The Cowboy Rode a Harley Page 8

  Setting her foot down, she could almost hear the music of the upcoming recital in her head. She completed a couple of turns on the ball of her foot, reliving the fluid way her body felt when she was in Stephen’s arms.

  She imagined dancing before him, a man who made her go completely hot. She lifted her arms up, gypsy-style gestures working from her fingertips down to her wrists, and undulating through her arms. Her nipples tightened, and her breath grew shallow. She envisioned him coming up behind her and making her ride him as he’d said. Her once-limber body tensed in a hunger so driving that she moaned, imagining him spreading her and pushing himself into her center. Gillian pressed her fingers down against her pulsing slit, wanting to feel Stephen there, opening to him.

  No, this wasn’t possible. She had to stop this torture of her imagination. Focus, she reminded herself. She tried the steps of her favorite ballroom dance routine, so unlike those of the years she’d spent in ballet. She refused to think of herself as a quitter or sell-out. Classical ballet and ballroom dancing were on very opposite ends of the dance spectrum. To some. But not to her. Dance was dance was dance. Movement from the heart and soul that she poured outward into her body and tried to help other students feel and deliver. She stopped, unable to feel. Suddenly, she realized she didn’t feel the flare of passion in dancing the tango that she once experienced.

  Jesus, where had her muse gone? Perhaps she was just overwrought. This had been a long day. She stared at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Her face was flushed and droplets of perspiration dripped down her neck; she breathed in shallow breaths.

  There was a place within her where passion brewed volcanic. Gillian wrapped her arms around her middle, closing her eyes and inhaling a scent that she could recall with precision. “Stephen,” she murmured into the empty dance studio.

  * * *

  On the ride to Evermore, she vividly recalled the landmarks that Stephen had provided. Turning through the wide gate with the sign overhead, she remembered coming out here in the back of a pickup truck filled with her high school friends. There’d been a 4-H celebration for Cory’s award in raising lambs, and then an end-of-year social. But Cory’s twin brother, Rory, had been the man of the hour back then; her girlfriends were hot on his trail, completely enamored by him. She had seen Stephen as Cory’s older, cooler, motocross-riding brother, but her friend had five brothers and they all spun her head. None of them were what she’d considered to be in her league, they being wild as the wind and she, not so much.

  Her GPS alerted her she’d missed a turn. She slowed, pulling off the shoulder of the road, backed up and swung her car around. There was a narrow gravel road leading up an incline that made her car bounce if she went over twenty miles an hour.

  In a clearing sat Stephen’s house, framed by tall oaks, cedars, maples and some pines. On either side of his driveway grew fields of wild flowers. His home sat overlooking a ridge with a vista looking down on miles of grassland.

  Gillian parked alongside a black truck, getting out with a bag of puppy necessities she’d picked up on the way and the dessert she’d made. She’d never thought of Stephen in term of automobiles. A Harley fit his personality, but then so did this truck, if it was his.

  Just to the side of the house there was a detached garage, painted red with a metal roof. She followed a paved walking path along the front of his driveway. The façade of the house was irregularly-cut stone with a steep metal roof. Several large panels of glass spanned the front exterior wall. The house had interesting wide angles, a roof that spread out low with several levels, reminding her of a Frank Lloyd Wright design. In East Texas.

  The front door opened, and he stepped out onto the porch with Chance in his hand. Her heart beat so fast it was ready to burst out of her chest. Coming up to the front steps, she shyly peeked up at him, slowly taking in the sight of him at this close range. His damp hair was combed back, and the shirt he wore stretched thin over his broad shoulders and chest.

  Chance whined as Stephen held him out from his chest. “He’s got lots to say, I’ll tell you.”

  “He looks like a million bucks,” she whispered. Chance had a baby-blue collar around his tiny neck. The puppy was snowy white, no longer grey.

  “I’m glad you approve.” Stephen held out his hand. “Here, let me help.”

  He took the glass baking dish and she reached for the puppy. Laying her palm against his, she felt a jolt that flew to her belly, pulling her toward him in more ways than one.

  As she petted Chance, her arm brushed along Stephen’s forearm covered with banded muscle. She struggled to frame her thoughts into sensible conversation, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate with her brain.

  All she could do was gulp and refrain from openly gawking at him. “You’ve got a pierced ear,” she said, then realized it sounded like an accusation. “Stud with stud. Very sexy.”

  “A commonality between us, Miss Sinclair,” he murmured. with a wicked grin stretching across his face. She immediately got his meaning, and a burst of fire rioted over her skin.

  In her dreams she’d opened her thighs to him, and he’d licked her until she screamed his name. He bit the corner of his lip. Jesus, he tempted her. She now understood why he kept asking her to stop doing that.

  This teasing lure of a man dressed in jeans was oh-too-sexy for words. She pulled a strand of her own hair, desperate to gain some self-control. Once inside, she’d be an easy target for his smoking-hot looks and words. Just feet away, she didn’t feel any safer as he gestured for her to go inside.

  “Welcome to my home. I hope your expectations are in the moderate range. You’ll soon see entertaining is not part of my skill set.” He pushed open the door, giving her space to pass, but as she moved past him she couldn’t resist coming into contact with his titanium abs.

  “Amazing how beautiful and lush this spot is and that you’re isolated up here…considering how many of your family live out this way.”

  “The one consolation is that we all understand the need for distance and privacy. For the most part.”

  She pressed Chance to her chest, hoping to refocus on the endearing, innocent puppy, and not her dark, naughty cravings. Her breasts swelled from excitement at the feel of Stephen’s hands on the small of her back. The longing to feel his hands on her body tortured her senses.

  The door closed and he came up behind her, pressing his body into her hips. He set the bag and baking dish on the table near the entryway. “So sweet of you to bring toys for your baby,” he whispered. “And the dessert smells delectable.”

  She tried unsuccessfully to swallow, unable to clear the lump in her throat. “You’ve got it all under control, it looks like,” she croaked.

  “Hardly. More like out-of-control.” His voice was low, seductive, and caressed her skin. Her mouth wanted to contradict him. This was a man who was very much in control of himself, no matter what his reputation for hard living. Stephen’s strong, steel arms encircled her, low down on her waist. He pulled her back against him, his hips riding above the curl of her buttocks. He dipped his hips downward. She shuddered as his erection rubbed against her backside. His fingers massaged her arms, he nuzzled the crook of her neck, and she had to remind herself to be careful with the puppy.

  “We should probably put the dessert in the refrigerator. I think I should put Chance down. I don’t want to hurt him.” She sounded like she was babbling and she rubbed her fingers over her forehead, grasping for self-control.

  “No. I don’t want you to be distracted, either.” He took Chance from her arms and moved away from her, taking her free hand, weaving their fingers together, and she quickly picked up the chocolate dessert.

  They walked into his living room. “Wow. What a huge fireplace.” She’d never seen one this large and made out of stone similar to that on the front of his house. It took up one wall of the living room. Almost. A bar was on one side and built-in bookcases on the other. The whole room was immense, with open beams, hardwood
floors covered by cowhide rugs, and a large leather sectional that five people could easily sleep on. The back wall was all glass overlooking a pool. Little other furniture, besides a few tables, was inside the room. He led her toward the sofa, and on the side was a dog crate with a bright, blue pillow and several toys inside. He placed Chance on the floor, and the puppy rolled onto his back.

  “Carolina said he needs to have a place to feel safe. She gave me a list of items and I bought everything she suggested.”

  “Looks like, and then some,” Gillian whispered.

  “Give me the dessert,” he said.

  Nervously, Gillian nodded, meeting his gaze, and she became aware that his innocent command did something to her. She bent down and placed Chance inside the black metal crate. The puppy settled on the pillow, and she noticed there was also a matching blanket. “I’m amazed a dog could have more items than some babies.”

  He shook his head. “I think that’s why those pet stores do so well. It’s too easy to fill up a shopping basket. Would you like something to drink? I’ve got dinner ready, if you’re hungry.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Nothing fancy. Take-out from the Italian restaurant that was next door to the pet shop. They do a mean spaghetti and meatballs. I also ordered some other things.”

  “I’m starved. I didn’t eat all day.” She didn’t want to recount the butterflies in her stomach, or her telephone conversation with Mr. Fitzgerald. Gillian had no idea how to say that she was flying to California next week. At this moment, it didn’t even seem important.

  “Great. We can grab plates in the kitchen and dig in.”

  The kitchen was on the other side of the fireplace, another open space with a tiled breakfast bar. Everything inside was modern and sleek. This space didn’t bring to mind a bachelor pad. Her kitchen was last remodeled by Nana in the eighties. Formica counters, an old gas range, the icemaker didn’t work, and the faucet leaked. This was the Taj Mahal compared to her apartment kitchen.

  Stephen handed her a plate and proceeded to serve her small helpings of the various things he’d brought home. Antipasto, spaghetti, stuffed shells, and chicken parmesan. More than she’d be able to eat, and her stomach clenched at the sight of Stephen’s bunched shoulder and back muscles.

  He opened the refrigerator. She’d never seen such an expanse of white, glowing space. He placed the dessert she’d made next to a pitcher of water, a carton of orange juice, and soda. There wasn’t a condiment in sight. A dozen eggs were in a wire basket in the back.

  “I’ve never seen such a clean refrigerator,” she said. “Your whole place is incredible.”

  “Well, I warned you. I don’t keep much around. It’s way too easy to drop in on family around here, and eat from people who know how to cook. I can make a sandwich and grill, but that’s it.”

  “Smells delicious,” she said, admiring the swell of chest muscle under his shirt.

  “So do you.” He smiled over at her as he piled food high on his plate. For a man with an appetite, it must take an effort to remain blissfully unaware of how to prepare food. Even Haden knew how to cook, but then again, it wasn’t the most edible food she’d ever tasted.

  “Water or soda…or juice?” he asked, skimming his finger along her cheek. She inhaled, suddenly less hungry. For food.

  “Water, please.” She watched him open a cabinet with neatly-arranged glasses and plates. “Nothing speaks of the disorganized bachelor you made yourself out to be.” Instead, he had it together on many points.

  “I don’t think it’s the outer trappings so much. This is meaningless nonsense. If I told you my sister ordered most of it with my credit card, would you be disappointed?”

  “No. You’re right. It’s just stuff.”

  Not hard to understand, since her viewpoint and Stephen’s were similar. They both were looking to other horizons, and yeah, the tangibles were simply the things that kept them imprisoned. No wonder he was unimpressed with so many things other people found captivating.

  She took a step to help him carry the glasses and, as soon as their bodies came into contact, a heated glimmer swam across his blue eyes. His nostrils flared, and he gripped the glass tight.

  “Thirsty?” he murmured, his unwavering gaze setting her on fire.

  Running her hand up his arm, she knew exactly what she wanted. “Parched. Starving. For you.”

  With Stephen’s arm pressed up against her waist, heat radiating from his body seared through her dress. He set the glass down on the counter as she traced a pattern across his skin. This didn’t have to be complicated, she told herself. Just touching. Body-to-body contact. She could hardly breathe, and they’d not even kissed.

  “Gillian? You know how much I want you.” Stephen’s deep voice sent a shiver racing over her body. She pressed closer to him, into the body-scorching heat that came off his skin.

  “Should I stop?” she asked, wanting to drive him as out of his head as she was at that moment. By instinct, she swiped her tongue across her lips.

  His hands were on her, pinning her to the counter. “No. That’s the issue. I don’t want you to stop. And if we continue, in a few minutes I won’t be able to stop. “

  “Then don’t. Stop.” She leaned into him, rubbing her cheek against his beard, a whisper away from his mouth. She continued to run her hands up his arms, over his biceps, and reached up inside the sleeves of his shirt. His shoulders were hard curves, and she followed the path his muscles cut into his skin. She dragged her hands back down his arms, and he groaned, low and deep.

  This was all new to her, bringing a man to the point of need. Before, she’d kept herself in check, not wanting to risk seeming to offer more than she was willing to give. His expressions enticed her, and with excruciating slowness she flexed her hips, grinding into his.

  “Beautiful baby. What do you want?” he asked.

  “I think we both know that.”

  “Gillian. Once we go into my bedroom, if you decide you’d rather not, I’d be so over the edge. How sure are you that this is what you want…with me?”

  Ache and need besieged her, left her reeling. Between her legs she could feel a wave of pulsations erupt, and a burgeoning greed for him to fill her. His breath on her skin only confirmed this was what she wanted…what she needed. He was the one she’d waited for all her twenty-two years. She wasn’t holding him to forever, just this moment in time.

  “No question in my mind. I want you inside me. I want to ride you just like you said.”

  “Sweet Lord, you’re driving me to the edge.”

  “What should we do about the food?”

  No sooner had the words been uttered than he opened a drawer, deftly bringing out a roll of aluminum foil. “Give me a hand. I’m sure later we’ll be starved. With what I want to do with you.” He shook his head. “I intend to make you very, very hungry.”

  He ripped off sheets of foil while she wrapped their plates. They both covered the take-out containers, working side by side, without touching. If he was anything like her, they had to keep apart or the inevitable would happen. Perhaps on the counter.

  After filling his refrigerator with Italian take-out, he poured a glass of ice water. “I have wine, if you prefer.”

  “Water is better. There, I guess that’s all of it,” she said.

  He faced her with an expression more serious than she’d seen. “Disregard what I said earlier. I’ll go as slow as you need. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this an amazing experience for you.”

  She wasn’t about to ask for a run-down on what they would do. Even with girlfriends, she wasn’t one of the women who shared what her body was going through, and she tended to turn off from the details of what occurred between her friends and their lovers. God, was she glad. Had she known what he’d done with Lori, she’d be out of her mind.

  “I trust you. I want this with you.”

  “Do you want to listen to music, or take a walk?”

  The pied piper couldn’
t have been any more provocative or entrancing. His body next to hers had her on full alert, sparks of pleasure erupting each time they touched.

  “How about you show me your bedroom.”

  His eyes widened, off-set by the curl of his lips, and his deep inhalation. “Come with me, darlin’.” They walked through his house, past sleeping Chance in his crate.

  His home spread out on one level and his bedroom took up the far end. Another stone wall, an angled ceiling, open beams, and so large. There were candles of all sizes. Brand new, from what she could tell.

  “Your bed is so wide.” She stood by the corner of the mattress, uncertain what she should do or how to act seductive, turning him all the way on.

  “No wider than yours. It’s a low profile. That might make it seem so vast.” He picked up a box of matches, struck one and proceeded to light the candles.

  “Perhaps you’re right. Look at the view you’ve got going on.” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  It was still light outside, and off in the distance she could see a herd of cattle moving in unison. Puffs of dried earth lifted as they ran. A massive body of moving beasts. The sight of Stephen reflected in the glass excited her, and also unnerved her. He was entirely too gorgeous and then, in one swift motion, he was shirtless.

  Her breasts tightened, making her nipples harden. She turned around, her gaze following the smooth expanse of his skin. His tattoo appeared darker, more erotic, tonight.

  “Your skin is more tanned than the last time.”

  He moved slowly toward her. “I work without a shirt when it gets too hot to bear.”

  “That’s what I feel like right now,” she blurted out, and his arched brow seemed to give her options.