Cowboy Got Me Shook (BWWM Romance) (5 page)

Splashing against her soft, sensitive skin, she felt reinvigorated. Brand new. The memories of the past night flowed with the steam. Angel hit the bed right after he dragged her back to the house, passing out immediately.

But now she remembered the night before so vividly.

Her mouth on Grant. She could still taste him. She could still smell him. And when she grabbed the shower gel, she caught a whiff of the bar of soap, the scent of pine and a hard working man.

A shiver ran down her spine, followed by a quiver in her thighs. Angel, with shaky hands, placed the soap back where she found it.

What got into me last night?

You know you have to put an end to this right away girl. You can’t be with a man that different. And you’re not the type to have a one night stand, so what were you thinking?

Angel couldn’t come up with an answer. The only one she could think of was that it must have been a mistake. Her hands soapy, she washed her breasts, covering them with the suds. Her perky, dark nipples peeked out from under the bubbles.

The same feeling of Grant’s touch on her breasts swallowed her whole. The quiver returned, and she reached out, holding onto the wall to contain her horniness.
Keep it together, Angel.
She hurried with the shower, realizing that it wouldn’t do much to help her restlessness. As she toweled off, things looked a lot brighter. Feeling brand new, she was ready to face the day. If it was doing the same work as yesterday, mending the fence, she wouldn’t mind it too much.

Later in the night, she would keep away from Grant. Maybe seducing him in the woods last night would cause him to act awkwardly and he would stay away from her. Maybe he would let her do her own thing.

What I did yesterday might not have been as bad as I thought.

Angel dressed. She wished she brought more modest clothing with her. Although it rattled her to think she would be turning Grant on more, it fit into her plan. If she wore revealing clothes, Grant was more likely to stay out of her way.

She knew he had reservations about doing what he did. He would regret it. So she put on her sexy ripped jean shorts, and threw on a shirt with a deep V, covering up a see through bra.

Breakfast was delicious. He served her an omelet, and it was all organic, everything taken from his garden. When she was finished, she headed out to help Grant. She hoped her plan would work and he would be distracted. That would allow her to simply walk out the door at night.

The ranch wasn’t the place for her. She couldn’t stand being so isolated, couldn’t stand being under someone’s watch when there were far more exciting things to do. She picked up her pace to the barn, figuring that must be where the cowboy went. When she rounded the bend, she found the doors opened with Grant holding a wheelbarrow for her.

This time they were loaded with heavy, nondescript sacks. She expected him to glance away, and simply grunt orders at her. What she found was Grant’s steady, piercing eyes honing in.

Maybe he wasn’t as ashamed as I thought.

Heat rose to her cheeks. She instinctively took a sack in her hands, then promptly dropped it from its weight.

What was he playing at? He had to know she couldn’t handle something so heavy.

“There’s a run off that’s causing mud at the far end of the ranch. We need to patch it up with soil. Actually, you need to,” he said, patting the bags. “This is the soil. Just place it firmly, building your way across both sides of the flowing water.”

“Yeah, all right,” she said, hardly believing she would soon be doing it.

There was no way.

“Did you say mud?”

He turned away from her, focusing on his own work, setting his tools onto a saddle. “Yeah, there’s mud. Lots of it. You’re going to get dirty today.”

From his work, his muscles already shone with a thin layer of sweat, the sheen on his biceps giving her heart a flutter. She could feel her knees weaken, and Angel steadied herself, hoping she wouldn’t succumb to him again.

Bastard.

You didn’t like what I did to you yesterday? Going to act like nothing happened?

She wondered just what kind of man Grant really was.

He tossed the saddle into his arms, carrying it against his chest. “Go on now.”

She huffed, spinning, heading to the wheel barrow. When Angel used her momentum, got the right leverage, and the right amount of anger, she was able to shove it along. Once it got moving, things were easier, and she hurried out of the barn before it slowed.

“About last night,” he said, striding toward her. She didn’t turn around...
damn, why did he have to bring this up as I’m wheeling this heavy thing?
Couldn’t he have said it before?

One upping me again.

“Don’t think I forgot about what happened or I’m too afraid to bring it up. We’ll speak about it after your work is done.”

Angel didn’t even answer. Too involved in the wheelbarrow, she grunted, shoving it along, hoping that she would find tracks as they neared the grass. She could’ve leapt onto her hands and knees and thanked God when the wheels spun into a trail, except that would mean stopping her momentum, which Angel definitely wasn’t going to do. Afraid it might not last forever, she shoved with every ounce of energy she could muster.

As she neared the far outline of the fence, coming around the entire ranch, her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her hands burned, yet she kept her grip, not willing to let go. Then she struck mud.

The barrow toppled over, and with it, went Angel. The wheels sank and the weight dragged her to the mud. She fell onto her side, grasping for anything to pull her back up, but all she found was more mud.

Covered in it, she staggered onto her knees. She used the wheelbarrow to right herself up again.

“Yo, this place is going to fucking kill me.” Angel thought about kicking the dirt for a second, but stopped when she saw more mud.

The job was going to be tough. For whatever reason, Grant gave her a near impossible task. He must not have liked being seduced the night before. In order to feel better about it, she figured, he gave her even harder work to do, so he could feel better when he talked to her mother.

Weak, she thought. That was a weak thing to do.

But he said he would be talking to her later about it. What would he have to say? She didn’t know Grant for long, but he was anything but weak. She had to be on point.

She wiped her hands off, clapping off the chunks. Angel found the culprit, a stream flowing on the far side of soggy grass at the end of the mud pit. She decided she would need to pack the fresh soil along it, stretching for what looked like half a mile.

It would never happen. She would do her best, but that would mean Angel would need to get dirty.

She thrust open the first bag of soil. Then she reached inside without gloves. Angel heaved it onto the side of the stream. Then she packed it in, getting on her hands and knees.

What did it matter? It wasn’t like she was getting off the ranch anytime soon. It was in her best interest to do what Grant said, at least until she understood where he was coming from.

Without knowing his plans, she couldn’t hope to outsmart him.

It took hours until Angel felt like she had done enough. Despite falling, she hadn’t gotten much of the mud on her skin. There was a couple of spots, but it could’ve been worse.

Angel even wondered if she would go out to meet her friends. She was exhausted.

She did a lot for someone her size. If Grant saw it, would he be impressed? She decided to pack some more soil until she was satisfied, or more like, exhausted to the point where she couldn’t lift the next batch.

“Time to go,” she said, and she turned around, heading to the barn, finding it quite difficult to leave all the hard work behind. It seemed she wanted to impress Grant.

When she reached the barn, she hoped that Grant wouldn’t think that she was the living dead.

Grant closed the door behind her.

“You’re a mess,” he said, and she thought she heard a chuckle. Before she could react, Grant pushed past her, grabbing her hand and forcing her along.

“We should get you cleaned off.”

He put her against the barn wall. Then he strode to his supplies in the corner, grabbing a bucket, then filling it to the top with a hose, he took a sponge and wet it. He put the cool, damp sponge to her neck. It cooled her off at the touch, but then came an overwhelming heat.

Having Grant touch her like that, did he think he was going to calm her down? He was doing the opposite. Her nerves were shaky, her fingers clenching, she kept her sight down at the hay, hoping she wasn’t coming off as insecure.

“I can do it,” she told him.

“You don’t have to do it yourself.”

She didn’t stop him as he swerved the sponge across her neck, caressing her, making her want to purr and moan. He had to know what he was doing to her. This was all part of his twisted game, and Angel couldn’t give in to him. She was the one in control here, right?

But it felt too good to make him stop.

He pushed it lower, getting her shoulders, still able to apply pressure with the sponge, kneading her tense muscles. They were so tense. Had they always been that tense? Had she never noticed how much stress she was holding onto? She melted to his touch.

“Take your shirt off.”

Her eyes sprang up. But she didn’t turn. He took her hands firmly, but with a grip that would let her shake him off if she wanted. Angel lifted her arms, letting him strip her of her shirt, giving him a view of her naked backside.

Grant crossed over the barn to grab a bottle of soap. He turned to check out her breasts, and she sprang to hide her cleavage. Why was she so shook by this man? It had been easier to face him in the dark, but still, she was never this nervous, not even around Jamal.

Mixing in the soap, he dipped the sponge in, then he laid it on her again, his touch, running down her spine to her lower back, relaxing her at last. She wanted to fall back into his strong, comforting arms.

A moan slipped as he caressed, soaping her up from her bottom all the way to her shoulders. The strap to her bra was soaked, and she thought about it getting so wet that it would simply snap free. The more he rubbed her down, getting her nice and clean, the more the arousal in her chest swelled.

He circled her hips. God, she wanted him to get a firm hold, put that hardness inside her, and fill her. Even though he was using pressure, the pleasant massage, as it kept going, wasn’t enough to satisfy. Angel wanted more, but she wouldn’t dare say so.

Grant could breach the subject. He could get himself anything he wanted, it seemed. That man had a way about him.

“Take your shorts off.”

This time, Angel needed to look back at him to see his expression. Was it a joke? A ploy to trick her into something?

No, he was serious, and Grant wasn’t a good actor. That man was blunt.

Angel didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what to say for once. Unbuttoning her shorts, she froze, bracing herself, then felt his solid hands on her curves again, and she dropped them, sliding them over her plump ass.

He let a groan escape.

The sponge touched her lower back, then slipped lower, tracing the curve of her big black ass. The suds trailed down, slipping underneath, escaping to her inner thighs. She shifted, noticing the friction between her thighs, and just how wet and juicy she was between there without the soap and water.

Damn, this crazy cowboy nigga’s got me….

I can’t be falling for him like this, can I?

What would that mean for her, exactly? A life on the ranch? A life with Grant? Another one night stand with the man who was supposed to protect her? She stopped worrying as he dropped the sponge, using his wet and lathered hands to caress her ass.

He dropped to her knees.

She stiffened. Angel desired to be on her toes, to reach up higher, to avoid him, because he was so close to her sex, so close to touching her in that intimate, sensitive area. She could feel his heat on her ass, and she lost her breath. Grant stroked the back of her thighs, going lower, all the way down to her ankles, scrubbing her clean and getting her off.

“Nice and clean now,” he said.

Were they done?

Angel was reeling. Goosebumps rose, her heart raced, and her tenderness bloomed.

The cleaning had exposed her so much. She felt weak, defenseless. Who would’ve guessed being treated like that would break her? Grant, obviously, but how?

Grant didn’t ask for permission to take Angel’s bra off. He knew he already had it. She was his now. She had given herself over to him. With an easy snap, the bra dropped and hit the hay. He pressed himself against her, keeping her steady against his chest while he poured the suds over her naked breasts.

Tender, sore, her breasts were needy. Her lovely nipples stuck straight out, ripe and ready for the plucking. Lips too close to her neck, he kept behind her, stroking around her collar bone, not daring to go lower yet to her tender tits.

Angel moaned, trembling against him, thankful for his hold. His warmth spread her legs out. She could feel his hard cock press against her, and shifted, grinding against it a little to be sure.
Yeah, that’s a hard on. Definitely. I’m not wrong. Damn.