Fortune's June Bride (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Fortunes of Texas: Cowboy Country, Book 6) (12 page)

Her blood, pooling low in her midriff, rushed throughout her limbs, heating the surface of her skin while the rasp of his zipper sounded loudly in the room. He sat down again only briefly, to pull off his boots and let them drop onto the floor even more loudly. Socks followed, and then he stood again and pushed off his jeans and the dark gray boxer briefs he wore beneath.

She almost wished then that she hadn’t been such a stickler about her shoes, because she felt like the world tipped a little on its axis, and she actually had to reach out and steady herself with a hand on the table behind her. She was a rancher’s daughter, for crying out loud. She’d even had a lover, albeit briefly before he’d thrown her over for her roommate.

What was it, then, about
this
man, that so completely undid her?

He raised a sardonic eyebrow when all she did was stand there, transfixed. “Satisfied?”

“Um.” She swallowed.

He smiled faintly. Indulgently. “I’m not.” He closed his hands over her hips and pulled her against him and absorbed her gasp in his kiss. “Keep your shoes on, then,” he murmured when his lips finally slid away. “Maybe next time, I’ll keep my boots on.”

Next time?
The thought was headier than any alcohol could have ever been.

His lips brushed over her jaw. The side of her neck and his palm found her breast. “You still have the same bedroom?”

Of course. She hadn’t visited the house he now lived in until the previous day, but he’d often been at hers. Always with her brother. She even had the same full-size bed, though the movie posters and girlish furnishings had mercifully fallen by the wayside in favor of more adult tastes. “Yes.”

He immediately took her hand and pulled her up the narrow staircase that led from the kitchen to the second floor. Even though it was dark up there, he didn’t need a light, turning accurately on the landing toward the two bedrooms at one end, opposite of where her parents’ room was situated.

She had a vague thought about the clothing they’d left strewn about on the kitchen floor, but that thought fled the second they entered her bedroom and he pressed her against the wall just inside the door. “Where were we? That’s right.” His hands found her breasts, his thumbs circling the rigid peaks in a maddening way. “Here.”

She thrust her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth to hers.
“Here.”

She could feel the curve of a smile on his lips as they pressed against hers. “Whatever the lady wants.”

She finally pulled her foot from her shoe and ran it up the back of his calf. “She wants you.”

He went still for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

She tasted his throat and wanted to hum from pleasure. “Very. Very sure.”

He groaned a little, opening his mouth hungrily over hers. His hands burned down her thighs and he lifted her right out of her other shoe, pivoting smoothly to press her down on the bed. The ancient mattress sank and the even older bedsprings squawked. He laughed softly. “I’m glad your parents are gone and the nearest neighbors are two miles away.”

She pressed her forehead into the crook between his neck and shoulder, loving the heat and scent of him almost as much as the weight of him on top of her. She blindly swiped her hand against the pillows crowding them, knocking them out of the way, and not caring when she heard something fall off her nightstand. “Stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hand slid between her thighs finding her wet center, and she groaned, grabbing handfuls of bedding to keep from launching into space. “That better?”

She arched against him, shuddering, and his mouth latched onto her nipple, scraping it lightly with his teeth. She gasped and reached between them, guiding him home. “That better?”

His answer was a harsh breath as he sank into her, and she cried out his name. And then there were no more challenges. No more blink-first moments.

There was only him, filling every fiber of her being as he drove them headlong into perfection.

* * *

She woke to the smell of coffee, and for a minute, confusion reigned.

But the second she rolled over, realizing she was naked and the bedding was barely hanging on to the mattress, it all came back.

She hadn’t been dreaming again about making love with Galen.

Making love with him this time had been exquisitely real.

She clutched the sheet to her chest and sat up, wincing a little.

“Sore?”

She flushed and looked at Galen, who’d appeared in the doorway. He wore only his jeans and was carrying two coffee mugs. Ordinarily, coffee was her first priority of each day.

The way he looked, though, made her rethink that practice. If she saw him like that every day for the rest of her life, she would never tire of the view.

Which was a thought she knew she shouldn’t be having.

She pushed her hair out of her face. There was usually a windup alarm clock on her nightstand, along with a few books from the Vicker’s Corners Public Library and a box of tissues. But everything had been knocked off the stand and she flushed harder, remembering just how that had occurred. “What time is it?” The sun was shining brighter around the edges of her window curtains than it should have been.

“Almost nine.”

“Nine!” Horrified, she scrambled off the bed, dragging the sheet with her just as she’d seen countless times in movies and television shows.

Reality, though, had her promptly tripping right over her tangled feet, and she landed on her face on the mattress with an ignominious bounce.

“What are you trying to do?” Galen’s voice was mild. His eyes though, were laughing.

“Retain some dignity,” she muttered, yanking the sheet back over her bare rear end.

His amusement reached his lips and he strolled into the room. He set the coffee mugs on the nightstand and when he sat, the springs squeaked again and the mattress dipped under his weight. Helped along with gravity, when he tugged on the sheet, she rolled with it toward him. “I liked that view,” he murmured, pushing the white cotton sheet aside to run his hand over her bare thigh where he’d discovered one of her patches of freckles.

Before they’d finally been done for the night, he’d even turned on a light and to her blushing, panting delight, thoroughly examined all of them. More than once.

Even now, his fingers dipped between her thighs, grazing her hypersensitive flesh. “I like the touch even more,” he murmured.

She exhaled shakily. “Me, too.”

Galen leaned down on his other arm. There was a tender squeezing inside his chest he wasn’t accustomed to. Making love with Aurora was a feast for every sense he possessed. “Not too sore?”

She turned her head against the mattress and her eyes, bluer than the Texas sky, met his. “No.”

He studied her intently, looking for her tells. There was only one this time, though, and it was the brightening of the freckles sprinkled across her nose. “Liar.”

“You keep doing what you’re doing—” her words were throaty “—and I’ll quickly forget.”

Sounded good to him, and he slid his fingers through her slick moisture, loving the way her pupils dilated and her lips parted.

“Your face is so expressive,” he murmured, leaning down a little more, but never taking away his intimate touch. “You smile and it shows in your whole body.” He delved deeper, discovering that if he pressed here, she whimpered softly, and if he stroked there, she shuddered sweetly. “And when I do this—” he circled the tiny knot of nerves and watched her eyes flutter “—I can feel it in your whole body.”

“Galen—”

He shushed her softly. “Just this. Let me do just this.”

Her lips parted and her legs moved restlessly, but he simply dropped his thigh over the back of hers, holding her still. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his whole palm against her, rocking her gently, knowing just that moment when she tipped over the edge because color bloomed over her entire body and her hands fisted around the sheet and she moaned his name as she convulsed against his fingers.

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, before turning on her side and reaching for him.

And even though it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to pull off his jeans again and drown in her sweetness, he didn’t.

He caught her hand in his and kissed her knuckles instead. “You’re sore,” he reminded softly.

“But—”

“And we’ve got chores to do.” He lightly smacked her flank. “So stop lazing around, woman.”

Before he fell to temptation despite his better intentions, he pushed off the bed and grabbed one of the coffee mugs. “Drink up.” He handed it to her. “We’ll take care of things here, then head to my place. Two able bodies are better than one, and if we’re fast, we’ll manage to get the necessities taken care of before we have to get to Cowboy Country.”

She sat up, looking like a red-haired Aphrodite rising from a sea of white sheets. “And after that?”

He smiled slowly, and because he possessed only so much resistance, he bent over her and brushed his lips slowly against hers. “My bed’s a king,” he murmured when he straightened again. “And it doesn’t squeak.”

Chapter Ten

“H
ey.” Galen stood on the outside of the changing screen. “You going to be done soon?” The last show of the day was done and he and Aurora were alone in the wardrobe trailer, because everyone else had already left. Aurora, though, was being uncommonly slow.

So much so, that he wondered if he was alone in wanting to get her...alone.

They hadn’t talked about what had happened between them during the past twelve hours. Not that he was anxious to. But it seemed as if that’s what women always wanted to do. Talk.

That morning, though, after she’d pulled on old jeans, boots and a T-shirt, she hadn’t seemed inclined to talk about anything other than the chores they’d dashed through at her place, then his, just to get to Cowboy Country in time for the noon show.

“You all right back there?”

From the other side of the screen, he heard her huff. “I need help.” She poked her head around the side. Seeing nobody but him, the rest of her followed. She lifted her left arm to show that the side of the dress was partly opened, revealing a slice of creamy skin. “The zipper’s stuck.”

She had a quartet of pale freckles on the underside of her sleekly muscled arm. If he kissed her there again, she’d giggle, because she was ticklish. If he kissed her where the dress was parted, she’d make that sighing sound she made, and they’d end up being even later getting home.

Safer to stick to the freckles than the side of her breast that was partially visible. “There’s a zipper?”

“Obviously.” She tugged at the fabric where it was parted. “Right here. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but—”

He leaned closer to see. The zipper. The freckles. The soft, smooth skin. Personally, he knew which was the
least
interesting. “But...?”

She lowered her arm a bit. “Someone keeps distracting me.”

“Is that a complaint?” He trailed his fingertip over the pale freckles and she shivered, yanking her arm down.

“Don’t tickle!”

“Don’t be so tempting.” He pushed up her arm again and managed to catch the zipper pull between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t just nearly invisible, but minuscule as well, and try or not try, his knuckles pressed against her breast. “And I think—” he attempted moving the zipper pull both up and down and failed “—you’re stuck.”

She smiled wryly. “Well, I already knew that.”

“I thought this dress fastened up the back. You know, with these laces.” He tugged on the silky cords that crisscrossed down her spine.

She peered around her arm at him again. “Disappointed?”

He laughed softly. “Doesn’t matter to me what you’re wearing. It’s the same you underneath whether you’re wearing beads and lace or T-shirt and jeans.” And if he slipped his hand through the gap where the zipper was partially undone, he could fill his hand with
her
.

But just because the trailer was empty at the moment, didn’t mean it would stay that way.

So he tugged again at the zipper, and again, it didn’t budge. “Thing’s not moving. Can you rub some bar soap on it or something? That’s what my mom always does with stuck zippers.”

“That’s a thought.” She lowered her arm. “I’m just going to have to wear it home, I guess. Figure a way to get out of the thing so I can fix it before tomorrow.” She slipped behind the screen for a moment and came out again with a bundle of clothing in her arms. The old-fashioned boots of her costume had been replaced by her flip-flops. “I can’t cut through the park wearing the dress.”

“So we’ll walk around the long way.” He angled his head, eyeing her, then grabbed his Rusty shirt off the hanger. “Put this on, though.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Nobody can see the zipper underneath my arm.” But she took the shirt anyway and pulled it over her shoulders. The sleeves hung past her hands and the shirttail nearly reached her knee. She gestured at the wall mirror. “I look ridiculous.”

“I was thinking you looked damn cute.”

She ducked her head quickly and reached for the door, but he still saw the shaky smile she tried to hide as he followed her down the metal steps.

They took the circuitous backstage route around the park to the employee lot and as soon as he opened his truck door for her, she pulled off the oversize shirt before climbing inside. “Too hot outside still for this dress and your shirt.”

“It has been hot.” He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side. “Bet Hollow Springs is getting plenty of use these days.” The swimming hole was Horseback Hollow’s hidden gem.

“Imagine so.” She rolled down her window as they drove out of the lot. “I remember you and Mark used to go there a lot.”

“Everyone in our high school class went there a lot.” The swimming hole was backdropped by red rock cliffs and a waterfall. Mostly accessible on horseback, it had always been a natural draw for Horseback Hollow residents. “I still hope it manages to stay under the radar with all the tourists coming to visit Cowboy Country.”

“You said that a lot when you were arguing against it opening.”

“Wasn’t arguing. I was just stating an opinion.”

She lifted her hand peaceably. “Okay.”

“Would
you
want a bunch of strangers tramping up there, polluting things with their monster coolers, trash and noise?”

She sent him a sideways look. “I am
sure
you guys didn’t go up there with sketch pads to draw the local flora and fauna. You took beer. And snacks.”

“Not always beer,” he defended.

“Maybe not. But how is it any different between what you guys used to do up there and what somebody from...Skokie...might do up there now? If they even found their way there, that is?”

“Just is.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “Whatever you say.” She hung her hand out the window, turning it against the wind as he picked up speed. “When’s the last time you went out there?”

“Not since last summer. You?”

“Years.” She was silent for a moment. “Not since before Mark died.”

“Because the cemetery’s out that way?”

Aurora should have expected the question. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t, except that when she was with Galen, she didn’t think much about anything but Galen. “Because I’m not particularly keen on swimming,” she lied.

“I remember otherwise.”

She shot him a look.

“You think I don’t remember the way sometimes you tagged along with Mark?”

“Only because Mama made him take me.”

“You were like a skinny little redheaded fish. Couldn’t get you out of the water once you were in. And then when you finally did get out, ’cause it was time to go home, you pouted.”

“I did not.”

He lifted his hand as though he was swearing an oath. “Truth.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine.” She looked out the window again, enjoying the feel of the air blowing over her. “I used to like swimming out there.” Primarily because, back then, she’d wanted to do anything her big brother had been doing. And as she got a little older, because there was always the likelihood that Galen would be around. “I had a terrible crush.”

“Pardon?”

She flushed, realizing she’d spoken the words aloud. What was
wrong
with her? “Nothing.”

But he was eyeing her, his strong wrist hanging over the top of the steering wheel and his long middle finger tapping the dash on the other side. “You had a crush on...who?”

Mortified, she stared down her nose at him. For all the good it did. “Nobody.”

He smiled faintly. “We should ride out there on Sunday.”

“To Hollow Springs?” She fiddled with one of the wood-like buttons on the front of his Rusty shirt that she held folded on her lap. “Sounds nice.”

He reached across the console between their seats and dragged his finger through the partially opened zipper under her arm.

She shivered and clamped her arm down. “Don’t
tickle me
!”

His grin flashed. “I know one thing. You’re gonna look a mite different in a swimsuit these days than you did back then.”

So would he.

He’d been unreasonably handsome as a teenager. But now he was a man. A ruggedly handsome, broad-shouldered, hardworking, ranching man.

“I’m not even sure I have a swimsuit anymore.” She suddenly lifted her finger to point at him. “And I am
not
skinny-dipping.”

“Ever?”

“There’ll be a couple dozen people there on a hot Sunday afternoon. Neither one of us will be skinny-dipping. Unless you fancy getting picked up by the sheriff’s department for public indecency.”

His grin flashed again. “Can’t blame a guy for his fantasies.”

She turned her face to the wind, wishing it were cooler so there was some chance of it dousing the heat in her cheeks. “Being publicly indecent?”

He laughed softly. “Chicken.”

She bit back her own smile. “Yup.” They’d reached the highway, but instead of slowing as they neared her turnoff, his speed stayed steady.

Which had her wanting to smile all over again because they were obviously going to
his.

He hadn’t done a single thing differently during their performances that day. Rusty’s passionate clinch with Lila still hadn’t involved locking lips. Which, considering everything, had left her doubting that he’d really meant what he’d said that morning about his king-size bed.

Soon he was slowing, though, and turned up the graded road to his place. He parked around the rear as usual, and not until they were heading up the back porch did she stop to think that she was still stuck inside Lila’s wedding dress. If the bar-of-soap trick didn’t work, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of the thing, short of scissors. “I don’t suppose you have a needle and thread.” She held out the sides of her dress. “In case I have to have you cut me out of this thing.”

He pushed open the back door and reached inside to flip on the mudroom light. “I’ve got a sewing kit around somewhere. Ma’s doing.” He turned back to her and suddenly swept her off her feet.

She gaped. “What are you doing?”

“Why, Lila,” he drawled, “what d’you think I’m doing?”

She giggled as he carried her over the threshold. “Oh,
Rusty
. You’re my hero.”

He chuckled and plopped her on top of the white washing machine sitting next to the big refrigerator. He opened a storage cupboard next to that, pulled out a paper-wrapped bar of soap and turned back to her. “Let’s get that dress off you.”

She obediently lifted her arm. “Sweet-talker.”

He ran the edge of the bar over the zipper, above and below the pull, and even managed to work it down the inside of her zipper, though she had to completely pull her arms out of the lace shoulder band for him to manage it.

“What’s this?” The second he touched the gold chain hanging between her breasts, she remembered that she’d also strung his drugstore ring on it that afternoon before their first show.

“Lila wouldn’t wear a ring like that,” she managed blithely. She had one arm crossed over her bare breasts, which was kind of silly, she supposed, now that he’d already seen, touched and tasted nearly every inch of her. “But I figured I’d be inviting the Roselyn-devil back if I didn’t keep it handy.” It was a blatant lie. But how else could she explain her unwillingness to toss the ring aside when she hadn’t wanted to take it in the first place?

“Superstitious?” He smiled slightly as nudged her arm higher, and away from her breasts as he tested the zipper before going to work again with the soap. “She doesn’t have any reason to come back.”

“One hopes.” She would have felt foolish sitting there with her dress pulled down below her breasts, but stuck in place over her rib cage, if it weren’t for the way his heated eyes kept straying away from the task at hand. Instead, she was only increasingly impatient for him to finish the job. She was awash with need, practically squirming where she sat on top of the washing machine. “Hurry up.”

“What do you want me to do?” He lifted a brow, though his innocent look didn’t fool her for a second. He knew exactly the torment he was causing, and was enjoying it. “Tear it?”

“Tempting.” She managed to push the soap out of his hand and pulled his palm to her bare, tight breasts. The flare of surprise on his face was worth the boldness, and she looped her hand behind his neck, pulling his head to hers. “Just kiss me already.”

He stepped closer and brushed his mouth over hers. “You’re suddenly getting very demanding.”

She could feel his smile against her lips. “You have no idea.” She reached down his spine and gathered the fabric of his T-shirt in her fingers and pulled upward.

He laughed softly and let her yank the thing up and off his head. “Keep this up and you’re not gonna get out of that dress and we’re not gonna get outta the laundry room.”

She didn’t care. She was ravenous for him. “You never kiss me onstage.” She pulled his head back to hers and ran her lips along his jaw. He needed a shave, and the rough razor stubble tickled her lips. “Why?”

“’Cause I’m not an actor.” He caught her face between his hands. His dark gaze was anchored on her lips. “I’m not Rusty kissing Lila. I’m Galen kissing Aurora. And I don’t want an audience of hundreds at Cowboy Country for that.”

Something sweet squeezed inside her, even more enticing than the desire flooding her. “We don’t have an audience now,” she whispered.

“No.” He brought his lips to hers. Rubbing. Nibbling. Teasing, until she was nearly whimpering for more.

And then finally, oh, finally, he tired of toying and kissed her in earnest, and when he pulled back the next time, they were both breathless and her hands trembled as she fumbled with his belt.

“That’s not the zipper we were supposed to get down.”

She took almost indecent pleasure in the sound of his belt slithering out of his belt loops when she pulled on it. “Are you objecting?”

In answer, he pushed his hands through her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail holder and letting it fall around her shoulders. She knew men were visual creatures, and there was something electrifying about knowing Galen looked at her and liked—
liked—
what he saw.

Then his mouth was on hers again while his hands delved beneath her dress, divesting her of her panties while she hastily shoved his jeans aside, and she cried out when he thrillingly claimed her, right then and there in his laundry room.