The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (13 page)

He could get used to a lot of things if he weren't careful.

Chapter Sixteen

He seemed distracted, Caro thought, as they sat outside the trailer later that night. It was so unlike Chance that Caro wondered if there was something wrong.

“Were you unhappy with our performance?” she asked.

His green eyes shot to hers, and his handsome face flinched.

“God, no.”

And that was all he said. Two words. She supposed she should be grateful for that.

They'd stowed all the horse tack away in silence. Of course, her teammates had been around then and she hadn't been put off by his lack of talking. But then the girls had left—gone to a rodeo dance or something. Caro had changed into a gray T-shirt and jeans and joined Chance outside. Still nothing. They sat beneath the trailer's awning, watching the horses eat their dinner in the makeshift corral. The sun set slowly behind them.

“You're so quiet,” she ventured to say.

“Just tired.” He took a sip of his beer.

Maybe she should have gone with the girls. However, fending off the advances of drunken cowboys had never been her thing. And with the threat of James looming, she would have been a fool to step out of Chance's protective custody.

She grimaced. It would probably beat sitting next to him in silence, wondering what it would be like to be with him, to be his in every sense of the word.

“I'm going inside,” she said.

Ridiculous. It wasn't dark yet—not all the way. Dusk had dimmed the lights, but she could still see his face beneath his cowboy hat. He acknowledged her words with a tip of his beer bottle.

That hurt.

She had no idea why. She didn't want him to fawn all over her. She was too independent for that. A little conversation would be nice, though. So it would be far easier to be out of sight, where he'd be out of mind, and she would stop thinking about what might have happened if she'd met Chance before James. Things might have been different. She might not have felt so nervous, on edge and confused when he was near. Handsome cowboys had always been a weakness, but they were usually more trouble than they were worth and that was a lesson she should have learned by now.

“‘Night.” She started to turn away, but then quickly added, “Thanks for dinner.”

“Welcome.”

And that was that.

“Crap,” she muttered, slipping inside the trailer. “Crap, crap, crap, crap.”

She missed Inga. Maybe she should have brought the dog like Chance had said, but the thought of leaving her locked up in the trailer all day didn't seem right, not yet, at least. Not until she learned what it meant to travel. And so she'd left her behind. Now she wished she could hold her tight. Dogs loved people no matter how undeserving they were.

At least you're not afraid of Chance anymore.

She almost laughed. That was an understatement. Working together had changed that. Actually, last weekend, when he'd jumped to her defense, had changed that. The man would never hurt her. He would die trying to protect her. Actually
die
.
Some
men were worthy of love. James wasn't.

She sat down on the couch, and just like she had back at home, picked up a pillow and covered her face with it, screaming. She wanted to let loose some more. To deafen her own ears with her frustration, but she couldn't, not if she didn't want Chance charging in, coming to her rescue.

“What's wrong?”

She damn near dropped the pillow.

Chance.

“I heard you scream.”

“I, uh.” What to say? “Stubbed my toe.”

Lame.

“You stubbed your toe?” he repeated, glancing at her boot-clad feet.

He had to know she was lying. She'd never been very good at it.

“It was the bad leg. Jarred my ankle.”

His gaze narrowed. “Let me have a look.”

“No, no.” Because there he went again. Sir Galahad. The man could make her feel like a princess in need of rescuing. “I'm all right.”

Except her nipples were erect.

She caught a glimpse of them as she glanced down at her foot. She planted the pillow over her midsection so fast he glanced at her askance.

She could see the spark in his eyes. He knew she felt the current of electricity between them. That she'd had fantasies about him. That when they'd performed together it was all she could do not to kiss him after his so-called rescue.

He knew.

“I think maybe I should leave,” she said softly. She meant sleep somewhere else. Somewhere far from her thoughts and desires.

“Maybe you should.”

It was all the proof she needed to know she'd read him correctly. She stood, her humiliation so acute her cheeks burned with a nearly physical pain. He must think her one of those women, the kind that couldn't keep her hands off men and went from one man to the next. She wasn't that type at all. She'd spent weeks warning herself away from him, and look where it'd gotten her—more attracted to him than ever before.

“I'm sorry.”

She tried to rush past him, but he stepped in front of her. “Don't.”

She didn't want to look at him. She really didn't. “Don't what?”

He inhaled deeply before he said, “Don't leave. It's not safe out there.”

And it was then, at that precise moment, that Caro realized he fought it, too. That everything she felt, he did, too. That the desire coiling in her belly, teasing and taunting her, also teased and taunted him. Made his hands shake like hers. For some crazy, insane reason the realization made her want to cry.

Lord help her. Lord help them both.

“Maybe I could sleep with the girls—”

“No,” he said sharply. He lifted his hands, gently touched her cheeks. “Stop saying that.” He peered intently at her with eyes the color of jade. “You can stay right here, where you'll be safe.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She had never felt so cherished and cared for in her life. “Thank you,” she said softly. But now it was time to be brave. To be bold and do something she would never have done before James.

She stood on tiptoes and lightly kissed him.

He froze. She didn't move, either, just stared into his kind green eyes. And then she did another brave thing. She walked away. Outside. Into the cold night air. Where they wouldn't be tempted to do something crazy.

And that was the point.

* * *

S
HE
LEFT
HIM
standing there, and Chance wanted to follow. Lord, how he wanted to grab her hand, to jerk her to him. Instead he went to the fridge and grabbed another beer.

What the hell?

He removed his cowboy hat and tossed it onto the couch. He swiped a hand through his hair. What the hell was he thinking? She wasn't the one who should be leaving. He was.

“Caro, wait.”

He flung open the trailer door. She sat outside, and his relief she hadn't gone far made him clutch the door handle tighter. That's what happened when you became distracted. When you lost your focus. You lost sight of the objective. Keeping her safe was the objective.

“Come inside.” He took a deep breath, trying not to focus on how pretty she looked sitting in the half-light of dusk. His lips tingled where hers had brushed his own.

She looked up at him, and the gratitude in her eyes caused him to feel things he probably shouldn't.

“I'll sit outside and keep watch.”

“Like you did last weekend?”

Did she know he'd spent the whole night outside? True, she'd found him in the morning, but she couldn't know he'd been out there all night.

She knew.

“You don't have to do that,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap. “James wouldn't dare come after me with you around, not after what happened last time.”

No. He wouldn't. “Things are just easier if you come inside.”

She sighed and gazed at the horses. Her blond hair caught the fiery dusk light.

“What a pair we are,” she said. “Two grown adults. One of us who seems to be genetically programmed to pick the wrong man. Another one of us with a long history of keeping himself unattached, or so I've heard.”

Her words drew him out of the trailer. What was the point of trying to fight it anymore?

“I stay out of relationships for a reason,” he said.

She held out her hand. It took him a moment to realize she wanted a sip of his beer, a beer he'd forgotten he was holding. Watching her take a sip, seeing the way her lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle... Well, he needed to look away.

“I know,” she said. “Your sister told me.”

“Oh, yeah? What else did she tell you?” he asked, sitting next to her. This was a mistake. He should have stayed in the trailer. Or one of them should have.

“That you never let yourself get too close. You keep your distance as a way of protecting yourself. You stayed away all these years because you can't face the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

She pinned him with a stare. “That you're afraid.” She took another sip of his beer. “All the places you've been. All the gunfire you've faced, but the thing you most fear? Caring about something too much.”

“What?”

She nodded. “That's what Claire said.”

“She's wrong.”

She handed his beer back to him and shrugged. “Maybe.”

He stared at the opening of the bottle. He wasn't afraid of caring. He loved his family so much he fought for their freedom.

“But you know what I just realized?” She met his gaze again. “So what? You're a damn fine man, Chance Reynolds. Any girl would be lucky to spend just one night with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don't need commitment, or want it,” she said, leaning toward him. “I just want one night. And before you say it, I know you plan to leave soon and never come back. I understand.”

What was she saying?

“I'm going back inside the trailer.” She stood slowly. “I'll be waiting there for you. If you don't follow, that's okay. But if you do, I think it'll be a night neither of us will ever forget.”

She walked by, touching him on her way past, just a brief caress, but enough to convince him she was right.

Something awaited him. Something that might be remarkable and spectacular. Something he should maybe avoid at all cost.

Something he was helpless to resist.

Chapter Seventeen

Would he follow?

Lord, Carolina didn't know.

All she knew was she had to try. What if he was the man of her dreams? What if tonight was her one chance to hold him? What if she could convince him to stay?

She knew it likely wouldn't happen. Men like him didn't give up entire careers for women like her. But what if there was a chance he might?

He wasn't coming.

She stood in the middle of the trailer, waiting, her pulse speeding up with each passing second. If she couldn't convince him to stay, so what? Chance was the most virile, attractive, sexy man she'd ever met. Unbelievably good-looking and thoroughly masculine. Was it wrong of her to want to spend a night with him? What red-blooded female wouldn't want that?

The trailer door opened.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart seemed to stop beating because the look in his eyes...

The air gushed from her lungs. Her knees grew weak,
literally
weak. She swooned like a heroine in an old Western movie. “You can't tell my family about this,” he said, his voice rough. “My brother would never approve.”

“No,” she said, her skin tingling and igniting like a live wire because there it was again—a surge that hit her whenever he was near. A singe of heat seemed to sear her to the soul, telling her he would do things to her no man had ever had done before.

“And it'll only be this one time.”

“I know.”

Just quit talking.

“Caro—”

She made the decision for him, going to him, brushing her body up against his, nearly gasping at how good it felt to finally drop the barriers and set the attraction free.

His eyes flared. She waited, hoping he would reciprocate. His head slowly lowered to her own.

Bliss.

The touch of his lips was like trick riding in front of an audience. Addictive. Electrifying. Crazy.

Yes.

The word sang through her brain as she tipped her head sideways and opened her mouth.
Yes
, she thought again, feeling his tongue slip between her lips and caress her own.
Yes
, she sang as he swirled his tongue around her own, stroking her, teasing her, taunting her.

She pressed her hand against his chest. He was so physically fit. It turned her on. Everything about the man aroused her. She wanted to be with him. To touch him. To please him in a way he'd never been pleased before.

“Chance,” she murmured, pressing herself against him, sliding up the length of him.

“Jesus.”

It was all he said, but it was enough. She grew bold, touching him there, feeling his pulse beneath her fingers as his whole body stilled. Everything inside her reveled at the fact she'd done that. She'd made him react.

He pushed her up against the trailer wall. It should have scared her. It should have reminded her of James. But it didn't. It turned her on because she wanted him against her.

“What are you doing to me?” he mumbled.

He lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the center of him against her own core. Her whole body contracted and pulsed in response. He kissed her again, hard, and he was so strong he could have easily used brute force, but he didn't. She loved that about him.

She lifted her hips. He grunted, kissed her harder, and she knew that all he need do was continue holding her like he was and she would lose it. She would shatter into a million pieces. And only his arms would hold her together.

Chance's hand slid up her side toward her breast, and she almost shattered right then because the feel of him cupping her, squeezing her, melding her...

She drew back, gasped, “Bed.”

His eyes were a smoky black. “Yeah,” he said. “Bed.”

* * *

J
UST
ONE
NIGHT
.

The words repeated in Chance's head as he carried Carolina toward the trailer's bedroom.

God, he wouldn't last, not if she kept kissing him like she did. And touching him and moving against him. Almost in self-defense he tossed her onto the bed, but if her body had set him on fire, the look in her eyes nearly drove him to the edge.

Her hands tugged at the edge of her shirt, lifting it, teasing him with a glimpse of her flesh first, then all of it.

He simply stood, watching.

A part of him marveled, took a snapshot of the moment, fixing in his mind how she looked: tousled hair, glittering eyes, pouty mouth. She could have tempted a holy man to give up his vows, and he was no holy man.

Chance didn't want to move. He feared spooking her and inadvertently stopping her sexy striptease. She took the choice away from him, shooting forward, her gaze scanning him, her hand slowly reaching for him. Her palm landed on his chest, and he closed his eyes. Her hand slipped lower, and he knew what she would do. Still, he gasped when she touched him. She tipped her head sideways, pressed up against him, her tongue hot and warm slipping between his lips. Dear Lord. Sweet...so sweet. Like molasses and brown sugar and hot sauce. He couldn't get enough of her.

He slipped a palm beneath her bra. He felt bare flesh and heat, and he suddenly wanted more. He leaned her back against the bed and slid his lips against her bare flesh.

“Chance,” she said softly, his name both a groan and a verbal caress. Her hips lifted upward.

His hands found the waistband of her jeans, and he popped the button, slid the zipper free. He tugged them down, and the sight of her tiny pink underwear shot a fresh spurt of heat through him. They matched her bra, which her breasts spilled out of, nipples still hard.

“You're going to be the death of me,” he groaned.

“What a sweet death,” she answered with a crooked smile.

Something inside him flipped. He pulled her boots and her jeans off in one motion and then simply gazed. She had the body of an athlete and the beauty of a swan. He couldn't wait to taste her. All of her.

His head lowered. She arched upward again. His mouth found her thighs. His hands found her center, and she let out a groan that drove him almost over the edge. He tasted the salty sweetness of her flesh. He held her down because she writhed beneath him. The ache in his groin turned into a burn.

“Chance,” she said, sitting up, her hands finding his. She pulled him up and he couldn't resist.

Their lips found each other's again, but this time her hands were between them. She unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned his pants. She slid his boxers down. He kicked off his boots, and a second later, his jeans and everything else. He was right where he wanted to be. With Caro. He opened his eyes and gazed into twin blue pools. He slid his fingers into the thick depths of hair, testing its weight and its silkiness.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “I've never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Her eyes sparkled like stars. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it down his shoulders. Her heat called to him, filling him with a feeling he didn't know. It made him feel awkward, clumsy and inept. She challenged him to be his best, and he worried he would disappoint. “My turn,” she said, slipping her bra straps down one at a time.

He helped her slide the garment off. She was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen with her hair fanned out beneath her. She never took her eyes off him, and he didn't want her to. It made their act all the more erotic to have her begging him with her eyes.

What are you doing to me?
he silently asked.

Almost as if she heard the question, she lifted a hand and touched the side of his face. His nipples grazed her chest and she gasped. He lowered his head, his lips finding her hardened nubs. Her hips thrust upward and it was almost his undoing, but somehow he held on to control as he nipped and suckled her. She groaned in pleasure.

She pulled him up. He knew what she wanted. He wanted it, too, anticipating their kiss as he'd never anticipated anything before. Her lips were like butterfly wings. He nuzzled them apart, and when they kissed once more, he knew he'd never taste anything so perfect again. He gently nudged her legs apart. She opened for him, welcoming his length. Chance closed his eyes because slipping into her was like coming home.

She wrapped her legs around him. Hard. She moved her hips. Fast. She clutched him to her. Tight.

Lord...

He wouldn't last. She moved beneath him as though she knew his every desire. He lost all sense of time, space and himself. They were joined not just physically, but emotionally, mentally and through a tenuous connection he couldn't quite explain.

“Chance.”

He heard the same need for release he felt, and so he kept the rhythm going faster and faster and faster until her cry echoed his own. He spiraled down a well of pleasure he'd never experienced before.

His breaths matched hers.

That was his first coherent thought, which was amazing given she held him so tightly it was a wonder he could breathe. Slowly, her hold loosened until he was able to shift back and look into her eyes.

She smiled.

He couldn't breathe. It was the smile of an angel, and it called to his heart.

Chance knew nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

C
AROLINA
AWOKE
WITH
sadness clinging to her heart.

For a long moment, she simply lay in his arms, absorbing the heat of his body, listening to the steady drone of his pulse, admiring the taut smoothness of his skin. The sun had just started to rise. It cast a pale glow over them both.

Sad.

She'd known it was only for a night. She'd gone into this with her eyes wide-open. But as he'd held her, as he'd brought her to pleasure over and over again last night, each time had been a little more bittersweet, a little more heartbreaking.

“What are you thinking about?”

His words startled her. She looked up and realized his gaze was upon her. She lifted up on her elbows.

“Long day,” she improvised. “We won't get home until midnight.”

His hands found her shoulders, his thumb brushing her bare skin in a comforting way. “We could always stay another night.”

Everything inside her stilled.

“I could call Colt and tell him the truck won't start. We could hang out here until morning.”

But as quickly as the rush of pleasure warmed her, it faded, leaving coldness in its wake. And then what? Delay the inevitable? She almost said those exact words, but she didn't want him to know how much his suggestion tempted her. She'd made it clear last night that she understood their being together was a onetime thing. He needed to know she meant it.

“Nah,” she said as dismissively as possible. “We should probably get back.”

He would never know how hard it was for her to pull away from him, to get dressed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, to slip on her clothes. Or how difficult she found it not to race back and kiss him once she was done. But she knew this man. She knew if she pushed him and gushed over him, he would run. She didn't know how she knew that. She just did. So Carolina kept her cool as she headed out the front door, pausing and giving him what she hoped was an impersonal wave goodbye.

He never saw her collapse against the door. Never saw her close her eyes, nor the way her lips silently formed the word
damn
.