Her body shook the bed, shook him, as he held the pressure,
helping her extend the climax. Her delicious screams, broken by pants for breath, bounced off the bedroom walls to echo in his skull. Her beautiful face flushed as she came hard. Dylan had never seen anything so amazing. She appeared surprised, relieved almost, in delicious agony. After one more violent tremor, and a hoarse scream, they became intermittent, then stopped.
Her body went lax, and he eased her hips down to the bed, then slid out from under her to lay beside her. He noticed the tear tracks at the corner of her eyes and swiped them away with his thumbs. She heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, then opened
her eyes to look at him. A slow smile curved her full lips. “Wow,” she said on a breath.
Wow was right. Dylan’s heart was probably beating as fast as he could see hers was in the space between her full breasts. His eyes tracked down her perfectly curve
d body to her red-tipped toes then streaked back to her mouth.
“Kiss me, Carrie,” he said lowering his mouth to hers. “See how good you taste,” he murmured as he nipped her lower lip.
A tremor rocked her, and she curled her arm around his neck, turning her body into his. Her fingers shoved into his hair to cradle his skull, as she licked his lips and moaned. He opened his mouth, and her tongue teased his, as she pressed her soft breasts into his chest. “Show me how to make love to you, Carrie. Show me what you want, baby,” he murmured.
She pushed on his shoulder
to gently force him to the mattress, then leaned over him to kiss him again, as she straddled him. Her wet folds slicked over his stomach and he groaned. She was so fucking wet, from his mouth and her climax, he knew he could just slide right up inside her and come. He wanted more.
“Make love to me, Carrie,” he moaned when she pulled back for a breath.
She held his gaze, as she scooted down his body to settle herself on top of his cock. Bracing with her hands on his abs, she slid her wetness down his length and back up. Her opening settled over his head, and wet heat surrounded him. She wiggled her hips in slow gyrations, and his balls tightened.
H
e gripped her hips, his fingers digging in. “If you want more, you better not do that,” he growled. Dylan felt like he was about to come like a teenager, before he even got inside of her.
“Oh, I want more,” she said
, her voice hoarse. She lifted and reached between them to position him, and Dylan sucked in a sharp breath as she took him partially inside her body. The suctioning sound sent darts of fire through him to lodge in his midsection.
She just stayed there,
hovering over him, as her body pulsated around him. Frustration built with every second that ticked by, then the urge to be all the way inside her hit him like a hammer in the chest. He grabbed her hips and pushed upward, sighing when he was finally fully inside her warmth. Her nails curled into his stomach as she leaned her head back to moan.
Carrie
said she wanted to make love to him, like it was something completely different than sex. But this was no different than sex. It didn’t feel any different to him, except he knew this woman a little better than most he had sex with, cared about her and her feelings more.
That’s the only reason he agreed to this.
“What now?” he
grated when she just sat there staring at him. Holding him inside of her. Not moving. He needed her to move. His body was screaming for release.
Carrie smiled, and picked up one of his hands. She brought it to her mouth and kissed his palm, then laced her fingers through his. She picked up his other hand and did the same, then turned their hands so they were palm to palm. Something shifted in his chest, a melting sensation worked through his bones. She lifted her hips, sliding almost off of him and sighed
as she sank slowly back down. Her hazel eyes met his and there was a softness there he’d never seen before.
Dylan
felt like he could almost see into her soul, knew exactly how she was feeling. A buzzing, electrical charge shot through his palm to zap him in the chest. The charge traveled down his body to where their bodies were connected. His dick jerked inside of her, and she gasped, biting her lower lip. The desire to kiss those beestung lips right then, devour them, was so strong, he grabbed her hips. In a flash, he had her on her back and his mouth covered hers. The want, the need, he felt for this woman was overwhelming.
His brain felt short-circuited, as conflicting emotions fought for control there.
Dylan moved his hips against her in a slow hypnotic rhythm, as he took his time kissing her, trying to sort them out. He smoothed his hand over her shoulder, down the curve of her waist, to gently hold her thigh to his side as he plunged into her body. She opened her legs wider, took him deeper, and he shoved his tongue inside her mouth.
Her hands crept from his shoulders to circle his neck, and her nails dug into his back as she kissed him back for all she was worth. Carrie Collins definitely knew how to scramble his brain.
Her hips moved with his and his fingers dug into her thigh and he lifted it higher, increased his pace as his breath came faster, and tension built in his muscles. Her body clenched him on each inward thrust, hugging him for just a second, before he pulled back out for another stroke.
She pulled her mouth away and dragged in a breath, “Faster,” she urged with a kiss on his jaw, before she reclaimed his mouth.
He was never so glad to hear that word in his life. He had been holding back, trying to anyway. The floodgate inside of him opened, he pushed to his knees, grabbed her thigh and slammed into her. Her inner muscles spasmed around him with each forceful thrust. Her mewls turned into whimpers, then intermittent wails, as she lifted her hips to meet his. Her eyes opened and they begged him to take her to paradise with him. The need he saw there was as intense as his own.
He slowed down a bit, his hand found her clit and her body vibrated with her sigh. “Yes, take me with you, Dylan. Love me,” she begged, circling her hips in time with his hand.
That was not something she had to beg for. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was already there. And no matter where he went from here on out, how far he ran, this woman would be with him in his heart. He’d let himself do the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life. Fall in love with caring, kind-hearted, cookie-baking Carrie Collins, a widow with two kids. A man couldn’t get any more tied down than that.
He could if he had sex with her without protection.
That thought hit him just as her body tensed and she screamed his name. It was too late to do a damned thing about anything though, because the tremors in her body dragged his own into the most incredible orgasm he’d had in his life.
Dylan’s
chest squeezed making it hard to drag in a breath, as her body clenched around him. They’d done it again. This time it was all his damned fault. She had mentioned the condoms, but his brain had been so scrambled he hadn’t given it a second thought. He had a feeling this time he wouldn’t be so lucky. But maybe he would be lucky. Maybe this woman and the big man upstairs knew exactly what they were doing to him.
For the first time in his life, Dylan thought maybe it was time he slowed down. If Carrie
was pregnant, that’s what he would do. Give up the rodeo, talk to Joel. Make sure his position at the ranch was secure, and he’d marry her.
Marry her
.
Th
ose words usually sent cold chills up his spine, but didn’t even make him flinch this time, as he collapsed on top of her and sighed. He rolled to the side, and tucked her into his side. He felt her smile against his skin, as she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, and threw her thigh over his. Panic raged inside of him, but he tried to talk himself down.
There were a lot worse things that could happen to him than this. A lot worse that had happened in his life. This was nothing. He could deal with it. Would deal with it.
But not unless he had to. Exhaustion pressed his body to the mattress, and his arm tightened around her.
She sigh
ed, and Dylan kissed the top of her hair, letting her vanilla scent calm him, as he closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t the ideal method of contraception, and he was willing to face the consequences if it didn’t work, but another prayer couldn’t hurt. There was still hope.
Even though h
e felt for sure he’d used up any and all brownie points he might have had with God the last time, he had to try again. And remember to use a fricking rubber, if they had sex again.
Please God, don’t let her be pregnant.
I know I said this last time, but this time I promise I won’t be stupid again
.
And please let the doctor give me my release, so I’m not tempted to do it again.
He sighed, then flinched
.
One more thing, Lord, if she is pregnant, please just let the baby be healthy, and help me be a good daddy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next afternoon, Dylan fought to control the anger burning inside of him. How in the hell had he slept through his appointment
? This was all her fault. She should have just let him go to the doctor yesterday. Instead, she’d insisted he take her with him. Taking her to that trailer had been a mistake. She had worn him out, made him forget everything that was important. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms, gotten so comfortable holding her, he hadn’t woken up until the sun was going down. Totally inexcusable.
Now the doctor couldn’t see him for three weeks. He was booked solid. Three freaking weeks. By then it would probably be too late to get any kind of job with the circuit this year, even shoveling shit. The season would be half over with. He was fucking stuck here
until next year, because of her. He might be stuck forever if she was pregnant.
Dylan was in a helluva fix. Because of her.
God, please don’t let her be pregnant
. That had become his mantra. The one he’d prayed hourly since he woke up yesterday evening. Hell, since he’d fucking met her. He was an idiot.
He hefted another hay bale off the flatbed and tossed it on to
p of the stack beside the barn. He’d been working his ass off today to distract himself from his thoughts, from thinking about her. It hadn’t been easy. The guests were gone now, and the rest of the hands were getting ready to go out. The last thing he wanted to do was go out, be around more women. He had enough woman trouble without adding to it. The one who had totally messed up his head was baking in the kitchen of the big house. Like nothing had happened. He hadn’t gone up to the house this morning for breakfast. He’d eaten a bowl of cereal. He may never go up there again.
Unless she was pregnant. He’d have to go up there then. And he’d have to answer to Joel and Terri. Fuck, he might even lose his job. Wouldn’t that be great? He’d have a kid to support, and no job to do it with.
Panic squeezed his chest, as he lifted another bail and tossed it.
“Hey, Dylan,” a familiar voice said and he spun around ready to blast whoever it was. Chris Collins stood there with this thumbs in his belt loops, looking a little insecure. The kid must’ve realized his mood, because he backed up a step. “I, ah, just
got here. I wanted to say hey, and see if, ah, you had something you needed help with,” he stuttered.
I want something in return
.
I want you to promise that you’ll stay the weekend at the ranch and talk to Chris.
By having sex with Carrie Collins yesterday, he’d all but promised to do that. And it wasn’t the kid’s fault he was pissed at his mother.
In the sour mood he was in, the last thing he wanted right now was company, but this kid needed his help.
If he didn’t hit the lottery, he might wind up being the kid’s stepfather anyway. Dylan’s stomach lurched up to his throat. Yesterday the thought hadn’t seemed all that bad, but today, he couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen to him. Dylan pushed the corners of his mouth into what he hoped was a smile. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you help me finish unloading this hay? You can tell me how it’s going at New Hope.”
Chris grabbed a bale by the wires, but Dylan covered his hand. “Wait!”
Chris jumped back, looking at him like he was afraid he’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he said looking confused.
“No, I just don’t want you cutting your hands,” Dylan explained and
the kid’s face relaxed. “Go into the tack room and get a pair of gloves.”
“Oh, okay,” Chris
replied, turning toward the barn.
Dylan stared behind him thinking. Something puzzled him about that kid. He seemed like a good kid, not the type who would be prone to trouble. He didn’t have the same bad attitude that Dylan had growing up, the bad ass chip on his shoulder that Dylan used to keep people away from him. To keep from
being picked on, or getting his ass kicked at school.
Chris was a lot calmer kid than Dylan had been. He didn’t seem to be a troublemaker. So why the hell was the kid always in trouble
? That was the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. But getting it out of him would be like pulling teeth. Dylan knew this because he and the kid did share a close-mouthed nature. If he didn’t want to talk about something, he wouldn’t. His secrets were his own. He wasn’t a damned psychiatrist, but Dylan had a feeling that was the root of Chris’s trouble. There had to be a reason he was doing what he was doing.
Chris came back with gloves on his hands, and grabbed a bail. With a grunt
, he tossed it beside the stack to start another row. Dylan picked up a bail too, and carried it over to set it on top of his. “So, you like New Hope?” he asked.
Chris shrugged, and hefted another bale. He shifted the weight of the bale, then tossed it but it landed short. “Sharon’s all right, but Billy is always on my ass,” he said as he walked over to pick it up again. He set it on top of Dylan’s bale, then walked back to the flatbed for another.
“Billy can be a hard ass, but it gets better the longer you’re there. He has to learn to trust you,” Dylan said lifting a bale. It had taken Dylan six months to earn Billy’s trust. After he did, it wasn’t something he wanted to lose. So, he’d toed the line Billy drew every time, and didn’t push the limits placed on him.
It didn’t sound like Sharon or Billy had made much progress with Chris. But it took time, he knew firsthand. “I have a question for you, and you can choose not to answer, if you don’t want to,” Dylan said nonchalantly as he carried another bale to the stack.
This was probably a chore he shouldn’t be attempting, because of the stress it put on his shoulder, but he’d needed some hard work to distract him. He was paying for the distraction now. His shoulder was aching again. Dylan didn’t ask again, he just continued to work, and so did Chris. Four bales later, Chris finally spoke, “Ask me.”
Dylan stopped to sit on the flatbed. He needed a break, and Chris probably did too. He shoved his hat back on his head to swipe his brow with his sleeve
. He patted the spot beside him on the trailer. “Take a break, it’s hot out here.”
Chris looked hesitant, but he finally stepped on a tire and sat beside him. Dylan took time to formulate his question in a way that would probably get him an answer. “How was the pot you smoked at school? You like how it made you feel?”
Dylan looked at him and saw his hands fist, and didn’t miss the tic in his jaw. He didn’t answer for a long time, and Dylan almost thought he wouldn’t. Finally, the kid’s hands loosened and he sighed. “I don’t do drugs. My daddy was a cop.”
From experience, Dylan knew that didn’t mean a damned thing. He’d been in
juvie, and at New Hope with a lot of cops’ kids who did drugs. But he believed Chris was telling him the truth. “How’d you get busted for drugs then?”
“Bad timing,” he mumbled looking down at his hands.
Dylan laughed. “Timing is everything, but that doesn’t explain why you had the drugs, if you weren’t smoking them,” he said evenly. “I got caught once, but it wasn’t timing. I was smoking it. Figured out after the second time I used pot, it wasn’t good. I couldn’t keep my head straight. Once I got caught, it was hard for people to trust me.”
B
illy had caught him out in the barn with the joint he’d gotten from one of the other kids. That is what set him back three months on the trust train, and it had almost set the barn on fire when he tried to snuff it on the hay strewn floor.
Chris gasped. “You smoked pot?” His voice sounded
disbelieving.
“Yep. Sure did. And it definitely wasn’t worth it.”
“Did you go to jail like I did?” he asked.
“You didn’t go to jail. That was
juvie. Jail is much, much worse, and that’s where you’ll end up if you don’t fix things now. If you mess up once you hit eighteen, you go to jail. That’s why you’re at New Hope. That place is the only reason I straightened up in time.”
“They
’re pretty damned strict,” Chris grumbled.
“Beats
juvie or jail,” Dylan shot back.
Chris looked at him. “I guess so. Let me ask you something now,” he s
aid.
“Ask, me anything,” Dylan replied.
“You won’t tell my mom?”
Dylan resisted pumping his fist in victory. The kid was going to talk,
tell him something important. Probably something he hadn’t told anyone else. He shook his head and swiped an X over his chest with his finger.
Chris looked away to ask,
“You ever had someone threaten your family because you owed them money?”
Fear
for Carrie and Izzy shot through him at the kid’s question. But he couldn’t show it, or Chris would clam up. Dylan had to finish hearing this. He had a really, really bad feeling this kid was in more trouble than Carrie, or anyone knew about. “I don’t have a family,” Dylan replied evenly. “It’s just me. My parents died, and I don’t know where they sent my three brothers. Billy and Sharon are as close to family as I have.”
Chris’s legs started swinging under the flatbed. His hands twisted in his lap
, and he just stared at them for what felt like a whole minute. “I know now it was stupid, but I was carrying those drugs to find out who else was involved in killing my daddy,” he finally said with a long shuddering sigh. His whole body deflated, and his shoulders slumped. “They sent Uncle Trace to prison, so I figured he did it. But then I found a log book in daddy’s office, and thought there were other people involved too. The cops weren’t doing anything else after they put Trace in jail. I wanted them all to pay for what they did. I used the contact list in the log book to find the gang to see if I could find out anything. Now, Mom says the cops found out it was dad’s friend Seth who did it all. They let Trace go. And I’m in trouble with the drug gang over the drugs and money.”
Holy shit, holy shit
. Dylan’s blood pressure skyrocketed, but he resisted the urge to freak out. If he did that the kid would stop talking. If he came out with,
why in the hell did you get involved with that shit
?, or
how could you be so stupid kid? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!,
Dylan knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere either. “Is that why you stole the truck and shotgun?” he asked as calmly as he could manage.
“
Before we moved, the gang threatened to kill Izzy and mom if I didn’t give them the money I owed them. I couldn’t. Mom found it and used it for us to move. I know they’re still looking for me. If they find us, I know they’ll do it. They’re that mean. I called the guy I dealt with from Uncle Trace’s house to see if I could work things out. He said if I gave him the pot I have stashed, and meet him to do one more run, he’ll let me off the hook.”
“How much do you owe them?”
“Twelve thousand bucks,” Chris replied with a tremble in his voice.
Dylan sucked in a breath through his teeth. “From pot? What were you carrying a kilo?”
“Only a little of the drugs were pot. The school only caught me with a little pot on me. What I was going to deliver that day. The rest is hid out in an old barn close to where I used to go to school. I made trips there on my bike every day before school to pick it up, then dropped it off after school to different people to get the money for them. Eight thousand bucks was the cash I’d collected, but hadn’t given them yet. I put it under my mattress to hide it,” he shrugged. “Mom found it before I could give it to them.”
“Where did you tell her it came from?” Surely Carrie had asked him.
If she knew, Chis would probably not have an ass left. If anyone else knew, the kid would be in juvie until he was twenty-one. Or in a foster home. Dylan shuddered at the thought.
“
I lied and told her I found it in daddy’s office. I knew I’d get in more trouble than I was in already. And drag her into it too. She would’ve called the cops. But I’ve got to do something.” He finally met Dylan’s eyes. “I’m the man of the house since daddy’s dead. I can’t let them hurt my mom and sister.”
Dylan wasn’t about to let that happen either. “You can’t go meet them. That’s not people you want to mess with, Chris. They’d just as soon shoot you as give you a run to clear the debt. They wouldn’t have any problem with lying to get you there to hurt you.”
He huffed a breath. “What should I do then?”
“You shouldn’t do a damned thing. They’re not going to find you out here, unless you tell them you’re here. Don’t call them, or you could put your mom and sister at risk.”
He looked at Dylan again. “So, are you going to tell mom?”
The urge to do just that was so strong, it took physical effort not to hop down off the flatbed and head up to the house to tell Carrie. He promised the kid though, and trust was a two way street. If he did that, Chris would never trust him again. “No, I’m not going to tell her. But you are,” he said gruffly.
“I’m not telling her,” Chris said folding his arms over his chest. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“I’m glad you told me, but you know what you need to do. I’m not going to force you to tell her, but if you’re half the man you say you are, and you’re concerned about your sister and mother, that’s exactly what you’ll do. She can help you. Call the police or come up with another plan to help you.”