Close Enough to Touch (16 page)

“Absolutely,” he answered, but he wasn’t doing what she wanted.
He was busy running his hands down her back, pressing his mouth to her shoulder.
It felt good, but she
needed
him naked.

“Your boots,” she complained. “Your jeans. Take them off.”

“Okay,” he said, but his hands slid up to cup her breasts. She
moaned at the touch, but pushed him away.

“Naked. Now.”

She shoved her own jeans down to encourage him, and that seemed
to work. He toed off his boots and ditched his jeans, his gaze locked on her
body the whole time. She returned the favor, her eyes devouring him, taking him
in. He was so hard already. Completely ready for her.

As soon as he was naked, he reached out to touch her, but she
pushed his back against the wall.

“I love your body,” she whispered against his collarbone as she
spread her fingers over his chest. The hair on his chest was softer than she’d
expected and feeling it again made her smile against him. And the feel of his
thick cock pressed to her belly. That made her smile, too.

She slipped her hands down his sides and around to his ass. She
pulled him tighter against her and listened to him moan in response. Oh, God,
she loved that. She wanted more of it. More moaning. More loudly. She wanted
gasping and groaning. Hell, she wanted to make him shout with lust. For her.

Grace went to her knees.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathed.

For a moment, she just pressed her cheek to his abdomen. She
held his ass and turned her mouth to his belly. She loved the taste of him. The
scent of his skin. The heat of his flesh against her. There was something about
him. Some chemistry between them. Just the smell of him made her wet.

She wrapped one hand around his cock and dragged her mouth over
that delicious line of muscle that started at his hip.

He gasped and she smiled, trying to decide if she should tease
him or give him what he wanted. But it was what she wanted, too. And if she was
good at anything, it was taking her fair share.

She tightened her hold on him and slowly slid her open lips
over the head of his cock.

“Grace,” he rasped.

She glanced up and found him watching her, eyes narrowed, jaw
flexing between granite and steel.

Grace narrowed her own eyes. “Tell me what you want,” she
challenged, knowing her breath whispered over his wet skin.

“You know what I want.”

“Really?” She let her bottom lip glide over him and she could
taste him, salty and slick against her mouth. “How am I supposed to know what
you want if you won’t tell me?”

“Grace,” he said darkly, the word barely a rumble of sound.

“Mmm?” She kissed him again, with the cruelest whisper of
pressure.

He was silent for a moment and she had to bite back a smile. He
didn’t want to play this game. Well, neither had she, but he’d persuaded her,
finally. And she’d persuade him. She stroked her hand slowly up his shaft and
flicked her tongue out to lick the tiny bead of liquid she’d inspired.
“Mmm.”

“Oh, God,” he moaned. “Please.”

“Please what?”

He took a deep breath and a shudder moved through his body.
“Please…take me in your mouth.”

She laughed a little, but it was mostly shock. Shock that his
words felt like a blow. Like a violent shove of lust that nearly shattered her.
This was a secret she hadn’t known. No wonder he’d pushed her so hard that
night. This was magic, a power over another person’s body, over their voice and
their will and pride.

God.

Grace parted her lips and pressed her open mouth to him. She
let her tongue touch him and heard him suck in a breath at the heat.

As the taste of him spread over her tongue, her heart pounded
hard and the tension between her legs wound tighter. She let him slide over her
tongue until her lips were around the head, and then she sucked at him and heard
him moan. She wanted to laugh again with the sheer joy of it, but she just slid
off and then took him in again, a little deeper this time.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking a little. She teased him
with her tongue, rubbing and sucking, then looked up to flash laughing eyes at
him. He didn’t look amused. “More,” he ordered.

Another push of lust into her veins. He was a big man. Big and
confident and overwhelmingly masculine. And she liked him issuing orders more
than she would’ve expected.

She took more. Her lips stretched over him as his breathing
roughened. She’d never be able to take him all, so she tightened her fist around
the base of his shaft and worked it in time with her mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Like that. God, that feels good. Just
like that.”

She hummed her approval into his cock and worked him in and out
of her mouth. On her knees. Taking more, just as he’d ordered.

“Grace. Jesus. Just…like that. Please.” His hand touched her
head, barely grazing her hair. She knew he wanted to take her now. Twist his
hand into her hair and make her take everything. Strange that she could feel so
powerful in this pose, but she did. She felt like she could make this grown man
weep for her.

She was so turned on. Nearly desperate. She slid her mouth
slowly from him, marveling at how much of him she’d managed to take.

He was panting now, staring down at her, eyes glittering and
dazed.

“Come here,” she whispered.

For a moment, he didn’t seem to understand what she meant. His
gaze was blank, confused. But then he slid down to his knees and kissed her, his
wet cock pressing hard into her belly. She pushed him until he sat down, then
climbed onto his thighs and pushed him to his back.

“Condom?”

“Right. Yeah.” He turned his head and stared at his jeans for a
moment, as if he weren’t quite sure of his movements. But he finally reached out
just as Grace reached for him.

“Christ,” he cursed, as she wrapped a tight fist around his wet
cock. He fumbled with the wrapper as she pumped her hand, thoroughly enjoying
the way his hips jumped up in eagerness.

“Does that feel good?” she asked coyly.

“You know it does, damn it.” The plastic finally tore open, but
he paused to watch her fist slide up and down him.

“What do you want now?” she asked, rising up on her knees to
look down at him.

“You. Please. I want you riding me.”

“Yeah?” She stroked him again and reached for the condom.

“Yeah.” His voice was a little broken now. A little
strained.

She slid the condom on and eased higher on his body. Then,
holding him, she lowered her hips until the tip of him rubbed against her
swollen sex. She sighed in relief and tilted her hips so that he slid over her
clit. “Mmm.”

He watched every movement with eyes that looked like blue
flame. His big hands wrapped over her hips, but he didn’t push her down. Instead
he slipped her back and forth a little, letting her sex slide along the head of
his cock. Now she was the one panting. But this time she didn’t have to beg for
anything. She was in control. So she notched him against her opening and eased
herself down.

“Oh,” she said and sighed as his thickness pressed her open.
“Yes.”

His jaw was ticcing again. The muscles of his neck pressing
tight against the skin.

“Yes.” She sighed. She felt full and tight and he was only
halfway in. Grace rose back up, the pleasure of it making her hum again. His
fingers squeezed hard on her hip, but he let her control the movement even when
she rose high enough that he slid out completely. He muttered something so low
and broken that she couldn’t hear it. Something angry or desperate, she couldn’t
be sure. But he didn’t push her down.

As a reward, she let her hips sink and took him back inside her
body. Deeper this time. Deep enough that she gasped, her lips parting with the
delicious pressure of it. This time when she rose up it was just a little, and
when she sank again, she took him all the way inside her.

His eyes were closed now, his jaw tight and solid with muscle,
his brow furrowed as if he were concentrating.

She liked this. With him. She wanted to simply take from him,
but she liked his part in it just as much as her own.

“Cole,” she said. He opened his eyes, and she began to ride
him. Slow at first, feeling every millimeter of his cock as it slid inside her,
caressing her, stretching her. Slow enough to rise all the way to the tip before
sliding down again. His fingers dug in so hard that the skin felt numb beneath
them, but she didn’t mind. She liked the reminder of his power. Not that she
needed much of a reminder. His chest was wide beneath her. His hips narrow and
muscled. Hair spread from just below the hollow of his throat all the way down
to a narrow line of fur that trailed to his cock.

She slid a hand down her own belly, through the hair of her
sex. She touched her pussy, letting her fingers brush over his shaft as it slid
out of her, wet and hot. Then she touched her clit.

Cole’s eyes blazed as he lifted his head to watch.

She smiled. “You want to watch?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Now he took control of her hips, and she was glad. She
concentrated on touching herself, rolling her clit beneath her fingers while he
eased her hips up and down his shaft. Faster as her body yielded to him, getting
even wetter.

“Tell me,” she ordered. “Tell me.”

“Fuck. You’re so gorgeous. So perfect. And your pussy’s so hot
around me. Squeezing my cock. Jesus.”

She panted as his words worked through her.

“Are you going to come for me like this?” he asked. “Are you
going to come while you ride my cock?”

His words wound around her like some wicked vine, squeezing
tight, pricking thorns into her skin with a pain that just pushed her pleasure
higher.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Good. I want to watch you.” He began to thrust up as he pulled
her hips down, and Grace gasped at the brutal invasion. “I want to watch you
come while I feel you squeeze around me.”

“Yes. Oh, God. Cole. I…”

She leaned forward, putting her free hand to his chest. She dug
her nails into his skin and clenched her eyes shut as she got closer to coming.
“Oh, fuck.” God, he was so big. Too much. And as he said her name and urged her
on, telling her exactly what to do and how to feel, Grace felt every tight
sensation inside her body loosen for the briefest instant. And then it all wound
painfully back again, turning and turning until… “Oh, God!” she screamed, as her
body broke apart on a violent spasm. He slammed his hips up and held himself
deep within her as she came. Then when the last of the clenching waves gripped
her, he pulled her down to his chest and slowly turned them both until he was
cradled between her legs.

“Grace.” He smoothed her hair off her face, the damp strands
making her aware that her whole body was slick with sweat. He kissed her with
surprising sweetness for a man who hadn’t come yet. But Grace was still catching
her breath when he grew more urgent again.

He pressed her hands down, just as he had that first night.
Only this time his hands held her wrists.

She moaned, half in surprised lust, and half in denial that she
enjoyed it. But when Cole started moving in her again, she couldn’t deny how
devastatingly good it was. To be filled with him and held down by him at the
same time. It felt like more than being fucked. It felt like being taken.

He thrust slowly, but without any mercy, sinking himself as
deep as he could. His hands felt like an extra connection, but when he shuddered
and came, Grace suddenly wished her wrists were free. She wished she could put
her arms around him and feel the muscles of his back straining as he came. That
strange, stray thought scared her in a way his roughness never could.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

C
OLE
FROWNED
AS
HE
CAME
OUT
of the bathroom, his eyes roaming over the small apartment. He could see almost
every corner of it from this vantage point. It wasn’t as if there was any
furniture blocking his view.

“Where’s your stuff, Grace?”

She buttoned her jeans and didn’t look up at him. “Thanks for
that.”

“‘Thanks for that’? Really?”

“Yes, really. It was just what I needed. I had kind of a shitty
day, in case you didn’t notice the fun at the ranch.”

He wanted to find out more about that. Who that woman had been,
spouting nasty things about Grace. Whether any of them were true.

“You want that drink now? I’ve got beer at my place.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going to hang out here?” He very pointedly looked
around the room. “Maybe do some meditating? You’ve got a hell of a feng shui
thing going on here.”

“Screw you, Cole.” She opened the door and held it wide,
raising her eyebrows in cool expectation. Cole was relieved not to see any of
his friends out there this time, especially because he was buck naked.

“Uh, Grace? You want to close the door until I get my clothes
on?”

She swept an impatient look down his body, but she closed the
door.

“You’re really not much for pillow talk, are you?”

“No.”

Cole reached for his clothes. “So, you didn’t actually have
anything to move in, did you?” He kept his voice calm, hiding his growing
shock.

“I came here on a bus. There wasn’t a lot of space for
furniture.”

“You just left it behind.”

“Something like that.” Her eyes dipped down as he stepped into
his underwear. “That scar—that’s where you broke your leg?”

He glanced at the scar. “Come over to my place. Have a drink.
Please?”

“I don’t want a drink.”

“Then just come over to my place.” What the hell did she do in
here all evening? No wonder she was so quiet. There was no television. No
stereo. Just a pile of books next to a sleeping bag in the bedroom.

He tugged on his shirt and shoved his feet into his boots.
“Come on. Did you have dinner?” he asked, opening the door and trying to scoot
her through.

“Yes,” she snapped. “I’m not a stray cat. I don’t need you to
feed me.”

“Fine. Then just get naked and get in my bed. I don’t give a
shit.”

That made her laugh, as usual. An insensitive jab. She even
smiled as she willingly followed him to his apartment. But once she was in the
apartment, she stood there, arms crossed as if she was uncomfortable again.

Cole tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Go on. You know where
it is.”

“I thought you were offering a drink.”

“Oh, I’ll bring you a beer once you’re in bed, but not until
then.”

Amazingly, she actually headed for the bedroom. He’d only been
teasing. Mostly. But she just rolled her eyes and laughed her husky laugh and
sauntered toward his room. He thought he saw her hands reach to unbutton her
jeans, and Cole swallowed hard.

Shit. She made no sense to him. She was a mystery. A mystery
inside a minefield. Somehow he couldn’t help but work his way through it,
waiting for the violence to erupt at any moment.

He’d thought she was a typical artsy city girl starving herself
to stay thin and lounging in a minimalist apartment. But he’d let his prejudice
blind him. She didn’t have any furniture. She’d didn’t have real food, probably
because she had no way to cook it. Or just no money at all.

At least he had his answer about whether she’d stolen that
eight thousand dollars. He doubted she had eighty dollars.

Cole grabbed two beers, popped the tops and headed for the
bedroom.

Yeah, she’d taken off her jeans but kept on her faded blue
T-shirt and bright yellow panties. That was a good thing, Cole assured himself
as he handed her a beer. He wanted to talk, and if she were naked, he’d likely
be distracted by her ass. Or her breasts. Or that tempting triangle of perfect
hair between her legs.

Yeah. This was good.

But just in case she preferred a bit more skin, he stripped
down to his briefs as she climbed up to the bed and rested her back against the
headboard. He took the other side and clinked his beer against hers. “Here’s to
a fine evening.”

“Hell, yeah.”

He was taking a drink when he felt her hand on his thigh. She
touched him lightly and then lifted her fingers to hover over him. “Does it
hurt?”

“Yeah. But not when you touch it. The incision is long
healed.”

Her hand lowered again, the warm pads of her fingers brushing
cautiously over the ugly slash of scar tissue. “What happened?”

“You already heard. A horse panicked. A fresh-broke stallion.
Somebody started a diesel engine right next to the corral. He panicked and
reared and backed into a horse I was leading. The stallion lost his footing and
came down right on top of me.”

“Yeah, but this is a surgical scar.”

“The femur was shattered. They had to put plates and screws
in.”

She traced the longest scar, then lightly touched each of the
round white spots that looked like bullet holes. “But it’s okay now?”

“Not quite.”

“But it will be?”

“There’s a good chance.”

Her eyes rose to his as she pressed her hot palm to his thigh.
“You’ll be okay.”

He smiled, entranced to see her being sweet. “You think?”

“I do. You’re a big, strong cowboy.”

“Not as strong as I used to be.”

“Mmm. But just as big.” Her fingers dragged playfully over his
cock, which already felt pleasantly heavy from all the attention in such close
proximity.

“Flatterer,” he murmured.

“I can be charming when I have to.”

He leaned in to touch her hip and press a kiss to her neck.
“Charm comes in a lot of different packages.”

“Don’t expect too much.”

“All right.” He pushed the hem of her shirt up just enough to
let his thumb graze the black lines of her tattoo. “Tell me about your
tattoo.”

“I already told you about it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She tilted her head a little, a hint that she wanted another
kiss. So he kissed her again, then caught her earlobe between his teeth for just
a second.

“Someday you’re going to tell me, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” But her body relaxed into him with a
sigh.

“All right. Tell me about that woman. The awful one who was
trying to get you in trouble.”

Her sigh this time was rough with frustration. “Oh, God. I
don’t know anything about her. I think I met her at a party in L.A. She
obviously knows my ex.”

“You think that’s why she did it? Because of him?”

Grace frowned. “I don’t think so. It seemed like she was just
showing off for Madeline.”

“Ah. Of course. People have told lies for less.”

Grace sat up again, her back to the headboard of his bed. She
took a sip of beer. “What if it’s not a lie?”

“Which part? You already told me you weren’t into drugs, and I
know you’re not a big drinker. Are you a thief?”

“What if I said I was?” she asked, her chin edging out.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I know you didn’t take eight
thousand dollars, anyway.”

“How?”

“You’re spending your nights in a sleeping bag on hardwood.
Either you’re the most frugal thief ever or it isn’t true.”

“But if it was? If I were a thief?”

“What are we talking about here? Cars? State secrets? Your
ex-boyfriend’s kinky porn stash?”

She managed a small smile. “No. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It
was just a misunderstanding. And now he’s being an asshole.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Her smile faded and she crossed her arms. “We weren’t really
getting along, that’s all.” They drank their beers in silence for a while. He
wondered at the edge in her voice that warned him away from the subject, and
finally decided to dare it.

“Why weren’t you getting along?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but why do you think I’d tell
you my deepest, darkest secrets after the way you treated me last night? What
kind of a fool do you think I am?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Again. This whole film thing…it’s
a sore spot with me.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. You got back in my pants, didn’t you? Just
let it go.”

Yeah, he’d gotten back in her pants, but he had this need
crawling through him, tunneling under his skin. He wanted to get her to reveal
more than just her body. He had no idea why. Her dark eyes drove him mad. And
her cool smiles. And the way she’d seemed so unsurprised at the way he’d treated
her.

It fascinated him and made him feel like shit at the same
time.

He needed to know more. Maybe if he offered something, she’d
tell him more in return. “I worked for Madeline Beckingham when she was shooting
a film here thirteen years ago. I got caught up in the attention. I didn’t like
what it brought out in me.”

“Were you an actor?”

“At first I was just an extra. Then I helped with some of the
training on riding issues. I worked with the stuntmen. And I got a small
part.”

“That doesn’t explain your anger.”

Here was the delicate part. Telling the truth without coming
close to all of it. He sat back against the headboard with a sigh. “I got caught
up in it. Arrogant. Madeline promised me a lot of things, and I believed her. I
was stupid enough to give up my spot at the ranch I’d worked at for four years.
I walked away from my friends during the busiest part of the season. Left the
girl I’d been in love with for two years. I acted like I was better than all my
old friends. In general, I behaved like a self-satisfied, conceited
asshole.”

“And what does that have to do with girls like me?”

He watched her hands as she slowly rolled the bottle back and
forth between them. “You’re not like those women. I shouldn’t have said that to
you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You’re not polished like that.”

“No? I’m all rough around the edges, huh?”

She was rough around more than the edges, but he knew better
than to say that. “No, I mean they’ve been polished into something fake. They’re
smooth and beautiful like plastic. Perfect. High heels in the dirt.”

She turned to look at him, her expression as blank as a white
wall.

“You don’t create yourself into something meant to
attract.”

“Uh, did you just say that?”

“I don’t mean sexually. Obviously, I’m attracted to you.”

“Or it’s the age-old allure of free sex right next door.”

“Come on. You know that’s not true.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “Sure I do.”

“I meant that you present yourself as a warning. That’s
honesty, isn’t it? You want people to think you’re not soft.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly.

He put his hand on her white thigh, marveling at the sight of
his scarred, tanned skin against her perfect leg. “You feel pretty soft to
me.”

“Don’t be fooled. I’m not and I never have been.”

“Why?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. As if
he didn’t really give a shit at all.

It worked. “My life’s been pretty screwed up. That’s all. I had
to take care of myself.”

“Did you always live in L.A.?”

“Not always, but nearby. Long Beach. Riverside. San Bernardino.
And little places out in the desert. We moved a lot when I was young.”

“You and your family?”

“Me and my mom.” She finished her beer and got up to walk to
the kitchen. “You want more?” She brought back two more and lay back down beside
him. When she repositioned herself, her shirt hitched up a little, and Cole took
the opportunity to slide his hand up her hip.

He watched his fingers spread over the tattoo, fascinated by
the contrast. Her fine white skin, untouched except for the startling blackness
of the ink and, covering them both, his brown fingers. After years of clashes
with leather and steel and wood and barbed wire, his hands looked like they’d
been chewed up by a machine. But her skin was flawless. As if she’d never been
touched, much less damaged.

A dangerous illusion that only added to her mystery. He
shouldn’t try to solve it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

* * *

“Y
OU
MUST
HAVE
BEEN
a tiny kid,” he murmured.

She tried to ignore the way his hand felt on her sensitive
belly. She tried to pretend she didn’t feel tiny again. “Yeah,” she answered. “I
didn’t look tough, so I had to be tough.”

“Bad neighborhoods?”

She paused, staring at her beer and seeing a dozen different
apartments in a dozen different cities. “My mom wasn’t around a lot. That’s
all.”

“And your dad?”

That was an easier answer. That one didn’t even hurt. “I never
met him. What about your parents? Did you grow up on
Bonanza?
Or…what was that other one?
Gunsmoke?
”

“Are you asking if my mother was an Old West whore?”

She convulsed and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the beer
in. “Oh, God,” she finally gasped. “Don’t do that when I’m taking a drink.”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Okay, I forgot about Miss Kitty. Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply
anything.”

“At least she had a heart of gold. But no. My dad was a ranch
hand his whole life. My mom left when I was ten. She’s married to an insurance
salesman out in Casper. They used to make me go stay there during the summer,
but I kept running away, so that stopped. That’s it. Pretty boring.”

“That sounds sad, actually.”

“Naw, it wasn’t bad. Normal kid stuff.”

She turned to meet his gaze, and he was watching her so
carefully, his blue eyes clear and pure. “Are you sure?”