Gentling the Cowboy (18 page)

Familiarity normally lessened his desire. Sarah was different. The more he was with her, the more he wanted to be. He hoped to God six days would be enough to change that. For now, he had another fantasy to address. “The games won’t be here until tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure I have some rope around here somewhere.”

Instead of looking nervous as he’d expected, she said, “I’ve always wanted to tie a man to a bed and have my way with him.”

He shook his head. “I’d never let that happen.”

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Is that a dare?”

He tried to look down at her sternly, but the evidence of his arousal sprung to life between them, making it difficult to argue that the idea had no appeal to him. “It’s a fact.”

Sarah leaned forward until her nipples brushed his chest. She took his throbbing dick in one hand and caressed it while she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. “I’ve always dreamed of being in control just once. I’d rub my body all over you and take things at a slow pace. Instead of enjoying your hands on me, I’d lick every inch of your body. I’d take you in my mouth and bring you to the brink and then, only then, I’d let you taste me. They say that a postponed orgasm is a stronger one. I’d test that theory. I’d bring you close again and again, taking my orgasms but delaying yours until you couldn’t take it anymore. You’d threaten me, beg me, want to drag me on top of you, but still I’d make you wait. Then, when we’re both in a place where neither of us could wait a second longer, I’d lower myself on your . . .” she paused over her word choice, and he smiled despite how excited she’d made him.

“Cock,” he suggested. “You’d lower yourself on my cock.”

Her hand tightened on him and she echoed the word in a whisper. “Cock.”

The mixture of innocence and siren drove him wild. He jerked and almost came in her hand, cursing that he could be so close so soon. “I’ll go get the rope,” he said in a rush, stumbling a bit as he stepped back from her. She’d done it again, bulldozed through what he considered a nonnegotiable line in the sand.

Some things were worth keeping an open mind about, though.

And he was sure there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t agree with him.

A few days later, Sarah catnapped beside Tony on the couch, snuggled beneath a light comforter. Time was passing too quickly—a blur of showering together between games they often didn’t finish because one of them lost patience and leaned in for a heated kiss that would lead them both astray.

Although Sarah had left her notebook in the car, she knew when she returned to it, her writing would be stronger. Plus, she wasn’t worried that she would forget the wonder of one kiss, one touch, or a single moment they’d spent together.

Not even the unexpected revelations.

Even days filled with passion and laughter can be enhanced by the use of a toothbrush and a dash of deodorant. I’ll leave that tidbit out of my romance. No one will want to hear about how fast the heroine’s leg stubble can grow or that unsuccessful attempts to pretend she can cook may lead to a condition called, “The nervous fart that must be held in at all costs.”

If romances were a bit more realistic, I may have looked less maniacal about the latter discovery.

One definite perk of remaining unpredictable with Tony was that he didn’t question her need to do a naked, solo, outdoor lap around the house before they had sex the night before. She’d waited for him to ask, but he hadn’t.

Smart man.

She closed her eyes and chuckled as she remembered the contents of the care package Carl had left along with the supplies they’d ordered: a huge box of condoms, all the fixings to make an ice-cream sundae except the ice cream, and vitamins. She and Tony had burst out laughing at the sight of the last item, but decided not to question the wisdom of a self-proclaimed expert.

When she opened her eyes, she found Tony watching her.

“What do you do for your parents’ business?” he asked, surprising her. They had avoided personal questions since their talk near the stream.

“I file, bill people, set up appointments.”

“You like it?”

“I hate it.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who would tolerate doing something you didn’t like for very long.”

“You’d be surprised. But I’m working on that. That’s what this trip is about—figuring out what I really want.”

“And then you’ll go home.” It was a statement, not a question.

Not if you ask me to stay.
“Maybe, maybe not.”

“A woman like you would never be happy out here.”

A woman like me?
His words stung like a slap. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He held up her perfectly manicured nails, running his work-roughened thumb over the soft palm of her hand. “You don’t have a callus on you, do you?”

She snatched her hand away. “I didn’t know they were a prerequisite to visiting Texas.”

“Don’t get all riled up by an observation.”

“Then don’t try to tell me where I could or couldn’t be happy. A callus or lack of one doesn’t mean a thing.”

“I’ve seen your horse.”

She huffed. “What’s wrong with my horse?”

“Probably nothing where you come from. But most people down here don’t put glitter on hooves and bows in manes.”

“So the extra time I take grooming my horse is proof that I wouldn’t fit in here?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He sighed. “It’s just a different way of looking at things.”

“You think it’s better to not even know the name of the horse you ride?”

“I know my horses.”

“Do you? I never hear you talk about them. I can’t believe you can have all those horses and not love one.”

“No need to get attached to something that’s not staying.”

Like me?
Sarah thought with a shudder. She countered with more emotion than she knew the topic called for. “What a sad way to live.”

Tony looked up at the ceiling, shifting so he could tuck an arm beneath his head. “Not sad, just practical.”

Sarah moved so that she was above him, blocking his view. “Look me in the eye and tell me you never had a horse you were attached to.”

For a moment he looked cornered, angry. His whole body tensed, but she didn’t back down, she just raised her eyebrows and waited.

“I had a mare when I was twelve. My dad had gotten her for free from someone who couldn’t handle her. He’d hoped to train her a bit and sell her for a profit, but he couldn’t stay on her long enough to teach her anything.”

Sarah laid a hand on Tony’s chest, felt the heavy thud of his heart, and knew from the tension in him that she’d stumbled on another of his scars. “But you rode her?”

He nodded. “I did. She taught me about patience and how to listen to a horse. I hit the dirt a lot that summer before we worked things out.”

“What happened to her?”

“My father sold her.” His even tone might have fooled others, but Sarah heard what he didn’t allow himself to say.

“Even though you wanted her.”

Tony looked her in the eye and said harshly, “It was the right thing to do. We needed the money, not an animal we couldn’t afford to feed.”

“Where did she end up?” Sarah asked softly.

“I don’t know. My dad left me to do chores while he took her to auction.”

Sarah’s heart broke for him, but she kept the depth of her response to herself. There was too much more she wanted to know to risk shutting the conversation down. “What was her name?”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, “Missy. She was nothing special, just a grade horse, a mixed-breed for sure.”

“But you loved her.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Do you ever take in troubled horses now?” she asked.

There was that wall again. She felt him withdraw emotionally even before he answered. “I don’t have time for other people’s problems.”

Sarah looked into his eyes, past his irritation with her questions, and saw the hurt he tried to conceal from her. He was afraid to care about a horse that wasn’t his. He didn’t want to love and lose again. She felt compelled to show him how it could be.

She laid her head upon his chest and said, “I know you don’t think much of Scooter, but I’ve had him for seven years, and he’s part of me. There were times when he was the only part I liked. I let guilt hold me down. I let my life get smaller and smaller until it nearly suffocated me, but whenever I would take Scooter out on the trails behind the barn we would run. He’s so smooth it felt like we were flying. And for just a few minutes, I was free and anything was possible.” She peered up at him and admitted, “You make me feel the same way.”

She could have sworn that he’d looked down at her in agreement, but the moment passed and his expression turned to a scowl. “I suppose it’s a compliment that I’m on level with your horse.”

Sarah pinched him lightly. “He’s easier to get along with, though, so sometimes he ranks higher.”

In one strong move, Tony rolled over on top of Sarah. “Is that so? Well, let’s see what I can do to improve my standing a bit.”

Loving the feel of his arousal growing against her stomach, Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck eagerly and joked, “Standing, sitting, rolling around on the floor—I’ve enjoyed all of your ideas so far.”

“That’s good,” he said between hot kisses to her neck, “because I can’t get enough of you.”

Even as her body began to hum with desire for him, her mind raced at his words.
Could this be it? Is Tony the man I’m meant to be with?

Is this how forever starts?

Tony moved his attention lower to brush his lips tenderly across the tips of her breasts and Sarah buried both her hands in his hair.

If so, I’m all in.

On the sixth day, during the third hour, Sarah rolled over to face him in their bed. He smiled warmly at her and her heart filled with worry. They hadn’t talked about what would happen next. Neither had mentioned their self-imposed time limit on their paradise.

I thought I was done hiding, but is that what we’ve done all week?

Our lives haven’t changed. Everything is the same back there—in reality.

Why did I give myself six more days of him?

Five more than I needed to know there was no avoiding this heartbreak. Like a movie where you know how it ends but you can’t stop watching.

What if this is it? We go home and it’s over?

Why did I think more time together would make things better?

“It’s Tuesday,” she said sadly, waiting for the reassurance she needed.

“I know,” he replied, his jaw tight and his expression guarded for the first time since she’d practically dragged him back into his own cabin.

Worry turned to panic.
No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
“I don’t want to go back,” she admitted hoarsely.

He didn’t say anything, but she saw the torment in his eyes before he lowered his lids to conceal it from her.

Give me something,
she pleaded silently.
Anything to hold onto.

I’ll go first, if that’s what it takes.
“I never knew it could be like this,” she said.

“You got your research for your book, then,” he said blandly, dismissively.

Quick, hot anger filled her.
Bastard.
“Is that how this will end? You become an asshole again?”

“I’m the same man you came here with, Sarah. I haven’t changed.” He met her gaze coolly.

She wanted to shake him, hit him, force him to admit he cared. Instead, she said, “Would it be so bad if you did? Can’t you give us a chance?”

You’re so close. I know how hard it is to face the past, but I’ve done it and you want to. And when you do, you’ll see how we were sent to help each other. I’ve never believed anything more strongly.

“I told you that I have nothing more than this to offer you.”

I don’t believe you mean that.
“So, what now? Do you want me to leave as soon as we return?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want to. Most people do.” He turned away and gathered his clothing.

Sarah would have thrown something at his head if she’d had anything to throw. Instead, she pulled the sheet around herself and went to gather her own clothing. Wordlessly, they gathered the toiletries they’d brought into the cabin and took them back to her vehicle.

He chose the driver’s seat, and nothing about the tense set of his jaw and the way he refused to look her in the eye implied the ride home would at all mirror the ride there. They had driven about halfway back when Sarah could no longer keep her thoughts to herself.

Staring straight ahead, Sarah said quietly, “Sometimes I think you’re the man I’ve waited my whole life to meet. You’re gorgeous, you’re great in bed, and you have a tortured side that helps me feel less alone in my own hell. We could be more than lovers, we could be friends, too. I feel safe when I’m in your arms. But then, sometimes, like now, I wonder if I’m completely wrong and you’re nothing more than a coward.”

Red spread up his neck and across his face, but he didn’t snap back at her as she’d expected him to—half hoped he would. She was afraid of losing him, but his silence was proof that he was already gone.

She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Shit happens, Tony. You can’t let guilt destroy your life. We both have to live with what we’ve done. No, we can’t bring them back, but there has to be something we can do—some way to heal. I’m going to find that something. When you stop feeling so sorry for yourself, maybe you should do the same.”

In my novel, this is where the hero will melt, take the heroine in his arms, and beg for forgiveness. He won’t stare at the road ahead pretending he didn’t hear her, once again demonstrating why fiction trumps reality any day.

When they pulled into the driveway, Sarah could no longer hold her tears back. She let out a sob as she fumbled for the door handle. He reached across her to open it, then kept his arm in front of her as he said, “I’m sorry, Sarah.”