Hot Damn (5 page)

Nash loped across the arena and snatched his hat from the ground pausing once to acknowledge the crowd with a wave. Several rodeo clowns ran up for back slapping as several more clowns untied the bested steer and shooed him out of the arena.

Pride shot through Scarlet’s blood, warming her to her toes.

He was very, very good, she thought. Tomorrow night he’d participate in the bull riding event. The crown jewel of the rodeo. She’d be here, she knew, but tonight? Well, tonight this cowboy was all hers.

Chapter Four

Sweetridge was a small town and it had only taken a quick inquiry at the local grocery store, to find Peachtree Lane. Nash sat parked in the driveway in front of Scarlet’s house and fell in love.

Man, Mama Rose would love this place, he thought, as he studied the old but well-maintained Victorian. Painted a slate gray, it had black shutters and a lace-covered etched glass door. All the trim was painted black to match. From where he sat, he saw huge iron urns filled with crimson geraniums on either side of the entry. Their brothers were placed strategically at other points on the enormous wrap-around front porch. An oak swing hung from two giant chains and several bentwood chairs and a nice table completed the seating arrangement.

Huge windows ran across the front of the house. Around one side were double French doors that he figured also led into the living room. Two trees, one pecan and one live oak, shaded the large front yard. Out in the street, young boys tossed a football, yelling and laughing, while a little girl drove a tiny, battery powered jeep down the sidewalk. It was hot pink and had Barbie painted on its side. He couldn’t help smiling.

When he’d been a very young boy, he’d imagined himself living in a place like this instead of the rundown trailer park he and his poor sweet mother had called home.

Breathing in, feeling evening settle down around him like a song, Nash reached up and rubbed the heel of his hand over his heart. He would’ve loved calling a place like this home.

Brutally reminding himself that he was only a visitor here in this quaint little town, he grabbed a paper sack that contained the steaks and other things he’d picked up at the store.

When he climbed out of the truck holding the sack in one arm, he shut the door and turned to find Scarlet standing at the open front door watching him.

She was a funny kind of woman.

Women he’d dated in the past would’ve waited for him to walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. They might even have made him ring it twice so he wouldn’t think they were waiting. Games. He preferred things straight up and honest.

He’d pretty much figured Scarlet Ballew wasn’t much of a game-player and he sure liked that about her. Since she was dressed casually, in shorts and some kind of tiny tank top thing, he was glad he’d gone for comfort himself. Tonight after his shower, he’d tugged on a black t-shirt to tuck into his oldest pair of jeans. Black shit-kickers completed the whole of his wardrobe. He wasn’t much for getting fancy for a woman.

For Scarlet, it might be worth it.

Her inky hair trailed, thick and shiny, past her shoulders, her skin was flawless, soft-looking. He wanted to nip the tender flesh of that ultra- long neck with his teeth. Lick the spot. Kiss it. Soothe her.

Take her.

“Hey,” she called, smiling, as she headed down the front steps. He noticed she was barefoot and her toes were painted drop-dead-sexy red.

Ah, man.

Those legs seemed to climb all the way to heaven, and the tan shorts? They stretched across the sweetest little ass he’d ever seen.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Here let me take that.” She reached for the big paper sack and he held it aside.

“Nope. That’s my job.” Nash reached into the sack and pulled out a cellophane wrapped bundle of assorted flowers. “You can carry these, darlin’. They’re for you.”

“Oh my God. You are the sweetest.” Up she came on her tip-toes as she pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. The spot tingled and her delicious scent filled his head. She made him hungry. 

Funny how women lit up over flowers. He’d never understood the reaction but he smiled as her green eyes sparkled over the gift.

Nash followed her toward the house, up the steps and went through the front door. Something clean but spicy hit his senses and he saw several huge, squat candles lit and shimmering from the center of an oversized coffee table. He smelled cinnamon and something coming from the kitchen and his mouth watered as he took in Scarlet’s space.

“This is nice,” he said, feeling lame because nice didn’t begin to describe it. Everything was big, wide open and airy. Still there was a cozy feel to the place that had his blood pumping warm in his veins. For a man who’d never had a home of his own, a real home, that was saying something. That spot over his heart ached again as he took off his straw cowboy hat.

“Thanks. Here let me take that.” Scarlet took his hat and settled it on an old fashioned hat stand that sat in the foyer near the front door. Expansively, she held out her arms still holding the flowers in one hand. “Well? You like it?”

Clutching the sack, he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be wanting a tour later.”

Scarlet blushed crimson. “God. I’m a moron. Sorry. Come on. Let’s get these things put away.”

Nash followed her through the living room and directly into the dining room. It was a very old fashioned house and big doors were opened wide between the two rooms. Scarlet preferred leaving it all open, he realized. Finally, they made it to the large, homey kitchen.

“Ah, what’s that smell?”

Scarlet motioned to the oak kitchen table and he set down the sack. He watched her glide toward the oven, and yeah, stared at her gorgeous backside, until she flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “That would be homemade cherry cobbler.”

She grabbed two potholders from the countertop and opened the oven door. Heat blasted into the room but then he forgot all about that as he stared at the flaky, golden crust with cherry stuff bubbling all around the edges. Unable to resist, he peeked over her shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“Mmm. You made this?”

Scarlet laughed and set the cobbler aside before smacking him with a flimsy little potholder. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

He held up both hands. “Whoa. I’ve just never known a woman as pretty as you who could actually cook.”

“Hey, our mamas raise us right here in Sweetridge.”

“I can see that.”

While she set the cobbler aside, he went to the sack and started to unload it. Two t-bones were set aside and he pulled out two bottles of wine.

Scarlet’s dark brows lifted. “Two? What are you plannin’ here tonight, cowboy?”

He laughed. “Nothing sinister. I know you’re supposed to have red with steak but some people don’t like it so I bought white, too.”

Scarlet snatched the white from one hand and grinned. “Let’s have a glass of the white now. Unless you’d prefer something else.”

“That’s fine. We’ll have a glass of red with dinner, how’s that?”

“Perfect.”

When she reached into a drawer for a corkscrew, he took it from her. “Let me. It’s the least I can do after you invited me to dinner so sweetly.”

He watched her blush as she was no doubt remembering exactly what they were doing at the time. “Okay. I’ll um…put some rub on the meat. I have a little bar set up against one wall in the dining room. You’ll find some wine glasses there.”

Nash watched her reach into a cupboard for some stuff, so he fetched the glasses and came back in to pour them two glasses of wine. He’d bought it already chilled so it was ready to drink.

Clutching the glasses, he turned and studied her as she worked sprinkling stuff on the steaks. She was as pretty from the back as from the front, he thought, noting the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips beneath her shorts. There was something really sexy about a woman, barefoot and comfortable, puttering around in her own kitchen. When she reached for something on the counter, he saw that her fingers were long and elegant and unlike those cute toes, they were bare of polish.

Walking up, he set the wine down near her and lifted his own glass for a sip. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “While I’m doing this, would you find us some music?”

“No problem.” He carried his glass into the living room, spotted her iPod on a docking station and immediately scrolled through her stash of tunes. His eyes widened at the eclectic mix of country, jazz, rock and oldies. The classic Stones songs and some of Indy pop tunes appealed but in the end, he decided he wasn’t in the mood for rock. Not tonight.

Within moments, smoky jazz slithered through the room as Billie Holiday crooned a seductive song. A wailing sax followed him as he returned to the kitchen. Scarlet stood, back pressed against the kitchen counter, staring off into the distance, a tiny smile on her face, her eyes soft and dreamy. When she saw him, she laughed a little self-consciously. “I love her,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a surprising man. I figured you for a country-all-the-way kind of guy.”

As Billie sang a sexy song about her Lover Man, Nash lifted his glass a bit. “A surprise a minute.”

When she raised her own glass to her lips and took a sip, he saw her gaze chase off. Nerves. He could feel them practically sizzling off her body and he didn’t want that.

He’d just met her the night before but there was something so familiar about her. It was as if he knew her. Had known her for years. He walked up and took the glass from her hand feeling the alertness that zipped through her body. Setting the glass on the counter next to his own, he shifted his stance to cage her in. He propped a hand on either side of her and leaned low enough that if he moved the tiniest bit, he’d be kissing her.

“Been wanting to do this since I saw you standing there with that sexy smile on your face.” Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and took the kiss slow. Teasing her with his lips, he pressed fully against her soft curves, heard the sexy little sound she made as she opened to him. His tongue slipped deep into the heat of her mouth and he tasted her acceptance, hot and sweet. He kissed her endlessly, drinking her breath, feeling her body quiver against him like a racehorse at the starting gate.

Lust whipped through him.

Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation. Her lush curves were more temptation than most men could handle. Desire reached up and grabbed him as he sank against her. The need to possess lashed through him, primitive and savage.

Spearing his fingers through her hair, he grabbed a fistful of the silky stuff and drew her head back. He buried his lips against her throat, staking his territory there. Nibbling, tasting her warm flesh, he felt himself go hard. Behind the fly of his jeans, he throbbed. He wanted to take her now. Quick and hot.

Answering the demand, he stroked that hard length against her core. He made a hungry sound against the sweet-smelling flesh of her throat. “You burn me up,” he muttered. He took her mouth again, changing the angle as her arms clutched his waist. “Have to feel you, Scarlet. All of you.”

Reaching down he clasped her knee and lifted her, opened her. He slid his erection over her core, feeling her soften, feeling her move. Whoa. She had some moves.

Nash held her leg in place around his hips as he filled the other hand with her breast. She gasped into his mouth and he drank the sound, tasted her response.

The feel of her breast against the palm of his hand sent desire careening through him. She was lush, firm, and the thrust of her nipple against his fingers threatened to send him over the edge.

“Sweet.” His voice went rough. His thumb gently flicked the tender spot and he felt it go stiff beneath the pads of his fingers. Looking down, he watched as he plied her nipple.

Scarlet gasped and her head dropped back. “Nash.”

“I want my mouth there.”

“Yes.”

“Too soon.” He thrust his length between her thighs, felt her heat burning through layers of cloth. Too many damn clothes.

Nash knew he’d die if he didn’t touch her skin. Releasing her breast, he dipped his hand down and then cruised it up again beneath that little, stretchy top. Her belly was warm, her flesh resilient.

God.

No bra.

The hot, quivering, flesh of her breast sank into his hand like a prayer. Muttering a curse against her lips, he plucked the tiny hard nipple with his fingers, heard her breath suck in, and he plucked again, offering to ease the delicious torment. He wanted his mouth there. He wanted to taste that flesh with his tongue and suckle hard until she went wild against him.

Like a flash fire burning strong, whipping out of control, he thrust against her heat. She was wet. He knew she had to be. Every curve she possessed, and she possessed plenty, quivered as she tried to get closer.

“Damn,” he murmured, backing out of the kiss. He looked down at his hand burrowed beneath her top. He flexed his fingers.

“Nash. Yes.” She gasped the words.

He’d had enough and not nearly enough. Yanking his hand from her breast, he flipped open the button on her shorts, heard the zipper rasp, before he plunged his hand into her panties.

“Ah, yeah. Wet.”

“Please.”

“Damn. You feel so good.” His fingers found her slick center. She was swollen. Yeah. He found the little knot and plucked it gently.

Scarlet cried out and buried her face against his chest. “Give it up, honey,” he whispered against her hair. Sweat beaded his brow as he fought for restraint. He was drowning in an ocean of temptation. “A little more. That’s it. Almost there.”

She moved like lightning against his questing fingers and then he plunged two of them deep into her hot, little body. Scarlet splintered apart with a wild cry, jerking against him.