Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 (12 page)

“Right. I can do that.” First he plied her with a bottle of juice from the mini-fridge and a packet of trail mix. When she’d dutifully swallowed everything, he disappeared into the bathroom, and the water switched on.

She dropped the blanket she’d held clutched under her chin. Where had her clothes gone? And that cowboy hat she’d worn in the rain? She wanted it as a souvenir.

Damian came out of the bathroom, a strange look on his face. “The shower’s ready. If you need me, I’ll be right here. Just holler.” He scraped his fingers through his mussed hair.

As she moved into the bathroom, she threw him a look over one shoulder. “I’ll holler ‘strawberries’.”

A strangled noise left him. She closed herself inside the bathroom. That’s when she caught her reflection. A smear of red rode over her hip and outer thigh. What had he really written there?

Half-turning, she looked at her left buttock. A big red X was scrawled there, written by the man she wanted above anyone else.

The walls closed in on her. Everything pressed close—the ranch, the bungalow, her cowboy. The way he’d fed her off his fork and cradled her on his lap. That red X on her ass marked her as his.

Tears erupted from her eyes. With her face in her hands, she leaned against the shower door and slid to the floor. When she’d come here, she’d expected a fun romp, some freedom from her past.

She’d never expected that she’d feel as though she belonged here. Never expected to fall for her Boot Knocker.

“Hey Damian, Hugh wants to see you in his office in five.”

Damian sat on his bunk, which hadn’t been slept in at all this week, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked up to see Ty in the doorway. “What for?”

“How should I know? Just don’t be late. He seems like he’s in a shitty mood.”

“’K, thanks.” Damian rubbed his hands over his face.
Great.
If Hugh was in a foul mood and calling Damian in, it was probably about Ruthie blacking out.

He stood and dropped the towel swaddling his hips. Glancing down, he looked for the lipstick smear on his groin. When he’d marked Ruthie he’d never thought about how she would mark him right back with every thrust he made.

Balls tightening, he fought his bone-deep desire. Fuck, what was he going to do? He’d crossed so many lines with her, the whole situation was a blur of emotion.

As quickly as possible he dressed in jeans, boots and a Boot Knocker T-shirt, hoping it won him some brownie points with the boss. Then he took off across the field at a dead run for the office. When Hugh said five minutes, he didn’t mean five and a half.

Slightly out of breath, he burst through the door. Holly glanced up from her work, and Damian gave her a nod. Trying not to remember that the last time he’d spoken to Holly, he’d brought Ruthie to get dolled up.
My sex kitty.

He stomped on that thought.

“He’s waiting for you.” She jerked her head toward Hugh’s office.

Damian crossed the space and entered the office. Hugh’s space boasted the most windows, and watery sunlight trickled over his desk. Without looking up, he said, “Sit.”

Damian’s stomach clenched. After all the times in his life he’d been in trouble—with teachers, principals, cops and the judge after being found guilty of grand theft auto—he still got that crawling sensation.

I was a punk kid then. I’m not now.
He looked Hugh in the eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Damian scuffed his hand over his jaw. “I know I shouldn’t have tied her under those lights. Believe me, I know. I’ve been thrashing myself for it all night long. Every time she made a noise in her sleep, I was hovering over her, looking for something to be wrong.”

Hugh’s jaw fell open. “Wait. You think I called you in here about Ruth?”

“Ruthie,” he said automatically. “Yeah. Hell, that isn’t why?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

Hugh sat back, his face tense.

“You lose your head pretty easily with Miss Johansson.” Hugh’s stare leveled on Damian.

“I guess you could say that.”

“I saw you with her in the grub house. It’s evident to all of us on this ranch how possessive you are of her. What the hell are you going to do about it?”

Damian’s heart flatlined. “Nothing,” he said, voice as dead as he suddenly felt inside. He couldn’t have her. She wasn’t his to claim. She was a guest, and he was taking care of her for only a couple more days. Then she’d be back in small-town USA with a history teacher named Andrew.

He clenched his fists.

“Damian. This is a business. We cater to women and treat them right for a week so they can feel good about themselves when they return to their old lives. There isn’t room for slip-ups.”

“I know.”

Hugh sat back and propped his boot on his opposite knee. He’d removed his hat for this meeting, and somehow it made him look more approachable. Maybe Damian could confide that in the middle of the night when he woke up to Ruthie’s beautiful face, he couldn’t go back to sleep.

No, he could never admit that. Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted it to himself.

“Do you need me to remove you from her bungalow?”

“No!” His heart raced at the thought of her in someone else’s bed.

“Okay, then I’ll let you take care of this.”

Damian’s fingers tingled with relief. He itched to put them on Ruthie, to feel her writhe under his touch.

Hugh’s face lost a little of its hard edge. “What I really called you in here for was to make use of your photography skills.”

His mind blanked. “Oh?”

“I thought what you do might be a good thing to offer as a package. Private photo shoots for the women. They could have a choice of three packages—makeover photos, boudoir photos or nudes.”

“Nudes?” He’d seen hundreds of women in the flesh but could only envision Ruthie in front of the camera.

“Yeah, if that’s their choice. If you’re willing, I’d like you to put together a proposal for me. Include sizes, poses, prices. Make sure to account for equipment fees and processing fees.”

Damian’s chest burned. If they were talking about him writing a proposal, he might as well fly to the moon without a rocket. Yet he couldn’t exactly turn Hugh down either. Not only was it a lucrative add-on for the Boot Knockers, it would be great experience for Damian.

He nodded and stood. “I’ll do that.”
How, I don’t know.
“Is that all?”

Hugh sighed, staring at him for a long minute. “Yeah, that’s all.”

“Thanks, boss.” He reached the door before Hugh called out.

“Damian. Be careful.”

He couldn’t help but think Hugh meant more.

He needed to get to Ruthie.

Lengthening his strides, he crossed the bright green turf toward Bungalow 11. Against the sky, the red roof was a beacon. The woman inside, though, had a bigger hold on him.

Damn fool. Losing my head over her.

But she was fucking perfect. Sweet, funny, smart and a temptress. When he’d written his name on her ass—the X—his brain had fused with the idea of having her. Forever.

He mounted the steps in one big leap. Inside, all was quiet. He closed the door with a soft click and approached the bedroom. Ruthie was lying on her stomach, fast asleep. Damian’s heart turned over.

Her hair tumbled across her bare shoulder, still damp from washing. Her lashes were impossibly long and dark against her cheek. And her full lips were slightly parted, begging him to thrust his tongue between them.

A lump rose in his throat as he stared down at her. Every curve was created to fit his body. Big spoon, little spoon—it didn’t matter. They fit together.

Except they didn’t. She was educated, he illiterate. She was an upstanding teacher, he an ex-con. They didn’t fit. The whole dream was in his head.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump. Maybe he should walk away and give her a fabulous next few days with another cowboy. As soon as he thought it, he forced it away.

The Boot Knockers rodeo would take place in a couple days. He was damn well going to show off for her at the rodeo then take her in his arms and kiss her—memories to be forever etched in his mind.

He sank to the edge of the mattress and eased beside her. Slipping his arm around her, he pulled her against his chest. She didn’t wake, just curled into him, her sweet hair against his nose.

As he drank in her scents, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Her future wasn’t here.

Her cell phone bleeped, notifying her of another text.

Chapter Nine

Ruthie came out of the bathroom to find a grinning Damian. He looked fresh and ready for the day, ruggedly handsome in a navy blue T-shirt with a Boot Knockers logo that enhanced his chest.

His bad-boy smile was breathtaking enough. But there was more.

He’d set a tray of fresh fruit, pancakes and coffee on the bed. Beside this was a complete outfit—cutoff shorts, a red tank top, a cowgirl hat and boots.

She plastered her hand to her chest. “What is this?”

He flipped a navy bandanna onto the bed. “For your neck.”

“But…”

“Today you’re a cowgirl, doll. We’re going to do ranch things and I’m going to photograph you.”

A smile spread over her face, and that warmth she shouldn’t feel infused her heart.

“Humor me, Ruthie. I love you in red.”

Especially on my ass.

Need spiked in her. She nodded and looked between breakfast and the clothes.

He laughed. “Eat first then dress.”

“Are you eating?”

“I grabbed a breakfast burrito when I went after the tray. Here, climb into bed and I’ll set the tray on your lap.” He patted the pillows he’d propped against the headboard.

As she sank against the plush pillows, she tried to remind herself this was his job. But the look in his eyes wouldn’t allow her to believe it. If she was delusional, it was only for a couple more days.

She rested back and accepted the tray across her lap. Before she could inhale the aroma of fresh pancakes, he plucked a strawberry from a bowl and dipped it in whipped cream.

He brought it toward her mouth. The closer he brought it, the faster he moved, until he was dive-bombing her. Whipped cream glanced off her lips, and she barely opened to take the sweet, delicious bite. Giggling, she said, “What was that?”

His eyes glittered with mischief. “Better yet, what is this?” He scooped a big dollop of whipped cream and spread it down over her cleavage.

She sucked in a breath of shock.

Damian dove for her, collapsing on top of the pancakes, squashing the fruit. The coffee carafe fell off the bed and hit the floor. “Damian!”

“Doll, you look good enough to eat. I’ll get you another tray later.” He licked the whipped cream trail, rumbling his appreciation.

Panting with want, she threw her head back, giving him better access. “Thought you had a…breakfast burrito.”

“This is dessert.” He slipped his fingers down her belly and cupped her mound. Lurid images of him spreading whipped cream over her clit and devouring it washed through her addled brain.

Suddenly he pulled back, his expression intense. “Let me get my camera.”

Dazed, she nodded. He rolled to the floor and picked up the carafe, which had somehow managed not to spill. She watched his ass as he crossed the room and grabbed his camera.

She burst out laughing.

He shot her an amused look. “What is it?”

“You have pancake on your hip.”

“Do I now?” He brushed it, and it fell to the floor. He scooped it up and dropped it into a wastebasket on his way back to her.

She set the tray aside and drew her knees up.

“No, don’t get nervous, doll. This is me and you. I want to remember you this way forever.”

Her eyes flared wide.

“I mean, you’ll want these photos, believe me.” He wouldn’t look at her as he instructed her to lie back again in the position she’d been in before he’d attacked her.

Heart thumping, she followed his orders while he snapped a dozen photos. Then he told her to open her robe.

Their gazes caught and held. She felt his caress on her soul. Losing herself to the moment, she did his bidding.

Damian drew a tremulous breath and reached for the whipped cream. He painted her body—breasts, belly, and a path down her mound. Her stomach rose and fell with her harsh breathing. When he put a strawberry in her hand, she gaped at him.

“Hold it by the stem and tease it over your clit.”

She stopped breathing. Could she do that? And have it memorialized on film? She was a teacher. If any of these photos were seen, she’d be ruined. Not to mention disowned by her strict parents.

“Trust me, Ruthie.”

Gulping, she pinched the strawberry stem and let her thighs fall apart. She eased the tip down, down, over her clit, shaking a little.

“Fucking hell. I’m going to eat you up after two photos, so I’d better get them right.” He crouched and zoomed in. Her clit swelled against the ripe berry, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to rub it.

Damian groaned. Another photo and he dropped his camera and lunged for her. He opened his mouth wide over the berry and her pussy. His teeth clamped around the fruit, and he came up chewing. Once he’d swallowed he ran his tongue down over her clit. “Mmmmm.”

She wiggled to get closer. He grabbed her hips and towed her down the bed, shoving his hands under her ass to angle her for his tongue. Each lick drove her higher. She twisted her hands in the sheets as unbelievable pleasure washed through her.

When he groped around the bed for another berry, she held her breath. As he pressed the tip into her body, she nearly died from ecstasy. He pulsed it once, twice, then pulled it out and devoured it in one big bite, stem and all.

Then he trapped her pussy under his tongue again. She came apart, shaking and moaning as the waves of bliss slammed into her. He lifted his head and met her gaze. Reaching for him, she whimpered, “I want you.”

He shook his head, the gleam in his eyes almost primal. “Not yet. Let’s…finish breakfast and get you dressed. I want to show you some things on the ranch before it rains again.”

Her body still hummed from her swift release, but she detected some underlying change in him.

“I’ll get you a cloth to wash off that whipped cream.”

She wanted to tell him to get back in bed with her and clean it with his tongue, but watched him vanish into the bathroom. When he returned, she washed herself and ate the rest of the fruit still on the tray. Then he went into the main room while she dressed in the outfit he’d brought her.

The boots fit her feet perfectly, the leather hugging her calves. She went into the bathroom to look into the full-length mirror. While she was in there, she picked up her cell from the countertop and snapped a selfie.

At that moment Andrew’s latest text popped up.
Ruthie, I can’t give up on us.

On a whim she sent him the photo. Would he see how happy she was here without him? No, he’d probably think she was sending him a cute picture of herself.

Damian made a noise. She looked up to see him in the doorway, eyes dark and his lips pressed into a firm line. “Ready?” he asked.

“Um, yeah.”

He didn’t mention her appearance, and she suddenly felt like an idiot. Her phone bleeped several times, alerting her to Andrew’s response to her picture. Without looking at it, she set the phone facedown on the counter and went out of the bungalow with Damian.

It only took him five seconds to forget his annoyance with Ruthie. He’d seen her snap the selfie and press send. Yeah, she’d most likely sent it to Andrew, but she had a right.

Damian wasn’t her boyfriend and had no claim on her. Besides, she looked fucking adorable dolled up in the cowgirl duds, and the flavor of strawberries and pussy were still on his tongue.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her down the steps. She quivered a little, and he dropped a kiss to the top of her hat. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.”

As they strolled past the line of bungalows to the horse barn, they passed several other couples. And Ty leaned against the fence, alone. At their approach, he raised a brow in question, but Damian shook his head.

No, Ruthie hadn’t requested a threesome. And hell if Damian would share her anyway. He gripped her fingers and hauled her away.

“I thought we were looking at the horses,” she said.

“We’ll go up to the top field where we can see them run.” They took fifty steps before he calmed enough to speak. He really needed to get a grip. Ruthie didn’t belong to him and never could. Hell, did he even want that?

The answer was a swift kick to the gut. Yes, he did. He wanted to wake up to her every day of his life, to take care of her, make love to her and photograph her any time he wanted.

And he wanted to flush her fucking cell phone down the toilet.

“Breezier today,” she said, voice unsure.

He glanced at her and saw the wariness in her eyes. Damn, that was his fault. His behavior was affecting her. “Usually breezier up here out of the valley. You okay climbing this hill?”

“Yes, the exercise feels good.” They angled their bodies and dug in their heels. Suddenly she chuckled.

He shot her a glance in question.

“It’s not as if I haven’t gotten
some
exercise.”

He smiled, but he didn’t feel it reach his eyes. They were on the downward slope of their time together. The ache in his chest spread.

They didn’t speak as they reached the top of the hill. Horses dotted the field, grazing or just drowsing in the sun. The sky was banked with clouds, rain forecast later in the day.

Actually, this was the last spot of sun they’d see before Ruthie left. If he was going to show her everything, they didn’t have a brooding moment to spare.

“They’re beautiful.” She gestured to the horses.

“Sure are.” Coats gleamed in the sun, their strong muscles outlined. “All healthy stock. Riggs says we’ll be able to sell some soon.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. I wish I had more of a hand in it. But frankly, I’m more of a common laborer around here.”

Something moved behind her eyes, and she twisted away.

“Let’s go into the field and see if they’ll let us pet them.” He took her hand and they walked a few hundred yards in silence. It was comfortable, yet he knew something was weighing on her. Was she thinking of Andrew?

“What about this guy you have back home—Andrew? He treat you nice?”

She looked startled. “Yes, I guess he does.”

“That’s good. You probably have a lot in common, being teachers and all. Lots to talk about.”

She folded her lips as if trapping whatever words she wanted to say. After another fifty yards, she stopped. “To be honest, I’m not at all sure about Andrew.”

His heart shot into the stratosphere. Elation gripped him.

Ruthie started walking again, shaking her head. “He’s a nice guy, but I…” She paused and tipped her face up to look into Damian’s eyes. “I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you.”

“Why? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

A smile tinged her lips. “Yes, we are. And I’m glad. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

I’m a no-good bum who didn’t finish school, can’t read and spent hard time in prison.

He directed his gaze to the sky, wishing like hell he had something good to relate to her. “I did a stint with the rodeo.”

She perked up. “Yeah?”

“Not on the back of a horse or a bull, mind you. But I was mighty good at shoveling manure out of the arena.”

She laughed, the sound like bells in the dark chasms of his mind. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. She molded to him and slid her arm around his middle. They approached a couple horses standing near the fence.

“What are they? Males or females?”

“Both females. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to tell the difference.”

She punched him in the arm. “Of course I do.”

Grinning, he squeezed her. Never wanting to let her go. Dammit, he couldn’t go on pretending he didn’t want to just walk off the ranch with her and never look back. She’d wriggled into his heart. If only he could show her the real Damian.

But then she’ll hate me.

They eased up to the horses and spent some time stroking their hides. Ruthie tangled her fingers in the chestnut mane of one mare and combed out some tangles.

“You’re a natural with the horses. Ever thought of owning one?”

“I’d love to, sure. But I live in a village in a small rental house. Not exactly accommodating for a horse.”

“Cat or dog?”

“Nope. No pets allowed.” Her eyes were downcast. “In fact, I’ve never owned a pet.”

“What? Not even as a kid?”

“No. My parents were set in their ways, and they didn’t think I needed anything but the Lord.”

He nodded, almost grasping how much she’d actually gone without as a child. Scripture and church dinners hadn’t given her what she needed—love and understanding.

In a way, he hadn’t gotten those things either. When he’d started acting out at school and home, his parents had basically cut him loose. They hadn’t kept tabs on his activities, and he’d ended up raising himself. After he’d dropped out of school, he’d moved in with a friend who was a bad influence. Then prison.

They drifted closer together until their shoulders were touching.

Damian nuzzled her ear. “First thing I’d do is get you a new house, out in the country where you could have horses, chickens and a goat if you wanted. Then I’d bring you a puppy.”

She made a quiet noise and leaned into him.

“Big puppy? Yellow?”

“Yes.” A smile was in her voice.

His heart swelled, flowing over with want for this woman. No, not want.

Love.

He nipped her earlobe to cover his emotion. “That’s exactly what I’d choose too. It’s getting hot. Let’s go down and jump into the pool.”

She swung her gaze to his. “Nude?”

“If you want. But it’s a public pool.”

“I think my bathing suit will be fine.”

They floated around the pool for a while. Then Ruthie jumped on his back and he did six laps with her. As he pushed off for a seventh, she squealed for him to stop.

“You’re going to tire yourself!”

“Nah. I could do this all day.” He grasped her arms and maneuvered her around his body so he could look at her beautiful face. Her eyes shined, her cheeks flushed with healthy color. He ground his erection against her pussy, wishing she wasn’t covered in pale blue Lycra. “I could do this all day too.”

She moaned, and he trapped it under his mouth. The kiss was tender, slow and sweet. He tried to double his arms around her, to hold her closer than he ever had. God, if ever there was a moment he wanted inside her without the barrier of a condom, it was right now.