Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(42)

“Sweetheart, you can tell me.”

She shifted as though her skin were too tight. Damn, he knew that feeling well. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not? We’ll only get closer by telling each other these things. Besides, I told you about what I’m going through.”

He tuned in to the rush of her breath across his chest. When she finally said, “I don’t want to give you more ammunition against me.”

It was his turn to tense. “What?” Did he hear her correctly? She believed he’d take her words and turn them against her? Did she really think so little of him?

“It’s just that…what happened sounds an awful lot like the way you think of me.”

His throat seemed filled with shards of glass. “Hey. The way I think of you isn’t what you think. Sweetheart—”

“I’m not going to tell you, Wydell.” She sat up and scooted against the side of the truck, shivering as soon as her skin touched the cold metal.

“Anya.” His tone came out as a warning. Too late he realized he should have eased down.

She sliced the air with an agitated hand. “Don’t even start on me. I don’t know why we keep falling into this routine.”

“What routine?” He tensed his jaw.

“Sex and fighting. Sex and fighting. We aren’t going to stop fighting, so we should stop having sex.”

“This is more than sex, goddammit, and you know it.”

At that, she arched a brow. “Yes, it is. We can’t stay away from each other because hormones drive us, and we both need to get our heads on straight. At least until we figure out what this relationship really is. I think I have a fix, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I stay on my side of town while you finish your job on the houses. At least until we figure things out.”

“Like hell.” He reached for her, filling his hands with plump curves he couldn’t get enough of.

She bit back a smile even as she slapped at him. He felt her humming with arousal. When he tugged her into his arms, she moved onto her knees, giving him a glance at her inner thighs, shiny with his seed. Fuck no, she wasn’t walking away from this. From him. She belonged right here.

“Wait, Wydell. Didn’t you hear what I said about needing distance to think things over? This isn’t what either of us needs.” Even as she spoke, her head tipped forward and he swore her lips brushed his shoulder. With a noise of frustration, he slid his fingers between her legs. Over her wet pussy lips, burrowing into her channel.

She cried out and spread her legs, her chest heaving as she allowed him to finger her pussy. He thrust his two fingers deep while stroking his thumb over her clit again. Back and forth. Giving her the ease she needed.

“Please, Wydell.”

“Please don’t stop?”

“Yes…no. We’re no good together right now.”

“We’re no good apart, either. Let me make you come, Anya.”

“I can’t think when you…” Her breath hitched as he ground her core into her body. She pushed closer to him, cupping her breasts and angling her nipple toward his lips. Feeding it to him.

With a guttural noise, he sucked her ripe bud into his mouth. Sucking gently as he brought her to a pinnacle. She ground against his fingers.

“Let go, sweetheart. Give yourself up to me.”

“Never.” She scored his shoulders with her nails. The pleasure-pain ripped a roar from him that echoed across his family lands. Passion lifted in him, so heady that he could barely think of anything in the universe besides this woman and his mission to make her come.

He fucked her shallow, and she rocked her hips forward for more. He fucked her deep and she shuddered. Tightened. The heat of her pussy enveloped his fingers, his hand, his arm. He latched onto her nipple with renewed vigor.

“You hate me. And I hate you.” Her words held no heat, only a burning longing.

“I don’t hate you. And you definitely don’t hate me.” Curling his fingers so the tips bumped the slightly rough interior wall of her pussy, he watched her face shiver with ecstasy.

Then she was coming, giving him exactly what he demanded of her. All of her. Every single pulsation belonged to him. Each cry that escaped her lips. When her final contraction faded, he laid her back down on the pile of clothes, spread her legs and took more from her, cleaning her pussy and inner thighs until he was rock-hard once more.

“Stop, Wydell.” Her legs shook as he captured her clit between his lips again.

“Not until you take back what you said. You don’t hate me and this isn’t only lust.”

“It’s hate fucking.”

He bit her thigh as if she were a juicy apple. She cried out, clamping her fingers in his hair. When he bathed the hurt with his tongue, a stuttering sigh left her. Then he nuzzled up her leg to her apex again. Aware of her need and wanting nothing more in the world than to make her cry out his name.

“It’s not hate fucking.”

“It’s not love,” she protested weakly, lifting her hips until her clit bumped his tongue.

“Mmm. It could be, if you stop fighting me—and yourself.”

She went dead still. Uh oh, he couldn’t have her thinking too hard. He wanted her screaming, coming apart for him.