At the Cowboy's Mercy (11 page)

He'd left her in the morning four weeks ago, before she'd awakened. He'd put five hundred dollars--all he'd been able to get out of the ATM--with a note that she should spend it on living expenses, and one of those cellphones that didn't need a contract. He hadn't called her on it, tempted though he'd been to check up on her. He just--couldn't. Maybe that made him an idiot, but it wouldn't be the first time.

He slowed as he approached the house, the neat grass along the road and the side of the barn. He braked behind another truck in the road, just before his attention was captured by movement near the barn.
 

As he watched, Kennedy sashayed from the barn, ponytail swinging, long bare legs in denim cut-offs eating up the ground. Behind her bounded a gray kitten. She hadn't noticed him yet, and called to someone on the porch. He shifted to see a man on a ladder who twisted to look over his shoulder at her. Jealousy tightened Luke's gut at the grin the man gave her, and her answering one. Who was this guy, and just how well did he know Kennedy?

What the hell was wrong with him that it took him until now notice his own house? The windows had been reframed and--were those curtains blowing in the windows? The screened windows? And...plants on the front porch? He shut off the engine and opened the truck door, and finally she noticed him.
 

Her whole face lit up and she called his name as she ran toward him. He'd barely braced himself before she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around him and covering his mouth with hers.
 

She tasted like sunshine and freshly mown grass and springtime and home, damn it. Part of him wanted to push her away, but a bigger part, the part that had dreamed about her every night, had him reaching for her every morning, pulled her closer, his hand over her ass. He heard a man's voice, then another, teasing by the tone, but he ignored them and marched into the house with her still wrapped around him.
 

He closed the door but it popped open again with a bounce, so he used a firmer hand, turning her and pressing her against it. She laughed and nuzzled her face against his neck.
 

"You aren't serious."

"Sh."
 

Using his body, he pinned her to the wall and slid his hands under the hem of her shorts and panties, over the curve of her ass. He stroked his fingertips over the soft smooth skin and pushed aside the image of any other man touching her. He pressed his hips forward, between her legs, and she moaned. The sound shot straight to his cock, which ached with the need to be inside her. He reached between them to yank at the button of her waistband, peeling open her zipper, sliding his hand inside to find her hot and wet. She squirmed against his questing fingers, panting with need.

He pulled his hand free and lowered her legs to the floor. "Take them off."

"The bed--" she managed.

"Here." He opened his pants and stroked his cock, already hard as stone.

Her gaze widened as she saw how ready he was, and she shoved the shorts down her legs. She'd barely stepped out of them before he lifted her again. The shorts caught on one foot and he could feel them against his ass before they dropped to the floor--and he thrust inside her.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the muscles of her pussy squeezed around him, accommodating him, as her wet heat registered--he wasn't wearing a condom.

And he wasn't stopping now. Jesus, it felt like heaven, the slickness of her body, the skin-on-skin contact. He drew out and plunged back in, drawing a sigh from her that gusted against his throat. He lifted her ass, angling her so he could go deeper, harder, lose himself in her. God, he'd missed her.
 

As he fucked her, she clutched at his shoulders, nipped at his throat with her lips and teeth, fueling his need. With each slam of his body against hers, she grew wetter. She wriggled against him, her movements limited, but her need clear. As much as he hated leaving her body, he withdrew and lowered to his knees. She gave a strangled kind of cry when he flicked his tongue over her clit, then parted her wider for his mouth. As horny as he was, he couldn't resist drawing out her pleasure, toying with her clit before dipping inside her, his fingers playing along the flesh between her channel and rosebud. The muscles of her thighs tightened, her keening cries grew louder, and he took mercy on her, stroking her clit with lightning speed, two fingers hooking inside her.

She came with a moan that damn near rattled the windows--which were open, he recalled as he straightened and plunged inside her again.

Oh, yes, the ripples of her orgasm felt amazing along the length of his shaft, squeezing, stroking. And he couldn't hold back, hammering into her over and over, watching her face as she rode the remnants of her climax, her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted, her head tilted back so her hair fell along his arm. All of that, all of that combined to carry him over the edge, the orgasm tearing through him like a goddamned hurricane, and he emptied into her.

He held her against the door for a moment longer, his body pinning her, unable to move, his legs shaking.
 

A giggle, a little breeze of air against his neck, a little quiver running through Kennedy, snapped him back to reality. He pulled back, sliding out of her body--Christ, he hadn't used a condom and was slick with her juices, with his own come. He waited for the terror, the fear that she could get pregnant, to sink in, but it didn't come. Instead, a strange kind of pride filled him, and
that
 
was scary.

He made sure she was steady on her feet and fastened his pants quick, before the sight of her half-naked, tousled and shaky from the orgasm he'd given her gave his dick more idiotic ideas. She pulled up her shorts and pushed her hair out of her face--when had it fallen out of its ponytail?--and looked up at him. Another giggle rippled through her, and damn it, she blushed as she looked past him to the open window.

Well, hell. He'd forgotten about their visitors. No doubt they'd gotten an earful, and even if they hadn't... He felt his own ears burn.
 

Which made Kennedy giggle more. Then she took his hand and led him further into the house.

He shook off his post-climax haze--how could she be so clear-headed after what they'd just done?--when they walked into the kitchen. The peeling linoleum was gone, the wood floors bare and sanded.
 

"I thought I'd better wait to refinish them until I talked to you. It's a lot of work, and I didn't want to do something you didn't want done."

He
 
acknowledged that with a grunt, noting that she'd done a thorough job--even the bits by the cabinets were prepared.
 

And the cabinets themselves had been sanded, all the thick paint gone, leaving a vintage look that he considered keeping. The wallpaper was gone, too, the walls smooth beneath. And she had a kitchen table sitting in the curve of the window. A dorm-sized refrigerator was on the counter.

"When did you have the time to do all of this? Haven't you been working at the diner?"

"Sure, but when I'm here there's nothing else to do. And I owe you for letting me stay here. Come on, let me show you the bedroom."
 

It, too, had been sanded and de-wallpapered, and the walls were splotchy with spackle.
 

"I actually bought paint for in here, but didn't have the courage to use it without your say-so. It's a really beautiful blue that I think would look pretty with white trim. Very peaceful." She released his hand and walked over to paint samples taped to the wall. "See? This one. It looks really pretty when the sun shines through."

She had curtains on this window, too, the window open, a new screen. And beside the bed was a table with a lamp, and a well-worn paperback.

"Where did you get the furniture?" he asked as they made their way back to the kitchen.

"Jolene at the diner let me have it. She said it had just been in storage, so I was welcome to whatever I needed. I tried not to take advantage." She gave him a sideways look. "Is that okay?"

He wasn't sure. "And the guys outside working? Friends of yours?"

She frowned then. "It's the bus boy Andrew and his brother Aaron. They've taken out the windows, rebuilt the frames and put them back in."

"And those shorts? You wear them for their entertainment?"

Her frown deepened and she looked down at her legs. "It's been warm, I cut off a pair of my jeans. I'm not wearing them for anyone."

"You look like that, they might think they're going to get some pussy if they help out."

Her eyes widened and she stepped back. "Why? Because you did? You gave me a place to stay so I put out? Is that why you think I've been sleeping with you?"

Goddamnit. He'd gone and done it now, pissed her off. He didn't know how to rein in his jealousy. He knew she hadn't slept with anyone else, not the way she greeted him.
 

"And what about you?" She shoved at his chest. "Did you sleep with any buckle bunnies when you were gone? How do I know you didn't fuck around?"

He took a step toward her. "Because I wasn't home five minutes before I was inside you." And Christ, he wanted to be in her again.
 

Something flashed in her eyes, and her nostrils flared. He knew her well enough to know she was turned on.

"I thought you were laying claim."

"That, too." He dragged her against him and slammed his mouth over hers.
 

She didn't pull away, instead curled her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, tugging, punishing. Her teeth scraped his lower lip and she nipped at his tongue even as she rubbed her breasts against his chest and grabbed his cock through his jeans.

"This time, scream my name," he said against her mouth, his hand between them on her cunt before he popped the button open and slid the shorts down. He turned her around so she faced the counter, fingers splayed. He teased her entrance with his finger. "Jesus, you're so wet already." He drew some of her cream back to her rosette, swirled until she bucked, moaning. Then he unfastened his own jeans and bending his knees, plunged into her pussy.
 

Her muscles clenched around him, hard, as he went balls-deep, his hips slapping against her gorgeous ass, her channel so slick, so hot, so welcoming. He braced his hands beside hers on the counter, thrusting, letting her grind back against him, as hungry, as eager as he was. He slipped one hand between her legs and found her clit swollen and hard. No sense in building anticipation. He raced straight to fulfillment, circling her nub as she moved into his touch, flexing her hips against his fingers, squeezing her inner muscles around him, hungry, desperate. Then she grabbed his hand and held it still against her, pumping against it. He struggled to stay inside her as she sought her pleasure, then found it, grinding back against him, taking him so deep as she pulsed around him. The shaky cry that was his name echoed in the empty house as her orgasm bathed him in more cream and he thrust harder into her spasming body before his balls tightened and released, sending hot jets into her body.
 

He leaned against her for a second, but she was the one to pull away.
 

"Maybe at some point we can take all our clothes off and maybe do it in a bed," she said, moving toward the sink with her shorts still around her knees.
 

He should be grateful she thought there would be a next time, after the way he treated her. He zipped his own pants and watched as she washed up and pulled up her shorts.
 

"How long are you here?" she asked, turning toward him as she dried her hands on a towel.

"A week before Corpus."

She nodded. "There's a barbecue tonight for the volunteer fire department. I said I'd go."

"Okay."
 

"Do you want to come with me, or do you have work you need to do?"

The brightness she'd greeted him with was gone. He'd damaged her, either with his words or the way he'd taken her, so selfishly.
 

"I'd like to come."

Some of the joy returned to her expression. "Good. There are people you should meet. Your neighbors. They're curious about you."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

She wore a pretty white sundress that left her shoulders bare and flowed around her knees. For once, Luke tamped down his desire as he watched her move through the crowd, visiting with one group, then another. How many people did she know, anyway? She'd only been here a month. But being a waitress at the busy diner, he supposed, had its benefits. She tugged him along behind her, introducing him to people, telling him what they did or where they lived.

"I'm never going to remember all these people," he muttered as she dragged him to another group.

"Not in one night. But you can take me to work tomorrow, have some breakfast, visit, get to know them."

"It's not as easy for me as it is for you."

"You have to make an effort if this is going to be your home."

But it seemed to him, it was more her home. He felt like the intruder in her life instead of the other way around. She'd spent the last month sleeping in his bed, fixing up his house, meeting his neighbors. He couldn't help resenting it a little.

"There's the sheriff," she said, and tugged him in that direction.
 

She greeted the man in the faded denim shirt and jeans with a kiss on the cheek, and the man, a little older, maybe early forties--rested his hand on her waist. Luke swallowed his jealousy, his initial reaction to the man's casual embrace. Would he ever see her with a man and not seize up? But when the man raised his eyes to Luke, he saw this time his jealousy had basis.
 

Kennedy stepped back and Luke looped his own hand around her waist. She relaxed into his side.
 

"Sheriff Tandy, this is Luke, my--" She hesitated. "I'm living at his house."

"Ah, the rodeo cowboy." The sheriff extended a hand, and Luke had to release Kennedy momentarily. "In town long?"