Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 (13 page)

She rocked against him.

“Damn, baby.” He pressed her against the side of the pool and slid a finger under the elastic leg of her swim suit. Her heated folds were slick and ready for him.

Growling, he angled his head and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, taking her flavors and small sounds inside him. His cock throbbed. Her wet heat was so close but the condom so far away. For a dizzying moment he thought about just anchoring her against the side and sinking into her inch by mind-blowing inch.

She scraped her nails over his shoulders as they kissed. He drilled two fingers into her tight cunt, making her cry out. Bracing her on his thigh, he watched the pleasure ripple across her features and fucked her with his fingers.

Do it. Take her, then go back to the ranch, pack your stuff and hers, and leave with her.

He curled his fingers against her inner wall, and she sucked in a gasp. “Right there, doll? Hell yeah, I feel how wet you are, clenching around my fingers. Fuck them, take what you need.”

“I need…you.” She darted in and bit his lower lip. The sting of the bite sent him reeling out of control. Hand shaking, he nudged down his swim trunks and yanked his cock free. He gave it one hard stroke before angling it toward her center.

She clutched at him and slid her legs up around his hips.

Voices sounded from the other side of the cement wall barrier. For a minute he couldn’t make sense of where they were coming from. He started to sink into his lover.

“Looks like we’re interrupting.” A woman giggled.

Brain shot with lust, Damian glanced up to see Jack with his girl of the week.

Damian jerked his cock free of Ruthie’s plump outer lips and quickly slid the cloth of her swimsuit over her pussy. Once he’d righted his trunks, he glared at Jack. He wanted to beat the guy to a pulp. Then again, he’d saved Damian from making a costly mistake.

Ruthie buried her face against his neck, breathing hard. Damian pushed away from the wall, swimming with her across the pool to the steps at the opposite end. By the time he got her out and wrapped in a fluffy towel, he had a grip on his control once more.

Of course, it wasn’t much of a grip. If Ruthie asked him to stop halfway back to the bungalow and fuck her bareback, he’d do it. He wanted her in every single way possible.

He shook himself. “Let’s go.”

Too good at tapping into his moods, she gave him a look of apprehension. He grabbed her hand and they left the pool area. He had less than forty-eight hours to get her out of his system while still delivering all the pleasure she needed. It could be done.

If he weren’t madly in love with her.

Chapter Ten

Awareness settled over Ruthie, and she hadn’t opened her eyes yet. The warm weight of Damian’s hand on her abdomen felt good. His big, muscular thighs cradling the backs of hers was just right.

Actually, everything about him gave her a feeling of rightness.

On the dresser her cell bleeped. Damn, Andrew woke up too early. She needed to let him down, but couldn’t do it via text. When she got home she’d invite him to meet for coffee and she’d break it off with him.

After being with a man like Damian, she couldn’t keep pretending she and Andrew had something special.

Cracking open her eyes, she blinked at the sunlight streaming through the south-facing windows. Beyond the bungalows were fields filled with life—a life she hoped to take home with her.

Today was her last full day.

As the thought filled her mind, a cramp formed in her belly. Her urge was to fold around it, but Damian’s hand already covered the pain, the heat from his body unknotting her insides.

She turned into his arms, and he gave a low moan. God, she loved being in this bed with him—never wanted to leave. She gazed at the red-gold of his beard and the rugged lines of his jaw, imagining waking to him every day of her life.

But no. He was her week-long fling. Her heart might be screaming for more, but it wasn’t to be.

“Mmm.” He fitted his hand against her spine and dragged her closer. She quivered. Man, leather and her. A lump rose in her throat.

Her phone bleeped two more times, and Damian tensed. When no more texts came, he breathed, “You’d think that ass would get the hint that you’re in bed with another man.”

Her stomach flipped then warmth spread through her belly. Was it possible he was jealous?

Damian rubbed his jaw over the top of her head, sending chills through her. “I’m sorry. I have no right to say that.”

She fell still, waiting for more, wanting more.

“Today’s the rodeo. You’d better wear your cowgirl hat and boots.”

She loved the sleepy drawl of his voice in the mornings. And the way his heart drummed under her ear.

The phone sounded.

“Dammit.” He released her and rolled out of bed. She stared at his wild hair and wilder eyes, watching in shock as he stomped to the dresser, ripped open a drawer, and swept her phone inside.

When he turned his gaze on her, every hair on her body stood up. She jerked into a sitting position, heart racing. His expression—

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I’m getting a little possessive of my time with you.” He smiled like a chastised boy, but his eyes were dead serious.

Unable to speak around her whirring mind, she held out her arms. And Damian launched himself into bed with her, tossing her onto her back and stealing all her thoughts for toe-curling minutes.

When she was sated and tucked against his side again, her logical mind tried to puzzle a way to stay here and do this forever.

Damian wouldn’t allow Ruthie to see him get ready for the weekly ranch rodeo. Like a bride on her wedding day, he took himself off to his own quarters to get dressed.

After he left, Ruthie lay in bed, absorbing what was happening inside her. If he asked her to stay here another week, she’d write a check in a heartbeat. A month? Hell yes. She was without obligations and could stay all summer.

But Damian wouldn’t do that. Her throat closed off at the idea that next week, another woman might be lying in this bed with him.

“No,” she whispered and swung her legs over the mattress. Trying to block all thoughts from her mind, she rushed through her daily routine. After dressing as a “proper cowgirl” as he’d instructed her, she retrieved her phone from the drawer and sat down with her real life.

One glance at her phone and she groaned. Andrew was quoting poetry now.

Could she break things off from a thousand miles away? Maybe she should put an end to this now.

Steeling herself, she texted him.
I’m here.

He responded instantly.
My passionate wildflower!

She grunted. Two months ago she might have smiled at his prose, but after being with Damian, it sounded hokey. She much preferred “doll” or “baby.” Or better yet, for Damian to just capture her mouth and feed her his tongue.

She shivered.

Andrew, I’m sorry I haven’t been responding. I told you I’m in TX.

Yes. But for how long? Will you answer me about that?

God, she could almost hear his desperation. Yes, it was time to let him down.

Not for much longer, but I’ve been thinking.

Me too. Ruthie, I’m falling for you.

“Oh no.” That was the last thing she needed to hear.
We need to talk.

Yes! Call!

Not yet. She needed a second to gather her thoughts before telling Andrew she wasn’t interested. She set down the phone and went into the front room of the bungalow, where she found a tray with a small bouquet of pink flowers, a small pitcher of orange juice and some toast.

Damian. Her heart flexed. Sure, sending her breakfast was probably part of his job, but everything he did for her felt like more. She poured herself some juice and drank it, then nibbled on toast. When she dropped her nose into the bouquet, tears filled her eyes.

Her feelings for Damian couldn’t be denied. As Andrew said he was falling for her, Ruthie was falling—
had fallen
—for Damian. What was she going to do?

There was only one thing
to
do. She’d throw herself into enjoying her final hours with him. Then tomorrow she’d fly back home and do her best to move on with her life.

For the third time, Damian walked around the fence and swept his gaze over the wooden bleachers but didn’t spot Ruthie’s beautiful face. What was keeping her? Maybe she was taking a long bath.

Or texting Andrew.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a scuffle of movement. Cowboys pushing. Their voices raised.

“Get the hell away from me,” Paul grunted as he shoved Jack square in the chest.

Two other Boot Knockers stood back to watch, but Damian moved in to break it up.

“You know I’m the best at popping cherries,” Jack said with his usual good-natured grin. “I’ll go easy, Paul.”

“Shut up, man.” Paul’s eyes burned with something more than anger.

Jack looked down and cut a path through the dirt with his boot heel. “I was just kidding.”

Damian looked between the guy who refused all relations with men and Jack, who looked a little hurt and a lot sorry. Closing the distance between them, Damian clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“You’re hitting on the wrong cowboy,” he said quietly.

“Don’t I know it.” Jack pulled free of Damian’s grasp, turned and walked away to talk to a few others.

Damian approached Paul, whose face was still beet red. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” His tone didn’t sound okay.

“You knew when you took the position that a lot of the guys—”

Paul cut him off, slashing the air with a hand. “I thought I knew everything about this job. I didn’t think I’d ever…” With that he walked off in the direction opposite to Jack.

“We ready, Boot Knockers? We have some eager ladies in the audience waiting for a great show,” Hugh boomed as he strode through the group.

The Boot Knockers liked to show off their skills. Most of them had a history with the rodeo, and some had trophy buckles to prove it. They each took an event and allowed the ladies to whoop and cheer. It was always a good ending to the week, but Damian’s chest was on fire with the idea of Ruthie going home.

When he peered into the crowd again, he spotted her. The air whooshed from his lungs as he drank in her appearance. She glowed in a red top and denim shorts. Add the hat and boots and Damian’s cock swelled with need. Her hair fell perfectly over one dark eye, and he looked closer.

Her face was drawn, unhappy.

He started out of the gate, but Hugh caught his elbow. “You’re up second, Damian. You don’t have time to carouse.”

Dammit, he was right. But he needed to know what kept a smile from her pretty face.

He scrubbed a hand over his own and continued to watch her as Isabel announced the start of the rodeo. During the first event, a team roping between Stowe and Quay, Damian watched Ruthie. She tracked the movement in front of her but her expression didn’t change.

What was she thinking? Damian tightened his grip on the fence to keep himself from going to her.

Cheers resounded from the crowd and the cowboys applauded the team roping. Then Isabel announced Damian.

Ruthie sat up straight, her lips falling open slightly.

Damian nudged his fly to ease his sudden arousal. On his way into the arena, he grabbed a coiled rope and slung it over his shoulder.

As he took his place in the center of the dirt arena, his thoughts were only for giving his best effort for Ruthie. He looked into her eyes and tipped his hat. She grinned.

Excitement wove through him as he performed with the rope, tying a lasso and doing tricks with it. Hugh tossed a rubber play ball into the arena, and Damian snagged it out of the air with the lasso.

He whirled the lasso and jumped through it while it was still twirling. Ruthie clapped with glee.

Hugh sent a goat in, followed by three calves. Damian roped and tied each in rapid succession that would have earned him great marks if he were actually competing. He’d never performed this well. Then again, Ruthie had never been in the audience.

For the final trick, Hugh nudged a child’s toy duck with wheels with his boot, sending it sailing by Damian. The audience cracked up laughing as Damian pretended to miss it.

Ruthie stood up, her face alive in a way that made his heart clench. He took two steps toward the stands before remembering he needed to finish his show.

He gave an exaggerated shrug that he’d missed the toy duck, got a lot of hoots and applause, then bowed and ran out.

“Great job!” Jack clapped him on the back as he went by.

“Thanks.” He dropped the rope and continued to run straight for Ruthie.

By the time he reached the stands, he was as hard as a rock. She practically fell into his arms as he reached her. He caught her against him, letting her feel his blatant arousal.

She went boneless, and he couldn’t stop himself. He swept her off her feet and carried her halfway back to the bungalow, kissing her all the way. Then he couldn’t stand it another minute. He dug out a condom and detoured to the high grasses, where he threw her legs over his shoulders and drove into her until she looked into his eyes and screamed her release.

Ruthie still buzzed from the thorough loving she’d received in the field, but it wasn’t enough. She would never get enough of Damian.

Seeing him in that arena, doing unfathomable things with ropes, only made her want to know him better—and love him more. Yes, she’d admitted it to herself at the moment he’d failed to lasso that toy duck.

She wanted him in her life. Not because he’d given her countless orgasms or because he looked hot as hell in fringed chaps, but because he was perfect.
For me.

She plucked at the corset he’d ordered her to put on so he could do one last photo session. In the red satin and ribbons she felt beautiful and seductive. When he came back with his camera equipment, she’d give her best performance. After she left she wanted her images burned into his mind as his were in hers.

Sprawling across the bed, she waited. And waited. The ceiling fan churned the hot air around but didn’t offer much relief. She reached onto the lower shelf of the nightstand and chose a random book.

As soon as she opened it, she grew engulfed in the erotic story. Her need spiked, and she slid her hand into her panties, teasing her hard clit as she read, fantasizing Damian doing these things to her.

A low growl sounded, and she jerked her hand free, flushing hot.

His shoulders filled the doorway, broad in his denim shirt. His camera bag was slung over one shoulder, and he let it slip to the floor so he could unbutton his shirt.

Ruthie’s breath came faster. Holding her gaze, he stripped his shirt off and the T-shirt underneath it too, leaving him in only low-slung jeans, boots and hat. His chaps had been removed in the field.

He smacked his knuckles off his hat brim, sending the brown felt to the floor. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

“I guess I got caught up.” She held the book out.

He grunted, his eyes blue fire. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Heart tripping, she pushed through her embarrassment and started reading again while he set up his camera on the tripod. Ripples of want scattered over her skin.

Snap, snap.

“Do you want to touch yourself, baby?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do it. Pull that thong aside and bury your fingers in your pretty little snatch.” One eye gleamed from above the camera.

A quiet gasp left her. She tried to hold the book and push aside her panties but her hands were shaking so badly, she needed both. She thrust the book at him. “You read it to me.”

He fell still then reluctantly took the book. She waited for his voice reciting the hot words. Her pussy squeezed in anticipation.

After a long moment his words came. “He stroked her clit with his finger, painting her juices over her swollen flesh.”

“Mmm.” She circled her clit. Damian snapped another photo.

“‘I’m going to tie you to the bed and make you cry my name,’ he said.”

Shock tore through her. He wasn’t reading—he was improvising. In fact, he wasn’t looking at the book but at her through the lens. She lost herself to his voice for long minutes, letting his dirty words wash through her system until her pulse pounded in every corner of her body.

“She dug her nails into his back as he drove his fingers into her wet heat.”

She rocked her hips, grinding her clit against her fingers. Her pussy was soaking, ready for him. As he continued in his low drawl, she thought she’d go insane.

“He sank into her pussy very slowly.” His eyes were half-lidded, filled with lust.