Protecting the Dream (3 page)

She could have interpreted the gentle way he held her hand as innocent, if half of her brain cells had suddenly stopped functioning. Since she was hyperaware of the determination rolling off of him, she braced for the storm. “You’re twisting my words to make it sound like I’m using you for sex. That is
not
what I meant and you know it.”

He chuckled and whipped her around, stripped her torn shirt and bra down her shoulders, creating a fairly effective trap for her arms. “I haven’t twisted anything.” He pulled her against his chest. One arm banded around her waist, the other hand moved to her breast again.

“Twisting your words was never required. You were very clear about what you want.”

God, yes, I want your hands on me. Doing that again and again.

It didn’t take a shrink to know they needed to step back and talk things through. But desire and guilt were weaving a powerful cocktail.

Deceptively gentle, he grazed his lips along her neck while moving his fingers in light teasing circles around her nipples. The smooth strokes lulled her until he surprised her with a sharp tweak. The quick zing of pain made her breath catch. Shamefully caving, she dropped her head back against his shoulder while cursing her utter lack of immunity to him.

“If you want to deny what this is between us, I’ll give you all the time you need,” he whispered against her ear. “But we belong together, and you know it.”

He continued the full-on assault of her breasts. It was possible her knees would buckle at any moment. Then he skimmed his fingers down her torso, but he didn’t stop with that. He opened the button of her jeans and pushed them below her hips. One hand slid inside the waistband of her panties and cupped her. The other moved back to her breast and continued the pleasurable teasing there.

“God,” she cried when his fingers pierced her wet heat.

He worked her fast and hard, electrifying nerves, caressing her to aching, making her cries and moans echo off the empty walls of the room. Then he eased off, leaving her mindless and craving.

She shifted her hips to give him better access.

Instead he moved his hands to her shirt and bra and peeled them slowly down her arms.

Naked from the waist up, she turned to face him. “Ty, please,” she whispered in the quiet room. She didn’t want to think about their future or the house or anything else, just the quick and desperate release he was more than capable of delivering.

While edging her closer to the bed, he slid her pants low enough for her to kick them off. He eased her back onto the soft comforter, shed his pants and crawled onto the bed, pausing to hover over her. In the glow of burning firelight, he peered down with a devastating combination of desire and determination.

“Tell me . . .” he murmured, urging her legs open, using the thick head of his penis to stroke nerves already clinging to a jagged edge. “Does this feel like sex?” His breath hissed out as he pushed, just barely, into her. “Or maybe something more?”

Something more
may have been the understatement of a lifetime. He’d been more than her system could handle from the first day she’d met him.

One blinding drive and her nerve endings fired double time. “Jesus, cowboy.”
She cried out against the deep, consuming pleasure of his big body plunging into hers.

His tongue traced her ear.

His fingers twisted in her hair.

Deep, quick thrusts continued to send shock waves screaming through her system.

Holy fuck, the trifecta of sensation had every hot spot on her body flaming. Tyler McGee controlled her like a puppet dangling from his wicked strings.

Her vision went dark. Maybe from her lids closing. Or maybe simply from her eyes rolling back into her head. A deep pulse in her core began to thrum in that moment of absolute nirvana right before the free fall.

He stilled, lowered his lips to hers, and even with her eyes closed, Jordan tasted the tenderness that had hot tears escaping. He’d won this round—game, set, match. She could lie to herself and for the most part believe it. But not when they were like this. Not when he was everything and everywhere—inside her, around her, the best part of anything meaningful in her life.

When he moved again, he rocked them both with long, slow, deliberate strokes. Drawing out the pleasure, stretching her hair-thin thread of control beyond any reasonable limit.
Oh God
. She wanted the sensations to go on forever, but her body was simply overwhelmed. She let go, moaned his name, and clamped around him in violent little pulses.

His muscles tightened to stone as he poured into her with a wild tremble. Spent, he fell utterly lax on top of her.

Unwilling to lose their connection, she held him in place by clenching her fingers into his very fine ass. She loved the spent weight of his body, the pressure, the heat. Loved that she could relay with a touch the emotions she never could say with words.

She dug her nails in tighter when he shifted to ease off of her. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin. “I need to move, babe. You can’t breathe.”

“Everybody’s got to die from something,” she whispered. “This works for me.”

He snickered again. “Haven’t you traumatized me enough for one day?”

Even though he was joking, a guilty ache tightened across her chest. She had no idea what road they were headed down, but it was clear they’d ventured far enough that turning back was no longer an option. Blowing off what they’d come to mean to each other suddenly felt extraordinarily selfish. She slowly opened her eyes.

He raised his head and looked down at her.

Emotion nearly strangled her breath. She pulled a hand free and traced a finger over his soft, soft lips. “I don’t have a single doubt about loving you, but the thought of losing you scares me to death.” She swallowed, fought against the noose around her throat to give him the truth he deserved. “I survive by always preparing for the worst, thinking maybe it won’t kill me when you come to your senses and leave. If we move in together and it doesn’t work out . . . I don’t want to have to come back from that.”

The words were out before logic and reason told her to shut the hell up.

Ty’s breath heaved out. Those stormy gray eyes searched hers. She’d rendered him speechless. His mouth had opened, but no words came out. Finally, he dropped his forehead against hers. On a shaky breath he said, “Wow, baby. You managed to say all that without turning to stone. How did that admission feel?”

“Actually, it sucked. So don’t get used to all the touchy-feely crap. It makes me feel like an idiot.”

He chuckled and moved off her before pulling her back against his chest. As good as the sex was, it was this moment, spooned against him, that would be hardest to live without.

Crap, the epiphany struck from out of nowhere—she was one of those pain-in-the-ass girly-girls who liked to snuggle. The realization half way pissed her off. She sighed heavily.

“Problem?” he murmured against her neck.

“Do you ever think I’m too girly or too needy?”

He snorted a laugh. Then did it a second time. “Yeah, baby. Every time you whip out your gun or tell someone to fuck off, I think,
ah, there’s my delicate little flower.
”

She whipped her elbow into his ribs. “Ass-wipe.”

He grunted. “See what I mean?”

He stayed wrapped around her for several minutes before she whispered, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said. “This isn’t a marriage proposal, but I don’t want to come home to an empty place when I could come home to you. And why should both of us pay rent when we’re usually together anyhow?”

It
had
been nice to come home to him the last couple of months. She sniffled, desperately trying to pull off something that resembled composure. “So living together would be . . . cost effective?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It’s really the only reason I suggested it. I’ve figured out all the numbers. I even have a spreadsheet if you want to see it.” His voice was laced with humor. “But I’m not gonna lie, your cooking sucks, so I had to factor in a pretty hefty eating-out sum in the expense column. But I still think we’ll come out ahead.”

She laughed, rolled over to face him, and poked him in the stomach with one finger. “I could learn to cook.”

“Of course you can, baby,” he teased. “We’ll schedule that class right after your knitting lesson.”

She laughed again and wondered how he could make her feel so good and terrify her right down to her marrow at the same time. “I’ve haven’t lived with anyone since I got out of the foster system. There’ll be times when I need space. It’s not personal, it’s just how I’m built.”

“Well . . .” He blew out a breath. “It’s a pretty big house on a pretty big farm. I’m sure we can set you up a no-man zone if you need one. Plus our work schedules aren’t exactly normal. I have a feeling we’ll both have a good amount of alone time.” He traced circles over her hip, finally settling his hand on the curve of her butt. “And maybe this house isn’t the best place for us.”

“But maybe it is.” She rolled over and nestled her back against him again. Felt him stir when her ass wedged against his groin. No two ways about it, curled in bed next to a roaring fire with a man like Tyler McGee was one pretty sweet deal. Was there anywhere in the world she’d rather be? Even the thought of a Caribbean beach paled in comparison.

“It
would
be a lot harder to have a useful no-man zone in a small apartment. At least here I could banish you out to the barn or claim a couple of these extra bedrooms for an office or something.”

He squeezed his arms tight around her. “I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for.”

Was she ready for this? Could she live with him? Could he live with
her
when her dreams kicked in full force? “Okay, we’ll spend a few days here, look around, sketch out a game plan and see if this could ever work.”

She felt his smile against her shoulder.

“Thank you.” He softly skimmed his tongue up her neck and kissed her ear. “Jordan . . .”

“Yes, Ty?”

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Ty?” She whispered back at him.

“What, baby?”

“You still owe me a beach vacation.”

***

Jordan felt the firm grip of Ty’s fingers clenched around her wrist. He tugged her along the wide, open field, barely giving her time to catch her breath. She stumbled, trying to keep up.

“It’s ours, all ours,” he said.

The gloriously bright blue sky blinded her as he picked her up and twirled her around. When her feet returned to the ground, his soft lips came down on hers. Tenderness flowed through her in warm, soothing waves.

He stepped back, and she raised a hand above her eyes to shield against the blinding light of the sun. The man smiled at her, but he wasn’t Ty. He was built like Ty—tall, with a muscular chest. And his wavy hair, the color of decadent dark chocolate, moved handsomely in the breeze, just like Ty’s.

But he wasn’t Ty.

“I know it’s hard to see now,” the man said, “but the house will go right here.” He turned and pointed in the opposite direction. “And the stable over there. We’ll clear all of that brush for the paddock and breed the best-looking horses in Missouri. In all the Midwest.” He winked at her. “And our kids won’t be too shabby looking, either.”

The man stepped close again. “All our dreams, all our hopes, I’ll make each and every one come true. Just for you. Only for you.” His piercing blue eyes heated with carnal desire.

Confused when he stepped close, Jordan pressed her hands against his chest to hold him at bay. She gasped on a sharp inhale—those weren’t her hands. At least they didn’t look like her hands. A woman should know the back of her own hand, right? Jordan flexed her fingers and turned them slowly to study them. These were definitely not her fingers and not her nails. Not any more than the man standing before her was Ty.

She spun, examining her surroundings. This was the land Ty wanted to buy, but nothing was the same. It was barren. Nothing as far as the eye could see in any direction. Where was the big old farm house? Where was the barn and the training arena next to it? And where was Ty?

“Make me the happiest man in the world and say yes. Please,” the man begged. “I love you so much, Ellie.” He dropped to one knee and dug into a pocket of his denim shirt.

Who was Ellie? In spite of her confusion, Jordan felt her throat swell and her heart race. She looked into the man’s eyes and felt a blistering connection sear her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Sucking in a shaky breath, she spun again, searching for Ty.

Ty was the only man in her life. The only man who’d ever been able to twist her up with a simple glance. Now a stranger knelt before her, placing a ring on her finger—a finger she didn’t recognize—and calling her a name that wasn’t hers.

“Help me, Ty!” she called out. But the words came out sounding like “I love you, too.”

The man stood and pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. Jordan fought at first, but the lips and the tongue and the hands . . . No one had hands like Ty. It had to be Ty kissing her, had to be . . .