Studs, page 13
“You know Justin?”
“Not really. I struck up a conversation with him earlier.”
“I think you should, Travis. Why not let her stay?”
Travis considered Jim’s input and, at last, nodded his agreement. “Okay, you can stay. But you’ll have to stay in the main house. I don’t want any of the hands getting a whiff of you.”
She patted him on his solid, muscular chest again. “How sweet. You’re worried for me.”
He placed his hand over hers as their eyes met. Holding her hand a second longer than was necessary, he took her hand and removed it from his chest. “No. I’m worried for the hired hands.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he started for his truck for the last time. “Hop in and we’ll give you a ride.”
Oh, Travis, honey. You’re going to give me a ride, all right. Just you wait. It’ll be a ride you won’t forget. Slipping her arm in Jim’s, she smiled her thanks to him and headed for the pickup.
****
The ride to Jim’s place was anything but pleasant. Charissa sat between Travis at the wheel and Jim on the other side. She and Jim exchanged small talk until Travis pulled up in front of Jim’s ranch style house. Jim hopped out, said his goodbyes, and strode to his front door.
“He’s a good friend to you.”
Travis had expected her to scoot away from him, but she remained close to his side. Trying to ignore the pull in his groin from the heat of her body next to his, he threw the pickup into gear again and gunned the gas pedal.
How the hell had he let him get talked into hiring her? Travis sneaked a peek out the corner of his eye and caught her looking at him. Shit. She unnerved him. In more than one way. Still, he’d given her the job at Jim’s encouragement—something he still didn’t understand—so he was honor-bound to keep his end of the deal. Even if it drove him crazy in every way a woman could drive a man crazy. The problem was…he didn’t need anything or anyone crazy in his life right now. Not after all the weird shit that had already happened.
“Are you going to talk to me?” She leaned forward so she could look him in the face.
Not if I can help it. But instead of saying so, he ignored her and kept his eyes diverted from her intense scrutiny. “What’s to talk about? You do the job I hired you to do and then I pay you. Simple.” Hopefully, she’d fix the problem with Adonis fast and get off his ranch. The attraction he felt for this woman was dangerous and he didn’t know how long he could keep from taking her in his arms and eating her alive.
“Okay. Got it.”
She didn’t seem offended by his harsh retort. Instead, she crossed her legs—long, sensual legs made to wrap a man between them—and stared into the night.
Good. Now maybe he could concentrate on his driving. Keeping his eyes glued to the road ahead, he prayed he could ignore all the turnoffs along the dark road that he knew led to secluded spots perfect for making out. As a teen he’d spent his fair share in those spots and knew anything could and did happen there. Just thinking about getting her alone was enough to pop sweat out along his brow.
“Are you okay? You seem nervous?”
Don’t look at her. Keep your eyes on the road. “I’m fine.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
“It’s a hot night.”
“Not that hot.”
Irritation at her, at himself had him barking his next words. “Would you keep quiet so I can drive? We’re almost at the ranch now.” He almost sighed when she fell silent and didn’t question him further.
Driving for the next five miles, his pulse slid back into a normal rate as he saw the gate for Tall Oaks ahead. Jumping out of the truck, he threw the gate open, dashed back to the truck to drive it through and then ran back to close the gate.
I’m running around like a pimply-faced teenager on his first date. Calm down. She’s just an employee. “Like hell she is.” Yet he managed to put on a bland face as he climbed back into the truck.
Fortunately for Travis, they rode the rest of the short drive down the gravel road that led to the house in silence. As he pulled in front of the white two-story traditional house that had been built years before Tall Oaks Stud Ranch had ever been conceived, Travis knew he’d made a grave mistake. Why in hell had he hired this woman? Did he really think she could “talk” to Adonis and get the horse to mount the mare? No, of course not. No sane rancher would. But he’d felt compelled to hire her. Refusing to do so hadn’t been an option. But why not?
He turned off the motor and caught a quick glance at the beautiful dark-haired woman sitting next him. She studied the farm house as if she’d never seen a home before, a slight smile forming at the sides of her lips.
“This is home.”
“I know.”
She knew? Travis saw her flinch as if she’d realized what she’d said.
“I mean, I assumed.” She folded her hands in her lap and brightened her smile.
Right. “Well, let’s get you settled.” Leaving the keys in the truck as he always did at the ranch, Travis opened the door and slid out. He took two steps toward the bed of the truck when the thought hit him. “Damn. I didn’t think about it before.” And why hadn’t he? What’s wrong with him tonight? “I guess we should’ve gone and picked up your things. Where’ve you’ve been staying?” Why hadn’t she suggested getting her belongings?
She slid gracefully to the ground on her side of the vehicle. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have them sent over tomorrow.”
He nodded as if her response made perfect sense to him—but it didn’t. He’d never heard of a woman stay anywhere overnight without having at least one bag with her. From his experience, more than one. And Charissa didn’t even have a purse with her. “But don’t you need the necessities like a nightgown or whatever it is you sleep in?”
She lifted a brow and deadpanned her expression. “I don’t need a nightgown. I sleep in the nude.”
The air around him evaporated as he sought to drag a breath into his lungs. Her simple declaration robbed him of any thought or action as the image of her naked and standing in his guest bedroom assaulted him. He could see her round, luscious breasts, the brown areoles like twin peaks challenging him to take them between his teeth. Her long, silky hair fell behind her as she stood, arms open and waiting for him.
“Travis?”
He lifted his eyes to her, breaking free of the daydream. “Yeah?”
She glanced toward the house and back again. “Do you think we could go inside now?”
Damn. Nothing better than looking like an idiot. Damn it, man. He started up the steps to the front door, making sure to keep his face and the hot rush he felt sweeping up his neck diverted away from her watchful gaze. “Sure. Sorry. I don’t know where my head was.”
He kept his head turned from her as he opened the door and strode into the foyer. In an instant, his mother’s voice droned her admonishment through his memory. Son, gentlemen open doors for ladies. But he’d be damned if he’d treat this particular woman like a lady. He’d hired her on as a hired hand and that’s how he’d treat her. For her sake as well as his.
She entered as though she owned the place. As though she was a queen from a far away land giving a poor peasant the honor of residing in his home. With her chin held high, she scanned the items in his small foyer and craned her head to see into the adjoining living room.
He struggled against it yet, try as he might, he had to admit—at least to himself—that he wanted her approval. He wanted her to like his home, enjoy the furnishings and appreciate his small, yet impressive collection of Remington art. Next to running the ranch, finding treasures of the great western artist was his pride and passion.
Passion? If ever a word fit a woman, passion fit Charissa. Travis wiped the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. Stop thinking about her in that way. Hang on. She won’t be here for long. He hoped. Yet the tiny stab of truth wouldn’t let him get away with the thought. Wrong. You hope she stays a long time. Might as well admit it. “Never.”
She pivoted with a ballerina’s grace to lift her eyebrows at him in question. “Never what?”
He hadn’t realized he’s spoken the word out loud. But at least that word wasn’t as dangerous as the others filling his mind. “Uh, never mind looking around tonight. The guest bedroom is up the stairs, fourth door down the hall.”
She looked up the grand staircase with its mahogany woodwork and nodded as her unreadable eyes bored into him. “And where is your room?”
“Why?” Why not? He groaned inwardly at his second, unspoken question. Remember. She’s an employee. Nothing more. But his heart wouldn’t let him lie to himself. You know she’s more. Much more. Or could be.
Her look intensified, burning the air around them with an unseen flame of womanly enticement. “I might need you.”
“Huh?”
“I might need you.” Her pink tongue flickered over her upper lip. “You know. In the middle of the night.”
The image of her tiptoeing naked into his bedroom flashed in his mind. But this time, she hopped into his bed, her hair spreading out over her breasts while her legs opened to sit on top of his ready shaft as she guided him into her wet crevice. If only I could let the dream happen. But doing so would cause too many conflicts with his work. He’d never mixed business with pleasure and he wasn’t about to start now. Not with so much on the line. “Uh, no. You won’t.”
She puffed up her already full, pouty lips, making him want to bite them and pull them into his kiss. “How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
“Then—”
He jumped in before she could say something to convince him otherwise, knowing it would be so easy for her to do so. “I know. You’ll be fine on your own.”
Passing by her with as much room between them as possible, he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. “The guest bath is right next to your bedroom. Towels, soap, shampoo, and everything else is in the cabinets.”
As he reached the landing, he turned to the right and kept going, leaving her behind him. Like the coward I am. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Miss…” He grabbed his bedroom’s doorknob and dared to turn to her. She’d remained at the landing, her expression masked. “I don’t know your last name. I’ll need to know for your paycheck.” As yet another realization hit him, he coughed, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “In fact, we’ll have to discuss your pay tomorrow, too.” Man, I must’ve lost it big time when I hired her. I didn’t ask her anything. Like her last name, her background, her experience, nothing.
She brushed her hair away from her shoulder and started unbuttoning the top of her blouse. His mouth went dry as he stared as she exposed more cleavage. “My full name is Charissa of the House—” She stopped, seeing his frown and began again. “My name is Charissa Blue and whatever you want to pay me is fine.”
She’d wanted to say something else. But he decided not to question her further. Not while she was unbuttoning her shirt. Instead, he turned, stepped into his bedroom, closed the door, and let the air rush out of him. “Shit. What is it about this woman that makes me act so stupid?” Whatever it was, he needed a shower. An ice cold shower.
****
Did he think hiding in his room would keep him safe from her? Charissa twirled in front of the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the guest bedroom and admired the way the silky nightgown clung to her curves. If he could think rationally around her, he might wonder where she’d gotten the provocative sleepwear, but she knew once he saw her all rational thought would get lost in the flood of lust.
All she had to do was to get him out of his room. Although she didn’t want to push Travis into the Love emotion with her, she had no qualms about using her ability to make him accessible to her. Once she was with him, her natural charm would do the job. No, she wanted him to love her the right way. The real way with no push involved.
Cracking the door open, she peeked down the hallway toward his room. Now, how to get him to come out of there? She supposed she could talk her way into his room and then they’d end up in bed, but she wanted to savor the anticipation of having sex with Travis. After all, a little teasing never hurt anyone.
Deciding on a course of action, she closed her eyes, pictured Travis in his room and nodded her head. She opened her eyes and waited for the Hunger push to take effect. She didn’t have long to wait as Travis creaked his door open and poked his head out. Jerking her head back, she held her breath as she closed her door and hoped he hadn’t seen her. She paused for a moment and then placed her ear against the door. A thrill of excitement had her clapping a hand over her mouth as she suppressed the cry of victory. She could hear his footsteps as he hurried along the hallway and down the stairs.
“One, two, three…” Charissa continued to count giving Travis time to reach the kitchen and get something to eat. Adding another fifty counts should give him enough time to get lulled into a false sense of safety. Not that he’d ever think of it that way. “Forty-nine, fifty.” Stifling a giggle, she opened her door and tiptoed out of the room. Ready or not, Travis, here I come!
Being as quiet as she could, she allowed the moonlight filtering into the living room to guide her way through the unfamiliar house. She slipped through another room filled with western artwork and several pieces of large furniture, all of which were so obviously his style.
Following a hunch, she sneaked through an adjoining room and nearly bumped into a long table with chairs lined up along its sides. Why didn’t Travis use this table for his late night meal? Frowning, she paused to consider her options. Should she go back? Should she do a mind search and see if she could locate him? She’d settled on a third option when her gaze fell on the light under the swinging door at the opposite side of the room.
Ah, ha! Found you. Grinning, she silently crossed to the door and eased it open a crack to see inside the room.
Travis sat at a small, round table with various food items spread out before him. As she watched, he upended a yellow bottle over a slice of bread. Within seconds, a drippy yellow substance flowed out of the bottle to land on the bread. When he’d gotten enough of the substance, he flipped the bottle right side up again. A slice of ham went on the bread next and he placed another slice of bread on top of his gastronomical creation.
Charissa smiled and entered the room, halting his first bite as his gaze stuck on her. He froze with the concoction a mere inch away from his mouth and gaped at her. “Hmm, looks yummy.” With a wicked glee smothered, she looked at his food and then, slowly, deliberately, fixed her eyes on his. Yes, Travis, I think you’re yummy, too. And I’m even yummier. Want to find out?
He dropped the sandwich to the plate below and sat up straighter in the chair, fighting to control the discomfort so easily read on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”
Oh, I need something all right. I need you between my legs. But she knew she couldn’t come on to him that hard. Instead, she slinked over to him, delighting in the way he watched her body move in the barely-there lingerie. Standing next to him, she slid her palm over his bare shoulder. Too bad he wore boxers to bed. She preferred her lovers to sleep in the buff. But she could change his sleeping preferences later. “I’m hungry, too.”
His features lit up as she moved her breasts closer to his face. “Oh. Sure. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
Oh, I will, Travis, I will. She bit her tongue to keep the words inside. For now. “Thanks.” Picking up the bottle he’d used, she ran her fingertip over the pointed tip to get some of the food—mustard, according to the label on the side—on her finger. As his eyes stayed glued to her, she held up her finger, pausing just a moment for the added benefit of seeing him gulp, and then stuck her finger in her mouth. She twisted her finger around in her mouth, enjoying how he followed her every move. “Yes. This is very good.”
She leaned forward, knowing she exposed more of her breasts and picked up a slice of bread. He swallowed again and kept his attention on her. With another squeeze of the bottle, she poured mustard on the bread—and elsewhere. “Oops.” A trail of the yellow goop slid down into the cleft of her cleavage.
Travis kept on staring, but didn’t make a move.
The man has too much control. Time to break his resolve. Slipping the spaghetti straps off her shoulders, she let the flimsy material drop to the floor. For a moment, they stared at each other as she waited for him to react.
“Oh, shit.” A groan echoed deep within him as he clasped his hands on her thong-clad bottom and pulled her to him. Mustard smeared across his face as he buried himself between her breasts. The sensual sound of a pleasured moan rumbled against her chest.
Charissa looked down at him, satisfied with his response. “Now that’s a good sandwich.”
His warm chuckle drifted up to her and she gasped as his tongue licked the mustard from her. “No. This is a great sandwich.”
She leaned back a little to rock her hips forward, teasing him to move from her chest to her mons. But he didn’t obey her. Instead, he stood, taking her mouth with his, his teeth scraping against her lips. He feathered kisses along her jaw, down her neck and onto her shoulder in a wild ride of desire. His hands let go of her butt to race up her back, over her breasts where they lingered for a moment to rub his thumbs over her nipples and then coursed a hot trail down to her buttocks to grab them even tighter than before. She moaned her approval as he tore her thong from her.
Charissa embraced his hot lust with one of her own as she cried out and clung to him. His mouth took hers again, plunging his tongue inside her, giving her a taste of him. She felt the heat of his erection forcing its way through the thin material of his silken boxers and she rubbed herself against him in a primeval message of consent. Moaning, he lifted her hard against him and turned her, placing her back on the table.
The cold of the tabletop against her skin emphasized the heat between their bodies. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she thrust her pussy against him, clutching his hair to keep his mouth on hers. The fire burned hot and wild inside her.
