Reckless for Cowboy (9 page)

I consider his words. “Where would I stay?” I ask slowly.

“Where do you think?”

*~*~*

I call Tom and he’s none too pleased about me taking a night off on the last weekend of Stampede. But, what’s he going to do? Fire me? I only have one day left.

We eat an early dinner of barbequed steak, corn on the cob, beans and Caesar salad. Cooper won’t let me do anything to help and insists I rest despite my many protests. Although the meal is delicious, I don’t have much of an appetite and I can’t figure out if it’s because I’ve already fulfilled my calorie quota for the day or if it’s the adrenaline in my system from riding a bee-stung horse.

The fact that all I can think about is Cooper—Cooper’s hands, Cooper’s mouth, his tongue and various other body parts, tells me that my lack of appetite is probably caused by the man sitting across the table from me.

“Stop looking at me like that, Brooke.”

“Like what?” I ask innocently.

Using his fork, he points a piece of meat at me. “Like that. Like you want to rip my clothes off. You’re too injured to mess around.”

“I’m fine.”

He waits until he’s done chewing before answering. “You didn’t see yourself. You looked like a rag doll on Sugar’s back.”

I tentatively move my neck around. It’s definitely stiff but I don’t say anything. However,
Super Cooper
, with his uncanny abilities of perception, must have seen some indication of pain on my face because he says, “See?”

“See nothing.” I wave my hand dismissively. “So I’m a little sore. I think sex would help.”

“Brooke.” The way he says my name all deep and exasperated, gives me the tingles. It doesn’t escape me that the tables have turned. That I’m the one wanting sex and he’s the one who’s saying ‘no’.

I sigh with great exaggeration and say, “What are we going to do for the rest of the night? It’s only eight o’clock.”

“We could watch a movie, play a game.”

“I know a game,” I say brightly. “It’s called,
How Many Times Can Cooper Make Brooke Come
? It’s really fun.”

Cooper laughs and I love the sound. But apparently I haven’t swayed him because he stands and starts to gather up the plates. “Denny was right,” he says. “Underneath that sweet exterior, you are nasty.”

“Yep.” I get up and approach him from behind, ignoring my stiffening muscles. He’s standing at the sink, running the water for dishes. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my chest into his back. “If I recall correctly, you like your women nasty.”

He turns and with a smile of resignation, he says, “Only you, sweetheart.” He kisses me but it’s way too gentle for what I need. Way too chaste for what I want.

I sigh again but he seems oblivious to my subtle hints. He is one tough cookie! “Fine,” I say when he turns back to the sink. “I think I’ll go take a bath. The heat will help. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I don’t mind. As long as I can watch.”

“Dirty boy.”

He glances over his shoulder. He says one thing…“I don’t want you passing out in the tub.” But his eyes say something else altogether.

“Mmm. Right.”

“It’s the truth.”

I don’t believe him because he leaves half the dirty dishes unwashed, takes me by the hand and leads me down the hall and through his bedroom where I happen to notice a king-sized bed covered in an old-fashioned style quilt. One wall is floor to ceiling windows with a view of the distant mountains, and the other wall is made up of overstuffed bookshelves. The ensuite is big, with an enormous soaker tub—nice—a western view—very nice—two mismatched blue towels, a plain white medicine cabinet, a razor and a toothbrush upright in a glass. No frills. Definitely a man’s bathroom. He turns on the faucet and says. “I’ll see if I can find some bubbles, then I’ll help you undress.”

Chapter Eight

T
he warm scent of vanilla fills the room. Cooper steps closer and starts to undo my shirt.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’d hate for you to strain yourself.”

“Mmmm.”

He slides my shirt off my shoulders and leaves my bra. Kneeling in front of me, he unsnaps my jeans. He tugs them over my hips and down my legs. I wriggle my pelvis to help and then raise one foot and then the other so he can pull them off.

From where he’s kneeling on the floor, he looks up and I’m pleased to see how dark his eyes are. Maybe he hasn’t done anything inappropriate, but he sure is thinking about it. He stands up, facing me, just looking at me. Breathing slowly. Eventually, he reaches around my back, unsnapping my bra. With a flick of his fingers, the straps fall off my shoulders and my bra slithers to the ground. He’s chewing on his lower lip as he looks at me, never touching, only looking.

All I’ve got left on are my panties. He takes a step closer so the front of his shirt brushes the tips of my nipples. I can hear him breathing. Or maybe it’s me. While staring directly into my eyes, he moves his hands to my hips and pushes my panties down. Once clearing my hip bones, they fall and I step out of them.

“Get into the tub,” he says. “I’ll wash you.”

Oh my.

I step into the wonderfully foamy water. It’s a little too warm but after settling myself in the bottom, I quickly get used to it. Cooper kneels beside the tub and takes his shirt off.

“Are you coming in?” I ask hopefully.

“No. But this way my shirt doesn’t get wet.”

It’s completely unfair that he should be out there—bare chested and delicious—and I should be in here. Despite my best attempts to convince him otherwise, the man seems to be made of steel. I decide to give up trying to coerce him and instead just enjoy the feel of the warm, soapy sponge moving over me. He washes my back and then my front. His touch is sensual as opposed to sexual and my tense muscles begin to relax under his care. It’s only when he starts to wash between my legs that I squirm.

He hands me the sponge. “Here you do it.”

I look at him. “It’s okay. You were doing a wonderful job.”

“No. I want to watch.”

I take the sponge and squirt more soap on it. Then I shift above the level of the water and start to wash.

“Brooke?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“I want to watch you masturbate.”

I drop the sponge. “What?”

“You do masturbate, don’t you?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Do you do it in the tub?”

“Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

“Coop, I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“It feels weird.”

“Try anyway.”

I slide under water and fit my hand between my legs. As expected, his words have aroused me. There’s a slickness between my folds that isn’t because of soap or water.

“I can’t see. Tell me what you’re doing.”

I close my eyes, because his gaze is too distracting. “I’m using my index finger to test how aroused I am.”

“Are you aroused?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re alone, what do you do to become aroused?”

“I use my imagination.”

“What do you think about?”

“Guys…mostly.” I smile because his grunt makes it sound like my answer took him a little by surprise.

“Who are you thinking about now?”

“This guy I know.”

“What does he look like?”

“Dark hair. Dark eyes. Cocky smile.”

“Sounds like a jerk.”

“He is.”

Cooper’s laughs quietly. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m playing with my clit.”

“How does it feel?” His voice is huskier than before.

“Nice. Really nice.”

“Whose hand is it? Yours or the guy’s?”

“Neither. It’s his tongue.”

He makes a lovely little grunting sound and then, “Do you like it when he tongue fucks you?”

I gasp at his choice of words. “Yes.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I like when he sucks on my clit.” I groan because I’m pinching myself down there in simulation of our fantasy. “I like when he flicks his tongue back and forth across it.” I mimic the movement with the tip of my finger.

“Do you like being penetrated?”

“Oh yes.”

“Is he penetrating you now?”

I slide two fingers inside and lift my hips in answer.

“How does it feel?”

“So good.”

“Does he know where your G-spot is?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Find it. Show him.”

I press my fingers up against my inner wall and suck in a breath when a jolt of pleasure takes me by surprise.

“Tell me he found it.”

“Oh God, he found it.”

“Tell him to pulse his fingers against it.”

I do as he says and I can’t believe I’ve never done this to myself before. How is it possible that he knows my body better than I do?

“Open your eyes, Brooke.”

I open my eyes and gasp at the vision of Cooper sitting on the edge of the tub, his jeans open, his hand sliding up and down his erection.

“Do you know what I’m thinking about?” his voice is thick and full of passion. “There’s this woman I know. She’s got the cleanest mouth around. I love that about her.” He stares at me while he continues to jerk off. “But when I’m alone with her, all I can think about is how dirty her mouth is.”

“Oh?”

“You should hear her shout my name. Fucking dirty.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Every little moan, every little cry.”

“You like it?” My voice is breathless.

“Mmmm. But the best?” His lids slide lower. “The best is when she wraps that dirty little mouth around me here.” He opens his palm, showing me his cock. “Goddamn she can take me deep.”

I have yet to do it, but right now, that’s all I want. I want to run my tongue along his length I want to find a sensitive spot, just below the head of his penis and suck it. I want to show him how deep I can take him.

“But even better than that,” Cooper whispers, his eyes closed now as his hand speeds up. “Is when she begs me to fuck her.”

Oh!

I close my eyes. I’m sure the speed of my hand beneath the water matches the speed of his hand on his cock. I hear movement outside the tub and when I open my eyes, Cooper’s removed his jeans and is climbing in behind me. He pulls me into his lap so I’m practically sitting on his erection. I move my hips against him but he takes my hand and places it back between my legs.

“Keep going,” he whispers. Then he reaches for the handheld shower and turns it on. Finding the right temperature, he turns it on to the strongest massage mode. “Lean back into me.”

I do. He feels so good. So warm. So wet.

“Take this.” He hands me the handheld. “Finish.”

Guiding my hand back between my legs, I convulse the second the water hits my clit.

“That’s it. Show me what you like.” His other hand is on my breast and he’s whispering in my ear. “Does that feel good Brooke?”

“Yes,” I manage to say.

His hand moves off the handle of the showerhead and he fondles me between the rush of water. I can’t keep my body from jerking from the stimulation.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Mmm.” I pant. My hips lift toward his hand, the spray.

“I want to feel you come.” His slides his hand under my bottom from behind, slips his fingers inside me. He rotates them pressing my inner walls until I gasp. He’s found it.

“Oh fuck, Brooke. You like that.”

I can’t speak. Only moan. He pulses his fingers quickly. They’re so strong. It feels so good. It’s too much. It’s just enough. The pressure builds in my chest and between my legs. I rupture like a burst dam. Two opposing waves of bliss hurtle toward each other, clashing together in my abdomen. I cry out with the most ecstatic pleasure I’ve ever felt.

“Oh baby!”

His fingers feel so good, almost as good as his cock. But not quite. I rub myself against him, loving the feel of his arousal pressed up behind me. Wanting him, needing him—all of him—inside me.

“Whoa,” Cooper says, holding me tight, keeping me from moving. “You’re killing me right now.”

“Coop?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you. Please.”

“Shh,” he says, kissing my jaw, his hand kneading the flesh of my inner thigh.

I’m so overcome, I drop the handheld and it creates a little fountain in the middle of the tub.

“Goddamn I love watching you lose it,” he whispers right next to my ear.

Goddamn, I love losing it with him. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. My emotions are so raw, my chest aches and out of nowhere, I start to sob. I have no clue why I’m doing this, but as hard as I try, I can’t stop. “Oh God.” I sniff. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

“It’s just the release after what happened today.” He strokes my damp hair, holding me tight. “It’s okay, Brooke. You’re okay.” Cooper holds me for a little while longer until I get my emotions under control. Then he eases out from behind me and helps me out of the tub. I can’t help noticing he’s still sporting an erection.

He wraps me in a towel and then dries himself before leading me to his king-sized bed. We crawl under the covers and I think he’s going to make love to me, but he doesn’t. He just pulls me down onto his chest and strokes my bare back beneath the sheet.

After a while, he asks, “Who’s the guy?”

“Huh?”

“The one who abused you. Who is he?”

“Abused me?” I try to lift my head to look at him, but my neck aches too much.

“Some jerk swore at you and treated you like shit. Who was it? Brandt or someone else?”

It takes me a while to answer, to decide whether I want to tell him or not. But there’s something about Cooper that makes it so easy to talk. “Someone else.”

“Who?”

“Wes McFarland.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“He was a steer wrestler back in the 90s. He was also my stepdad.”

“Yeah. I think I remember him.” He plays with the hair at my temple. “You and your mom followed him on the road?”

“No, thank God. When mom married him, I moved in full-time with my dad. I only spent weekends with them—
if
they were around.”

“So he was an asshole?”

I draw circles on Cooper’s chest as I talk. “Oh no. He was charming. Good looking. Outgoing. Everyone loved him.” My hand stops moving. “But he was also a liar and a cheat. And, he hated me.”