Faith in the Cowboy (Taming the Cowboy) (7 page)

“You’re bad!” The giggle still wanted to bubble out, so her voice sounded choked.

“You won’t get in trouble for that, will you?” he asked, his tone a little sharper.

“I don’t—I think it felt a lot hotter than it looked.”

He winked at her as they pulled out onto the street. “Then I’m doing it right.”

“Did you work on the barn today?”

“Yeah, we got a lot done.”

His words dampened her euphoria. As soon as he was done, wasn’t he going to leave? She wanted to ask, but didn’t want to reveal that fear to him. She couldn’t let me knows how important he was becoming to her, after only a few days.

“So I found this little place on Liam’s land. I thought we could go spend some time.”

Her heart gave a little leap. “Spend some time doing what?”

“What I’ve been thinking about all day, since I saw you put that skirt on.”

This time the shimmer of excitement settled between her legs and she tugged at the hem. “You have?”

“All I could think about when I walked back into the RV this morning was you on that counter. Jesus, you were so sexy.”

Her whole body ran hot. “You make me want things I didn’t think I wanted.”

“Yeah?” He flashed her a grin. “Like what?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t tell him he made her think about having a man in her life again, a real man, one who would be there every day, would love her and Emily, would be there. Would be kind. The type of man she saw in movies and read about in books, always with a cynical eye. “I never really—got turned on like this. Never really thought about sex about something I could want.”

“Because of that asshole ex of yours?”

Because that was the easier answer, she nodded.

He reached across the cab and twined his fingers through hers, brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

He touched the tip of his tongue to the back of her hand, then rubbed it against his jaw. The roughness made her nipples hard and suddenly she couldn’t wait to see where they were going.

The place he’d found was a small grove of trees, just beginning to turn green, off a dirt road. He parked the truck and put the windows down. The breeze blew through the cab, carrying the promise of spring, but with just enough of a chill remaining to send goosebumps down her arms.

But maybe that was West, and his proposition to make love to her in his truck, in the middle of the day.

He slid from beneath the wheel and took her hand, pulling her over him. She settled onto him, hiking up her skirt a little, his jeans rasping the insides of her bare thighs. He chuckled, running his hands from her hips up her back, over the thin knit of her blouse. His calluses snagged on the fabric, and he grimaced.

“Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, stroking his hair back from his face. She’d never dated a guy with long hair before, never thought it was sexy until now. She tilted her head to angle her lips across his, kissing him lightly at first, a brush, then another before she settled over him, touching her tongue to his full lower lip, tracing it, then sliding inside.

He tasted of mint. He’d brushed his teeth before coming to get her. The idea made her smile against his mouth.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head and deepened the kiss, absorbing him, reaching between them to pop the snaps of his shirt, slide her hands inside, over his firm warm skin. She hummed in pleasure and he echoed the sound, covering her hands with his, his knuckles against her breasts, rubbing her tight nipples, at once relieving the tension and creating more. She pressed her pussy against the rise in his jeans. Damn, he looked so good in Wranglers, but they were going to be a pain to get off in the small confines of the cab.

She slid her hands down. He sucked in a breath to make it easier for her to unbutton his jeans, ease down his zipper. Again, no underwear. She stroked her thumb along the underside of his cock, feeling his pulse, quick and hot, a responding thrum in her pussy. He lifted his hips, her with it, and shoved down his jeans. She felt him running his hand down his cock, covering himself with the condom before he pushed her panties to the side and entered her, hard and fast, driving the breath from her.

She rested her hands on his shoulders, trying to get purchase, helping him find a rhythm. He placed his hands on the small of her back and guided her as he pushed up into her, the scent of her arousal filling the cab before sweeping out on the breeze, the sound of their joined bodies loud in the confined space.

Loud, but arousing.

The way his cock stretched her, deep inside her pussy, rubbing just right against the back wall. She moved into the sensation, languidly, leaning back. The angle let her clit rub against his body, making it swell, making her eager.

His breathing was ragged, filling the cab. She liked the sound of it, the way he sounded like he was holding onto control by his fingernails.

Because of her.

She framed his face in her hands and kissed him, long and deep, holding still over him, feeling him throb inside her. Then, when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she moved again, pumping until her thighs burned, his hands on her ass, fingertips rough on her tender skin as they rode the cleft of her ass, his touch exciting her with the intimacy.

His nostrils flared as he thrust up into her, his thighs tensing beneath her. She looked into his eyes, seeing so deeply inside her, it was as though he plucked a string that connected her heart to where they were joined. Her breath stuttered along with her emotions. Before she could think about what she was doing, could try to pull away, he slipped his hands up her thighs and brushed his thumb over her clit, so that each time she took him deep, he circled his touch on her.

Everything in her went tight, her thrusts fast and shallow. He groaned, this time his frustration clear. He lifted her, turning her onto her back on the seat, rising over her, taking over. She braced her foot on the steering column and felt the vibration of each thrust through the whole cab. He braced his hands over her, his chest against hers, slick with sweat despite the cool breeze, sexy as hell. She squirmed to open wider to him, letting him come deeper, letting him grind against her clit, and she was so close, so close.

He gripped her hands above her head, his body sliding against hers. He bent his mouth to the curve of her shoulder and neck, his beard rasping her skin, and there it was, just the spot. She rolled beneath him, unable to stop herself as the orgasm took over her body in waves. Above her, he choked out a breath, released her arms and steadied her hips as he pumped into her, sighed out his own climax.

He stretched out on the edge of the seat, tucking her against the back, his hands reverent on her body.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

His words sent warmth through her that had nothing to do with the heat from his body. The sensation was quickly followed by a chill of fear. She couldn’t want this. It would only get her hurt again. But she didn’t know how to stop.

“Hey, you’re home late,” Grace said brightly when she heard the door close. She stepped out of her bedroom and stopped when she saw Teresa. Her grin widened. “Never mind.”

Teresa touched a self-conscious hand to her hair. She probably looked a mess, since, on top of making love in the truck, they’d driven back with the windows down.

The gesture made Grace laugh. “It’s not your hair. It’s the beard burn and the very satisfied look on your face. You don’t usually come home from work looking so...happy.”

Teresa’s face heated. “We’re just having fun.”

“No shame in that.”

But the way Grace looked at her, Teresa knew she knew, knew she understood the turmoil rising in Teresa. Teresa didn’t know how to do fun, didn’t know how to shut down her emotions. And the way he touched her, looked at her, treated her, he made her hope.

She wasn’t good with hope.

“Hey, can you keep Noah tonight?” Grace asked, hooking an earring into her lobe. “Luke and Liam are going into the city to pick up the deck plans and Kennedy’s pregnancy is kicking her ass today.” Grace shook her head. “I had morning sickness, but she has it all day long. Worse, she’s past her first trimester. She may be sick her whole pregnancy.”

Theresa grimaced. She remembered the morning sickness, and the anxiety, and the fear.

“Sure, I’ll keep Noah.”

“He said he wants tomato soup and grilled cheese for supper. Is that okay?”

“My favorite,” she said brightly.

“You can make West dinner, too, if you want.” Grace’s eyes glinted.

“He’s not going with Luke and Liam?”

“No.”

Teresa’s heart bumped at the thought of spending the evening with him, no possibility of sex, just the two of them, and Noah who would go to bed at eight.

“He probably wants to spend some time alone.”

“He has enough of that. Invite him over.” Grace swung her bag on her shoulder and sashayed out the door.

Teresa just couldn’t. What was she going to do? Send Noah over? Text him? She didn’t have his number. And she had too much pride to go dancing over there to knock on his door.

She rounded up Noah and took him into the kitchen, set him to buttering the bread while she warmed up the skillet and opened the can of soup.

She jolted when Boomer started barking, and turned to see West in the doorway.

“Sorry.” He held up his hand to ease her. “Grace told me to come on over for dinner.”

She wiped her hair from her face with her wrist. “It’s just grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“My favorite.” He sauntered in, hands in his pockets. “What can I do?”

Stop being so damned sexy
. She swallowed and turned back to the stove. “You can stir the soup. Noah and I like crackers in ours. What about you?”

“You bet.” He pulled a chair over and placed Noah on it, handing him the spoon to stir the soup. “Be careful, buddy. It’s hot.”

Seeing the big man hunched over the little boy sent a twinge to her womb, an instinct older than time. And when West turned his head to smile at her, all her defenses melted. Why couldn’t she hold onto them around him? She thought that had been her strongest trait. She never expected them to dissolve in the smile of a handsome man.

A handsome man who seemed to like her for reasons she couldn’t understand, besides the obvious.

She flipped the sandwich on the cast-iron skillet and buttered more bread for another sandwich. West was a big guy, one sandwich wouldn’t be enough. Boomer bounced around her feet hopefully.

Once the sandwiches were done, she carried the plate to the table, stepping around the puppy, and grabbed the soup bowls from the cabinet. West hooked an arm around Noah’s waist and lowered him to the floor, patted his bottom to send him to the pantry for the crackers.

“Are you around kids often?” she asked, unable to stem her curiosity. She tried to bury so many questions because she didn’t want him to think she was thinking about anything other than having fun.

“Some.”

But his familiarity with Noah, including swinging him up into his booster seat, serving the right amount of soup, crumbling crackers into the bowl, cutting the grilled cheese in half, made her think there was more to it than that. She wondered, for a second, what Emily would think of him, but pushed the thought aside. They would never meet. West would be gone soon, and, well, God knew when she’d bring Emily home.

“Good,” he said when he took a bite of the sandwich.

She laughed softly. “You saw how much work it was.”

“Always nice when someone else does the work.”

He slid a look her way that made her blush, remembering the way she’d ridden him in the cab of the truck. He grinned and took a big bite.

After dinner, Noah and he cleared the table and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

“What’s the plan?”

“We like to play games. We just learned how to play slap-jack, and we have Hi-Ho Cherry-O and Candyland.”

“I’m good at Candyland.”

“Yeah! Me, too!” Noah said and charged out of the room, Boomer on his heels.

She wanted to ask why, why West was so nice, why he wanted to spend time with her. But before she could work up the nerve, Noah returned with the Candyland box, pieces rattling, Boomer barking at the sound. He jumped into a chair, sliding the box across the table in the same movement.

“I play blue,” Noah said, taking the lid off. “Teresa, you shovel.”

“Shuffle,” she corrected, taking a seat with her tea glass beside her. She wiped her hands on the skirt she still wore and reached for the stiff cards.

“What color do you want, West?”

“Whatever color Teresa doesn’t want.”

She placed the “shoveled” cards in the center of the board and Noah knelt in his chair, leaning on the table to pick first.

Teresa was amazed that she didn’t have to explain the rules to West, though admittedly it was a simple game. Noah loved having another competitor in the game, and his excitement when West’s place marker got too close was evident in his squirming and giggles. West in return teased him, pushing his place marker as close to the edge of his space as he could, like he was creeping up on the boy’s.

When Teresa tried to pretend she landed on a square that lost her a turn, Noah called her on it, pointing out she was in the wrong spot. West and she exchanged a look.

“Never underestimate,” she murmured.

“You should know better,” he agreed.

“No cheating,” Noah warned, taking a shortcut that put him ahead.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Absolutely.”

They played three games, Noah winning two and West winning one before Teresa called it and put the pieces away, closed the box and announced it was time for Noah’s bath. There was the requisite whining before she cut it off by swinging him into her arms and letting him pretend to be an airplane down the hall. As she ran the bath and Noah stripped happily, she peeked out the door to see West move into the living room to wait. Before he sat on the couch, he turned and waved. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling when Boomer jumped up beside him and licked his face. She was still smiling as she stepped back into the bathroom to monitor Noah’s bath.