Must Love Cowboys (16 page)

I wanted to be fucked—hard and fast and deep—by this man and this man only. But could I say it? Or should I simply make it impossible for him to do anything else?

“Am I really?” I whispered. “What else should I do? What makes you crazy?”

“You do,” he replied. “
You
make me crazy. I never thought it could happen to me. But from the first moment I laid eyes on you…” Another kiss dipped lower, and suddenly a button came undone. And another and another… “I thought I could stand back and let Dean have you, but I couldn't do it. Just…couldn't.”

One swipe of his tongue over my nipple sent me soaring. Every sensation was amplified—the touch, the sights, the sounds. Wyatt's hands left a fiery trail as he slid them down my sides and under the waistband of my pajamas. Skimming my hips, he pushed my pants to my thighs. My body tingled as though his touch had exposed raw nerve endings. Cool air ruffled the curls between my legs.

His jeans went next, along with his briefs. It didn't matter how; all I cared about was that he was naked. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against my stomach, leaving a trail of slick moisture as he moved downward, kissing his way from my lips to my breasts. Nudging my legs apart with his knee, he hesitated, his cockhead poised at my entrance, waiting.

For what? Permission?

“Go ahead, Wyatt,” I urged. “Make me scream.”

The first plunge did it, invading me with a shocking, exhilarating force. Ignoring the brief pain as my hymen gave way, I sucked in a breath and grabbed his shoulders, anticipating the next wave of incredible delight. Thrust after thrust stretched and stimulated as stars came and went behind my shuttered eyes. My moans were real and insuppressible; I could neither fake nor stop them—or even stifle the sounds. He went on and on—pulsing, pounding, penetrating.

I opened my eyes to find his gaze riveted to my face, his expression fierce and exultant, yet tender, perhaps even vulnerable. I'd never seen such a jumble of emotions before, but the one thing I didn't see was regret. Nor could he have seen it in my eyes because I had no regrets. None.

I was well aware that no barrier stood between us, and that the result of such an omission might well be a baby I would have to carry for nine months and then look after for the next eighteen years. I accepted the risk as well as the responsibility. Whether he felt the same remained to be seen.

His pace slowed to a heavy thud, the smack of our bodies occurring less often, but with no less enjoyment. My eyes rolled back in my head and were drifting shut when he spoke.

“I didn't have a condom.”

He hadn't said he'd forgotten to put it on or asked if he needed one. He'd been as unprepared as I was. “I noticed that.”

“Does it matter?”

I caught myself before saying the first word that came to mind, opting for the second and far more responsible reply. “Probably.”

He nodded. His speed didn't change; only the force and depth of his thrusts increased. Three thrilling strokes later, I reached a euphoric plateau and hung there, suspended in space, delirious with joy.

“Sorry.” With what could've been a gasp or a sob, he withdrew.

The absence of his body inside mine was such a tremendous loss; I barely felt the spurt of semen on the back of my thigh.

I never wanted to feel either of those things again. Unless Dean was willing to give up his stash of condoms—and I had no intention of asking for them—I really needed to go to the store. It was either that or risk getting pregnant.

Abstinence was not an option.

Despite having just been nailed by Wyatt McCabe, I was already anxious to do it again—immediately, if not sooner.

I say “nailed” because I couldn't think of any other word that accurately described the experience, and even that one came up short. I couldn't say we'd made love, because to the best of my recollection, love hadn't been mentioned, no matter how much I suspected—or hoped—it would eventually be brought into play.

For the moment, I was more stunned than anything, and I had absolutely no idea what to say. Being a man of few words, I doubted Wyatt would start spewing poetry, or whatever it was men did in the wake of mind-blowing sex.

Unless it hadn't been as mind-blowing for him. If it wasn't, I really didn't want to know.

But he did say I made him crazy, and I was pretty sure that was a good thing. Of course, now that we'd done the deed, he might not be crazy anymore. Perhaps he'd been cured.

Hmm…
Clearly, I was thinking too much. Reminding myself that actions did, after all, speak louder than words, I turned on my side to give him more room to lie down, hoping he would take the hint.

He did.

God bless him.

As much as I hoped he would kiss me again, I knew I needed to be the one to initiate it. I touched his cheek with a gentle caress, then skimmed my fingertips through the hair at his temple. Reaching around to cup the nape of his neck, I pulled him closer. Had I ever done that to Dean? I honestly couldn't remember. But I knew for a fact I'd never kissed Wyatt first. Until now.

The kiss we shared in the aftermath of sex was no less satisfying than those that preceded it. But the tone had changed somehow, becoming sweeter, more poignant. I didn't know what to make of that, although it didn't strike me as standard fuck-buddy stuff.

Knowing so little about him was frustrating when I wanted to know everything. Why he was so touchy about certain subjects. Why he was working on a ranch instead of in a fire station. Why he'd never thought “this”—whatever it was—would happen to him. Why the sexiest man I'd ever met wasn't already taken. Why it scared me to think I might not be able to keep him.

Breaking off the kiss, I drew back, drinking in the sight of him. Moonlight twinkled in his eyes, highlighting the sharp planes of his nose, the arch of his brow, and the sensuous fullness of his lips. I'd never seen a stronger, more handsome face.

“What're you lookin' at?” he asked.

“You,” I replied, tracing his uniquely shaped eyebrows with a fingertip. “Just you.”

A tiny smile dimpled one cheek. “Like what you see?”

“Very much.”

He acknowledged the compliment with a self-conscious clearing of his throat. “Never figured I'd get this lucky, especially after you left the mess hall in such a hurry.”

“I
was
feeling kinda picked on.”

“Sorry about that. We don't know how to behave around a woman like you.” His smile became a grin that creased the corners of his eyes. “Or as Dean once put it, a gorgeous blond.”

I doubted Dean would put it quite like that since I'd called off our no-strings deal. “What's he calling me now? A two-timing bitch?”

“If he did, Nick and Sonny would pound him into the dirt and Bull and Joe would finish him off.”

“Why on earth would they do that?”

Wyatt's sudden burst of laughter made him look so boyishly handsome, I barely recognized him as the man who'd been so brusque with me when I first arrived. “In case you haven't noticed, you're pretty popular with all the guys. Bull's even talking about nominating you for sainthood in that crazy religion of his—patron saint of cowboys or some such bullshit.”

I gaped at him for the space of about three heartbeats. “He must've really liked that cobbler.”

“Come on now, Tina. It's more than the food, and you know it.”

Actually, I didn't—unless I'd passed through some sort of transformational portal during the drive from Louisville. “I've never known any guys to be that”—I hesitated, searching for the right word—“fond of me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe that's because you never gave them the chance. I'm guessing your grandpa was pretty
fond
of you.”

I wasn't convinced. “Yes, but he was family, and I used to cook for him too.”

“Whatever. None of that matters right now anyway.” Leaning forward, he kissed me again, effectively putting an end to the discussion. “Guess I'd better get going or neither one of us will get any sleep tonight.”

He was right, of course. For one thing, the bed wasn't big enough for two people. For another, Wyatt's kisses weren't exactly conducive to sleep, nor was having his shockingly male body within arm's reach. If we ever did find ourselves in a larger bed, actually sleeping with him would take some getting used to.

I would also have to get used to seeing him naked. At the moment, however, watching him climb out of bed and bend over to snatch his clothes from the floor was an event in itself. Being a spectator while he pulled on his T-shirt and briefs was more erotic than I ever would have imagined.

With another kiss and a quick “'Night, darlin',” he headed for the door.

“Good night—” I stopped short as I found myself on the horns of a new dilemma. What on earth should I call him? Sweetie? Honey? Cupcake? None of those seemed to fit. For now, his name would have to suffice. “Wyatt. Sleep well.”

As he closed the door behind him, I glanced at the clock, wincing at the late hour. With so little left of the night, falling asleep quickly was advisable. Unfortunately, with all the food for thought he'd given me, my brain refused to shut down.

Sainthood, huh? I didn't want to be a saint. Following that first kiss with Dean, I'd wanted to be bad. I hadn't quite made it to the finish line, but my shyness had dissipated considerably, enabling me to say and do things I might not have had the nerve to do otherwise. The question now was, could I be bad with Wyatt?

I was still trying to decide whether I'd already done that when my alarm went off.

Time to make the biscuits.

At least, I thought that was what I was supposed to do that day. To be perfectly honest, I was a little fuzzy on exactly which day it was.

Pancakes yesterday meant biscuits and sausage gravy today. The menu seemed a bit lacking in vitamins, so I figured I'd chop up some fruit for a salad.

Have to keep my cowboys healthy.

If I didn't die from lack of sleep first. Blinking against the sunlight already streaming in through the window, I sat up, feeling around for my slippers. It occurred to me that without Wyatt in my bed as proof, I might've dreamed it all—even that first trip to the bathroom after he left. Having heard a few horror stories about “honeymoon” bladder infections from my friends, I'd had sense enough to get up and empty my bladder. My torn hymen had stung a bit at the time, but at the moment, I suspected I would have more trouble walking than peeing.

Perhaps I hadn't dreamed it after all.

I glanced at Ophelia. “Think I ought to do some stretching exercises before breakfast?”

My spayed and presumably virgin dog replied with a noncommittal yawn before strolling over for her morning dose of affection.

“Guess not.” I ruffled her ears. “You're such a brave girl. You would've gone out with Wyatt and caught the bogeyman last night if I'd let you. Wouldn't you, Lia?”

Her response was a soft whine that I took for a yes, but which probably only meant she needed to go out
right now
. Staggering to my feet, I stumbled to the door and opened it. “Watch out for rattlesnakes,” I advised as she trotted past me. Closing the door, I shivered from the morning chill. I still hadn't come to terms with the Wyoming weather. Back home in Louisville, Derby week was about to commence. Horse races were being run, tulips were in bloom, and mint juleps were the drink of choice. Although Derby Day was occasionally wet and chilly, the first Saturday in May usually meant warmer temperatures.

Not so in Wyoming. The guys had built a fire in the mess hall stove every night since my arrival, and if there were any tulips planted around the bunkhouse, they certainly weren't blooming. With plenty of blankets on my bed, I hadn't been cold, but the thought of snuggling up with a nice, warm cowboy had a definite appeal. If I was going to stay forever, as Sonny had suggested, I would have to look into getting a bigger bed so Wyatt could stay all night.

But first, I had to go shopping for condoms.

Imagine that.

I'd already pulled on jeans and a sweater when Ophelia scratched at the door. After letting her in, I stepped out onto the porch and peered up at the hill to the east. At the moment, anyone hiding out up there would be rendered invisible by the blinding glare of the sun.

Shaking off the creepy feeling of being watched, I went into the kitchen and put the coffee on.

* * *

Despite downing two cups of coffee that was strong enough to lift weights, I could barely keep my eyes open at the breakfast table. Wyatt, on the other hand, was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as a young squirrel.

Bad analogy. He's more like a—oh, bloody hell, I don't know.

I needed that tequila, and I needed it now. As soon as the guys headed out for the day, I was downing a shot and taking a nap. Then I realized I hadn't done my “day ahead” preparation for lunch. My brain was so fried, I couldn't think of a single thing to fix.

“Don't suppose you all would mind giving me some lunch ideas, would you?”

“Just throw together some sandwiches,” Nick replied. “I'll help you.”

I squinted at him, wondering how much he knew about Wyatt's activities after the search for the bad guys.

Or was “outlaws” a better word?

Wyatt McCabe and his trusty sidekick, Nick Reno, searched the premises to no avail. The outlaws remain at large.
They could have been characters in an old Western. Wyatt would be the sheriff and Nick could be his deputy.

My God, I need sleep.

“Sounds good.” Yawning, I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. I knew there was cheese and lunch meat somewhere, probably in the fridge.

Yeah. That's it. The fridge. And bread. We definitely have bread.

“There's plenty of fruit salad left,” Bull said. “We'll take that with us.”

I nodded. I must've fallen asleep at some point during the preparations because by the time my mind cleared, I'd chopped up every apple, orange, grape, and strawberry in sight. It was a wonder I hadn't lost a finger. For the edible nature of the biscuits and gravy, I could only credit divine intervention.

At least, I assumed it had been edible. There wasn't any gravy left and only a few crumbs marked the plate where the biscuits had been.

Not even enough to send to the lab for testing if someone gets sick.

That someone would probably be me. I already had a dull sort of stomachache. Probably from the vigorous sex. Apparently sex with Wyatt and the subsequent lack of sleep weren't good for my mental or physical health. I wondered how he would react if I were to tell him never to visit my bedroom again.

No. I wasn't
that
messed up. I would get used to it eventually, and if the heated looks Wyatt was giving me over the breakfast table were any indication, he intended to give me plenty of practice.

“I, um, need to go to the store,” I said during a momentary break in the chatter. “We're out of…stuff.”

Dusty seemed oblivious to the nuances of the conversation, the light I'd seen on the hillside during the night having been so thoroughly discussed, no one had much chance to speculate on what might've happened afterward. “Yeah. Angela usually goes shopping on Fridays. We kinda missed that this week. One of the guys can go with you if you need help.”

I nodded, then waited to see who would volunteer.

No one said a word.

Dean was bound to be a little miffed with me. Wyatt probably didn't want to draw attention to the fact that we had become an item. I was pretty sure that Joe, being the foreman, couldn't be spared from duty. Bull had yet to mention the possibility of my sainthood, but being his sole companion for several hours might bring it to the fore. Nick and Sonny had probably never been grocery shopping in their lives.

I felt like I had the night before when I'd left the mess hall so abruptly. I wanted to curl up and disappear, or get on the road and head for home. This thing with Wyatt wasn't going to be my happily ever after. I was stupid to even think it. People's lives didn't change that much in only a few days.

“I can go by myself. You all have enough to do. Guess I'd better get started on lunch.” I didn't give them the chance to make another offer. I rose from my chair and headed for the kitchen. Snatching up a loaf of bread, I yanked off the twist tie and began laying out slices in a row across the counter. Filling their stomachs was the only thing I was good for. That and the occasional fuck. Not being loved. No one had ever said anything about love.

I slapped together the sandwiches and had them packed up and ready to go before anyone bothered to carry their empty plates into the kitchen. Did they take Sundays off? Probably not. Livestock had to be fed no matter what day it was. Maybe their dishwashing rotation didn't include Sundays. That was fine with me. I was nothing but a drudge anyway. I could do it myself. I didn't need help. I didn't need anyone.

I glanced at Ophelia, who was looking up at me as though hoping I would drop a tasty morsel at any moment.

Even my dog only wants food.

Just to prove my point, I tossed her a piece of roast beef, which she gobbled up in seconds.

“See? That's all anyone wants from me.” I dashed angry tears from my eyes. Oh, yes. I was hot stuff when Calvin was in the hospital and the guys were hungry. They couldn't fool me. They were only buttering me up so I wouldn't leave before he came home.