How to Kiss a Cowboy (25 page)

He stroked his tongue across the seam of her lips again. When he found the lace border at the top of her panties, he echoed the movement with one finger, running it slowly across and back, across and back. He stroked her lips, stroked her belly, then eased his finger past the elastic on her panties as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Judging by the little kitten sounds she was making, the temperamental mare was in a sweet mood today.

He deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to cradle the back of her head as she rocked her hips, urging him to take his caresses further. But he wanted to go slow, to show his feelings rather than just slaking his lust.

Not that there wasn't quite a bit of lust to slake. His breath shuddered at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he longed to tug down the lace panties and bury himself to the hilt in her warmth. But he needed to take his time. This was for Suze, not for him.

Patiently, gently, he explored her lips and let his tongue dance a slow, sexy tango with hers. It wasn't easy to keep his hands from straying further past the black elastic waistband, but he wanted to make sure she was giving herself willingly. Never again would he take her at a moment of weakness. This had to be something she wanted, and wanted badly.

Not until the kitten noises turned to moans did he lower her head to the pillow and kiss her hot and hard. His lips, his tongue, his hands—they all let her know how he wanted to make love to her, and she answered with an unmistakable yes
.

He paused and rested on his elbows, looking down at her. She was lying beneath him, her hurt leg hanging off the bed, the rest of her sprawled in centerfold-worthy abandon on the rumpled sheets. The tiny top she wore, with its worn patches over each breast, was sexy enough on its own; now it had slipped off one shoulder and over one breast, draping just low enough to reveal a pink, tight nipple. Meanwhile, the hem had bunched up around her waist, revealing the full glory of her flat belly and lacy underwear.

“What are you looking at, cowboy?” Her voice was throaty and low—an invitation to sex no matter what words she said. Although the fact that the words sounded like something a loose woman in the Wild West would say didn't hurt. She must have watched enough old movies with her dad to know how the West was really won.

He rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the bed, and considered her question. What was he looking at?

“Not
what
am I looking at,” he said. “Who.”

He traced the edge of her top, letting his finger ride the wave of one swelling breast before it dipped into the valley in between and rode up the other. She squirmed when he reached her exposed nipple and ran his finger around the areola. He knew his hands were rough and work hardened, so he was gentle as could be.

“With some girls, it's all about the what,” he said, tugging the top up over her breast despite her efforts to writhe out of it again. “What they're wearing, what they're doing. But with you, it's different.”

“What, you don't like what I'm wearing?”

“I love what you're wearing.”

And he could prove it. The zipper of his Wranglers was strained to the breaking point. Taking it slow was starting to hurt, but he wasn't going to screw this up.

“You could wear anything and I'd feel the same way.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. You could wear a baggy old pair of Bubba overalls with a flour sack underneath and I'd still want to take 'em off.”

She laughed, rocking back on the bed, her long hair hanging down as she threw her head back. Once in a while he managed to catch a glimpse of this Suze, the real woman behind all the insecurities and issues, and it was then that he knew, without a doubt, that she belonged with him. He could make her laugh; he could make her see how extraordinary she was. He could make her feel loved.

But would that just be another deceit? Was he in love with Suze, or in lust?

All he knew was that this felt different. Making love to Suze rocked his world out of its orbit, while making love to other women left it spinning undisturbed.

He knew this little pocket of time probably wouldn't last. He'd make some wrong move, and she'd be back on the defensive. It really was like taming a wild horse. He had to somehow earn her trust, and there was no way to hurry that process.

But with horses, the ones that were slowest to trust were the ones that loved you the most in the end. Maybe it was that way with women too.

He didn't know. He'd never found one that didn't trust him before.

“What if I wore dirty Wranglers and a do-rag?” Her tone was teasing, but he felt his stomach sink as he reached up and touched his head. Yep, the bandanna was still in place. He tugged it off and tossed it toward the window.

“That's your dog's fault. He took my hat.”

“You know Dooley's a shameless reprobate. You shouldn't let him get near anything you care about. Is your hat okay?”

“Dunno. He still has it.”

“Oh no!” She jerked as if to leap up from the bed, but he put a finger to her lips and eased her back down.

“No worries,” he said. “If that hat is the price of admission to this right here, Dooley can have it. Hell, he can have my 3X black beaver Stetson if he wants it.”

She nodded, faking a serious expression. “Okay. I'll tell him that.”

Brady laughed, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment before kissing again.

“I really do like you, Brady Caine,” Suze said between kisses. “I really do.”

I'll take that,
he thought.
I'll definitely take that.

“What is it you like about me?” he asked. “You know I'm as shameless as Dooley. So why do you like me?”

“You're a hopeless optimist,” she said. “You believe the best of everybody. Even me.”

“You ought to try it sometime. Believe in yourself.”

“I do. Every time I race,” she said. “I see myself winning, in my head, and it works every time. It's a big part of my strategy.”

“Then you already know how. You just need to apply the same kind of thinking to your life, that's all.”

“You don't get it.” She fell back against the pillows, clearly exhausted. “When I'm racing, I know I can win because it's happened before. But when it comes to everyday life, I just keep on losing. I'm sorry, but it's hard to visualize happiness when you've never really had it.”

“Which is why you deserve it more than anyone I ever knew.” Brady felt almost fierce. “Just wait. Something will change.”

“See?” she said. “You're just a glass-half-full kind of guy.”

He traced a slow circle around her areola, and she sucked in a quick breath.

“Right now,” he said, “my glass is overflowing.”

* * *

Suze couldn't believe this. How had Brady ended up in her bed? If anyone had asked her, she would have sworn it was an accident—but nobody would believe that. How did you get a cowboy off a barn roof and into your bedroom in five minutes flat by accident?

Yell at him, apparently.

It didn't matter. What mattered was the moment. She'd been bored out of her mind for days, and while that wasn't a very good excuse for letting Brady back into her bed, she didn't really care. She was tired of worrying about what she was going to do, how she was going to survive, who would help her. Brady would help her, as long as she was nice to him. And if being nice to him meant satisfying her own naughty needs, who was there to worry about it?

Not her father, who was downstairs watching television in blissful and possibly deliberate ignorance of what was going on in his daughter's bedroom. Not her mother, who was long gone and probably would have approved of Brady anyway. Not Dooley, who was too busy eating Brady's hat to care about anything.

That thought made her chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You,” she said, poking him in the chest. That started a tussle that ended with her top hanging from the bedpost and Brady's shirt on the floor. He'd kicked off his boots too, and the two of them smiled at each other.

“You're way overdressed,” she said.

He looked ruefully down at his Wranglers. “I'm not sure I can get the zipper down.”

“I can help,” she said.

“That'll just make it worse.”

He stood and liberated himself from the Wranglers, then stared at her in motionless silence, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

“You truly are a goddess,” he said.

Suze flushed. “And you've truly lost your mind.”

“Yes, I have.” He stripped off his boxers too, and returned to lie beside her, his erection nudging her hip. “It's a blissful state. And I'm going to try and help you lose yours.”

Her green eyes grew serious as she stroked his hair back from his forehead, scanning his face as if searching for a way to believe him.

“You're so good at being happy,” she whispered. “Show me how.”

Suze looked up at Brady, willing him to kiss her again, to touch her, to make love to her. She wanted him so badly. Not just in a sexual way, although her body was begging for him. She wanted something more. She wanted joy.

He bent and brushed her lips with his, and she smiled under the assault as he deepened the kiss and ran his thumb over one nipple. Her heart lightened and lifted, and she surprised him by laughing.

“I'm not laughing at you,” she said. “I just feel good. I feel great.”

“You
are
great.”

And that was the last thing Brady said before they lost themselves in each other, touching and caressing, stroking and exploring. She remembered, in a flash, why the aftermath of her night with Brady had been so painful. He was so totally focused on her, so dedicated to pleasing her. He looked into her eyes so deeply she felt like he saw the real her, like he knew her better than anyone else ever could. He acted like he loved her, and she had to remind herself, firmly, that it wasn't real. Tomorrow would come, and Brady would be Brady again, careless and free. And she'd be hurt.

“What's wrong?” He was stroking her hair again, looking into her eyes.

“You—I—never mind.” She ran her hand down his belly, over the taut ridges of his muscles, and closed it around his erection. Holding him firmly, she ran her thumb lightly over the top and felt a bead of moisture in response. “Playtime's over, cowboy,” she said. “Let's get to the serious stuff.”

But
it's not serious. He's never serious.
She knew she needed to remind herself of that, but she suddenly wasn't sure why, and in the next moment she couldn't think what it was she had told herself to remember. All she could do was meet Brady's gaze as he held himself above her, his arm muscles tense with the effort and his brown eyes staring deeply into her green ones.

This was serious.

That's what his eyes were telling her. This wasn't just sex; this
meant
something, to him as much as to her. She could feel it in the faint trembling of his arms, and she could see it in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “No regrets in the morning?”

“No regrets ever.”

He slid inside her all at once. It had been so long since she'd made love that it should have hurt, but her body was so ready for him there was no shock, no quick stab of pain. Instead, she felt finally, fully whole, as if a missing part of her had been restored.

He moved above her slowly. Most men—in her limited experience, anyway—threw their heads back and closed their eyes about now, and things got purely physical. But Brady kept his eyes open, looking into hers, and that made the act so intimate she almost shrank away.

Almost.

Because it felt so good, she couldn't stop. She matched Brady's pace, rocking with him, and he held her eyes with his own even when his thrusts grew fast and deep, and the headboard of the bed banged against the wall as if it was pounding out Morse code.

This was wild, crazy sex, but it was more than that—because he never stopped looking at her. There was a connection that never broke—a connection that was far more intimate than the union of their bodies or even the intimacy of his gaze.

It had always been there, she realized. Always, from the first day they'd met.

But she'd think about that later. Right now, she couldn't think about anything but how
good
he felt, how
right
, how
right
, how
right…how…

Stars exploded inside her, and wild seas raged. She felt as if she was lifting off the bed, lifting Brady with her on a wave so strong it would carry both of them away forever. She clung to him, praying he wouldn't leave her, because even as the wave subsided and the tide of emotion started to ebb, she felt so good she was almost afraid.

Afraid she wouldn't ever be sane again. Afraid she'd stay in that transcendent state forever, hovering miles above the earth, having risen so high and felt so much that she could never go back to the everyday world again.

She looked into Brady's eyes, which were still fixed on hers, and she really didn't mind one bit. As long as she could take him with her.

* * *

Brady stroked Suze's hair. He'd decided that was just about his favorite thing to do, besides stroking her body. But even just touching her hair was somehow satisfying. It was endless in its loops and curls, like flames spiraling up from a fire, or waves curling and coiling inward. He picked up a thick lock of gold and kissed it just as she opened her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Sorry!” The word shocked him. He didn't know what she was sorry about, but if she was sorry about anything, then she hadn't understood anything about what had just happened. They'd made love in a cataclysmic, world-shattering, mind-bending way that he'd never experienced—and she was sorry?

“I closed my eyes,” she said. “I broke the connection.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He watched the glow come back to her eyes, and knew he didn't have to answer her with words. The connection was still there. It was unbreakable. They could see it whenever they looked in each other's eyes.

“Oh,” she said simply. “Okay. Good.”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her hair again. “Good.”

She stretched and sighed. Even with the clumsy cast on one leg and the splint on her wrist, she moved with a grace he'd never seen in any other woman. She lay in a slanted ray of late afternoon sunshine and stared out the window at the barn roof and the blue sky.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

“I don't know.” Her gaze slid toward him, and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to leave now?”

He actually did need to leave. He was supposed to go out to a friend's place on the reservation and teach some kids to ride. But he wasn't about to walk out on Suze and let her think he didn't care. Not this time. Not if the president of the United States was waiting on him.

“I won't leave unless you want me to.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, over and over. “I guess you'll have to go eventually.”

“Eventually. You tell me when.”

She turned her head and graced him with a smile that glowed. “You have something to do, don't you?”

He leaned back against her pillows, resting his head on his crossed arms. “Nothing more important than you.”

“Well, I have something to do,” she said.

“What's that?”

“Take a nap.” She rolled over, resting her head on his shoulder, and stared at the ceiling. “You wore me out.”

He looked down at her, thinking he wished he could stay forever, just like this, with her leaning on him, trusting him. “You want me to stay with you?”

“What, and watch me sleep? That would be creepy.”

He laughed. “I was thinking I could use a nap too, but I'm supposed to be over at a friend's house, helping his kids learn to ride.”

“Oh, that's right,” she said. “You have friends.”

“They'll be your friends too.”

“I hope so.” She thought a moment. “I've been living my life the wrong way. So focused on winning I didn't have time to live.”

“I think it has something to do with your mother. Maybe she's with you when you ride. When you win.”

This time she looked at him a long time, her expression changing from trepidation to wonder.

“Talk about creepy. You know me well.”

“It's not hard to figure out. But I think she's with you all the time, win or lose.”

She stretched and patted down a yawn. “You'd better go. Don't leave those kids waiting.” She smiled. “I bet they're excited, learning to ride from the great Brady Caine.”

“I'm not so great.”

“You are to me.”

She tilted her head and he kissed her, a chaste, gentle kiss. He stood and grabbed his clothes, dressing as quickly as he'd undressed. When he finished, she had her eyes closed. He was pretty sure she was asleep, but he bent over the bed and kissed her good-bye anyway.

She opened one eye and gave him a drowsy look. “Bye, Brady,” she said.

She sounded sad. He knew she probably was wondering if he'd meant anything he'd said. The notion that she didn't trust him ate at him, and he wondered how to put her fears to rest.

“Suze?” he said. “You know that connection? The one you thought you broke?”

She nodded, looking up at him, so open and trusting it dang near broke his heart.

“It'll never be broken,” he said. “We'll always be connected, you and I. I don't know what it is, but we're two of a kind. Maybe we're both a little lost, I don't know.”

“I don't know either.” She blinked sleepily. “But for a little while there, I felt found.”