Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (30 page)

Slowly, he took the kiss deeper, trying to tell her everything he felt. That there was tenderness as well as passion, respect as well as lust. That there was love.

When their lips finally parted again, her dark eyes looked huge and dazed. Shiny, almost as if she was going to cry. No, God no, he didn’t want to make her unhappy. “Kim, I—” He didn’t know what he was going to say, and she stopped him before he could figure it out.

“Don’t talk,” she said.

He was going to ask why, but she distracted him by slipping off his lap and reaching for his belt buckle. She undid the belt, the jeans, and he helped her slide his jeans and underwear down his hips. He started to stand, to take off his boots and tangled clothing, but she said, “No. Like that.” And when he reached up to take his hat off, she said, “Leave it on.”

She reached under her skirt, and a skimpy purple thong flipped into the air.

He barely had time to grab a condom from his pocket before she sat down again, this time facing him, straddling his knees. The flock of green and copper dragonflies on her skirt fluttered between them.

She took the condom and sheathed him.

He’d have kissed her again, touched her pussy and made sure she was ready, but she took control. She lifted up, guided him between her legs, shuddered slightly as he slid in.

“Kim, are you okay?”

Thirty

D
on’t talk,” Kim repeated, husky-voiced. She looped her arms around his neck and began to move, sliding up and down his shaft, slow inches at a time, each move seating him more deeply inside her.

Ty remembered that first night, when he’d plunked his hat on her head and she’d ridden him with one hand waving triumphantly in the air. He’d only just met her; she was sexy and intrigued him. Now he knew her. He loved her.

He hugged her and leaned forward to kiss her, but she was arching back, away, so that her breasts thrust toward his mouth. Hard nipples poked against the thin cotton of her copper tank top and the bra—green, he knew from the straps—beneath it. No man in his right mind could resist an offer like that. He moistened the cotton with firm swipes of his tongue, pressing it against a tight nipple, and she shuddered again. His hat tilted, tumbled off his head. She gripped his head in both hands, pressing his face against her breast while he sucked.

He switched to the other breast, and she whimpered, her body clutched, then the spasms of her climax pulsed against his cock.

Those pulses urged him to join in, to surrender, to pump hard and climax too, but he managed to resist. He wanted this to last.

But it seemed Kim had other ideas. Still pressing his head against her chest, she flexed internal muscles around him—clutch and release, clutch and release—in an irresistible rhythm.

He groaned, trying to hold on, but then she lifted up and down on his shaft, added a hip swivel, ground herself against him. Her body gave one clear signal. Come now, and come hard.

And he did, crying out hoarsely as he emptied himself inside her.

He heard her cry too. A sound, maybe a word. His name? The blood roared too fiercely in his ears for him to make it out.

He knew what
he
wanted to say. But was this the moment to tell her he loved her? The sex had been great, but she hadn’t even kissed him. Or let him talk.

Maybe she was thinking about leaving. Hopefully, she was thinking that she’d miss him. Enough that he could talk her into staying. Should he ask her now?

No, she freed her death grip on his head and climbed off his lap, turning away, looking for the thong she’d tossed aside. With her back to him, she pulled it on under her skirt, not even flashing him a look at her pretty legs.

Biting his lip, he got himself pulled together too.

Champagne. Alcohol, bubbles, a celebration of her success. That would get her in the right mood.

“I have champagne,” he said to her still-turned back. “Let’s drink it on the porch.” They’d toast her business and then he’d ask her to stay. To build UmbrellaWings here, to give him a chance.

“Sure. That sounds nice.” Her voice was light, a little artificial.

She went down the wooden steps ahead of him, and through the barn. “How’s Distant Drummer doing?” Her words floated over her shoulder.

“Looking healthier and settling in. Go say hi.”

Slowly, she approached the box stall, crooning sweet nothings.

Ty held back, crossing his fingers and sending a mental message to the horse:
Help me, Drummer girl. This is Kim. You like her. Let’s persuade her to stay.

He heard a snort, the
whuffle
of soft breath, then the horse came from the back of the stall, her ears pricked forward. She bobbed her head a couple of times. Kim held out one small, orange-tipped hand, and Drummer nuzzled it.

The horse hadn’t done that yet with Ty, and he wasn’t one bit jealous. This was another sign that Kim—just the way she was, whimsical, creative, and soft-hearted—belonged here.

“Oh, you do look good, Drummer,” Kim said as she gently stroked the horse’s face. “You’re gaining weight already. Most of us females think that’s a bad thing, but on you it looks terrific. Soon you’ll be all sleek and healthy. And oh I wish”—she broke off, took a quavering breath, bowed her head—“wish I could see you like that. I’ll m-miss you, girl.” Her drooping head slowly lifted and she said, more firmly, “You’re going to have the best, happiest life with Ty’s friend. I hope you’re being nice to Ty, girl. You can trust him, you really can.”

After several long minutes, the horse moved away and Kim came to join Ty. Drummer must have worked some magic, because this time Kim did look him in the eyes, and she reached out to link her fingers with his. “I’ll miss seeing her heal. And I’ll miss you, Ty.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “You don’t have to.” Was this good timing, or bad? “Let’s drink some champagne and talk.”

“Sure. We’ll toast UmbrellaWings.” The cheer in her voice sounded forced. “That is, if a guy who chooses cowboy hats over umbrellas can bring himself to do that.”

Yes, they’d toast her success, and before the evening was through, he hoped they’d be toasting a lot more than that. Like their future.

As they walked toward his house, a drowsy summer breeze fluttered her skirt.

“You look pretty, honey.” Had he told her that before? “You always look so pretty. Like a dragonfly lit down in my yard.”

She gave a surprised smile. “What a wonderful thing to say. I figured you’d think I look frivolous and out of place.”

“How can a dragonfly be out of place?” Jesus, not only whimsical, but almost poetic. He really must be in love.

She studied him curiously, but didn’t say anything else as they went up the steps. Then she smiled again when she saw the table he’d covered with a checked cloth and topped with a bunch of mixed blossoms he’d filched from his mom’s garden. “This looks so nice.”

“Relax on the porch and I’ll get the wine.”

He went to the kitchen and returned with an ice bucket and two champagne flutes—chilled, because he wasn’t a hick. He’d driven to the liquor store and studied the selection of champagnes. Over the years, he’d drunk his share of the beverage, celebrating rodeo wins and ranch successes. He figured Kim had too, as her parents were wealthy.

Dom Pérignon was classic, but the label didn’t say “Kim” to him. The bottle that leaped into his hand was the one with pink apple blossoms etched on it: Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque Rosé. Pink champagne. Girly stuff, and he sure hoped she liked it.

When he took the bottle from the ice bucket, she clapped her hands together. “Oh Ty!”

“It kind of looked like you,” he said, voice a little gruff.

He eased out the cork on a sigh and wisp of vapor. When he poured, the color was a delicate pink, like the engraved blossoms. He raised his glass. “To UmbrellaWings, Kim. May it be a great success, a terrific outlet for your creativity, and bring you fun every workday.”

“Thank you, Ty.” She clicked her glass against his. “To UmbrellaWings.”

They both drank, then she said, “Mmm, delicious.”

“It’s not bad.” In fact, he was too nervous to taste it. He pulled his chair around to face hers. “I was wondering . . .” Rather than leap in, he’d edge his way there. “Have you thought of basing the business here, rather than Hong Kong?”

A shadow crossed her face. “I told my parents Vancouver could be a great place to launch the company.”

He liked that she’d had that idea, but he didn’t like that shadow. “What did they say?”

“A flat-out no.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m only twenty-four. How could I start up a business here, all by myself, without their help? Besides, they said they’d only provide financing if I went home.”

He frowned. “Your business plan was designed to get institutional financing.”

“I know, but now I won’t have to.”

And he’d bet her parents’ financing would come with strings. Pointing that out probably wasn’t the way to win her. “As for being alone here, I’d be happy to help you.”

“Oh, Ty.” Her dark eyes had a soft, vulnerable look. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

His heart throbbed painfully. Whether or not it was the right time, he had to tell her. “You don’t have to. You could stay. I want you to stay.”

Her eyes widened for a long moment, then she gave a wry smile. “Marielle said the same thing. Ty, I value my friends here—I value you—but my family, my life, is in Hong Kong.”

Damn it, he wasn’t like Marielle, and he wasn’t doing this right. “We’re more than friends. I think we could be a lot more, if we gave ourselves a chance.”

“But . . . I don’t know what you mean. What kind of chance? You want a ranch wife who’s like your mom, and I want—” She broke off.

“What? What do you want?”

She worried her lower lip. “The life I’ve always hoped for?” It came out as a question rather than a statement.

“And what’s that?”

Now she sounded more certain. “To live in a big city, be close to my parents, be financially independent, pursue my art, marry a man I love, and have kids.”

“Vancouver’s a big city, and you’re only a day from Hong Kong.”

“But us dating, that would have to end, right? You want a ranch wife and—”

“Stop saying that,” he snapped. Then he took a deep breath. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s what I thought I wanted. But then I met you, dragonfly girl. You’re not the perfect fit for the ranch, but I think you just might be the perfect fit for me.”

“Wow,” she breathed, her dark eyes dreamy. Then she frowned. “No, wait. How can you say that? We barely know each other.”

“That’s why I want you to stay in Vancouver. Let’s spend more time together and see where things go. Life with you . . . well, it sure wouldn’t be the life I’d imagined, but it’d be way more interesting.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s true.” Then they straightened. “But you need an equal partner, someone who’ll shovel manure and tote hay bales, and all that stuff.”

That was what he’d always imagined, but now he shook his head. “I do that stuff perfectly well myself. What I need is someone who cares about the things I do. Who’ll be patient with a damaged horse, who’ll brighten every day just by being in my life. Someone fun and smart and sexy.”

“You brighten my life too.” Her eyes were as soft as her voice. “But asking me to change my life just because we have fun together . . .”

“It’s more than that.” Wasn’t it more for her as well as for him? But he heard what she was saying, and knew he hadn’t been totally honest. “Honey, you’re the only woman I can imagine being with.”

“Ty,” she said wonderingly, her eyes huge and, he thought, vulnerable. “That’s . . . amazing. I’m honored. You’re an incredible man, but we do barely know each other.”

“I know you well enough to love you.” The words burst out and his heart jerked. He’d done it. Taken the leap; risked everything. Laid his heart on the line and given her the power to break it. To reject him, to abandon him.

In that moment, he realized his mom and Kim had been right. Yeah, he’d been scarred by what his birth mom did, and it had taken him until now—it had taken Kim—for him to have the guts to risk the same kind of pain.

Her eyes had gone even wider and her skin was pale.

He forged ahead. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I know it’s too early for promises about the future. I know it’s a lot to ask, that you change your life for someone you’ve just met. But Kim, if you feel anywhere near the way I do, then give us a chance to know each other better. I think we do have a future, and it’s going to be something very special.”

“I, uh . . .” Now she was so pale, he was afraid she’d faint.

His own heart thudded so fast he might damned well hyperventilate and pass out too. Still, he managed to force out more words, a challenge that scared him more than lowering himself onto the back of the rankest bronc he’d ever ridden. “Tell me you don’t think you could ever love me, and I’ll back off.”

* * *

H
e loved her. Kim stared at that strong, striking face, saw the affection and the fear in his hazel eyes. It was the fear that convinced her he really meant it.

Ty Ronan loved her. The rodeo hero, the man who’d given his parents a second Ronan Ranch, the guy who had endless patience with wounded horses, loved her. For the first time in his life, he was in love, and it was with her.

Her heart was full to bursting with sweetness and pain. He wanted her to stay. Yes, of course she’d played with that idea, but she’d never considered it seriously. She couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. It would shatter her parents. Turn her life upside down.

He said he’d back off. All she had to do was tell him she couldn’t love him.

She didn’t love him. She’d always told herself she absolutely wouldn’t love him.

His hands held hers, so strong, so warm. Like a lifeline, even as he’d tossed her into a turbulent sea of emotion.

“Kim? Are you okay?”

Okay?
A hysterical giggle rose in her throat and she choked it back. She’d never been less okay. He loved her? How dare he say that? How dare he make her examine her own feelings more closely than she wanted to? How dare he make her realize that . . .

Oh damn it, she did love him.

No, that wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be in control of her emotions. “Damn you.” The words slipped out, barely audible. “Damn you, Ty Ronan.”

Shock tightened his features. “Kim?”

“I love you too.” This time her voice was decibels louder, almost a yell. “I didn’t want to—I don’t want to—but I do.” She knew her expression was belligerent as she stared at him, but really, how dare he do this to her?

“I knew it,” he said, which would have been kind of arrogant and obnoxious if the joy on his face hadn’t been so clear.

Oh God, he was so adorable, and she did adore him. “I love you, Ty Ronan,” she said wonderingly.

“I love you, Kim Chang.” He grabbed her hand and surged to his feet. “And I want to make love to you, knowing how we feel about each other.” With his other hand, he picked up the champagne bottle. “Come to bed with me, honey.”

She remained seated, staring at their joined hands. She shouldn’t do this. When she’d driven out, she’d told herself she wouldn’t have sex with him, then she hadn’t been able to resist. But she’d tried to tell herself it was just great sex, one final orgasm before she resigned herself to celibacy for a while. Pretending hadn’t worked very well, and now it would be impossible. Now, she’d know they were truly making love.