The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) Read online

  Her wish was about to be granted.

  The umbrella in place he grasped her hips, pulling her into him, then placing himself at her drooling entrance he touched, pushed, withdrew, then clenching his teeth he plunged forward.

  The fullness of his cock stunned her, and as he pumped with slow, hard, methodical thrusts, she could feel her body surrendering and her mind turning off.

  There was only him, his hands clutching her hips, then her fleshy cheeks, then her hips again, his concrete hardness filling her, demanding she capitulate. His strokes were determined and purposeful, his lips danced across her breasts, sucking and biting, then licking and gently kissing. Hot whispered words breathed themselves in her ear, and her fingers clung to the hard sinewy muscles gracing his arms.

  His lips were devouring her neck when she felt it, the balloon bubbling up inside her. Thrusts that burned across her clit were catapulting her forward, and when she heard him groaning, commanding her to come, there was no pause or hesitation, just the sparkling, shuddering climax rattling through her.

  Clint could feel his heart thumping against his chest. He felt dizzy and drained, and pins and needles were dancing deliciously through his limbs. Collapsing next to her he tried to catch his breath; he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her she was adorable and sexy and incredible, but it was impossible. For a moment he thought was going to pass out, but slowly his breath returned, his heart began to calm, and the pins and needles were gone.

  “Are you okay, Clint?”

  Her voice was as sweet as maple syrup, and as softly warm as a summer breeze in the early evening. Opening his eyes he found she was staring down at him.

  “I think so,” he murmured.

  “You scared me, I thought you were having a heart attack,” she purred.

  “I think I might have,” he replied, managing a slight smile. “You? Are you okay?”

  “I am so much more than okay,” she sighed.

  “Darlin’, could you pass me some water? Should be on the nightstand.”

  Looking up she saw the bottle, and reaching across his body she retrieved it, twisting open the cap for him. After a couple of swallows he handed it back to her, then took a deep breath.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yep. Like I’ve said to you, twice I think, damn, woman,” he grinned.

  “Seriously, are you okay?” she repeated.

  “I am, I’m like you, so much better than okay.”

  “Why did you, uh, kind of collapse like that?”

  “Because, beautiful lady, it’s been over two years,” he breathed.

  “Two years since you’ve…”

  “Since I’ve made love to a gorgeous woman like you,” he admitted. “I guess I was starvin’.”

  “But why?” she asked.

  “That is a story for another day. Come on, come lay down and let me hold you.”

  Placing the bottle back on the nightstand she curled up next to him.

  I’m not going to wait for another day. I can’t. I’m going to find out one way or another what happened to you, and sinking into his arms she closed her eyes to nap.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dinner was not what he’d expected, and he’d found it a delightful change from the norm. Sliced chicken and diced vegetables had been sauteed in coconut milk, tumeric and ginger, and served over jasmine rice. It wasn’t just flavorful, it was spicy and completely different to his usual fare. Leaning back in his chair he beamed at her across the table.

  “That was outta this world. You’re not just sexy as hell, you can cook. How are you still single?” he chuckled.

  “Just lucky I guess,” she quipped.

  “You are such a brat,” he laughed. “Thank you, darlin’, I loved it.”

  “I’m so glad,” she grinned. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “So you’re a risk taker in the kitchen as well,” he remarked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you flip houses and jump horses,” he exclaimed, “and go sneakin’ around windows.”

  “Okay, okay,” she blushed.

  “Dessert?” he asked hopefully.

  “Ooops. Honestly, I’m not really a dessert person so I didn’t make anything,” she cringed. “Am I bad?”

  “Hell no,” he exclaimed, “though I might use it as an excuse to give you a little spankin’ later.”

  “Just a little one?” she challenged.

  “Careful,” he warned. “You don’t wanna be flickin’ a red flag at a bull.”

  “You’re right,” she laughed.

  “I have somethin’ in my freezer,” he said standing up. “Apple-blueberry crumble from Tom’s. It’ll take two minutes in the microwave.”

  “That sounds good even to me,” she said, collecting the plates and clearing the table.

  A few minutes later they were sharing the delicious dessert. He dolloped a scoop of vanilla ice cream over the top, then watched her as she scooped up spoonful after spoonful.

  “For someone who doesn’t like desserts you’re doin’ well.”

  “It’s just so good,” she sighed, “but I have to stop,” and dropping her spoon she stared across the table at him. “It’s official, I can’t move.”

  “You and me both,” he groaned, taking the last of the ice-cream and crumble. “How about we take a walk.”

  “A walk? It’s dark, and cold, and-”

  “Exactly,” he interrupted. “We’ll take the golf cart down and check on the horses in the barn. The boys would have brought those that were clipped in for the night. It’ll help us digest this wonderful dinner.”

  “You know, you’re right,” she yawned. “It’s either that or I pass out on the couch.”

  “You got a warm jacket?”

  “In my car,” she nodded.

  “Then let’s go,” he said, and moving around the table he took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “We can do these dishes when we get back.”

  “Oooh,” she groaned. “I think I did eat too much.”

  “You’ll feel better after you get some fresh air and we cruise through the barn,” he promised.

  Stepping outside she found it much colder than she’d expected, and hurriedly grabbed her coat from the back seat of her car, then a thought crossed her mind; popping the trunk she pulled out a thick cotton horse sheet.

  “What’s that?” he asked as she climbed into the cart.

  “It’s for Jiminy. It’s really cold and he’s outside. I don’t think he’s got much of a coat.”

  “You’ve really grown attached to him,” he remarked as he headed down the driveway.

  “I have. I miss my two mares a lot, but there’s something about him. We just click.”

  “I know how that feels,” he said, like you and me. We click. Just not sure what I should do about it.

  As they pulled up to the barn the motion light flashed on and Jiminy, who had been standing at the far end of his corral, walked over to check out the visitors. Seeing Amelia he whinnied loudly.

  “Someone’s happy to see you,” Clint chuckled.

  “Will you help me put this on?” she asked as she climbed from the golf cart.

  “Sure,” he grinned, touched by her concern for the big grey gelding.

  Taking it from her hands he climbed through the fence, flapped it open, and after folding it in half he laid it over the horse’s withers, then unfolded it along his back.

  “Why haven’t I ever thought of that?” she declared. “That’s brilliant.”

  “Just easier, and even though most horses don’t care about havin’ a blanket thrown over them, it prevents an unexpected spook.”

  “I’ve been riding my whole life and I’ve never seen that before,” she exclaimed.

  “Stick around, you might learn a thing or two,” he winked.

  Walking around the horse she adjusted the straps, and as she buckled up the front, he dropped his head and pulled her into his chest.

  “Awww, aren’t
you the sweetest thing,” she purred, wrapping his arms around his wide neck and returning his hug.

  “You two should get a room,” Clint quipped. “Come on, let’s go check on the other kids.”

  Leaving Jiminy they headed into the barn, and as Clint flicked on the lights announcing their arrival, a series of light knickers echoed back at them. Wandering down the wide aisle they checked all the horses, Clint taking one side, Amelia the other, and when they reached the end he grabbed her around the waist.

  “Hear that?” he breathed as he held her.

  “I do, it’s heaven.”

  The sound of the horses moving around and an occasional knicker rustled through the air. Wrapping his fingers through her hair he pulled back her head and softly kissed her.

  “Mmm, that was nice,” she murmured snuggling against him.

  “I agree,” he crooned, and standin’ here with you like this, feels kinda like it was meant to be. “Feelin’ better?”

  “Much, you were right, tired though,” she yawned.

  “You’re stayin’ the night,” he decreed.

  “Is that an invitation?” she giggled.

  “Hell no, that’s an order,” he replied, squeezing her tightly.

  “Um, I didn’t think that far ahead,” she commented as they headed out. “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”

  “Now why would you want somethin’ to sleep in?” he frowned. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she sighed.

  Stopping by Jiminy, the big grey gelding dropped his head so Amelia could scratch his ears, then finally climbing into the golf cart, they drove through the cold night up to the house.

  “Any chance of lighting the fireplace in your bedroom?” she asked as they entered the house and pulled off their coats.

  “Sure, I’ll go do it right now so it’ll warm things up.”

  “Perfect, I’ll get started in the kitchen,” she offered

  They went their separate ways, and as she quickly rinsed the dishes and placed them neatly into the dishwasher, she felt a warm sense of comfort.

  This feels so natural. I feel like I’m at home, like I belong here.

  Clint ambled in, cleared the table, and leaning back against the counter crossing his arms, he stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “First time a woman’s been at that sink,” he remarked. “It looks good on you.”

  “Is that right?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You don’t have a housekeeper?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not in the house when she is.”

  “Ah, so I’m not the first woman, just the first woman you’ve seen,” she corrected him.

  “Nope, I don’t see my housekeeper as a woman, at least, not like I see you as a woman,” he quipped.

  “We can finish this debate in your bed,” she said firmly, closing the dishwasher and starting it up.

  “You might not wanna debate me in bed,” he warned, grinning from ear to ear, “not unless you wanna go into it knowin’ you’re gonna lose.”

  “Listen to you, Mr. Confidence,” she retorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure of myself if I were you.”

  Clint laughed, then shook his head.

  “What?” she challenged.

  “This is what,” he replied, and stepping forward he lifted her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Aaargh, put me down,” she laughed.

  “Nope,” he replied, swatting her upturned backside.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to kick out her legs, but her peals of laughter were making it virtually impossible to fight against his hold.

  “Just makin’ a point,” he replied, swatting her again.

  “Stop that,” she protested.

  “Nope,” he repeated, landing several more smacks as he carried her own the hallway.

  “OW! Okay, you win,” she yelped, but she was laughing so hard, by the time threw her on the bed she was completely breathless.

  “You pull off those clothes fast enough, and I might just let you get away with a few more light slaps, but any longer than thirty-seconds and I’ll wallop your butt.”

  “Whaaat? I wanna take a shower,” she protested.

  “You’ve got five minutes,” he grinned, “startin’ now.”

  Jumping from the bed she ran past him and disappeared into his bathroom, then ran out again.

  “Whatta you doin’?” he asked as she bolted from the room.

  “All my stuff is in my bag in the guest room,” she called from the hallway.

  Continuing to chuckle he pulled off his clothes, crawled into bed, and switched off the light at his bedside. The flames from the fire washed the walls in its honey glow, and sighing happily he waited for her return.

  You’re toast buddy. You stuck your toe in, then your foot, now your whole damn leg.

  Nope, I’ve got all of me in, and I’m lovin’ it.

  You told her a day at a time.

  I know what I told her.

  But you don’t feel that way.

  Nope. I’m feelin’ fuckin’ amazin’ right now, and scared shitless, and like I never want this to end.

  Only ’cos it’s been so long.

  Nope, it’s because she’s somethin’ special, real special. I know what I felt in that barn, and it had nothin’ to do with sex.

  If anyone would know about that, it’s you.

  No shit.

  “Hey big guy.”

  Glancing across the room he saw her standing in the door with a towel wrapped around her chest.

  “Room for one more?” she asked.

  “Only if that one more is naked,” he replied, feeling his cock grow.

  “Easily done,” she purred, and walking towards him, she slowly, teasingly, sensuously, pulled the towel away from her body letting it drop to the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was in the early hours of the morning that Amelia found herself waking from sleep. Blinking her eyes open she rolled over and snuggled close to the man at her side.

  When she’d crawled into bed, Clint had made her lay quiet and still as he’d dawdled his tongue across the front her body. Tracing her skin from her neck, around her breasts, across her stomach, down each of her legs, he’d finally landed in her delectable crevice where he drove her mad with his lips and tongue.

  When he flipped her over he took his time caressing her, lightly spanking her bottom until it tingled, tracing his fluttering fingers between her legs, but he didn’t pull her up on her knees to slide into her depths until she was begging.

  Riding her slowly, then forcefully, then resting inside her, slapping her hard if she moved, he finally pummeled her to their united release, and in silent joy he’d held her until they drifted off into blissful sleep.

  Closing her eyes she relived the magical moment when he’d hugged her in the barn. It had felt so right, being there with him, surrounded by the sounds of the horses and the smell of hay and leather.

  That’s how it’s supposed to feel. Close and easy and wonderful. We’re kindred spirits you and me. I wonder if you felt it too.

  Yawning, she felt an unpleasant dryness in her mouth, and blinking her eyes open she looked across his body; the bottle of water was empty. Softly slipping from the bed she padded quickly across the room and out into the hallway.

  The cold air took her by surprise, and dashing into the guest room she pulled a sweatshirt from her bag. It fell to her the top of her thighs, but it was better than nothing, and guided by night-lights she hurried down the hall and into the kitchen.

  It was a dark night, no moon to speak of, and she flipped a switch illuminating the counter next to the refrigerator. Opening the door she grabbed two bottles of water, and was headed back to the bedroom when she realized she hadn’t turned it off. Cursing under her breath she returned to the kitchen, and was about to turn off the light when she saw the drawers.

  Huh. I wonder. People keep all kinds of things
in kitchen drawers.

  Her curiosity stirred, she carefully pulled them open, one after the other, rifling through the contents to see if there was anything that might answer the many questions she had tumbling around in her brain about Clint Hogan. Finding nothing, feeling frustrated and slightly annoyed, she picked up the bottles, flicked off the light, and headed back to the bedroom, passing his study as she walked down the hall.

  She would not have even noticed had a gust of wind not rattled some branches against the window. The unexpected sound in the cold quiet startled her, and when she turned her head and saw the black leather, high-backed chair behind the wide desk, she paused.

  Don’t do it.

  Just a peek.

  Don’t do it.

  Just a quick look over the top of his desk.

  Don’t do it.

  I have to.

  Creeping down to the bedroom, she peered around the door to make sure he was still sleeping soundly. Finding him motionless and heavily breathing, she stole back to the study, and heart pounding, she walked inside.

  Laying the water bottles on the carpet she moved behind the desk. It was dark, but she spied a tiny chain hanging from under the shade of the desk lamp, and when she pulled it down a bright glow illuminated everything before her.

  Envelopes were neatly stacked, file folders with the names of horses written across the front sat one on top of the other, and a yellow pad with notes was sitting next to the phone.

  Hmmm, where do I start?

  You don’t.

  I’m here now, I’ll just peek at one of these envelopes. Well, well, it’s addressed to a J.C. Hogan. Clint must be his middle name. I wonder if that’s why I couldn’t find him on the internet.

  It wasn’t a sound that made her lift her eyes, or even a shadow, it was a prickling at the back of her neck, a prickling that told her she was being watched. Nervously raising her gaze, she stared at his tall frame in the doorway.

  “Find what you were looking for?” he asked calmly.

  “Maybe,” she trembled.

  “And what was that exactly?”

  “Anything,” she said honestly.

  “Anything, like what?” he pressed.

  “Like, something that will tell me more about you. Since you don’t want to share who you are, I thought-”