Second Hope Cowboy (9 page)

Sliding his finger out of her opening, he pushed away, hovering above her. He stared down at her plump lips that needed attention. He brought his mouth down and their tongues met in a duel of need, a dance of desire. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her close as she scraped her nails down his back.

“Hold on a second, baby.” He stood up, practically tore his jeans from his legs and threw them across the room. He heard a ding and then a crash. He didn’t even look to see what he’d broken. He didn’t care. The only thing he focused on was the woman lying on his bed, inviting him to thrust into her body.

She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, and pumped her hand along the length. He reached into the bedside table and grabbed a foil packet. Their gazes met as he ripped it open and fixed the thin sheath across his erection.

Placing his knees on the edge of the bed, he leaned above her, gazes still connected. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“More than you will ever understand.”

There was more to her meaning than the simple answer, but he didn’t have time to dissect her meaning. He couldn’t wait another second. He lowered himself against her, guiding himself to her center, and slid deep into her moist passage. Her womanly perfume tickled his senses and he knew that was her natural smell. A woman like Hope didn’t need cologne or flowery scents to hide her dessert-like smell.

Her arms enclosed his body and her knees came up along his hips, giving him deeper access to every part of her. He plunged in and out, pounding her flesh.

“Yes, Tucker, yes!” Her voice filled the recesses of the cloud surrounding them.

He moved faster. And faster. Harder. Deeper. She dug her fingers deep into his skin as her pussy tightened around him, quivering and pulsating. She brought her hips up against his, meeting him push for push. They were grasping at each other. He rubbed his hand along her breasts, molding her flesh, gripping her hips. She licked his nipples, took each flat bud into her mouth and gave each one attention until he moaned from the pleasure that ripped through him, landing like a heavy weight in his groin.

She screamed out. “I’m there!”

“Yes, baby!” He gripped her tight ass and drew her closer. Feeling her body tense.

Knowing she’d reached her plateau sent him flying over the cliff. Sensation began at his toes and oozed like maple syrup upward through his veins, lodging in his balls and growing like a raging fire until it exploded, sending beads of pleasure throughout him. He wanted to yell, he wanted to pound the backboard—but instead he dragged Hope closer, nuzzling his nose against her neck. “You will be the death of me.”

CHAPTER SIX
 

Long after Tucker had fallen asleep and his even breathing was the only sound in the dark room, Hope lay awake, nestled in the warm, secure curve of his arm. Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away.

Her tears weren’t from sadness. Something far more dangerous loomed. She was overcome with a feeling of being home.

This couldn’t happen. She’d left for a reason.

Loss had driven them apart.

She thought back to the one night after a fundraising event. They’d come home and had an argument over something meaningless. After they’d yelled and slammed a few doors, they’d ended up in a heated frenzy in bed. Pent-up energy had surged between them like a whirlwind, old feelings flying and anger releasing.

It was a new beginning between them. They’d agreed to let go of all the hurt feelings of losing a baby. They’d even agreed to not getting pregnant again. They were working hard in their careers and would concentrate on their marriage.

Then she’d gotten pregnant again, without Tucker’s knowledge.

Hope clutched the edge of the sheet as she remembered how excited and scared she’d been.

After going over her choices, she’d decided not tell Tucker—not just yet. Keeping it hidden from him hadn’t been easy, but the pain of seeing him hurt again would have been too much to endure.

Three months had passed. She was almost past the first trimester, and it was time to have an ultrasound. She was hopeful that the pregnancy would be viable—they could have a child together. All of their wishes and dreams would come true.

The night before her doctor’s visit, she wanted to tell him. They’d gone to dinner together, they’d laughed and times were good again. The ocean of distance had shrunk. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the baby but had plans to tell him the right way.

They came home late and she’d gone to the bathroom to slip into something sexy. She found that she was bleeding. And she’d been to this position enough to realize it was like all of the other times.

Telling him hadn’t been an option. She’d made an excuse that she was feeling tired and she’d gone to bed. Once he’d fallen asleep, she’d done the hardest thing she’d ever had to do in her life.

Packing a small suitcase, not caring what she’d grabbed, she’d tossed her life away—but she could have never gone back to the detachment, the anger and hurt again.

After a week, he’d stopped calling. The texts became less. Two months had passed and he no longer attempted to reach her.

Talking to him would have diminished her reserve. She’d have gone back, but she believed he deserved better.

Her body wouldn’t allow her to carry a child, and he wanted a family. He’d always talked of having a son by his side on the land. And a girl he could spoil rotten—a girl like his little niece Becca.

She reminded herself that love came with sacrifices. Sometimes one person had to take the higher road to give the gift of happiness.

Tucker seemed to be standing still as life passed him by. Her plan had failed. Here they were, back in each other’s arms again.

He shifted and his hand brushed against her side, but he still slept. She didn’t want this moment to ever end, but yet she knew it would.

She’d have to leave again. She knew that he wouldn’t fight for her to stay.

And she wouldn’t allow him to convince her.

They would never see each other again after her car was fixed.

Overwhelmed with the weight of what would come, she could no longer hold her tears. They slipped from her eyes and fell to his chest.

Sacrifice was never easy.

****

Tucker awoke and he felt something warm in the crook of his arm. He inhaled sharply.
Hope.
She was snuggled in the curve of his shoulder, her wild hair spread across the pillow and she was lightly snoring.

He smiled.

But it soon fizzled.

His heart grew heavy.

He carefully slipped his arm out from underneath her neck, quietly getting out of bed. He scanned the room, found his jeans and yanked them on while he examined the broken lamp lying in the middle of the floor. Picking up the shards of glass, he left the room—he needed to pull himself together, put the wall back into place.

Dumping the glass into the trash, he practically ripped his hand through his hair. He didn’t care that prickles warned him he’d torn out hair at the roots. The feeling matched the one in his chest. The old roots were being tugged.

Life wasn’t always fair. Life sucked at times. He wished he could tear into his chest and rip out the source of emotions for Hope.

There was no winning here. She would leave. He’d let her. They’d part and never see each other again, because there would be no reason to.

She’d probably marry the doc and live happily ever after in a palace fit for a rich man and his wife.

Tucker’s wife
.

He’d never stopped thinking of Hope in this way.

Wasn’t it enough that she’d moved on?

It was time he took a huge step in the right direction, and that meant letting go.

Why didn’t his heart agree with his mind? They seemed to be battling over right and wrong.

What if he didn’t want to let go? What if he felt the sliver of chance that they could still be in each other’s life?

He’d never been a quitter.

In the kitchen, he prepared the coffeemaker, hit start and the machine gurgled. He needed caffeine. He had to rein in control over his heart, forget the history he shared with Hope.

He’d go back to Brooke Creek and watch the Brooke brothers and their wives fall in love more and more each day. Watch their family grow as Dillon and Peyton and Dante and April welcomed their children into their lives…and soon Deckland and Elsa. She’d announced recently that they were having a baby too.

Scrubbing the layer of beard on his chin, he sighed. Hell, he didn’t think he belonged at Brooke Creek any longer. He thought of the Brooke family as his friends and he didn’t begrudge anyone’s happiness, but seeing it every day could be compared to having his face smacked with reality—a reality where he’d lost his love, his ranch and his home. He had no one to blame but himself.

Dragging a chair from the table, he took a seat.

He hadn’t tried hard enough to get Hope back. Deep in his gut he’d known she still loved him, and he’d never stopped loving her.

Later, he’d abandoned his home, Havens Ranch. A cowboy never gave up his land. And for what? Misery loomed over him like a dark cloud.

The coffeemaker beeped and he got up to pour himself a cup. His phone rang from the table and he glanced at the caller ID. Hinshaw. He picked the phone up, cradled it in his palm and started to hit talk, but his finger paused over the button. His buddy Hinshaw had made Hope’s car a priority. When Tucker had asked for the favor, he’d been sure he needed Hope out of his life, pronto. Now, he couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling.

The phone stopped ringing and the notification light blinked. Hinshaw had left a message.

Sighing, he listened to Hinshaw’s brief voice mail.

Tucker hit the off button and dropped the phone into his front pocket. Just as he’d suspected, her car was done.

He took a deep breath. It hurt to even breathe.

Could he manage to prolong the inevitable for a few days?

“Was that about my car?”

He swiveled on his heel, not realizing Hope was up and standing in the doorway, watching him. She looked sexy with her hair tousled from their lovemaking and her face flushed. And damn! She wore his shirt—his favorite one. Poison boiled through his veins. He could easily forget they were divorced.

He had to stay focused.

She’d leave and he’d be okay.

He didn’t believe it for one second.

Hiding the truth wouldn’t work either. If she wanted to leave, he had to let her.

“Yes, your car is fixed and ready to hit the road. It probably doesn’t look the best, but you can get the body fixed when you’re back in the city.” Her cheeks flamed. Was she disappointed? Hell, he was probably imagining things—seeing what he hoped to see. He could feel a crack in his heart open wider.

“Great.” Her smile looked plastic.

He teetered on insanity. His mind spun like a tornado. And then before he even debated his words, they burst forward. “I have an opportunity for you.”

Her brows curved and she wrapped her arms around her waist, sending the hem of the shirt gliding higher on her thighs. “You do?”

“Do you still want the house?” His voice shook and he hoped she didn’t catch it. Anticipation filled the narrow cave of his chest.

She blinked. “Uh…yes, of course. Are you agreeing to give it to me?”

“Not quite. At least not yet.” He stepped across the short distance but didn’t touch her. If he did, she’d be in his arms and he’d be stripping his shirt from her beautiful body.

She nibbled her bottom lip and her gaze twinkled. “Okay, then what?”

“How about a cup of coffee and then we’ll talk?” He was stalling, but he needed a good minute or two to prepare his prospect, to make the offer sweeter.

“I could use a cup.” She went to the table and sat in his chair.

He made them each a cup, his black and hers with milk and sugar. He handed it to her and she offered him a cautious smile.

Once he was seated, half of his coffee gone, he realized she was watching him in anticipation. “I realize how much you loved the house at Havens. It must have meant a lot for you to come here, to ask for it.”

“That’s right.” She rolled her short fingernail along the rim of her cup. Her nails were a perfect shade of pink, making him wonder if she’d polished them or it was natural. She tightened her fingers around the cup, her knuckles turning white under her skin. He liked her hands, especially on his body…

He shook his head, dragging his thoughts back to the table.
Just get this over with, pal.

“I’m willing to hand over the deed to the house on one condition.”

Her mouth thinned. “A condition?” Her voice quivered.

“If you agree to move into the house with me, and we live there together.”

She jerked and the coffee splashed over the rim of the cup and onto the table. “I-I…did I hear correctly?”

“Yes.” He scrubbed his jaw.

“Explain what you mean.” Her face turned pale.