Читать книгу The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes: Take Me, Cowboy / Hold Me, Cowboy / Seduce Me, Cowboy / Claim Me, Cowboy / The Rancher's Baby - Maisey Yates - Страница 13

Four

She was kissing Chase McCormack. Beyond that, she had no idea what the flying F-bomb she was doing. If there was another person in the room, she didn’t see them. If there was a reason she’d started this, she didn’t remember it.

There was nothing. Nothing more than the hot press of Chase’s lips against hers. Nothing more than still, leashed power beneath her touch. She could feel his tension, could feel his strength frozen beneath her.

It was...intoxicating. Empowering.

So damn hot.

Like she was about to melt the soles of her shoes hot. About to come without his hands ever touching her body hot.

And that was unheard-of for her.

She’d kissed a couple of guys, and slept with one, and orgasm had never been in the cards. When it came to climaxes, she was her own hero. But damn if Chase wasn’t about to be her hero in under thirty seconds, and with nothing more than a little dry lip-to-lip contact.

Except it didn’t stay dry.

Suddenly, he reached up, curling his fingers around the back of her head, angling his own and kissing her hard, deep. With tongue.

She whimpered, the leg that was supporting her body melting, only the firm hold he had on her face, and the support of his chair, keeping her from sliding onto the ground.

The slick glide of his tongue against hers was the single sexiest thing she’d ever experienced in her life. And just like that, every little white lie she’d ever told herself about her attraction to Chase was completely and fully revealed.

It wasn’t just a momentary response to an attractive man. Not something any red-blooded female would feel. Not just a passing anomaly.

It was real.

It was deep.

She was so screwed.

Way too screwed to care that they were making out in a fancy restaurant in front of people, and that for him it was just a show, but for her it was a whole cataclysmic, near-orgasmic shift happening in the region of her panties.

Seconds had passed, but they felt like minutes. Hours. Whole days’ worth of life-changing moments, all crammed into something that probably hadn’t actually lasted longer than the blink of an eye.

Then it was over. She was the one who pulled away and she wasn’t quite sure how she managed. But she did.

She wasn’t breathing right. Her entire body was shaking, and she was sure her face was red. But still, she turned and faced Wendy, or whichever mean girl it was. There were a ton of them in her nonhalcyon high school years and they all blended together. The who wasn’t important. Only the what. The what being a kiss she’d just given to the hottest guy in town, right in front of someone who didn’t think she was good enough. Pretty enough. Girlie enough.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice a little less triumphant and a lot more unsteady than she would like, “we’re here on a date. And he’s going home with me. So I’d suggest you wiggle on over to a different table if you want to score tonight.”

Wendy’s face was scrunched into a sour expression. “That’s okay, honey, if you want my leftovers, you’re welcome to them.”

Then she flipped her blond hair and walked back to her table, essentially acting out the cliché of every snotty girl in a teen movie.

Which was not so cute when you were thirty and not fifteen.

But, of course, since Wendy was gone, they’d lost the buffer against the aftermath of the kiss, and the terrible awkwardness that was just sitting there, seething, growing.

“Well, I think that started some rumors,” Anna said, sitting back down and shoving a fry into her mouth.

“I bet,” Chase said, clearing his throat and turning back toward his plate.

“My mouth has never touched your mouth directly before,” she said, then stuffed another fry straight into her mouth, wishing it wasn’t too late to stifle those ridiculous words.

He choked on his beer. “Um. No.”

“What I mean is, we’ve shared drinks before. I’ve taken bites off your sandwiches. Literally sandwiches, not— I mean, whatever. The point is, we’ve germ-shared before. We just never did it mouth-to-mouth.”

“That wasn’t CPR, babe.”

She made a face, hoping the disgust in her expression would disguise the twist low and deep in her stomach. “Don’t call me babe just because I kissed you.”

“We’re dating, remember?”

“No one is listening to us talk at the table,” she insisted.

“You don’t know that.”

Her heart was thundering hard like a trapped bird in her chest and she didn’t know if she could look at him for another minute without either scurrying from the room like a frightened animal or grabbing him and kissing him again.

She didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of it.

It all felt too real, too raw and too scary. It all came from a place too deep inside her.

So she decided to do what came easiest. Exactly what she did best.

“I expected better,” she told him, before taking a bite of her burger.

“What?”

“You’re like a legendary stud,” she said, after swallowing her food. “The man who every man wants to be and who every woman wants to be with. Blah, blah.” She picked up another sweet potato fry.

“It wasn’t good for you?” he asked.

“Six point five from the German judge. Who is me, in this scenario.” She was a liar. She was a liar and she was a jerk, and she wanted to punch her own face. But the alternative was to show that she was breaking apart inside. That she had been on the verge of the kind of ecstasy she’d only ever imagined, and that she wanted to kiss him forever, not just for thirty seconds. And that was...damaging. It wasn’t something she could admit.

“Six point five.”

“Sorry.” She lifted her shoulder and shoved the fry into her mouth.

They finished the rest of the dinner in awkward silence, which made her mad because things weren’t supposed to be awkward between them. They were friends, dammit. She was starting to think this whole thing was a mistake.

She could bring Chase as her plus one to the charity thing without her brothers buying into it. She could lose the bet. The whole town could suspect she’d brought a friend because she was undatable and who even cared?

If playing this game was going to screw with their friendship, it wasn’t worth it.

Chase paid the tab—she was going to pay the bastard back whether he wanted her to or not—and then the two of them walked outside. And that was when she realized her truck was back at his place and he was going to have to give her a ride.

That sucked donkey balls. She needed to get some Chase space. And it wasn’t going to happen.

She wanted to go home and put on soft pajamas and watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. She needed a safe, flannel-lined space and the fuzzy comfort of an old movie. A chance to breathe and be vulnerable for a second where no one would see.

She was afraid Chase might have seen already.

They still didn’t talk—all the way back out of town and to the McCormack family ranch, they didn’t talk.

“My dirty clothes are in your house,” she said at last, when they pulled into the driveway. “You can take me to the house first instead of the shop.”

“I can wash them with mine,” he said.

Her underwear was in there. That was not happening.

“No, I left them folded in the corner of the bathroom. I’d rather come get them. And put my shoes on before I try to drive home actually. How do people drive in these?” She tapped the precarious shoes against the floor of the pickup.

Chase let out a harsh-sounding breath. “Fine,” he said. He sounded aggrieved, but he drove on past the shop to the house. He stopped the truck abruptly, throwing it into Park and killing the engine. “Come on in.”

Now he was mad at her. Great. It wasn’t like he needed her to stroke his ego. He had countless women to do that. He had just one woman who listened to his bullshit and put up with all his nonsense, and in general stood by him no matter what. That was her. He could have endless praise for his bedroom skills from those other women. He only had friendship from her. So he could simmer down a little.

She got out of the truck, then wobbled when her foot hit a loose gravel patch. She clung tightly to the door, a very wussy-sounding squeak escaping her lips.

“You okay there, babe?” he asked, just to piss her off.

“Yeah, fine. Jerk,” she retorted.

“What the hell, Anna?” he asked, his tone hard.

“Oh, come on, you’re being weird. You can’t pretend you aren’t just because you’re layering passivity over your aggression.” She stalked past him as fast as her shoes would let her, walked up the porch and stood by the door, her arms crossed.

“It’s not locked,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Well, I wasn’t going to go in without your permission. I have manners.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“If I didn’t, I probably would have punched you by now.” She opened the door and stomped up the stairs, until her heel rolled inward slightly and she stumbled. Then she stopped stomping and started taking a little more consideration for her joints.

She was mad at him. She was mad at herself for being mad at him, because the situation was mostly her fault. And she was mad at him for being mad at her for being mad at him.

Mad, mad, mad.

She walked into the bathroom and picked up her stack of clothes, careful not to hold the greasy articles against her dress. The dress that was the cause of so many of tonight’s problems.

It’s not the dress. It’s the fact that you kissed him and now you can’t deal.

Rationality was starting to creep in and she was nothing if not completely irritated about that. It was forcing her to confront the fact that she was actually the one being a jerk, not him. That she was the one who was overreacting, and his behavior was all a response to the fact that she’d gone full Anna-pine, with quills out ready to defend herself at all costs.

She took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed, trading the high heels for her sneakers, then collecting her things again and walking back down the stairs, her feet tingling and aching as they got used to resting flat once more.

Chase wasn’t inside.

She opened the front door and walked out onto the porch.

He was standing there, the porch light shining on him like a beacon. His broad shoulders, trim waist...oh, Lord, his ass. Wrangler butt was a gift from God in her opinion and Chase’s was perfect. Something she’d noticed before, but right now it was physically painful to look at him and not close the space between them. To not touch him.

This was bad. This was why she hadn’t ever touched him before. Why it would have been best if she never had.

She had needs. Fuzzy-blanket needs. She needed to get home.

She cleared her throat. “I’m ready,” she said. “I just... If you could give me a lift down to the shop, that would be nice. So that I’m not cougar food.”

He turned slowly, a strange expression on his face. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want you to get eaten by any mangy predators.”

“I appreciate that.”

He headed down the steps and got back into the truck, and she followed, climbing into the cab beside him. He started the engine and maneuvered the truck onto the gravel road that ran through the property.

She rested her elbow on the armrest, staring outside at the inky black shadows of the pine trees, and the white glitter of stars in the velvet-blue sky. It was a clear night, unusual for their little coastal town.

If only her head was as clear as the sky.

It was full. Full of regret and woe. She didn’t like that. As soon as Chase pulled up to the shop, she scrambled out, not waiting for him to put the vehicle in Park. She was heading toward her own vehicle when she heard Chase behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning to face him.

But her words were cut off by what he did next. He took one step toward her, closing the distance between them as he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her up against his chest. Then, before she could protest, before she could say anything, he was kissing her again.

This was different than the kiss at the restaurant. This was different than...well, than any kiss in the whole history of the world.

His kiss tasted of the familiarity of Chase and the strangeness of his anger. Of heat and lust and rage all rolled into one.

She knew him better than she knew almost anyone. Knew the shape of his face, knew his scent, knew his voice. But his scent surrounding her like this, the feel of his face beneath her hands, the sound of that voice—transformed into a feral, passionate growl as he continued to ravish her—was an unknown. Was something else entirely.

Then, suddenly—just as suddenly as he had initiated it—the kiss was over. He released his hold on her, pushing her back. There was nothing but air between them now. Air and a whole lot of feelings. He was standing there, his hands planted on his lean hips, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “Six point five?” he asked, his tone challenging. “That sure as hell was no six point five, Anna Brown, and if you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that.”

She sucked in a harsh, unsteady breath, trying to keep the shock from showing on her face. “I don’t have to admit any such thing.”

“You’re a little liar.”

“What does it matter?” she asked, scowling.

“How would you like it if I told you that you were only average compared to other women I’ve kissed?”

“I’d shut your head in the truck door.”

“Exactly.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So don’t think I’m going to let the same insults stand, honey.”

“Don’t babe me,” she spat. “Don’t honey me.”

Triumph glittered in his dark eyes. The smugness so certain it was visible even in the moonlight. “Then don’t kiss me again.”

“You were the one who kissed me!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide.

“This time. But you started it. Don’t do it again.” He turned around, heading back toward his truck. All she could do was stand there and stare as he drove away.

Something had changed tonight. Something inside of her. She didn’t think she liked it at all.