Come Closer, Cowboy Read online

  Briefly her eyes drifted closed. When she opened them, she saw Gunner watching her. Only then did she become fully aware of what she was doing. She started to lower her hand...but then she saw the way he was looking at her. As if she was the most beautiful, most desirable woman on the whole planet.

  The moon was trekking across the sky but had left enough light that she could see his lips were damp, his nostrils flared. And maybe his passion-darkened eyes were more her imagination than reality, but there was no question he wanted her. If nothing else, his pulsing erection proved it.

  Her breathing hitched. She wanted to touch him. Hell, she’d longed for this moment for weeks. The minute after he’d raced out of the Renegade to the airport, she’d started missing him. It had taken two days to snap out of the dream. To realize she was being a fool and sliding headlong into heartbreak.

  But this was different. Gunner would be leaving soon. Probably for good. He’d be out of sight and out of mind in no time. She understood exactly what she was doing. Enjoying him while she could, that’s all.

  He got back on the bed, one knee first, his erection nearly within reach. She turned onto her side. This time she wouldn’t let him push her hand away. Or her mouth.

  Too busy gearing up to take him by surprise, she missed the part when he’d torn open the packet. Before she could object, he rolled on the condom.

  She watched, fascinated. The rubber was snug, of course, and she wondered how much pleasure the act of putting it on gave him. Shuddering, she also wondered about the size of the condom. Extra-large? “I wasn’t ready for you to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I had plans.”

  “Such as?” Amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth.

  “Too late now.”

  He brushed the hair away from her face with a gentle hand. “Then I’ll finish what I started,” he murmured and put his mouth over hers.

  There was nothing gentle about the kiss. His tongue dove deep seeking hers, demanding a response she more than willingly gave. She kissed him back, hard, matching his fervor, showing him she was ready for anything.

  Their mouths lost contact. All of a sudden she was on her back, her thighs spread, as Gunner loomed over her. Bracing his elbows on either side of her, he rested his hips against hers, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. His hard length pulsed against her belly.

  “I missed you,” he said, and her heart thumped. His mouth hovered just above hers, his breath warm and soft on her face. “You’re calling the shots, sweetheart. Whatever this thing is, we’ll do it your way.”

  Mallory didn’t understand what he meant. And when he kissed the side of her neck, lingered on the spot behind her ear, she was pretty sure she didn’t care.

  She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her palms up his back, all the way to the powerful muscles across his shoulders. He moved his hips against hers, his erection growing hotter by the second. Cupping her hands around his hard ass, she pulled him against her as forcefully as she could.

  His grunt was part frustration, part laughter.

  All she cared about was that he got down to business.

  Holy shit.

  She gasped on impact.

  Gunner hadn’t even entered her all the way yet. Maybe it was because she was squeezing so tight she’d maimed him for life. But his whole body froze.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, remaining partway inside her but staying completely still.

  “Yes, dammit. That was a good noise, not a bad one.” Impatiently she lifted her hips.

  He thrust hard, pushing himself in as far as her body would allow him to, this time ignoring her moan. After a moment, he withdrew halfway, and pushed in again.

  Mallory clutched his arm and wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt his biceps and shoulder muscles straining as he moved inside her. He’d found his rhythm but she had the feeling he was holding back. Wanting more, she arched against him. Why wasn’t he going faster?

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, surging up to meet him halfway.

  Gunner leaned forward. Her nipples grazed his chest as their lips touched. With a sharp inhale, he slid his hands underneath her, gripping the fleshy softness of her butt and lifting her into his thrusts.

  He didn’t slow or hesitate. Just delivered thrust after hard, glorious thrust until she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but whimper and moan.

  His ragged breaths felt cool on her damp skin. Yet inside she was burning up. Every little thing seemed magnified, but she’d already come once. She wasn’t sure if it could happen again.

  “Are you close, baby?” Gunner’s control was slipping. She heard it in his voice, felt the desperation in his grip.

  She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he groaned. His control shattered. Tremors overtook his body. As he threw back his head, cords of muscle strained in his neck. He was too strong for her, but she refused to let go, hanging on to the faith he wouldn’t hurt her. Despite the savage look on his face. So she clung to him, digging her fingers into his damp skin, holding him as tight as she could, loving the way he trembled in her arms.

  Without warning the first shimmer of pleasure burst from someplace deep in her core. The sensation rippled through her body, infusing her with a warm tingle that spread through her limbs. Her heart thudded wildly and she tightened her hold on Gunner. Together they rode out the storm crashing over them.

  When things started to calm, he dropped to his elbows, gazing down at her and sliding his fingers through her tangled hair. Cradling her head in his large palms, he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers.

  He murmured soft words she couldn’t hear. Her name was the only utterance she could make out, whispered so reverently she thought she might be mistaken. They kissed again before he rolled off and fell onto his back beside her.

  It was a long time before she could move. They were both wiped. Briefly, she considered forcing herself to get up and close the window. The early-morning air was chillier than before, and their bodies had cooled considerably.

  Mallory wasn’t at all insulted that he’d fallen asleep so quickly. If anything she was a little jealous. They both desperately needed the rest, and after that workout, she should be down for the count, as well. Normally her problem was an inability to turn her brain off.

  Tonight was different. Filled with a sense of contentment, she snuggled against Gunner. The feeling was odd, almost surreal. But it felt so good that she didn’t want to ruin things by going to sleep.

  Evidently she had no choice.

  Mallory realized she’d dozed when she woke with a slight start. Gunner was lying next to her, on his side, with one heavy leg thrown over her. A strong, muscled arm curled possessively around her waist.

  He didn’t so much as twitch when she picked up his arm and laid it on his side. His leg was trickier but she finally untangled herself, which wasn’t an option at this point. She needed to go to the bathroom.

  She saw the pinks and grays of dawn streaking the sky as she closed the window and the blinds. Whether or not she went back to sleep, Gunner shouldn’t be disturbed. Soon he’d be making the long drive back to Valencia. Well, in a week. And already she was dreading the goodbye.

  She should be used to it. Everyone she’d ever cared about had deserted her. First her mother, then her father ten years later. And no, dying was no excuse because he’d brought an early death on himself by boozing and ignoring his doctor’s orders.

  She swore stuntmen, even ex-stuntmen, were a different species altogether. Always testing the limits of their endurance and always shocked to learn they weren’t invincible. Years after his accident, Coop had still refused to accept his reality. No wonder her mother had ditched him. Mallory just didn’t understand why her mom had left her.

  After visiting
the bathroom, she knew trying for more sleep was useless. She was too pissed at herself for sinking into a shitty mood of her own making. So she put on a pot of coffee and surveyed the living room.

  Nothing had magically unpacked itself or found a new home on the mantel. But she could see what Gunner had been doing besides looking for his pillow. He’d broken down empty boxes and piled them in the corner near the door. The unopened ones were neatly lined up close to the recliner, stacked two-high so she wouldn’t always have to bend.

  All the bubble wrap and wadded newspaper she’d left scattered across the floor had been picked up. She felt an urgent need to explain she wasn’t a slob. The unexpected delivery of the mechanical bull had sent her rushing to the bar. But Gunner already knew she could be a mess sometimes. She was strict about the bar being clean and uncluttered. Her car...not so much. Something which Gunner liked to point out on occasion.

  The braided brown-and-taupe rug wasn’t hers. It was something else the owners had left behind. But she’d already inspected it and knew it was clean. He’d found the perfect spot for it.

  He’d even moved the love seat to give her more room, and then placed the two small tables in front so it looked as if someone really lived here and hadn’t just dumped their stuff and left.

  Her coffeemaker was old, and probably needed replacing judging by the snorts and grunts coming from the kitchen. She walked quietly down the short hall, wanting to peek in on Gunner. Of course she’d let him sleep, and maybe later she’d join him. At the mere thought a flicker of arousal stirred low in her belly. Just like that her mood lightened.

  He was still in the same position as when she’d left him. Only his arm was curled over her pillow instead of her. She tried not to take it personally. But the truth was, four nights ago his arm had probably been around another woman. The stuntmen who hung out at the Renegade never seemed to lack female attention. Cheating had been on the long list of her dad’s faults.

  Sighing, she pulled the door closed. Gunner had never been married. He’d made no promises to her or anyone else. That made him a free agent. And who knew if or when she’d ever have such great sex again. As long as she kept herself in check, she honestly didn’t think she was asking for trouble. Even if she was jealous of her own damn pillow.

  10

  GUNNER STOPPED AT the end of the hall the second he saw Mallory. She was sitting cross-legged on the rug in the living room, unpacking a box. Very carefully she unwrapped a framed picture and a few knickknacks. Torn cardboard, strips of tape and pieces of bubble wrap littered the wood floor around her.

  The tempting aroma of Colombian coffee called to him, and had probably teased him awake. But she hadn’t noticed him yet and it was a rare privilege for him to see her among her personal things, unguarded, her hair down and bouncing off her shoulders every time she moved her head.

  He’d always liked her hair. The soft honey color and the fine silky texture of it, and even the two stubborn kinks that she hated so much she kept threatening to whack it all off. It was probably why she wore a ponytail most of the time.

  It was 8:20. He wondered how long she’d been up. Must’ve been a while. He’d picked up all the packing debris last night.

  “Hey,” he said softly so he wouldn’t startle her.

  She jumped anyway, before turning toward him. “Was I making too much noise?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You should’ve woken me,” he said and walked toward her.

  “There’s coffee made.” She set the picture she’d unwrapped facedown on the table next to some figurines, and started gathering all the paper and bubble wrap she could reach and stuffing it into a box.

  “Mallory?” He bent over and squeezed her shoulders. “You seem jumpy.”

  “I don’t mean to.” She leaned back to look at him. “What I meant to say is that I’m not. You know, jumpy.”

  He gazed at her upturned face, at those sweet, rosy lips and dark green eyes. It would’ve killed him if he’d seen any sign of regret. He crouched and kissed her, keeping it brief so he wouldn’t give in to the impulse to lift her in his arms and carry her back to bed. “Good morning.”

  “We’ll see about that...” Her soft laugh soothed him. “Can you believe this mess?”

  “Put me to work.”

  “Maybe. But if you’re in a hurry that’s okay.”

  “No hurry at all.”

  “Why don’t you get your coffee first?” she said, with that hint of shyness he’d seen once before. “I left your— The blue mug out for you.”

  He nodded at hers sitting next to those weird figurines that didn’t seem like anything she’d own. “How about I top you off?”

  “Thanks,” she said and passed it to him. “Just a tad of cream, no—”

  “I know, Mallory.”

  “Oh. Right,” she murmured, looking away.

  He headed to the kitchen, wondering about the few moments of awkwardness between them. They’d known each other for about as long as he’d known any other living soul, with the exception of his mother, and he hadn’t seen her in seventeen years. He knew how Mallory took her coffee, that she loved shrimp but hated any other kind of seafood, drank only real colas and none of the diet stuff. And she would sooner have a tooth pulled than face even the tiniest spider. Which said a lot considering how many times she booked and canceled dentist appointments.

  The oversize blue mug she’d left by the coffeemaker also said a lot. She’d kept it at the Renegade because she knew he hated puny cups that couldn’t hold more than a few gulps. Yep, they knew each other pretty damn well, and it was obvious to him something was bothering her.

  Some of the cupboards were open, every one of them bare. Boxes were stacked in the corner, still taped shut. She had a dish towel with big yellow sunflowers on it hanging off the fridge door. Its twin sat folded on the counter. He thought about the floral love seat and daisy-bordered hand towels in the bathroom. Huh. She’d never struck him as the flower type.

  No other kitchen things were lying around ready to be put away. She still had a lot of unpacking to do. He’d finish unloading the U-Haul, then stick around and help for as long as she’d have him.

  Frustrated and confused, he fixed her coffee, adding just the right dab of cream. He left his black and paused to take a sip.

  Sex had to be the problem.

  Not the physical part. Last night couldn’t have gotten any better. He was getting hard just remembering...

  And he needed to cut that shit out right now. He couldn’t afford to let his brain get fogged up.

  He got to the living room and stopped so abruptly that some of Mallory’s coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug.

  Was that it? Last night he’d sworn to her he wouldn’t initiate anything. And he’d stayed true to his word. The way he remembered it, Mallory had started messing around first. But what if he was wrong? What if he’d—?

  “Hey, why are you just standing there?” She pushed to her feet and rescued her mug of coffee. She was wearing the same Daffy Duck T-shirt. It was slipping off one shoulder. No bra.

  He’d have to watch where his eyes landed.

  “Gunner?”

  He lifted his gaze. “What was that?”

  Her expression troubled, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Good question. “Let’s sit down. Okay? Just for a few minutes.” He gestured to the love seat.

  “I’m going to hate this,” she muttered. “Aren’t I?”

  “No.” He cleared a spot for them, and then cleared his throat. “I don’t think so.”

  Cradling her mug in both hands, she lowered herself to the love seat and angled her legs away from him as he sat next to her. But she never looked away from his face. Just bit at her bottom lip, distracting him, adding to his frustration.

  Aft
er taking a quick sip of coffee, he set his mug on the table. “I start kissing you and I’ll get carried away. Don’t let me do that.”

  “Um.” She frowned, and then cracked a small smile. “Okay.”

  Gunner took a breath. He had a good idea of what he needed from her to fill in the missing pieces. Damned if he could come up with a subtle way to ask.

  “Go ahead, Gunner,” she said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  He nodded. “How many men have you been with?”

  Mallory blinked. Her jaw slackened. Then her startled eyes narrowed to a glare. “How many women have you screwed?”

  “A lot,” he said, keeping his expression bland, regretting like hell being so direct.

  “A hundred?” She shrugged, her gaze steady and pissed. “Two hundred?”

  He honestly didn’t know. Yeah, he might be a jerk sometimes but he didn’t keep track. And even if he had a number in mind, he wouldn’t admit it. “I’m not trying to be an asshole...”

  “Well, then, you should think about keeping your mouth shut.” She stood abruptly, spilling coffee down the front of her shirt and muttering a curse. “Why would you want to know? It’s a little late to play big brother, don’t you think?”

  Taking the mug from her, he set it down on the table next to his. “Oh, I never wanted that role,” he said, catching her arm and urging her to sit back down. “You know that, Mallory.” He rubbed the soft skin of her inner wrist. “I know you do.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she perched on the edge of the seat cushion. The fight seemed to be leaving her, at least for the moment. Hopefully, she’d understand where he was coming from, despite his clumsy first attempt at making his point.

  “Why would you ask me something like that?” She searched his face, her eyes so hurt it sliced right through him. “I mean, did I—did I disappoint you or something?”