Secret Pressure (Rhinestone Cowgirls Book 4) (11 page)

Her eyes fluttered open —dark and mysterious. He rolled his hips, sliding into her and her insides were on fire. He didn’t know how long he could last, but he wanted to stare at her as she orgasmed.

She lowered her hand between their bodies, finding her core, circling her forefinger over her crease. He sucked in a deep breath, watching her bring herself to a new level of sensation. The combination was a heady mixture, bringing him so close to release. He wanted her to go with him—find pleasure together. He pumped faster, pounding the backs of her thighs with his hips.  She moaned, her body quivering. He pounded her with the intensity of a man who’d hungered for only her. He loved how she liked it a bit rough, could handle it a bit kinky, giving as well as receiving. She didn’t mind a little hair pulling, exploring new positions as long as it didn’t hurt. He’d never hurt her…ever.

He laid his forehead on her shoulder, sensation burning its way from his toes upward through his limbs. He gritted his teeth, holding on, staying in focus, but he was losing the driver’s seat very quickly. He felt her stiffen and her muscles spasmed. He knew she’d reached release, which opened the gates to his own. With one more deep thrust, he lost the last bit of control and climaxed. Her insides clenched his shaft, coaxing him to release every bit of fluid.

He lay there for the longest time, enjoying the feel of her body as the last bit of spasms rocked her muscles. He didn’t want to move, wanted to stay here forever. Once they separated he’d have to face the facts. She shifted, he was probably getting too heavy. He pulled back, his cock sliding from inside her. Yet, he didn’t head to the opposite side of the bed. He held her close, rolling them together, not breaking the connection. Their gazes met, and there, in the depths of her beautiful, telling eyes he could see the truth. This wasn’t a permanent thing. They only had tonight.

He looked down at a pearl of remaining cum on the slit of his head. He should be freaking out. He hadn’t used a condom. But he had no worries. He knew Ruby, heard her when she’d said she hadn’t been with anyone since him. How was that possible? It made this moment even more special.

This woman always reached inside of him, making him think of his future. He could try as much as he liked, as long as he could, to convince himself that one day he would wake up and she would no longer be hiding in the respites of his mind. Maybe he’d meet another woman and he’d fall in love, but he knew he’d never forget Ruby, and she’d always be in his heart. No one, not now, not ever, could take her place.

****

Ruby fluttered her eyes, then opened them. The warmth of a thigh over her hip and the rhythmic breathing in her ear made her freeze.  She had fallen asleep. With Jobe. In his hotel room.

She gulped and put her hand to her mouth, remaining still. Her skin tingled from making love, like she’d received an all over tongue massage. Her head was spinning from the realization of what she’d done—what they’d done. Her entire past rushed through her mind in a blur. She wanted to be here, with Jobe, but how would she tell him about Jack? He’d never forgive her. She knew him well enough to understand he’d find her secret a betrayal.

Fear curled through her. Her nerves were sensitive and truth needled its way through her groggy brain. She’d actually lost herself in him again.

The curtains were closed, preventing any light from seeping through. She had no idea how long she’d slept or what time it was, but she felt amazingly rested. She shifted carefully, not wanting to wake him, as she read the time of the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:15 AM.
Oh no! Damn!
She sucked in a breath, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip until she felt the sting. It was morning! She’d stayed out all night, the first time since Jack was born. She was a mother, for crying out loud, and wasn’t allowed having sexcapades—even if it was with a man who she’d never stopped loving.

Yes! That was the truth. She loved him.

She rubbed her forehead, getting a grip on the stirrings in her heart.

They’d both said a lot of things during dinner, admitted to some crazy things. But did he love her? Not possible. She rolled her gaze over his profile. “Do you love me?” she whispered. He didn’t move.

An image of Jack shot through her mind. He’d want to know his father.

Her hopes and dreams were out in the open and she had to reel them in. She couldn’t face him this morning. She couldn’t bare looking at him and saying goodbye. And yet, did she have to?

With the stealth of a panther, she slid from Jobe’s hold and across the bed, glancing at him over her shoulder. The man was as good looking asleep as awake. His dark, messed hair looked stark against the white pillow case. A layer of scruff covered his jaw. And lower, she gulped, was a part of him that’d brought her a night of erotic pleasure.

But what really got her? She didn’t want to leave, at least without seeing him again. Yet, where would that lead?

She needed to run, fast. She couldn’t act foolish while flying on a post-sexual high. It was too dangerous. In one moment she could untie the bind within her and admit to everything—Jack, love and her wishes.

She needed to get away before this all became a crazy mess.

Grabbing her clothes from the floor, she hurried and dressed, until it came to one missing heel. She looked everywhere. Behind the curtains, the trash can, and even under the bed. No luck.

Jobe stirred and her body went on alert. Holding her breath, she froze, watching him, waiting for any signs that he was awake. He stayed asleep. If she didn’t leave soon she would have to face him, and tell him the truth.

Shoe or no shoe, she had to get the hell out of there.

She started for the door, but stopped. There was something she had to do.

Glancing around the room, she found a piece of paper and pen, writing…

“We should talk. It’s important. Call me.”

Wherever the chips would fall, she needed to come clean.

Placing the note on the desk, she slipped out of the room.

Running her hands over her wrinkled dress and looking at her bare feet, she sighed. She hoped she didn’t run into anyone she knew. She hadn’t even looked at herself until she was in the elevator and alone. Grabbing a compact mirror from her purse, she popped it open and cringed. Her hair was all over the place. And worse, her makeup had smeared below her eyes. Combing her hair with her fingers, which didn’t do much, she applied tinted lip gloss just as the doors dinged on the third floor. Who would be up this early on a Saturday morning?

The same couple from last night. Just her luck. The older, grey-haired woman skimmed Ruby from head to toe, a knowing smirk covering her face. Ruby wanted to say something in her defense, but what would she come up with? Obviously, she looked like she’d been ridden all night by a sexy cowboy. Her body felt it too. It craved more cowboy, but no way would it happen. She had left Prince Charming back in the room, asleep and handsome. Now it was time to go back into reality. Go home to Jack.

Stepping off the elevator, she ignored patrons’ stares as she made her way to the double glass doors of freedom. She took the revolving door, stepped out onto the sidewalk, then stopped in her tracks. “Shit!” She’d forgotten that she didn’t have her car.

All she wanted was a cup of strong coffee and to get home before her son realized she was gone.

Reaching for her phone, she checked it for any missed calls. Not even one. She’d have to take a cab, she had no choice. She only hoped that she wouldn’t have to face anyone until she washed the morning from her body.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jobe sat up, blinking against the brightness of the sunlight streaming through the window. His head pounded and his heart beat fast. He looked over at the empty side of the rumpled queen bed and his stomach twisted. Fuck! She’d done it again. She left without saying goodbye.

Jerking the sheet to the side, he got up and marched across the room, looking for any signs that Ruby had truly been with him here last night. There wasn’t a trace of her except for the wrinkled bed sheets and the satisfying chafing in his groin. He gritted his teeth as realization popped into every cell of his brain.

He strolled across to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out from the seventh floor window down onto the street. Holy shit! He caught a glimpse of her just as she stepped inside of the back of a cab.

Tightening his hands into fists, he growled and let the curtain fall back into place.

They’d had a good time last night. They’d shared a few laughs in between going at each other like gluttonous rabbits. Why had he thought it’d be any different between them?

He shoved a hand through his hair, hearing strands break. He shouldn’t be angry, he couldn’t allow her to take control of his emotions. He’d known the risks—or maybe he didn’t.

Groggy, with an invisible dark cloud looming over his head, he felt like something one would find on the bottom of their shoe. He stomped to the small refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, uncapping it. The cold liquid did nothing to ease the tension. He got pissed off even more.

Why couldn’t he be with Ruby as he was with the other women? Crawl out of bed before sunlight had an opportunity to bring baggage along with it. Reason was, Ruby wasn’t like all of the other women. Never had been. And last night was a reminder of that fact. He’d come four times in one night. That had to be a record for him. Hell, he probably could have a few more times because his dick acted like it’d never tasted a better pussy. Truth was, he hadn’t.

He should just pack his bag and head home, back to work.

He found his crumpled jeans, grabbed his cell from the back pocket and hit Cal’s number on speed dial. Three rings and the man still hadn’t answered. Maybe he got lucky. Or maybe he was still sleeping.

Stomping to the bathroom, Jobe turned on the water to freezing and got in. He caught his breath as the icy water splashed down his warm body, but it did exactly what he’d wanted. His dick went flaccid—finally. Switching the water to hot, he soaped a washcloth, scrubbing every inch of his tired body, washing away memories. Hell, that’d be a worthless attempt. Her scent and memory were etched into his skin like a branding. He might as well give up and realize he wasn’t going to get over her.

Shutting off the water, he draped a thick cotton towel around his waist and stepped back out into the main room. He stood over the AC vent and allowed his body to dry in the cold air. Loneliness swept over him. He didn’t want to go back to his bored existence, working to relieve a strain that could never be salved. He needed to get his life in order before he lost all chance for happiness.

Finding a pair of clean jeans in his suitcase, he dragged them on, followed by a black T-shirt. His gaze automatically shifted to the bed sheets. He shook his head and gave his clothing on the floor a kick. They hit the wall with a loud
thwack!

He stepped over to the scattered clothes on the floor, picked up the shirt and shook it. A stiletto fell to the carpet. He sighed. Cinderella had lost her shoe. He had a strong urge to throw it out of the window, but what would that solve?

Anger shredded his insides.

He dropped the shoe, sat on the edge of the bed, and buried his face into his palms. He’d paid twenty grand to have his heart dragged through the shithole…again. He was a big fool. Did he have a right to complain? How many times had he wished for a chance to hold her, touch her, and explore her body? Even if only for one night.

Sighing, he thought he felt something different in her last night. He wasn’t an expert with women, but he saw emotion in her. A responsive tug. She’d looked at him with a needful expression, and she spoke of how she’d never forgotten him. Those weren’t lies.

He got up and paced the carpet. Why did she run again?

A man needed to know why a woman would run. He refused to spend another hour of his life wondering, but never knowing the truth. He deserved answers.

Stomping through the room, he placed his bottle on the desk and turned, bumping against the corner. Water spilled across the top and over a notepad, then dripped onto the floor. He picked up the sodden paper—scanning the ink smeared paper. He couldn’t see a word so he crumbled it in his palm and tossed it into the trash can, moaning.

Dropping to the nearby chair, he dragged on his socks and his boots.

One way or another, today would be a new beginning.

****