Dylan (26 page)

“Are we going to sleep on the floor all night?”

The comforting sound of Dylan's voice rumbling beneath her left ear woke her. “Depends on whether or not you're going to be rolling over any time soon.”

His chuckle was music to her ears and should have been her warning. “I'm thinking about it—right now.”

She squealed with laughter as he yanked her closer and rolled until she was beneath him.

“Interesting position,” he murmured kissing her forehead, nose, and chin. “But I was serious about you in my bed. I want to wake up with you at the Circle G.”

“I already slept with you at the ranch.”

He brushed his lips across her cheekbone. “Ah, but that was to satisfy my need to make love with you beneath the stars on Garahan land.”

She watched him closely, waiting for him to laugh. When he didn't, she frowned up at him. “You aren't kidding?”

“About which part? You in my bed or you beneath the stars?”

“The part where we're on your land.”

“Goes without saying, darlin'. We Garahans are proud of what we've made. My brothers and I have been struggling lately, but we're hanging on to what our great-great-grandparents built with everything we've got. We'll do anything to save the Circle G.”

“I know how you feel,” she whispered, stroking the strong line of his jaw with the tips of her fingers. “I've put everything I had into this business, and I don't intend to run scared because some teenager trashed my store. Pleasure's where I live now… I'm staying… and I'm fighting back.”

Her gaze met his and she saw that he understood. “What do you have in mind?”

“Mavis asked me to compete in the rodeo to help raise money for the town. I hadn't planned on competing again, it's been awhile, but for Mavis and to earn my place in this town, I'm riding.”

“How long has it been since you've been on a horse?”

“Too long.” Running her hands along the breadth of his shoulders, she sighed. “Your strength is one of the first things that hooked me.”

He pressed his hands flat on either side of her head and rose up on his toes. In pushup position, he lifted himself up and then lowered himself until his lips were a breath away from hers. “Is that a fact?”

Her breath snagged in her lungs; it was work, because the man drove her to distraction, but she focused so that she could exhale and then draw in a much needed lungful of air.

Turning her head to the side, she stared at his hand. “You have the most intriguing scars. Is there a story behind all of them?”

“Funny thing about a bow saw,” he began only to be interrupted by her.

“Are you making that up? I've never heard of a bow saw.”

“No,” he grumbled, “I'm not. Now where was I?”

She clamped her lips together and waited for him to continue.

“When you're holding the wood still, make sure to move your hand out of the way of the blade, or you'll run the teeth of the saw right over it.”

She shuddered. “That had to hurt.”

He leaned all of his weight on one arm and lifted his hand to examine it. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Thought I'd cut it clear down to the bone, but the good news was that the blade wasn't all that sharp.”

She knew she should say something, but the man was deliberately teasing her, testing her, by doing one-arm pushups. When she was able to make her mouth work concurrently with her brain, she asked, “So it didn't cut too deep?”

“No,” he answered. “But it was a ragged mess. Tore the skin up real bad.”

An echo of his pain lanced through her and had her reaching for his hand. The crosshatch of lines confirmed his story. “How old were you?”

He lowered himself to within an inch and lined up their lips. “Does it matter?”

The desire churning in his eyes warmed her from the inside out. “Yeah,” she whispered, tracing his lips with the tip of her finger. “It's a part of what made you the man you are today.”

He opened his mouth and sucked her finger into the velvety warmth. The movement of his lips and tongue mesmerized her and had an answering pull tugging at her core. Her body knew what it wanted: Dylan. But could she keep him? She closed her eyes. He wasn't a lost puppy; he was a man.

He brushed against her as he shifted, redistributing his weight. Opening her eyes slowly, she watched him rein himself in, banking the fires of passion burning brightly inside of him.

She could tempt him and rekindle those flames, but she wanted to know more about him. Spending time with him at the ranch might give her the answers she needed—to the questions she had yet to ask.

“We're wasting time, darlin'.” Before she could refuse, he had her hand in his and was tugging her to her feet. “You planning on wearing that bit of nothing again soon?”

She looked down at the sheer black miniscule chemise and then up at his face. From the way he frowned, she couldn't quite tell if he wanted her to. She toyed with the skinny shoulder strap and slid her fingers down along the ribbon running between her breasts. His eyes followed and his nostrils flared. Gotcha!

“I could throw on my nightshirt over top of it.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “You will pay for teasing me, darlin'.”

She smiled and hugged him close. “I plan to, darlin'.”

His rumbled laughter was the sweetest sound. “Grandpa was right.”

When he didn't say anymore, she prompted him. “About…”

“Women.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “If we don't get going, we're going to end up staying here, and you'll miss out on a chance to ride some prime horseflesh.”

She couldn't resist. “Will I get to ride your prime flesh too?”

He swallowed and ground out, “Get your bag, woman, and save that thought 'til we get to the Circle G.”

It felt so wonderful, teasing Dylan and being wanted to the point of desperation. Taking pity on him, she sprinted for the stairs and called out over her shoulder, “Yes, sir.”

On the ride over, she scooted over next to him on the bench seat and reveled in the fact that they could be comfortable enough with one another to ride in relative silence and know that words weren't necessary—being together was.

A light was burning in the kitchen, but the rest of the house was dark. “Will anyone be up?”

“No.” Dylan parked the truck and got out and walked around to her side of the truck, holding the door she'd just opened. “I want to kiss you so badly my gut is churning.”

His confession tugged at her heart and had her leaning close. “What's stopping you?”

“My brother's window is right up there.” He pointed to the middle window on the second floor. “And you're loud.”

“Kissing you?”

His eyes swirled with a heady mix of passion and lust. “We wouldn't be kissing for long.”

“Oh.” Her fingertips tingled as her blood began to race. “We could sit on the swing.”

He shook his head. “We just put it back together.”

“It looks solid,” she said, walking toward it.

He seemed to gather himself in as he spoke. “It was the last gift my dad gave my mom.”

As if she understood, she said, “She'd think of him every time she sat on it.”

His serious expression lightened. “Yeah. We all did.”

Knowing his parents weren't around and not wanting to bring up what could be a painful subject, she hooked her arm with his. “We can have coffee out here in the morning.”

“Darlin', it's already morning.”

She looked up at the sky. “It's still dark.”

“The steer don't tell time by the darkness of the sky.”

“How do they tell time?”

He opened the back door. “Do you really want to know?”

Oddly enough, she did. “Yes.” She let herself be led through the kitchen.

“By their inner clock… probably their hunger.” He pulled her toward the stairs and she willingly followed. “We have one too.” Putting his finger to his lips, he whispered, “Right now mine says it's time to hit the hay, but I may have some energy left for a little early morning lovin'.”

She felt the smile blossoming from the inside out. “Promises, promises.”

He yanked her against him and swept her into his arms. “Get ready to ride, darlin'.”

Dylan put his shoulder to his bedroom door and gave it a nudge with the heel of his boot to close it. The soft snick of the latch closing seemed to satisfy him. He knelt on the bed and placed Ronnie in the middle. His movements were slow and deliberate.

Where was the flash, the frenzied movements she'd grown accustomed to? “Dylan are you—”

He leaned over her and brushed his lips across hers lightly, gently. “Let's try something different.”

Her heart began to pound. “Different how?” She remembered the night he lassoed her and hoped he wasn't into really tying her up; she wasn't sure she'd be into bondage.

He must have seen the worry in her eyes because he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her with a reverence she'd never experienced. “I want to take my time. I want to savor your sweetness.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out, only a strangled moan of pleasure as his lips brushed feather-light kisses on her cheek and chin before beginning a journey that led him to the base of her throat.

He was destroying her, fueling the fires of passion by taking his time. “Dylan, I—”

His lips silenced her again. “Let me love you, darlin'.”

How could she refuse?

He lifted her up and pulled the T-shirt over her head, revealing the sheer chemise. Instead of taking that off too, he pressed his lips to her heart and kissed her. The warmth of his mouth created a moist pocket of air beneath the fabric.

She shivered.

He groaned.

He moved to her breast and suckled her through the fabric. The rasp of sheer, damp voile had her belly fluttering. When he switched to the other breast, her inner muscles started twitching.

“Dylan—”

Again, he answered her with his mouth. His supremely talented mouth set off a trail of sparks leading from her breastbone to her belly. She sucked in a breath when he swept aside the fabric and nipped her hipbone.

Grabbing ahold of him, she tried to bring him back up to her breasts.

Reading her body and the tension in her limbs, he lifted his head and rasped, “We can save what I had in mind for another time. There's plenty of territory to conquer without getting to your honey-sweet center.”

“It's just that I—”

He shifted so he could press his lips to hers. “Do you trust me?”

She felt the tension leaving her by degrees. She nodded.

***

“Excellent.” He took the same path as before, sampling and savoring her along the way. He didn't want to force her too fast too soon. He needed to build her trust in him so that she'd offer him everything he wanted: all of her.

He'd worry about the whys and wherefores later. Right now, he had uncharted territory to cover. He could get really close to her honey without actually sipping from her sweetness.

And he intended to get as close as she'd let him.

“Easy,” he soothed as he traced the rim around the dip of her belly button, eliciting another shiver of pleasure from the woman he worshipped with his mouth and tongue.

Need filled him, the need to show her tenderness and passion instead of the raw, unbridled lust he'd shown her up until now. He slid his hands slowly up her sides, testing the fullness of her breasts, cupping them, before bending to swirl his tongue around their rose-tinted peaks, amazed at how quickly they pearled beneath his attention.

Her lips lifted upward and her head tilted back as she arched toward his touch, seeking more. Dylan dug deep to control the urge to devour and found he had the capacity to give more.

He shifted his hands so they lifted her up until she was dependent upon him to hold her right where she wanted to be: on the receiving end of his full undivided attention. The color of her eyes deepened to emerald. He didn't have the words to tell her all that he was feeling, all that he wanted her to feel, but he could show her.

He brought her closer and suckled her left breast, then slid his tongue across the valley between her breasts before suckling the other, lavishing it with equal attention. Her short, sharp panting breaths told him more than words. His woman wanted him, needed him as much as he needed her. He
loved
her.

Dylan released her breast as his mouth opened in shock. His head spun as his breath clogged in his lungs, and his heart beat double time. He couldn't possibly love her. The word love wasn't in his vocabulary, hadn't been since the day he and his brothers laid their mother to rest beside their father.

But Ronnie didn't notice his turmoil; she was still clinging to him like a burr on a horse's hide. When she called out his name, he knew he couldn't just stop. He'd shown her he could be gentle with her, that he cherished her.
Damn.
It wasn't too soon. A man didn't want to cherish a woman he planned to mattress dance with; he cherished the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

She's the one.

'Bout time you woke up and smelled the coffee, Son.

His rumble of laughter had her easing back from him, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he bent his head and fitted his mouth to hers, molding her lips with his. His traced the lush shape of her lips with his tongue, encouraged when her soft moan allowed him to stroke the velvet softness of her mouth and tangle his tongue with hers.

When she pressed her hands against his chest and tried to push back, he eased his hold, wondering what was wrong.

“You're killing me,” she rasped before pulling his head back down so she could reach his lips. When her teeth nipped his bottom lip, it was his turn to groan.