erin's heart hammered in her chest the moment she realized Steen was about to kiss her. Dear God, after all these years? It was really going to happen? She started to panic, but his fingers tightened in her hair, drawing her closer to him as he bent his head, trapping her.

His grip was so warm and gentle that all her fear fled, and she lifted her face to his. He closed the distance between them, and he kissed her, a true, perfect, real kiss that was so much more than anything she'd ever imagined. The moment his lips touched hers, all the years of fantasy dissipated, and all that was left was the reality of who he was, of this moment, and the feel of his lips on hers.

His mouth was decadently soft as he lightly kissed her, a touch so gentle that she was almost afraid she'd imagined it. It was beautiful and sensual, a caress so tender it belied the tough, arrogant attitude he worked so hard to convey. How could this rough cowboy possibly deliver a kiss so sensual and beautiful that it made her heart come alive? But he did.

Steen paused, his lips hovering over hers, as if giving them both the chance to back away.

She didn't retreat, and neither did he. Time hung in suspended animation as she waited, her entire soul yearning for more. Would he kiss her again? Or had this moment been all there would be? For a split second, she considered pulling away, not wanting to be the one who was rejected, but before she could do so, he kissed her again, his lips feathering over hers in the softest of kisses, like a butterfly that had just spread its wings for the first time.

He kissed one corner of her mouth.

And then the other.

It was the sweetest, purest, most innocent kiss of her life. It made her feel treasured and respected, as if she were an angel held in the palm of her guardian, protected against every negative moment in the world. It wasn't the kiss of a man who saw her only as breasts and a way to get off. It was the kiss of her knight, her salvation, a man who had declared himself her savior through one simple kiss.

Hope leapt through her as Steen kissed her again, hope that there was still beauty left in her, hope that there was still something magical in her world. Instinctively, she reached out and wrapped her fingers in the rough cotton of his shirt. She needed to touch him, to ground herself in his strength, to hold him close.

He pulled back slightly, not far, but enough that she could see into his eyes when she opened hers. His dark eyes searched hers, as if he was looking for the answers in her soul. Then he smiled as he lightly brushed her hair back from her forehead. "Erin Chambers," he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

It sounded so amazing to hear him say her name, and she smiled. "Yes?"

"You need to say no." His eyes darkened, and his expression became more intense. "You need to let go of my shirt, step back, and tell me that I'm not good enough for you. You need to do it right now, or I'm going to think I deserve this, and I'm going to kiss you again."

Her heart ached at his words, at the loss of arrogance he'd once carried with such pride. "I want you to kiss me again," she whispered. "I don't want to let you go."

He took a deep breath that mingled with a groan, then his hands came to her cheeks, his palms cradling her face as if she were a fragile crystal that could shatter at any moment. "Don't say that," he said. "I can't do this to you."

"Do what?" Kiss her? Make her feel like she mattered? Treat her like she was the most precious treasure he'd ever encountered?

"Drag you into my world." He traced his thumbs over her cheeks, a touch so soft and tender it made her entire soul burn for more. "It's such a bad place, where I live," he said, his voice low and rough. "I don't want you in it, and I don't want you to see it."

She knew he wasn't talking about his house, and her heart bled a little bit for whatever tragic lessons life had taught him since she'd last seen him. "I don't care." She tugged on his shirt to drag him closer, stood on her tiptoes, and then kissed him.

For a brief moment, one that felt like an eternity, he didn't respond at all. Embarrassment flooded her. Had she completely misread his reluctance? Had he actually
meant
it when he'd said he didn't want to kiss her again? Horrified, she started to pull back, but before she could retreat, he palmed the back of her head, cutting off her retreat, and then he kissed her the way she'd always dreamed of.

It wasn't chaste and sweet this time. There was nothing pure or innocent about it. This time, his kiss was searing passion and insatiable want, poured into an erotic temptation of tongues, lips, and need. His mouth tasted like sinful seduction, and his kiss was demanding and deep. He plunged past all her inhibitions and defenses, coaxing her into a tangle of tongues so intense she felt every nerve ending in her body ignite.

She released his shirt and slipped her arms around his neck. The moment her hands were no longer between them as a barrier, Steen wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against him. His torso was rock hard against her, a tower of strength and heat. Her breasts were tight against his chest, and her nipples became hard instantly, almost aching with need. He locked one arm around her waist, and his other hand slid beneath her shirt over her lower back. He traced her spine upwards, and then palmed her back between her shoulder blades, pressing her even more tightly against him.

The feel of his hand on her bare skin was incredible. Hot, rough, and demanding. His fingers kept catching on her bra, and she found herself desperate for him to find the clasp and unfasten it. She wanted his hands on her breasts, and his mouth on her nipples. She wanted every part of this incredible man to become hers. With him, maybe she could be the woman she'd never managed to be, the woman who was sexy enough to keep her man's interest—

Sudden memories flashed through her mind, dozens of incidents of embarrassment and failure, as a woman and as a lover. What would Steen do when he realized what she was really like? How fast would he run? Oh, God, no. She couldn't do that. She couldn't live through a rejection by Steen. She could handle being dismissed by anyone except him, because he was the light that had kept her going all these years.

Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled back, stepping out of his embrace. "I can't do this."

"What?" He stared at her, his eyes so dark and turbulent that she wanted to throw herself back in his arms and pretend she wasn't who she was. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just—" She tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing she could be any place but in that barn with Steen. What had she been thinking by kissing him? Fantasies were better left as fantasies. She could never deliver on the intensity of what was sizzling between them. "I just remembered another appointment. That's all."

"Another appointment?" His eyes darkened, and he walked over to her, closing the distance she'd just managed to put between them. He caught her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "Don't lie to me, Erin. I can take it from anyone else, but not from you."

She saw the plea in his eyes, and the confusion, and her heart seemed to shatter. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just a mess. I just got out of a really terrible marriage, and I...I haven't been kissed in a really long time, let alone done anything more. It's just...I know you're..." She bit her lip, wanting to hit him for not looking away and giving her space. "God, Steen! You've been with so many women, and you're this great expert, and I just... I'm just extremely insecure when it comes to sex, and especially with you." She rolled her eyes and pulled away. "God, how could I even go there with you?" She started to walk away, then spun back to face him. "You've been my source of hope and strength for all these years. In my fantasies, I'm good enough for you. I don't want that shredded by reality. I couldn't take it if you rejected me, too." She gestured back and forth between them, trying to articulate what she was feeling for him. "This thing between us is amazing. I'm shocked that you've been thinking of me all this time, like how I've been thinking of you, but don't you get it? If we tried to make it real, then it disappears. We both lose what little hope it gave us."

He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Erin, you've got it so wrong—"

"No, I don't." She held up her hand. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Kissing you was amazing and incredible, but we're going to leave it like that, okay? I'm going to go get my supplies and fix your bandage, and then I'm going to leave, okay? Okay. Great. Fine." She flung up her hands and stalked out, not waiting for his response.