Texas Outlaws: Billy (3 page)

Yep, she had a craving, all right. One that wasn’t going to go away unless she satisfied it in a major way.

“I’m staying at the Lost Gun Motel,” she heard herself murmur.

Something dark and dangerous and oh so mesmerizing sparked in his violet eyes. “Well, what do you know? So am I.” He opened the car door. “My pickup’s just right down the row.” His grin faded and a look of pure determination carved his expression. “Let’s go.”

Warning bells clamored in her head, but the only thing she seemed conscious of was the frantic beat of her heart.

The excitement.

The anticipation.

The need.

“Just so we’re clear,” she managed to say despite the heat zipping up and down her spine, “this is just sex. We won’t be exchanging phone numbers or going out on a date or anything like that.”

He nodded. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“I’m not interested in getting to know you as a person. This is just physical.”

He nodded. “Purely physical.”

She squelched an unexpected rush of disappointment at his words and concentrated on the trembling in her hands and the desire coiling in her belly. “Then lead the way.”

4

B
ILLY
C
HISHOLM
’
S
HANDS
actually trembled as he shoved the key into the lock of the Lost Gun Motel, a clean but ancient establishment just off the main strip of town. It had been a long, long time since he’d been this worked up. This hot. This hard. This...anxious.

The knowledge would have been enough to send him running for the next county if the circumstances had been different—if Sabrina had been any of the dozens of marriage-minded women who’d been in hot pursuit since his oldest brother had found the love of his life and gone off the market.

Now Billy was the resident bad boy, which wasn’t a bad thing on account of he liked being bad. He liked making noise and breaking rules and living life.

He liked the rush from all three.

At one time, so did every available woman in town. The trouble was, where they’d once wanted a good time back in high school, they now wanted a walk down the aisle. Marriage.
Kids
.

They wanted Billy Chisholm to grow up, man up and settle down, and each and every one thought she’d be the one to make it happen. To rope, tie and tame him before he knew what was happening.

Not this cowboy.

He liked being single. Hell, he loved it. He didn’t have to answer to anyone. To worry about anyone. To hurt anyone.

He was the offspring of the most irresponsible man in the county. Silas Chisholm had been a two-bit criminal who’d pulled off the most impressive heist in the county, before pissing it away because of a case of white lightning and a lit cigarette. And all without a thought for his three young sons. The man had been selfish. Unpredictable. Unreliable.

Bad to the bone.

And out of all three boys, Billy was just as bad.

But while he looked like Silas, and even acted like him on occasion, he also knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of someone else’s bad decisions, and so he’d made up his mind to never, ever put someone else in that position. The last thing Billy Chisholm would ever do was get himself lassoed by any one woman.

Even one as hot and sexy as this one.

But Sabrina Collins didn’t want to marry him. With her high heels and tasteful clothes and reluctant demeanor, she was as far removed from Lost Gun as a woman could get. She had big city written all over her, even if she did drive a clunker. Even more, she was a stranger. A single stranger. And judging by the way she licked her lips, she wanted the same thing from him that he wanted from her—sex.

He pushed open the door, stepped back and let her precede him inside. He expected more of an exotic fragrance from her, given her big-city appearance and the whiff of cotton candy he’d caught back at the dance courtesy of the flowing martinis. The scent had long since disappeared. Instead, the warm scent of apples and cinnamon filled his nostrils as she eased past him. She smelled like sweet, fresh-from-the-oven apple pie, and his nostrils flared. A warning sounded somewhere in the back of his brain, but it wasn’t loud enough to push past the sudden hammering of his heart. A bolt of need shot through his body and his muscles bunched. He barely resisted the urge to haul her into his arms, back her up against the wall and take her hard and fast right there under the bare porch light, the june bugs bumping overhead.

He fought the crazy urge because Billy Chisholm didn’t do fast and furious. He didn’t lose his head where women were concerned. He stayed firmly in the saddle, calm and controlled.

Laying a woman down on a soft mattress, peeling away the clothes one piece at a time and taking things slow. That was the way to go. The way he always went, because losing his head wasn’t part of the proposition. A man said things he didn’t mean when he lost his head.

He followed her inside, closing the door behind them. A click sounded as she turned on a nearby lamp. A pale yellow glow pushed back the shadows and illuminated the interior. The room was far from fancy, but it was neat and clean. An unfinished pine dresser sat in the far corner, an ancient-looking television rested on top. A king-size bed took up the rest of the space. Calico curtains covered the one window near a window air-conditioning unit. A matching comforter draped across the bed. The slightly scarred hardwood floor gleamed from a recent polishing. He had his own place outside of town—just a small cabin he’d been building over the past year—but during rodeo time he hated to waste his time driving back and forth, and so he’d opted to rent a room here.

“It’s not the Crown Plaza, but it should do.”

“I’ve never stayed at the Plaza.” She licked her lips again and he had the gut feeling that she’d never done this sort of thing before. And then his gaze caught hers and he knew deep down that this was, indeed, a first for her.

Not a one-night stand. No, she seemed to know her way around when it came to that.

The first had more to do with him. She’d never done this with a man like him before.

“You’re not usually into cowboys, are you?”

“Never.” His blood rushed even faster at her admission. A crazy reaction because Billy wasn’t in the habit of being the first anything when it came to women. Be it the first cowboy or the first one-night stand or the first man to actually cause an orgasm. Rather, he steered clear of any situation that might set him apart in a woman’s mind and make him more than just a really good lay.

He stiffened, his fingers tightening on the room key. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“You’re right about that.” The hesitant light in her gaze faded into a wave of bright blue heat as she stepped closer. “It’s not good at all.” Another step and her nipples touched his chest. “You’re so
not
my type.”

Before he could blink, she shifted things into high speed, pressed herself against him and thrust her tongue into the heated depths of his mouth, kissing him, devouring him, shaking his sanity and his precious control.

Before he could think, his body reacted. His hands went to her tight, round ass, and he pulled her even closer. He rubbed his throbbing erection against the cradle of her pelvis. His fingers bunched material until he reached the hem of the skirt and felt her bare flesh beneath. Her thighs were hot to the touch. Soft. Quivering.

Holy shit.

Urging her backward, he eased her down onto the bed. He captured her mouth in a deep, intense kiss that lasted several heartbeats before he pulled away and stepped back. He drew a much-needed breath, determined to get himself in check and hop back into the driver’s seat. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He unfastened the button on his jeans and pushed the zipper down. The pressure eased and the edges gaped and he could actually breathe for a few seconds.

Until she pushed to a sitting position and leaned forward.

Her fingers touched the dark purple head of his erection where it pushed up above the waistband of his briefs. The air lodged in his throat and he ground his teeth against a burst of white-hot pleasure. Her touch was so damn soft and he was so hard and...

He needed to touch her.

To see her.

He reached for the hem of her blouse and pulled it up and over her head. One dark nipple pushed through the lace-patterned cup of her black bra. He leaned over and flicked his tongue over the rock-hard tip. She gasped and he drew the nub deeper into his mouth, sucking her through the flimsy covering.

Her fingers threaded through his hair and held him close. He relished the taste of her flesh for several heart-pounding moments before he pulled away. He gripped the cups of her bra and pulled them down and under the fullness of her breasts. The bra plumped her and her ripe nipples raised in invitation.

When he didn’t lower his head and suckle her again, she reached for him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Easy, darlin’. We’ll get to it.” But not yet. He meant to take his time. He always took his time and now was no different.

She was no different.

Even if she was softer and warmer and sweeter than any woman he’d ever been with.

He unzipped her skirt and peeled it from her body in a slow, tantalizing motion that stirred goose bumps in her soft flesh. Trailing his fingers back up the way they’d come, he hooked his fingers at the thin straps of her panties and followed the same path down her long legs. When he had her naked, with the exception of the bra pulled beneath her luscious breasts, he leaned up and let his gaze sweep the length of her.

She was definitely not from around here, he realized when his attention settled on the barely-there strip of pubic hair that told him she’d been waxed at some big-city salon rather than the local Hair Saloon.

“Did you get this back in L.A.?” He trailed a finger down the barely-there strip of hair and watched her tremble.

“Yes.”

“I like it.” He traced the slit that separated her lush pink lips and a groan trembled from her mouth. Her legs fell open and the soft pink flesh parted for him.

He dipped his fingertip into her steamy heat and watched her pupils dilate. Her mouth opened and she gasped. And then he went deeper, until her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell back. He worked her, sliding his finger in and out until her essence coated his flesh and a drop trickled over his knuckle.

Hunger raged inside him and he dipped his head, flicked his tongue over the swollen tissue and lapped up her sweetness.

At the first contact of his mouth, she arched up off the bed and her hands tangled in his hair. He tasted her, savoring the bitter sweetness and relishing the soft, gasping sounds coming from her trembling lips. He swirled his tongue around her clitoris and felt the tip ripen for him. She whimpered as he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth and nibbled until she tensed beneath him. Her fingers clutched at his hair in a grip that was just short of painful. The sensation fed his ravenous desire and made his breath quicken. He stroked her once, twice and her breath caught on a ragged gasp.

“Please. Just do it. Do it now.”

He gathered his control and pulled away, determined to make it last for both of them. But then his gaze collided with hers and he saw the fierce glitter in her eyes—a mix of desire and impatience and fear—and he had the strange feeling that there was more than just an orgasm hanging in the balance.

As if she feared the morning after even more than he did.

Good.

At least they were both on the same page.

That meant if one of them lost perspective for whatever reason, the other could push them back on track. It was all about tonight.

This moment.

Nothing more. He snatched up his jeans and retrieved a condom from his pocket. After sliding on the latex, he settled between her legs. Bracing himself, he shoved his penis deep into her wet heat in one swift thrust that stalled the air in his lungs.

He gripped her lush hips, his tanned fingers digging into her pale flesh as he plunged into her again. She closed her eyes, lifted her hips and met each thrust until he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock throbbed and filled and he was right there. He thrust again and the pressure built.

Pleasure fogged his brain and before he could stop himself, he reached down between them and parted her flesh just above the point where he filled her. He caught her swollen clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly.

She moaned and her body convulsed around him and he knew she’d tumbled over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time and followed. He held her tight and relished the way her inner muscles milked him.

Finally, his hold loosened and he collapsed onto his back. He reached for her, tucking her against his body and losing himself in the frantic pounding of his heart.

Fear hammered at the edges of his brain, but he wasn’t going to let it in. Not just yet.

There would be plenty of time later to beat himself up over the fact that he’d lost control for a few precious seconds and, in the process, violated every promise he’d ever made to himself when it came to women and sex.

Plenty of time.

But right now... Right now he just wanted to close his eyes and hold her close. Just for a little while.

* * *

G
ET
UP
. T
HAT
’
S
what Sabrina told herself the minute she heard the soft snores coming from the man next to her.

Get up.

Get out.

Get moving
.

While she didn’t have to worry about alarming Livi if she failed to make it out of Billy’s room before daybreak—she and Livi had opted to get separate rooms since they were splitting up most of the time to work more territory—she’d still promised to meet her first thing in the morning for breakfast.

Even more, she had a column to finish for one of the blogs she regularly wrote for. The name of the column? “Oh, No, She Didn’t.” It was a weekly tell-all on female celebrities and their outlandish behavior that she penned for a tabloid website out of Los Angeles. A far cry from CNN or Fox News, but the site paid a small fee per word and at least she was actually getting paid to write something. Heaven knew she had a stack of journalism pieces she’d written on spec that would never see the light of day. Commentaries on the state of the nation, a story on the outrageous salaries paid by the L.A. County Water Department, and even a twenty-page analysis on the anti-gluten craze. Anything she’d felt might draw some interest, she’d penned and sent in to every newspaper and website she could think of. And the most she’d gotten back was a few comments saying her writing was good, but they needed material that was groundbreaking. A fresh angle. A cutting edge story that would sell copy. And so she’d stuck with her one sure writing gig—the column for the tabloid site. A paycheck, however small, at least made her dream seem legitimate, even if it didn’t pay the bills.

She thought of the bank robbery that had put Lost Gun on the proverbial map. The story had been big news back in the day, but she didn’t know nearly as much as she needed to in order to start thinking about an angle. An easy fix, of course, thanks to Google. A few articles would put her up to speed and maybe spark some ideas for a new look at the story. But first she needed facts.