Tall, Dark and Cowboy (15 page)

Shutting the suitcase, Lacey stared at it a moment, then flicked the clasps open again and frowned down at the contents.

“I forgot. I have to get some stuff from the bathroom.”

She stepped toward Chase, and he realized he was blocking her in, trapping her between the bed and the cheaply paneled wall.

“Sorry.” He backed up and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away from her so she wouldn’t feel threatened.

She stepped into the bathroom and swung the door almost closed. He could hear her in there, rattling stuff around, and his gaze fell on the suitcase and focused on a scrap of silk that flowed out of the side like water and pooled on the bed. It looked like a slip, or maybe a nightgown. He took a step toward the bed, wondering what it would look like draping softly from Lacey’s breasts, what it would feel like between his fingers.

He sat down on the end of the bed and glanced at the bathroom door again. He could still hear her rattling around, apparently pitching toiletries into a bag or something. He shifted slightly, moving closer to the suitcase, and put out his hand to touch the puddle of silk.

Soft. He pinched a fold between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the fabric slide against itself. There was something so feminine about the feel of silk. He grabbed a handful of the material and closed his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

His eyes flew open to see her standing in front of him, arms folded. Looking down at his lap, he realized he was getting pretty excited about the nightgown. He’d pulled the thing out of the suitcase and held it in his lap.

Good thing too.

“Nothing.” He shoved it back into the suitcase. “I just—nothing. I just—it was falling out of the suitcase, and I went to put it back in and it just—just wound up in my lap somehow.” He flushed, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“Chase.” She stuffed the last of her supplies into her suitcase, then whipped the nightgown out of his hands and stuffed it inside. Pressing down on the top, she skimmed the zipper around the edges. “Don’t. I can’t…”

He lifted his hand and put a finger to her lips, stopping her words. She widened her eyes, and time stopped.

Just stopped.

People said time slowed down when you were hurt, when you were in danger. They said everything ran in slow motion when fear chilled your blood. For her, time slowed down when Chase touched her, and chilling wasn’t the word for it. She felt her blood warm, heating her chest, her cheeks, but especially her lips. They felt hot and swollen where his finger rested, and she felt the rasp of his calloused finger against the pillowy cushion of her mouth. She took a breath to speak, but that would have meant moving her lips and intensifying the sensation, so she simply stared.

Big mistake. There it was again, the heart of him glowing in those dark eyes.

She jerked her head backward, and time ground slowly back into motion. Chase lowered his hand and set it on her waist. She stared down at it, barely able to hear him over an ominous rushing in her ears. Closing her eyes, she felt all the steel in her spine go soft as she leaned in and kissed him.

Oh, she hadn’t meant to do this, but it felt so
good
. His mouth was hard and firm as he tensed in surprise, but then she felt his arm sweep around her, and they were rolling, falling onto the bed in a surrender that felt mutual. They rolled over until he was the one prostrate on the mattress and she was on top, in control, straddling his hips and kissing his lips, his chin, the angle of his jaw that had hardened and defined itself in the years they’d been apart. She flicked her tongue in his ear and moved up to kiss his eyebrows, his eyelids, and then back to his lips. He let out a quick breath as she ran one hand over his chest, pausing when she hit the flat circle of his nipple and stroking down his ribs to lay a palm on the flat of his stomach. His hips pulsed, but she tensed and tightened her thighs, holding him down. He’d have what she wanted to give—nothing more.

This was
not
surrender.

***

Chase flexed his muscles and felt Lacey’s thighs tighten against him. He could easily throw her off, push her down, master her, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

What he wanted was to see what she’d do next. She was holding him down, her palms pressing into his shoulders, her lips moving back up to his as her hand gripped his T-shirt and gathered the cloth in her fist.

Lacey had always been all dimples and sweetness, her flirty smiles hinting that a man could have whatever he wanted from her, but this wasn’t the old Lacey. This was a new woman. A stronger one. He’d have thought fear would make her tremble, make her needier and softer, but instead it seemed to have given her the courage to ask for what she wanted.

She thrust her tongue in his mouth and jerked his T-shirt up to expose his chest. Hell, she wasn’t asking for anything. She was taking it.

And he was giving. He didn’t mind surrendering to her demands, as long as those demands involved licking and sucking and thrusting in a kiss that echoed what they’d shared the night before. He flexed his hips and felt her thighs spread to let him press against her, and the next thing he knew, she was tearing at his belt and the snap of his jeans, fumbling with his zipper. Tugging his Wranglers down his hips, she hauled them off and tossed them on the floor.

Oh, God, if she didn’t touch him, he’d come right now. Her hand rose to his chest and she held him down while her lips slid from his mouth to the column of his throat to his chest. She kissed her way from one side to the other, her tongue flipping over one flat nipple, then the other, then licking its way down the faint trail of hair that flecked his abs and led closer… closer…
oh, please. Closer.

When she flicked her tongue and closed her lips around him, he bucked hard against her, clenching his teeth to keep from bucking them both off the bed. He tried to think of something that would keep him from losing it before she even started. Reaching down, he plowed his fingers into her hair, sweeping the hanging curtain up so he could see her lashes lying dark against her pale cheeks. She took him deeper and opened her eyes, and he gasped and tried to pull away. The sensation was one thing; the frank intimacy of her gaze another. He couldn’t hold himself back another moment if she watched him, but she wasn’t giving in. Her gaze met his with a challenge, a demand, and he didn’t have any choice but to submit.

Damn. He’d known she was sweet. He’d known she was sexy. But he’d never really thought of Lacey as someone who was as willing to take as she was to give. He tilted his chin up and stared at the ceiling, clenching his jaw to keep from losing it.

“Lacey,” he said. “Please.”

He felt suddenly cold as her lips let him go. “What?”

Well, he might as well ask.

“Take your clothes off.”

She went still, and he opened his eyes. Had he ruined the moment by telling her what to do?

She was watching him, considering.

“Please,” he said again.

She relaxed, and a slow smile spread across her face.

“Okay. But don’t move.” She touched him with one cautious finger, and he almost lost it. “Not one move.”

She scrambled off him and shucked off her shirt, then flicked open the clasp of her bra, letting her breasts spill out. The nipples were swollen and peaked, and his fingers clenched at the thought of reaching up and letting her flesh fill his palms. But Lacey was in charge and he had the feeling she needed to stay that way. What was happening here went way beyond sex in a motel room. Lacey was redefining herself.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, flicking open the button at her waist.

He went perfectly still, not moving a muscle as she peeled off her pants and stood before him in a scrap of lace that almost passed for panties. Tugging down one side, she bit her lower lip and looked down at him, her eyes flicking downward as she took in her obviously appreciative audience. The next thing he knew, she was naked on top of him, straddling him again, her breasts brushing his chest. He started to reach for them, and she sat up, clenching her thighs around his and covering her nipples with her hands.

“No touching,” she said.

He nodded. That was about all he could do. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d let out some embarrassing masculine grunt of need and frustration.

She moved her hands down to cup her breasts and squeezed them together like an offering. He couldn’t help flexing his hands, but he kept them at his sides and watched as she swept her hands up and pinched the rosy tips between her fingers, letting her lashes drift almost shut while she squeezed and tugged and watched him lick his lips in frustration as her fingers did everything he wanted to do—pinching, squeezing, stroking. He couldn’t control himself another second. Letting out the desperate groan he’d been holding back, he lifted his hands, then remembered her words and clenched his fists, dropping them to his sides again. He closed his eyes. He had to, so he could resist reaching up to touch her while his pelvis tensed and ached with need.

“Please, Lacey. Please. Just—please.”

Rising up to her knees, she reached down and gripped him in one hand while she knelt above him, her damp curls inches away. He watched, mesmerized, as she lowered herself onto him, the moist bead at the tip of his cock meeting the slick wet heart of her for just a heartbeat before she tensed her thighs and lifted herself away. Slowly, she lowered herself again and let him slip just inside her before she pulled away again. He knew she was watching his face while he watched her slide onto him, over and over, further each time until he was deep inside her.

He felt her muscles tense and flex, and he grabbed her hips, helping her rise when she wanted to but letting her slide onto him at her own pace, feeling her warmth slip around him like a slick, hot sheath that tightened and tensed before she fell forward onto his chest and let out a shuddering, heaving breath of relief and satisfaction and everything but surrender.

Lacey blinked, feeling her lashes brush the faint stubble on Chase’s jaw. Her head was nestled in the curve between his shoulder and neck, and his arm held her curled against him. His palm cupped the crest of her hip, and his fingers splayed across the soft skin that dipped toward her stomach.

She drew in a long breath, savoring the scent of him, and he tightened his grip, then released it.

“You all right?”

She pondered the question. She
felt
all right—more than all right—but was she? She’d just shared the ultimate intimacy with a man she’d sworn not to fall for—again. And she was about to go home with him, which had to be the worst idea ever for a woman who was trying to strike out on her own.

“I don’t know.” She reached out a hand to push herself up to a sitting position and grazed his warm skin. Ignoring the faint electric flicker that sparked from the touch, she turned her back and reached for her panties. She could feel him watching her as she snugged them over her hips and shimmied into her T-shirt.

“You just going to lie there?” she asked. She tried for a teasing tone, but her impatience sharpened her voice to an edge.

“No.” He swung his legs off the bed and reached for the jeans she’d left crumpled at the bottom of the bed. “I’m going to get dressed, and then I’m going to take you home.”

She yanked her pants on, tugging the waistband closed and jerking up the zipper. It was like closing the barn door after the horse had fled, but for now, it was the best she could do.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because we can’t…” She flailed helplessly at the rumpled sheets. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t, then. You’ll have your own room, and I’ll be gone all day. Hell, you don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to give you a safe place to stay.”

“But every time we get together, you—we…”

“That was your choice, Lacey,” he said. “If you want to lay down a hands-off policy, I’ll abide by it.”

“But…” She was suddenly appalled at herself. He was right. That last encounter had been entirely her idea. She’d forced him down on the bed, straddled him, held him down…

“You could have told me no,” she said.

He gave her an incredulous stare. “You do know I’m a man, right?”

She blushed. “I’m just saying, I didn’t
make
you do it. And besides, you
told
me to take my clothes off.”

“I know. You’ve got to get over this compunction to do everything a man tells you to do. Unless the man is me.” He grinned. “Hey, take your clothes off again.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“See? You do what you want.”

She heard the hum of an engine and the crunching of gravel as a car cruised down the street outside the hotel, and she felt alarm spiraling in her chest, reminding her that whatever the merits of Chase’s ranch versus the motel, she definitely wasn’t safe where she was.

“I told you, I need somebody to help out,” he said. “It might as well be you.”

“You’ll show me what to do?”

He grinned, and she flashed him what she hoped was a quelling look.

“In the
barn
.”

He grinned wider, and she pictured the two of them literally rolling in the hay. She could feel herself blushing. “Stop it.”

“Okay. I’ll show you how to do ranch work. And I won’t touch you.” He narrowed his eyes. “But don’t expect me to control myself if you jump me again.”

“I didn’t jump you!” She winced. “Well, I guess I did. Kind of. But I won’t do it again.”

“Your choice,” he said, raising his palms in that “no hands” gesture.

“All right. I’ll go with you. But just for tonight.”

Lacey expected Chase to look happy, maybe triumphant. But his expression was serious, his mouth drawn into a thin line, his eyes on hers.

His eyes on hers. She realized too late that she’d done it again—met his eyes and made that connection that drew them into a partnership. She’d worried about kissing him, but that was nothing compared to this.

She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m going to earn my keep, though.” Actually, she was going to do more than that. She was going to work her ass off. Pam had asked her to help her brother, and this was one way she could do it without breaking her promise to herself. If she helped him with the ranch, really helped him, maybe the guilt would leave her alone. It wouldn’t be quite what Pam had in mind, but it was the best she could do. Maybe then they’d be even. And then…

And then she had no idea what would happen. Somehow, she’d build herself a new life. One where she didn’t need to rely on anyone but herself. Maybe she’d let Chase visit. Yeah, that would work.

He hoisted the suitcase in one hand and grabbed her backpack with the other. “You got all the baggage you need here?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got plenty,” she said. “I’ve got more than enough baggage for both of us.”

***

The ranch house was hardly the kind of place that shouted home to Lacey. It stood alone on a vacant stretch of flat plain, a gray, weathered two-story house graced by one solitary tree that looked like it would fall down any minute. And when the tree fell, it would probably land on the low addition that had obviously been tacked on fairly recently. She wondered if Chase had built it himself. She wondered if he’d taken his shirt off when he did it.

She smacked her inner slut and returned her attention to the house.

“You’ll be sleeping in the addition,” Chase said. “I built it for a family room, because the rooms in the main house are so small. I felt kind of boxed in, you know? Couldn’t relax. So I put in a couple of guest bedrooms while I was at it. They’re on the far side, so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

She remembered his parents’ sprawling old southern house, with a wide screened-in porch where palm leaf fans spun slowly through the hot summer days. No wonder he felt boxed in here.

“I’d have to cross the whole house to get to you,” he said, taking her silence for nerves.

She looked up at the tree, wondering not if, but when it would fall. It was bound to happen.

Maybe falling for Chase was as inevitable as the eventual falling of the tree. Maybe the pull between them was as strong as the gravity that was bowing the old branches toward the ground.

Not
if, but when.

No. She could do better than that. She was strong. She
felt
strong tonight.

Of course, she felt strong because she’d totally mastered Chase back in the motel room. That wasn’t quite the kind of strength she needed now. She didn’t need Xena the warrior princess. She needed Scarlett, canny and tough and tightly laced, keeping her feelings hidden with a flash of flirty eyes and a fiddle-dee-dee smile.

She tossed that look at Chase as he pulled the truck to a stop, flinging open the door and stepping out so she didn’t have to spend another moment beside him in the close confinement of the truck cab. Just being in the pickup had reminded her of that day by the creek. Of course, that hadn’t been in this truck. It had been in the Dodge. But trucks plus Chase equaled trouble.

“How many acres do you have?”

“’Bout six hundred, plus five hundred leased.”

More than he’d had back home. Something fluttered in her heart, and she wondered if it was a tiny shred of her guilt flying away.

She hung back, not wanting to stand by the door while Chase fished for his keys. This was the moment the boy kissed you good night. She stood poised on her toes, ready to retreat if he turned and faced her, but he simply swung open the door. It wasn’t even locked.

She attributed the sinking feeling in her chest to worry. “You always leave it open?”

“Usually. Nobody comes out here,” he said.

So
they
were
alone
.

She followed him inside. The house was old-fashioned, with uneven plaster walls and a narrow staircase that led to the second floor rising to their right. Opposite the stairs was a wide doorway leading to what was apparently a living room or parlor, with a fireplace against one wall. A brown leather sofa stood in front of the hearth with its back to them, flanked by two matching chairs. The furniture was masculine and old-fashioned, with brass tacks along the edges, but it looked fairly new, almost unused.

As she followed Chase past the staircase and took a left turn through a door beneath it, she saw why. Dropping down two steps, they entered what had to be the new family room. It was a long, open space with unfinished wooden beams spanning the ceiling. Another fireplace, built of rough rock, angled across one corner. A pool table stood to one side, balls racked and ready, and the furniture was upholstered in dark brown tweed fabric and scattered with needlepoint pillows sporting designs featuring deer, bears, and flying ducks. The room was carpeted in a warm brown Berber, and the walls were painted a deep chocolate brown that made her feel like she was safe inside a cave.

A man-cave. Beyond the pool table was a foosball table, its armless players dangling above the fake green field, their torsos skewered by shiny metal poles.

“Where’s the big-screen TV?” she asked.

He nodded toward the fireplace, and she realized a three-foot screen was mounted on the wall above it, flanked by two sets of mounted antlers. The room was all man, but something about it felt strangely domesticated. Maybe it was the fact that all the textures and patterns meshed so well. The decorating had been put together by someone who cared.

“Who did the decorating?”

“Decorating?” He looked amused. “Nobody. I just bought some stuff and stuck it in here.”

They passed through the room and into a narrow hallway, then into a small guest bedroom neatly appointed with a dresser and a bed heaped with plump, inviting pillows. Lacey looked over at Chase, then back at the pillows.

“Well.”

“I’ll let you get settled in.”

She watched him leave with long strides, tossing a casual “good night” over his shoulder. She’d been prepared for a kiss or an attempted seduction, but Chase didn’t seem to have any problem turning and walking away. She should have felt relieved, but for some reason, the sparkle of the night had dissipated and she felt a little flat.

She’d been expecting a fight, she told herself. She wasn’t disappointed—she was just a little let down. That was all.

Just a little let down.