“You might want to keep holding on,” he supplied helpfully as he drew her other leg over his other shoulder, opening her sex to him. Supporting her with a hand beneath her bottom, he leaned forward to stroke her with his tongue. He swept across the sensitive folds, circling her clitoris, pressing against it, starting a rhythm her body instinctively responded to. He rubbed his free hand over his dick. He was hot, hard, his cock standing upright, waiting. He shoved his tongue into her opening, tasting her sweetness.
There was nothing conservative about her response to him. Her chest and neck were flushed with passion. Short, breathy gasps escaped her parted lips. Her hips bucked against his mouth. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the bars.
He turned his attention to her sensitive nub, laving, pressing, sucking. He speared her with two fingers. In and out, until he felt the first convulsions of her orgasm take her. He pulled back before the waves of pleasure could fully engulf her. She cried out a protest, tightening her legs around his head.
He grinned up at her, offering a last sweep of his tongue before he cupped his hands under her buttocks. He drew her legs off his shoulders, lowering her onto his erect cock, fast, hard, seating himself to his balls in her wet sheath.
She threw her head back and screamed. Her inner walls pulsed over him, pulling him with her into an explosion of ecstasy. He gripped her hips, lifting and slamming her down on top of him, spearing her until he found his release.
When they both returned to reality, Mandy felt limp, drained. Completed in a way that she’d never known was possible. He was breathing as hard as she was. There was an edge in his lean face as he watched her, his big hands still on her hips.
It was sex, pure and simple. There was nothing more to what they had shared, she knew that. But it had never been like this for her. She wanted him again. She wanted him to take her all night long. He left her feeling dazed. Drugged with desire.
She had no business yearning for more. He’d given her what he could. She shouldn’t ask for more. She rose and straightened her bodice, then pulled her panties back on. He turned and removed the rubber.
She opened the hall door, felt the cool air clash with the heated, steamy air from the bathroom. She moved down the hall, feeling adrift, without an oar. Without a compass. Without any means of finding her way back to who she was before Rocco.
She retrieved her coat and was tying the sash when Rocco joined her in the front room. He’d drawn a pair of jeans on. They were zipped but unbuttoned and rode low over his bare hips. He leaned against the opening of the hallway, his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t have to go.”
She stepped into her flip-flops. Decision made.
“Right. Then I’ll walk you back up to the house.” He lifted his jacket off the pegs by the door and slipped into it.
They walked from the bunkhouse to her home in silence. Outside her porch, he caught her hand, twined his fingers with hers.
“Thank you for patching me up.” He looked down into her eyes. A lazy breeze blew a bit of hair over her eyes. He moved it back. He wished he understood her silence, the things her big eyes were saying. “You are an angel, the only light in my very dark life.” She blinked. He thought the dim porch light revealed a pool of moisture in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. “Did I hurt you tonight?”
He hadn’t imagined it. A tear slipped down a cheek when she looked down and shook her head. He pulled her into a hug, feeling an impossible sense of rightness standing there, holding her, having nothing to offer her but himself.
Perhaps he could convince her to wait for him. As soon as he found Zaviyar, or his grave, he would come back. He would begin again-with her, if she would let him.
Sun beat down on the fields the next day, baking the ground, the air, and Rocco. Even the barbed wire he was taking down was hot to the touch. He wore his hat and T-shirt, but had removed his long-sleeved shirt midmorning. His white bandage was smudged and torn in places. He lifted his hat and wiped his forehead on his shoulder. He’d be glad to see the last of the wire. His hands and arms were filled with dozens of nicks from the little metal prickers. Tiny tears with frayed edges dotted the thighs of his jeans.
He took a wheelbarrow full of the discarded wire up to the pile he was building by the toolshed. His stomach reminded him that he’d heard Mandy ring the chow bell a while earlier. When she’d talked him into taking suppers with her, he hadn’t planned to eat three squares. Now he looked forward to each and every meal. He washed up at the utility sink and pulled on his shirt.
Mandy was talking to someone as he came even with the porch of the main house. A man. Rocco started up the steps. Bobby, the rodeo king, sat across from Mandy at a table set for two. Either he’d taken Rocco’s spot, or Rocco was a third wheel at their lunch.
Mandy looked up and smiled. “Rocco, you remember Bobby,” she said.
“Rodeo.” Rocco nodded at the interloper.
“Rocco.” Bobby nodded back.
Rocco swept the table with a glance. “Am I interrupting? Thought I heard the chow bell, but I could have been mistaken.”
“No-you’re fine! Sit down. I saved you some. Bobby came over for a visit, and I asked him to stay for lunch.” Mandy handed Rocco a plate and silverware from a stack of items on the far side of the table. “Hope you don’t mind a cold pasta chicken salad?”
“Looks great,” Rocco said as she passed the serving bowl. “Taking a break from the circuit?” he asked Bobby as he filled his plate.
Rodeo nodded. “Last night was my first one back in town. Thought I’d swing by and visit my gal.”
Rocco arched a brow. “Your gal?” He looked at Bobby, then at Mandy. “Didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Was it his imagination or did her expression tighten?
Before she could answer, Rodeo spoke for her. “We’ve got an on-again off-again kind of thing.”
“That a fact?” Rocco asked, sending Mandy an angry look.
“And right now, we’re off again,” Mandy said, shooting a dark look at Rodeo.
“I told you I’d overlook what happened last night. I get that he came back not quite right and needed your attention.”
Silence blanketed the porch. Rocco stared at his food, wondering if Mandy had said something about him, about what happened when they got home to Rodeo.
“I don’t even know what that means, Bobby. Why would you say something like that?”
“Oh, come on. It’s all over town, his fit on Main Street earlier this week, his meltdown at the diner, the way he was at Winchester’s last night?”
Rocco stood up, pushing his chair away with the back of his calves. “Time for you to go,” he said to Rodeo.
“I’m trying to talk her into a weekend away,” Rodeo continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“She’s putting in eighteen-hour days trying to get the center open. She doesn’t have time to play with you. And I’m not sure you heard her earlier, but I did. She said your on-again off-again thing is off. For good.”
Rodeo stood up. “I know she’s been working hard. She needs a break. And I won’t be able to spend much time with her over the summer, so I thought we should have our weekend sooner rather than later.”
Mandy stood up and began gathering the serving dishes. “Rocco’s right. I can’t take any time off right now. In fact, I need to get back to work. Thanks for stopping by, Bobby. Good luck at your next event. I’ll be rooting for you!”
“That’s it?” Bobby looked from her to Rocco and back again. “Because he said so we’re done?”
“No. We were done long ago. Maybe before we even began. I’m sorry, Bobby.”
He retrieved his hat and shoved it on his head. He gave her one last reproachful look before heading down to his brand-new Ford Dually Crew Cab. Ivy said his horse trailer matched his truck with his name boldly lettered on the side. He had to be doing well on the rodeo circuit to afford a rig like that.
