Callie's Cowboy (13 page)

“No occasion,” Sam said, also pretending innocence. “Mom wanted to take Deana shopping, and I thought it would be a good time to visit with … a friend.”

Friend? Had she misread him? Was this merely a gesture of apology for his unfounded accusations of the other day? But when she looked into his eyes, the utter sincerity she saw there took her by surprise. The air crackled with electricity as they stared at each other with possibilities brimming between them.

“No, more than a friend,” he said, his voice husky. “I mean it. I've never been in love with anyone else, not even my wife. I'm ashamed to say I married a woman I didn't love, but at the time I thought affection would grow into love. It didn't. Because every time I looked at her, I thought of you and wished you were there instead. Even if she'd halfway tried to be a good wife, poor Debra didn't stand a chance.”

Callie was too stunned to speak for a moment. She'd expected a sexual overture. She hadn't expected this abrupt outpouring from Sam, which had sounded something like a rehearsed speech. He so seldom talked
about his feelings. Back when they were dating, he'd mentioned that he loved her maybe a couple of times, one of those being when he'd proposed marriage.

“Do you love me now?” she asked, her voice quavering. She hadn't anticipated things getting this heavy this fast. She felt ill prepared to deal with it. She hadn't analyzed her own feelings for Sam or tried to separate nostalgia and remembered emotions from the here and now, the real thing. All she'd known was that she wanted to be with him, whatever the circumstances.

He shrugged helplessly. “I'm still getting acquainted with the woman you've become, Callie. But I'm pretty sure that if I were given half a chance, I'd fall in love with you all over again, even if it wasn't the smartest thing to do.”

“Oh, Sam, I …” Words simply failed her. Her throat tightened, and tears of some very strong emotion threatened to spill from her eyes.

Sam went to her then and put his arms around her, holding her as gently as he would a fragile bird or priceless porcelain. “Don't cry, darlin',” he said, rubbing her back.

She settled against him, listening to the soothing, steady beat of his heart. The familiarity of his embrace was like a balm to her soul. It was almost like they'd never been apart.

The oven timer went off. Sam reached over and silenced it, then turned off the oven. “Callie?”

“Mmm.”

“Unless you stop me, I'm going to pick you up and carry you into the bedroom and have my way with you.”

“I won't stop you,” she said, her words muffled
against his chest. Her soul ached for completion. For years she'd felt as if she and Sam were a book with the last page unread. It was time. “Let's finish what we started all those years ago.”

He swung her into his arms with almost no struggle. “We're not finishing anything. I prefer to think of it as a start of something even bigger.”

Callie didn't have the heart to argue with him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard. In five swift strides he'd reached the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and he elbowed it open and walked in like he owned the place.

He broke the kiss. Breathing heavily, he laid her on the twin bed, eyeing its small confines dubiously.

“It's a tiny bedroom,” she said, reading his thoughts. “I didn't need a larger bed.”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. “You don't do a lot of entertaining, then?”

“Sam, what a question! Of course not. This is Destiny, Texas, remember? You don't sleep around in Destiny unless you want everyone to think you're a floozy.”

He grabbed her by the ankle and pulled off one of her purple socks, then ran his thumbnail along the sole of her foot.

A delicious shiver worked its way up her spine.

“So you've never …”

“I said ‘not a lot,' ” she quipped. She was no sex goddess, but surely he didn't think she was a virgin.

He pulled off her other sock, then leaned across her, covering her body with his until he was face-to-face
with her. His breath smelled like sweet coffee. “I wish I'd been your first. I sure wanted to be.”

“I wish that too,” she said. “I'm sorry I was such a prude.”

He smiled faintly. “You had strong convictions, and good reasons behind them. I respected you for that, even when I was a raging mass of hormones. I never thought you were a prude.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Somehow, that little bit of understanding about the person she was back then made Callie feel warm all over. “Do we have to talk about it anymore?” She was afraid they might talk themselves out of doing something they knew was a little bit foolish.

“Talk is cheap.” He nipped her earlobe. “I think of myself as a man of action.”

Oh, and such action! Callie closed her eyes, forgot her doubts, and let Sam's hands and mouth and tongue take her to wonderful places she remembered as well as places she'd never been. He took his time, kissing her mouth, her jaw, then her collarbone above her scoop neckline. His fingertips skimmed over the softness of the lilac sweater, lingering on her breasts, then skittered under the hem.

Callie's stomach muscles tightened at that first innocent contact of his hand on her bare skin. She pulled his head against her face and inhaled deeply. Ah, he still washed his hair with baby shampoo. Funny how those little details of his life, things she'd taken for granted when they were kids, could seem so intimate, now. Like knowing the brands of shampoo and shaving cream he preferred.

And the underwear … Hanes cotton briefs. Always white.

Suddenly she had to know. His belt buckle was pressing against her hipbone anyway. She wiggled until he raised up, a questioning look on his face. He was lying half on, half off her, and she slid out from underneath.

“Callie?”

She reached for his belt buckle, nudging him over on his back. “Take off those jeans, cowboy.” She whipped off the belt with one hard yank.

His curious expression changed to one of pure predatory mischief. “Only if you take yours off.” He smiled wickedly. “Or I'll take 'em off for you.” His hand darted out, quick as a cobra, and caught her belt loop.

She laughed and tried to escape, but he was too fast and too strong. In moments he had her back down on the bed, and the battle was on to see who could get whom undressed the fastest.

He pushed her sweater above her breasts, chuckling and muttering something about “color-coordinated wardrobes.”

She pulled out the shirttail of his Western shirt, then unsnapped and unzipped his Wranglers, revealing the white briefs. She murmured something about his predictability, which he didn't understand but obviously didn't care about.

He pulled the sweater over her head and went to work on her bra, unfastening the front clasp with his teeth.

“Show-off!” she objected, giggling at his audacity. Then she reached inside his jeans and wrapped her hand
around his erection, paralyzing him momentarily. He groaned and his body went limp—well, most of it.

“No fair,” he said, breathing hard.

“All's fair in love and war.” She released him and shrugged out of the bra. His eyes, burning with blue fire, feasted on her bareness. His hand followed his gaze, cupping one breast and rubbing the rosy nipple with his thumb.

Now it was her turn to groan. Tears of pure, unadulterated joy threatened, but she savagely swallowed them back. She'd forgotten how good he could make her feel with so little.

The contest was over. She stepped away from him just long enough to unfasten her jeans and shimmy out of them. His eyes followed her every move, hungry, impatient.

She didn't make him wait long. Naked, aching for more of his touch, she helped him pull off his jeans, briefs, socks, and then draped herself over him, allowing his erection to settle between her thighs, poised at her entrance.

He throbbed with his need for her; she vibrated with passion, her eager flesh moving with him, seeking the most advantageous contact, the most thrilling caress. She felt every square inch where they touched, from his roughly haired legs against her smooth ones, to his hard chest against her soft breasts, to his freshly shaven cheek against her lips. His hands, at once rough and gentle, massaged her buttocks and thighs.

She spread her legs a little farther, adjusting herself, holding her breath against that first sensual invasion she knew was only seconds away.

His eyes glazed over for a split second when she lowered herself over his tip. But the man of action quickly returned, encircling her waist with his hands and assuming control. He lowered her the rest of the way with infinite slowness, causing her to shudder with the exquisite, ever-changing sensations. When he had filled her completely, he released her and, without moving, just looked at her.

The tears that had threatened earlier returned, and she couldn't stop them this time.

Somehow, instinctively maybe, he knew her tears were joyful ones. He wiped one off her cheek, then licked the moisture from his finger, as if he wanted to share everything, every nuance of this moment, with her.

She'd dreamed about it so often, even when he was married, even when she thought there was no chance it would ever really happen. But none of her fantasies had prepared her for the absolute perfection of this moment. She wanted to trap it, hold it, but it was, after all, a single moment.

He began to move inside her. Quickly caught up in the new sensations, she didn't waste any energy mourning the passage of time. She coordinated her movements with his, rocking back and forth as he thrust upward, sheathing and unsheathing his hardness within her slick, wet depths.

It was paradise, and it was over too quickly. She dug her fingers into the firm flesh of his shoulders as the sensations built to a crescendo, a crashing waterfall of warmth and light that made all other climaxes pale by comparison. She collapsed against him, still convulsing
with waves and flickers of pleasure. He thrust several more times, his groans of pleasure escalating until he cried out with one, magnificent push.

Her heart soared with his for a few moments. And then they were once again earthbound, two glistening bodies in her tiny twin bed, still on top of the covers. They were once again Callie and Sam, but not the same two people who had entered the room a few minutes earlier.

They remained joined for a long time. Callie savored the intimate coupling, but eventually her legs started to quiver and the position became uncomfortable, so she slid away from him. He made a mild, token protest against the inevitable, then snuggled her against his shoulder, his hand lightly caressing her abdomen.

“Do you—” Callie stopped, surprised at the way her voice had shattered the silence.

“What?”

“Um, do you think it would have been this way if we'd made love before?” She knew Sam would know what she meant by
this way.
Their lovemaking had been unquestioningly spectacular, and if he denied it he was a liar.

Of course he didn't deny it. “I don't think it would have been the same. We were young and inexperienced and frightened.”

“Then I'm glad we waited. Does that seem stupid?” She played with the curly gold hair on his chest.

“No.”

They were silent for a long time. Callie listened to him breathe. Sparrows were chirping outside, and late-morning sunlight filtered in through her gauze curtains,
making patterns on the bed and on their naked bodies. Yup, this was just about as perfect an existence as anyone could wish for. Afterglow.

“There's another reason I came here today, Callie,” Sam said after a while.

Uh-oh. Somehow, Callie got this feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. “And what reason was that?” Instinctively she clung more tightly to him.

“I'm already late getting fall roundup going. I have to return to the ranch.”

“Oh … when?” She tried not to sound as devastated as she felt. She had, after all, known what the game plan was from the very beginning. She just hadn't imagined she'd be losing him so soon.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” A panicky feeling whirled in her stomach.

“I can't delay it. Mom's situation is pretty stable right now. We're waiting on lawyers and such to settle the will and do all the probate stuff. I've asked her to come back to Nevada with me and she's accepted. A change of scenery will do her good.”

“What about the farm?”

“Will volunteered to look after things. He's working nights at the recycling plant.” Sam paused. “Amazing how he's turned around in the past few months. I think Tamra's had a good effect on him.”

Callie kept her opinions about Will to herself. “I don't want you to go so soon,” she said, hating to sound so needy. But she had to tell him what she was feeling.

“I don't want to go at all. But …”

“I know. You have to,” Just like he'd had to go help
his uncle when he was younger. When she was a girl, his willingness to abandon her had hurt. It still did. But at least now she could understand it. Of course he had to go back, if there were problems at Roundrock. The ranch in Nevada was his livelihood. In addition to his own living, he employed several people who depended on him.

She fought the desire to argue with him.

“You could come with me,” he said, quietly, calmly.

“What?” That was the last thing she'd expected to hear from him.

“Well, what better time for a visit? I've asked you a million times over the years to come to Nevada with me to see why I could never give up the ranch, but you always had something more important—”

“Yeah, like a job, or school,” she shot back. “Surely you didn't expect me to—”

“Easy, Callie,” he interrupted before she worked up a full head of steam. “Back then, maybe I did expect you to drop everything and follow me regardless of your situation. What can I say? I was a self-centered kid, like most boys that age. But this is different. You're between jobs. What do you have holding you here right now?”