Tucker's Crossing (32 page)

Cody was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by saddles and bridles, wearing nothing but a Stetson, wet skin, and once he saw her . . . a hard-on.

Shelby sucked in a breath and squeezed her legs together.

Water beaded on his tanned skin and dampened the ends of his hair, which stuck out from beneath his hat. He was running a towel over his shoulder and down his chest, catching the water drops as they slid over the chiseled plains of his abs, making Shelby swallow hard.

“Lord have mercy,” she thought she whispered, but when her gaze reached those dark bedroom eyes regarding her with something close to smoldering lust, she knew she’d spoken too loud.

He didn’t move, he didn’t even speak. But then, he didn’t have to. Shelby stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Locking it.

“Dare I ask what you’re doing?” he mused.

“Feeling way too overdressed.” Which was silly because she had come equipped to seduce, but his equipment seemed so much more seduction-worthy. Because if she thought Cody was impressive clothed, naked, in the daylight, he was like a god. Yeah, well, he hadn’t seen her weapons yet.

Before she lost her nerve, she made her way across the room to stand in front of him. Lurking beneath the fragrance of leather and soil was a subtle masculine musk that made her mouth water and her nipples tighten. Her eyes dropped the length of him and back up. Without a word she raised her arms in offering.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he objected, even as his hands fisted in the bottom of her shirt. “Someone could come in.”

“I locked the door. I think we’ll be fine.”

Cody lowered his head slightly. “Where’s JT?”

“Playing video games.” Did Cody just move closer?

“I think we should take a rain check.” He inched her shirt up.

Oh, he’d definitely moved closer. She could feel him grow harder against her stomach. Shelby went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, not kissing him, just leaving them there. “Why, Cody Tucker, are you scared of me?”

“No, ma’am.” His words vibrated against her lips and straight to her core.

“Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d bet an afternoon of tack-room sex that you were stalling.”

In a single motion he drew her shirt over her head and discarded it to the floor, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ll raise you.”

She reached out and placed his hat on her own head. “It seems you’re all in, cowboy.”

Cody’s eyes raked her body and then his lips tugged up. “Then I call your bluff.”

Shelby tucked a finger under each bra strap, loving how Cody’s breath grew ragged with anticipation. Instead of tugging them down, like she knew he expected, she slid her fingers the length of the strap, over the lace of the demi-cup and finally inside, pulling the fabric past her aching nipples and allowing her breasts to spill out. She looked down at her offering and back up through her eyelashes, pleased when he looked off balance.

“Nice pair,” he drawled, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes never leaving her exposed breasts.

Licking her lips, then nipping at his, she ran her fingers over his pecs. A muscle in his stomach jerked as she slid lower, her hands gliding over his hips. She let her thumbs explore the sensitive hollow that led inward and smiled when he sucked in a breath.

He watched her as her hands moved closer and closer, his erection jerking as if begging her to touch him. But he still didn’t touch her. It was almost as if he was afraid that once he did, everything would change. And that was the point.

“Shelby Lynn,” he warned, his playfulness disappearing. “What are you doing?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious, cowboy. I’m upping the ante.”

He was in a bad way if her voice could have that kind of effect on him. Then her hands were on him, encasing him and gently squeezing. She stroked his length, then ran her finger over the tip and he about lost it.

She’d caught him off guard and thrown him off balance. Something that he didn’t allow to happen.

One minute he’d been on Goliath thinking about Shelby, the next he was on the ground in a pile of cow chips, staring up at the sky. He’d gone to the tack room to wash off and in walked temptation in some kind of ridiculous shoes and a tissue-paper shirt that made him hard in three seconds flat.

Now her hands were all over him and she didn’t disappoint. She knew exactly how to rub him and her grip was mind-blowingly soft. If he didn’t slow her down, this would end before it had a chance to get good.

Cody took her mouth in one hell of a hot kiss that somehow ended with him getting lost again. Desperate to make this last, he grabbed her hands, restraining them behind her back. “Your pair, although impressive as hell, aren’t enough.”

She blinked up at him, then smiled. Slowly she backed up, and of course he had to follow. She bumped into the wooden saddle rack that held his saddle, and leaned against it. Her eyes dropped to the juncture between her thighs and back up. “What makes you think you’ve seen all my cards?”

Cody didn’t waste time talking. He dropped to his knees, pushed up her skirt and swore. She had on the sexiest damn panties he’d ever seen. Silky, dark blue, see-through and not much there. Perfect.

He smiled up at her. “Not sure what I like more, silk or nothing.”

“I figured this way you get to see both.” She wiggled her hips. If it had been purely a sexual movement, he would have been all right. But it had a hint of insecurity that was somehow endearing, and that had him grasping for control.

He caught her hips, pulled her toward his mouth and placed a gentle kiss right at her center. Damn, she was already soaking. He leaned in again and this time gave a little nip. He felt her stomach tighten and her hips jerk.

He guided her foot up into the stirrup of his saddle, spreading her legs farther apart. Blowing over the wet material, he watched her clench and heard her moan. He moved the silk aside and gave a slow, thorough stroke of his tongue, right up her center and ending with a nip on her sensitive nub.

He licked her again and her whole body rocked against his mouth. He could feel the pressure building. The third lick and her back arched, she screamed out his name. Just like that she came apart.

“Don’t you dare let that go to your head,” Shelby warned, even though she was using him and the saddle rack to hold herself up.

“Honey, I’ve seen riders last longer on a bull.” She smacked him lightly. He kissed her soundly. Sliding her skirt and panties off, he hefted her up, resting that pretty ass of hers on the saddle, her sexy heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

“This is not what I imagined I’d be riding,” she said, looking down at the saddle. “But we can make it work.”

Holding up a strip of condoms, she tightened her legs around him and reeled him in. Every nerve ending in his body seemed to explode when he came in contact with her heated core.

A sudden need surged to bury himself—lose himself completely in the depths of her body. She could take away the guilt and the need to run that was buried so deep inside of him. Cody’s hands shook as he slid the condom into place and slowly pushed inside of her, filling her completely. With her it always felt like coming home.

He looked into her eyes and his breath caught. Lust was there, raw and strong, but there was more. It required things of him that he couldn’t give her. Things that she deserved.

She started to move on him. The friction was too much too soon, and he grabbed her hips to slow the pace. Ignoring his warning, or maybe challenging it, she placed one hand on the back of the saddle and the other on the horn and rolled her hips forward, pulsing until he was about to come. She was so wet and so tight he felt his control crumbling.

“Not yet.” In a swift, single movement he pulled out and flipped her over so she was standing, her back to his front, leaning forward on the saddle rack. He plunged back in.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, shuddering and moaning as her body shattered around his.

He heard the leather groan beneath her as he pumped. Cody gritted his teeth and held still, hoping to make it through her orgasm. He needed a minute to regroup. He wanted to drive her as insane as she made him.

He needed to prove to himself that he could be around her and still hold on to his control.

Reaching around, he cupped her breast. Forced his hands to be tender, his body to wait until she’d fully recuperated. Control was what he lived his life by and ever since the day his mom died, not much had been able to shake him—except Shelby. She could shred his restraint with one look. Around her it was a constant battle. One he couldn’t afford to lose.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, right next to her strap, and then gave a hard bite. She twitched and then widened her stance, gently rocking back into him. She did it again, only this time she clenched, squeezing a groan from him.

Looking back over her shoulder, she did it again, taunting him. Did she think this was some kind of fucking game? He was on the edge, for Christ’s sake. Then she smiled and called his bluff.

Gripping her hips, taking over, he drove inside. She lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Each time he slid inside of her, felt her tighten around him, he got closer to the point of submission.

That one word was enough to bring him back, to give him the focus he needed for restraint. Submission meant to give everything over to someone else. And there were parts of his soul that he never wanted to touch Shelby.

Picking up the pace, he applied the right amount of pressure that he knew she craved. He heard her breathing turn ragged, could almost feel the air slam in and out of her lungs, and he knew she was almost there. Hell, so was he. Then her legs began to give way.

“Come on, honey, hold on for just a little longer.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he leaned over her and whispered. Snaking an arm around her, as much to keep her upright as to find her golden spot, he stroked and teased. Then he found it, and she tightened, shoving back into him. When he thought he couldn’t take another slide inside of her, she sobbed out his name, her body jerked, clamping down and taking him for everything he had.

When they were both utterly spent, her body draped over the saddle, Cody rested his forehead against her shoulder. He closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her waist and just breathed her in.

A good man would walk away, let Shelby live here and work out some arrangement to see JT. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t live here, but he couldn’t imagine walking away from her either. And that made him one selfish bastard.

Shelby stepped up to the mike, blue ribbon in hand, her lunch in her throat, and looked out at the crowd that had gathered. Laurel Street, which had been shut down for the fair, was packed. Nearly every person in town had turned out for the Summer Sweet Spectacular, and not one of them was about to miss the winner of the chili cook-off. No longer were people milling about, sipping sweet tea and ogling Bea’s quilts or getting a complimentary acupuncture treatment from Mister. They were all staring—at her.

Shelby wore her fashionable-not-functional boots, as Cody had called them, a denim skirt and her favorite cream tank that was rimmed with lace. She wanted to look sexy, but authoritative, and loved that Cody couldn’t keep his eyes—or his hands—off her. Every chance he got, he was finding some excuse to touch her and she was giving him every reason to.

“If contestants number seventeen, eleven, and three would kindly make their way forward and take their places at the podium,” Shelby asked.

The podium was actually a metal table that Woodrow used to display coffins. Decorated with a red-and-white-check tablecloth and adorned with blue streamers and balloons, it almost looked festive. The three finalists’ dishes sat at the front of the table, their numbers prominently displayed. Two were impeccably assembled, looking like an ad for the Paula Deen show. While the third was like something Jake would put together for his yearly Mother’s Day breakfast in bed—edible if you didn’t mind eating an eggshell.

There was no question who contestant number 11 was. Blond fountains bounced their way to the front, swishing and swaying and framing the most angelic smile. Sidney made her way around the podium, and took a bow.

“I’m number eleven and I made that right there.” She pointed proudly to her plate. “My Auntie Gina supervised me, but I done all the stirring and cooking myself. She just took the muffins out of the oven and made sure I washed my hands after I went to the potty.”

Gina let go an ear-piercing whistle from the front row, clapping as if Sidney had just won Miss America.

A gasp erupted from the crowd, followed by an offended, “Why, I never.” Shelby immediately spotted the problem in the crowd. Although Ms. Luella and Mrs. McKinney had lain low the past few days, Shelby was sure that today their good manners would evaporate. And on cue, both women made their way to the front, each jockeying for position, shoving and elbowing until they reached the podium. Even then, they both tried to wedge themselves between the table and the mike, trying to be the closest to the ribbon.

“Ladies,” Cody said firmly from behind. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and steered them back a good two feet, to stand between him and the other judges. “Would hate to have to get out those gags.”

“What? I haven’t said a word. Just have a hard time seeing, is all,” Ms. Luella said as if that accounted for her behavior.

“Oh, you won’t have any problems seeing when I’m waving that blue ribbon in your face,” Mrs. McKinney taunted.

“Like hell you will,” Luella snapped. “That ribbon will be mine. Your muffins have three parts flour. Who makes corn muffins with three parts flour?”

“How did you know my recipe? Have you been snooping?” Mrs. McKinney looked at Shelby, the crowd, and back to Luella. Then the fingers started pointing. “Spy! You’re a snooping spy!”

“I’m no spy. You got the recipe from
Texas Cooking
magazine, same as all the other wanna-be’s.” Luella stepped closer, giving a little shove with her hip. “And I won’t stand here and be insulted by the likes of you.”