When It's Right (23 page)

“He kind of looked like that biker dude I saw when we went shopping the first week I was here.”

That got Blake's attention and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Have you seen him any other times?” He didn't want to frighten her more, but he needed to know if some guy was following her around. He needed to know if she wasn't seeing a real man but her dead father and might need professional help.

“I think I saw him when I went shopping with Grandma Dee and at Justin's school when I met with the sheriff. He was far away, but walking toward me. I rushed Justin into the truck and left.”

“Gillian, why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I can't be sure it's real. The last thing I want is for you to think I'm crazy.”

“It's never happened on the ranch, except that one time when Gabe surprised you?”

“No. Just in town. I get anxious when we leave the ranch.”

“Why?”

“I don't really know my way around town or anyone here. I feel like I have to be on guard.”

“Okay, we can fix that. I'm happy to come to town with you, show you around, and introduce you to the ­people I know. Then you'll feel more comfortable.”

That didn't assuage the feeling in his gut that some guy was lurking in the shadows watching her. Who? Why?

He didn't like it and tried not to let it show. She'd asked him not to be so overprotective, but he couldn't help himself.

“Come on. You're safe with me.” He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled close to his side. He walked her out of the restaurant to the truck and didn't say a word about the tremble that rocked her body against his. He scanned every corner of the lot, every parked car, and the street. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He helped Gillian into the truck and smiled when she slid to the middle and set the pie on the seat closest to the door. He went around to the driver's side and climbed in. She leaned into his side and rested her head against his shoulder, her arm tucked through his, her hand on his thigh.

Neither of them said a word until they were well on their way home and nothing but darkness, the stars putting on a show, and open land surrounded them.

“I had a really good time tonight. Thank you for everything. I loved it.”

“I'm glad, sweetheart.”

Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it out of her purse. “It's Justin.”

“Take it. Tell him I said goodnight.”

Gillian finished the short call and stared up at him. “When you were gone, he told me what you said about how he'd always come first.”

“As it should be,” Blake confirmed.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I am so grateful and happy you are. I love you, Blake. I really, really love you.”

Blake wrapped his arm around her shoulders, held her close, and kissed her on the side of the head. He drove faster to get her home and into his bed. When they pulled up in the driveway that led to his house, she didn't say a thing.

He walked her up the porch steps and straight through the front door. He left her in the great room only long enough to put the pie in the refrigerator. She stood before the mantel, staring at the pictures of him and his family, until he came back, took her hand, and tugged her along with him down the hall and straight to his room. He'd left a soft light glowing. She stood beside him and stared at the massive bed strewn with red rose petals. Their sweet scent filled the room.

Nervous about what she thought of his corny attempt at romancing her, he stared down at her and waited. She didn't disappoint. Her face turned up to him, and a smile spread across her lips and lit her eyes.

“This isn't what I expected.”

He'd tried to make the room nice for her. He'd even bought new sheets and a cover for the massive king-­size platform bed. He liked the clean lines and chunky wood frame and headboard. He'd tried to make the simple bed more appealing with a navy blue and white patterned quilt, with navy-­trimmed white pillow shams that looked like they belonged in some swanky hotel. Cost as much too, but he'd wanted her to feel comfortable here. He liked the effect and complement to his marblewood dressers and side tables. He tried to see the room through her eyes. It worked. Definitely nice, despite the sparse decorations, which consisted mostly of photographs of rocky streams and waterfalls with lots of green trees.

“You surprise me, Blake. I kind of expected nothing but cowboy country. This is country chic. I love it.”

He let out a heavy sigh.

She smiled, turned into his arms, and gave him a sexy smile. “Now love me,” she whispered a second before her lips met his.

He pressed her close and unzipped her dress. He trailed his fingers up her spine to her shoulders and pushed the dress down her arms to puddle at her feet. He stared down at her, standing in her white lace bra and panties. His mouth watered and his hands ached to get a hold of all that creamy skin.

“I liked the dress, but I love you naked even more.”

She smiled, then giggled when he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off her feet, took her mouth in a deep kiss, and walked her to the bed. He laid her down under him, crushing the rose petals at her back, and trailed kisses down her neck to her soft breast. He licked the top and slid his hand to the bra clasp in back, unlatched it, and pulled the pretty, but offending, barrier away. He took her tight nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, just the way she liked it. He loved the moan that escaped her lips. Her whole body went lax beneath his in a soft exhale of surrender.

He kissed his way down to her belly. She worked the buttons free on his dress shirt at his wrists. He hooked his fingers in the nothing of a strap at her hip and pulled her panties down her legs as she pulled his shirt off over his head. Somehow, her panties got tangled in his shirt. He let go, and she tossed both things away. He stood at the end of the bed, shook out his hair, and reached for his belt. She came up and kneeled in front of him, her hands sliding up his belly to his chest. She nipped his chin with her teeth and kissed her way along his neck and down to his nipple. She licked him. He nearly lost his patience for her wondering mouth and hands. He barely kicked off his shoes and the slacks he'd dropped to his ankles. Eager to be skin to skin with her, he playfully pushed her back on the bed. She landed with a bounce and a saucy smile on her lips. She wore only her slinky sandals. He took each foot, pulled the shoes off, and dropped them to the floor. He worked off his socks and stood before her in nothing but his boxer briefs. Her eyes slid down his chest to his hard length. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly slid the boxers down his legs. The heat in her eyes scorched him. His balls ached, his cock throbbed, he needed to be inside her. Now.

He grabbed the condom out of the bedside drawer and sheathed himself. He didn't lay down the length of her but reached for her, sweeping his wide hands down her thighs to her knees. He swept them back up, spreading her legs wide. Her eyes closed, and she gave herself over to him. Soft kisses along her thigh made her moan. He brushed his fingers over her soft folds up and down, then sank one finger deep into her slick core. She tilted her hips, begging for more, and he gave it to her, circling the wet nub with his thumb. He rested his chest on the bed between her legs and replaced his finger with his tongue, licking, tasting, tempting her to the edge.

“Blake.”

He kissed his way up her supple stomach, as anxious for her as she was for him, detoured at her breasts to lick, taste, suck her hard, and make her want him even more. He slid his chest against her breasts, took her mouth in a deep kiss, sliding his tongue over hers, and settled between her widespread thighs. Her fingers dug into his back, she rolled her hips up to meet his, and took him in, surrounding him with her warmth and love.

She matched his every thrust. Every sigh and moan he brought out from her, she evoked the same response in him. He made her burn and followed her into the fire.

Gillian woke to
the sound of Blake in the shower. The sun had barely peeked over the mountaintops. Its first rays brightened the darkness to murky gray. She stared around the unfamiliar room at the lovely photographs on the walls. She could almost hear the trickle of the streams. Of course, the sound of the shower helped.

The smell of coffee dragged her out of the big bed. Reluctant to put her dress back on just yet, she snagged Blake's white dress shirt off the floor and pulled it on over her head. She rolled up the sleeves and padded her way down the hall. She stopped outside one of the three spare rooms and stared at the Lego village under construction. Several unopened box sets sat on the floor. Someone had started a police cruiser. The tiny policeman stood, arm outstretched, with a gun in his hand pointed at a ninja holding a sword. She smiled and shook her head. A stuffed horse and puppy lay on the queen-­size bed, along with Justin's collection of rocks. He liked to find the shiny ones down by the river.

She followed her nose to the coffeepot in the kitchen. He'd brought her here, so she didn't think twice about opening his cupboards to find a mug. By the coffeepot, of course. She found a plate in the cupboard next to the stove. A fork in the top drawer as well. She pulled the pie from the fridge and cut a big slice with a knife she took from the butcher block. She put the pie away and stood at the counter, staring into the great room, eating her pie and drinking her coffee. She spotted the bookshelf and the thick picture albums. She walked over, grabbed the first one, and paused to stare at the intricate Hot Wheels track on the four-­foot-­square coffee table.

“Not bad.”

She sidestepped several metal cars and took the book back to the kitchen counter with her. She flipped through the pages filled with pictures from Blake's life, from the time he was a boy smaller than Justin to middle school. The pictures made her happy and sad all at the same time. What a wonderful family life he had growing up. He was never alone in any of the pictures. At least one, and usually all, of his brothers joined in his fun. Every picture, another smile.

Blake walked down the hall and stopped and stared at her in his kitchen. Bare feet, jeans unbuttoned, no shirt, washboard abs, solid pecs, biceps she wanted to lick, gorgeous face, and wet hair raked back. No man should look that good in the morning. Her man did.

“Do you have a kid I don't know about?” she asked and took another bite of the sinfully rich chocolate cream pie. His heated gaze watched the fork slide out of her mouth.

“No. Just yours.”

“That's a nice racetrack.”

“I love that thing. I don't know how he does it, but he beats me every time.”

She laughed under her breath. “You've got a village going up in your spare room.”

“We're working on it. The kid loves to build. He's smart. Reads the directions, follows every detail.”

“Where did all that come from?”

“I got most of it on my trip to Nevada. We were busy during the days, but without you in my bed, the nights got boring.”

“So you went shopping for toys for my brother.”

Blake poured himself a cup of coffee and turned back to her. “Yes. I did. There's no children here for him to play with, so I play with him. Jeff came over a ­couple of times. We've got a whole racetrack competition going between the Camaro, the Corvette, and a Firebird.”

That made her laugh even more. “I didn't think of it, but maybe I need to set up some play dates for him.”

“Won't stop the racetrack fun. I plan on winning the trophy.”

Gillian stared at the tinfoil goblet on the table. “Is that what that is?”

“Your brother is going down. That thing is mine.”

His deadly serious tone made her laugh more. He leaned against her back, his hands planted on the counter on both sides of her. She forked up another bite of pie and fed him over her shoulder.

“I can make you a decent breakfast,” he said around the mouthful.

She turned to him and ran her hand down every hard muscle, from his chest to his waistband. “Who wants decent when I have decadent.”

Blake picked her up under the arms and set her on the counter, moving between her thighs. He pulled her close, his hard length pressed to her center. He dragged his dress shirt up and over her head, leaving her sitting naked on the counter.

“You are now my indecently decadent woman.” He kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping along hers. He tasted of the chocolate pie, coffee, and mint toothpaste. She cupped his face, his freshly shaven skin pressed to her palms. His hands cupped her bottom and squeezed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her aching breasts to his hard chest.

The heat washed through her like water down a hose—­fast and swift. “Blake.”

Completely in sync with her, he swept his hand up her thigh, over her soft folds, and thrust two fingers deep into her slick core. She sighed out her relief, but it was short-­lived when he pulled free and backed away.

He kissed her hard and quick to distract her and pulled a condom from his pocket.

“Aren't you prepared.”

“I'm a fucking boy scout,” he said, his teeth clenched on the wrapper as he tore it open.

She undid his jeans, pleasantly surprised to find his thick erection spring free. No underwear.

“Commando.”

“Impatient.”

He rolled the condom down the length of his dick. She cupped his balls and bit his shoulder at the base of his neck, licking the small hurt to soothe him. He growled something feral, clasped her thighs in his hands, and thrust into her, hard and deep. Neither of them wanted slow and sweet this morning. He took her hard and fast but made sure she found as much pleasure in the furious joining as he did.

She panted with her chin propped on his shoulder. His breath sawed in and out at her neck. His arms banded around her back held her close. She combed her fingers through his damp hair. Spent. Happy. “Good morning,” she said with a smile.