Gentling the Cowboy (11 page)

Leaning forward onto her tiptoes, she put a hand on his shoulder and said yes with a kiss that left them both shaking and gasping for air. A part of Sarah registered the sound of a helicopter nearby, but she was too absorbed by the look in Tony’s eyes to give it more than a passing thought. Sarah had kissed men before, and certainly done more than that with Doug, but she’d never felt wantonly out of control. She’d never experienced a desire for a man that was so strong it made everyone and everything else disappear, with nothing mattering beyond the touch of his lips and the feel of his skin.

A deep male voice pulled them harshly back to earth. “You might want to grab that horse before he runs off again. Guess I don’t have to ask how you lost him the first time.”

Tony straightened with a curse and turned toward a tan-uniform-clad man who, although he looked slightly older than Tony, shared enough of his physical features that Sarah wondered why neither seemed very happy about seeing each other. With a noticeable lack of gratitude in his tone, Tony said, “I appreciate your help today.”
Now leave.
He didn’t have to say the words for his meaning to be clear.

The other man smiled—an action as lacking in warmth as Tony’s words had been. “You’re not going to introduce me?”

When Tony made no move to do so, Sarah took a step away from him and put out her hand to the tall stranger who, no matter what, had come to help her that day. “Sarah Dery.” She noted the silver star on his shirt. Sheriff? Tony had called in the big guns for her. She looked back at him and would have thanked him again, but Tony’s expression was stone cold.

He needs to learn how to relax,
she thought.
That much anger can’t be good for you. Is it wrong that I can think of at least five ways I’d like to try to help him with that and all of them would require privacy?

Releasing her hand, the man said, “Dean Carlton. I’m the local law. You sound like you’re a long way from home. Are you here on vacation?”

Carlton?

Tony stepped in front of her, his aggressive stance a warning in itself. “Like I said, I appreciate you coming by.”

In spite of the fact that the two men looked on the verge of either a yelling match or coming to blows, Sarah felt for both of them. She placed her hand on Tony’s lower back and felt his muscles clench with tension beneath her light touch. She looked back and forth between them and felt a real sadness for whatever had happened that neither could seem to put aside long enough to see the other was hurting.

Dean leaned in and snarled, “One day I won’t.”

Tony shrugged dismissively, an act that appeared to anger the other man more.

Sarah understood their relationship even without knowing the details of it. Something causes a rift between two people, and time and pride only increases it. It may have taken driving hundreds of miles away from her problems, but now she saw them for what they were, and she felt grateful for the clarity she was gaining. It was that growing understanding of herself that made her say, “I appreciate your help, Dean. Maybe we could all have dinner together tomorrow night as a thank you to everyone who dropped everything to help me find Scooter.”

Two shocked Texans turned to stare down at her as if she’d suggested they both wear dresses and do a jig.

“No—” Tony said.

“That’s a mighty kind offer,” Dean said at the same time and turned to challenge Tony. “Better watch out, Tony, or your little lady will teach you manners.” He tipped his hat to Sarah and said, “I’m tempted to accept just to see if you could make the impossible happen.”

“Get the hell off my property,” Tony grated.

“With pleasure,” Dean answered and strode back to his helicopter.

Watching him go, Sarah asked, “Is Dean your brother?”

Tony turned his full attention back to Sarah, and she took an instinctive step back from the intensity of it. He pushed a hand beneath her hair and hauled her to him. His hand closed on her behind and lifted her onto her tiptoes against him. “I don’t want to talk about him. In fact, what I want has nothing to do with talking, but you need to understand something. I’m not one of those city boys who will do what you ask just because you bat those sexy brown eyes. You stay here, you stay on my terms, not yours.”

Sarah gulped. Normally she would have said there was nothing sexy about a domineering man, but her panties were soaked with evidence to the contrary.
Domineer me all the way to the bedroom, cowboy.
She rubbed herself against his already bulging erection.
Unless this location would work for you, and then I’m totally okay with that option, too.

His mouth had just descended to claim hers when David’s voice announced, “Never mind, boys, it looks like they found the horse. Let’s go.” A small commotion was followed by the restarting of trucks and the sound of horses and vehicles departing.

Sarah groaned.

What does a woman have to do to get a moment alone with Tony on this ranch?

Hopefully we’ll need more than a moment.

She laughed at the thought, and once she started she couldn’t stop. Maybe it was a release after the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on. Maybe it was temporary insanity due to excess sexual frustration. Whatever it was, she hid her forehead in Tony’s chest and gave in to a fit of laughter. She laughed until tears were running down her face, then settled back onto her heels to wipe a hand across her wet cheeks.

When she peered up, Tony was glowering down at her again. Sarah raised a hand and touched one of his cheeks gently.

He inhaled sharply and covered her hand with one of his own. Then he turned away, took her horse by the reins, and handed them to her. “Might as well head back.”

Sarah swung herself up onto her horse and waited for him to join her on his own. As they rode side by side back into the open field, Sarah couldn’t help but say, “If you want, you can threaten me again when we get back to your house. I thought it was really hot.”

A slight flush spread up his neck and across his cheeks before he turned his face away, and they rode again in silence.

Which was a good thing, because he missed the huge smile that spread across Sarah’s face.

You might fool everyone else, Tony Carlton, but I’m onto you.

A few hours later, Sarah sat in a swing on Tony’s porch with her notepad and pen on her lap. After helping her check that Scooter was indeed unhurt by his excursion, Tony had announced he had a few things to do that afternoon—alone. David said he’d headed into town.

Not exactly how I thought our return would go.

She smiled as she imagined them galloping to the porch, both coming to a sliding stop just in time. He’d jump down, pull her from Scooter, toss her over his shoulder, and, taking the stairs two at a time, whisk her into his bedroom.

Not scowl at me and announce you’ll be back later.

Jerk.

Texas, you are a big fat tease.

What am I supposed to do? Sit here, revving my private engines and wait?

I hate you, Tony Carlton.

I still want to rip off your clothes and kiss every one of those muscles I clung to during the ride, but that doesn’t mean you can dump me at your house like I don’t matter.

I’m going to teach you a little lesson when you get home.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat at the thought.
Anger is sexy.

She whipped open her notebook and turned to the first scene of Ridden Hard. The scene was missing tension, the building passion of push and pull between characters. No wonder the heroine didn’t orgasm.

Sarah closed her eyes and imagined she was in the scene with Tony. She pulled from how she’d felt since she first met him and began to write.

I park at the end of Holt’s driveway and curse the heavy rain that makes it impossible for me to see if his car is there. I should come back later. I should wait for him to invite me over, but he’s all I can think about. Right. Wrong. It doesn’t matter.

I can’t stay away. My Jimmy Choo shoes fall victim to the mud, but I don’t care. I step out of them and place them beside the door. The rain has plastered my white cotton dress to my body, the transparency of it only increasing the heat between my thighs.

As soon as he answers the door he’ll instantly see my nipples pushing through the wet material in anticipation of his touch. I won’t have to tell him how eager I am to feel his mouth on them.

I knock once.

No answer.

I knock twice and eagerly push my long, red curls back from my face.

I shiver from the pleasure of knowing that I’ll be in his arms in seconds.

Still no answer.

I try the door and find it unlocked. I step inside, leaving small puddles in his hallway. The clock on the wall ticks away in an otherwise silent house. Five thirty.

He should be home, but he’s not.

I should leave, but I’ve come too far.

I step out of my dress, letting it fall to the floor in a wet heap in the middle of the hall. I walk toward the downstairs bathroom and shed my wet bra and panties along the way, leaving them like a trail of crumbs for him to follow.

And he will follow.

Holt wants me as much as I want him, even though he tries to deny it.

I step into the bathroom I’d once used for a much more innocent purpose, when I’d attended a party there. The shower is just as I remembered it, when I’d pictured the two of us passionately entwined within.

I turn it on and step beneath the hot spray, closing my eyes from the pleasure of it. Even alone, I can feel him with me. I know just how his kiss would feel on my exposed throat. I run my hands over my hard nipples, pinching them lightly and imagining how they would feel between his teeth.

The hot water cascades over my breasts, down my stomach, and tickles the small patch of hair between my thighs. I spread my legs wider, enjoying the warmth of it and imagining how his tongue would feel following the same path.

I run a hand down my side and to my pulsing . . .

Sarah hesitated and sought the right word.
Slit? Vagina? Lips? I can’t write pussy. Can I?

She avoided the decision and wrote:

(insert right word later).

I slip a finger between my lower lips and imagine that it’s his tongue. There is no need to rush when something feels this good. I softly run my finger back and forth, feeling my (clit?) grow beneath my touch.

I use two fingers to spread my lips wider, and a stream of water rushes in and warms me as I imagine his breath would. I put a leg up on one side of the shower so I can open myself more fully to the spray, to my fingers, to him.

I slide my middle finger inside of myself and clench involuntarily. I’m soft, wet, and so ready. I delve deeper, pumping in and out with a rhythm as old as time itself.

I’m fucking myself and it’s good.

Oh, so good.

I circle my clit with my thumb, still pumping as I rub. One finger is no longer enough. I insert another and lean back against the coldness of the shower wall as I picture his (penis? Staff? Cock?) thrusting inside me. The steam of the spray is his hot kiss on every inch of my skin.

I come on my hand, shuddering and gasping for air. Unwilling to end the pleasure, I bring my wet fingers to my mouth and suckle my juices as if they were his. I lick my fingers lovingly, imagining they are his cock. I take them deep within me, deeper than I ever thought I could, and I love how he fills me.

My mouth is his for the taking, and his pleasure is my pleasure.

I clutch one wet breast while I imagine him pushing his hands into my hair so he can hold my head there, insuring his release is welcomed deeply.

I come again, this time claiming his orgasm as my own.

An orgasm he would have had.

Had he been fucking home.

Sarah slammed her notebook shut, feeling pleased with how her writing was changing, and also about the jab she’d written for Tony at the end.

She cocked her head to the side mischievously as an idea came to her that instantly began an inner debate.

I couldn’t.

That would take serious balls, and I’m . . .

See, that’s the problem. If I do what I’ve always done, how can I expect things to be any different than they’ve always been?

With a fortifying deep breath, Sarah stood, opened the door to Tony’s house, and headed upstairs. This time, instead of going to her room, she went to his and placed her notebook on his pillow.

He’d read her notebook earlier when he should have respected her privacy.

It would serve him right to read this.

Back in the hallway, Sarah leaned on Tony’s closed door. She had no idea how he’d react to her latest entry.

But a woman can hope.

Sarah pushed away the door and decided she’d have to find something to distract herself with while she waited for Tony to come home or she’d lose her mind.

Maybe it’s time to call my brother. He’s not going to be happy when he finds out that I’m not at Lucy’s house, but I’ll tell him I needed to stay for research purposes.