Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (16 page)

He made her a little dizzy, and she gripped the horn again. “Mmm, a kiss on horseback. I never imagined doing anything like this.”

“I never imagined having a woman paint my body, so we’re even.”

He guided her along another scenic trail until she heard the sound of water, and they came out beside a burbling stream. Ty swung off Desert Sand, then led the horse to the stream and tied the reins to a small tree. The horse promptly dipped his nose and drank.

Dawn ambled over and Ty stopped her, taking her reins from Kim and tying her as well. When the horse lowered her head to drink, Ty said, “Come on down, Kim. Hold on to the horn with your left hand, take your right foot out of the stirrup, and swing your leg over.”

She did so, and his hands caught her firmly at the waist. “Now take your foot out of the left stirrup and I’ll let you down.”

A part of her wanted to say she was capable of getting to the ground under her own steam, but his hands felt too good. So she let him lower her, and when her boots hit solid ground she realized her legs were a little trembly. From riding, or his closeness? She turned in the circle of his arms, took off her hat and plunked it on the saddle horn, then reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“I am.” Surprisingly, it was true. She couldn’t imagine wanting to shovel manure or kill chickens, but riding in the country was pleasant.

He gave her a slow, sweet kiss, which was more than pleasant. “Take off your boots and dip your feet in the stream. It feels great on a hot day.”

“Trying to get my clothes off me?” She said it teasingly, but wondered if he really was. The first time Marty and Dirk had sex in
Ride Her, Cowboy
, it was by a stream in the starlight. Kim and Ty’d had the starlight; maybe now it was time for the stream.

“Aw shucks, you’re on to me.” His tone was joking, though.

Just as well he didn’t mean it. The idea of sex by a stream was romantic, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. Besides, there were animals out here. Bears, maybe? Coyotes? Rattlesnakes? She had no idea, but she wasn’t about to expose her naked body to any of them.

Sixteen

K
im found a big rock by the edge of the water, a little way from the horses. Perching on it, she tugged off boots and socks, and rolled the legs of her jeans up her calves.

Ty tossed his hat to the ground, claimed an adjoining rock, and took off his boots.

When Kim eased her feet into the stream, she shivered at the shock of cold water against overheated skin. It felt blissfully refreshing.

She took off the long-sleeved shirt she’d borrowed, and tossed it onto the rough grass at the bank of the river. Feeling more like her real self in her tee, she leaned back on her hands and lifted her face to dappled sunshine. “I’m no nature girl, but this is cool.” The only sound was the burble of the stream and the occasional birdcall, the fresh scent was something she couldn’t name, and not a touch of breeze disturbed the still air.

Sitting up again, she gazed into the stream, watching the way it danced around rocks and the sun glinted off it. How would she paint that? There were more shades of blues and greens, of browns and golds, than she could name. How could she capture the sense of constant motion? Generally, she didn’t do representational art. While she could convey a relatively exact image of a subject, she’d rather interpret the spirit. The spirit of this stream was its cheerful burble, its dance around the rocks, the way it embodied both constancy and continual change.

Oh, yes, this was good for her creativity.

“It’s one of my favorite spots.” Ty’s voice broke into her musings. “I come here sometimes when there’s a problem I’m sorting out, or when I just want to relax.”

She studied him, splashing his feet idly in the water. “You take time out to relax? Your life sounds so busy.”

“Yeah, but life needs balance.”

“I agree, but my parents wouldn’t. They’re all about work.” She dipped her hand in the cool water then ran it over her warm cheeks.

“My parents were like that when they were busting their butts to make a go of it with the ranch in Alberta. But hard work wasn’t enough.”

“How are they doing here at Ronan Ranch number two? Still busting their butts?”

“Kind of. They say they’re much happier doing this than working day jobs and going home and watching TV.”

“When you find the thing you love, it’s still work but it feels different,” she agreed.

“You making any progress on that business plan?”

She groaned. Why did he have to remind her? Glumly she stared into the sparkling stream. “The clothing design thing just doesn’t feel right. I keep hoping for a brilliant idea, but nothing comes.”

“Nothing?”

A glint of sunlight sparked a memory. “Last night when we were leaving the restaurant, a thought flashed through my mind. Now what was it? You kissed me and I forgot.”

“Sorry. Well, not that I drive everything else out of your mind, but sorry if I distracted you from a good idea. What were we talking about? You almost forgot your umbrella and—”

“That’s it!” She stared at him, her eyes widening. “It was about umbrellas. I remembered how you’d said ‘Don’t fly away’ earlier, and I thought that umbrellas were kind of like wings. And I have a thing for wings.” She ran a hand through her hair as she remembered her train of thought. “But umbrellas are such boring wings. And I thought, do they have to be?”

He leaned forward on his rock, eyes bright with interest. “You mean you could design more fun umbrellas?”

“That are like wings. Umbrella wings, yes! Umbrellas are such boring shapes and colors.” Excited, she thought it through out loud. “But if I did wing shapes, there’d have to be enough fabric to keep a person dry.”

“Hey, if a cowboy hat can do it.” He flicked water up with his toe, splashing her leg.

“Most of us want to be a little drier than that. I could do broad wings, or if the wings were skinny, there could be clear plastic between them.” She nodded; that could work. “And parasols too, maybe painted ones. For sun protection. They’re a big thing with some Asian women who don’t want their skin to darken. And other women too—older ladies, or ones with delicate skin, or who’ve had skin cancer.”

“If you had different lines”—his voice was almost as animated as her own—“women would buy an umbrella and love it, then want a parasol too.”

“Ooh, and how about this? Elegant umbrellas for classy occasions, and bright playful ones for walking to work on a rainy day. Strong, masculine umbrellas like hawk and eagle wings. Kids’ umbrellas like ladybugs!”

“Cute. Kids would love that.”

“Women could collect fancy umbrellas the way they collect shoes.”

He nodded. “Kim, I think you’re on to something.”

“I’d have to research fabrics. Mechanisms that work properly and don’t break. Material for poles and frames. Metal would work with some designs, but it’s too harsh for others. Bamboo, maybe. Oh my, I’ve got my work cut out for me. But Ty, it feels right!” She stared across the short distance between her rock and his, almost unable to believe this was real.

“Bet you want to dive right in and get started,” he said, resignation in his voice.

Oh, yes!
And yet she was here, with Ty. It would be rude to dash back to Vancouver and start work. It wouldn’t hurt to let the idea gel, let her creativity have free rein, before she put her mind to the practicalities. She had to be both artist and businesswoman—and just plain
woman
woman, which was how he made her feel.

“No.” She slid gingerly off the rock into the stream, the chill bite of the water creeping up her calves. One jeans leg unrolled and dragged into the water but she ignored it. She stepped carefully over to stand in front of him, between his legs. “Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I might never have thought of this.”

His face softened and warmed. “Sure you would, dragonfly girl.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’m glad if I helped.”

“Thank you for taking me seriously as an artist.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her.

Leaning forward, she rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed those smiling lips, pouring all her gratitude and excitement and hope into that kiss.

His thighs tightened around her hips and his hands framed her head as he kissed her back. His tongue teased hers and he nipped the corner of her mouth.

Her body ignited, all the way down to her water-chilled feet.

“What say we take this some place more comfortable?” he asked.

“Back to your house?”

“No.” He slid forward on his rock, nudging her back until he slipped into the stream too.

When he stepped out of the water, he didn’t bother with socks and shoes, just picked up the shirt she’d cast aside and held out his hand.

She took it and followed, wincing as rough grass, tree cones, and pebbles stabbed her sensitive feet. Ty must have soles like leather. Fortunately, after a few more steps, he stopped at a relatively smooth patch of grass under a tall tree. He tossed her shirt down, pulled off his own, and spread the two out. “It’s not a bed, but we only make it to a bed half the time anyway.”

That was something she loved about their relationship. Before Ty, she’d only ever had sex in a bed. His way was much more erotic. Usually. As for now . . . “Aren’t there bears? Rattlesnakes?”

“None that are gonna bother us here.”

She pressed her lips together. Yes, she was hungry for him, but was it safe? She knew less than nothing about the great outdoors.

“Trust me,” he said.

And she did. “Okay.”

“Then strip for me. I want to see you naked in daylight.” His voice was husky, and an erection pressed against his fly.

Strip for him? In the middle of nowhere? Did she dare? A ripple of arousal made her tremble, telling her how much she wanted to release her inner dirty girl. Ty had the kinkiest ideas, and she loved it!

She undid the button of her jeans, slid down the zipper, and eased them down her hips. Trying to imagine how a stripper might do this, she added a hip swivel and a little back arching. Her turquoise thong stayed on—for now. As her jeans cleared her butt, she rotated, still gyrating, to give Ty a view of her near-naked backside.

Gaze fixed on her, he sank down, his jean-clad butt on the rough ground, his naked back against a tree trunk. “Jesus, Kim, you’re hot.”

She was. Hot for him. This striptease game made her totally aware of her body, of his eyes on her, of his ripped bronzed torso, of the need he awakened in her.

She turned back, hips still grinding, and continued peeling her jeans. When they were almost at the ground, she turned to again give him her back view. Then she bent down to free first one foot from the crumpled denim, then the other. Before straightening, she separated her legs to make a vee, and looked at him upside down from between them. “So far, so good?”

“Too good. It’s all I can do to keep from grabbing you.”

“You could grab me.”

He shook his head. “I want you to strip all the way and lie down. Like you’re waiting for me. Wanting me to come to you.”

If that was his fantasy, she’d make it come true. Kim straightened in a slow, catlike motion, caught the hem of her T-shirt, and lifted it to bare her back, revealing the straps of a pink bra with orange lace trim. After a couple of hip thrusts, she peeled the tee over her head. Holding it loosely folded in front of her breasts, she swiveled back to face Ty.

Shifting the shirt back and forth, with only the burble of the stream for music, she teased him before letting it drop on top of her cast-off jeans. She ran soft fingertips along the top edge of her bra, her violet-painted nails flicking sensually against her skin. Her nipples were hard, craving the touch of his callused hands, his firm lips. This bra had a front clasp. When she unfastened it, she held the bra in place with a hand over each cup.

* * *

B
e careful what you wish for, Ty told himself. When he’d asked Kim to strip, he’d meant to peel off her clothes and lie down. Trust her to give the actions a sexy twist.

Here he was at a back corner of Ronan Ranch, being treated to his own private strip show. Kim didn’t seem experienced at this. It wasn’t something she did for just any guy. But she was so lithe and graceful, everything she did looked erotic.

She flirted the cups of her pink bra off and on, giving him glimpses of naked flesh then covering up again.

“Take it off,” he urged. He was dying to rip off his own clothes, free the hard-on that surged painfully against his fly, and make love with her. Yet watching her like this was something he’d never forget.

Never forget.
The thought distracted him. He’d always assumed that one day he’d find the right woman and get married. But, hmm . . . She’d have to be something special so that, when they made love, he wouldn’t think of Kim on the hood of his truck, Kim on her balcony, their paint-smeared bodies twining together, her stripping for him by the stream.

But of course his wife would be special. They’d create their own memories. Even better ones. If that was possible. . . .

Kim shrugged, freeing the bra straps to slip off her shoulders and down her arms, capturing his full attention. She held the cups in place for a few beats of the imaginary soundtrack she was stripping to. Then, finally, she let it drop.

Her perfect breasts were firm, the budded nipples a dusky pinkish brown against the paleness of skin that hadn’t seen the sun. Her tan came from wearing tank tops and shorts. The rest of her skin was paler, a dramatic contrast to her black hair and the vivid colors she liked to wear.

Like that scrap of turquoise thong. Would she give him another rear view? He wasn’t sure he could take it.

Tossing him a saucy smile as if she’d read his mind, she turned again and played with the center strap of her thong, tugging it away from her skin as if she intended to peel the skimpy garment off, then letting the strap fall back to hug her skin.

“Off,” he said, squirming in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure against his cock. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Patience isn’t your middle name.” She gyrated slowly as he ogled the curves of her butt.

“Patience isn’t any of my names.” Actually, it was. A rancher, a horse trainer, had to be patient. And with Kim, he loved the way she teased, tantalized, and tortured him. He figured she knew that without him saying so.

She turned to face him, hips grinding slowly and seductively, and finally eased down the side straps of the thong. The small triangle came away from her skin.

Ty gaped. The patch of black pubic hair was gone.

The thong dropped down to join her bra and tee. She was utterly smooth, utterly nude. He’d liked her silky feminine hair, but this was definitely provocative.

“Come over here.” He pointed to the spread-out shirts.

She did her best to saunter over, but winced when a rock or twig poked her sole. She had the most feminine feet, with bright turquoise toenails. Sexy feet. Sexy woman. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Man of mystery.”

“Not for long.”

When she made to lie down on the shirt, he said, “No, on your hands and knees.”

Another eyebrow lift, then she nodded like she’d figured it out. “Okay.”

He stifled a grin. She thought he was going to do her from the rear. Nope. Kim Chang wasn’t the only one with a surprise or two up her sleeve.

He lowered himself, and in a quick move slid his body under hers in the opposite direction. His naked back was on his shirt, his hips between her spread hands, and his face inches away from heaven: her sweet pussy. Her utterly naked pussy, rose pink and slick with the cream of her arousal.

“Oh!” She gave a surprised squeak, then another when he caught her hips and tugged her lower, those last few inches until he could swipe his tongue along her bare flesh and taste how hungry she was for him.

Her next “Ooohhh” was low and drawn-out, with a shudder of discovery and pleasure.

His cock throbbed urgently as Kim pressed her pussy against his face. He lapped her, darted his tongue between those swollen folds, then, as she panted, “Please, Ty, please,” he sucked gently on her clit until she came in pulsing spasms against his lips.