Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(40)

He worried her earlobe between his teeth as he continued his exquisite torture. He whispered dirty, hot words into her ear about sucking on her clit and pinching her nipples. About driving into her tight pussy and her soaking his cock.

“Oh God.” Her words came out as a shiver. Overhead, the stars winked down at them. Out here, she felt so free, so loved wrapped in the cocoon of his arms while he gave her a pleasure unlike any she’d received before.

Release. She gasped.

He pressed downward again. “Grind into it, baby. Let me get you off. I wanna hear you scream for me.”

“Wy—dell.” She peaked faster than she’d thought possible. Her pussy tightened almost painfully before she tipped over the ledge and contractions of ecstasy pounded her.

He held her through her orgasm, pressing on her pockets light enough to keep her pulsating. When she tipped her face up to his, he kissed her long and slow and deep. When he had her ready to drop her jeans and mount his cock, he reached past her and opened the truck door.

“Get in.”

She had no idea where they were going, but she could hardly wait to get there and return the favor. Giving him release, watching his face crumple in bliss, was one of the things she’d miss most about Los Vista. Reaching across the console, she tried to place her hand over his bulging jeans, but he stayed her. Entwined their fingers.

“Not yet, sweetheart. I get to lick up all those juices you just spilled for me.”

She quivered with the excitement he was about to give her. Passion was a thick haze in her mind. She squeezed his hand and stared at his profile through the dim lighting of the dashboard. Each angle and line carved from stone. In daylight, he was beautiful. By moonlight, breathtaking.

Dammit, she was in love with the man. Marine, cowboy, builder, insufferable ass, whatever he was. Even without straight-out asking, he’d demanded that she show her true colors to him. Maybe he’d been the first person to ever do so. Before coming to Los Vista, she hadn’t felt as if anybody but her financial advisor knew that the true Anya wasn’t a spoiled girl but a sharp woman who could make good decisions about her life and inheritance.

Wydell might torment and tease her with his comments but he also respected her. She’d seen it in his eyes, especially while she’d been pretending to be the rhinestone-clad glamour girl.

It took her several seconds to realize that he’d stopped the truck. Wydell got out. She did too, not waiting for him to open the door for her. It was enough to know that he would if she wanted him to.

The high grasses brushed her feet, and she looked across a meadow stretching for miles. Untouched land that was prime for grazing or even planting.

“What is this place?” she asked.

He took her hand and led her across the land. Once they were some distance from the truck, he sank to the ground. She stared into his eyes and sat beside him, letting him tug her against his side. A burning need to say something licked at her insides, but she couldn’t. This was his moment, and he needed the time to say what he’d come to say the way he wanted to say it. Maybe he’d talk about his episode more.

“This is my family’s land.”

She turned to face him. Against the velvety blackness, he was handsomer than ever. “All of it?”

“Yes, the top field. The house was down there a ways. Foundation’s still there. It was one of the first places cleared.”

“Did you clear it?” The thought hurt—Wydell untangling the lives of his family and tossing it all into trucks and dumpsters to be carried off.

“Not me. It was before I got home.”

“It must have been a shock to come back to a ruined town.”

Wydell looked down at his boots, then to where he’d said the house had once been. “In some ways I think it…hurt more than the things I’d seen over there.”

She held her breath, waiting for more, but nothing came. She placed her hand on his cheek. “You know I’ll listen if you want to talk.”

“I know. You’re one of the only people I trust, Anya. Everyone else in town, they mean well. But the way they’d help, I’d only end up feeling worse, you know?”

His admission brought tears to her eyes. “I want to help.”

“You already do, sweetheart. You make me remember there’s a lot worth living for.” He captured her lips in a kiss as sweet as honey. She leaned into him, allowing him to lead and set the pace. When he withdrew faster than she wanted, she couldn’t stop but moan. His chest rumbled and he lay back, pulling her atop him. “Let me have you, Anya. Right here on my land. Then I’ve a mind to take you into town for a nice dinner.”

She wiggled over his body. Bracing herself on her palms, she stared into his eyes. “Doesn’t a man like you have some beer and sandwiches in your truck? Town is all right for some, but I like this view better.”

He slid his hand under her hair to probe the hollow at the base of her skull. “God, how’d I find you?”

“You didn’t. I found you.” She hovered over him, breathing the same air as he did before lowering her mouth and taking what she wanted. She’d found a complex man who was slowly learning how to handle her. Yes, this Wydell was quickly becoming the most important person in her life.





Chapter Seven


Between the burning in Anya’s eyes and the bright stars overhead, Wydell felt drunk. He skimmed his hands over her bare spine down to cup her round backside. Such a sweet little morsel, but she was so much more.