Tough Luck Hero (22 page)

“No. What you think is devious and riddled with secret motives.”

“I think that no matter what, you should just sleep with him again. You're going to do it no matter what. There's ample evidence to support that. You have to keep touching him, kissing him and living in the same house as him, and you're going to give in eventually. The only real decision is—are you going to plan it and enjoy it, or are you going to call me in a panic every time?”

Lydia chewed her lip, irritation spiking inside of her. She'd been looking for help excusing her behavior and Sadie was giving it. But she was just indecisive enough to want to argue with every possible scenario.

She wanted Sadie to acknowledge that this was impossible and nothing could be done at all to ease her terrible suffering. Instead, Sadie was offering solutions like they were simple. It was so annoying.

“But I just... I...” She was out of arguments. She really was. She and Colton were on a timer. Neither of them wanted a relationship.

Yes, the things he made her want, the way he made her feel. The absolute, hellfire levels of shame she'd felt when her orgasm had died down and she'd had to replay all the dirty things they'd said to each other in her head—that was hard. It was exposing and she didn't like it.

But it was also so good. It was everything she'd never known she wanted. And if it was only sex then she didn't have to worry about the other stuff. His eventually wanting her to move in, or be more, or share about her childhood and all the other things about relationships that made her feel like she was being slowly dissected under a microscope.

“I'll be distracted if I'm having sex while I campaign,” she pointed out.

“As if you won't spend all day every day obsessing about his body if you're not getting all up on it,” Sadie replied.

“You shouldn't have sex before a big game,” Lydia protested. “I'm pretty sure that was on
Friday Night Lights
.”

“You're not a football player.”

“Still. The principle applies.”

“No,” Sadie said.

“I want him.”

“I know you do.”

“I have so many pamphlets to fold, though, and I feel like sex will distract me from that. That and talking to constituents and things.”

“I don't know one person on earth, including my husband, who's more organized than you, Lydia Carpenter. I don't see any reason why you can't be the mayor of Copper Ridge, replete with both perfectly folded pamphlets and good sex with a good guy.”

Lydia chewed her fingernail. “That
does
sound nice.”

“That's my vote. But you have my vote first and always, and you know that.” Lydia nodded silently, as though Sadie could see. “Now. I have to get some sleep because I already know I'm going to have an early-morning wake-up call in the form of nausea.”

“Oh no. That's terrible.”

“Pregnancy. The miracle of life is sort of a drag, but I hear it's worth it in the end.”

Lydia smiled, feeling that little twinge around her heart again. “You and Eli will be great parents. You have the best family ever, and I know you're going...” She took a deep breath, trying to ease the pain in her chest, trying to loosen up her throat. “I know you're going to make your child feel like they can do anything. You do it to me and I'm just your whiny single friend. Think how much more you'll do it with your kid? They're lucky to have you.”

“I'm sure I'll also be a huge embarrassment. And Eli will show up at all functions in his uniform and give the kids a stern glare and tell them not to do drugs.”

Lydia laughed. “I hope he does.”

“And you'll be there, giving speeches and cutting ribbons. Because you'll be the boss lady.”

Lydia blinked, suddenly having an image of herself all alone. She'd never really come to an internal conclusion on if she wanted to be married. She hadn't really felt like it was something she had to choose. Because it was a not-right-now kind of thing and she didn't have to.

She was starting to wonder when she'd choose. And she was starting to have to face that she'd have to at some point.

Or maybe she didn't because she would never actually have the chance to have something like Eli and Sadie did.

Even if she could, she really didn't know if she could handle it. If she wanted it at all.

You can have good sex, though. That you can have. And avoid thinking about the future.

She liked that option more and more.

She ended the call with Sadie and tossed her phone onto the vacant pillow by her head. Determination burned in her stomach.

She wanted Colton and she was going to have him, pamphlets be damned.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

S
LEEP
HAD
BEEN
HELL
. Work had been hell. Colton had no desire to do either. What he'd wanted to do from the moment he'd left Lydia last night to the end of work today, was find her and drag her to his bedroom and explain to her—with his hands—exactly what they should be doing during this little enforced relationship.

But he hadn't done that. He'd been respectful of her space and responsible with his time.

Which really was terrible.

What he'd actually wanted to do was storm off the job site, stalk straight downtown to her little office, slam the door and bend her over her desk so she could get a good look at the ocean view while he screwed them both into oblivion.

But he hadn't done that. Because of respect. Of space and time and blah blah—he hated all of it now.

There had been a lot opportunities for resentment to burn inside of him. When he'd been forced to get a business degree in college—never even being given a chance to think about if he wanted to do something else—because he would need it for the inevitable
someday
when he would be put in charge of a ranch he didn't want to operate. When he'd been placed in charge of West Construction after his uncle's retirement. Or hell, he could take it all back to the day his older brother had walked out and left all of this for him to manage.

He'd never let the resentment fester. He'd just done what needed to be done.

Today he hated it.

As soon as he closed the front door behind him, he turned and walked back out onto the porch. He really wasn't in a frame of mind to be dealing with Lydia. She had made it clear that she didn't want this to happen again between them.

But she's a liar.

Yes, she was a liar. And he was pretty damn confident of that fact. Still, he was not going to be the jackass that chased after her. He had been a jackass enough over the course of the past month. Actually, he was pretty sure that being left at the altar was the lifetime limit of being a jackass.

He growled, stomping down the front steps and stalking across the driveway, heading down the dirt road that led to the barn. He would just chop some more wood. Because what the hell else was a man supposed to do in this situation?

He supposed he could put his forearm muscles to work in a different way. Taking hold of himself and working himself to oblivion with the fantasy of her in his mind, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he could still taste her on his lips.

He gritted his teeth, trying to shove that memory back down deep. It didn't work. Instead, he was consumed with it. The way her lips had felt, soft and slick beneath his own. The sounds she had made when she'd found her release.

When he had found out he was the only man to ever give her an orgasm. It made him feel like a man. In the most basic, elemental way.

“Not helpful,” he said, grabbing his ax from against the side of the woodshed. “Not helpful at all, West.”

He propped a log up on top of the stump he used as a stand, and brought the ax down hard over the top of it, splitting it cleanly in two. There was something immensely satisfying about hard labor. At least for him.

It was clean. It was honest. And, any work that he did here was
his
. That thought, as always, sent a rush of satisfaction through him. Too bad it was more of a philosophical sense of satisfaction. That wasn't exactly what he was after. He would have preferred the physical. The sexual.

Since when did he become so basic? He wasn't sure he cared. Lydia made him feel obsessive. One time. She expected them to limit it to
one
time?

He recognized the irony in that. Since it was supposed to be this one
more
time, so that they could remember the
first
time, so that they could put it behind them.

All they had remembered was that there hadn't been a first time. So now, it had only been once. Somewhere in his brain, he felt that made it logical to try and do it again.

Or maybe there was nothing logical to be had in any of this. Maybe he just wanted. It had never really happened before. Not like this. He wasn't a stranger to sexual desire, but he was a stranger to this all-consuming, specific lust that he knew could only be satisfied by one woman. That he knew couldn't even be tricked with a few moments in the shower and his soaped up right hand.

So, he would burn it out. Chop wood until his body ached, until he couldn't move. Maybe it would reduce the chances of him walking down the hall and knocking on her bedroom door tonight. Putting himself out there again, getting on his knees and begging.

Or he could make her beg.

She wanted him. Even if she wished that she didn't. The thought made his stomach twist, made his blood rush south of his belt.

He picked up another log and put it on the stump, chopping it mercilessly, trying to expend some of the frustration that was tensing his muscles and making him feel restless. Aroused.

Somehow, this was his life. He had gotten to a place where he had never experienced this kind of lust before. Ill-advised, pointless. He had gotten to a place where he was building a business that he didn't care about, where his future would involve running a ranch that didn't have his heart.

Somehow, there was a woman who would beg for him, when he knew none ever would have before. Somehow, he was considering making her do it.

He slung the ax again, bringing it down hard on the stump, abandoning it with the head buried halfway into the solid block of wood.

“Are you trying to destroy yourself?”

He turned and saw Lydia standing there, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked...she looked prim and proper, and like she had not spent the day in sexual agony. She made a mockery of all the fantasies that were rioting through his head.

She was wearing a skirt that fell down past her knees and a top that was buttoned up to her throat. And he wanted to tear it all away. Pop the buttons off her blouse. He had never done anything like that in his life. But he wanted to do it so badly his fingers itched.

“I can handle a little wood chopping.” He gripped the handle on the ax and leaned up against it.

She arched a brow. “You must have a lot of wood.”

Those words made a mockery of the hard-on pressing up against his jeans. He looked down, then back up at her. “You may want to consider or rephrase. As a politician you should be aware of the power of words.”

She looked down, then her eyes widened. She looked back up in his face. “I'm sorry. Most of my constituents are not thirteen-year-old boys.”

“You and I both know that I'm not a boy.”

Good intentions be damned, he had just walked them both off the pier and into the deep end.

“You are cranky today,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, drawing his attention to those perfect little temptations that he'd had under his hands, under his tongue, just last night.

He could respond to that. He could tell her that it was her fault he was cranky because he was sexually frustrated. That he was cranky because she had given him the best sex of his life, and then cut him off completely. Yeah, he could say that. But frankly, he was done talking.

He released his hold on the wooden handle, striding across the empty space between them. He didn't care that his hands were dirty, or that she was wearing nice clothes from a day at work. He didn't care that she had decided they couldn't do this anymore. He didn't care that it couldn't go anywhere.

All he cared about was the arousal that was roaring through his bloodstream. All he cared about was how much he wanted her, how much he needed to have her.

Her eyes widened as he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her up against him. Then he lowered his head, claiming her mouth with his. He wasn't asking; he was taking. He wasn't seeking approval; he was demanding. And he knew that she would rise to the demand.

He wasn't disappointed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all of the frustration that was pouring out of him. She matched it, amped it up. Kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust of his tongue, she met him.

He propelled her back up against the woodshed, as he had done just a week or so ago. Pressed her hands above her head, holding her steady as he continued to ravage her mouth. She didn't protest. She didn't try to stop him. Instead, she arched her back, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest, a needy sound escaping her lips. Yes, she wanted this. Yes, she wanted
him
. He was insane, but so was she. It was a common madness that wove itself around them both, that made him feel somewhere beyond control, somewhere beyond common sense.

And since he knew that both of them firmly existed within the realm of common sense on a good day, it had to be magic. Some kind of dark spell propelling them on. But if it was witchcraft, then he was happy to burn in hell. As long as she was with him.

He pressed his hand between her thighs, edging beneath the waistband of her panties, drawing his fingertips through her damp flesh, feeling the evidence of her desire as it spread over his skin. She was so hot. So hot for him, for this. He pushed one finger deep inside of her, and her head fell back, a raw gasp on her lips. He just wanted to watch her as she came, as he teased her clit with his thumb, adding another finger to the first, stretching her, teasing her. The color in her cheeks mounted, her lips parting slightly, short, sharp gasps of pleasure escaping her mouth.

“Come for me,” he demanded, the rough words on his lips. “Come for me, Lydia. I need you to. I want to watch.”

She began to roll her hips in time with the movements of his fingers, the dark slashes of color on her cheeks growing even more pronounced as she did. Her dark eyes were glazed over, and he could see that she had surrendered herself to this completely. There was no resistance. There was no evidence of doubt. There was nothing but desire. She was as lost in this as he was, and he loved it.

He could honestly say that he had never once before taken so much pleasure in watching his partner come undone. Could honestly say that he had never taken the time to watch a woman reach her peak. Yes, he always felt triumphant when his partner did, and he considered it a must. He never left a woman unsatisfied. But this was
different
. This wasn't about his ego, this was about her satisfaction becoming his own.

She clung to his shoulders, sobbing now with her need, her fingernails digging into his skin. He pressed harder, his movements going faster. And then she let out a broken cry as her internal muscles tightened around his fingers, as she gave herself up to her release.

“Good girl,” he said, the words soft, unintentional. She made him unintentional. Made him, a man who did everything, took every breath with purpose, feel like he didn't know himself. Feel like he didn't know what he might do next.

It was a damned abomination. And a damned miracle.

She was breathing hard, still holding on to him. Her whole face flushed. “I don't feel so cranky anymore,” he said.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she grabbed hold of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, one that was so fierce, so intense, he feared she might knock them over completely. He held her hips as she kissed him deep, as her tongue slid over his. Then he reached into his back pocket, grabbing hold of his wallet, and some protection. He worked at the front of his jeans, freeing himself and sheathing himself quickly.

Then he pushed her skirt up her hips and pulled her panties to the side, testing the entrance to her body, testing her readiness, before he thrust in deep, pinning her up against the side of the woodshed.

She tightened her hold on him, deepened his kiss as he began to drive them both toward oblivion. It was fast, it was raw, it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He didn't have sex with women outside of bedrooms. Didn't take them quick, didn't take them hard. He lit candles, he set the mood. He made sure that it was right, and that they were ready. But none of that had happened here.

She wanted it, and he knew it. He had read her body. He felt more connected to her desire then he had ever felt with his own before. Much less another partner.

She bit his neck, clawed his back. Whispered in his ear.
Harder
.
Faster
.
Now
.

He gave. He gave as much as he took.
Harder
, until his thighs burned.
Faster
until he couldn't breathe. And
now
, when he couldn't control himself any longer.

His climax came fast and furious, and so did hers. Hit them both at the same time like a bolt of lightning straight from the sky. She convulsed around him and he pulsed inside of her, as the electric tendrils wound around them both. He took her mouth, deep and hard, while still fully seated inside of her body, staying deep until the very last jolt of release shocked his system.

And when it was over, he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down onto the ground with him, so that she was sitting on his lap. And he wasn't sure what the hell had just happened.

“I don't—”

“If you say that you don't do things like that,” he said, his voice a growl, “I'm going to have no choice but to prove you wrong again. Fact of the matter is you do things like that.
We
do things like that. At least, we do them together.”

He was surprised he had been able to get his voice to work. Was surprised that he had been able to speak at all. Especially when his heart was still thundering in his head and his muscles were still shaking from the aftereffects of his release.

“Well, then I have no idea what to say,” she said, leaning even more firmly against him, as though she was trying to melt away completely.

“Maybe don't talk, peaches.” He gathered his strength, moving up onto his knees, then into a standing position. His jeans sagged, and he remembered belatedly that they were still open.