At the Cowboy's Mercy (14 page)

He stretched for the bedside drawer and grabbed a condom, clenching it in his hand as she dragged his jeans off, then stood and stripped. She stood just out of reach, and curved her hands beneath her breasts, lifting them and watching his mouth drop open, his eyes go unfocused.
 

"Will you suck my nipples, Luke?" Just saying the words sent another flood of wetness to her pussy, but his reaction--God, she needed him in her now.
 

He snaked an arm around her waist and drew her close, rising to clamp his lips over her nipple, his tongue flicking, his mouth drawing.

"So good," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. "So good. The other one."

He released her nipple and nuzzled her other breast, scraping his stubble over the tender skin before soothing it with a soft kiss, tender licks, and a bite that had her arching, pressing her pussy against his stomach. She rubbed against him, needing to ease the ache.
 

"Again. God, again, Luke."

"What again?"

"Bite me. Please please please."

Contrary man that he was, he placed gentle kisses along the slope of her breast, his fingers trailing down her back to the cleft of her ass, following it to her entrance.

"So wet," he said against her skin. "So fucking sexy." And he plunged his fingers into her at the same time he closed his teeth over her nipple.

The orgasm ripped through her, her muscles squeezing his fingers, her hand tangling in his hair, pleasure shooting through her with the intensity of a bullet train. He didn't let her finish coming, but withdrew his fingers and lay back on the bed, inviting her over him. Shaking, she coasted her touch over his sheathed cock and guided him to her.

Ah, yes, deeper, thicker than his fingers, filling her. She adjusted to him, then began to move, sliding up and down, feeling every ridge, every vein caress her channel. God, she was so slick, so hungry to finish the orgasm and repeat it. He held himself on his elbows and watched her, not touching her, letting her be in charge. So she tried different rhythms, different angles, circling her hips, bobbing them, grinding down on his cock.
 

Oh, yes, that. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, and did it again, taking him as deep as she could. She picked up the pace, fucking him harder and faster, needing to feel his dick deep, needing to feel his groin slap against her clit.

"What do you want?" he asked roughly.

"I want to come. I want to come with you deep inside me."

"Take me in," he ordered, and she did, shifting to bring him as deep as she could.

He stroked his fingertips up her thigh and over her swollen clit. This time the orgasm rolled through her in slow motion so that she could feel her channel ripple up and down the length of him, so that she could feel his own orgasm pulse from him as she came.

Even in her mindless state, she remembered not to lay on his chest, instead flopping to the bed beside him. She rested her hand lightly over his furred chest.
 

"Did it hurt?"

He shook his head, disposed of the condom in the trashcan by the bed, and stretched out beside her, facing her.
 

Only a moment passed before he reached up, stroked her hair back from her face and said, "So tell me why you're here."

Her body was still humming from feeling him inside her. She wasn't ready to have this conversation, especially when she didn't know what would come of it. She reached beneath her and pulled the covers loose--she loved that he made the bed--and wriggled beneath them.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Cold?"

Vulnerable, was more like. She didn't know how he'd react to the news that she was financially independent. Would he send her on her way? She kept thinking of the swing he'd made for her, and hoped the answer was no, but she couldn't be sure. And that was why she was here. "I wanted to see you ride."

"You've seen me ride."

She ignored the comment. "I missed you and needed to talk to you."

He went perfectly still beside her. "Are you pregnant?"

"What? God, no." She may as well just tell him before he gave them both a heart attack. She sat up and tucked the sheets around her. "A few days after you left, my father's lawyer showed up."

He sat slowly, too, not bothering to cover himself. "I didn't know your father had a lawyer."

"Well, not like a personal one, but the one in charge of his will. Turns out they found some money of my mother's that she set aside for me, so I'm not as broke as I thought."

Again he went still, his gaze focused on her face. "How not broke are you?"

"Oh, I'm by no means wealthy. But I'll be able to pay you back."

"Pay me back for what?" His voice held a hint of temper.

She pushed her hair back, so tired of being on unequal footing with him. "For taking me in, for feeding me, for getting me a job and the car."

"You think I did that expecting you to pay me back?"

"I know--" She had to tread lightly here. That Delaney pride was big. "I know you're using all your money for your house--"

"And that house would be nowhere near the shape it's in now if not for you."

"There's that, too. I know it wasn't your priority."

"That's not what I mean. I don't want your money." He moved to the edge of the mattress and untangled his boxers from his jeans.
 

"I can't go on without giving you the money. I hate how lopsided things have been between us, and I'm thinking if I even things up, money-wise, then we can start over."

He glared over his shoulder at her. "Why start over? I like where we are now."

"I do, too, but I'll always wonder."

His eyebrows slammed together. "Wonder what?"

"Wonder why we're together. Is it just because I showed up and was convenient? Did you sleep with me because--" She broke off, but it was too late.
 

His gaze sharpened. "You think I'm fucking you in payment for letting you live in my house?"

Her stomach felt like rocks had taken up residence. She wasn't trying to insult him, but she had to make him understand her need here. "It just--it's that I don't have any power in our relationship. You have it all, the car, the house, the money. I'm like a housewife from the Fifties. I want us to be on even ground or--"

"Or what?"

She waved her hand aimlessly. "Or it's not going to work."

"I'm not taking your money, Kennedy."

"Then you're a selfish ass."

He lifted his eyebrows. "For
not
taking your money?"

"For not understanding why I need to give it to you."

"I understand. You think you're prostituting yourself. I think that's insulting, to think I'd want to sleep with you in payment."

"Can you just try to see it from my side?"

"Can you try to see it from mine?"

She bent to pick up her clothes from the floor. "I'm going back to Gonzales."
 

"Not tonight, you aren't."
           

"Why not?"

"It's late already. I don't want you getting to the house so late."

Jesus, he was frustrating. She knew he cared about her. Why couldn't he see how important this was to her? "Fine. Then I'm sleeping on the couch."

He blew out a breath through his nose. "I'll sleep on the couch."

She bounced off the bed and held out a hand to him. "God, Luke, no. Don't you see? I'm tired of you being the one who gives all the time and me being the one who takes. I'll sleep on the couch."

She stormed the few steps to the other room. But she didn't sleep, not for a long time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She woke up the next morning, eyes gummy from crying herself to sleep, to see sunlight streaming through the window over the couch, and Luke sitting at the dinette, watching her. She rubbed at her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows.
 

"What?" she asked.

"I can't take your money and here's why. I'm in no better shape than your father was."

Her stomach clenched. As far as she'd seen, Luke was very careful with his money. His only indulgence, that she'd seen, was her.

"If I'd really hurt myself last night, broken my ribs or my collarbone or my leg, if I was out of the game for awhile, I'd be in bad shape. Yes, the land is paid for but there are still taxes that will be going up as I make improvements. The truck and RV are paid for but not gas or utilities or food. I don't bet, but I gamble every time I get on a horse. If something happens that gets me out of the game, you're back where you started. At least if you have your money, you can be independent. You don't have to worry what happens to me. If you want to go back to Dallas--"

She rose to her knees and reached across to put her fingers on his lips. "If I wanted to go back to Dallas, I would have told you that before you brought me back here. I don't want to go back to Dallas. I want to go back to Gonzales and work in the diner and live on the farm. I want to watch sunsets from my swing and dip my toes in the creek. I want to watch you ride when I can and wait for you to come home when I can't. But I need to know, I need to be sure, you're not keeping me around out of pity."

"Pity?" He shifted to sit on the edge of the couch. "Kennedy, I've loved you since I was eighteen years old."

The words slammed into her hard enough to steal her breath. This must have been what he felt last night when he hit the shoulder of that steer. Before she could recover, he continued.
 

"I never said or did anything out of respect for Red, then you and Liam--"

Her face heated. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"I saw you together one night."

He didn't say anything else, but the way he was looking at her let her know she'd hurt him by choosing his brother that first time.

"I figure that's why you came to me first for help? And not him?"

She nodded, holding her breath, waiting to see what he'd say next. But he left the subject of Liam behind.

"I was so mad at you, first for moving to Dallas and breaking Red's heart, then for not letting me know how sick he was. But the last couple of months..." He lowered his gaze, shaking his head. "I miss you when you're not around, and I want to tell you things and eat with you and sleep with you and make love with you."
 

"You love me?"
 

"For years."

She folded her arms around his neck and leaned forward. "I was afraid you'd freak out if I said I loved you."

He arched his brows. "Not just taking pity on me?"

"Never." She leaned in for a soft kiss. "Now, let's collect your winnings and go home. We have plans to make."

THE END
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Emma Jay has been writing longer than she'd care to admit, using her endless string of celebrity crushes as inspiration for her heroes. She discovered her husband has way more tolerance for screensavers and hunk-decorated blog posts when she calls them her "heroes." Emma, married 25 years (wed at the age of 8, of course) believes writing romance is like falling in love, over and over again. Creating characters and love stories is an addiction she has no intention of breaking.

You can find Emma online at
www.emmajayromance.com
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and on Twitter at @emmajayromance.

Her other books include In the Marshal's Arms, Wild Wild Widow, Eye of the Beholder, Her Perfect Getaway and Off Limits.