It should not happen, but it was going to. Plain and simple. She wanted Sawyer. She needed him, and not even an act of God was going to stop what they’d started.
His hands circled her small waist and slowly made their way up under her shirt, massaging the tension from her muscles as he traveled upward. “You’d best say stop now if you are going to,” he said hoarsely.
“We’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable on your bed, and we wouldn’t wake the children,” she answered.
Thinkbeforeyousayyes, her inner voice said.
No, she argued. Whenyoustarttodissectsomethingandanalyzeyourfindings, it’s already dead. And this feels so right.
He gave her one more chance. “Then you are not saying stop?”
She drew his lips down to hers and answered him with passion.
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, and she shut the door so the kittens wouldn’t disturb them. She slid down his frame and stood before him, eyes locked with his as she removed his shirt, undid his belt and zipper, and slid his jeans off.
“Commando.” She smiled.
He buried his face in her hair and said, “We call it goin’ cowboy, not commando. That’s for the military guys. Now it’s my turn, darlin’, and I open presents like I talk—real slow.”
His mouth started at her neck and moved down to the tops of her breasts, then suddenly the bra hooks were undone, and he slid both bra and shirt down her arms, covering every inch of her skin with kisses. She pressed her breasts against his chest, and her insides melted into a hot puddle.
Nothing was ever definite, but in that moment, Jill’s soul had found a permanent home. And Sawyer was definitely a part of it. He removed her jeans, bikini underwear, and socks, and walked her backwards to the edge of the bed.
“I need you.” Sawyer reached for a condom and quickly put it on.
“Not as bad as I want you.” She fell onto the bed and pulled him down on top of her. She arched, and he slid inside, his lips never leaving hers. The world disappeared. She and Sawyer were wrapped in a cocoon inside a vacuum. She heard nothing but his hard breath and felt nothing but his body, lips, and hands. She wanted nothing but more and more of what Sawyer delivered.
She tried to hold back, but it wasn’t possible. “Sawyer,” she moaned, and the cocoon unraveled, the vacuum exploded, and he collapsed.
She reached up and cupped his face. “That was amazing.”
His lips found hers once more and he moved to one side, wrapping both arms around her and keeping her near. He pulled the covers over them and whispered, “Stay with me all night, Jill. Don’t leave.”
“My legs wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to,” she said.
Chapter 20
Jill stood under the shower, pulsating water rinsing the shampoo from her hair. For the first time since she’d arrived on Burnt Boot, she didn’t want to get rid of the barroom smell. The smoke and beer mixed together reminded her of the amazing night she’d spent with Sawyer.
She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and slipped her arms into a thick emerald-green terry cloth robe. Shutting her eyes, she went back to the previous night. Now it was time for the awkward moment when they had to say that it was a one-night stand and start dissecting things. Number one: they had to live together, so it was a bad idea. Number two: they had to work together at three different jobs, so it was a bad idea. Number three: neither of them really trusted in lasting relationships, so it was a bad idea.
A phone rang, and she recognized her aunt Polly’s ringtone, so she hurried out of Sawyer’s bedroom. Kittens chased her toes peeking out from the bottom of the robe as she almost dived to the sofa toward her phone and answered it on the fourth ring with a giggle.
“What’s so funny this morning?” Polly asked.
“Piggy and Chick.” Jill sat down on the sofa, and the two kittens climbed the tail of her robe all the way to her shoulder.
“And they are?”
“Kittens,” Jill said.
“Well, thank God you don’t have pigs and chickens living in the bunkhouse. Where did you get kittens?” Polly asked.
Sawyer put a cup of coffee in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “Good mornin’,” he whispered.
“Do those cats talk?”
“No, that was Sawyer.”
“He’s a good man—that Sawyer is. You’d do well to wake up and see what’s right in front of your nose. Now tell me more about the kittens. Did y’all find that litter in Gladys’s hay barn? Old mama cat must’ve been gone, or you wouldn’t have gotten near them. She’ll scratch your eyes out if you even look at her babies.”
“Quaid brought in Ollie. I named her that after the pig in a kid’s movie about a spider and a pig. Then in a little bit, Tyrell brought in a yellow cat, and I named it Audrey after a chicken in another kid’s movie. But Sawyer calls them Piggy and Chick,” she said.
Polly guffawed. “Don’t tell Gladys. I want to tell her. The reason I called is to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped again after that craziness last weekend. Are you going to church this morning?”
“Of course. Sawyer is cooking breakfast. How about you?”
“No, not today. We see the doctor this week, and if they say I can start to use crutches, maybe we’ll try it next week. I hate this big boot thing on my foot, but Verdie keeps remindin’ me that it damn sure beats one of them old plaster casts. She’s coming over after church again, and we’re going to set up a Yahtzee game. You and Sawyer want to join us?”
“No, ma’am. We’re taking naps. Tell Aunt Gladys that we’ll be glad to do the evening chores if y’all get into a heated game. Do you still bet on the games?”
“Hell, yeah. It wouldn’t be any fun if we didn’t put some money on the table. Call us when y’all wake up, and we’ll talk about chores. Keep your head low and dodge any bullets in church. I heard the preacher went to both ranches, trying to set up a powwow to make peace, but neither Mavis nor Naomi is havin’ a bit of it.”
“That’s the gist of what I heard at the bar last night,” Jill said. “Things got tense, but no fighting.”
“Use that shotgun if you have to. That’s what it is there for. Most of the time folks don’t want to take a chance on whether or not you’ll shoot ’em, and they calm right down.”
“Waffles are ready,” Sawyer yelled from the kitchen.
“Go on and eat. Any man who cooks is a jewel to be treasured. Don’t keep him waiting,” Polly said.
The table was set for two, as usual, with one exception. Right smack in the middle was an old chipped crock cookie jar. Glazing cracks started at the bottom and wove their way in different directions, some on the sides, with others winding their way around in circles.
“Are we having cookies with our waffles?” Jill asked.
“Look at it closely.” Sawyer grinned. “Pay especially close attention to the lid.”
“Daisies.” She smiled.
“I would have gone out into the pasture and picked some wild ones for you, but it’s the wrong time of year. That’s all I could find with a daisy on it,” Sawyer said.
Rule number one, two, and three disappeared as she rounded the table and looped her arms around his neck. She rolled up on her toes and moistened her lips seconds before his mouth claimed hers in a scorching hot kiss that fried any remnants of future rules. He tugged at the belt of her robe, and his hands slipped inside to graze her rib cage and come to rest on her waist. Then in a flash, the kiss broke, and he picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom.
The towel fell off her hair, but she didn’t care. For such an up-close view of his cowboy ass underneath those flannel pajama pants, she’d gladly air-dry her hair upside down on the way to the bed, where other delicious things might happen.