Cowboy Bargain (The Dalton Boys Book 2) (8 page)

He looked at Maya, the only person on the dance floor he saw. His family and guests had crowded onto the floor, and the music kicked up into an old-fashioned, boot-stomping tune.

Cash caught Maya out of her father’s arms and reeled her against him until their hips bumped. “Nice boots,” he rumbled before dipping his head to get a taste of her.

Chapter Six

Maya couldn’t remember a time in her life she’d had as much fun as she’d had on her wedding day. Deep down, she knew this kind of happiness couldn’t have happened if not for the Daltons.

Without the help of all—Witt and Beck carrying benches outside, Hank and Kade building the dance floor, Mrs. Dalton and Charlotte cooking huge pans of ribs and preparing enough salads to feed half of Maya’s old city block for a week—she wouldn’t have the day that would live forever in her memory.

Even her father and Mr. Dalton had pulled their weight in the preparations by landscaping the area and picking wildflowers. The thought of two rough men tripping out through the fields for flowers made her giggle.

Cash’s big hands came down on her shoulders. He pulled her back flush against his chest. “What do you say we make our exit?”

She twisted her head to look at him. “But the party hasn’t finished yet. The guests are still here.”

“They don’t expect us to stick around. They’ll dance till midnight, and then Pa will haul out a barrel of moonshine, and they’ll sit around a fire and tell stories long after.” He slid his hand down her arm, raising every hair in his wake. Twining their fingers together, he tugged.

She followed, heart thumping. They crossed the yard to waves and a few low whistles that made her face heat. As the music grew quieter behind them and the night enveloped them, anticipation and nerves took over.

Cash stroked his thumb over her palm. She focused on the action and how he made her feel—protected, cherished. Desired.

As they rounded the corner of the barn, the trailer came into view. She stopped dead at the sight. Someone had strung twinkle lights all over the trailer.

When Cash shot her a smile over his shoulder, her insides tightened. “Fit for a weddin’ night, wouldn’t you say?”

“Y-yes.”

Without warning, he scooped her off her feet. She squealed as he stormed across the yard to the trailer. He shifted her weight onto one arm to open the door. Wreathing his neck with her arms, she clung to him. Aware of his hardness and masculine scent. He’d long ago abandoned his tie, and his shirt collar hung open, revealing a V of tanned neck.

She pressed her lips to it.

He froze.

The salty skin beneath her mouth ignited her. She parted her lips and touched the tip of her tongue to his flesh.

A shudder rolled through him. In one swift move, he trapped her against the side of the trailer, legs hitched around his middle, kissing her like a man on his last day.

As he swiped his tongue through her mouth, need flared hot and bright inside her. She sank her nails into his scalp, loving his growl of appreciation. She nipped his lip, and he rocked his hardness against her.

The tiny lace panties Charlotte had insisted on for her wedding day was no barrier against his inches. He wanted her, and she was soaking wet for him.

When he wedged his thigh between hers, settling her on hard muscle, she moaned.

“You’re so damn beautiful, darlin’. You like what I’m doing to you?”

She nodded, mind riveted on one thing—extinguishing the fire. She tugged him down for another kiss, and he sank his tongue deep. For long minutes she gave herself up to him.

Slowly she became aware of him fumbling with her dress.

“Damn these layers of cloth. I loved seeing them swirl around your curvy legs all day, but now they are… In. My. Way.”

Her laugh turned to a gasp as his rough fingers found her drenched center. He pressed the lace against her pussy. She bucked into his hand.

“Hell, you’re soaked. So ready for me.”

“Mmm.” She bit his earlobe, and he stole her breath by sinking a finger into her pussy, lace and all. Intense lust turned her into a wildcat. Crying out, she pushed against his finger, urging him deeper. Needing more.

The ridge of his shaft dug into her hip, when she wanted it between her thighs. She tried to move. The twinkle lights shifted, raining lights around them.

“Not yet, darlin’.” Holding her gaze, he eased a finger under the elastic of her panties. When callus met slick folds, they both groaned.

“Kiss me,” she begged.

“Damn straight.” He plunged his tongue into her mouth as he drove a finger between her netherlips. She clenched around the invasion.

“You’re gripping me so…tight.” He bit off the words, the planes of his face hard with want. He withdrew his finger and slammed it back into her, the heel of his hand coaxing her clit into a hard knot.

Tossing her head back, she panted around sensation. He was pushing her up a steep slope—fast. She clenched around his finger, and when he added a second, she thought she’d lose her mind.

“More…yes. Cash, so good,” she cried.

His harsh breaths washed over her scorching flesh. As his hand brushed her clit and his finger worked her, a low quiver began. She opened her mouth on a gasp, and he took advantage.

His mouth slammed over hers. She writhed closer, tongue flicking against his, wriggling against his touch. Passion flared, and on the heels, a release so huge she couldn’t stifle her sounds.

She pulsated, waves of ecstasy suspending her in some crazy headspace she didn’t know existed. He continued to kiss and finger her, drawing twitches and small gasps from her.

When she came to her senses, she met the bright burning gaze of her husband. He tipped his forehead against hers, breathing raggedly.

“I’ve seen sunrises that would make a common man like me paint. The hairs on my forearms have stood up at the sight of horses running wild. But darlin’…seeing you come apart for me was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

* * *

Someone—probably Charlotte—had placed two small white satin pillows embroidered respectively with Mr. and Mrs. on the sofa bed. Cash laid his bride on them, gut clenching with need as her silken hair spilled against the white.

“Mrs. Dalton, welcome to your humble home for the next few weeks until I’ve got a house ready for you.”

Or months.
At the rate it was taking them to build Hank’s home, he and Maya wouldn’t be in a place for a year. He shoved the thought aside and focused on the rose-lipped vixen sprawled on the mattress.

Her juices still coated his fingers, her aroused scents socking him hard. He stuck his two fingers in his mouth and sucked.

A soft noise left her, and his forced himself to focus on going slow.

“Where’d your tie go?” she asked, eyes soft.

“Last I saw it, Beck had it around his head.”

She giggled. “Oh yes. He was quite a hit on the dance floor.”

“When he smacked old Mrs. Turner on the behind, I thought she’d punch his teeth out. But she just laughed.” He shook his head. As he stared down at his bride, all thoughts of the reception fled.

He closed his fingers over his shirt buttons and began to free each one. She watched, tracing her lower lip with his tongue.

As he noted the fire in her eyes, he realized this marriage was more than a green card to her too. She’d been so responsive. There was no faking attraction or desire.

Slowly he peeled his shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“You’re just going to leave your shirt there?” she asked.

“Yep.” He reached for her feet. Each boot was well-crafted. Good quality. And they molded to her shapely calves like a second skin. Holding her gaze, he pulled off one then the other.

And laughed.

Under the boots she wore bright blue socks.

“Somethin’ blue?”

“Yep,” she imitated him with his own drawl. Then she tugged a chain around her neck, lifting a pendant into view. A cross. “My mother’s.”

“She would have been so happy to see your smiling face today,” he said.

She nodded.

His face creased into a grin as he stripped off her socks. Then he raised her ankle and brought it to his lips. The bones were fine beneath his mouth and tongue. As he kissed and licked up to the inside of her knee, she twisted her fingers into the covers.

Lightly, he sank his teeth into her flesh, and she arched upward.

So responsive. So beautiful.

“I want to touch you.” Her voice came out as a rasp.

He eased onto the mattress, covering her with his body as the sofa springs groaned and squeaked. They shared a laugh.

“First thing we buy is a new bed.”

“Yes.” Breathless now, she caressed his shoulders down to his chest, her gaze tracking her exploration. The way her eyes darkened told him how much she enjoyed touching him. Pride for all the hard work that had sculpted his body burned in his chest.

She fanned her fingers over his pecs, her pinkies brushing his nipples.

He sucked in a breath.

“You like that?” she cooed.

His throat was tight, his jeans tighter. “I like everything you do to me.” It was true. Even when she argued with him, he got a kick out of it.

She flicked his nipples a second time, and he swooped in for a kiss. Her mouth was hot and delicious. Each thrust of his tongue was met by hers, and she rocked her hips into him.

He let her feel all his weight—and every inch. She moaned, and he ground his hips.

Tearing his mouth free, he said, “I want this to last forever, but truth is, I’m pretty pent up after waiting for you so many days.”

She blinked. “We’ve only known each other a few days.”

“Yeah, and it was enough to drive me crazy. Besides, I feel as if I knew you for weeks before you got off the plane.”

“Surely you weren’t excited by that horrible photo my father gave you.” She chuckled.

He nibbled her lower lip. “The picture started me thinking about you in a lot of ways. Wondering about your personality. Your voice, your laugh.” He kissed a path to her ear and sank his teeth into her lobe. She squirmed, but he had her pinned.

Strange, but he wanted to keep her talking. Part of her charm was her sassy mouth, and he wanted her playful in bed—to set the tone for all their years to come.

“What do you think of my…” her breathing hiccupped as he poked his tongue into her ear, “laugh?”

He raised his head. “Like a hyena’s.”

She stilled—then fought him like a mountain lion. Laughing, he took several cuffs in the ear and a punch to the ribs.

“A hyena! You better believe you won’t be hearing much of my laugh if you say things like that to your wife.”

The word “wife” stopped them both. He braced himself on his elbows but kept her knees trapped under his in case she got any ideas about rooting him in the balls. The last thing he could do after a hit was make love.

“Maya,” he breathed. “I want you.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Me too.”

Slipping a hand under her, he searched for a zipper on her spine.

“It’s on the side.”

He moved to her torso, groping.

“Other side.”

He fumbled before catching a slim metal tab. Each rumble of the teeth was music to his ears. When the zipper was down, he pushed back to look at her. “Is there a trick to getting you out of this thing, darlin’? Because my patience is worn through.”

She wiggled one arm free of the short strap. Then the other. The honey-brown exposed skin ignited him. Biting off a groan, he gripped the cloth and shimmied it down her hips.

Breathing hard, he made note of each inch he wanted to kiss. By dawn he’d know all of her.

A scrap of white lace covered her breasts, but the nipples were dark brown and pushing against the fabric. And the dark patch of hair between her legs was quite visible through her lacy panties too.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting for his wits.

“Cash?” The uncertainty in her voice made him find his.

“You’re stunning. My wife.” He threw himself over her, kissing her deeply and thoroughly before moving down her throat, over her breasts. He tugged off her bra and spent long minutes worshipping each nipple. When he moved lower, he hardened like stone. Her aroused scent drove him crazy.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, guiding him down her body. He caught her panties in his teeth and tugged them down, exposing tanned belly then the trim patch of curls covering her mound.

He nuzzled her, nose brushing her clit. “I’m glad you have body hair. Holds your scent better.”

A quiet noise left her. Staring up at her, he delivered a long, slow lick, from bottom to top. Her flavors burst on his tongue. He planted his hands on her inner thighs, spreading her to him. With deliberate movements, he set about working her up again.

She was already wet from her previous release, and he gathered her juices with a groan. Passion was a bonfire in his chest. Rumbling in pleasure, he drove his tongue between her lips, into her heat.

Crying out, she bucked into his mouth. He didn’t know her well yet, but her restless movements spurred him to keep doing what he was doing. Under him, her muscles strained, her belly dipped.

Sliding his finger along her thigh, he coaxed open her folds while tonguing the hard knot of nerves at the top. A throaty moan escaped her. As he swirled his tongue and parted her wet walls with his finger, she grew louder.