B00DVWSNZ8 EBOK (16 page)

She ignored him and clutched his taut buttocks, breathed in his musky scent, pressed kisses against the crisp nest surrounding his erection. His jutting penis twitched as her cheek touched it, and she moved her mouth along the hot, velvety flesh until she reached the plump tip. She molded her mouth over it,
hummed with satisfaction at the soft grunt that came from him. She licked away salty moisture, slid her mouth the length of him, until she could feel the thick tip of him against the back of her throat, then she drew back slowly and circled the rim with her tongue.

"Oh, Jesus," he ground out, grasping her shoulders and pushing himself away from her. "
Jude, I'll come."

He pulled her up and jerked back the covers on the bed.
"Get in," he said roughly, and she crawled between the sheets. In an instant he was hovering over her, bracketing her with his arms and kneeing her thighs apart. He looked down at her with fiery eyes and a hard mouth. "Where'd you learn that?" he said roughly, and kissed her fiercely.

His mouth moved over her breasts, her torso, down her body. His tongue sank into her navel. She shuddered and arched her back, lifted her belly to him. He nipped at her flesh, pressed hot suckling kisses to the hollows beneath her hip bones, cruised to where her thighs joined her trunk, and all the while his whispery words, thick and
broken, played with her mind....“climb up inside you...never come out.. come 'til you scream...”

All of that was what she thought she wanted.
Now her heart was hammering. No man had ever spoken such words to her.

He clasped her knees with his palms and pushed her thighs wide, ducked his head and nuzzled her pubic hair, inhaled deeply.
Panic and embarrassment suffused her in equal measure. She pushed against his head. "Brady, don't..."

"Don't what?" His mouth moved over the insides of her thighs.

"Brady, I've never..." She felt his breath warm against her most intimate place. "No one's ever..."

"Close your eyes and relax," he said huskily. Then his mouth was there, where no man's mouth had ever been, and she was shaking all over and floating in a haze of anticipation.

She forced herself up, braced on her elbows, fisted her hand in his hair, intending to stop him, but the sight of his head between her legs aroused her in a way she had never been before. When his tongue swept the length of her cleft, all she could do was whimper, fall back on the mattress and let her knees fall wider.

H
is hands slid under her bottom and he lifted her to his mouth. His tongue slipped into the top of her sex and exquisite pleasure shot through her. With a gasp she braced on one hand and gripped a fistful of his hair, watched his head move as he licked into her again and again. Rational thought left her mind. The flex inside her turned to driving need. Nothing mattered but his agile tongue's point of contact. Her breath turned to quick pants, out of her control. “Oh... oh...oh...”

He stopped abruptly, leaving her bereft and desperate.
Something was happening."Don't stop," she cried. “Please don't stop." His wet mouth moved up her body and took her mouth again in a savage kiss. Her hips hitched against him. "Please don't stop," she begged again. She sucked on his tongue, licked her own taste from his lips.

He pulled away from her.

"Just a minute, sweetheart." He grabbed a condom off the bedside table, tore it open and quickly rolled it on with trembling hands.

Then he was back, between her thighs, his body hovering above hers, and the wide tip of him was there, nudging into where she felt so hot and empty. "I want to be inside you when you come," he
said raggedly.

"Hurry," she said, lifting herself, her thighs shamelessly open. She ran her hands over his muscled back, clutched at his firm buttocks
. He pushed into her in one stroke. Instantly, her world fell apart. The sweetest agony began washed through her. Her hungry flesh pulled against his hardness. Her hips lifted to him and she gave a tiny sob. His mouth locked onto hers as tars passed behind her eyes as spasms of pleasure gripped her.

Even before it was over, he began to move inside her in a steady rhythm.
He felt so big so hot, but she kept up, wanting more. She had never felt like this. That exquisite climb began again.

He held himself still. She opened her eyes and saw his face, his expression strained and harsh.
"Put your legs around me, sweetheart."

She
instantly did as he said, taking him until it felt as if he were buried all the way to her heart. "Oh. Oh, Brady..."

"Okay?"

"Yes." She lifted her head, smiled and kissed him. “It’s perfect.”

He smiled, too.
"Stay with me now," he muttered gruffly.

He began to rock in a slow, ceaseless rhythm.
Then, faster. Melting friction. Deep thrusts. Delightful torment. She lost track of time and thought. Those needy deep muscles grabbed at his penis again and again and he groaned his pleasure.

Somehow, through the haze that had taken her over, she felt him strain, heard him grunt. Instinctively, she dug her fingers into his buttocks and anchored him to her. He pounded hard up into her, once, twice, until a bark burst from his chest and he collapsed on top of her.

He was shaking and sweating, and she could feel his heart pounding. She was no better off herself. When she found the strength to speak, she whispered, "Oh, my gosh. Are we okay?"

He heaved a great breath and chuckled against her neck. "I don't know yet."

They clung to each other. “Oh, my gosh, Brady,” she said in a tiny voice. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

“
Yeah,” he said softly. “It’s supposed to be exactly like that.”

H
e started kissing her face and neck and murmuring words of sweetness to her. He stayed inside her for a long time. She didn't move, not wanting him to leave her. Finally, he shifted to her side, but his heavy arm remained draped across her body.

As soon as he recovered,
Brady left her and padded to the bathroom. He was shaken in an unexpected way. As he disposed of the rubber and washed himself in the vanity sink, he thought about the conflicting mix that was Jude Strayhorn. She was as close to being a virgin as he ever expected to know. She might have had sex before, but she was naïve. Yet, at the same time, smart, hot as a pistol and sexy. She was beautiful and rich, but down-to-earth and funny and fun. Every man's dream. And she didn't even know it.

He had sensed that primitive passion in her when she confronted him in his aunt's driveway and tonight he had let it lure him past reason. When she had shown him she had a hunger that matched his, the loss of control had begun to creep in. Then when Ace had blatantly shown an interest in her, even put his hand on her, Brady had lost his damn mind. He had wanted to clock Ace Earl, a man he had known for thirty years
and considered a friend, just for touching her.

C
ould he bear to let her go?

He studied his reflection in the vanity mirror. Those were dangerous sentiments for a man who had nothing to offer.

He returned to the bedroom, crawled under the covers and gathered her in his arms and scissored his legs with hers. "You're something else," he told her.

Her body was smooth and soft and lush, all that he loved about women. She snuggled close to him and fit her head against his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
He idly stroking the back of it with his fingertips.

“
Can I ask you something?” she asked softly.

He
smiled. “Something told me you’d have about a million questions.”

“
I’m just trying to learn things I don’t know. Suzanne’s always telling me how sex is supposed to be. But she didn’t describe it very well. You can’t really describe it, can you?”

“I don’t think I ever tried.”

“I can’t keep from thinking about how wild and crazy the stallions get. Now I know why. Sex is really an animal-like thing, isn’t it? People aren’t really that much different from animals, are they?”

He had no idea where she was going with this conversation. He chuckled.
“In some ways, I guess not.

“
Do you think they…well, do they, you know, do you think the same thing happens to the cows and the mares that happens to women? I know they function out of instinct, but do you think they
like
sex?”

“You’re the breeding specialist. You’d know more about that than I do. All I know, is they must not mind it. Most of them
don’t put up a fight.”

“Wow,” she whispered and hugged him tighter.

He scooted down and turned on his side to face her, belly to belly, burrowed his hands in her thick hair and held her head for a kiss. Then he drew back and smiled. “Does that brain of yours ever stop churning?”

“Does it bother you for me to ask questions?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve been asking me questions for two days. I gave up letting it bother me.”

She looked at him and searched his face
with eyes layered with shadows. "You’re wonderful," she said and he almost stopped breathing. "You make me have feelings I’ve never had," she said, and his heart nearly stopped.

"
That goes both ways, Jude. You scare me a little, but you make me think about things in a new way."

They talked. She told him how deeply she had been hurt by learning her first fiancé had used her. Brady barely contained his anger. As an eighteen-year-old college freshman who had always lived in a bubble of parental protection
in a tiny town her family practically owned, she would have been a lamb on her way to slaughter. Luckily, she had been smart enough to figure out what was happening before it was too late.

She told him how when her father
engineered her second engagement, she had just gone along to get along. J.D. had been so angry at her over her breaking off with her first fiancé, she wanted to please him by cooperating on the second. But she hadn’t been able to carry on the charade for long. “I’m not sure about Jason, but I wonder if he’s gay,” she said. “But don’t ever say that to anyone. I’ve never even told Suzanne.”

“I have no reason to
repeat it,” Brady said.

“Anyway, after Jason, I just
devoted myself to school. By then Daddy and Grandpa both were mad at me. Daddy and I could scarcely have a conversation without getting into an argument. I didn’t really make up with either one of them until I moved back to the ranch.

Brady had no reference point from which to relate to her over-protected life.

“If you hadn't inherited your aunt's ranch," she asked from out of the blue, "would you have stayed in Stephenville?"

"
I’d have gone back to Fort Worth and started over eventually. I was getting tired of living in isolation. Even before Aunt Margie passed away, I’d started planning  a new subdivision in a small town west of Fort Worth, where my mom lives. I already had my eye on some land and was putting some things in place."

"What if you can't make the
6-0 work? Will you leave Lockett?"

"I'll have to."

"Oh, no," she said.

He was ridiculously pleased
by the dismay in her voice. "Would you care if I left?"

"Yes," she said. "I
sincerely would."

Chapter 13

Jude awoke, her mouth feeling like cotton and her stomach rumbling, but she didn't open her eyes. Though everything in the kitchen had been packed, she knew a plastic jug of milk still sat inside the refrigerator. The idea of cold soothing liquid sliding down her throat was enticing.

The only sound was the low roar of the air conditioner. The room was cold, but beneath the sheet, Brady's skin was toasty warm. She fel
t his even breathing on her neck, his steady heartbeat and crisp chest hair against her back. She thought of waking him but decided against it. They had made love half the night. The last time, they had emerged from a deep slumber, more asleep than awake, and found each other in the dark.

Through the gauzy layers of her still half-asleep brain, the conversation she'd had with Suzanne echoed
: .
...You've never had it when it was really, really good. If you ever did... you couldn't leave it alone.... When you find a guy who does it all, you'll be so hungry for it, you'll beg him….

She felt silly and girlish. No wonder Suzanne constantly railed at her about being naive. Naive was what she was.
After last night, would she now be someone who couldn't leave it alone? Would she now find herself chasing after men, as Suzanne sometimes did, just for sex? She shrank from the thought, but at the same time, after what she and Brady had done in this bed, how could her attitude toward men,
any
men, ever be the same?

Brady. She felt a tiny smile tug at her lips. Sweet, strong and gentle Brady. She had never known such intimacy with another human being. Compared to him, the two men her family would have seen her marry were pathetic.

Finally, she opened her eyes and saw the chilly bedroom bright with sunshine filtering through the Venetian blinds.
Uh-oh.
The clock was packed and she didn't wear a wristwatch, but from the look of the golden light surrounding them, it had to be at least seven. And they had a five-or six-hour slow drive ahead of them, hauling horses. So much for Brady's plan to get back to Lockett by noon.

His arm lay like a weight across her body. She carefully moved it from around her midsection and untangled her legs from his. He stirred but didn't awaken. She sat up and yawned, waiting for her wits to organize. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes.
Too much tequila last night. Her nose felt stuffy, which always happened when she slept in a room with air-conditioning. She was used to open windows and fresh air from outside.

Spying last night's jeans and top in two separate spots, she started to stand up but almost fell back to the mattress. Before last night, she'd had sore muscles from helping him with the barn boards. This morning she had tenderness in new places
for a vastly different reason.

She picked up her clothing and padded to the living room where she had left her duffel, scolding herself for having four margaritas last night. Even in college, she
had limited herself to two in an evening.

In the bathroom, she washed as best she could with the corner of one of the two towels that hadn't been packed. Then she brushed her teeth and washed yesterday's makeup off with her hands.

Sensitive whisker burns reddened her mouth and chin, even her breasts and stomach.
Good grief.
Would Daddy notice those on her face? And if he did, would he know what they were? She dug into her makeup bag and found cream.

Unfortunately, she had brought only one change of clothing and she had worn it last night. The black lace panties smelled musky, reminding her of how wet she had been before Brady stripped her clothes off. She dug in her duffel and found the panties she had worn yesterday. The old jeans she had worn yesterday were filthy, so she put on last night's jeans, enduring the stiffened inseam that chafed her sore places. Finally, she brushed her hair until it crackled with electricity, then plaited it into a single braid. She left the bathroom and tiptoed past the bed.

With no glasses left in the kitchen cabinets, She pulled the milk jug out of the refrigerator and drank directly from it, the cold, smooth liquid easing the gnawing feeling inside her stomach. She had never been a big milk drinker, but if she spent much time around Brady, she might become one.

Spending time with Brady. The idea brought to the forefront of her mind a conundrum she didn't know how to tackle. A courtship—and he hadn't said he wanted that—would be impossible to maintain back in Lockett unless he quit his job at the Circle C. And if he did that, how would he hang on to the 6-0? In Willard County, made up of ninety-nine percent family farms and ranches, few real jobs existed.

Even with working at the Circle C, rebuilding his aunt's old place might be impossible. Then there was Grandpa's intention to acquire the 6-0. Exactly how he planned to do that had yet to manifest itself, but she knew her grandfather. He would get it done eventually. As much as she loved him, a secret part of her believed he was his shifty father's son.

She returned the milk to the refrigerator, then, careful to be quiet, opened the front door and went outside into the morning sun.
Today's weather appeared to be a duplicate of yesterday's—sunny and pleasant now, until the temperature climbed into the nineties in the afternoon. She placed her palms at the small of her back and stretched, then sank to the porch's top step. The sun hadn't had time to warm the porch's wrought-iron mesh and one layer of denim didn't protect her bottom from the metal’s cold.

But that discomfort was nothing compared to the frustration now building within her. She had so much to think about
—a new sensual part of herself that had emerged, coaxed to the surface by a man who, from her dad and grandpa’s perspective, couldn’t be more off limits.

She had never known sex—no, lovemaking was what it had been—as it had been with Brady. She had always
believed something was missing between her and Webb and, later, between her and Jason. Now she knew what. In Brady's arms, she had been his total focus. He had made her feel as if she were a goddess and his only mission was to please her.

She had never been the total focus of either of the two men whose engagement rings she had worn. Strayhorn wealth and influence had always been an elephant in the room. Strange. She hardly knew Brady Fallon, but other than providing him with a job, her family's money seemed to mean nothing to him.

She saw no upside to this situation. She and Brady had polar goals and different battles to wage—starting with her family and the lifetime caveat Daddy and Grandpa had hammered into her. She had heard it a thousand times as a little girl:
Stay away from the bunkhouse, Jude….Don't distract the hands from their work, Jude….

After
she became a teenager, the mantra had changed:
Don't forget who you are, Jude.... Don't get involved with one of the hands, Jude....

She hadn't heard those admoni
tions in recent years, but no matter. They were imprinted on her brain as permanently as a brand. And just because they were no longer spoken didn't mean she could ignore them. She might be a grown woman, but no way would it ever be acceptable to either Daddy or Grandpa, or even to herself, for her to have slept with a ranch employee.

She had done something so irresponsible, so against the rules, so unacceptable, it had to be kept a secret. If Daddy and Grandpa ever learned about it,
as sure as the sun rose and set, they would fire Brady. Nothing was as unpleasant as the cold, hard truth. Guilt over the deceit she had contrived and made Brady a part of sat heavily on her shoulders.

Then there were the lies she had already told her father, heightened by her father's expectation of a report on the Boren watercolor from the museum in Fort Worth. A sigh escaped. She had mere hours and a little over three hundred miles to make up another believable lie.
Damn
. Lying was hard.

As if all of that weren't enough, insecurity fueled a deep-seated anguish. For the first time in her life, she'd had a one-night stand. She now knew how it felt to wake up beside a man she hardly knew. She might have touched every naked body part, but that didn't mean she knew him. Anxiety wormed into her stomach. How would he feel about her this morning after she had thrown herself at him? A
nd after all they had done last night?

She thought of her cousin, Jake, and his ability to see through everyone and every circumstance. His respect meant more to her than anyone's. What would he think of her if he knew she had practically forced herself on one of his good friends? Would Brady tell him?

Dear God, what kind of a mess had she made? At the sheer awfulness of it, she propped her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. Suddenly she couldn't wait to get back home, back to the safety of the Circle C. Leaving the ranch house's rock walls was dangerous.

The sound of a vehicle caught her attention
. She looked toward the county road. In the distance, a pickup turned onto the driveway and sped up the hill toward the mobile, dust spewing behind it. "Oh, damn," she mumbled under her breath.

The pickup, a newer-model Ford, came to a stop, and a burly man, belly bulging over his belt,
stepped out and stamped up to the porch in quick little steps. He eyed her in a peculiar way and planted his hammy hands at his waist. "Jack Durham's my name,” he said gruffly. “You a friend of Brady's?"

Y
ikes! Brady's boss? Or, that is, his old boss?
"Uh…yes."

The man looked around. "Where's he at?"

She hesitated. "Uh... sleeping."

His eyelids narrowed. "What'd you say your name is?"

Her stomach dropped. It wasn’t impossible that Daddy, Grandpa and Jack Durham were acquainted. "Uh, Judy. Judy Strong."

"You look familiar. You live around here?"

"Abilene. I'm from Abilene."

His assessing eyes pored over her. "Don't hardly ever get to Abilene.
But you shore do look familiar."

"I must have one of those faces that looks like everyone else's."

"Huh," he said, continuing to examine her until she began to feel uncomfortable. Now she was certain this man must have seen her before.

"I need to talk to Brady," he said. "Reckon we could wake 'im up?"

She got to her feet, eager to escape. "Sure. I'll get him."

Just then, Brady came out of the mobile buttoning the shirt he had worn to supper last night. He must have heard them talking.

"Hey, Jack, what's up?"

"Thought I'd save you
the trouble of bringing the keys by my house. I figured you'd be close to clearin' out by now."

"Almost. Just have to load up a few more things."

"Well, go ahead and gimme the keys. I got a Meskin gonna move in here and look after the stock in this pasture. I told 'im he could bring his stuff on over around noon."

"I'll get 'em." Brady walked back into the mobile.

"By George, I got it."

Jude whipped around toward the voice. To her horror, Mr. Durham's sausage
-like finger was pointing at her. "It was Amarillo at the horse sale. You was sittin' with Strayhorn's horse wrangler, Clary Harper. He's a good friend of mine. Knowed 'im for years. Clary bought that big palomino mare that day."

Jude knew the horse. She thought panic might explode her skeleton, but before that happened, Brady returned to the porch with a ring of keys. When he handed them over to his former boss, the man said, "Damn, Brady, it pains me to see you go. You done a good job for me here. It's hard to find a man you can trust out here all by hisself."

Brady looked as if he wanted to jump off the porch and run. Jude was beginning to learn that he did not deal well with compliments. He ducked his chin and scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. "Thanks, Jack."

"But I wish you the best. I hope you get that
ol’ place a-goin'. It was a fine thing your aunt done leavin' it to you."

After more conversation,
Brady and Jack Durham said their good-byes and Brady assured him he would be gone within an hour or two at the most.

As soon as the rancher left, Brady turned to her, the corners of his beautiful mouth tipped up into a wide, white smile. "Morning." He came to her, hooked an arm around her neck, drew her close and placed a smooch on her lips. "You sore?" he asked softly. He picked up the end of her braid and tickled the tip of her nose with it.

He was obviously unconcerned about Jack Durham seeing her here, but Jude's heart was beating like a snare drum. "A little. That last time—"

"Was awesome," he finished, and smooched her lips again. "I woke up hard as a fence rail. If Jack hadn't
been out here, I was planning on dragging you back into that bed."

She was too distressed to think about what he said. "Brady, he knows who I am. At least almost. He's seen me before."

Brady's gaze swung to the departing pickup. "How do you know?"

"He said so. He saw me at the horse sale in Amarillo a few months ago. I was there with Daddy and Clary Harper."

"Who's Clary Harper?"

"The ranch's horse wrangler. He takes care of the remuda. If Mr. Durham puts two and two together..."