Pressure Point (Rhinestone Cowgirls Book 3) (17 page)

He rolled from the bed and she got an amazing view of tight, white bottom. She watched him move and her heart beat faster. He bent to retrieve his boxers from the floor and a moan escaped her throat. If he heard, he didn’t act like he did. He dragged on the polka dotted cotton and the sight was gone. Damn!

He turned and she quickly jerked her gaze up to meet his. One corner of his delectable mouth curled into a knowing smile. What could he expect? What person would miss out on a spectacular view of a naked ass? Again, she had nothing to apologize for.

He snaked his hand down the front of his boxers and adjusted himself, and every cell on her body quavered. He saluted the ceiling again…and that was the effect of her staring? Her intimate spot turned moist. He could do that to her without even a touch. It was amazing and yet utterly wrong. This man had just turned her inside out and she wanted more, but knew once more wouldn’t be enough. She had to end it, cold turkey.

Relax and stay focused.

“Are you sure sweetheart?” His eyes held mischief.

No, I’m not.
“Yes, I’m sure. See you at breakfast.” The words hurt to even voice.

He grabbed his jeans and said, “If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.” He winked and left.

She dropped back onto the mattress and moaned, willing her body to relax.

What had she gotten herself into? She needed to go home as soon as possible. Staying here under one roof with Mr. Charmpants just wouldn’t do. He knew her Achilles tendon and she’d guess he wasn’t too bashful to pull out all the stops. The more time she spent with him, the harder it would be to walk away.

A man like Nash wouldn’t want her. They had great chemistry, yes, but a future, no. She wasn’t like Jewels and Pearl. She walked the beat of her own drum and men found her independence hard to handle.

Nash knew she wasn’t interested in a relationship. At least he said he understood.

Unfortunately, there was a sliver if doubt itching for acknowledgment.

She liked Nash. A lot. Who could resist liking him? He had a load of kindness and a wicked charm. And while lying in his arms, suffering from a post-coital high, she’d recognized how enjoyable it could be lying close to someone, his arm tucked around her and nothing but the two of them in a bubble.

She was finding problems where there were none. She wasn’t Nash’s type, her body maybe, but not the person inside. He realized that, she was certain.

Getting out of bed, dropping the sheet, she found her panties, slid them on and grabbed a large fitting T-shirt from her suitcase. She spotted black material on the floor next to the bed and she immediately realized it was Nash’s T-shirt. Had he left it on purpose?

She glanced at the closed door. She could take it to him, but no, it could wait until morning.

Bringing the soft, worn material to her nose, she inhaled deeply. His scent lingered and found it very soothing to her senses. She loved the way he smelled. Clean, with a trace of leather. Rugged and a hint of spice that tickled her nostrils.

With a smile of intention, she dragged the large shirt over her head and reveled in the warm material on her naked breasts. Her nipples pebbled and her stomach twirled. This was a bit naughty and she didn’t care.

Climbing back into bed, she pulled the blanket up to her neck and snuggled her head on the pillow where Nash’s head had been and giggled. She hadn’t acted this way since high school when she’d had her first crush. Donnie Mansfield had given her his football jersey and she’d thought she was on top of the world. And now ol’ Donnie was living on a farm with his wife, five kids and raising free-range chickens, organic fruits and vegetables.

Her thoughts automatically went back to Nash. She was grateful that he’d managed to get Trojan from John’s tight fists. She didn’t even care how he’d done it.

Glancing at the clock, it was only nine P.M..

Scrawny would be doing a great job of taking care of Trojan for her, but she still wondered if the vet came and visited him that evening. She glanced around the room. “Shoot!” She’d left her phone downstairs.

Pushing back the cover, she rolled from the bed and quickly crossed the room, opening the door and peeking down the empty hallway. Sight was clear.

As she walked barefoot on the wooden floor, a chill raced over her bare skin. The temperature had dropped—all about the time Nash left her room. She crossed her arms over her chest and quickly made her way down the stairs and came to a sudden halt in the doorway to the kitchen.

Nash stood at the island, still only wearing boxers, chewing on a piece of steak. Oh. My. God. He looked sexy with his hair ruffled and a smile that could have made her forget she wouldn’t be doing him again.

Caught up in her racing thoughts, she’d almost forgotten that she was wearing his T-shirt, until his warm gaze dropped over her, his grin widening to naughty width. Oh brother. Her skin warmed in embarrassment. “My shirt looks good on you.” His husky voice vibrated her nerve endings.

She swallowed and found her voice. “Hungry?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sex makes me hungry. How about you?”

“No.” her stomach growled as if to prove she was lying. “I only came to get my phone.” She grabbed it from the island. He dug his teeth into another bite of steak. Where did he put all of those calories? He’d eaten two steaks, potato, corn and salad for dinner and here he was, packing more away. And he didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body. If she ate too much she was certain to look like she was three months pregnant.

He worked hard, no doubt.

His head cocked and his gaze dipped from her neck, slowly to her bare toes. She curled them. “Good enough to eat.”

She’d never live this down. “I was cold. That’s why I’m wearing this.” She tugged at the shirt.

“Aren’t the sheets still warm from our lovemaking?”

“No, not at all.” Her voice quaked, much like her seesawing emotions. He could see right through her, she was certain.

“I’m a little cold too. I could come back upstairs and warm you, I promise.” The twinkle in his gaze couldn’t be missed.

Without thought of consequence, she reached for the hem of her shirt, dragged it over her head, instantly cooled. Her nipples tightened and goosebumps popped out on her skin, but she didn’t care. She had enough heat spiraling from her loins that she’d stay warm in a blizzard.

“Now we’re talking.” Nash took a step closer and she held up a hand to stop him. He gave her a questioning look.

“Not so fast, cowboy. You need this more than I do.” She gave the shirt a toss and he caught it against his chest. “Good night.” She turned and walked away, a smile on her lips. Although it hurt like hell to deny herself the pleasure, she did like the look of disappointment that skidded across his features. He wanted her, and somehow, that flattered her. He’d just screwed the hell out of her and she was the source behind his tented—obviously so—boxers. She smiled as she climbed the stairs.

Yes, she might sleep like a baby tonight.

****

Nash dropped the piece of steak to the plate and sighed. He’d suddenly lost his appetite…for food that is. He wanted Em in a bad way.

He couldn’t understand. He’d just made love to her, and instead of the need dulling, it grew a head and was growing like an evil monster.

If she hadn’t thrown him out of her bed, he’d be balls deep in her again, he’d guarantee that.

Nash didn’t consider himself an egotistical man, but he knew when a woman wanted him and, no doubt, Em wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. But she held tight to her protective wall and he wasn’t sure he could drill through the steel.

He’d keep trying because he wasn’t a quitter. He wanted her, for more than just a weekend affair at a cabin.

Hell, he didn’t know where they’d end up, but one night wouldn’t be enough to get her out of his system. A hundred nights probably would only be a beginning.

He brought his beer to his mouth and took a long chug. What did a man have to do to win a girl like Emerald Stone?

It wasn’t money, otherwise she’d still be with dead fish Nazarene. He had a feeling to break down her walls, a man would have to convince her that love didn’t hurt. That he could keep her safe, even when things went bad.

She was well worth the effort. Not because she had a rocking body and tore the sheets up, but for what she carried on the inside. And her smile…wow…took him to a place where he’d never been before.

Finishing off the beer, he tossed it into the trash can and brought the shirt to his nose. “Mmm.” Her scent mingled with his, lingering on the cotton. She left it on purpose, he realized.

Yeah, he’d have to show her he could be trusted.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NASH RUBBED THE layer of beard on his jaw and yawned. He was tired. He’d slept like shit and the coffee hadn’t started working magic in his bloodstream yet. Next time, he’d forget the cream and sugar and go straight for black.

“Something smells fantastic,” Em said as she entered the kitchen.

He dipped his gaze over her. She looked like a ray of sunshine. Her eyes were liquid chocolate as she took a seat on the stool she’d occupied yesterday. Her smile did wonders to his body. He’d warned himself when he got up that he needed to tread carefully. There was a chance he could get hurt here, and no man ever wanted to admit weakness or have a woman crack his heart.

He flipped the bacon in the skillet, then placed the spatula to the side. “A woman who eats a ten ounce steak must like bacon,” he said.

“I love bacon.” Her eyes sparkled. How in the hell did she wake up looking like she’d stepped out of a magazine.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured her a large cup and handed it over. He watched as she dropped in a liberal amount of sugar and cream, and stirred. The spoon clanked against the side of the mug. He drifted his gaze over her again. Damn, he could get used to seeing her first thing in the morning. Hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Red, sleeveless top with a bold number five on front that hugged her nice form breasts. Her shorts rode up her thighs showing a sexy amount of long, toned legs. Even her bare feet were sexy. He knew they were soft and her toenails were painted a bright pink.

Dragging his gaze away, he went back to the skillet of bacon and busily pushed the strips around the pan. When they were teetering on the edge of overdone, he took them out and placed them on paper towels to drain. He laid the plate on the island between them.

She grabbed a slice and bit into it. He watched her lips move and his cock bounced in his jeans. Oh hell no…here we go again. He had lost all control. He was still in the driver’s seat of the plane, but autopilot was on and he wasn’t in control.

He went to the sink and ran his hands under the cold water, splashing some on his face, then drying with a dishtowel. When he turned back, Em watched him with a curious expression. “Bacon good?”

“Delicious.” She smiled.

“How did you sleep?” He tossed the towel on the counter and poured himself another cup of coffee.

“Great. And you?” One thin eyebrow popped up.

“Like shit,” he admitted.

“Oh? The mattress too hard?”

“The mattress was just fine. It was my body that needed to soften.” Instead of looking disgusted, she chuckled and he couldn’t help himself from laughing too. He needed it. All of his irritation and exhaustion seemed to fade as he watched her beautiful smile take on a life of its own.

She tilted her head to the side as she rolled her finger around the rim of the cup. “It must be the fresh air that has your blood flowing freely.”

Was she flirting? “Nothin’ to do with fresh air, sweetheart.” He reached for a piece of bacon, broke it in half and popped one into his mouth. He chewed and gulped the coffee not caring that it burnt all the way down into his stomach.

The area between her eyes scrunched. “I’m glad things aren’t uncomfortable for us this morning.”

He tensed. “Why would they be?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes that happens when two people wake up after a night of…” She seemed to search for the right word, “pleasure.”

He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it referred to as pleasure. But yes, it certainly was a night of pleasure, until you kicked me out of your bedroom.”

“Ok, here comes the awkwardness. Five, four, three, two…”

“No awkwardness. I promise. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He wagged his brows.

Her tongue swept out over her swollen bottom lip. She slipped off the stool and swept around the island. “You cooked. Now I’ll clean. It’s only fair.”

“I can help. I don’t mind drying,” he offered.

Her eyes slanted and he knew it was coming. “You’ve cooked two meals in a row. You deserve to relax. I suggest you take your coffee out on the front porch. There’s an amazing morning view and you might see some wildlife.”