Courting Her Rebel: (Taken by Cowboys: Part 2) A Billionaire Western Romance

Courting Her Rebel

(Taken by Cowboys: Part 2)

By A.L. Loire

Copyright 2015 Enamored Ink

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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He didn’t want to leave her. Getting up and going went against every last fiber of Spencer’s being, against the flow of blood that ran through his veins and the air that rushed to his lungs. Stay with her.
Never leave her side
, some unknown voice beckoned him. It was a voice he’d never heard before, one that seemed to originate deep inside of him. It echoed still as he emerged from the grove of pine trees that hid that lake and started down the path towards the dining lodge.

After making love to her, all he wanted to do was bury his face in her hair, still damp from the lake, and sleep on and on like that until the sun disappeared into evening. He couldn’t give in to his desires, though—at least, not any more than he already had. He had to attend to his nightly duties at the ranch. He was expected to be there for every meal to talk with the guests and organize the activities for the night and the following day. Nate would be waiting for him. Getaway Guest Ranch was half his, after all. He couldn’t leave his best friend and business partner hanging, especially without any warning.

But the look in her eyes when he’d told her he had to leave, the late-afternoon sun drying the cool creek water and perspiration from their bodies as they lay on the soft grass on the bank, had been almost enough to make him say, “To hell with responsibilities.” It wasn’t just a look of disappointment, which he could have dealt with. It was a look that said,
I knew it
. She thought he was just like the rest of those greedy, soulless New York bastards just looking for a piece of ass. He grimaced into the red sunset that was bleeding down over a distant mountain.

True, he used to be one of them, always running around with a different woman, seeking satisfaction but no real connection just to fill the emptiness he felt inside. But he had since changed since leaving his old life on in the East, as had Nate. He hadn’t done the “casual” thing since he’d moved out West. It simply didn’t interest him. Maybe that’s what happened when you hit thirty and were no longer a part of the testosterone-driven world of Wall Street.

That was why this turn of events with Jess had rocked his world so completely. Part of him could hardly believe it had happened, but the other part of him felt like it was totally natural. It had felt so right. The memory of her beautiful, lush body wrapped around his in the cool mountain pool, her lips and tongue seeking his with passionate hunger, was almost too perfect to be true. And then it had gotten even more incredible when he’d laid her on the smooth, flat top of a sun-drenched boulder, tasted her sweetness and then sheathed himself to the hilt in her soft, wet folds. With each thrust into her, he had felt more and more alive.

Almost too good to be true—but from the way he felt himself swell below the belt at the vividness of the memory, he knew it had really happened. And he knew that he wanted—no, needed—to feel that sensation again.

Nate was already at the usual table by the time he showed up. The tables were piled high with platters of food, the hard work of their team of chefs, who specialized in high-quality home cooking. His mouth watered at the vinegary scent of ribs that met his nose as he approached the table. He had sure worked up an appetite.

“Where’ve you been all afternoon?” he asked.

Spencer scrambled to think of a story. He’d told Nate about the kiss he’d exchanged with Jess during the campfire the night before, and Nate had acted happy for him—at least, he’d seemed to. He thought he’d seen an unsettling glimmer of jealousy in his best friend’s eye.

“I had to tend to a minor emergency after the hike. One of the older guys got a little too frisky scrambling over some rocks and sprained his ankle. I wrapped it up and put some ice on it,” he said, trying to sound as smooth and natural as possible. Luckily sprained ankles were a common occurrence at Getaway, where guests tended to be as enthusiastic as they were out of shape, so it was a believable story.

“Some of these guys still think they’re spring chickens when they’re pushing sixty,” Nate said, shaking his head.

Spencer was relieved when a pair of regulars at their table, Nancy and Bill, sat down and started to regale Nate about their successful afternoon of trout fishing. Nate was used to taking Spencer’s word at face value and he wasn’t one to ask too many questions, but it had been a close call all the same.

Jess showed up halfway through dinner, showered and changed, her beautiful face composed as if nothing had happened. It was pretty damn impressive to see her looking so unruffled, and it turned him on even more to think of the secret they shared. She sat down across the table a few seats away and almost instantly became engaged in conversation with Caroline, their do-it-all assistant at the guest ranch. The two were becoming fast friends.

He had to force himself to look away, picking up his water glass and taking a long chug. The way her face flushed in the candlelight reminded him of how she’d looked in the throes of passion, her legs quaking as he made love to her and brought her closer and closer to her ultimate pleasure. It had happened mere hours before, but already, he wanted to have her again. He was pretty sure Nate noticed his stare—it would be pretty hard not to. His gaze was glued to her like a fly in honey.

Their gaze met over the candles once. She paused in her conversation with Caroline and picked up her wineglass. That chance look seared him to the core. Her big dark eyes, the long, glossy hair falling over her pale skin, the look of desire mixed with a cool, steady resolve in her eyes. He just barely resisted the urge to stand up, walk around the table, and pull her up and into his arms right there. But Caroline said something to her, and she returned to her conversation, leaving him feeling hot and limp as a helium balloon on a blazing summer day.

I’ve got it bad, he thought. Worse than I can remember.

*

Dinner ended, and most of the guests headed off to the main lodge for a movie. Saturday was always Western night, Caroline told her, complete with popcorn, candy, and whiskey highballs to really get everyone in the spirit. “That sounds like every night of my life for the past six months, minus the whiskey,” Jess responded, explaining that she’d been obsessed with watching Westerns on TV lately. “I don’t think I need to now, though—I have the real thing!” She excused herself and went back to her cabin.

She was exhausted. As soon as she got back, she changed into a nightie, brushed her teeth and flopped down on her bed, letting the events of the day settle in on her. Her body was aching from the hike up Little Big Horn, which she had barely survived thanks to her none-too-impressive endurance. Underneath her throbbing muscles, she felt the residue of the deep satisfaction that Spencer had given her. She had to admit it—he had left her calm, content, and thoroughly satisfied.

His eyes had been hooked to her all through dinner. She’d tried her best not to meet them, because she knew that if she did, what had happened between them would be written all over her face. The way he’d looked at her—she’d never felt so truly and genuinely desired before. It had almost made it hard for her to eat. Almost.

But now what? Their lovemaking had seemed genuine and passionate, but was she just letting a bit of sex get to her head? What if he didn’t feel the same way? He told her that he wanted to get to know her and that he felt a pull towards her—but how could she know? It wasn’t like her to sleep with men she barely knew, and despite the draw she felt to Spencer, she was starting to doubt herself. Maybe hooking up with him had been a terrible mistake. Maybe he would hurt her just like the rest of them had.

To make matters more confusing, she had also noticed Nate looking at her all throughout dinner. At first she’d thought it was her imagination, but then it became clear—he had his eye on her. And she had found it harder and harder not to stare back.

She sighed. She was too tired to think clearly. As she drifted off to sleep, fragments of her afternoon with Spencer floated back to her, pricking her awake every time she thought the drowsiness would overtake her. His bare torso, rippling with muscles, as he splashed into the water . . . The thrill that passed through her when he pulled her towards him when she followed him in . . . The moment when he’d unhooked her bra and wrapped his lips around her swollen nipple . . . The glorious instant of penetration, his manhood stiff and throbbing, that made her desire sing in ecstasy . . .

She felt herself heat up and dampen down below. With no panties on, she felt how open and ready she was for—what?

Just then, there was a knock at the door. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it. Who could possibly be coming to see her at this hour? Actually, who could possibly be coming to see her at all? After a hesitation, she roused herself and padded to the door.

“Jess,” came a low voice from the other side. “It’s me.”

Her heart skipped a beat—or maybe three. It was as if he had heard her body’s call. She opened the door and her heart thrilled to see him standing there, her very own cowboy lover at her doorstep.

“Oh, Jess,” he sighed. “You look—” Without completing his thought, he stumbled into the doorway and took her in his arms. Their lips met, and within milliseconds their tongues were interwoven, his caressing hers and inflaming the desire that the mere thought of him had awoken.

He turned her around so she was facing the doorway and, closing the door gently, backed her up against it. Her breath caught in her throat and she moaned in both surprise and pleasure. He put one hand against the door to steady himself and ran the other down the swelling curves of her waist and hip. Without quite realizing what she was doing, she wrapped her leg around him, drawing him to her.

His hand traveled beneath the hem of her tiny negligee, caressing the smooth underside of her thigh. His breath hitched. “This little black nightie and nothing underneath,” he breathed. “Goddammit, Jess. How can I control myself?”

She felt his hand moving to the curve of her ass, kneading the full cheek.
Oh, please
, her desire begged.
Please, just move your hands a little more . . .
She was flooding with wetness, dying with need. “Don’t control yourself,” she choked out.

As soon as she got the words out, he pulled away. The rush of heat left her, like a blanket being pulled off her back in the dead of winter. She gasped.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. He pushed away a strand of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead. They were both panting, eyes locked, like two wolves circling each other, ready to pounce. “I told you I wanted to go slow, and I meant it. I feel a pull towards you that I keep trying to explain to myself, but the fact is, I just can’t. It’s something special, Jess. I want to explore that feeling, and you, and do it right.” His gaze was lit with inner intensity, his hands shaking. He tightened them into fists, then released them. “I can’t have you thinking that I’m just interested in you for your body.”

His words were equal parts pleasing and painful. Her heart melted at his expression of tenderness—but her desire was still big as the Wyoming sky. How could she make him understand that he could show her that he cared in that way, too?

“My body needs you,” she blurted out. His eyes grew even wider. “It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this,” she said. She could hardly believe she was speaking so honestly, voicing needs she hadn’t even admitted to herself. “Touched by someone who cares about me and who loves my body. I’ve spent so long trying to get over my ex by sheer willpower, by forcing myself to be alone, when what I really need is to feel the touch of someone who needs me just as bad.” She took a deep breath. She was practically begging him—but she didn’t care. “Will you touch me like that again?”

Wordlessly, Spencer approached her. He pinned her against the door as he had before, but this time with a slow, heart-stopping deliberateness. He hiked her leg up and wound it around him, kneading her thigh and ass with his warm, sure hand, so close to her bare sex that it was driving her crazy. She was sure she would melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Touch you like this?” he whispered into her ear, then began gently kissing her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes. Her whole being was flooded with joy from head to toe.

His lips found their way to her mouth, and he kissed her, at first gently. He caressed his lips with his tongue, then flicked it between them.
Damn, this man can kiss
, she thought dimly. Their tongues melded together effortlessly, making her feel weaker and weaker.

She was so wet that she hardly felt it when his fingers made their way from her inner thigh to her lower abdomen, then to her clit. She kissed him harder and began rocking against him. His fingers found her opening, slick and pulsating with want. She was surprised to realize that the moans she heard growing louder were her own—she had been so taken by the pleasure Spencer was giving her that she hadn’t even realized she’d been making a sound.

“Is this how you want me to touch you?” he whispered as he made tight circles with two fingers on her clit. “Is this what you want?”

“
Yes
,” she cried.

He slipped his fingers inside her passage, moving in and out of her smoothly. She leaned in to his touch, moaning as her pleasure mounted. He began to move his fingers faster, massaging her inner wall and giving her sensations she had never experienced before. She felt her climax coming like an avalanche. She screamed as it hit her, sending her convulsing from her core. She tipped her head back against the door.