Her Risk To Take (3 page)

He was so screwed.

He pulled back and dealt with the condom. Grabbed another from a box inside the drawer. They weren’t even his. He assumed Ryan had used this place to bring back women before Cal had moved in this summer. The sell-by-date was good though. He’d checked. Talk about optimistic.

“For a moment, I thought you were going to run away…” He heard a smile in her voice; he also heard the uncertainty.
She
should be running away. Fast and furious.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing here, besides the obvious. There was no way he could give her anything except a little pleasure. But he couldn’t tell her that. No way could he hurt her. The thought of putting disappointment in this woman’s eyes made his gut ache. She was the single smartest, hardest-working person he’d ever met. That included every cowboy, rancher, lumberjack, farmer or goddamned cop on the planet. She never stopped. Either at the hospital, here at the ranch, or helping take care of her niece and the family. She never took a vacation. Never dated. Didn’t have time to date. Damn. No wonder she was horny.

He could give her this. As long as no one knew, as long as she didn’t become a target.

He wanted to turn on the lamp but didn’t want her looking at him, seeing his tattoos, a constant reminder of what he’d done and where he’d been. Of the kind of man he really was. He didn’t want to watch desire fade to revulsion. He pulled the curtain open and let the moon light up the room with a faint silver glow. She lay on the bed, legs spread, hair in a messy cloud on the covers as she looked at him. Not even vaguely self-conscious or shy.

Not what he’d expected.

A smile curved her lips, and he had to shake his head to prove he really wasn’t dreaming. Maybe someone had slipped something in his beer? Whatever it was, he’d happily buy a lifetime’s supply.

They’d have to keep this a secret. They lived in the middle of nowhere, isolated and secluded. No one had to know. She didn’t need to be tainted by association as long as they kept this between the two of them. He picked up her foot and kissed the inside of her ankle. She jolted. He’d forgotten she was ticklish. He trailed his mouth up her limbs. She was small, perfect. Slim, curved, beautiful, naked and,
god
, really here. His blood started pounding again, but it was more incredible this time, because he knew it was real, it was actually happening. She’d come to him. He’d never expected her to, but she’d come to him, and he was torn between wanting to yell his happiness to the world and sending her away so none of his tarnish rubbed off on her.

Her eyes were a cool blue-gray in the daylight, but right now they were dark as midnight as she watched him come closer and closer to a part of her body he wanted to taste.

She leaned up on her elbows to watch as he dipped his tongue along the sensitive skin at the seam of her leg. His skin was dark against the pure white of hers. The scent of her filled his nostrils and blew his mind. The taste of her flooded his mouth, and he knew he’d never get the essence out of his head. It would drive him crazy forever, just knowing her flavor. The thought had him sinking his tongue deeper, loving her, teasing her, pressing against her clit until her jaw dropped, her head fell back, and she gasped. “Oh, God. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t intend to.

Not yet.

He shifted her up the bed until her knees were draped over his shoulders, and he was eating her up with small bites and licks until she began trembling on the edge of release. He wanted to torment her for hours, but her hands crept between his legs, and she found him again, her fingers strong and agile—knowledgeable. His eyes crossed, and he almost came on the spot.

She was nothing like he’d imagined. She was infinitely more.

He lay her down and explored further, sweeping her bellybutton with his tongue before moving higher to feast on her breasts. He cupped and licked, watching her nipples tighten in the moonlight. Her hips undulated as her hands stroked him. He wished they could do this forever. Didn’t want to think about why they couldn’t.

She grabbed the condom from wherever he’d dropped it. Ripped it and rolled it over him with practiced fingers.

“You’ve done that before,” he said.

She cocked a brow at what had to be jealousy darkening his tone. “Every time I’ve ever had sex, Cal. I do not want to be up on that pedestal. It’s a cold and lonely place up there. I’m a flesh and blood woman like any other and want a flesh and blood man to keep me warm. Think you can deal with that?”

It was cold down in the gutter too, and maybe for right now they could just enjoy the moment.

“The idea of another man touching you…” He closed his mouth. The thought of Sarah with anyone else made him crazy, but that admission gave away too much about how he truly felt. One day she was going to fall for and marry some other guy. He’d have to deal with it then, but he didn’t have to deal with it now. Instead, he pushed against her, working his way inside, filling her until she gasped and clutched, those fingers digging urgently into his backside. She squirmed around him, and it felt amazing.

“Enough?” he asked.

“No. No!”

He drove forward until he was planted to the hilt, surrounded by wet molten heat that made him want to weep. They were face to face, his eyes lined up with her eyes. His lips lined up with her lips.

He’d never kissed her.

This was the second time he’d been inside her, but he hadn’t kissed her yet—not properly. He stopped moving, dipped his head, and his heart shattered when she rose up to meet him, kissing him gently, reverently, like he was special. He kissed her back, keeping it light, exploring, committing her shape and taste to memory. She started moving her hips, urging him on, but he was stubborn and slowed it right down until she was as languid as melted wax, and then he finally started moving again. Slowly, surely, driving her up, increasing the pace, making her cry out, making her beg before he finally let her fly. And he was right there with her, soaring off the edge of the cliff into darkness, knowing he was going to crash and burn, but not willing to swap this moment for anything this side of heaven.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

And in that moment, he didn’t care.

One month later…

S
arah was entranced
by the patterns of ink that snaked from Cal’s elbow down to his wrist. He’d had the tattoos professionally redone not long ago, no color, just dark indigo against suntanned skin. She wasn’t exactly sure what the tattoos were of, because he refused to let her see them up close. At some point during the night she’d left the light on in the bathroom and now it filtered through, and she could make out scales, talons, and possibly a fish on his left arm.

It was early. He was asleep—exhausted after hours of lovemaking. Sometimes it was as if they were trying to make up for all the years they’d missed. Other times it was as if they were cramming a lifetime of loving into a few short weeks.

She’d come to his bed every chance she’d got over the past month. There were moments when she thought he was going to turn her away, but he hadn’t done so yet. He was getting a little less reserved around her, starting to trust her more, but he still wasn’t willing to bring their relationship out into the open. Like most cowboys Cal was stubborn, and like most horses he could be led, but he sure as heck couldn’t be pushed. Patience and persistence were what she needed, and she had both in spades. She leaned closer to trail her lips over the prominent bone at his wrist and worked her way up his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

“Enjoying your tattoos.”

He tried to jerk his arm out of reach, but she stopped him.

“Please don’t. I want to see.”

His lips pinched together but after a long, tense moment he capitulated and held his arms stiff at his side. As relaxed as one of the ranch dogs on the scent of a rabbit. She sat up and dragged his arm across her lap. “What’s this?” The lighting still wasn’t great, and it was hard to make out.

Cal’s gaze wandered, and he seemed to be having a hard time concentrating on her question, probably because she was naked. She stroked one sinuous rope of blue scales that coiled around his flesh. She followed the trail with her fingers and raised his arm to see that it ended in an arrowhead tail.

He cleared his throat. “It’s the dragon’s tail.”

“Dragon?” She was surprised. She hadn’t imagined practical Cal Landon would have something as mythical as a dragon etched on his skin.

“What’s wrong with a dragon?” he asked in a low growl.

She laughed and found the dragon’s head. It was a fierce looking creature. She kissed it and moved on to explore what looked like carp in a pool beneath the mountains. “Did you do the design yourself?”

“Me?” He gave a slight smile. “Stick men are the limit of my artistic abilities.” He cocked a brow. “This time I left it to the professionals.” He tried to pull away, but she held tight, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She knew it was hard for him to let people in, but she wanted him to know he could trust her.

“They’re beautiful, Cal.”

“I got them to replace the ones I got in prison.” His tone was hard with self-recrimination in case she hadn’t got the reference the first go around.

She held his gaze. “I liked those ones too.”

He blinked.

“What? Why wouldn’t I like them?” She was naked in his bed, and he still had this holier-than-thou image of her. Crazy. “You know what else those tattoos are? They’re
hot
.”

His eyes widened as she trailed his arm over her thigh. She knew she was shocking him but figured he deserved it for treating her like she might faint at the least little reminder of his past. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known him before he’d gone to jail, and all these years afterward. She wasn’t some death-row groupie. She was a smart intelligent woman. She decided to shock him further. “I always wanted a tattoo, but couldn’t decide exactly what I wanted…or where I wanted it. Maybe here?” She touched her outer thigh with his warm hand. “Or here?” She shifted until he was touching her somewhere much more intimate. She laughed as he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. One way or another she was going to knock down this cowboy’s walls and make him lose his reserve. Maybe then he’d finally understand that she loved every damn inch of him, tattoos, past, and all.

*     *     *

Cal slept in
so he skipped breakfast. He didn’t want the horses to go hungry.

Being late was getting to be a habit, one he wasn’t proud of. He’d add that sucker to the list. Sarah had been coming to the cottage most nights for the past month, so neither of them had been getting much sleep. He kept intending to tell her to stay away. Had braced himself that second night to be aloof and unwelcoming, until she’d taken off her coat and revealed she was stark naked underneath.

Resistance had proved futile.

He didn’t want people finding out she was slumming. But the woman was like opium and once he’d tasted her he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About them. Together.

He shook his head. There was no
them
. She was…
delusional
. It was the only word that came to mind.

He finished putting feed into Shadow’s bucket. He’d already let her two foals out into the attached paddock to give them some exercise and the mare some peace from exuberant male children. She’d adopted Little Red after his mother died during a foaling gone wrong last spring. The memory still made Cal alternate between pissed and heartbroken. The mare had died needlessly, and Nat had been forced to deliver the foal by improvised caesarian. He ran his hand down Shadow’s cheek, and she rubbed her head against his shoulder. She’d be weaning the foals soon. Her son, Silk, wasn’t a pure-bred Arabian like Red, but he was gorgeous American Morgan and seemed to have a calming influence on the high-strung aristocrat with his pure Egyptian bloodlines and nose for trouble. They’d probably keep both colts, although Cal figured Silk would be lucky to keep his crown jewels. Only so many stallions the ranch could handle—even though they were starting to make a success of the stud business.

They’d made plans to build a small lab, and Nat was investigating specialized equipment for freezing and storing sperm, maybe even developing a cryogenic storage facility for other peoples’ stallions and prize bulls. Considering the Sullivans had almost lost this place back in the spring, it was a damned miracle they were still up and running—a miracle that had come about thanks to Eliza.

He heard a noise outside and knew the contractors building the new indoor arena had shown up. He usually tried to be done and out on the land by the time they rolled up in the morning—not hard considering they generally didn’t arrive until after ten. But Eliza had been on their case to get the concrete foundations poured before it got too damned cold. Frankly, not many men argued with Eliza—except maybe Nat. He was a brave man.

He heard voices as someone came into the stables—Eliza, then a low rumble as Nat teased her about something. Laughter turned into a squeak as Nat presumably pulled her in for a kiss and then as the silence lengthened, Cal clanged the bucket quietly against the wall, not wanting to interrupt anything too intimate between a man and his wife.