Burn It Up(37)

“Fuck.”

His hips were bucking into her grip. He was there. She tugged her top up to her bust, held him against her belly as he came—a long, warm, body-wringing release. She could feel his cock throbbing in her grip, then softening, spent. He was panting like he’d just fled a burning building, pulse thumping a million miles a minute against her palm.

“Jesus.”

She smiled. “Good?”

“Fucking unbelievable.”

He took a long moment to come down, then moved to the side, seeming to scout for something to tidy her with.

“My towel,” she said, and pointed to where it hung on the doorknob. She admired his naked back and butt and legs as he crossed the room, and hid a smile when he returned, holding the towel in front of him, wary eyes on the crib.

Abilene cleaned herself up and gratefully pulled her shirt back over her belly. Once Casey was under the covers, he urged her to face him, both on their sides.

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling.

“Hi, yourself.”

“You okay?”

Now, there was an understatement. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know I could still do that. Get there.” And so easily. Orgasms had never come easy to Abilene. She’d had sex well before she’d ever attempted to touch herself, and could never bring herself to give a man instructions. Casey, though . . . He hadn’t needed any, but she also bet he’d take them, and eagerly. She could imagine finding the nerve to do that—to tell him faster, or slower, or harder, or deeper. Could imagine him taking the orders with pure excitement in his blue eyes.

“Well,” he said, smiling, “you did. You got there.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Been a long time since I got to do that for a woman,” he countered.

She studied his face. “Really?”

He nodded, the pillow scrunching his beard.

She narrowed her eyes, intrigued. “How long, exactly?”

He laughed. “Ages, it feels like. Since last spring.”

“That’s the last time you dated anybody?”

“Well, no. I was seeing someone right before I moved back here, but . . . Jesus, you don’t want to hear about my exes.”

She bit her lip, grinning, and poked his chest. “Of course I do.”

“Liar. Chicks only say that to get you to talk; then they find something to hold against you for the rest of eternity.”

“Casey, you’re here because my ex is a violent gunrunner. You really think I’ll be all that scandalized?”

He smiled at that. “Fair point.”

“So tell me. Just about the last one.”

“She was . . . She was a little weird. Actually, all my exes are at least half-crazy. This one never let me get her naked or even touch her, really. It was just, like, making out and blow jobs for two or three months.”

“That is a little weird.”

“Anyhow, that made it extra nice to get you off, just now. Feels like way too long since I’ve gotten to do that. Since I got to give something, after feeling like I was getting spoiled, never allowed to reciprocate.”

She felt a blush blooming at that. “Felt real nice to me, too.”

He scooted closer, close enough for the tips of their noses to touch. “You know I’d do more, if you wanted. Give you my mouth, if you like that.”

Oh, now she was blushing. “Maybe. Sometime.” She turned over, letting him spoon her. “Promise me something,” she whispered, twining her fingers with his at her belly.

“Sure.”

“Sleep here later, with me. Just for tonight.”

A breath, and then, “Of course.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just need that. Just this once.” The orgasm had been a shock, not a need. A pleasant surprise, but not a primal craving, like the way she wanted his body pressed to hers through the night.

She felt his lips and the tip of his nose against the nape of her neck, his warm exhalation. “Whatever you need.”

Just for one night, let her fall back on her old ways. Let her fall apart, need a man, use her body to keep his close. Just one night.

Tomorrow, she’d be stronger.

Tomorrow, she’d leave her old ways behind for good.





Chapter 11


Miah slid his rifle out from behind his driver’s seat and strapped it across his back, slammed the truck’s door in the icy night air.

“That’ll do, King,” he told his dog. She leapt from the bed, paused for a quick scratch behind the ears, then trotted off behind the farmhouse in search of a late dinner.

Miah’s own stomach rumbled at the thought. His entire day had been thrown off by an unexpected visitor—a high-pressure rep from a large property management company, calling with an impressive buyout offer for the ranch. It wasn’t the first they’d received since talk of the casino had begun, but it had by far been the largest, and its pitch the most aggressive.

Miah had been at the house grabbing lunch, and his dad had called him into the office, the impromptu meeting having just begun. It had been a hard sell, to say the least, and the prick had done his research. He knew the cattle market had been lousy, and the weather worse. He knew exactly what to say to get every last one of Miah’s nerves up and humming, every last worry that kept him up late rising to the surface. “If recent annual rainfall continues at its current trend, you’ll be looking at a full-on, extended drought in the next three years. That really how your family wants to go out? The slow and painful way? Now, I’ve got an offer here that no sane man would be too proud to pass up. Get out while the getting’s good, as they say.”