Mocha Latte (Silk Stocking Inn #3) Page 6

  “I need to take Riley and the carriage back.” He kissed me again. “If you need anything, or if the creaks and noises in this old house make you uneasy, I’ll be right there across the hallway in my big, comfortable bed. Where there’s plenty of space for a sleep buddy.”

  His boots clacked the wood floor as he walked back down the hallway and stairs. I could still hear them in the entryway as he walked out the front door. I smiled to myself. A girl sure could get used to the sound of boot heels in the house.

  The wine, the late hour, the abundance of fresh air and the incredible sex had pushed me easily into a deep sleep where visions of a certain hot cowboy danced in my head. But a harsh sound, a noise that mimicked sharp nails on glass, woke me from my dreams.

  I sat up, reeling for a moment, trying to remember exactly where I was. As the darkness turned to the silhouettes of Coco’s antique furniture, my mind cleared enough to remind me that I was at the Silk Stocking Inn. The unsettling sound startled me again. It was followed by a ghostly howl that seemed to circle the entire house.

  I put my feet on the cold floor and plodded over to the window. With some trepidation, I pushed back the heavy drapes. Trees were curled over as if invisible strings had been tied to their tips and were being pulled at the same time. Another rushing sound followed that pushed against the house, making it groan loudly in protest.

  Long, thin fingers clawed at my window, and I stumbled back with a gasp. The howling sound quieted and the clawing fingers morphed into the branches of the tree growing outside the window. It was a wind storm.

  I headed back to the bed, my heart still racing from the earlier scare. It was strange how quickly the wind had kicked up. Just hours earlier, Jackson and I had been rolling through a completely quiet, calm landscape that had been disrupted only by the occasional breeze. But now gusts of wind that could upturn trees, if given the opportunity, blew in gale force around the inn.

  I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was four in the morning. Late by even the most ardent bar-hopper’s standards. There was no doubt my neighbor across the hall was fast asleep in his big bed. I leaned back against the pillows, pulled the quilt up tight beneath my chin and tried to imagine how breathtaking Jackson must look sleeping. Naked, most likely.

  I took a deep, calming breath. My head grew heavy with sleep again. Another gust of wind and the horrid scratching at the window snapped me back to fully awake.

  This time it was not just a burst of wind but a long, stretched-out onslaught of violent air. The windows rattled. I could almost hear the roof shingles being peeled away from the top of the century old house.

  I held tightly to the blanket, bracing for whatever might come next. A loud, crashing sound outside was followed by something hard hitting the house.

  I hopped back out of bed and ran into the hallway. I smacked right into a hard, naked chest. In fact, the entire man was naked, and a welcome sight, in the middle of my frenzy.

  “Thought I heard the patter of your little feet.” Jackson reached up and tucked the hair that had fallen across my face behind my ear. “It’s just wind.”

  “No. Wind pushes the trees around a little, dislodges some leaves from their branches. Whatever’s going on out there—it’s picking up large objects and throwing them at the house.”

  “I did hear something smack the far wall.” He grinned appreciatively at the nightie again as if he hadn’t already seen it. “It seems that once again I’ve happened upon my distraught heroine. Only this time she’s fleeing dangerous weather instead of a rotten husband.” He took hold of my hand. “There’s only one thing to do.”

  I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat. “What’s that?” I squeaked.

  “I need to take you into my bedroom and comfort you the best way I know how.”

  “Comfort me?”

  “Well, comfort might be the wrong word.” He leaned down, and as he kissed me, another violent wind whipped around the house. “But I guarantee it will take your mind off that wind.”

  Without waiting for a response, he led me into his room. The room on the opposite side had less floral prints and an altogether more masculine interior, right up to the massive four post bed standing in the center of the room.

  Something about seeing the sheets and blankets in a disarray, knowing that Jackson’s naked body had just, moments before, been lying in the center of it all, sent a stream of heat through me. My pussy, still tender from the tryst in the carriage, throbbed with an urge to be the center of attention again.

  The shadows of the room came alive when Jackson walked over and turned the nightstand lamp on one notch. It cast the perfect amount of glow over the room, a yellow stream of light that made the whole room look as if it was on the movie set of some nineteenth century romance.

  The only thing that didn’t look as if it belonged in a past century was the completely heartbreaking man standing in front of the antique bed. His lean, well-muscled body looked positively incredible in the dimly lit room. As my eyes dropped, I took in, for the first time, the true length and size of his erection. It had seemed nearly impossible when he’d made love to me in the carriage, filling me to capacity in a way I’d never experienced before. But seeing it now, assured me it had not been my imagination. Jackson was head to toe magnificent, and best of all, he was every bit man and every bit cowboy. I hadn’t realized how much I’d hankered for a perfectly hot cowboy until now.

  Apparently, Jackson noticed me ogling him. He grinned and held out his arms. “See anything that interests ya’?” He looked pointedly down at his rock solid cock. “I guess my interest is more than obvious.”

  “You are a picture, that’s for damn sure. Although—” I sashayed over to his dresser. The storm outside no longer concerned me. I felt safe, secure and once again flirty with Jackson. I picked up his hat and carried it over to him. “I think this will just add the cherry on top.”

  He lifted the black hat and pushed it down low over his head. I’d teased him about it once, but his brilliant white smile really did remind me of a Hollywood caliber smile. I could easily imagine him on the set of some edgy western with badass men on cool horses chasing after money, bad guys and fast women. And if that made me a fast woman, then so be it.

  “See, now that I’m wearing my hat, my confidence level has just shot up ten points. And I aim to do as I please.”

  “Since confidence was never an issue with you—”

  “We’re done talking, Spunky. Night’s nearly over, and I want to finish it with you in my arms . . . preferably naked.” He took hold of the ends of my nightgown. With one fluid move, he had it up and off my head. He pushed the thong down next.

  Before I could feel self-conscious enough to bring my hands up and across my breasts, he swept me up into his arms.

  His hat stayed low, shading his green eyes as he carried me to the bed. He plopped me down on the mattress and flicked his hat off before climbing in next to me. I stretched back on the pillows.

  He rolled toward me with a gleam in his eyes. “What’s that phrase?” He took hold of my waist and swung me over to straddle him. “Think it’s Cowgirl Up.”

  I pressed my hands against his chest. “Think that pertains to climbing up on a horse.”

  He reached up to caress my breasts. “I can give you a much better ride than any ole’ horse.”

  “Yeah? Let’s see.” I leaned down to kiss him and scooted my body back so that his cock pressed urgently against my pussy.

  Jackson’s hands reached down and took a firm hold of my ass. “Slide that pussy down over me, baby,” he growled against my mouth. “I want to feel it swallow me, hold me, milk me.”

  I lifted my face and tilted a grin at him. “A girl could really get used to that cowboy style dirty talk.”

  “Then, come on, baby, and put me out of my misery. I
want you so bad, I’m ready to come just looking at you.”

  He held my ass firmly in his hands, spreading me wide as I maneuvered my body against his erection. Slowly, I eased down over him, closing my eyes to revel in every glorious, slick inch of him as he filled my pussy. I rested back for a moment to feel the entire length of him inside me, pushing my hands against his chest to brace myself, even as his hands tugged at my ass.

  I leaned forward and reached up above his head, hanging my breasts over his face as I grabbed hold of the mahogany headboard.

  “I fucking love your nipples, baby.” He lifted his head temporarily to attend to each nipple with a tease of his tongue.

  I slid my body over him, my pussy gloving his cock again and again. His fingers pressed deeper against the crack of my ass, penetrating my anus as I pushed against the pressure of his hands. He held me tightly, stretching my pussy back so my clit could rub firmly against the base of his cock.

  I shut my eyes and curled my fingers against him like fists, concentrating solely on the intimate connection between us. He impaled my ass with his finger as I stroked his cock with my pussy. My thighs squeezed tightly against his hips, holding him as if I’d never let him go. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  I moved my hips. His hands worked with me, to keep me solid over him. Our bodies moved in perfect rhythm as he lifted his hips to meet me every time I ground down over him.

  “Oh, Jackson, my head is spinning,” I sighed.

  He held me firmly over him, and I pushed down hard as his cock pushed deep. My body trembled and my pussy tightened around him, clinging to him to feel every sensation as I climaxed.

  I had a hard time keeping my arms steady as I braced against him. He moved faster and harder. His hands took hold of my waist, and he lifted me off of him. “Baby, I want to take you on your hands and knees. Please.”

  I rose up on my hands and knees. The entire mattress shifted with his weight as he circled behind me. I had no time to catch my breath or gain composure before he took firm hold of my hips and thrust his cock inside of me, the new angle letting him reach new, deep pockets of pleasure.

  He moved with a fury that made the bed creak and the headboard beat a rhythm against the wall. I worried what Coco might be thinking but then she was the one to leave me the extremely sexy lingerie. I had a wild thought that she had set this all up.

  I gripped the sheets as a sweet ache, that delectable pain that came from a lot of sex, filled my body.

  “Damn, baby, you are fucking beautiful on your hands and knees.” Jackson’s deep voice rolled over my bare back and sent a shiver of delight through me.

  His hands tightened and he pushed in hard, grunting in ecstasy as his body stiffened and he came. He stayed there for a moment and leaned down to kiss the hollow between my shoulder blades. “I mean it, Rebecca, fucking beautiful.”

  Hearing him say my real name sent another frisson of pleasure through me. The way he said it made me feel important, as if I mattered to him.

  I closed my eyes and pushed the notion from my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to get attached to Jackson. He’d be gone with the end of the weekend. A man like him wouldn’t have any interest past the fun we were having.

  We collapsed down onto the mattress in the spoon position. Jackson wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his warm body. The lamp still glowed, but the heavy draw of sleep lowered my lids and blocked the light. In the security of Jackson’s strong arms, I fell asleep.

  Chapter 14

  Not wanting to expose the morning version of myself, particularly after a long night of wine and activity, to my new hunky friend, I climbed out of his bed at the crack of dawn. It had been one of the hardest things I’d done in a long time, leaving the warmth and protection of his body to traipse across a dark hallway and fall into a bed where the sheets were cold from being empty.

  I would have slept well into the morning, but a knock on my door woke me. I quickly fussed with my hair, as if raking my fingers through my pillow-mussed mop could make any significant improvement.

  Fortunately, Coco’s soft voice followed the knock. I relaxed and pulled the quilt to cover up the sexy nightie that she had left for me.

  “Come in.”

  Coco entered with a breakfast tray. Her shoulders seemed to straighten more as she stepped farther into the room and the spring in her step became . . . well, springier. Her age was so hard to gauge, I’d stopped trying to guess it. My mouth watered at the fragrance streaming in with the tray.

  “Would you like some French toast with maple whipped cream and berries?” she asked as she carried the tray toward the bed.

  “I doubt there is any person on this planet who would say no to that question.”

  She chuckled as she lowered the tray over my lap.

  A mound of caramel colored whipped cream had begun its slow melting descent over a stack of thick golden pieces of French toast. Blue and red berries swam happily in the creamy concoction. I breathed in deeply as the steamy scent of maple swirled around the plate. “This would explain why my last dream involved me standing in a forest of maple trees with a fork.”

  “People have told me that they dream about my food,” she quipped. “I figured you’d be hungry after the long night.”

  My eyes popped open wide as a warm blush crept up my cheeks.

  “I mean with that noisy wind and all,” she added hastily, but I was still sure there was more behind her comment than the inclement weather. “Jackson told me you two were taking a trail ride today.” She stood and smiled proudly down at her luscious breakfast food. “Isn’t it wonderful when things work out just the way you planned.”

  Again, I stared up at her with wide eyes.

  “The breakfast, of course. Everything turned out just as I planned. Enjoy.” With that, she winked and left the room.

  Coco popped her head back in just as I took the first magical bite. “Jackson told me that you should walk down to the barn as soon as you’re ready.” She shut the door.

  I spent the next twenty minutes losing myself in the bliss of Coco’s French toast.

  Chapter 15

  Coco, the world’s greatest innkeeper, provided me with a fresh shirt and a straw cowboy hat for the trail ride. The shirt, which was actually a sleeveless blouse made of blue seersucker wasn’t something I would have picked for myself and yet, it looked great. Or at least that was what the bedroom mirror had told me. It had been the first time since Nate had broken off with me that I hadn’t stared into a mirror trying to decide what I needed to improve upon. I’d come up with a long list of things, but today, as I stared back at the reflection with cheeks pink from a night with Jackson, I decided all of me was just fine.

  I was feeling sufficiently nervous to see the man I’d just spent an extremely sensual night with as I trekked the path to the barn. I’d spent the morning reminding myself that this was just for a weekend and not to expect any more than that. Jackson had made it clear that he wanted me, all of me, this weekend. His mention of the time limit had not passed by me. It was man code for—after that we go our separate ways.

  That thought saddened me some. We seemed to go together well . . . in every aspect. But the last thing I needed was to have my heart stomped on again, and something told me it would hurt even worse if it were Jackson’s cowboy boots doing the stomping.

  Archie, my mount from the night before, was standing outside of the barn, saddled and ready. Jackson walked out with his horse, a gray dapple gelding who looked full of spirit this morning.

  I used the horse as a way to avoid any awkward first moments. I shoved my hands in my back pockets, making sure to present my breasts nicely in the seersucker blouse, as I walked toward him.

  “You never told me your horse’s name,” I called.

  “It’s Rebel. He came with the
name, but it fits.”

  Jackson stopped and shifted his black hat back to get a better view of me. I added a little extra sway to my hips. Once again, I easily fell into flirt mode with Jackson. There was just something about him. Could have been the green eyes, or the Hollywood smile, or the great shoulders . . . My mental catalogue was too long to list.

  “So, Spunky, you ready for a real ride?”

  I stopped and patted Archie’s neck. “My thighs might be a little shaky after last night’s ride.” I tamped down a wicked smile. “Or rides, to be more exact. But I think I’m up to it.”

  He walked up in front of me and tapped the brim of my hat. “Looks just right on you. But there’s one big problem with cowboy hats.”

  I peered up at him from beneath the shade of the brim. “Can’t get in a proper good morning kiss?”

  “Exactly.”

  I swept off my hat, and he plucked his up with one hand. His other hand curled around the back of my head as he leaned forward to kiss me. The moment his mouth pressed against mine, my mind splintered in all kinds of directions, none of them wholesome.

  He pressed his hat back on his head. “Guess we should head out before it gets too hot.”

  We climbed up onto the saddles and led the horses toward the same trail he’d driven the carriage along. A brilliant blue sky stretched on endlessly in front of us and the lush surrounding landscape twittered with the occasional breeze or wild creature. Archie’s slow, lazy walk made us fall behind quickly. I pressed my calves against his sides, but he seemed immune to my cues.

  Jackson slowed Rebel down to fall back with us. “You never did say how you ended up on a ranch in your teens. Did your dad have a midlife urge to raise cattle?”

  I stared out at the scenery. Even after so many years, it was still painfully hard to talk about my parents. My throat did its usual tightening, and I blinked away the burning in my eyes.