Cowboy's Texas Rescue Page 15

  He slammed through the door to the carport and stormed out into the cold air. He’d seen a shed of some kind at the back of the property when he arrived and guessed that would be where he’d find a shovel. Assuming Chelsea’s folks had a—

  Movement near the shed caught his eye, and Brady jerked to a stop, tensing. Hold the phone...what was that?

  Two horses, both saddled, had been tied to the clothesline pole. So that was how Cowboy and Chelsea got here. That was why he hadn’t heard a car engine.

  Brady sent an encompassing look around the property. Should he take a horse and be gone? No. Traveling by horse was too slow, wouldn’t get him far enough, fast enough, and was far from inconspicuous. And horses stank. Brady rolled his lip in a sneer, thinking of his misspent youth and the days he’d spent mucking stalls for minimum wage. He snorted. Was it any wonder he’d turned to armed robbery and petty theft?

  Taking a horse was a good backup plan if he needed an emergency contingency. He marched through the snow, checked out the horses and decided which one he’d take. In a pinch. For now he’d dig out Cowboy’s truck. If the roads were clear, he could be in Mexico by morning.

  * * *

  Chelsea glanced at her watch. “Two-thirty. We’ve been down here an hour.”

  Jake nodded, concentrating on taking slow, even breaths. Anything to take his mind off the burning pain in his shoulder. Chelsea had found an almost-full bottle of acetaminophen tablets in a drawer of her father’s workbench and given him a couple. For a gunshot wound, the pills were kinda like spitting on a wildfire, but still better than nothing.

  A little while earlier, the bleeding had finally stopped, and since then he’d been bracing himself for what he knew needed to happen next.

  “Things are quiet upstairs,” Chelsea said. “I wonder what evil deeds Brady’s up to. Probably going through my mother’s jewelry looking for valuables to pawn.”

  “Chels...”

  She looked over at him, her expression reflecting the strain of their situation. She flashed him a brave smile despite her obvious worry. “I’m babbling, I know. I do that when I’m nervous.”

  He held her gaze, knowing she wouldn’t like what he was about to tell her any more than he did. “You need to stitch me up...close the wound...”

  He gritted his teeth as a sharp ache sliced through him when he moved his arm.

  Chelsea’s gaze widened and darted to his. “Come again?”

  “You told me you quilted as a hobby. You know how to stitch.”

  “Cloth scraps, not people!” Panic flared in her eyes. “Besides that, where am I going to get—”

  “Look in there.” He aimed an unsteady finger at the box of fabric scraps on the metal shelving.

  Chelsea glanced toward the shelves, then met his gaze again with resignation and acceptance of her task written on her face.

  “You can do it. I trust you.” He squeezed her hand, and tears filled her eyes.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. We have no way to deaden the pain.”

  “Let me worry about that. Find me something to bite down on.”

  She scanned the room, then went to the dryer and retrieved a pair of her clean panties. Arching an eyebrow and shooting him a devilish smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she quipped lightly, “Wanna sink your teeth in these, Spy Guy?”

  He gave her the best teasing grin he could, considering the throbbing in his shoulder and his skull. “You gonna be...in them?”

  She rolled the panties up and laid them on his chest. “Not this time, sugar.” She swiped at a tear that dripped onto her cheek. “But you pull through this, and I’m all yours, handsome.”

  The tremble of fear and grief in her voice belied the sultry promise in her flirting and tugged at Jake’s heart.

  Chelsea pushed to her feet and took the box of sewing scraps from the shelf, setting it on the floor to rummage through the contents. Digging deep into the bits of fabric, she pulled out a small wooden box. “We’re in luck.” She opened the lid of the wooden box and tinny, tinkling music wafted through the basement.

  “‘Love Story,’” he said, identifying the song. “My mom’s favorite movie.”

  Chelsea removed a spool of thread and packet of needles from the box, closed the lid and returned to his side, frowning. “Why? The woman dies! I need a happy ending. There’s enough sadness in the world without watching movies where true love is cut short by tragedy.”

  “Two words.” He watched her unwind a length of thread and snap it off. “Ryan O’Neal. My mom made no secret of her...crush on him.” He scowled at the spool. “Purple, huh?”

  “Sorry. It was this or a horrid green. And this is official TCU purple, Spy Guy. You should feel honored.”

  “Really? Not so much. I went to A&M for a year before I joined the Air Force.”

  She gave him a quick side glance and grunted. “If you ever meet my dad, don’t lead with that. First impressions are important, and he’s a Horned Toad through and through.” She pulled out a needle, threaded it, then twisted her mouth in thought. “Hang on.”

  She scurried over to the washing machine, retrieved the jug of bleach, and dunked the needle and thread in the sterilizing liquid. The thread came out a strange shade of pink.

  “So much for official TCU purple, huh?” she said, then gave him a reluctant look. “Ready?”

  He nodded. “Do it.”

  She moved close, stuck the rolled-up panties between his teeth and peeled back the dressing she’d made for the wound earlier.

  Drawing a deep breath, she bit her bottom lip and carefully pinched together the edges of his wound. A sharp pain, disproportionate to the poke of a needle, sliced through his shoulder as she started. Likely drips of bleach on his open wound. He bit hard on the cloth roll, and a hiss of pain escaped him, despite his best effort to endure the ordeal silently. Chelsea was stressed enough without knowing just how much he really was hurting.

  Her hands stilled, and she raised apologetic eyes to his. “Sorry. I wish there was some way to make this easier on you.”

  He was lucky the bullet had passed through, though. With the plugs in the wound to stop the bleeding, followed by a quick stitch-up job, he’d be good as new...in a couple of months. Meantime, he could still move his arm, even if it hurt like hell, and with a couple of hours to rest, he’d be back on his feet, finding a way out of this cluster eff.

  He removed the bite roll and took a cleansing breath. “I’ll be okay. Better if you work quickly...get it over with.”

  She nodded but didn’t start back to work. Her brow furrowed, and she nibbled her lip as she cast a glance around them. “Something...” she muttered under her breath, then froze. Her gaze darted back to his, and she wet her lips.

  “Chels?”

  Her expression modulated, and she set the needle and thread on his chest. One sculpted eyebrow arched, and a grin twitched at the corner of her mouth. “What you need is something to distract you.”

  “Like wh—” His question stuck in his throat as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it and her bra off in one smooth motion.

  Jake’s breath caught in his lungs. His attention zeroed in on the two perfect breasts and peaked nipples that greeted him. “Chels...” he croaked.

  “Enjoy, Spy Guy.” She stuck the rolled panties back in his mouth and set back to work. As if nothing were different. As if she hadn’t just offered up the most tempting and luscious pair of breasts he’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. Geezums... He’d been shot through the shoulder, but he wasn’t dead!

  A rush of heat flooded him, settling in his groin. Damn, she was hot. Even without makeup, her cheeks splotched red from crying, her hair mussed from the wind and her eyelashes spiked by tears, Chelsea was something to behold.

  Sure, he’d seen women with more perfect features, more classically beautiful faces and model-thin bodies, but Chelsea had something those women didn’t. Realness was the only way he could put it. Warmth. Life. Passion.

>   The sting of the needle didn’t recede as she continued stitching him up, but her distraction worked. Gritting his teeth and focusing on the nearly naked woman hovering over him, Jake shut out all but the worst pain. Rail-thin models didn’t have the full, rounded cleavage a man could wrap his hands around and fondle at leisure, savoring.

  Jake lifted a hand toward Chelsea’s bosom but stopped himself before touching her. Blood stained his shaking hand, and the notion of defiling her pale skin and rosy nipples seemed profane. But as he withdrew his hand, Chelsea wrapped her fingers around his and pressed his palm to her breast.

  She met his gaze and gave him a timid grin. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to keep your mind off the needle.”

  He moved his hand to her cheek and stroked her flushed skin with his thumb. Pushing the bite roll out of his mouth with his tongue, he whispered, “You’re beautiful, Chels. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  Her eyebrows twitched as if in denial, but rather than reply, she ducked her head and poked him again with the needle.

  He grunted and pulled a cleansing breath through his nose. He focused again on her bared chest and cupped the nearest breast in his palm. When he flicked the pebbled tip with his thumb, she sucked in a quick breath and tensed. He paused, briefly, then circled the nipple again before pinching it lightly.

  A soft moan escaped Chelsea’s taut lips, and the sexy sound shot fire through his veins.

  “Almost done,” she said, her voice unsteady. She tugged on the thread, tying off her last stitch, then set the needle aside. Her brow puckering in concentration, she examined her handiwork. “I think that should h—”

  She stopped midsentence when he squeezed her breast again, molding it with his palm.

  Digging her fingers into his arms, she closed her eyes. “Wow.”

  Lust spiked inside him, and his body grew rigid, vibrating with need, his stinging shoulder forgotten. Jake curled both hands around her butt and guided her leg over him so that she straddled his hips.

  As she settled into the new position, she grazed the swollen ridge behind his fly. He bucked, firming his grip on her hips, and she gasped. Her legs tensed on either side of him, before slowly relaxing and settling on him, their sexes fitted intimately.

  Jake’s heart tapped a hard staccato beat, and his breath sawed from him in shallow pants. “C’mere.”

  Sliding his hand into her hair, he pulled her head down and caught her lips for an openmouthed kiss. He moved his mouth greedily against hers, but instead of slaking the flare of heat that surged in him, the fire inside him burned hotter, higher.

  Chelsea braced her arms on either side of his head, clearly trying to keep her weight off him, but the position allowed her breasts to brush his chest. The sensation of her taut nipples grazing his skin drove him crazy, coiling the need in him tighter.

  “I want you...” he said between kisses, his tone more growl than murmur.

  With a sigh, Chelsea pulled back, just far enough to look into his eyes. Her pupils were large black pools of desire. She licked her lips, and her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. “I promise, my intent was not to seduce you. I just thought if you had something else to think about—”

  He cut her off with another blistering kiss. “If you don’t want to, just say no.”

  “Oh...no! I mean, yes... I mean...oh, my God, Jake...” More tears puddled in her eyes. “Yes...”

  * * *

  Chelsea stared at Jake for a few stunned seconds, waiting to wake up, waiting for him to flash her a lopsided grin and tell her he was kidding. Instead, his blue eyes held hers while a smoky desire swirled in their depths. He tugged her close for another devastating kiss, and her head spun, muzzy with sweet sensation. Her breasts skimmed across his chest, and the light friction made her nipples gloriously achy and hypersensitive.

  “Y-your shoulder—”

  “Is fine for now.” Skimming his hand down her bare back, Jake’s fingertips trailed along her spine and sent electric sparks shimmering through her. His hand nudged her as he wedged it between their bodies, fumbling. She was so lost in the heady pleasure of his kiss that it took her brain a moment to process his groping. At the button on her pants. And his zipper.

  Oh, Texas...he truly wanted her. He was undressing. He was...

  With a tremulous breath, she rolled off him, taking over the job of stripping her pants down her legs and tossing them and her panties aside. When he sat up to shove his jeans down to his ankles, he grunted and winced in pain.

  She sent him a concerned look, opening her mouth to call a halt to things, but he silenced her with a look and a shake of his head. “I’m fine. Just...give me a hand with my boots?”

  With a nod, she helped him tug off his boots—and, sheesh, found another gun tucked in one. She set them aside as he kicked off his jeans.

  Facing Jake, she drank in the sight of him, and her mouth dried. He was everything she’d expected a man of his powerful build, his rugged appeal, his alpha soldier hotness would be. And then some.

  Her breath stuttered from her in a fluttery exhale, and she reached for him, stroking her cool fingers along his heated flesh. His moan startled her, and she snatched her hand back.

  “No, don’t stop,” he rasped. “That feels wonderful.”

  She met his gaze, saw the affection and pleasure that lit his smile, and her heart twisted. Could she make love to him and not become emotionally attached to him? “Jake...”

  “Don’t overthink it, Chels. If this isn’t what you want, it’s okay. If it is, then—” he reached for her

  “—kiss me.”

  She didn’t have to weigh the matter. She wanted him more than she could bear. Turning toward him, she caught his lips with hers and savored the welcoming warmth of his kiss. She might be dreaming. She might just be a convenient and willing body to satisfy an itch for him, but at that moment she didn’t care. She wanted Jake in a way that was way beyond sexual hunger and hovered dangerously close to her heart. Her soul.

  The crazy impossibility that she, Chelsea Plain-Jane Harris of Small Town, Texas, was in the arms of a prince among men, a sexy warrior god, a hero worthy of a Hollywood spy thriller, only made her cherish the moment all the more. She knew how rare and special making love to Jake was in the big picture. She was one lucky girl, and she wasn’t about to argue with fate or karma or whatever happy power had brought her to this moment.

  She wrapped her fingers around his arousal and gave him a few long, tender caresses. Jake caught his breath, and his body bowed off the bed of laundry.

  “Oh, Chelsea...” he said, the sexy rumble of satisfaction in his voice stirring a heady confidence in her. She smacked another fervent kiss on his mouth before swinging her leg over to straddle him again.

  With his hands on her hips, he helped guide her descent as she sank down, taking him deep within her, savoring the glide of his heat inside her, filling her. She let her head fall back, thrusting her chest forward, and clinging to his arms as she rode him.

  He sat up enough to draw her nipple into his mouth and roll the tight peak with his tongue. Ribbons of tingling sensation unfurled in her, puddling at her core and building the sweet frenzy scrambling inside her. She explored his skin with her fingers, then her lips, learning every inch of his chest, arms, neck. When his tongue dueled with hers, she met his parry and thrust, their mouths mirroring the motion of their bodies.

  Eyes closed, she hovered near the edge of her climax, savoring every second of their union and the sensual experience. She’d have been happy to stay in that moment forever, but Jake slipped a hand between them to caress her highly sensitive flesh. Just one stroke of his finger shot her into the stratosphere, shuddering and deliriously swamped in pleasure. A ragged cry escaped her, and Jake responded with harder thrusts, which sent her higher, drew out her pleasure and made the heady sensation more intense.

  Soon his moans joined hers, and she felt the tremor that shook him as he buried himself deep inside her. When she opened h
er eyes, she found him watching her, his eyes bright and penetrating. The intensity of his gaze hit her with a jolt, and a different sort of quiver tumbled through her. She could almost believe, looking back at him, seeing the fierce power of his expression, that he shared the emotions that tangled inside her.

  But believing that was folly. Chelsea released the breath she held. Jake had no room in his driven, top secret, danger-filled life for a relationship. He’d said as much, and one lightning-hot roll in the hay—or laundry pile, as the case may be—didn’t change that fact.

  A sharp pang sliced through her, and she quickly shoved it down, not wanting anything to spoil the moment, the tingling afterglow of incredible sex. With the man of her dreams. Chelsea raked her hair back from her face with one hand and carefully moved off him, rolling to his side in utter exhaustion.

  Jake put an arm around her, lightly strumming his fingers along her arm, but for several minutes neither said anything. Huddled against Jake’s chest, she could feel and hear the thump of his heart beneath her ear.

  “So...I guess we should talk about the obvious,” he said finally, his voice soft.

  She frowned. “The obvious?”

  He sighed. “We didn’t use protection.”

  Her gut tightened. “Oh. Right.” She swallowed hard. Good grief! How could she have gotten so caught up in the moment that that got by her? “Wow.” Angling her head back, she met his gaze.

  “For my part, you’re safe. I’m always careful.” He scowled and grunted. “Well, present circumstance aside.”

  “‘Kay.” She nodded. “Same here. In fact, the only other guy I’ve slept with was my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Todd the Jerk?”

  “That’s the one.” She sat up, found her clothes and started dressing. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, she was awkwardly aware of her less-than-seductive love handles.