Читать книгу Pick Me Up - Samantha Hunter - Страница 6

“IS HE CUTE?”

Lauren grimaced. “Cute doesn’t really cover it. Salivatingly hot, or, please-rip-my-clothes-off handsome might be a little closer to the mark. And he’s got that whole gruff, young Clint Eastwood thing going for him.”

“Wow. God, I love Clint in the old Rawhide episodes. I just got them all on DVD, just for him,” Becky sighed. “So why’d you turn him down?”

“I don’t know him. He’s just a cowboy or something.”

“Lauren, there’s no such thing as just a cowboy.”

“You’ve known a lot of cowboys I take it?”

“A few.”

She could hear the satisfaction in Becky’s voice even over the cell phone crackle. Becky was one of the most intelligent women she’d met, but Lauren wasn’t sure Becky knew the definition of monogamous. Lauren envied Becky’s lifestyle, not to mention the confidence and excitement that came with it. Seven years in a bad marriage had left Lauren severely lacking in that department. It was exactly why she was standing alone in a motel room instead of having dinner with a sexy guy who’d asked her out. Her old, fearful self just wouldn’t back down.

“I picked him up on the side of the road, and that’s not exactly a safe way to meet someone.”

“Is there a safe way to meet anyone? Nothing’s ever that cut and dried, I’m afraid. I met one of the creepiest men I’ve ever known in church.”

“You go to church?” Lauren teased.

“It was for my niece’s baptism, and don’t deflect. Your cowboy doesn’t sound like a drifter or a bum, from what you said.”

“No,” Lauren said, out of excuses. “I didn’t get that impression either.”

“So what happened to no wimps allowed?”

“There’s a difference between wimpy and stupid.”

“They sound like the same thing in this case.”

“Hey!”

“Hey back. People hook up like this all the time, Lauren. Airplanes, parties, bars. The one-night stand is an American classic, and if done right, with the right guy, it can be something that will make you smile at the memory when you’re eighty.”

Becky was right. Lauren knew she was right.

That’s why she’d called her, to get some much needed courage. Somewhere in this motel, her supersexy cowboy was sitting alone in his room. She wanted to be daring, sexy and spontaneous, but she was wimping out; she’d known Becky wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“Lauren, it’s one night. An adventure, remember? Go take your cowboy for a ride.”

Taking a deep breath, Lauren dug through her large suitcase and pried back the layers of her jeans and T-shirts to retrieve what she was looking for. Finding the package she slowly drew away the tissue, and took in the layers of luxurious black satin.

“I guess this could be as good a time as any to try out the dress,” she said with a sigh, holding the shiny fabric in her fingers. The cut of the strapless dress was deceptively simple. She’d bought it on a no-holds-barred shopping trip with Becky the day her divorce had been finalized; it had cost a fortune. She’d never worn it except in the dressing room.

She knew the silky material clung to every curve, not to mention showing off a few she hadn’t been aware of. Reaching inside her case, she found a thong, sheer strapless bra and garters with hose. She’d thought it was a waste of space in her sparse luggage, but she couldn’t bear to leave them behind.

“That dress was made just for a situation like this. He won’t stand a chance.”

“I guess I’m afraid of what might happen—what if he thinks I’m a tease, or a downright slut? What if I go down there dressed like this and can’t go through with it? What if—”

“Stop what-iffing. Breathe.”

“Becky, I was married for so long, I just don’t know.” Her doubts rang in her mind like a five-alarm fire, and she dropped the dress, watching it collapse into an onyx pool on the bed.

“Lauren, honey, Wes took seven years of your life—don’t let him keep getting in your way. You thought you were playing it safe with him, and look what you ended up with. Believe me, you need to do this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—it’s dinner, right? Go to a public place and make sure you have an easy exit route, but do it. And if the best happens, enjoy it. Young Clint Eastwoods aren’t easily come by these days. Enjoy yours.”

Lauren was so tempted, but was she brave enough?

“Listen, hon, gotta client calling in on the other line, gotta go. Have fun. Don’t forget the condoms…”

Condoms? “Becky, I don’t have…”

She stopped, pushing the tissue the dress had been wrapped in aside, and discovered a blue rectangular box with a black ribbon wrapped around it. Spiral specialties that studies confirmed intensified sexual pleasure for men and women, so the box claimed.

“Becky, you are a friend among friends,” she said to the empty room.

Her decision was made. She started peeling off her jeans, walking to the shower, excitement buzzing every nerve ending. Brett was hot, and she could barely remember what sex was like, it had been so long. That part of her marriage had died a quiet death long before her divorce. And Wes, well, he was handsome, in his stockbroker-like way, but he wasn’t a cowboy with dusty, sun-streaked hair and strong, calloused hands.

Stepping out of the shower refreshed a few minutes later, she slipped into the clothes on the bed—the underwear alone made her feel like the sexist woman on earth. The touch of the dress was better than any sex she’d ever had, though maybe it was time to remedy that.

Brett was a question mark, no doubt. It could be the best choice she ever made, or among the worst, but that was what risk was all about, right? She had to do this. Slipping on her low black heels, she took a look in the mirror, applying a scant bit of lipstick, her only makeup.

“You clean up okay, girl.” Pushing up her bust and reorganizing a little, she rebelliously made the most of what nature had given her. Grabbing her purse, she made a line for the door.

She’d find Brett’s room, and see what happened. Maybe he’d changed his mind, or maybe he’d decided to go back to his ranch. If that was the case, so be it. She’d chalk it up and take herself out for a nice dinner. There, she had a Plan B. No need for nerves. There was nothing to lose.

Opening the door, she paused. Running back to her bed, she ripped open the condom box and grabbed a strip of four or five, shoving them deep in her bag like a guilty secret.

“Never can tell,” she whispered before she practically skipped back out the door.

“SO WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?”

Brett laid back on the bed, contemplating Pete’s question and giving his little brother points for not rubbing it in that things with Marsha hadn’t worked out.

“For the moment, stay here. I can meet you up there tomorrow, we can trailer the bike back, and see what the heck blew on it.”

“I mean about Marsha. She took off you know—Howie, too. She put on a huge act, the bride left at the altar. Made me sick. She took your honeymoon tickets and left. I don’t think anyone knows Howie went with her.”

“How discreet of them,” Brett muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I hope they have a great time.” On his dime, he thought bitterly.

“You’re better off without her, though maybe if you’d listened to me you could have sidestepped some of this trouble. I may be younger, but I know a thing or two.”

“Okay, I knew that was coming sooner or later,” Brett groaned. “You never took to her.”

“She’s a bitch, Brett, and she’s always been one. How you never saw it was beyond me. Howie probably wasn’t the first guy she was screwing. Hell, she even came on to me, once.”

Brett tensed. “You never mentioned that.”

“Why would I? She would have denied it, and you would have believed her. You had your head so deep in the ranch you never looked up to see what else was going on.”

Brett shook his head, angry at Pete, but thinking it was probably undeserved, especially since his brother was right. However, Pete also had the luxury of all the things Brett had sacrificed for—Pete had finished his four years at college, and Brett had held down the fort. Pete did his fair share, but Brett held the reins. He took the larger part of managing their legacy.

Pete still held poetic notions of the perfect woman, the perfect relationship. Perfect love. An oxymoron. Brett didn’t want to sound cynical or dismissive of his brother’s values, but the kid spent way too much time reading poetry by Whitman and Neruda, ignoring the harsh realities of life.

“Anyway, can you meet me out there about noon tomorrow?” Guests at the ranch would be out and about, and the staff would be working, which would give him enough time to come home without drawing undue attention. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was sneaking around, and it pissed him off. He had no reason to be ashamed, but he was anyway, and it irked him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to go find some din—” A knock at the door interrupted his thought. “Listen, I gotta go—see you tomorrow, Pete.”

Hanging up the phone, he opened the door tentatively, unaware of anyone who’d be looking for him here, and paused startled when he saw the lovely woman standing before him. He stared for a moment, thinking she had the wrong room. He let his eyes have a little treat as they wandered over her sexy dress—and then he noticed the freckles.

“Lauren?”

She smiled and he felt all the blood in his body rush to his crotch. Shifting a little uncomfortably, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. This was the same jean-clad woman who’d given him a ride earlier?

Looking at her, he could barely think of the word “ride” without X-rated images dancing through his mind. Had he actually considered her merely pretty at any point in time? Had he lost his mind? She was spectacular, sweetness and sin all in one lovely, black satin bundle.

“When I picked you up earlier,” she said in a low, sexy tone that was husky, intentional. “You told me to surprise you. So.” She turned around slowly, looking at him over her shoulder in a way that nearly brought him to his knees. “Surprise.”

He didn’t know what to say—surprise was certainly one of the things he was feeling, though no words would seem to form. She reached out, touching the tie that still hung haphazardly from his neck.

“I was just in my room, thinking about you sitting down here in your tux, and I regretted saying no to your offer for dinner. The man at the desk said there are a few really nice restaurants in town, if you’re still interested?”

“I’m interested,” he managed and stepped back to invite her into the room. Only then he caught her moment of hesitation. While she was coming on bold, the sweet-faced woman from the car was lurking beneath this sexy vixen, and she wasn’t entirely comfortable in the role. It only charmed him more.

He stepped back to let her decide, much like he would when he was trying to get a new horse to trust him. No pressure.

It only took her a second to walk across the threshold with determination, as if she’d just made the decision with her entire, beautiful body. He smiled a little as he closed the door.

“Let me just duck in the bathroom, wash my face and get rid of this damned tie, and we’ll be off,” he said, attempting to reassure her that he wasn’t some creep planning on holding her hostage in his room. “I actually do know a very nice restaurant in the resort at the edge of town. Has a glass atrium and low lights so the desert sky shows through.”

“It sounds wonderful.” She caught his eye shyly, but the color in her cheeks suggested she was as excited as he was.

“That dress is amazing—I didn’t even recognize you at first,” he added.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

Her voice was driving him crazy. He turned toward the bathroom in case he was tempted to break his promise and did end up taking her hostage. When he came back out she was standing at the window, and he took a moment just to look at her. She had a graceful stance, a natural poise in the way her head was held high, but tilted just to the side. How beautiful those bare shoulders were. She was like something out of a painting, or a magazine, and he’d never known a woman like her, not for many years. Hesitation rose, but he forced it back.

“You’re perfect,” he heard himself say and immediately felt ridiculous. She turned to him, not saying a word. Her skin was creamy all the way down to that delicious bit of cleavage, and he watched as one sharp, white tooth bit into a bottom lip that shone with a light swipe of color. A black barrette held her hair back in a way he liked and it reminded him of the hairstyles from the sixties that he saw in some of his parents’ old pictures. He was itching to release it and thread his fingers through, messing it around her face.

Surprised by his nonsensical urges, he pulled himself together, then noticed she carried only a small purse.

“Did you bring a coat?” He cleared his throat, wondering why he was suddenly so hoarse.

“No. I didn’t think I’d need one…”

“The desert gets cold at night, Connecticut,” he teased, slipping his own suit coat off.

“Put this over your shoulders on the way to the restaurant. It’s not far from here, and you’ll be more comfortable.” He walked up behind her, sliding the coat over her shoulders, even as she protested.

“No, then you’ll be cold. I can just run upstairs and see if I have something to match…”

He left his hands on her shoulders, his face close to her ear. “I won’t be cold.”

She paused, not saying a word, but the tension strung hot between them, and Brett leaned in just a little closer.

“I like that scent you’re wearing—sweet, but not too much so. Fresh, but sort of musky, too, like new rain.”

He could see the pulse at the base of her neck picking up a quick, steady beat and her voice wavered when she spoke. “It’s a custom scent my parents had made for me years ago. I like it because I can wear it all the time, you know, just every day. It’s not overpowering.”

He smiled, shaking his head incredulously. “Says who?”

Taking a chance, he nuzzled her neck and grazed his lips over her ear. The tremor that shook her wasn’t from fear, unless he was radically misreading the body language between them.

Dinner was becoming less important very quickly. He was hard as a rock, his skin hot, need coursing through him like storm waters rushing over the dry desert floor in a rainstorm. It was quick and unexpected, but he welcomed it. Her response was balm for his masculinity, which had taken a beating today. He squeezed her shoulders slightly, pressed her a little closer so she could feel his arousal and waited for her response. He wouldn’t push, but he could hope.

When she lifted her arm and snaked her hand around his neck, he groaned and slid both hands around her waist, just holding her.

“Are you sure, Lauren?”

She looked up into his face, her gaze holding his, but she said nothing, as if struggling for the right words. He didn’t have them either, but then again he wasn’t big on words. Too many words caused problems, in his view. Touching told him all he needed to know. He ran a thumb over her cheek, examining the freckles that intrigued him so much, trying to reassure her.

“If you say no, it’s no—I mean that. Stop means stop. I’ll listen, okay? If you want to just leave and go to dinner, that’s okay, too,” he continued in a low voice, hoping like hell she wouldn’t turn toward the door.

He wanted her now, on the spot, but he’d let her set the pace if it killed him, and from the powerful need that was throbbing through him, it just might.

“It is pretty warm in here,” she said breathlessly, dropping her purse on the chair, turning and bringing both arms around his neck in such a way as to bring her entire torso in contact with his. Her head fit in underneath his chin as she snuggled against him. Massaging her shoulders, he felt her relax and loosen, all supple heat and subtle curves.

“Lauren,” he spoke her name on a whisper, getting used to the sound, slipping his hands up underneath the silk of her hair. Cradling her head, he lowered his lips to hers, tasting gently at first, inhaling the scent that pleased him down to his bones. When her fingers curled into his shoulders and her short nails bit slightly through his shirt, he growled, capturing her breath in a hard, passionate kiss that she met with a fire equaling his.

His tongue stroked hers in a lazy rhythm, and she stroked him back, opening wider, exploring as much as letting herself be explored. He ran his hands over her back, smoothing them over satin down to the curve of her ass and scrunched the material upward until he could reach what was underneath. When his fingertips discovered the thong and garters, he broke away from her mouth, his breath ragged. “Oh, sweet Jesus, Lauren…”

“You like it?”

“You could say that,” he joked breathlessly, pressing the hard length of his cock against her hip and watching her eyes widen.

His mouth was on hers again, hungry as he found the dress’s zipper and worked it down. Just as he was about to expose all kinds of goodies and take a nice, long look, she put a hand on either one of his arms, stopping him. His progress screeched to a stop, and he froze.

“What’s wrong?”

He’d told her he’d listen, and no meant no, and he stood by that. Real men had control—a lesson he lived by, one that was part of his heritage, just as his Dad had always said. Desert ranching was a tough lifestyle, and to be successful at it meant discipline, and Brett prided himself on his. Even so, every nerve ending in his body—some in particular—protested painfully.

She stepped back, out of his grasp, and he nearly moaned with the loss of the contact. How could he want someone so deeply that he’d only met a few hours ago?

She stood about five feet away, holding up the front of her dress with one hand, gazing at him with carnal intent that held him in a trance.

“Lauren?”

She smiled, and he felt relief swell—it wasn’t the smile of a woman who was calling it quits. Shrugging delicately, she let the dress fall to the floor and his blood turned thick and hot, his erection begging for release as she walked slowly toward him. The image of her standing there in those sexy undergarments would be with him until he died, he was sure of it.

LAUREN HAD NEVER FELT so wild. So incredibly, absolutely free. Sex with Wes had always been pleasant, ranging from tepid to tame. They hadn’t played games or experimented much. In Wes’s view, if it worked, why fix it? Of course, it had only usually worked for him.

Standing before Brett in her sexy lingerie, some inner part of herself was emerging after being buried for years, sleeping and waiting to awaken. It felt good—better than good. It wanted to stretch and explore.

As she stepped closer to the bed, she raked her eyes over Brett, taking in the flush of color above his clenched jaw, the way his big hands fisted into the coverlet. She paid particular attention to the impressive bulge in his pants. She caused that reaction in him, she realized with delight. Being here with him made her feel like she was capable of anything. Her new, no-wimps-allowed self was sexy and adventurous, and that started right here, right now.

He sat up straighter, reached out and snagged his arm around her lower back, arching her into him and closing his mouth around the tip of her breast, suckling hard through the material of the bra and drawing his tongue over the raspy material that covered the hard nub of her nipple. She gasped and moaned all at once.

“Take it off,” she commanded. “I want your mouth on me, and your hands…nothing in between us.”

“We have all night, darlin’…plenty of time for all the things I want to do to you…”

“What about what I want to do to you?” she dared to ask and cried out when he bit her lightly.

“There’ll be time for that, too,” he promised, and his smile broke through any doubts she had left. It was the first time he’d really smiled, and she was enchanted with how it lit up his eyes, softened his gruff demeanor.

Reaching up, he flicked the clasp on the bra open, the band of material fell to the floor between them. He paid close attention to her breasts, massaging and caressing her until she was sure she’d go mad. Her knees were actually shaking. However, patience wasn’t her strong suit—it had been a while, and the ache between her thighs insisted that they move faster.

“Brett…I need…I can’t take this for too much longer,” she managed to tell him on short, labored breaths as bolts of erotic sensations zoomed back and forth from her nipples to her core, burning up every incendiary inch in between.

He finally had mercy, and she nearly sagged backward as he released her. Twisting her by the waist he sat her on the side of the bed. He shucked his clothes in a nanosecond and stood before her proud and aroused. Her gaze drifting over him, she knew she’d made a very good decision.

“You’re so big.” She slapped a hand to her lips, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He smiled, taking a step closer, and reached out to touch her hair. “No man minds hearing that, doll.”

She laughed, feeling silly and sexy all at once. He was so handsome. Lean and hard, like she knew he would be, with just enough body hair to be manly. She imagined what it would be like to rub her breasts across the wiry hair on his chest, and nearly sighed again knowing all she had to do was ask—or take—and her wish could come true.

Unwilling to wait much longer for what she wanted, she followed her instincts and pushed backward on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow and letting her legs fall apart, the thin strap of the thong her only cover.

She was rewarded by the fierce hunger in his expression, the twitch of that enormous, lovely cock. She smiled, discovering that she enjoyed tempting and teasing, and wanted to see how far she could push her luck.

Easing one hand down between her thighs, she pulled the thong away, showing him everything for just one second until she covered herself with her hand, and flicked just the right spot, eliciting a moan from both of them.

Her head fell back, she was dizzy with pleasure. Who could have known she would be so uninhibited? She certainly hadn’t.

She didn’t have time to reflect on the issue, though, as the edge of the mattress sank beneath his weight and he slipped his own fingers beneath the thong, replacing hers, settling himself between her legs. Easing her legs farther apart with his wide shoulders, he took the thin strap of the thong in his teeth and snapped it, freeing her, and leaving her completely exposed to his view.

Lord, he took his time looking, and she was on fire from it. Being so intimately inspected was a turn on she never would have expected.

“You’re perfect,” he repeated his comment from earlier. He ran a finger down the center of her soaked flesh and then shocked her in the best possible way as he slid his fingers deep inside, filling her quickly and unexpectedly, her entire body an ongoing ripple of pleasure.

Hardly giving her time to breathe, he joined in with his mouth, working some magic with his fingers inside and maneuvering into a full-on, intimate kiss that shot straight through her. She arched up, blind with the sensation of it as he drew her clit into his mouth and sucked until rapid-fire orgasms had her bucking against him, flying over her body like sparks. It was fantastic, but still she reached for something more, something deeper.

Twisting from beneath him she flipped over on all fours. He followed her signals, moving on to his back and lying beneath her. She lowered slowly, the delicious anticipation of what she was about to do rifling through her. Everything was the first time, and she was letting go like never before.

Moving experimentally, she enjoyed how her nipples scraped against his skin and groaned in pure erotic bliss. He encouraged her, guiding her with his hands planted on her hips, helping her find his mouth as his fingers returned to fill her.

Setting the rhythm she needed, she rocked over him, his oral ministrations working in concert with her own movements. The resulting climax claimed her within seconds. It was bone deep and pure, shuddering though her entire body as she cried out, riding his tongue and fingers until she collapsed from the wonderful strain of it.

“Brett…oh my God…” she panted, drained and exhausted in the most lovely way.

He brought her against him, snuggling her face in his shoulder. While he rubbed her back, she stretched like a cat, aware of the pressure of his erection against her lower stomach. She was anticipating that, and planned to make his patience and creativity worth the wait.

Pushing upward, she looked down into his eyes as she trapped his erection between her thighs and moved in just such a way that he groaned, twisting beside her. He had wonderful laugh lines carved into his face, she noted—probably from so much time in the sun, and what she hoped was a happy life. He had some stubble, and she rubbed her cheek against it like a kitten seeking a pat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes dark with pent-up passion, his body tight and hard.

“Brett?”

“Hmm?” As aroused as he was, he seemed preoccupied with running his hands over her, smoothing them over every inch of her skin. She reached up, tipping his face to hers, looking at him meaningfully.

“The condoms are in my bag.”