Take Me Again (3 page)

Oh God. He remembered
.

A spark sputtered low in her belly. The burn matched the heat flaring across her cheeks. Surely he was just teasing her. Even still, the thought of two men worshipping her body all night long was beyond exciting. It was downright sinful.

"Can't.” She swallowed hard. “Not tonight."

Damn. Damn. Damn
. It was already getting late and she didn't want to disturb her uncle's household. She didn't miss the disappointment on his face as he released her.

"When?"

"Maybe Monday. My weekend is booked solid."

"Monday it is. Give me your number.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in her number as she rattled it off. “I'll call you with the directions to my house.” He caressed her cheek. “Are you up for anything?” There was a spark of devilment in his eyes.

Anything?

"Yes,” slipped from her mouth before she could think twice.

"I promise it will be a night dedicated solely to your pleasure.” He kissed her softly. “Until Monday."

Eyes closed, lips still puckered, she murmured, “Uh-huh.” He tapped her on the nose. Her eyelids rose.

He winked. “Later, baby."

She sighed low and long as she watched him walk away. Later couldn't come anytime too soon.

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A hint of last night's tension hid beneath a cloak of fatigue. Eyes closed, Dolan stretched across his bed, arms extending above his head. A dull twinge slid along his shoulders. Groaning, he grabbed a pillow and placed it over his face to shut out the morning light creeping in through parted curtains. The crisp scent of newly washed sheets filled his nostrils.

What he'd give to lie there and do nothing, but the day was calling to him. He had a full schedule. Not only did he have several appointments scheduled, he had to inoculate Misty Dawn and Taylor Tweeds. Two of several race horses his cousin had inherited through his recent marriage.

Dolan was happy for Cord and Caitlyn in a sort of sadistic way. Their happiness meant he had no chance with the esteemed daughter of a racing mogul, but then again he never did. In reality it wasn't the woman as much as the thought of having someone love him as she did Cord. He wanted a woman like that.

How wimpy did that make him sound?

He tossed the pillow aside and it rolled to the floor. “Great.” Fingers grasping the edge of the sheet, he tore the covers from his naked body. Running a palm over his face, he scooted to the edge of the bed and pushed to his feet. Thoughts of the redhead from last night materialized as he bent to retrieve the pillow. She had been the only ray of sunshine yesterday—and that voice.

Deep. Sexy.

A series of tingles erupted in his cock. He reached down and gave his balls a scratch. Damned if the memory of her didn't make him hard. He could have sworn there was something between them, a connection, when she turned and smiled at him. What he'd give to fall asleep each night listening to the sensual cadence of her voice whispering in his ear.

"Shit. You could have at least gotten her name.” But there hadn't been time. Time was a precious commodity for a foundering horse. Yet in this case Travis Wood had overreacted. Thankfully the mare hadn't digested enough oats or grain to cause her permanent damage. Even still, Dolan had promised the boy he'd stop by this morning.

He padded across the cool marble floor toward the master bathroom. After finishing up at the Wood's last night, Dolan had considered swinging by Jester's, but it had been too late and he had been too tired. The chances that the woman was still there were slim. A prize catch like her wouldn't stay unattached for long. Of course nothing was holding him back from stopping by his friend's house tonight and getting the 411 on Red.

Who knew? Maybe she was the answer to his lonely existence.

Inhaling a ragged breath, he almost choked on his unexpected chuckle. At twenty-eight he had his whole life ahead of him. Pulling the door open, he stepped into the bathroom. It wasn't large, but comfortable. Two sinks, a bathtub, closed-in shower, and of course a commode tucked away behind another door. He passed through it to relieve himself. As he placed his palm against the wall to brace himself, he continued to analyze why the hell he felt so despondent these last couple of weeks.

Maybe it was the fact that he had never really had a family. At ten he had lost both parents in an avalanche during a skiing trip. Cord's father had taken him in, raised him like a son, but it hadn't been the same. Now Uncle Cordell was gone. Cord was married, completely enraptured in Caitlyn.

Dolan sighed.

With a final shake he finished up, flushed and headed toward the shower. The glass door squeaked as he opened it. Adjusting the knobs, he jutted his hand beneath the flow to check the temperature. Too cold. He gave the knobs another twist. When the water was hot enough he stepped inside, pulling the door close.

Steam rose bathing him in its warmth. For a moment, he allowed the water to pound his face.

Visions of the redhead who captivated him last night still lingered in the back of his mind. He had fallen asleep to the heat of turquoise eyes and a come-and-get-me expression forever engraved into his memory.

Oh yeah. He could have lain in bed forever with the image of her hips swaying to the seductive music haunting his consciousness. With just a smile the temptress had bewitched him. Damned if he couldn't smell her sweet powdery scent.

He reached for the soap and began to suds his body. For some reason his skin felt sensitive, nerve endings close to the surface making him aware of his callused hands moving leisurely to cleanse him.

What would her caress feel like against his skin, timid and shy or confident and bold—daring?

The thought of her fingers closing around his cock made him reach down and take hold of himself. With slow, measured pumps from base to tip, he thought of her, remembering the lacy garter, legs long enough to wrap around his waist, and a heart-shaped ass just begging for his attention.

He didn't think it was possible but his cock grew firmer, his balls drawing close to his body. His grip tightened. He sucked in a sharp breath before easing back against the cold tile of the shower. Once, twice, he pumped his hand up and down, sending tingles of sensation down his erection.

It felt good—damn good, but he would rather a certain redhead be beside him stroking and kissing every inch of his body.

Harder and faster, he thrust his hips forward, pushing his engorged erection through his fingers. All the time he thought of her hands on him. His free palm pressed against the wall. His knees locked as he eased in and out of his grasp over and over. Pre-come, warm and wet, met his touch as he slid his hand over the crown sending a tremor throughout his body.

What would it feel like to have those full lips replacing his hand?

An image of her naked, her skin slick from the falling water, materialized in his head. From down on her knees, she looked up at him. Blood slammed into his testicles creating sweet pain that curled his toes. Damn if he could almost feel her touch against his thighs as she wrapped her beautiful mouth around his cock.

He uttered a moan of pleasure stilling his hand briefly to savor the feel and make the image last longer.

Would she hesitate or relish his masculine flavor and drink from his essence? Better yet, what would she taste like if they changed positions? What if he spread her thighs wide and sucked her clit deep into his mouth?

Another tremor shook him to the core. Increasing the pace, he pumped unsteady strokes up and down.

Feels
—He sucked in a breath and released it—
so good
.

His climax climbed higher and higher, erupting with a force that shook him. Lights burst behind his eyelids as lightning ripped down his shaft. He didn't even try to restrain the cry upon his lips. The sound of ecstasy felt like it was ripped from his diaphragm.

Shit. He'd completely forgotten about Rowdy.

Dolan's knees almost gave with the restraint it took to remain quiet. Breathless, heart pounding, he stood listlessly listening for any telltale signs his friend was awake. Seconds past, but the only sound was the water beating against the glass like raindrops against a window. That's when he made up his mind. He had to find her—had to know why he couldn't get her off his mind.

How long he leaned against the wall he didn't know. Pulling himself together, he finished soaping and rinsing his body and hair. It was time to get to work.

Switching off the water, he opened the door and retrieved a towel. Quickly he dried off and then ran it briskly over his hair, finger-combing it as he stepped out of the shower. The mirror was fogged with condensation. He made a swipe across the glass and stared into sorrowful eyes he didn't recognize.

"Enough,” he grumbled. “Your pity-party has come to end.” He turned away from his reflection determined to have a good day—an even better night.

The fresh scent of soap and woodsy aftershave tickled Tracy's nose. She fought the sneeze threatening to interrupt Travis Wood Senior as he pointed out the features of his stables.

"Twelve stalls. We're not very large in comparison to the others here in town, but we're clean.” She could see pride in his serious eyes as well as the confident way he held himself. Head high, shoulders back, each step taken with determination behind it. He stroked his large hand down his handlebar mustache. Late forties, he wasn't a bad looking man, honed by hard work. One thing she knew without a doubt, he was a no-nonsense man.

Every stainless steel rail was polished until it shined. The walkway was swept and probably mopped instead of sprayed because there was no standing water. Half of the stalls were occupied with horses happily munching on hay and oats. A sorrel with three white socks neighed. Another horse answered back clawing the ground.

"Our stock is healthy and of acceptable lineage,” he stated matter-of-factly.

She flashed him a genuine smile. “I can see that."

Her Uncle Carl had called in a favor. Wood hadn't warmly welcomed her, but she would take what she could. Winning him over would be easy. Not because she had long legs and a voice that seemed to mesmerize men, but she was good at her job—damn good.

"Easy girl.” The soft voice of a young man rose from a stall ten feet away.

"My son, Travis Junior,” Wood announced. A gleam sparked, replacing his seriousness. That was, until the teenager stepped out of the stall. He wore no hat like his father's expensive Stetson and that wasn't the only difference. Where Wood Senior's clothes were clean and pressed, down to the front seam of his jeans, his son looked in disarray. Straw and dirt dotted his wrinkled shirt half tucked in and half out of his jeans. His boots were scuffed and there was weariness on his taut features that seemed to grow even tighter when his gaze met his father's.

Wood Senior frowned. “What the hell—” He glanced sheepishly at Tracy. “Sorry ma'am.” His expression hardened as he turned back to his son. “What's going on here, boy? Looks like you slept in those clothes."

Travis immediately started to brush off his jeans. “Uh ... I did.” He fidgeted, clearly looking for an answer. “I—I mean, yeah, I fell asleep out here last night."

The look on Wood's face said he wasn't buying his son's lie, but he held his tongue. Instead he said, “Come meet our new vet."

"Vet?” Travis's voice cracked as he stared at the stethoscope around her neck and the black bag she carried. He stole a quick glance toward the mare in the stall. The telltale sign that something was afoot caught Tracy's interest. The straw had been beaten down and the mare seemed lethargic. “What about Crane?"

Ahhh ... The infamous Dolan Crane
.

Her young cousin had given her the scoop on the other vets in the area, including the one that made all the women in town lust after him. Laurie had sighed as she described the man's handsomeness and his reputation as a playboy.

Tracy had almost swallowed her tongue when her cousin cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “Rumors are he likes ménages.” Flush faced, the girl had giggled while Tracy had felt a spark of interest, one she had extinguished immediately.

She wasn't looking forward to meeting this playboy vet. He wouldn't be receptive to her encroaching on his territory, she was sure of that. The Woods had been his customers until now.

"Tracy Marx,” Wood Senior introduced. “I'll deal with Crane."

Travis jutted his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” He shot another look toward the mare and then wiped his palms on his jeans.

Not if your troubled expression means what I think it does
. She didn't speak her mind but thought it better to check the mare as soon as possible. “The pleasure is mine."

"Deal with me, how?” came a deep smooth voice from behind her.

Color drained from Travis's face and Wood Senior's expression grew taut.

She pivoted on the toe of her boot, almost toppling over when her breath caught.

The dark stranger from last night stood approximately twenty feet away. Their eyes met. Sparks flew between them thickening the air so that the next breath was difficult to inhale. Her pulse leaped and warmth sizzled through her veins.

For a moment, he appeared overtaken as well. That was until the sexy grin he wore faded. His brows furrowed as if he struggled to understand the situation. Then his gaze dropped to her chest.

Now that was embarrassing. Heat flashed across her cheeks. She looked down to see if the buttons of her cotton shirt were open, but only saw the stethoscope hanging between her breasts. She glanced back up at him. That's when Tracy saw the stethoscope around his neck and the matching black bag in his hand.

Oh shit! Every ounce of confidence fled from her body. Her mystery man was her competition.

Dolan Crane.

She swallowed hard. Fate must be having a fuckin’ good laugh at her. The first man who had ever made her body react with such unadulterated lust was the one she hoped to squeeze out of business.

With determination in his step he marched up to her and extended his hand. “Dolan Crane."