A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding Page 17

  Shane cleared his throat. Far too clothed, he wanted to say, but he was supposed to be a gentleman. “Ah, maybe we should go. I said I was taking you out, and I’m not sure where we were would lead us out the door any time soon.”

  She looked around the little entryway as if pondering some great problem, so Shane did as well, noting the clutter of young boy and professional woman, mixed up and shoved into a little corner. Sneakers and high heels, some flowery printed scarf tangled up with a fleece jacket. It felt . . . right. Cora. Made him glad to be here even aside from the potential for sex.

  She met his gaze again. “I don’t want to go out.”

  His stomach dropped, something like panic catching in his chest. “But, I thought—”

  She stepped toward him again, this time reaching out, her hands landing on his chest, fingers splaying there. She looked up at him, blue eyes dark and damn near mesmerizing enough to drown in. “I want to stay in.”

  He maybe wasn’t the quickest man in the world, but he wasn’t a slow one either. Everything inside of him tightened, and damn near yearned. But there was a protocol. A plan. A certain way you did things with a woman you were interested in. “You’re all dressed up,” he managed, a feeble excuse at best. If all his blood hadn’t rushed south he might have come up with something better. “You’d want to go out after all that work, wouldn’t you? I mean, I don’t know much about women, but I heard my sisters complain about getting fancied up plenty growing up.”

  “All that work doesn’t need to go outside to be enjoyed,” Cora replied, hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders as she moved onto her tiptoes, against his chest, her mouth just out of reach.

  God, he wanted that mouth. Those curves. He wanted all of her so much he practically throbbed with it, but there was still some semblance of brainpower left. Obligation. He should take her out first. He should. “But—”

  “We have approximately eighteen hours in this house together, alone, and then God only knows when the next time will be, at least until school starts again. How do you want to spend it?”

  “Sold.” He reached out, lifting her off her feet in a smooth maneuver if he did say so himself. She laughed, breathlessly, then latched her mouth onto his, a potent mix of lips and teeth and tongue.

  She might kill him, and he’d enjoy every second. “Where?” he murmured against her busy mouth.

  “Upstairs. I have condoms upstairs,” she managed to say between fervent kisses to his mouth, his jaw, his temple. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he wanted to do the same. Lose himself in every inch of her. Lose these horrible clothes keeping them apart.

  “Upstairs it is,” he said, heading for the narrow staircase behind them, groaning as her body moved against his until he thought he might black out.

  But he wasn’t about to do that. He was going to carry her up the stairs, and, then, he was going to have her. All of her.

  “Oh, but you can’t carry me upstairs,” she said, again through a shower of her mouth against his skin.

  “Like hell I can’t,” he returned, setting out to do just that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A man had never carried her before. Not when she’d been a child, not up the stairs, and certainly not to bed. But Shane was doing all that as though it were easy as pie. As though she weighed about half of what she did. As though he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  She’d been worried there, for a second or two, when he’d been so adamant about taking her out, but she’d realized quickly that was so very Shane. To want to do things in the right order. To make sure he was taking care.

  Right now, this was the only way she wanted to be taken care of.

  “My room is the first one.”

  He reached the top of the stairs, not even out of breath as his mouth streaked over her neck. He nudged the already ajar door open with his boot and stepped in, fastening his mouth to hers, lips rough, tongue demanding.

  Oh, yes, there was something deliciously dirty underneath all that goody-two-shoes. He didn’t even put her down. She’d hooked her legs around his waist, and his hands cupped her ass as he moved her slowly against the very impressive erection in his jeans.

  If it went on much longer she might shatter right there. Especially when his mouth lowered again, down her neck and then her chest over the fabric of her dress. He found the hard peak of her nipple through the fabric and closed his mouth over it, with heat and a little bit of teeth.

  She arched, electrified, desperate, needy. “Let me get the condoms.”

  “Are you sure you don’t feel like I’m moving you too fast?” he murmured into her neck, his tongue tracing some tendon there, eliciting a gasp from her.

  God. God he was good at this. Too fast? “Shane, I’m not even half naked. This is glacial. Maybe childless women can dawdle, but a single mom has to take the chances she’s offered.”

  He chuckled, something kind of dark and edgy in the sound, in him, and she wanted to revel in the fact that she brought it out. He lowered her to the ground, slowly, making sure her body slid against his erection as he put her on her feet.

  She managed to unwrap her arms from his neck, her breath coming in short spurts from the sheer excitement of it all. “Just give me a second,” she said, quickly walking over to her bed and getting down on her hands and knees. She reached under the bed, pushed the two plastic bins out of the way, then dragged out the heavy gun safe where she kept all the things she wanted hidden from Micah.

  She punched in the code, then lifted the lid. Inside was a wad of cash she kept stashed away just in case Stephen ever messed with her finances. A few art projects Micah had made in school she was afraid he’d throw away if he had access to, all the legal papers regarding Micah and Stephen in an unmarked folder, the little pistol she’d finally stopped carrying around out of fear, and a box of condoms she’d bought the other day, thinking of Shane specifically.

  She grabbed it and snapped the safe back shut, turning to face Shane while she was still crouched by the bed.

  “I . . . have never seen condoms kept in a safe before.”

  “Well, you know what they say, gotta have safe sex.” She smiled when he laughed at the horrible joke. “Seriously, though, I can’t let my kid see I have condoms.”

  “Yeah, I get that. You’re saving him from being scarred for life.”

  “Oh, did you find your mom’s condoms once?”

  Shane grimaced. “Well, everything inside of me just shriveled up and died.”

  She pushed the safe back under the bed and got to her feet. “I bet I can fix that.” She dropped the condom box on her nightstand and reached behind her to unzip the dress, letting it flutter to her feet. She’d worn her laciest, sexiest underwear.

  He inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming her body like a starved man at a buffet. “Crisis averted,” he murmured. “Christ,” he said on an exhale, grinning at her as he moved forward. “Aren’t you the prettiest thing?”

  No one had ever said something like that to her before. Sure, a guy might say she was hot or sexy, maybe on occasion, and usually before they got her naked in an attempt to get her naked, but Shane . . .

  Prettiest thing.

  She blinked against the odd sting of tears. She didn’t want to cry, or feel touched—at least not emotionally. She wanted the tide of heat and excitement to carry them away, and she’d deal with all those messy emotions later. When she was alone.

  So, she cocked her hip, swept her gaze up and down his tall, broad frame. “Now who’s overdressed?”

  His hat had fallen off somewhere along the way, which was a shame, all in all. Still, as he lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt, nothing was truly a shame. He unbuttoned the row with quick, efficient movements, his dark gaze fastened on hers the entire time. The corner of his mouth turned upward ever so slowly, all cocky cowboy, as he shrugged out of the fabric.

  Cora inhaled a little sharply herself. He was bronzed skin and dark hair and just the broadest should
ers. She wasn’t supposed to believe in fantasies, but Shane was one come to life. In a million little ways, and a few very large ones.

  Very large.

  She crossed to him, because, emotions or not, the odd little flutter of nerves or not, time was ticking. And she wanted to spend every second of that time touching him.

  She pressed her palms to his abdomen, splaying her fingers wide. He was all hard ridges and warm skin. There was a delicious edge to his expression, restrained control. A hot bolt of lust arrowed through her.

  That she knew how to deal with. She dropped her fingers to the button of his pants and unfastened it even as she pressed her mouth to his shoulder. She unzipped his jeans, allowing herself to linger in the taste of his skin, to brush her fingers lightly against the thick, hard length of him.

  She shuddered with need as his large hand came up to cup her face, crushing his mouth to hers, a fierce kind of want she more than matched in the move. But then everything in him softened, gentled. His grip on her face went light. His mouth turned sweet.

  And that she didn’t know what to do with. Sweetness. Affection. Care. The way his fingertips, so rough from all that hard work he did, smoothed the bra strap off her shoulders and tugged her bra down. Scarred, calloused hands with the softest, most reverent touch over the tightened nipples of her breasts, all while his mouth gentled over hers as though she were something precious. Delicate.

  It made those tears sting her eyes again, so she pulled back, away, flashing her sassiest smirk. “Lose the pants,” she said, her voice a little rougher, weaker than she’d imagined it’d be.

  But he lifted her off the ground again, still surprising her with the ease in which he did it, and, when he laid her out on the bed, that cocky curve back to his mouth, something dark and dangerous was in that brown gaze of his.

  It was some kind of amazing he could be both. Sweet and light. Dark and dangerous. Here and somehow hers, for at least a little bit.

  He pushed his jeans and boxers down in one easy push, so Cora wiggled out of her underwear. His gaze roamed her body, hot and heavy as a touch.

  She crooked a finger at him, the other hand reaching behind her to the nightstand. “Come here,” she said, because, if he kept staring at her like she was some kind of precious jewel, she was pretty sure she was going to break down and cry.

  She was damn well going to get some sex out of the deal before she let herself do any of that. So, she tore open the packet and pulled out the condom, focusing on the very important task of rolling it onto him as he knelt beside her.

  She made an approving noise in the back of her throat as she positioned the condom on him, then grinned up at him as she rolled it on. His expression was one of grim, fierce control.

  And then it broke.

  “Hell,” he muttered, leveraging himself above her, positioning himself at her entrance. She grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss so she could squeeze her eyes shut. Focus on sensation instead of feeling.

  He slid inside of her, a slow, delicious invasion that had her groaning into his mouth. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her bottom lip, whispering things she barely understood. Tried not to. Because every time she caught a word it was something like “beautiful” or “sweet,” and she didn’t know how those things could possibly be applied to someone like her. Especially from someone like him.

  So she focused on the feel of his hard body above hers. The hot, heavy brand of his hand on her hip, the soft unexpected sweetness of his mouth in contrast to the demanding, needy, almost desperate pace he set.

  She held on, trying so desperately hard to keep her heart separate from her libido. All those swirling, conflicting emotions drowned in lust and release.

  But Shane filled her completely, moved inside of her with an ease and a fit that spoke of years together instead of firsts. Meant togethers instead of just for nows.

  There was no keeping it separate. Not when he kissed her gently, or when the kiss went rough. Not as he slowed the pace down, or when she begged him to hurry.

  There was only her heart swelling foolishly, unreasonably as his breath grew ragged with hers, as his heart beat hard against hers. Even when that climb to pleasure broke, pulsing through her like sparklers of ecstasy and wonder, her heart pulsed with it. Too big, too desperate.

  She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, trying to keep a hold on the tears, the bolt of panic, and that all-encompassing need for someone to feel the same things she felt. To reciprocate even a fraction of what she wanted.

  “Hold on,” he murmured into her ear, and then, in a swift movement, his strong arm slid behind her back, and he rolled them in a fluid movement so he was on his back, and she was splayed across his long, rangy body—him still buried deep within her.

  She let out a breathless chuckle, trying to find purchase in this new position, with his body under hers. Something like at her mercy, as if she had any control.

  He grinned up at her, his hands sliding up her legs and then clamping on her hips. “Your turn to do some of the work.”

  Her heart flipped over at the mischievous look in his eye, but, with his gaze on hers, that lopsided grin half lost in pleasure, she could push that horrible well of emotion down, and focus on him. On fun. On making him go crazy.

  She slid her hands up to his chest, pushing herself into a sitting position as she grinned down at him. “Buckle up, cowboy.”

  * * *

  Shane was about ninety-nine percent sure he’d died at some point, and gorgeous Cora collapsed on top of him, warm and soft and perfect was a reward for some good he’d done along the way. Had to be.

  She sighed contentedly against his neck, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, breathing matching his as it slowly came back to a normal rate. He moved his hand up and down her spine, wishing they could stay here forever.

  But he heard her stomach rumble, and he was getting hungry himself. Besides, if they lay here much longer he’d be liable to doze off and ruin the whole night. Reluctantly, he withdrew from her and rolled her onto her side. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Better wash up,” he murmured.

  He padded to the bathroom and got rid of the condom. When he walked back into her room, she was still lying naked on the bed. The prettiest damn thing he’d ever seen.

  She yawned and stretched, her fingers grasping a fluffy, bright pink lump of fabric resting haphazardly across the headboard. “I’m starved. I can’t cook, but I can occasionally heat up a frozen pizza without burning it.” She slid off the bed, and he realized the fuzzy lump was a robe.

  “Well, it just so happens I’m an expert at frozen pizzas,” he offered, picking his boxers up off the ground and pulling them on.

  She grinned, tying the robe with an efficient knot. She pulled her hair from underneath the collar, letting it fall onto her back.

  He couldn’t quite get over how he’d suddenly gotten so lucky. Aside from the ranch, good fortune wasn’t generally in his corner, but he had no doubt Cora Preston was his very much good fortune.

  “I’m going to have to say thank you to Ben Donahue.”

  She burst out laughing. “Why on earth?”

  “If that bastard hadn’t conned my mother into marrying him, I’d have never met you. And I think you are even worth my mom’s marrying the wrong guy.”

  She grimaced more than smiled, and he cupped her face, trying to read that odd reaction she had every time he complimented her. “How come you look like I’m about to land a punch every time I say something nice.”

  She blanched. Near bone white.

  “Hey, what’s wr—”

  She stepped away, far out of his reach, and that bothered him almost as much as the way she’d paled.

  “Cora.”

  “It’s nothing.” She smiled at him, but it was fake. Her lips might curve, but her eyes were downright haunted. “Hungry?”

  He could have let it go, and maybe he should, but what had transpired in this bedroom was important to him,
and he’d learned a thing or two from being burned by love in the past. He’d learned a thing or two since Cora had driven into his life.

  Sometimes, you had to face the things you didn’t want to verbalize for them to ever make any sense.

  “Tell me,” he said gently, looking right at her, treating her a bit like a skittish horse—not that he’d ever tell her that’s what he was doing. He approached slowly, cautiously, hand out so she saw his intent before he did it. He smoothed his palm down her shoulder. “Tell me.”

  She looked up at him, and there was something like fear in that helpless look. A loss in those dark blue eyes he couldn’t even guess at. But she closed them and shook her head. “It’s just . . . Well, I told you, not a great many good guys in my life. So, it’s always kind of jarring. A guy saying something nice. I don’t expect it. I don’t know quite how to . . . accept it.”

  He pulled her closer, drawing her into his arms, so her cheek rested against his chest. “Every man in your life has been an idiot.”

  “Haven’t they just?” She tilted her head back, looking up at him quizzically. “How come you’re single? Doesn’t seem natural after all the losers I’ve dated that someone as sweet and good as you is on the market.”

  “I’m not exactly . . . I’m not an easy guy to get to know. I tend to keep my guard up, I guess.”

  “It was easy enough for me to slip through.”

  “It’s been a long time since I let someone.” He reached out and touched one of the waves of curl that stuck out haphazardly. “You made that letting in hard to resist.”

  “Why was it a long time?”

  Shane blew out a breath. Well, he really didn’t want to get into that, but he supposed if he was standing here asking her for more information, she had just as much of a right.

  “Well, how about this, I’ll tell you all about my past broken heart, long as you tell me about yours.”

  Her eyes lowered, a heaviness washing through her. “Oh, who wants to talk about all that old stuff?” She flashed him a grin he knew wasn’t anything more than an attempt at distraction. “Let’s talk about now.” She patted his chest and batted her eyelashes up at him. “And frozen pizza.”