At the Cowboy's Mercy (9 page)

"All of me?"

"Just your hands to the headboard."

"With," she swallowed. "With what? A rope?"

"I have an old t-shirt. It won't chafe."

"Do you--like that? Bondage?"

"Tying your hands to the bed isn't bondage. It's just--"

"Hot."

He nodded, hoping she understood, hoping she'd go along. He could picture here there, stretched out for him, naked, willing, while he drove her wild. She nodded, just once then turned toward the bed so he couldn't see her face.

***

What had she just agreed to? Kennedy's pulse throbbed in every part of her body as she lay on the bed. She remembered the first night, when he'd held her hands above her head as he'd fucked her, and it had made her a little crazy. Tying her meant he'd have both hands free. What would he do to her?

Her gaze followed him as he opened his duffel and drew out a ratty old shirt, then ripped it down the middle. She swallowed hard when he knelt on the bed.
 

"What if I don't like it?" she asked, shifting on the bed so her arms weren't so far away from the bedstead.

He paused from looping the fabric through the iron headboard. "Then say the word and I'll cut you free." He reached into his pocket for his knife, showed it to her, and placed it on the floor by the bed before taking her hand in his and rubbing his thumb over her palm. "But I'm going to do my best to make sure you like it."

Gently he wrapped the fabric about one wrist, then another, not unlike hogtying, she thought a little wildly. Then he levered himself over her, his body shielding but not touching hers, and kissed her softly. Not being able to touch him was odd--and strangely exciting. Her nipples tightened further, almost to the point of pain, as his tongue teased her lips. He kissed her jaw, and she angled her head, inviting his kiss along her throat. Instead, he shoved off of her and worked the fastening of her jeans. She hummed her approval as he peeled them down her legs, taking her panties with them. Then he lifted her foot in the curve of his palm and dropped a light kiss to the inside of her ankle.
 

The charge shot straight up her leg, sending a flood of heat to her pussy. She couldn't stop the groan that escaped her throat. He chuckled softly and continued soft kisses up to her knee. She tried not to squirm, but parted her thighs wider. He ignored the invitation, repeating the caresses on her other leg. This time his tongue joined the party, teasing the skin above her knee, and she thought he'd continue higher. Instead, he knelt beside her and bent to tease her nipple with a gust of breath.

She pressed her thighs together to ease the ache in her pussy. "Luke, please."

"Please, what?"

She arched her back so her nipple brushed his lip. He chuckled and lifted his head. "Cheater."

Then he lowered his head again, just the heat of him caressing her stomach. Her nerves danced on the surface of her skin, as if reaching for him, the only part of her that could. Her flesh felt hot, inflamed, eager for even a brush of his fingertip. She whimpered when finally he parted her legs and settled between them.

Everything in her clenched. He could make her come by looking at her right now. One one hand, she wanted release desperately. On the other hand, the build-up was delicious. She wanted to come with him inside her.

And then he was gone, off the bed. She twisted her head to watch him shuck his clothes in record time, then once again stretch out between her legs, his attention on her pussy.
 

"Don't make me come yet," she said.

He looked up the length of her body, his eyebrows raised. "Isn't that the point of this?"

"Not yet."

He rose over her, gloriously naked, his erection brushing over her thigh, hot and heavy. The t-shirt stretched as she twisted, wanting to touch him, to filter her fingers through his chest hair, to bring him over her. He lowered his mouth to hers and she met it eagerly, savoring his taste, the play of his tongue against hers, his blatant strokes. He rubbed his cock against her hip in rhythm to his kiss and she shifted, wanting to bring him into her.

Then he broke the kiss, backing away again, his hands on her hips.
 

"Turn over."

She blinked, and heat shot through her when she understood. He wanted to take her from behind. His hands would be free to touch her all over. But turning over without the use of her hands was harder than she thought, and she rolled without much grace, even with his help. She shifted forward on her knees so she could grab the headboard, relieving some of the stress on her wrists.
 

He leaned over her, his cock riding the cleft of her ass, and swept her hair over her shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck, down her spine, his stubble adding a delicious counterpoint to his lips. When he reached the base of her spine, her pussy contracted, growing wetter. He continued his kisses over the curve of her body, to the crease of skin between ass and thigh, and he scraped his teeth against it. The sensation nearly shot her off the bed and she tightened her fingers in the headboard until the metal bit into her skin.

"Luke!"

The rip of foil sent a tremor through her, and then his heat returned against the back of her legs, one hand on her hip.

He entered her in one hard thrust, his groin slapping against her, and she screamed, part in shock, part in pleasure.

He stilled. "Okay?"

She could only manage to nod her head, and pushed back against him. God, he was so deep, so hard, filling her channel, filling her senses. He began to move again, slowly, stroking every inch of her, almost pulling out before easing in again. She clenched around him, wanting to hold him deep, wanting to feel him in every part of her body, wanting to feel every detail of his. He pulled out and pushed back in, his breathing growing heavy, his strokes coming faster, harder, and she met each one with a desperation of her own. She'd been so certain she'd come the minute he entered her, but he kept her off balance.
 

He reached around to pluck at her nipples. She straightened as much as she could to allow him access while her hips angled to bring him deeper.
 

"Harder," she gasped. "Please. Luke."

"Jesus, Kennedy," he managed, and pushed her forward, shoulders down, hips in the air, and pounded into her.

The orgasm twisted, a living thing inside her, tightening around every nerve in her before springing free, shooting through her blood, dancing over her skin, until she could feel only Luke's thrusts, hear his groan, feel him melt inside her.

They stayed on their knees for several minutes, shaking, before he withdrew, got the knife and sliced her free to fall to the bed beside him.

CHAPTER NINE

Her wrists were chafed. Luke lightly stroked the skin as she slept, her hand on his chest, her face pressed against his side, under his arm. God knew, he hadn't meant to hurt her. He hadn't thought she'd pull against the t-shirt, hadn't thought the t-shirt would do any damage, but she'd stretched it all to hell in her excitement. The knots had been so tight he'd had to slice her free.

The experience had been sexy as hell, but he didn't want to leave marks on his woman.

His woman.
The thought sent ice through his veins. She wasn't his woman. She was...what? She'd explained what had happened with her father last night, why she hadn't called him and Liam to say good-bye. And hell, it made sense. The old man always had more pride than sense, which was why Kennedy was in the state she was in.

So where did that leave him and Kennedy? He'd kept his anger as a wall between them, but the wall was crumbling. No reason to hold her off--not like he had, her in his bed and all--except he was in no position to have a woman. He had a house, but no furniture, no heat, and his means of support was shakier than her father's gambling. Hell, it was gambling to a certain extent.

He had nothing to offer her. He should send her on her way, but she had no place to go.

Beside him, she woke with an "umph," then stretched, her naked body sliding along his, causing the predictable reaction. She glided her palm across his chest, then down his belly, then propped her chin on his chest.
 

"Morning," she murmured.

Hard-on be damned, he wanted to get away from her, away from her sultry morning voice, her sexy hooded eyes, her knowing smile. Away from everything in him that made him want. Away from everything in him that could hurt her. He shifted toward the edge of the bed.

"About time you woke up. Let's go to town and get some breakfast."

She blinked and sat up, so sexy it made his teeth ache. Some of the relaxation left her face and she pushed her hair back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

After cold showers--since there was no hot water heater--they climbed in the truck and drove into town.

For a Thursday morning, the little diner on the main drag was pretty busy. He parked the truck and they walked in silence to the door. Hell, the whole ride had been in silence. That meant something, right, if he couldn't even think of anything to say to her outside of bed? This wasn't a relationship if they couldn't talk. He held the door open so the chime overhead rang--not like anyone could hear it. All the tables were taken, and he convinced a farmer to slide over a stool so they could sit together at the counter. The farmer took one look at Kennedy, smiled and obliged.

As they sat on the cushioned vinyl stools, Luke caught himself looking at her reflection in the chrome behind the counter. She'd braided her dark hair, since it was still wet, in a thick plait that fell between her shoulder blades. She wore no make-up and her skin was a healthy color now, not as pale as she'd been the first night she'd come to him. Her eyes shone as she smiled at the waitress and some of the confidence she'd always carried had returned. He wasn't sure what to make of that.
 

His gaze fell to her wrists as she rested her arms on the counter. The chafing on her wrists seemed more pronounced in the florescent lights, and he winced, wanting to cover them.

"Are y'all new around here, or passing through?" the waitress, Jolene, asked as she stood before them, poised with an order pad.

"Luke has land near here, so we're spending a couple of days."

The farmer next to Kennedy perked up. "Land near here? Where are you?"

"Out Highway 90 a bit, closer to here than Seguin, off Farm Road 2091," Luke said.

"The old Evans place?"

Luke nodded, surprised the man reasoned it out so quickly.
 

"What are you going to do there?"

"Some cattle, some horses. Needs work first."

The older man nodded. "Empty a long time. Sad thing. Old man Evans had real pride there. He had a garden that could grow any damned thing, kept a couple of dairy cows in addition to his beef cattle. And could build anything you'd ever want."

Luke got the feeling he was being measured and found lacking in comparison. "I'm looking to build a corral and train rodeo stock."

"Luke rides for the rodeo now," Kennedy piped up. "A bulldogger."

The farmer's gaze slid over Luke's shoulders and chest, and Luke got the feeling he was thinking what Luke himself had just figured out--he was no better than a gambler, hoping his skill was enough but taking a chance every time he rode. When the waitress returned with their coffee, he saw something different in her eyes, the opposite of the farmer.
 

"I guess it's too much to hope she's your sister," Jolene said with a wink, motioning to Kennedy.

Luke smiled in return as he lifted the steaming cup to his lips. "Not my sister."

"Too bad," Jolene said, and sashayed off.

Luke glanced at Kennedy, who was grinning.
 

"Does that happen a lot?"

He lifted a shoulder. How was he supposed to answer that?

"How often do you take them up on it?" she pursued.

"Not as often as Liam."

"Well, Liam's a man-whore. So. You. How often?"

He turned his head to look at her. "You want a number?"

She hesitated. "I'll settle for an estimate."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Come on."

"Why do you want to know?"

Again, she paused. "I don't know. I guess I never thought of your life like that before."

"You didn't think I got laid?"

"Maybe I didn't want to think about it," she said quietly, turning her attention to her own coffee.
 

Well, hell, what did
that
mean? Women. He didn't get it.

Jolene didn't come back to get their order for awhile, the place was so busy, and his stomach growled, protesting the coffee on an empty stomach. When Jolene returned, she was harried and apologetic.

"Running me off my feet today," she said. "You decided?"

"Why are you by yourself when it's this busy?" Kennedy asked after she'd placed her order.

"I finally got Mark, the owner, to agree to hire another waitress. We just put the help-wanted sign in the window." She nodded toward the front door.
 

Kennedy straightened. "A breakfast waitress?"

"Mostly. Some evenings, too." Jolene angled her head. "You looking for a job?"

"I need a job," Kennedy replied, like she was testing the words.

"You ever waitress?"

"In college."

Jolene's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't look like it was too long ago."

"Almost ten years ago."

Jolene shrugged. "Not much has changed. Would he be coming in if you worked here?" She nodded her head toward Luke.

"He'll be heading out on the circuit soon."

Jolene pursed her lips. "I'll get you an application."

When she walked away, Luke leaned close. "What are you thinking?"

She squared her shoulders. "Okay, you might think I'm crazy, but what if I stay here? At your house? I could look after it, maybe do some stuff like paint or something, keep it mowed and cared for while you're on the road, and I could work here and save up some money? I know it's asking a lot of you, but I could do something."