Her Risk To Take Read online

  She moved her hand lower and found him already hard. If he didn’t start thinking about her this way after tonight then they were doomed and she may as well brace herself for a broken heart. She started stroking him, tip to root, and shivered in anticipation. She’d spent a lot of time imagining this. He seemed to hold his breath. She used her tongue on his back, tracing skin she’d seen but never tasted. Then, just when she thought he was going to say “what the hell are you doing?” he put his hand over hers and increased the pressure of her grip. He groaned and thrust against her palm, and she could feel his whole body trembling. “I’m dreaming.”

  Sarah had never been sexually aggressive in her life, but she wasn’t a virgin, either. She’d had boyfriends in college, but no one had made her feel as alive as this guy did, or as uncertain. She’d seen other women looking at him whenever they went into town for supplies. He was hot, and he wasn’t a monk. She wasn’t prepared to watch him end up with someone else just because she hadn’t had the nerve to make the first move. As first moves went, this was a doozy.

  She kissed his back, scraped her teeth over the smooth tanned skin, loving the feel of his unyielding muscles against hers. She could feel his taut body straining, hear the quickness of his breath as she stroked him faster. She nibbled his shoulder. The guy wasn’t helping at all, almost as if he was afraid to break the spell. She was fine with that, the idea of setting the pace, of controlling this first encounter was exhilarating. She reached behind her and grabbed the condom, ripped it open carefully, rolled it down his length, growing wet with anticipation as she eased him onto his back.

  Springs groaned as she straddled him.

  “Sarah, I—”

  He was about to tell her he didn’t want this, and she didn’t want to hear it. She put her finger on his mouth, and he was immediately quiet. She rubbed against him until he was concentrating on her rather than talking or thinking. “I want you, Caleb Landon. Inside me. Please, say you want me, too.”

  His hands gripped her thighs so hard there were going to be bruises. She eased just the tip of him inside her, and he growled as she rose back up—teasing, definitely. Taunting, possibly. Daring him to take what she was offering—to take a risk on them.

  She moved her fingers lower, cupping him, massaging him until she felt him quivering beneath her thighs.

  “Don’t you want me, Cal?” she asked, circling him again with her other hand. The words were supposed to be a challenge, but came out more like a plea. His hands finally moved, grabbing her by the ass and bringing her closer. He sat up as he pulled her down onto him; her eyes closed as pleasure blasted her. She sank down, taking him deep, and cried out as her body exploded. She came that easily.

  That’s what happened when you went years fantasizing about a guy and finally got him where you wanted him.

  He started kissing her then, not moving although she could feel him thick and hot, filling her. He ran his tongue over her collarbone, then lower, capturing her nipple in his mouth. She wasn’t big, but he plumped her breast with one hand and laved the sensitive nub with his tongue. Switching sides, he drove her crazy with the need to move, even as he held her immobile against him.

  She squirmed as pleasure whipped through her. He growled as she ground against him, clutching him with her inner muscles when he wouldn’t give her the movement she craved. Finally, fingers digging into soft flesh, he thrust into her. She threw back her head at the wonder of it, holding onto his broad shoulders, wishing she could see him, knowing that if the lights were on Cal wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye, much less screw her senseless.

  She intended to make that change.

  He shifted beneath her, anchored her to him as he got onto his knees and followed her down so she was on her back and he was cradled between her thighs. He spread her knees wide and thrust deeper, harder.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders with each movement.

  She’d expected Cal to be a gentle, controlled lover—he did everything else with such slow reverence, especially around her. He treated her like she was sweet sixteen and never been kissed. But this was wild, this was ferocious, and she was right there with him, nails scraping his skin, striving to get even closer as he pounded into her body with no more reverence than a stag rutting in the forest.

  She loved it. The pleasure was building again. The tingling anticipation and hunger for a climax spreading and making her wild and feverish as she clung, sweat making his body slick and hard to hold on to. She felt her orgasm build. Like a slow rolling tsunami it swelled higher and then crashed over her just as Cal stiffened above her and poured himself into a yell that seemed to rip free from his soul. Her heart pounded, her pulse raced. She wrapped her legs around his waist even as he pulled out and lay on top of her.

  Slowly the silence built. Thick and deafening.

  Crap.

  She didn’t want to hear his regrets. She started kissing him again, slowly, tenderly, hoping he wasn’t about to tell her this whole thing had been a massive mistake.

  * * *

  CAL HAD THOUGHT he was dreaming. He often dreamed about Sarah. Sexy, naked, X-rated dreams that would get his ass kicked and fired if Nat ever found out—not that he had any intention of sharing those dreams with either of Sarah’s brothers. Dreams he had no business having, even in his subconscious. But he couldn’t control them and had learned to live with them, knowing it was all he’d ever have so he may as well enjoy them.

  So, until she’d straddled him in the darkness, and he’d touched the softness of her inner thighs, which had felt a million times more incredible than he’d imagined possible, he’d believed he was having a really fabulous fucking dream.

  Then she’d spoken. Don’t you want me, Cal?

  Want her?

  Want her?

  His heart raced as he lay on top of her. He must be crushing her, but he didn’t dare move, terrified of what she’d say. He closed his eyes. He’d wanted her for years, but she was his best friend’s little sister and an upstanding member of the community. He was nothing but an ex-con cowboy with blood on his hands. Enough people hated him and were more than willing to destroy anything in his life he cared about—if he gave them the chance. No way was he giving anyone the chance to hurt any of the Sullivans, especially not Sarah.

  Her warmth curled around him as her chest rose and fell. Damp skin clung to his. Her hair brushed his cheek, the scent fresh and clean, like a pine forest in winter.

  Shit.

  Sarah was not some woman who’d come on to him in a bar. She wasn’t some no-name one-nighter, which was all he usually allowed himself. She was one of his best friends. Christ, who was he kidding? She meant more to him than he wanted to acknowledge, even to himself.

  What the hell had he done?

  Taken her with all the finesse of a teenage virgin—although to be fair she had crawled into his bed and wrapped her fingers around his morning glory. God, even the memory had him growing hard again. He went to pull away, but her lips found the corner of his eye and the caress was so sweet, so loving he couldn’t move. It held him in place as surely as iron bars ever had. Her tongue touched his ear, drawing out a shiver that was almost painful. Her hands ran down his back, fingers splayed over his hips and digging into his ass. He was planted between her legs, and the need to have her one more time crawled through his blood like an addiction, begging him to do it again.

  He was so screwed.

  He pulled back and dealt with the condom. Grabbed another from a box inside the drawer. They weren’t even his. He assumed Ryan had used this place to bring back women before Cal had moved in this summer. The sell-by-date was good though. He’d checked. Talk about optimistic.

  “For a moment, I thought you were going to run away…” He heard a smile in her voice; he also heard the uncertainty. She should be running away. Fast and furious.

  He wasn’t sure what she was doing here, besides the obvious. There was no way he could give her anything except a little pleasure. B
ut he couldn’t tell her that. No way could he hurt her. The thought of putting disappointment in this woman’s eyes made his gut ache. She was the single smartest, hardest-working person he’d ever met. That included every cowboy, rancher, lumberjack, farmer or goddamned cop on the planet. She never stopped. Either at the hospital, here at the ranch, or helping take care of her niece and the family. She never took a vacation. Never dated. Didn’t have time to date. Damn. No wonder she was horny.

  He could give her this. As long as no one knew, as long as she didn’t become a target.

  He wanted to turn on the lamp but didn’t want her looking at him, seeing his tattoos, a constant reminder of what he’d done and where he’d been. Of the kind of man he really was. He didn’t want to watch desire fade to revulsion. He pulled the curtain open and let the moon light up the room with a faint silver glow. She lay on the bed, legs spread, hair in a messy cloud on the covers as she looked at him. Not even vaguely self-conscious or shy.

  Not what he’d expected.

  A smile curved her lips, and he had to shake his head to prove he really wasn’t dreaming. Maybe someone had slipped something in his beer? Whatever it was, he’d happily buy a lifetime’s supply.

  They’d have to keep this a secret. They lived in the middle of nowhere, isolated and secluded. No one had to know. She didn’t need to be tainted by association as long as they kept this between the two of them. He picked up her foot and kissed the inside of her ankle. She jolted. He’d forgotten she was ticklish. He trailed his mouth up her limbs. She was small, perfect. Slim, curved, beautiful, naked and, god, really here. His blood started pounding again, but it was more incredible this time, because he knew it was real, it was actually happening. She’d come to him. He’d never expected her to, but she’d come to him, and he was torn between wanting to yell his happiness to the world and sending her away so none of his tarnish rubbed off on her.

  Her eyes were a cool blue-gray in the daylight, but right now they were dark as midnight as she watched him come closer and closer to a part of her body he wanted to taste.

  She leaned up on her elbows to watch as he dipped his tongue along the sensitive skin at the seam of her leg. His skin was dark against the pure white of hers. The scent of her filled his nostrils and blew his mind. The taste of her flooded his mouth, and he knew he’d never get the essence out of his head. It would drive him crazy forever, just knowing her flavor. The thought had him sinking his tongue deeper, loving her, teasing her, pressing against her clit until her jaw dropped, her head fell back, and she gasped. “Oh, God. Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t intend to.

  Not yet.

  He shifted her up the bed until her knees were draped over his shoulders, and he was eating her up with small bites and licks until she began trembling on the edge of release. He wanted to torment her for hours, but her hands crept between his legs, and she found him again, her fingers strong and agile—knowledgeable. His eyes crossed, and he almost came on the spot.

  She was nothing like he’d imagined. She was infinitely more.

  He lay her down and explored further, sweeping her bellybutton with his tongue before moving higher to feast on her breasts. He cupped and licked, watching her nipples tighten in the moonlight. Her hips undulated as her hands stroked him. He wished they could do this forever. Didn’t want to think about why they couldn’t.

  She grabbed the condom from wherever he’d dropped it. Ripped it and rolled it over him with practiced fingers.

  “You’ve done that before,” he said.

  She cocked a brow at what had to be jealousy darkening his tone. “Every time I’ve ever had sex, Cal. I do not want to be up on that pedestal. It’s a cold and lonely place up there. I’m a flesh and blood woman like any other and want a flesh and blood man to keep me warm. Think you can deal with that?”

  It was cold down in the gutter too, and maybe for right now they could just enjoy the moment.

  “The idea of another man touching you…” He closed his mouth. The thought of Sarah with anyone else made him crazy, but that admission gave away too much about how he truly felt. One day she was going to fall for and marry some other guy. He’d have to deal with it then, but he didn’t have to deal with it now. Instead, he pushed against her, working his way inside, filling her until she gasped and clutched, those fingers digging urgently into his backside. She squirmed around him, and it felt amazing.

  “Enough?” he asked.

  “No. No!”

  He drove forward until he was planted to the hilt, surrounded by wet molten heat that made him want to weep. They were face to face, his eyes lined up with her eyes. His lips lined up with her lips.

  He’d never kissed her.

  This was the second time he’d been inside her, but he hadn’t kissed her yet—not properly. He stopped moving, dipped his head, and his heart shattered when she rose up to meet him, kissing him gently, reverently, like he was special. He kissed her back, keeping it light, exploring, committing her shape and taste to memory. She started moving her hips, urging him on, but he was stubborn and slowed it right down until she was as languid as melted wax, and then he finally started moving again. Slowly, surely, driving her up, increasing the pace, making her cry out, making her beg before he finally let her fly. And he was right there with her, soaring off the edge of the cliff into darkness, knowing he was going to crash and burn, but not willing to swap this moment for anything this side of heaven.

  Nothing would ever be the same again.

  And in that moment, he didn’t care.

  Chapter Three

  One month later…

  SARAH WAS ENTRANCED by the patterns of ink that snaked from Cal’s elbow down to his wrist. He’d had the tattoos professionally redone not long ago, no color, just dark indigo against suntanned skin. She wasn’t exactly sure what the tattoos were of, because he refused to let her see them up close. At some point during the night she’d left the light on in the bathroom and now it filtered through, and she could make out scales, talons, and possibly a fish on his left arm.

  It was early. He was asleep—exhausted after hours of lovemaking. Sometimes it was as if they were trying to make up for all the years they’d missed. Other times it was as if they were cramming a lifetime of loving into a few short weeks.

  She’d come to his bed every chance she’d got over the past month. There were moments when she thought he was going to turn her away, but he hadn’t done so yet. He was getting a little less reserved around her, starting to trust her more, but he still wasn’t willing to bring their relationship out into the open. Like most cowboys Cal was stubborn, and like most horses he could be led, but he sure as heck couldn’t be pushed. Patience and persistence were what she needed, and she had both in spades. She leaned closer to trail her lips over the prominent bone at his wrist and worked her way up his arm.

  “What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

  “Enjoying your tattoos.”

  He tried to jerk his arm out of reach, but she stopped him.

  “Please don’t. I want to see.”

  His lips pinched together but after a long, tense moment he capitulated and held his arms stiff at his side. As relaxed as one of the ranch dogs on the scent of a rabbit. She sat up and dragged his arm across her lap. “What’s this?” The lighting still wasn’t great, and it was hard to make out.

  Cal’s gaze wandered, and he seemed to be having a hard time concentrating on her question, probably because she was naked. She stroked one sinuous rope of blue scales that coiled around his flesh. She followed the trail with her fingers and raised his arm to see that it ended in an arrowhead tail.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s the dragon’s tail.”

  “Dragon?” She was surprised. She hadn’t imagined practical Cal Landon would have something as mythical as a dragon etched on his skin.

  “What’s wrong with a dragon?” he asked in a low growl.

  She laughed and found the dragon’s head. It was a fierce l
ooking creature. She kissed it and moved on to explore what looked like carp in a pool beneath the mountains. “Did you do the design yourself?”

  “Me?” He gave a slight smile. “Stick men are the limit of my artistic abilities.” He cocked a brow. “This time I left it to the professionals.” He tried to pull away, but she held tight, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She knew it was hard for him to let people in, but she wanted him to know he could trust her.

  “They’re beautiful, Cal.”

  “I got them to replace the ones I got in prison.” His tone was hard with self-recrimination in case she hadn’t got the reference the first go around.

  She held his gaze. “I liked those ones too.”

  He blinked.

  “What? Why wouldn’t I like them?” She was naked in his bed, and he still had this holier-than-thou image of her. Crazy. “You know what else those tattoos are? They’re hot.”

  His eyes widened as she trailed his arm over her thigh. She knew she was shocking him but figured he deserved it for treating her like she might faint at the least little reminder of his past. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known him before he’d gone to jail, and all these years afterward. She wasn’t some death-row groupie. She was a smart intelligent woman. She decided to shock him further. “I always wanted a tattoo, but couldn’t decide exactly what I wanted…or where I wanted it. Maybe here?” She touched her outer thigh with his warm hand. “Or here?” She shifted until he was touching her somewhere much more intimate. She laughed as he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. One way or another she was going to knock down this cowboy’s walls and make him lose his reserve. Maybe then he’d finally understand that she loved every damn inch of him, tattoos, past, and all.

  * * *

  CAL SLEPT IN so he skipped breakfast. He didn’t want the horses to go hungry.

  Being late was getting to be a habit, one he wasn’t proud of. He’d add that sucker to the list. Sarah had been coming to the cottage most nights for the past month, so neither of them had been getting much sleep. He kept intending to tell her to stay away. Had braced himself that second night to be aloof and unwelcoming, until she’d taken off her coat and revealed she was stark naked underneath.