Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 (8 page)

He was breathing through his teeth; his hot breaths cooled her sweat-damp skin. Three more deep thrusts and he froze, his rock-hard abs pressed against her ass cheeks, his balls cool and heavy against her clit.

Impossibly, he thrust even deeper and pinned her in place, the head of his big cock pressed up against a spot near her cervix.

Holy fuck.

Melody closed her eyes. Intense shockwaves of sensation gathered like a whirlpool inside her, as if he’d discovered a new G-spot at the very back of her pussy.

When Clark began to come, he pulled Melody into the gravity of his orgasm. She climaxed a third time, confused but too overcome with lust to care. Pleasure, heat, sweat and come—Clark and Melody tumbled together in the enormous wave, their time together as lovers dying one agonizing second at a time.

She fell asleep almost the moment he withdrew from her body. She woke again, just for a moment, when the bed dipped and he came back from the restroom after cleaning up. Reflexively, she reached for him and wrapped her body around his.

“Good night, Mel,” he whispered against her cheek.

She breathed him in, drawing him into her dreams. “Good night.”

* * * * *

Clark looked down at Melody. The pain he felt in his chest was at complete odds with the pleasure he felt everywhere else.

Who needs a fucking heart anyway?

Drowsy and lovely, she lay under him, her dark hair a beautiful mess on the pillow. Earlier, after they woke up in each other’s arms, she didn’t say a word when he reached down between her legs and slowly caressed her with his fingers until she was silky and hot again. She didn’t say a word when he put on another condom. And she didn’t say a word when he eased inside her, the morning sunlight filling her glistening eyes with fire.

Her fingertips drew wide, lazy circles on his back. She wrapped her legs around his hips and every time he thrust, she clenched at him, drawing him deeper into the dark mysteries of her body.

Clark loved sex. He fucking loved it.

But for all the women he’d slept with, he’d never known anyone like Melody. Maybe because she knew him, inside and out—he didn’t have to withhold anything from her or pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Maybe because in her own quiet way she made him feel as though everything was going to be all right. Whatever the reason, sleeping with Melody was a revelation. He didn’t just make love to her. He
lost
himself in her.

“I can’t believe how good it is with you,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “This is torture, letting you go.”

“We have to let go.”

She was right. He knew it. He had never been in a long-term relationship. She had enormous trust issues. No amount of good sex could alter the fact that they’d tear each other apart and destroy their friendship in the process. And Clark wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened.

So Clark gorged himself on her, burning away the morning making love to her as slowly as he could. He took himself to the edge, denied himself orgasm again and again until his body throbbed, incandescent with lust.

Ravenous, he embedded her scent and her taste in his brain. He memorized every curve and detail of her body so that when he was an old man sitting in his rocking chair, he could close his eyes and remember what it was like to be young, in love, and alive.

She came first, clinging to him and shuddering in silence. When he came at last, his orgasm was so intense that he almost blacked out. Which was good—he hoped the numbness would keep him from facing the fact that this was the last time they’d ever make love.

Sedate, they took separate showers, checked out of the hotel and drove to Oleander without much conversation. When Clark pulled up to her trailer, Melody turned to him and gave him a smile so beautiful in its melancholy that he gripped the steering wheel to keep from breaking down or losing his temper or both.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Clark. For everything. I’m happy about the contract.”

He watched her as she walked up the steps, unlocked the front door and disappeared inside.

Yeah
, he thought to himself, almost sick with sadness.
Who needs a fucking heart anyway?

* * * * *

Another two weeks passed.

As promised, Lucky showed up at noon with the moving van, and Clark arrived in the truck shortly thereafter. Harmony had no problem imperiously bossing around the two big cowboys as they loaded the van with all of her furniture and boxes without complaint.

By one o’clock, the van was full and the boys were hot and sweaty. Melody poured everyone a big glass of iced tea and they sat on lawn chairs in the shade of the trailer, listening to the buzz of insects in the midday heat.

“Your electricity will be on when you arrive, right?” Melody asked. “And your landline?”

“Electricity only,” Harmony replied, crunching on the ice cubes in her glass. “I’m not getting a landline.”

“You have the keys? And your assigned parking space in the complex?”

“It’s all taken care of. Jeez. Calm down, will you?”

Melody sighed. “Just making sure. I want everything to go smoothly for you.” A hot breeze blew through the eucalyptus grove in her neighbor’s yard. She’d just taken a shower but her hair was already almost dry. In two hours, she’d be starting her shift at the Silver Spur.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to drive to Bakersfield every day anymore,” Harmony said. “That got old real fast.”

“How often are you planning on coming back, Harm?” Clark asked. He’d taken off his sweaty T-shirt and hung it on the back of the chair. Melody tried not to stare, but it was impossible: all that golden-brown muscle, glistening in the sun.

Harmony shrugged. “Maybe once a month. Depends on the shifts I get at the hospital.”

“Let us know if you’re in town Labor Day weekend. Mom wants you both to come to the house for a barbecue. You too, Lucky.”

“Only if there are illegal fireworks and free-flowing Fireball,” said Harmony. She winked at Lucky, who grinned like a lovesick fool.

Melody cleared her throat. “We’ll let you know,” she said to Clark.

“Good.” Clark took a long drink. Drops of condensation from his glass landed on his abs and gathered in the creases of his six-pack. Melody blinked and forced herself to look away.

After a little more sisterly nagging and a quick hug, Harmony hopped into her hatchback, Lucky got in the van, and together they drove off honking. As the cars faded off in the distance, Melody stood on the lawn, arms crossed, remembering what it was like to start a new adventure like the one Harmony was about to face. She herself had left for San Diego at eighteen. She never would’ve guessed she’d be right back here, ten years later, her own adventure fizzled out and dead.

She didn’t hear Clark come up behind her. He rested his big hands on her shoulders and gently began to massage her. His touch was warm and sure. Despite the alarms in her head about his proximity, Melody relaxed. Tension drained slowly out of her body and she let her head and arms go slack.

“You did good, Mel,” he said. “She may not be grateful, but I know how hard it’s been on you.”

That voice.
God. Commanding her in the dark. Telling her his secrets. She could listen to Clark talk forever. It had been fifteen days since they’d slept together for the last time. Her dreams were still full of him—his body, his touch, and most of all, his voice.

She turned around to face him. She was wearing a tank top, cut-offs, and flip-flops. The sun burned her bare skin, as did the way Clark’s eyes skittered over her body as he tried not to stare. Unspoken attraction crackled between them, dry tinder for a fire. She had to be careful. Their friendship had taken such a beating that even now, she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You hungry?” she asked. “I made a pot of rice and some chicken
adobo
. Harmony was too excited to eat, so there’s plenty.”

Filipino chicken stew with garlic and vinegar. Clark raised his eyebrows. “Your mom’s recipe?”

She nodded.

“I guess I could suffer through that,” he joked, following her inside. All the MacKinnon boys had loved her mom’s home cooking.

They kept the lights off. An oscillating electric fan stirred the warm, dark air in the kitchen as they ate. For dessert, Melody cut open a ripe watermelon. The sweet red juices gathered in a pool on her plate.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Clark said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “Jerome’s ready to launch his truck. A local news crew is going to show up tomorrow to tape a promotional spot. He wants us there with him.”

“On camera?” she asked. “Why?”

“He wants to push that he’s serving grass-fed beef. He’s changed the name of the truck too.” Clark gave her a goofy grin. “It used to be The Big Jerome. But now he’s calling it Cowboy Burgers.”

Melody gave a bark of laughter. “Really? That’s great! I’d love to do it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait. Are you…the cowboy?”

Clark shrugged. He’d hung his hat by the door. He was still distractingly shirtless. “I guess I am.”

“So you’re the spokesmodel? The mascot?” She paused. “Jerome’s…muse?”

“Hey, it’s not like that. He’s a just friend.” Clark gave her a crinkle-eyed smile. “Like you.”

She rolled her eyes. “If that’s the case, then there’s definitely something shady going on between you two.”

Her words hit too close to home. A quick flash of sadness touched Clark’s expression. He blinked it away, stood up and cleared the dishes. Melody shook her head at herself, feeling like a fool.

Don’t make jokes like that.

She followed him to the kitchen counter and turned on the water to begin washing the dishes.

Then, behind her, she felt him again.

He was standing so close her body heat reflected against his. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head; his breath washed over her exposed nape. She wanted him so badly that she became aroused at once, her body clenching up, her nipples hardening, her senses on high alert. He hadn’t even touched her.

“Shady, huh?” His hot whisper burned her skin. “You and me. Is that what you think we are?”

They hadn’t avoided each other. Not exactly. But they had made every effort not to be alone together, to avoid temptation and to keep their promise to each other.

But now Melody’s rules dissolved under the tremendous weight of wanting him.

“I want you so bad it hurts,” he whispered.

Breathless, she turned around, grabbed him and smashed her lips to his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and ran her hands through his thick dark hair. His mouth was cold from the watermelon. As they kissed like the universe was collapsing around them, Clark wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against him, crushing her against all his muscle and heat.

“I need you now. Right fucking now,” he growled against her lips. A man on a mission, he unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down along with her panties. He lifted her and set her on the counter, right on the ledge of the sink. Melody kept her balance as Clark’s fast hands undid his buckle, unbuttoned his fly, magically produced a condom and rolled it on in the space of ten seconds.

And then his arms were around her. Holding on to his shoulders for dear life, Melody wailed as Clark surged forward, burying himself inside her in one long, violent thrust. Pleasure flooded her bloodstream like a powerful narcotic. Clark’s big thumbs rubbed her nipples through the fabric of her shirt as he kissed her, his wicked tongue tangled with hers, thick and sweet and ravenous.

Melody turned to liquid around him. Still locked in his kiss, she reached down between them and began to strum her already swollen clit with her fingers. Clark grunted when he realized what she was doing and deepened their kiss. He was a big, hard man with big appetites. He thrust even deeper. A plastic tumbler fell into the sink. A couple of forks rattled and clinked onto the floor. He slid one hand up her back between her shoulder blades. The other he used to cradle her jaw, stroking her cheek with the side of his index finger. The lazy, tender movement was at complete odds with the way he was making love to her. He fucked her like a rutting bull, slamming his body into hers, his jeans down at his knees and his belt buckle thumping against the cabinet doors.

He sucked her lower lip between his teeth and bit her gently. She looked at him and the fire in his eyes seared her with their intent.

“We were made to do this,” he said. “You and me. As much as we say it’s wrong. It’s so fucking right.”

She came at once. With a gasp, she reached down and grabbed his hips with both hands, pulling him deep as she convulsed around him, melding pain with the furious waves of pleasure that crashed into her, one after another.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. “That’s it. Come for me, sweetheart.”

He widened his stance, bent his knees and, his amazing eyes locked on hers, changed his angle so that he was fucking into her from below. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of him stretching her tender, aching pussy. He made love like every time was the end of the world. He made it feel like it really was.

Her hair had fallen down into a ponytail. He grabbed the end of it and pulled it down slowly until her chin was pointed up, exposing her throat. He kissed her neck and whispered hotly against her skin, “Have you ever had it this good? Tell the truth.”

God, the ego he had on him. But it was deserved. “No. Never this good,” she said.

“Me neither.”

He kissed her again, setting the nerves in her lips on fire. Clark reached down, hooked his hand behind one of her knees and lifted her leg higher. The angle stretched her even more and increased the blazing friction between them.

Clark broke their kiss at last and thrust forward so deep she swore she could feel him in her stomach. Still holding her tightly, he froze and closed his eyes.

When he came, every muscle in his body flexed taut as he thrust home, pumping her like a beast. They were so close together she could feel the twitching of his lower abdomen as he climaxed. She could taste his skin and smell the sharp, clean tang of his come.