Red-Hot Texas Nights (26 page)

She focused her complete attention on adding a tiny bit more flour until the dough reached the perfect consistency to work with.

“It looks good.”

The deep voice stirred the hair on the back of her neck and sent a jolt of awareness through her. Her hands trembled and the flour pitched forward into the mixer. The beaters stirred and a cloud of white dust hit her in the face.

Tyler's deep chuckle sent tingled through her body. “I didn't realize a faceful of flour was part of the recipe for a good crust.” He reached out and wiped a smudge from one cheek. The feel of his skin against hers sent a jolt of heat straight to her nipples.

“Very funny.” She turned and reached for a dish towel. “Do you always sneak up on people?” After wiping at her face, she slapped at the sprinkle of white clouding her apron.

His eyes twinkled and his sensuous mouth crooked. “So.” He glanced around. “Where did you learn how to do all of this?”

“My mom.” The words were out before she could stop them. This wasn't about having a conversation. It was about getting to the good stuff. The physical stuff. “She loved to bake. She won a bunch of contests when she was young. She even placed in the national Pillsbury Bake-Off. She could have gone on to have her own bakery. That was the plan, at least. But then she met my dad and started having kids and she got too busy raising us to even think of opening her own place. She still baked at home and she taught me, and now I'm living the dream for the both of us.” She caught his stare. “What about you? How did you get into bull riding?”

He shrugged. “I used to hang out at the arena and watch my cousin Brett. He made it look so easy and I figured why not try?” He shook his head.

“Easy, huh?”

“Okay, so maybe he just made it look appealing. He was the king when he was on top of that bull. A Sawyer through and through, and I guess I wanted to prove that I was just as much a Sawyer as he was.”

“But you
are
a Sawyer.”

“And you're a Tucker.” His grin was slow and wicked and her heart skipped a beat. “Hey, maybe I should get my shotgun.”

Before she could stop herself, she popped him with the dish towel and his grin faded into a look of pure shock. “What was that for?”

“In case you haven't heard, we Tuckers don't like you Sawyers all that much,” she said, turning back to wipe the sides of the mixer. She finished up and set the dish towel aside before hitting the
ON
button again. “You're the enemy,” she said with a wealth of conviction. He was the enemy. But not because of his last name.

Rather, he threatened her peace of mind. Her future.

She turned then and her gaze caught his. Understanding gleamed so hot and bright in his eyes and a sudden rush of warmth went through her. A feeling that had nothing to do with the lust that burned between them and everything to do with the fact that while Tyler McCall might be her enemy, and she was his, as well, he still felt more for her than he wanted to admit, and it scared him.

Yeah, right.

She tossed the dough onto a slice of plastic wrap and secured the edges before popping it into the refrigerator to chill. “So we're doing apple, huh?” she asked as she turned back to him.

He arched an eyebrow and his mouth hinted at a grin. “Is there any other kind of pie?”

His expression was infectious and she couldn't help but smile. “Oh, I don't know. I'm a big chocolate fan, myself.” She grabbed the bowl of Granny Smiths and started to core and peel.

“Chocolate's good. But warm, gooey, spiced apples?” He made a
mmm-mmm
sound. “There's nothing better.”

“Nothing, huh?”

“Well, maybe one thing,” Tyler's deep voice whispered into her ears as he came up behind her. “I do have a hankering for blueberries, too.” One hand slid around her waist while the other closed over hers.

“You don't have to do this.”
What the hell?
a voice whispered. This was exactly what he needed to do. To get them off the topic of baking and bull riding, and back onto the real reason they'd agreed to spend time together—sex.

She knew that. But her heart beat double time anyway, as if there was much more at stake than getting busy in her kitchen.

The fingertips that held her frantic grip on the apple peeler slid down until his thumb massaged the inside of her palm. The heat started at the tips of her toes, traveling upward until her cheeks burned. Air lodged in her chest and she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

“It's nice, smooth strokes, right?” Tyler murmured, the words little more than a breathless whisper against the sensitive shell of her ear. He held her hand as he slid the peeler over the edge of the Granny Smith in one fluid motion. “Like this?”

She wanted to say yes, but she couldn't seem to find the words.

She became instantly aware of his hard male body flush against hers, her bottom nestled in the cradle of his thighs. His erection pressed into her, leaving no doubt that he was turned on.

Extremely so.

Her mouth tingled and she had the insane urge to turn into the warm lips nuzzling her ear.

A perfectly natural reaction given the situation. A perfectly physical reaction.

Yet there was more at stake at the moment.

She felt it in the double tap of her heart. In the strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Both physical reactions.

The thing was, she'd never felt either with any man before. She'd never wanted to feel anything. To turn into her mother.

To lose her dream. Herself.

No man was worth that.

Not even
this
man.

Her
man.

The thought struck and before she could drop-kick it out of her mind, she turned.

And then she wasn't just thinking about kissing him, she was actually leaning forward, sliding her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to his.

 

CHAPTER 34

She was kissing him.

Tyler felt a split second of panic as her lips parted. Her tongue touched, swirled, and teased. She didn't hold anything back.

Which meant he should have taken the lead and put on the brakes right then and there. This wasn't about sex. It was about like. About spending time together and figuring out if she felt even half of what he did. Just for his own peace of mind. To fill up those long, lonely nights when he was far, far away from Rebel.

At the same time, there was something desperate about her touch. As if this kiss meant more than all the others they'd shared over the past few days.

The thought intoxicated him even more than the sweet taste of her lips. He planted one hand on the back of her head, tilted her face to the side, and kissed her thoroughly. Deeply.

He nibbled her bottom lip and explored the interior of her mouth. When he couldn't breathe, he slid his lips across her cheek and along her jaw. His mouth slipped to the side of her neck and he pushed her hair down her back. She smelled of apples and sugar, and warm, feminine skin. He breathed her in for a long, heart-pounding moment and closed his eyes. He thought of all the things he wanted to do with her.

Everything.

He ached to see her soapy and wet in his shower. Naked and panting against his sheets. Smiling and laughing across the breakfast table—

He killed the last thought and concentrated on the lust that rolled through him like a ball of fire that dive-bombed straight to his dick. He edged her sideways until they were clear of the apples and pie fixings, then bent her back over the countertop and captured her lips again.

He fed off her mouth for several long moments, tasting and savoring, before nibbling his way down the sexy column of her throat.

His cock throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep from shoving his zipper down, parting her legs, and plunging fast and deep inside her hot, tight body.

Now. Right. Friggin'.
Now.

He wouldn't.

He didn't want just sex anymore. He wanted to know that she felt something more.

Love?

Hell, he was the last person to even know what love was. He'd never been in love. He'd spent his younger years barely surviving, and his teenage years trying to do more than just survive. He'd never had time for anything more than sex.

He didn't have time for it now.

But he wanted it.

Not that he wanted her to fall madly in love with him or anything bat-shit crazy like that. He just wanted to know that she at least felt
something
for him. Something that might make her as reluctant to see him leave as he was to go.

Not mind-changing or anything that extreme. Just a little regretful. And that meant slowing down enough to give her time to feel. To think. To long for him the way he longed for her.

He stiffened against the desire slamming through him and concentrated on the small cry that bubbled from her lips when he licked her pulse beat. He liked pleasing her, so he held tight to his control and paced himself. With each touch of his lips, she made some sort of sound. A sigh. A gasp. A cry that fed the need whirling through him and cheered him on.

When he reached the neckline of her shirt, he traced the edge where her skin met the material with his tongue. Her breathy moan was his reward and he smiled against her flushed skin. He unfastened the apron tied around her neck. The material gave and slipped to her waist until she was wearing nothing but the signature hot-pink T-shirt of Sweet Somethings. He trailed his fingertips over the soft fabric, tracing the goodies underneath—her rib cage, the undersides of her luscious breasts, the indentation of her belly button.

He slid his hands down, tugging the ends of the cotton free of her shorts and plunging underneath until he felt bare skin. Heat zapped him like a live wire and his pulse jumped. He touched the lace of her bra, tracing a path to the luscious plumpness of her breasts at the edge. A quick tug on the front clasp and her breasts spilled free.

Grabbing her sweet round ass, he lifted her, hoisting her onto the countertop. He stepped between her legs, pulled the T-shirt up and over her head, and caught one ripe nipple between his lips. He suckled her and she arched against him.

He pushed her back down, still sucking as he tugged at the button of her shorts and shoved the zipper down. She wiggled and the shorts sagged on her thighs.

He slid a finger inside the edge of her panties, straight into her slick folds, and her body bucked. He plunged another finger inside, wiggling and teasing and testing.

He wanted to feel every steamy secret. Even more, he wanted to taste her.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he worked his way down, kissing and teasing and tasting until he reached her hot-pink panties. He glanced up and his gaze caught hers for a brief moment as he pushed the panties down her hips, her legs, until the shorts hit the ground and the scrap of lace soon followed. Then he dipped his head.

He licked the very tip of her clit with his tongue and she shuddered. She opened wider, an invitation that he couldn't resist. He trailed his tongue over her clit and down the slit before dipping it inside.

She was warm and sweet and more addictive than her prize-winning apple pie. Hunger gripped him hard and fast. He sucked on the swollen nub and plunged his tongue inside until her entire body went stiff.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured. He gripped her thighs and held her tight. “Let go.”

A few more licks and she did just that.

A cry rumbled from her throat and tremors racked her body. He drank her in, savoring her essence until her body stilled.

He pulled away and stared down at her.

“Please. Just do it. Do it now,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her face flushed. Her chest rose and fell to a frantic rhythm that made his groin throb and his entire body ache. She was so beautiful. So damn sweet. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted any woman.

But even more, he wanted her to want him more than she'd ever wanted any other man.

He needed the truth of that to warm him on all the cold nights to come.

“I think the apples are turning brown.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. “What?”

He took a huge drink of oxygen and forced his hands away from her. “The peeled apples. We need to do something with them before they turn brown.”

“Apples? You're worried about the pie?” Her gaze swiveled toward the forgotten fruit.

“Oh, no.” Her cheeks fired a brighter red as she reached for her T-shirt.

She dressed at the speed of light and then disappeared into the storage room as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

As if she'd just realized she'd made a big, big mistake.

“We really should let the dough chill for at least an hour and I need to pick up a few things at the Piggly Wiggly before they close,” she said when she walked out, her expression unreadable, her purse in hand. “We should do this another time.”

“Sure thing.”

“I know I said we could do it now, but I really am running low on sugar and—what did you just say?”

He winked. “If you have to leave, you have to leave.”

“That's okay with you?”

“I'd rather you stay and finish the pie, but duty calls.” He arched an eyebrow. “You can wait, can't you?”

“Um, yeah. Of course.” She turned and snatched up her keys perched on a nearby hook. “I'll just head out then.”

“Later, sugar,” he called after her.

“Don't bet on it,” she muttered under her breath, and a rush of satisfaction went through Tyler. He'd won this battle. He'd given her just enough to make her think.

Now if he could only win the war.

*   *   *

They weren't having sex.

It had been several days since the pie disaster on Saturday morning and other than a few hot kisses and some heavy petting, she wasn't any closer to working Tyler McCall out of her system. She needed the real deal for that. At least that's what she was telling herself.