Stranded and Straddled (2 page)

She squeaked. Fell still. Then struggled like a catfish on a hook. With her arms trapped in the blanket, he had the advantage. He slid his arms around her burritoed body and brought his lips within inches of hers.

“Is it that asshole Wagner?”

She gave a quick shake of her head, but he could see she was lying. The pink flush on her high cheekbones told him so. Yes, he knew this little darlin’ better than she gave him credit for. The two-cup coffee pot sputtered to a finish, but he ignored it. She was hot enough right here in his arms, and didn’t need a warm beverage.

“Lacey. I know it’s Wagner. I’ve heard rumors.”

Her eyes sparked. “So what if it is?”

He stared at the smattering of freckles on her upturned nose, then dropped his gaze to her ripe lips. Mint-scented breath crossed his face. A dark pressure built in his groin, but it filled a good portion of his chest cavity too.
I’ll be damned if Wagner wins her.

“The man is gay.”

“What?” Outrage flashed over her features. A damp tendril of hair fell away from her ear, revealing the pink outer shell that had driven him wild so many times.

He licked his lips. “Gay. I’ve heard—”

“Rumors,” she finished, squirming inside the blanket burrito. She fought hard for a second. Her knee came dangerously close to his man-parts, which only brought another laugh from him.

She tried to knee him again, purposely this time. “He is not gay. They’re just rumors.”

“How do you know?” He eyed her, daring her to tell him that she’d slept with the arrogant asshole everyone on the rodeo circuit hated. What if she did say she’d been with Wagner? Would Trace let her go?

She dropped her gaze to his mouth. Chest rising and falling as if she’d run a marathon, she bit her lower lip.

Damn, could she get any more perfect?

No, he wouldn’t give her up
.
The travel trailer rocked on its axles as another blast of wind slammed it.

“I just know. Besides, the only way you could know he’s gay is if you’ve been on the receiving end of—”

“Oh, don’t even finish that thought, you little wildcat.” Swooping in, he stole a kiss. The initial crush of their lips made them both turn to statues. For several heartbeats, he drank in her scents, mind swirling out of control with the need to attack her mouth, throat, breasts, the slippery folds between her thighs. Stake his claim.

His cock swelled to its full length.

Her lips parted on a gasp, and he plunged his tongue deep.

* * * * *

The invasion of Trace’s tongue stole the rigidity from Lacey’s very bones. She melted in his hold, heat spreading through her like a dry grass wildfire. His flavors swirled through her head, along with memories of them together so poignant that tears pricked her closed eyelids.

In her mind’s eye, she saw him grinning at her right before he jumped onto a bull’s back, and remembered the leather fringe of his chaps under her fingers before he left the chute. She could feel the light scrape of his facial hair as he plowed a path down between her breasts, over her belly to her mound. How many hours had they lain in that bed in the back of this trailer, spinning cotton-candy dreams of how they’d spend his money if he won?

Her arms, pinned to her sides by his strength, ached inside the blanket. The hardness of his body always awakened hers, and cream squeezed from her pussy.

For a moment, she gave in to the reunion kiss, sucking on his tongue, then dragging her teeth over his lip even as he nipped at hers.

A groan vibrated his chest, reminding her too much of that night when he’d flipped, gone off like a wild beast and trashed his trailer.

Trashed my dreams.

She couldn’t be with a man who let himself get so out of control. It was too much like her daddy. While she loved her father and agreed to work with him on the tour, she had seen too many of his rages to tie herself to a similar man forever.

She tore away.

Lord help her, he followed. Before she could stop it, the whimper of want broke from her throat.

Trace’s dark gaze pierced her. The slanting shape of his eyes had always done something to her insides. He looked as if he was permanently squinting into the sun. Damn his adorable denim-covered ass to hell.

He leaned in for another round of melt-your-panties-off kisses.

“No, Trace.”

He stopped, lips hovering a breath from hers. “No?”

Her mind reeled. Had she said no? Her pussy ached for release, and her nipples were bunched up like two hard jewels, begging his thieving fingers to steal her resistance.

She quivered.

That seemed to be answer enough for him. In one swift motion, he was on his feet with her rolled in the blanket against his chest. He took two strides to the nook that housed the bed. One time—only once—she’d slipped onto the back of a bull. Right before it had thrown her on her ass, her belly had suddenly dropped to the toes of her boots, and her heart had raced.

Just like now.

The blue cotton loomed up around her as he placed her in the center of the mattress. He followed her down, crushing her perfectly. Her joints flexed under his strength and weight, and it felt oh so good.

How had she lived without this man for so long? She’d missed him, though she hadn’t admitted it to herself.

He slipped his hands into the opening of the blanket and found her body. The way he even gripped her waist nearly sent her screaming with want. Panting hard, she fought for control of her senses. What was she doing? Giving in to this hot cowboy’s animalistic needs—which she shared—wouldn’t do her heart any good. She’d grieved for him for weeks after her decision to leave him, but her reasons were sound.

Even now.

“Trace.”

He supported his weight on his arms, and she missed the feel of him immediately. A small window cut into the side of the trailer allowed in a beam of light. It lit the dark brown hair on his jaw and the shadow over his upper lip. She was frightened that walking away from him a second time wouldn’t be so easy. All the reasons she’d left seemed so far away.

A light raking noise sounded on the pillow above her. She twisted. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a small object sliding toward her.  Metal hit her in the temple, and she winced.

Panic crossed Trace’s face. The muscles in his body stiffened one by one, a chain that ended in worry on his rugged features.

She freed her hand and located the metal on the pillow by her right ear. The instant she closed her fingers around the object, she recognized it.

The intricate metal curls of her grandmother’s hair clip.

Gasping, Lacey jackknifed into a half-sitting position, knocking heads with Trace as she did. Grunting, he rolled to the side, watching her through squinted eyes as she examined the clip she’d thought lost long ago.

Her breathing grew ragged, and confusion settled in her brain. “What… Why do you have this?”

“You left it.” His lost little boy voice swelled her heart. It gave a hard squeeze, flipped, and raced out of control.

“And you have it here on your bed. Why?” She looked from the heirloom clip to his face.

He bowed his head. “I keep it on my pillow.”

Her belly dropped out as her emotions pitched on the roller coaster of what it meant to love Trace. Up and down, highs and lows. But she’d loved him from the start.

And he’d obviously kept her clip on his pillow for a reason.

“Oh Trace,” she murmured.

Holding her gaze, he removed the clip from her hand and tucked it beneath the pillow. Bundling her long hair in one fist, he yanked it lightly until the strands gave a delicious pull on her scalp. He pressed her down onto her back again and rolled atop her.

Her chest rose and fell sharply as she fought with her lust, passion, want—utter need—of this man. God, she’d missed him.

“Know what I intended to do with that money I didn’t win, baby?” His harsh tone made her focus.

“No.”

He groped on the bed until he found her hand. Stroking her ring finger, he said, “I wanted to put a ring here. Make you mine forever, Lacey.”

A sob burst from her even as joy exploded in her heart. She hooked her leg around his waist and jerked his body into hers. Surging upward, she kissed him.

He ripped at her clothes, devouring her mouth with long sweeps of his tongue. She plucked at the pearl buttons of his Western shirt. Each inch of warm, steely flesh she exposed, she caressed. Her mouth watered for a taste of his skin.

Rearing back, he tugged her shirt over her head. She kicked at his boots, then he kicked at hers until four thuds hit the floor. In a flurry, their jeans followed. When he reached her lace bra and panties, he went deadly still.

His hot gaze seared a path over her exposed flesh, down then back up until she thought she’d come unglued.

After a long minute, he slid his gaze up to meet hers. The column of his throat moved as he swallowed. “Don’t leave me. I swear I’ll never lose my temper like that again.” The truth burned in his eyes.

With a soft noise of understanding and agreement, she hooked a hand around his nape and pulled him down again.

He shimmied out of his tighty-whities and peeled away her lace. He kneeled over her, his gaze blazing heat over her skin. Her nipples throbbed.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He closed his fingers over her buds, twisting, stroking in perfect tempo to the pulse between her thighs. Juices slicked her folds. She smoothed her hand over the dips and swells of his chest, aware of his cock waving over her belly.

As if he couldn’t wait another moment, he prostrated himself on her, mouth on her nipples. The rake of his teeth against her sensitive flesh drew quiet whimpers from her. When he slid a hand over her landing strip of curls to the slick heat of her, she threw her head back and lost herself in sensation.

He glided a finger over her hard pearl, down over the soaking outer lips, and plunged into her core. She cried out, bucking against his touch. The heel of his hand ground into her clit, and oh, it had never been so intense, so good.

With his mouth at her ear, he spoke rough and dirty words. “Come on my fingers, baby. This body, this tight pussy” —he curled his finger over her perfect inner spot, making her wild— “is going to contract and pulsate until you soak me with juices. Then I’m going to lick my finger clean while you grab my cock at the root and guide it right into your pussy.”

“Yes!” A bright orb of release was on the horizon, a starburst so bright in the sky she couldn’t give a thought to the storm raging outside. She reached for that burning sun as he slipped his finger over her nerves once, then again.

Orgasm rushed her, towed her under, raked her flat. Mouth open on a silent scream of bliss, she stopped breathing. When she came back to herself, he was pumping her more slowly, his eyes scorching with lust.

He rocked the heel of his hand into her clit one more time, sending aftershocks of ecstasy into her body. The corner of his lips quirked into a self-satisfied, bad-boy smile. Then he pulled his hand free and licked it with long tormenting strokes that sent her flying again.

“In that drawer—a condom. I reckon the box I had last time I was with you is still good.”

Heart warmed by his words, she reached into the tiny drawer that held his toothbrush, a bandanna, and a pack of condoms. She ripped the packet with her teeth and spat out the foil.

His chiseled abs dipped with laughter. But when she captured his length and rolled the condom over it, he sobered.

Hauling him back in with her heels on his spine, she gripped his cock at the root, and as instructed, guided his thick head to her pussy. Any resistance she may have harbored fled as he filled her in one solid shove. When her walls parted around him, love speared her.

“Holy Mother of God,” he groaned, pulling out to the tip and driving in once more. She watched the spasms of pleasure cross his face. Toe-curling heat spiraled through her with each long, determined stroke.

Her body clenched around him, still primed from his fingering. Locking her hands on his biceps, she stared straight into his eyes as he made her his more than any ring ever could. Emotion mingled with sensation.

“I can’t…hold back.” He bit the words off, his expression of wild abandon much like the one he wore while riding two thousand pounds of angry bull.

Lacey rocked beneath him. “Don’t.”

He brought his lips to hers at the moment she started to pulsate. Her pussy gripped him as the burning in her core raged out of control. His muscles grew taut, coiled, and he came with a primal roar.

When she claimed her senses again, a solid shoulder lay against her lips. She stuck out her tongue and licked it.

“Mmm.” He rolled off her and sat on the bed to dispose of the condom. Then he curled up with her again, his eyes closed, the lashes impossibly long against his tanned cheeks. She admired them for a minute, visions of little girls with those very lashes tripping through her besotted mind.

He opened his eyes and caught her staring. “Never thought I’d have you here in my arms and in my bed again.”