At the Cowboy's Mercy (7 page)

"It's stable. I worked on that this weekend, and getting the plumbing going."

The screen door dragged against the porch when she opened it, and he stepped forward with the keys, swinging the door inward. The musty smell that came from disuse hit her as she stepped into the entryway. Even with the warming trend, the house held the chill of winter, and she shivered in her t-shirt.
 

To her right was the living room with a big window looking out onto the giant oak in the middle of the yard, and to her left was the dining room--at least she supposed it was. There was no furniture in the house that she could see, though he'd promised her a bed.
 

"Kitchen's through there," he said. "Running water and electricity, but it's a mess, and I don't have appliances." Which was why they'd stopped for sandwich supplies and packed them in the cooler. "Bedrooms are down that hall and to the left. Only one bathroom is working and I cleaned it the best I could."

She turned into the dining room to walk through the empty kitchen--also with big windows, which made the place bright and happy despite its disrepair. There was a door leading outside on one end of the room, and a door leading to the hallway at the other. She followed the hallway down the longer part of the L. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms lined it, but only one bedroom had a bed, a big one, with a wrought iron headboard that looked old, the white paint peeling, though the bed itself was neatly made with a quilt and big pillows, inviting. Her nipples pebbled just thinking about being in it with Luke.
 

"You like it?" he asked, suddenly too close.

Not sure if he meant the bed or the house in general, she turned to face him. "You have your work cut out for you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Do I?"

So he meant the bed. She took a step back, unsure what to say, and he followed. Suddenly the bright room seemed tiny, and before she knew it, he'd wrapped her in his arms.
 

Would every kiss be different? One seeming to be against his will, one claiming, one gentle, this one possessive, yes, but with an edge of neediness. She'd never thought of Luke as needing anything, least of all her. Feeling powerful, she pressed against him, one arm around his waist, her elbow bumping the butt of the gun he'd attached to his belt. A thrill went through her, which was ridiculous, since she'd grown up around guns. They were just one more tool a rancher needed. But she'd seen him shoot and he was damned sexy when he did it. Her panties grew damp at the mental picture and she rubbed against him, curling her hand around the back of his neck, feeling his erection rise between them.
 

She matched his tongue stroke for stroke, savored the movement of his lips against hers, the rasp of his stubble. She started to lower herself to the bed, but he tightened his grip on her for a moment before he lifted his head with a sigh.
 

"Later." He brushed his thumb over her nipple before he stepped back. "There's more to see."

Her body hummed with frustration. He'd started that, hadn't he? Only to call an end to it? Okay, maybe she shouldn't think that just because they were alone and there was a bed that it would be sex all the time. Luke was a driven man. He probably wanted to get some work done. And he'd wanted her with him, so that should make her feel good, right?He didn't just see her as an outlet for sex.

What would make her feel good right now was an orgasm, or at least more excellent kissing. If she was brave, she'd grab him back to her and demand just that. Instead, she followed him out the third door that led from the end of the hall to the patio.
 

"Mind if we take the tractor on the tour?"

She frowned. "Where will I sit?"

"On my lap."

The glint in his eye made her stomach pitch. "I can't ride on your lap on a tractor. I'm too tall. Too heavy."
 

He cupped his hand over one ass cheek. "Just right." He slapped the other cheek playfully as he walked past her toward the barn.
 

She followed, picking her step carefully behind him. He had the gun, he could shoot any snakes.
 

The barn wasn't in as good of shape as the house, the wood sagging on the frame. She glanced back at the house to compare the roof, but the house had a shiny tin roof, the kind that was supposed to last forever. The barn's needed help. How could he do all this himself, and still ride the rodeo circuit?

The sight of a big green tractor surprised her when he got the doors open against the weeds that grew against the barn. Green tractors did not come cheap.

"It's secondhand," he replied to her unasked question. "Or possibly third or fourth hand. I got a good deal."
 

He hefted himself up on the seat and twisted the key. The tractor sputtered to life as if under protest. Despite the racket the engine was making, Luke grinned at her like a kid. He was so different out here, so relaxed. So at home.

He reached a hand to her. She hesitated, gauging the distance between his lap and the wheel, the width of the seat, then put her hand in his. He guided her to his thigh, angling her knees between his legs. The vibrations were either going to make it very interesting or very uncomfortable.

"Put your arm around my neck," he murmured, and shifted into gear.
 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Luke drove the tractor along the bank of the stream with the mower down, sending weeds flying into the water, where they were quickly washed away, then turned the tractor off. Before he could suggest they stretch their legs, she'd jumped off his lap and climbed down the tractor. He moved slower, his leg tingling as the circulation returned. Maybe not his best idea, but he'd liked having her arm around his neck, her hair whipping in his face. And she smelled so damned good. He watched her rub her ass as she walked down to the water and reasoned it hadn't been too comfortable for her, either, but she hadn't complained. He opened his mouth to warn her about snakes, but she was being careful on her own. The smell of diesel dissipated on the breeze as he stood on the running board.

"It's so clear," she said, and dipped down to stick her fingers in the running water. "And cold!" She folded her hand against her belly to warm it. "Does it lead to a stock tank?"

He inclined his head down the hill. "Just over there. When I bought the place, it was damn near dry, just a mud puddle. The rains this winter have built it up again, but that was a damned scary sight."

"Yet you bought it anyway."

He lifted a shoulder. "It was cheap."

She lowered herself to the freshly mown bank and lifted her face toward the sun. Times like these, he forgot their past, forgot he was supposed to be mad at her. Hell, if he was really mad at her, would he have brought her out here, wasted two good days working inside the house instead of repairing the fences like he'd planned? He didn't want to linger on his motivation where she was concerned.

"So are you going to quit riding and be a gentleman rancher?"

He snorted and sat beside her, legs folded, arms draped over his knees. "I want to earn the money while I can. This place won't pay for itself for a long time." It was a terrifying thought, actually. He'd gotten a good deal on it because of the drought, depleted his savings almost to nothing, but it was paid for. His truck and RV were free and clear, and the tractor. But the place needed repairs and he needed livestock to pay for it. He didn't mind living out of his trailer while he fixed the place up, but he needed a source of income.

"You could get Liam to go in with you. He looks like he's doing all right."

Luke snorted. "He spends money before he makes it. He gets hurt, he's screwed."

She plucked a blade of Johnson grass that the mower had missed and twirled it between her fingers. "You could find a rich wife."

He chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe one who lets me say 'tits.'"

She wrinkled her nose. "Good luck with that."

When she started to get up, he pinned her to the ground, his hands on either side of her hips. "Maybe one who likes sex on the bank of the creek."

She looked at him through her lashes, a teasing smile on her lips. "Maybe if you hadn't scared someone to death with talk of snakes, you might not need a wife for that."

He shifted so his hips were between her knees, and pressed forward until his fly was against her pussy. "I have my gun."

Her breathing hitched, and he took advantage of her indecision to kiss her, long and deep, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, savoring the taste of her. She responded as she always did, fast and eager, and he rubbed his growing dick against the seam of her jeans, making her moan. He pinched her nipple through her shirt, and she ground her hips up against him.
 

But the stubble of the newly mown area bit into his palm, and he didn't want to mar her soft skin by screwing her here. Instead, he pulled back, kneeling between her legs and reached a hand to her. She blinked.
 

"What?"

"Ground's too rough."

She didn't say anything, only put her hand in his and let him haul her to her feet. She leaned into him a moment and lifted her face to his. He kissed her softly, then turned her and shoved her gently up the bank. With a swing in her hips, she led the way to the tractor. She waited by a rear tire for him to get situated, then stepped up on the running board, then the floorboard, and swung a leg across his hips, so she sat facing him, her breasts against his chest, her pussy riding his fly.

"Turn it on," she murmured.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Turn it on, or you on?"

"Yes," was all she said.

He reached around her and twisted the key in the ignition and--holy hell. The vibrations were magical, pushing his hard dick against her. Her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back, her breath escaping in a soft sigh. He captured her breasts briefly, feeling her nipples stab his palms through the thin fabric of her bra, before he slid his fingertips beneath the waistband of her jeans.
 

She shifted forward, denying his touch, and a moan escaped her lips. All right, then. She wanted to come with his cock against her.
 

"Drive," she urged.

"How am I supposed to see where I'm going?"

She lowered her head to his shoulder, as if that was an answer.
 

"I want to see your face when you come." Jesus, he wanted to whip out his dick right now and shove it in her, but he hadn't brought condoms.
 

"So close," she whimpered against his neck. "Drive."

He reached for the gear and shifted blindly, looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't run into a damned tree or something. She didn't wriggle on him. No, she seemed content to let the tractor do all the work. The tractor and his aching dick. She owed him something good after this.

The road was rutted, and the first bump dislodged her. She righted herself, her legs tight about his hips, and when he hit the next bump, he felt her come. Her hips rolled forward, determined to keep contact, as the rest of her body started moving in boneless waves, her breath uneven against his throat.

He gripped her ponytail and pulled her head back so he could watch the play of pleasure across her face, then he reached between them to unbuckle his belt, ready to stroke one out right there. God, his balls ached.
 

The beep of a horn behind him had him gripping the wheel with both hands and taking his foot off the gas. But the truck that honked was on the other side of the fence, his neighbors tooting a hello. Kennedy burrowed her face deeper into his shoulder.

"God, do you think they saw me? That they know what I was doing?"

Luke had caught the thumbs up sign from the passenger which let him know they knew exactly what she'd been doing. But he rubbed her lower back. "No, sweetheart."

The urgency to get back to the house and pound into her had eased, especially when she pulled herself together and decided to stand on the running board instead of sit on his lap. She didn't meet his gaze, which was fine since he needed to keep his attention on their path, anyway.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, swinging off the tractor onto the porch when he slowed.

"Let me mow a bit, then I'll be in," he said, needing to get himself under control. He wasn't sure why he needed to be in control out here, but he hated
not
being in control. And Kennedy was rough on that. So he let her go into the house--she seemed grateful, if the posture of her shoulders was any clue--and he put the tractor in gear.

He wasn't sure how he heard her scream over the puttering engine, but somehow it pierced the low sound. He yanked the brake, killed the motor and bolted for the house, drawing his gun from his holster. Had to be a snake. Had to be.

"Kennedy!" he shouted when he burst through the door, damn near taking the screen off its hinges.
 

"The bedroom," she called back. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry."

He rounded the corner to see her standing outside the bedroom, her hand stretched toward him, placating. He holstered the gun but didn't slow, grabbing her arms when he reached her, needing to make sure she was all right.

"What the hell happened?"

"Unexpected company." She nodded toward the bedroom.

He rested his hand on the gun again, expecting to see a snake or rat or possum. What he saw was the barn cat laying on the foot of the bed, panting heavily.

"I thought she was dying," Kennedy said quietly, following Luke into the bed.

Not dying, no. Having kittens. On his bed. Shit.
 

She'd had two, and both were still in the sack. Christ, had she never had a litter before? Where was her instinct to tear the placenta from around her babies? Pulling his knife, he popped it open, barely aware of Kennedy's gasp of alarm. He sliced both sacks open, the one that was still wriggling first, then the one that wasn't.
 

"Here." Kennedy helped the wriggling kitten out of the sack in front of the mother.