Cowboy Redemption (Down Under Cowboy Book 6) (11 page)

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Kye,” she whispers in the darkness.

“Good.  Then catch up, baby, because I know I’m falling for you.”

She smiles and lets out a breath of relief.  I kiss her nose and pull her into my body.  Throwing a blanket over us, I give her a squeeze.

“I’ll wake you in the morning, early enough for you to get back to the Retreat.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Go to sleep,” I order.  Five minutes later, right before I drift off myself, the sound of her soft, sweet snores fills my ears.

Kennedy

For the past two weeks I have felt kind of crumby.  One of the residents who I thought showed a lot of promise and potential ended up re-offending and was sent to jail.  Unfortunately, their crimes got worse in nature, and in the end it was armed robbery that got them sent to prison for a minimum of six years.  It’s extremely disappointing and discouraging when things like this happen.  It is inevitable, I know, but it still affects me deeply.  I want the best for these kids. I want them to excel and to implement the tools we give them to improve their lives.  Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

Shaking off my melancholy, I concentrate on what Maria is saying.  We are having a team meeting because some changes are being made.  They don’t really apply to me, but I still have to be here because I’m a mentor.

“Basically what it means is the minor residents and their mentors will remain unaffected.  The programs in place seem to be working well and the outcomes have been very positive, for the most part.  The main changes will occur in the group with the older residents.  Since the rebuild was completed some weeks ago, we have been in limbo.  Now, we have a new project to work on and I think it will be extremely productive and efficient.  A nearby town has asked us to help them design and build a community garden.  The design will have to be both economical and cost friendly.  There are opportunities for the minor residents to participate as well.  We’ll discuss those opportunities more as they approach.  For now though, I’ll hand you each a booklet that I’d like you all to look over.  Any questions, please ask.  Other than that, I will see you all bright and early in the morning.”  She hands us the paperwork and we all stand to leave.  It’s late and I’m tired, but I really wanted to speak to Kye before I go to sleep.  Since we made love under the stars at his camp (and again the next morning as the sun was rising over us before I headed back to work), I haven’t had a chance to see him a lot.  He has been working in town and not getting home until late.  I have managed to have dinner with him once at the pub, and also lunch twice.  But I need more.  I want more.  For now, our nightly phone calls will have to suffice.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder…right?

My phone rings as I open the door to my hut.  Sliding it out of my back pocket, I see Kye’s name on the screen and smile. 

I bring it to my ear.  “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, beautiful,” he replies and I can hear the smile in his voice.  I walk inside and close the door behind me.

“How was your day?”  I ask him, as I take a bottle of water from the fridge.  Cracking the top, I take a mouthful and swallow while he answers.

“Good. Busy.  Finished the job though, and then they asked me to come in again tomorrow to do some repairs to their garage.”

“That’s great you’re getting so much work.  Good job, babe.”

“Thanks, beautiful.  How was your day?”

“It was good,” I go on to tell him about the meeting with Maria and the new project for the residents.

“Sounds good.  That’ll keep ‘em busy, make ‘em think,” he says.  I can hear the tiredness in his voice and I wish I were with him so I could curl up in his arms and fall asleep with him.

“I miss you,” I say softly.

“Me too, Kennedy.  Me too.  I’ll come by and pick you up tomorrow night.  We’ll go have dinner and see a movie.  Sound good?”

“That sounds perfect.”  I immediately perk up.  “I’ll let you go now.  You sound tired.”

“Okay, baby.  Got a bit to do before I hit the hay, but daylight’s fading fast.”

“Oh!  Did you speak with Jackson yesterday about the house?”

“Yep. I’m good to move in whenever.”

“Let me know if you need any help.  We could do it this weekend?  I can get Saturday off.”

“Sounds good to me.  See you tomorrow, darlin’.”  His rough voice gets a little rougher, huskier, giving me goose bumps. 

“Tomorrow,” I whisper my confirmation.  “Night, baby.”

“Night.”

~*~

The day drags on.  With the promise of Kye’s arrival later today constantly at the forefront of my mind, I find it hard to stop checking the clock.  As a result, time seems to pass so slowly.

It was raining heavily this morning, so our swimming lessons were cancelled.  Instead, we watched a movie on the effects of teenage depression, drug use and suicide.  It was very informative and I hope we can watch it with all new residents.  After, the residents did their journals and I also asked my group to write their goals for the next five years.  I wanted them to be realistic, in the hopes they will stick to them when they leave here, instead of reverting to their old ways.

After lunch, I did my cooking class with a few of the kids.  Today, we made corned beef and vegetables with cheese sauce.  Then as a special treat, I taught them how to make golden syrup dumplings for dessert.  It went down a treat and all the kids did fantastically. 

Finally,
finally
, I hear a knock on my door.  I have showered, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair up and applied some mascara.  What I
haven’t
done is got dressed.

Shit.

“Coming!” I shout.  Tugging my towel around me tightly, I race to the door and swing it open.

“Come in, come in.  Sorry I’m running late.”  I hold the door open and he walks through, his eyes slowly raking up my body.  He quirks a brow and grins.

“I won’t be a minute,” I say.  I turn around to dart off but let out a yelp when he grabs my arm and halts me, tugging me back.  My body collides with his and the towel falls, pooling around my feet.  I feel my cheeks go bright red.

“You didn’t give me a kiss,” he states, clearly ignoring the fact that I am now buck naked against him.

Rather than concentrate on that fact, I go up on my toes and touch my lips to his.  His hands go to my bare bum and he squeezes before growling and deepening the kiss.  My blood heats and my nipples pucker.  They rub against his shirt, sending a ripple of pleasure through my body.  All of a sudden, I don’t want to see a movie.  I’m not hungry for food.

I’m hungry for Kye.

My hands go to his buttons and with shaking fingers, I manage to undo them all before sliding his shirt off his shoulders.  When it falls to the floor, joining my towel, I undo his belt and his jeans, pushing them down his legs.  His cock prods me in the stomach and my mouth waters.  I want to taste him, but first I want to run my tongue along the tattoo that runs down his arm.  Intricate lines of black, woven together weave from his shoulder to his wrist.  My tongue darts out, tasting his salty flesh.  He growls low in his chest and the sound spurs me on.  I suck and nibble on his neck before gently nipping his lobe.  His skin is soft and hot under my touch.  His abdominal muscles shiver under my palm as I run my hand over the contours of his stomach.  I move around his back, kissing his shoulders softly as I go.  He waits patiently, his breathing hoarse, as I explore his upper body with my mouth and tongue. 

When I come back around to his front, he is clearly running out of patience.  His body is taut, his fists clenched.  His eyes are closed, his breathes coming in hard pants.

“You’re so sexy,” I whisper.

“Enough,” he growls, gripping my hips.  He pushes me backward and my back collides with the wall.  He boosts me up and my legs go around his waist.  His cock is right there. 
Right.  There.

“Fuck me,” I beg shamelessly.

Reaching between us, he rolls on a condom and then torturously slowly drags one finger through the slit between my legs.  I gasp and he gives me a gratified smile.

“You’re wet,” he states.

“It’s always that way when I’m near you,” I admit.

With a growl of satisfaction, he guides the tip of his cock just inside me.

He smirks.  “With pleasure,” he rasps.  Then he drives inside forcefully.  My back arches off the wall and I clamp down on him with my legs and my inner walls.

“Kye!  God,
yes!”
  I cry out as he thrusts urgently, hard and fast.  The power behind his hips is mind-blowing – literally.  My body begins tightening, like a King Brown snake coiled and ready to strike without warning.  He drops his head and pulls one of my aching nipples into his mouth, sucking and manipulating the bud with his tongue, teeth and lips.  I grip his hair, holding him close with one hand as the other slides down his back, needing to feel every inch of him, unable to stop.

Supporting my arse with one hand, he pushes me further into the wall and this thumb finds my swollen clit. 

“Feels so good,” I manage through a whimper.  My breath hitches and I exhale with a burst.  He releases my nipple with a pop and then latches on right near my collarbone, marking me.  I clamp down on him, unashamed of how much I like the feeling of him branding me.  My body trembles and I cry out as I fall over the cliff, flying through the air in a haze of sweet, sweet bliss.

“Kye,” I breathe.  “Yes.”  He swallows my moans as his mouth closes over mine.  He thrusts in once, twice, three times before stilling on the fourth inward slide and then he’s coming.  Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he groans as he loses himself.  His slides turn to glides as he extricates every last drop of himself.  I hold on, enjoying the ride, loving the sheer intimacy surrounding us and wishing this moment could last forever.  This moment where we are both feeling complete contentment, utterly fulfilled and sexually sated.  This moment where nothing and no one exists in the world except us.  This moment where I am no longer
thinking
I’m falling for him, but I know it with extreme clarity.

I am lost to him, and I never want to be found.

~*~

We finally managed to drag ourselves out of the house.  We were too late to make it to the screening of the movie Kye had picked, so instead, we got takeout and decided to walk along the main street where an open-air night market was being held. 

There are people everywhere.  Tables line both sides of the street with vendors selling their goods and buyers looking for a bargain.  The smells of home baked goods and barbequed meat fills the air. 

“He’s pretty good,” I say, as we stop to listen to a guy singing country music.

“He is,” Kye agrees, tossing a bunch of coins in the guy’s guitar case lying at his feet.

With his arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist, we walk along, browsing the goods up for sale.  At one table, I find the most gorgeous vintage necklace and earrings set that I just
have to have
.

“This is stunning,” I say, admiring the beautiful beaded strands in my hand. 

“You’re stunning,” Kye whispers in my ear, making me smile.

“I’ll take these, please,” I tell the lady behind the table.

“Excellent choice.  These beads are exquisite and are made from hand-blown glass.  No two will ever be the same, so you’ve got yourself a very unique item of jewellery.”

“That’s amazing,” I gasp.  Before I can take out my purse to pay, Kye hands the lady some cash and she smiles, thanking him.

I look at him with accusatory eyes.  “I could have paid for that.”

“My treat,” he says with a shrug.

By the time we have perused all of the tables, our arms are laden with goods.  Kye has thoroughly spoiled me, and I even managed to sneak in a present or two for him.  I purchased him an all-purpose pocket knife and a tool kit.  I figured he could use them both for work.  He loved them, but wasn’t too keen on me paying for things.

“I’m a man, and when you’re with me, I pay,” he told me.

“Deal with it,” I replied, throwing him a sassy wink.

We make it back to Kye’s truck just before my fingers fall off due to lack of circulation from carting all the bags around.  We place them all in the back, making sure to lay the home-baked cakes I bought up the front so they won’t get squashed.

“I’m exhausted,” I sigh, leaning against the cab while Kye fishes his keys from his pocket.

“Will ice cream make you feel better?” he asks, his voice turning seductive.  I manage a slight nod as his eyes hold me entranced.  He licks his lips and I find myself mirroring him.  Lowering his head, but keeping his eyes on mine, he sucks my bottom lip between his own.  I shiver.  The street around is bustling with people and the act feels extremely intimate and erotic, yet I can’t find it in me to care who sees us.  I love the way he makes me feel.  Confident.  Wanted.  Amazing.

Kennedy

Men can be so damn infuriating sometimes.  I mean, seriously, they don’t
always
know better and they don’t
always
know the right way to do things.  Sometimes, we women actually do know what we’re doing and there
is
a method to our madness.

I’m dusting the window sills when Kye walks in, carrying a bagful of clothes.  He dumps them beside the bed and then walks back out to get another load of his belongings.  We have been moving him into the cottage behind Edie and Jackson’s house all morning.  While I have been doing some basic cleaning (mainly just dusting and running a broom around to get rid of the cobwebs), Kye has been moving his stuff in. 

When I am done with the final room, I do a walk-thru and make sure I didn’t miss anything.  The house had been freshly painted before Jules moved in a few years ago, but she left shortly after arriving to move in with Clay.  Since then the place has been vacant.  Obviously, it’s a little stuffy and the fridge needs airing out.  I opened the windows when we first arrived, which has helped a lot and I sprayed some air freshener as well.

The house is almost fully furnished as well, which is a godsend, since Kye doesn’t have any furniture items.

“I’ve gone through and checked everything over.  I think all we need to buy is some curtains, new linens and some towels.  Oh, and maybe some crockery and cutlery as well,” I tell him when he joins me in the living room.

“Let’s go shopping then.”

We climb in his truck and drive into Darwin.  I direct Kye to the nearest homemaker store and he pulls the truck to a stop.  Once we’re inside, I browse the items, looking for the best deals.

“Here’s some plates,” he states, dumping a box in the trolley.

“Those are pretty plain.” I scrunch my nose up at the khaki green crockery.  “What about these ones?” I show him the box I was looking at.  The plates are white with alternating chunky swirl patterns of navy blue and deep red. 

“Yep, they look good.” He pulls his box from the cart and places it back on the shelf before taking the box I’m holding from my arms and putting it in the trolley.  I roll my eyes and we move through the aisles, ticking things off his list.

“This comforter set is nice.  Do you like it?”

“Yep,” he replies shortly, looking bored.

“Ooo-kay, then,” I mutter, tossing the linen in the trolley.  We pick up some towels, washers and a bath mat.  Then I see the most gorgeous mocha shag rug that would look amazing against the floorboards in the living room.

“This is beautiful,” I tell him, stroking the rug.  “You should get it for the lounge room.”

“Woman,” he sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration.  I can hear the sound of his three-day growth rubbing against his hands.  “I’m a bloke.  We don’t care about rugs and fancy plates.  If we can eat off of it, that’s great.  Doesn’t matter whether it’s pretty or not.  As for rugs, I don’t give a shit about rugs.  A plate, a knife and fork, a good coffee mug, and a towel is about all I need.”

“Yes, but this rug would look amazing on the floor, plus it would warm your feet on chilly mornings,” I argue.

“Got Uggies for that,” he counters.

Fucking men!

I lift the rug and shove it in the trolley.  “Consider it my housewarming gift to you.”  I stomp off in the direction of the cups and he follows behind me.

“Choose your mug,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Don’t be like that, Kennedy,” he cajoles, leaving the trolley to wrap me in his arms.  Kissing my forehead, he moves so we are standing side by side with one his arms around my shoulders.  “Which do you like?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I mutter sullenly.

“Yes you do.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “I bet you’ve already found the one you like the best anyway.  Pick for me, darlin’.”

“Those ones,” I say, pointing to a gorgeous, heavy-bottomed set of four mugs that match his crockery.

“They’ll do.”

Over my little snit, I move on, browsing the shelves in front of me.

“What about these?” I ask him.

“What are they for?”

“You put your coffee and sugar in them,” I explain.

“Don’t you just leave them in the containers they come in?” he replies.

Typical male.

I toss them in the trolley and we continue on.

“This is cute.”  I admire the beautiful abstract painting of Ayers Rock during sunset.  “It would look good on the wall in the kitchen.”

“Babe.”  He sounds tired.  Annoyed. 

Well, he can join the damn club.

“Okay then, let’ go pay.”

After paying, we load Kye’s purchases (and the few things I grabbed for myself and for Kye, namely the rug).  Then we drive to the grocery store and stock up on food before going back to the cottage and unloading everything. 

“Does this look straight to you?” I ask Kye, who is hanging curtains.

“Just a sec.”

I wait patiently, busying myself with adjusting the furniture and trying to get everything perfect.

“Yep, looks good,” he answers.

“You didn’t even look,” I accuse.

“I did,” he protests, still standing on the ladder, preoccupied with the curtains.

“Kye, seriously.  It will make the whole room look out of joint if it isn’t straight.  Can you just take a minute to check for me?”

“Look, Kennedy, it’s fine. I don’t care if it’s straight or lop-fucking-sided,” he grits out.

“Well, if you’re going to get all pissy with me, I’ll leave it.”

“For fucks sake woman. You’d try the patience of a saint,” he mutters.

I stride into the kitchen and start pulling the crockery from their boxes.  I stack them in the sink to wash them first and then unpack the mugs and utensils.  I also convinced Kye to buy a pots and pans set and an electric frypan.  Once everything is out of the boxes, I fill the sink and begin washing.  Kye has moved to the next room to hang his curtains in there.  I’m glad, because he is certainly testing my patience today.  I realize shopping is mostly more enjoyed by women, but still.  We were shopping for things for
his
new home and I was trying to help
him
out by suggesting pieces that would make his new cottage homey.  I wasn’t trying to be annoying or bitchy.  I was just trying to help.

The more I think about it, the angrier I remain.  I wash and dry the dishes more forcefully than needed.  Once they are done, I pack them away and slam the cupboard doors shut.

Spinning around, I see Kye leaning against the doorjamb.  His legs are crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his chest.  A smirk plays on his lips and his gorgeous eyes are dancing.

“Curtains are done,” he informs me.

“Shit’s put away,” I tell him, throwing my arm out.  His eyes immediately go to my chest as my shirt pulls tight there. 

“You know what I love?” he asks, his voice husky as he stalks toward me.

“What?” I back up into the counter.  With nowhere to go, I stand still and wait for him to reach me.  Since he only had to walk four steps, he is in front of me in seconds.

“This, right here.”  He runs his thumb along a exposed piece of skin just above my shorts, near my hips.  “So smooth and soft, tanned.  Fucking beautiful.  When you bend or reach, this piece of skin right here shows.  I love it.”

“Oh, well, okay.”  I swallow.

His finger comes up and begins trailing the skin around the top of my tank top.  Down over my collarbone and over the rise of my breast.  He dips his finger inside my cleavage before coming up the other side.  “Fucking love this top, Kennedy.  You bend over, I get the best view of your pretty titties.  Love these shorts too.”

His hand goes to the hem of my short shorts and he runs his finger back and forth.  My breath catches.

“You can’t seduce me,” I whisper.

“Don’t be mad.  I don’t like shopping, babe. You see something you think I’ll like, put it in the trolley, I’ll buy it.  Don’t repeatedly ask for my opinion on things that one, I know nothing about, and two, I don’t particularly give a shit about,” he tells me.

“You don’t have to be such an arsehole about it, though.  You can be nice and indulge me, or act like you care.  You have to live here, so you have to like the things you’re surrounded by,” I argue.

“That’s what you’re not getting, Kennedy.  I don’t care for materialistic shit.  I told you what I need.  For fucks sake, woman, I’ve been camping in the middle of nowhere for the past three months. Do you really think I give a fuck about coffee containers and fluffy rugs?”  His voice is raised.

“That’s exactly why I thought you might appreciate some
materialistic shit
, as you so aptly put it!” I shout back. 

“Fuck, you look sexy when you’re mad,” he observes.

“Compliments won’t work on me,” I inform him, crossing my arms over my chest and jutting out a hip, which is difficult considering he is still right in front of me.  I manage it though.  Barely.  His gaze drops down to my boobs, which have been pushed up by my arms.  I roll my eyes and sigh audibly. 

“You know what? I don’t have time for this.” 

I know exactly where it’s going to lead –
makeup sex.
  And in my past, I know makeup sex isn’t all it is cracked up to be in movies and books.  The guys takes his frustration and anger out on you and you walk away being more pissed off than before, with the added bonus of being sexually frustrated from lack of orgasm and with bruises on different parts of your body.

Makeup sex is not for me.  No thank you.

I grit my teeth, hating how good he looks when he is giving me those bedroom eyes.  I look away, determined not to give in to him. 

He pissed me off.

I’m cranky with him. 

He’s a stupid, pig-headed, stubborn-arse male.

“Don’t be mad, darlin’,” he says sweetly, leaning in to kiss my neck.

“I don’t have time for this.  You need to go and put those new linens on your bed or check to see if that damn rug is straight.  Move back,” I demand.

He straightens, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

“You wanna hold onto your little snit, Kennedy?” he asks sinisterly.

I don’t reply, mainly because I’m pretty certain the question is rhetorical. 

“You want something to fight about?”

Again, I stay silent.

“Or, maybe you just want me to fuck you rough?”

Maybe rough with Kye wouldn’t be so bad…

“Cat got your tongue?” he leers.  His jaw ticks when I say nothing.

“You know what?  Fuck you.  I got shit to do,” he says.

“No, fuck you! I’m here helping
you
out, moving
your
shit into
your
new place and doing
you
a favour.  So don’t tell me fuck you.”  I push him back with all my might.  He rocks back on his heels, allowing me enough space to squeeze past him and storm through the house, slamming the front door as I leave.

Fuck him.

I make it out the front, then remember he drove us here.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

Fuck him!

Instead of heading left, which will lead me to the main road, I walk off in to the right.  Edie and Jackson live not far from here, and I’m hoping one of them is home and can give me a lift.  I keep my eyes on the ground, watching for snakes as I fast walk down the gravel road.

I don’t make it far before I hear the thudding footsteps of Kye coming up fast behind me.  Grabbing me at the hips, he spins me around. 

“Stop!” he commands.

“No! Go away.” I try to tug away from him, but he holds firm.

“Kennedy, for fucks sake!” he barks.

“I don’t need this shit, Kye.  I’ll see you tomorrow or something.  Just let me
go!”

“Never,” he growls, before slamming his mouth down on mine.  This kiss is different to the others that have come before it.  This kiss is raw, angry, needy, apologetic and filled with livid passion.  Our teeth clash, our tongues get tangled and I’m pretty sure my lips are bruised in the most delicious way.  I grip his hair in a frenzy, tugging him further into me, but wishing I had the willpower to push him away. 

He rips away suddenly, then grabs my hand and tugs me into a nearby shed.  Bales of hay crowd the room, but Kye pushes one off and tears off his shirt before laying it down on one.  Then he turns back to me.  He is panting, a feral look clouds his eyes.  His jaw is taut and his entire body is held tight.  He has never looked sexier.  It feels as if he is tempting my
soul
and I can’t work out the pivotal moment where our connection became more than physical and emotional.  When did it move to that deeper level?  Or was it always there and I was too blind to see it?  Before I have a chance to ponder my questions, he stalks the two steps to me and grabs my waist.  Then I’m flying through the air with a shriek.  I land on the soft bales of straw and then he is on top of me.