Undeniable (15 page)

Except… things between them had changed. Sure, their hooking up had started out all naked and nasty, but since then, she’d offered him a place to sleep, she’d brought him supper, she’d agreed to this date—a date he’d wanted, a date he’d insisted on. And he’d done what exactly?

Nothing, except bang her for all he was worth.

Hmm. So maybe things for her hadn’t changed at all. Maybe this was part of her having her shit together. She was all independent and thoughtful and generous and caring, but when it came down to the nitty-gritty, she didn’t need anything from him but sex.

That should make him happy, right? What guy wouldn’t want to be Arwen Poole’s fuck buddy? Uh, yeah. Didn’t make any sense that he was questioning things, and he didn’t like that he was, but here he stood, doing just that instead of getting on with ringing her bell.

Before he could question anything else, the door opened. His head came up from where he’d been staring at the porch boards, and now the only question was why he’d stood there so long without knocking.

She wore her usual jeans, but her top was some sleeveless, thigh-length gauzy number, and her hair was a wild mass of loose curls around her shoulders. He breathed her in and his stomach growled, and seeing her bare feet on her hardwood floor, her toenails painted the same pink as her bedroom, completely did him in.

She stood with one arm raised as she held on to the door. “Do you realize you’re on my front porch, in plain view of anyone who might pass by?”

“I do,” he said, leaving it at that rather than admitting he’d considered using her back door.

“You’re not even hiding behind your hat.”

He pulled it off completely to show he had it in him.

“I think we’re making progress here, though we could make it a lot faster if you’d come inside.” She pulled her dark fall of hair back from her face, her lashes drifting down then up again in a slow, lazy sweep.

He would’ve gone inside anyway, but his cock insisted he do it now, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. The sway of her unbound tits completely sucked away what was left of his brain. One step over the threshold, he wrapped an arm around her waist, brought her to his body, and covered her mouth with his.

He’d been waiting to kiss her properly since the other evening when he’d told her good-bye at her truck. He did so now, kicking the door closed and sliding his tongue into her mouth as he cupped her ass and squeezed. She moaned, rubbed against him like a cat, her nipples over his chest, her pussy against his thigh.

Two layers of denim, and he felt her dampness, her heat, and he dug his fingers deeper between the cheeks of her backside, then forced her across the room and down onto the couch. He covered her, held her hands above her head and humped her, grinding and sliding until he couldn’t breathe and he feared his cock would snap off at the root.

Planting his palms on the cushion on either side of her head, he raised up, stared down. “If you’re trying to kill me, be warned. My assets aren’t worth shit.”

Giggling, Arwen rolled out from beneath him, and he pushed to sit, collapsing back to relieve the pressure on his cock. But in the next instant, she was straddling his lap, leaning forward, her mouth on his neck beneath his ear.

She kissed and she licked and she bit him, and her hands were everywhere, her fingers busy little teasing things driving him mad. It took all he had in him to take her by the waist and set her away.

They’d made an agreement. He had to stick to it or she would win and he would lose what manhood he had left—if any. “Here’s how this works. Date, then sex.”

She pouted, dragging a middle finger up and down his throat, her nipples tight and tempting beneath the fabric of her shirt. “That makes it sound like the sex is an afterthought. A maybe. A possible outcome to the night.”

“No, it’s just to make sure the date happens because knowing you, you’ve been going crazy thinking about having me and forgot to get my popcorn.”

“That’s not true,” she said, flouncing down to the cushion beside him. “It’s microwaved, but it’s hot and fresh. And buttered.”

“Good to hear,” he said, sniffing the air. Yep. Popcorn. “So what are we watching?”

“A western.”

“My favorite. Clint Eastwood? John Wayne? Gary Cooper?”

“Nope. This one’s the story of a six-shooting spaceman, a cosmic hooker, a pilot savant, a girl in a box, and a man named Jayne.”

He arched a brow. Was she kidding? “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Trust me. You’ll love it,” she said, jumping up and heading for the kitchen and, he hoped, his popcorn.

“Maybe the hooker part,” he called after her.

She was back in a flash and giving him a look. “Are you always such a man?”

“I thought that’s why I was here. Because I walk tall and carry a big dick.”

This time she rolled her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”

“You’ve seen it,” he said, draping his arm along the back of the couch. “You know the truth.”

“What I know is that you need to shut up and watch your
movie.” She dropped down beside him, set the popcorn between his legs. “Date night, remember?”

He remembered, and as the movie played his mind drifted, wandering back to high school as if that’s where he’d find answers to whatever the hell was wrong with him. Because something had to be wrong. He’d said no to a woman who’d climbed into his lap and asked him with her body to fuck her. A gorgeous woman. A woman who had managed to kill his desire for any other.

In the future, sure, he’d get back to his randy Dalton Gang ways, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he didn’t see it. He wanted Arwen. And it kinda made him feel all settled and shit to be thinking of sticking with her, especially when he’d intended to pick up where he’d left off sixteen years ago, sampling all the female wares Crow Hill had to offer.

He lowered his gaze from the TV screen to where she sat curled against him, her knees drawn up to rest on his thigh, her feet bare, her head in the crook of his shoulder. He toyed with a strand of her hair, watched a smile play over her face, followed the movement of her hand as she absently rubbed along his inseam before reaching into the bag of popcorn. His gut tightened, and not even from the physical contact.

He was comfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been, the last time he’d felt like he belonged. Maybe as a kid growing up in the mansion on the hill, but that hadn’t lasted long. As soon as he’d figured out he was expected to go to law school, he’d begun to feel like a stranger in his own house, hell, in his own skin.

Even on the ranch he felt like he was just passing through. He hated that. For himself. For Boone and Casper. He wanted to call the place home. It had been more of one than his own during high school, but a lot of that had been the people who’d lived there making it so.

All these years and miles later, the Daltons’ influence remained, along with Tess’s aprons and Dave’s spittoons, and though it felt like a violation to be boxing up their things, he appreciated Darcy taking on the chore. And, yeah, he could make a home there with Casper and Boone. There was a reason they’d stayed fast friends and become such in the first place.

But something was missing. And he was pretty sure that something was sitting next to him on a sofa long enough and wide enough for what he had in mind without having to waste time getting to her bed. He pictured her moving the popcorn, turning her gaze to his, her eyes soft like a foal’s, her lips damp as they parted.

Background music would play as he held her gently and lowered himself over her, kissing her, smoothing her hair from her face. They’d breathe together, he’d slide a hand beneath her shirt, cup her breast, tease her, wait until she was ready before lifting the fabric, licking at her nipple, sucking her until she begged…

Except as soon as the movie was over, she sat forward, arched her back, and stretched her arms overhead. Then she shifted on one hip to face him and bumped his knee. “You got your date. Now I want my sex.”

And just like that the sensation of all being right with his world got doused with a bucket of cold water. He looked at her, watched her pulse beat in the hollow of her throat, watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Watched her irises disappear as her pupils dilated.

Aw, hell. Who was he kidding? Watched the rest of his life fall into place.

And that had his heart racing because getting there from here was not going to come easy. Not when Arwen had set the terms of their involvement and he’d been stupid enough to agree. Fine.
She wanted sex? He’d give her sex. He’d also make sure she knew there was more to sex than his cock and her pussy and her finger in his ass.

He leaned forward, set the popcorn bag on the coffee table, and reached for the snaps of his shirt. “How do you want it?” He popped the buttons, shrugged out of the shirt, moved to his belt buckle. “Where do you want it?” He freed his fly’s top button then bent to tug off his boots. “And why aren’t you getting undressed?”

“Could you possibly make sex sound any less sexy?” she asked, scooting away from him to the end of the couch.

Good,
he mused as she pulled her knees to her chest and tugged her shirt down over them. They were getting somewhere. “You said you wanted sex. I just want to make sure I’m giving you what you want.”

“You’re giving me a porn movie. From a male point of view.”

“So the sex is part of the date? Like peach cobbler after baby back ribs?”

“Yes. Why would you think any differently?”

“Let’s see. What exactly was it you said? That I got
my
date, and you wanted
your
sex? Not that you wanted
us
to have sex, or hell, that you might want
me
?”

“Well, of course I want you. You’re here, aren’t you?” And then she cocked her head to the side, considering him, the smile sliding over her face crafty and sly. “Did I hurt your feelings? Did you want me to seduce you?”

“Does it matter what I want?”
And what the hell?
He sounded like some pansy-assed teen. A teen girl at that. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

She laughed then, tossed back her head and laughed. “I did, didn’t I? I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to. I just—”

“You just want sex. I got it.” He stood, shucked off his jeans, left his briefs in place because he wasn’t up to exposing more of himself.

“Oh, Dax. I am sorry. We agreed you’d get your date and I’d get my sex, and I never thought you might want more. Especially when you told me the other evening that you didn’t. You remember telling me that, don’t you?”

“I remember. And I don’t want more,” he said, dropping back to the couch and doubting there’d be any sex had here tonight.

She rolled up to her hands and knees, crawled toward him. “Good, because I can’t have you here if you do.”

Huh. That was interesting, and something new. But even when she worked her way into his lap and started working on him, he stared at the television and stayed quiet, ignoring her weight, her sweet scent. Ignoring the twitch in his balls, the rise of his cock.

His not wanting more and her not wanting more should’ve made for a perfect connection. The only thing he could think that might be hosing him up was Arwen running the show. And really, he’d have to be a bigger dick now than he’d been in high school to let that get in the way of the sex she delivered, as abundant and welcome as rain.

She pushed the heels of her palms together beneath his ribs and leaned in, her tits flat to his chest, the metal loops in the centers like tiny brands, burning him. Her mouth at his jaw trailed kisses as she made her way to his ear.

She breathed there, softly, in and out, then said, “You know that I want you here, don’t you? I really, really do.”

He grunted. He really, really didn’t want to be anyplace else, and he moved his hands to her hips, then wriggled his fingers beneath her shirt to her skin, skating his palms up her sides until the weight of her breasts rested on his thumbs. Then he turned his
head into hers and kissed her, his fingers gouging the flesh covering her ribs.

She slid her tongue against his, her hands down his belly and beneath the elastic straining to hold his briefs flat. Then she backed her way off his lap to the floor, kneeling between his thighs and urging him to lift his hips. He did, and she got rid of his shorts, leaving him with his socks and a good ten inches of greedy anticipation.

Licking her lips, she took him in her hand, then took him in her mouth, then took him to the back of her throat. He curled his fingers into the fabric of the couch and clenched every muscle he had, his neck straining as he dropped his head against the cushion and closed his eyes.

Fuck. She was good. So goddamn good. She knew when to use her tongue, how to use her teeth, where to use her fingers and her way-too-inquisitive thumb.

His balls were aching when she ringed them and tugged them down, and his cock jumped, the tip brushing the top of her mouth. She pulled her lips along his shaft, holding the head by its thick ridge, lapping at the bead of fluid warning her. Warning him that if he stayed where he was, she wouldn’t be getting the sex she wanted for at least a little while.

He looked down, met her wicked gaze, started to say
To hell with it
but knew he wasn’t that guy. So he threaded his fingers into her hair, pulled his cock from her mouth, and told her, “My turn,” as he urged her to her feet. Scooting to the edge of the cushion, he tapped the back of her knees to bring her closer, and went to work on her jeans.

The button slipped free easily, and the zipper didn’t give him a bit of trouble, and he opened the denim to find her sweet skin and a strip of pink lace above the cotton that covered the part of her
he’d come to see. He leaned forward, pulled at the elastic with his teeth, let it snap back against her skin, and inhaled.

Holding her shirt to her waist, she squirmed, shivered, and he tugged her jeans down her thighs, leaving her panties in place because he loved how she looked, smooth and soft and not the least bit naughty when she was the naughtiest girl he’d ever known.