At the Cowboy's Mercy (12 page)

"Just the week. You know Kennedy from the diner, or has she been getting in some kind of trouble?" His attempt at a grin felt stiff.

The sheriff shifted his attention to Kennedy and smiled. "No trouble, unless you count her slowing down traffic on that bike she's been riding."

Luke angled his head to look down at her. "What bike?"

She waved a hand. "Jolene had a bike in storage and I thought I'd ride it to the diner on days when Andrew's off work."

"It's a long way."

"Tell me about it." She rubbed her thigh through her skirt. "But I'm getting used to it."

"I came upon her the other day huffing and puffing up a hill, and three cars on the road behind her, unable to pass," the sheriff said. "I drove her the rest of the way into town, but the girl needs a car."

"We'll work on that this weekend." Luke had already decided to find her something--he was sick of being worried about the weather, about an accident, about her being stranded. But it didn't sit well with him that the sheriff was telling him what to do.

"No, Luke, you've already done enough," she protested quietly.

"And you've worked on my house, way more than I expected. Consider it payment."

She made a face he couldn't interpret, then made her excuses from the sheriff and led Luke off.

"I don't expect you to buy me a car."

"I know you don't. But I've been concerned about you being out there in the middle of nowhere without one. We'll find something. Maybe Jolene has something in her storage shed."

She twisted to look up at him. "Did you just make a joke? You, Luke Delaney?"

"I've been known to, once or twice."

"I don't believe that." She stepped away, taking his hand and leading him toward the makeshift dance floor, packed earth in front of the stage. "Dance with me."

He drew back. "I was under the impression we'd come here to eat barbecue." He inclined his head toward the metal building that housed the buffet line.
 

"Fine. I'll feed you. But then we'll dance."

***

"What was I thinking, wearing a white dress to a barbecue?" she lamented as they walked up the steps to the porch, under the new porch light Andrew had installed a few days ago. She plucked the dress away from her boob, where a big glob of barbecue sauce had landed.

"I offered to lick it off for you."
 
Luke swung the door open and motioned for her to precede him.
 

"Oh, wow, two jokes in one night." She passed him and headed for the kitchen sink and leaned over, dousing the stain with dish detergent and scrubbing at it it the dish cloth. "Maybe you can moonlight at a comedy club."

"Turn around."
 

She snapped her head up, his voice so close behind, and met his gaze in the reflection of the kitchen window over the sink. She turned and handed over the wash cloth.

"You just want to touch my boob."

"Yup." But instead of groping, he slipped his fingers inside the top of the dress, enough to hold it away from her skin as he scrubbed. He frowned. "I don't think it's going to come out. Why don't you take it off? We'll get some bleach or something in the morning and take it to the laundry place."

Kennedy swallowed her frustration. It wasn't his fault she'd wanted to look pretty for him tonight and wore the only dress she had, one she found on the new arrival rack at Walmart in Seguin when she went with Jolene one time. She'd thought the color so romantic and fresh, and it had fit like a dream. Here's what her pride got her.
 

Okay, maybe that was melodramatic. She had Luke bending over her, trying to clean her dress. She put her hand over his.
 

"We'll worry about it tomorrow. Take me to bed."

His nostrils flared and he snapped his gaze to hers.

"Naked this time. Both of us." She reached behind her for the button at the back of her neck and let the strap fall loose as she edged toward the bedroom. "I want to feel your skin against mine."

"Jesus, Kennedy."

She turned and led the way down the hall, holding her breath so she could hear him follow. He caught her as she stepped through the doorway of the bedroom, drew her against his chest and lowered his mouth to the curve of her shoulder.

"Been driving me crazy all night, seeing your skin, wanting to taste you."

"You've tasted me plenty."

He spun her around and dragged her hips against his. "Not nearly enough."

She gasped when he burrowed his head against the curve of her throat, his stubble rasping the sensitive skin, his tongue soothing it. Heat flooded her, firing her blood, making her panties wet and her breasts ache.
 

Needing to feel him against her, she reached between them for the buttons of his shirt, made quick work of them despite her shaking fingers, and glided her hands over his soft chest hair. She guided his hands to the zipper at the back of her dress, and in seconds the fabric pooled at her waist. She pressed her breasts into the heat of his body. The way his chest hair abraded her hard nipples made her skin tingle all over, made her pussy swell and pout with longing.
 

But she was calling the shots tonight, and she was going to have her seduction. She stepped out of his arms long enough to skim out of her skirt and panties, then reached for his belt. He let her undress him, helping only when she reached his boots. Then they were naked, facing each other, his cock hard and aimed right at her. Her mouth watered a little with the desire to taste him. Maybe later. Now she moved toward the clock radio beside the bed.
 

"You owe me a dance," she said, flipping it on and twisting the dial until she found a suitable song, one that would bring his body right up against hers. She settled on an old ballad and returned to stand before him.

His gaze traveled the length of her body. "This might be the shortest dance on record."

"I'm fine with that." She looped her hand around the back of his neck and pushed her breasts against his chest, his cock resting against her belly, hot and hard. He huffed out a breath and rested his hand at the small of her back, taking her other hand in his. "This is why you wanted to dance with me in the first place, isn't it? To rub all up against me?"

He maneuvered her in an awkward two-step, not the easiest dance when parts were loose. "This is why I didn't want to dance with you. Didn't want to meet all the neighbors with a hard-on."

She angled her hips to said hard-on, letting her pubic hair tangle with his, and her clit swelled, eager for some contact. His eyes darkened as he looked down at her.

"I can smell you. Are you trying to drive me crazy?"

She grinned. "An added bonus."

He flattened his hand against the small of her back so she was against his erection, her pussy lips parting over it, slicking it with every step he took. Arousal made her dizzy, and as if he knew, he spun her around, toward the bed, and dropped her onto it, following her down. He braced his weight on one arm and lowered his head to kiss her mouth, at once demanding and sweet. He glided his hand down over her breast, pinching the nipple and rolling it between his fingers before coasting down her waist, his touch almost ticklish. He closed his hand firmly under her thigh and lifted her leg, spreading her enough to push his cock against her entrance.

"Condom," she reminded him.

He grunted. "I didn't use one earlier."

"And I could be pregnant, or I could not be. But I can barely take care of myself, Luke. Please."

He hesitated, looking like he was going to say something else, but rolled away to get a condom from the drawer. When he returned, she rewarded him by spreading her legs wide and angling her hips so he could look at her, see how turned on she was. He looked long enough for her to feel her own wetness dripping into the crease of her thighs. He bent his head and blew lightly against her skin, making her clit spasm, then he rose over her and drove into her.
 

The orgasm was instantaneous and unexpected, his cock rubbing against her slick sensitive walls, his groin flush against her eager clit. The climax rolled through her in relentless waves, each thrust of his body igniting a new sensation as she clutched at him, both with her hands and her pussy. He chuckled when she melted beneath him, spent, but he continued the same rhythm, slow, languid, but each finishing with a deep, hard thrust. She let her fingertips float over his back, feeling the muscles contract, and striving to meet his strokes. He lifted himself higher, holding his weight on one hand, and curved his hand around her ass, his callused fingers parting the crease there and gliding over her puckered hole.

The lust that shot through her shocked her, and she wriggled away from his touch. "Not that."

"You liked it. I felt you squeeze me. And Christ, Kennedy, you're so wet." He repeated the caress and this time she bucked against him. "Could you come again? With me doing this?"

Just the idea of what he was doing had her channel flooding, had wetness coating his fingers. "Not inside," she managed, pushing her clit against his groin.

"Okay," he said, and began to move in his slow way, his fingers stroking from her vagina to her--she couldn't even think it, but it felt so good, so good, and her clit was hard, and when he was flush against her....

This time the waves took her under, tumbling her around, taking her breath, swamping her with pleasure. Her pussy clamped hard on his cock and he pushed deep, letting her rub her clit against him, letting her squeeze him, milk him, before he hammered into her, chasing his own orgasm.
 

He held himself over her for a long time before he stopped pulsing inside her and withdrew.
 

"Every dance we had ended like that," he said with a grunt as he flopped onto his back, "And I'd dance with you every night."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Luke wasn't really a breakfast person, but since he was taking Kennedy to the diner anyway, he may as well spend some time getting to know the people in town. And the hardware store wouldn't open for awhile anyway, so no sense in driving home, then back into town later to get what he needed.

Besides, he wanted to see Kennedy in her element.
 

He sat at the counter while she wrapped her apron around her hips and went to work, sliding a cup of coffee in front of him before heading to the tables, coffee pot in hand, smile on her face. And it was a genuine smile, too. She really seemed to like her job. This was the most relaxed he'd seen her since before she graduated college. She was happy here, now, like she'd been when he'd fallen for her those years ago.

He wondered if that other job in Dallas had really been who she was, or just who she thought she should be. She hadn't spoken of it since she'd been with him, so he didn't know if she missed it. But watching her now, this was who she was. Maybe she just needed to hit rock bottom to find her joy again.
 

She seemed to know everyone, and part of him resented that, that she was enjoying his house, his town, when he was off working, but then the fair part of him remembered all the work she'd done on the house. The snarly part of him thought she'd done too much, placed her stamp on it, and he'd never be able to erase her. The reasonable part watched her laugh with a couple of old farmers, thought about her flitting around the barbecue last night, thought about her in his arms last night, and wondered why the hell he'd want to erase her.

Because you can't take care of her.
If she stayed with him, he'd have nothing more to offer her than her father had. All it took was one wrong fall from his horse and he'd be broke. He'd have the house and land, because he'd paid for it outright, but he wouldn't have much else.

"She's something, isn't she?" Jolene's voice jolted him out of his melancholy. "All it takes is a friendly smile and a toss of her head and she gets money out of these old skinflints like no one I've ever seen."

"Looks like she's good at what she does."

Jolene cast a sharp look at him. "Don't sound so surprised."

"Let's just say this wasn't how she saw her life."

"Yeah, well, I think she's fine with it now."

And she was. He watched her laugh with her customers, with Jolene, kissed her good-bye when the hardware store opened, and when he returned to pick her up at the end of her shift, she was chatty about the events of the day.
 

"Did the sheriff come by?"

She blinked. "He always does. Why?"

"Maybe I can make a point of being there when he's there."

She shifted on the seat, drawing her knee up between them. "Luke Delaney, are you jealous?"

He snorted. "Just want him to understand, is all."

"Understand what, exactly? Do you think I won't make him understand?"

"Seemed to me you weren't too aware of it last night when you kissed his cheek and let him put his hands on you."

She blushed and looked down at her hands. "Honestly? I wasn't. But I can take care of myself, you know. I can protect my own virtue, and...whatever this is." She flipped a finger between them.

He turned onto the gravel road and breathed out a sigh of relief that she didn't ask him to define just what "this" was.

***

The next week they fell into a routine. He'd drop her off at work, eat breakfast at the diner, getting to know his neighbors at her urging. He'd go home to work on the house--his priorities had changed since Kennedy came into his life--then come back to the diner, eat again, run any errands, and head back to the house. Despite working all morning and part of the lunch shift, she had plenty of energy to paint the bedroom, scrape the wallpaper off the bathroom walls, help him put up Sheetrock, and worked on staining the kitchen floor, even one day shopping for a used car. Then they'd eat supper on the picnic table he'd built out of scrap wood from the barn, out on the porch. He planned to make her a porch swing before he left.

And every night they'd make love. Every night it got better, every night he wanted her more.