Cowboys & Angels (Sons of Chance #13)(18)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

His quick glance told her he realized they might be veering into difficult territory. “You’re right. This is not the time or the place.” His smile returned. “Or the outfit. A guy would have to be pretty dumb to talk about serious things when a woman is wearing shoes like yours.”

She let out her breath in relief. “You like these shoes, huh?”

“Love ’em.”

“Good. And look at that. Here’s the service elevator.”

“So it is. We’re making progress.” He stepped forward and pushed the button.

A current of excitement ran through her body, setting off little tremors of anticipation. He had no idea, poor man, but she was about to blow his mind. The doors rumbled open to reveal a spacious, utilitarian interior. Bright lights illuminated bare walls and no handrails. It was a stark cube, and all the more exotic to her because of that.

Trey gestured her forward. “After you.”

She’d thought about her presentation ever since the idea had come to her. Sashaying into the elevator, she dropped her duffel to the floor and turned around to face him. As he stepped in and the doors began to close behind him, she untied her robe. Opening the lapels, she flashed him.

His gasp echoed off the walls. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hit the stop button, cowboy. Then unzip and come on over here. I have something for you.”

He whirled and smacked the stop button, but then he slowly turned back to her. “Are you serious?”

“Would I kid about something like this?” She cupped her br**sts and fondled her n**ples. That moment when he’d stared at her in the room had made her bolder. “See what a little champagne can do to my inhibitions?”

His set his guitar case down. “And I thought all we’d get was an elevator ride.” He sounded short of breath.

“I have a different ride in mind.” She slid one hand between her legs. “Care to mount up?”

Unfastening his belt and unzipping his jeans, he came toward her. “I’m going to find out what brand of champagne that was and order a case of it.”

She licked her lips. “I did enjoy the bubbly.”

“And now I’m going to enjoy you.” Pulling a condom out of his pocket, he handed it to her. “Since this is your party, I’ll let you do the honors.”

“Be glad to.” She ripped open the foil.

He planted one hand on either side of her head, caging her in as he leaned forward. “Put it on tight. This could get wild.” Then he began playing with her mouth as he told her in great detail what he was about to do to her. After sucking on her lower lip, he used several four-letter words to paint a picture of his intentions. He ran his tongue over the bow of her upper lip and continued the litany of earthy predictions. He nibbled and promised. He lapped and suggested.

By the time she’d rolled the condom on, she was frantic to have him. Her br**sts quivered with each breath. “You’re ready.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m so ready.” He hooked his arm under the back of her knee. Leaving one hand braced against the wall beside her head, he raised her leg, probed her slick heat and pushed inside, groaning with satisfaction.

She was pinned to the elevator wall by his cock, and she loved it. He felt so damned good there—right there. “What was it you said you were going to do to me?”

“Lady, I’m doing it.” He drew back and thrust forward again with firm deliberation. His hot gaze bored into her. “And I intend to keep doing it until you beg for mercy.” He shoved in tighter, pushing her back against the wall. “I feel as if I could climb right inside you.”

Her heart beat wildly. “Go ahead.”

“Believe I will.” He began to move, and each stroke drove deep, touching her core, ratcheting up the tension.

She gasped with pleasure.

“Like that?” His eyes sparked fire.

She stared right back at him, unflinching. “Yes. Bring it on.”

His breath caught. “Oh, Elle.” With a noise that was nearly a growl, he surged forward, pounding into her without pause. The liquid sound of his c*ck driving into her created an echo that made the tiny cubicle resonate with passion.

Delirious with the untamed force of his body entering hers over and over, Elle surrendered to her orgasm with panting cries of delight. He kept going, and she came again, breathless with wonder.

“Now,” he muttered. “Now.” And he shoved her back against the wall one more time. As his c*ck pulsed within her, he lowered his head, and his gasps were punctuated with several colorful swear words.

Long seconds later, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You continue to surprise the hell out of me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“That was outstanding.”

“I thought so. That’s the first time you swore while you were coming.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Guess I did. I was out of my mind.” He glanced around at the elevator. “I think it was partly the acoustics.”

“The acoustics?”

“Yeah. The way the sounds bounced around in here seemed to amplify the sensation, sort of like a sex rock concert.”

“Oh, my God.” She started to laugh. “So this is what it’s like to have sex with a musician. They’re into how it sounds.”

“Of course.” He looked surprised that she hadn’t figured that out. “I love the sound of sex. There’s the moaning, the fast breathing, the lapping, the sucking, the incredibly erotic noise of my c*ck slipping in and out of your—”

“I get it.” And her body wanted it again. The stirrings were unmistakable. “But we need to untangle ourselves. I’m losing feeling in my leg.”

“Can’t have that.”

Putting everything to rights again took some doing, but they eventually managed. Fortunately, Trey was the kind of old-fashioned guy who carried a handkerchief in his back pocket. He said usually he carried a bandanna. The handkerchief was for special occasions like weddings.

“And hav**g s*x in service elevators?” Elle winked at him.

“Apparently so. I’ll add it to my list of must-haves whenever I’m with you. Gotta make sure I have at least one condom and a handkerchief. Then we can do it anywhere.”

“What a concept.”

He gazed at her. “I know. Now I’m wondering what other places have interesting acoustics.”

“So we’re back to the acoustics?”

“Well, yeah.” He pushed the button and the elevator started back down. “Creaky beds are good. I’d love to find a set of those old-fashioned springs. A creaky old bed with metal springs, inside a small room with tile floors and no curtains, would give you a sexual symphony. I’d love to try that.”

“Sounds loud.”

“It would be loud, and wild. Then add in your voice saying naughty words in that husky way you have, and your moans, and little cries…” He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “I hope you’re not sleepy yet.”

“Please don’t say we’re going out in search of a tiled room with a squeaky bed.”

“Not tonight. But even a cushy king-size mattress is capable of very nice sounds when two people are making love on it.”

She realized that he’d switched the terminology from hav**g s*x to making love. Judging from the warm light in his brown eyes, he’d done it on purpose. They’d had plenty of wild sex. She suspected the next round would be about something else entirely. She might not be ready for that.

Chapter 15

CREATIVE SEXUAL EXPERIENCES were all well and good, Trey thought as he opened the door to his room and ushered Elle inside. But tenderness was important, too, and they hadn’t shared enough of that. He wasn’t complaining. He’d remember that elevator ride for the rest of his life.

Time to dial back the frenzy, though, and show her a different kind of loving—his favorite kind. She walked in on those crazy shoes, and he decided those would be the first to go. He was responsible for her keeping them on, because he’d relished the fantasy of a woman wearing do-me shoes and nothing else.

He didn’t need that anymore. They’d had that brand of fantasy sex in the elevator. He closed and locked the door before turning back to her. “You can take off your shoes if you want to.”

Her blue eyes flashed with a hint of an emotion he couldn’t identify. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. In fact, sit on the bed and let me take them off for you.”

She chuckled as she perched on the edge of the mattress. “Oh, I know where this is going.”

“Do you?” He didn’t think so. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her and took one foot into his lap. “These must be wickedly uncomfortable.” He unbuckled the narrow strap.

“Not for the first couple of hours.”

He winced. She’d been wearing them since before two this afternoon. No wonder she’d wanted to sit and drink champagne with Mary Lou. He took off the other shoe, and she sighed with relief.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to keep them on.” He took one of her feet in his hands again and began a slow massage.

“Yes, you should. That’s the main reason this kind of shoe exists—to create a sexual fantasy for men. Women often wear them for that exclusive purpose.” She moaned softly. “That’s nice, Trey.”

“I owe it to you.” He deepened the massage.

“Hey, I’m the one who chose to wear them. You didn’t force me to put them on today.” She sighed again. “You’re good at this. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Why?” He moved to her other foot.

“Because I already know you have talented hands. You can make that guitar sing. You can make me sing.”

“Nice to know.” Although that affected him, he wasn’t going to indulge the demands of his c*ck right now. He continued to work on her feet. “Did you bring lotion?”

“There’s some in my duffel bag.”

Her bag was conveniently on the floor only a couple of feet away. Pulling it over, he handed it up to her. “Would you get it out for me?”

“I know what you’re up to, Trey.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She handed him a tube of lotion. “You’re making love to my feet, and then you’ll work your way up my legs, and so on.”

“So you think massaging your feet is a means to an end?” He squeezed out some sweet-smelling lotion and smoothed it over the arch of her foot.

She shivered. “I do.”

“Well, you’re right, it is.” But he wasn’t doing it to prepare her for his future satisfaction. He was doing it because she needed this more than she needed an orgasm. “Just lie back and enjoy it.”

“Okay, I will.” She settled backward on the bed.

“I like your gold toenail polish.”

“The spa here does a nice job.” She moaned again. “You could work there. You know your way around a foot massage, cowboy.”

“You inspire me.” He worked the lotion between her toes. Then he moved to her other foot and gave it the same treatment. He took his time, and the room grew very quiet. Too quiet.

Slowly releasing her foot, he rose to his knees and peered at her. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady. She was asleep.

He chose to be complimented rather than insulted. He’d relaxed her with his foot massage, and she’d felt comfortable enough to drift off. She might be asleep, but they could still share a bed. That would be nice, too. They might not use the condoms he’d left in the nightstand drawer, but he’d be right there beside her all night.

Although he undressed as quietly as he could, he probably didn’t need to worry about waking her up. She slept on. But she couldn’t stay like that with her legs hanging off the bed.

Surveying the situation, he mapped out a strategy. He drew back the covers on the far side of the bed. When he leaned over and scooped her up in his arms, she mumbled something and cuddled closer. It sounded like she said, “Has Santa been here?”

He might have misunderstood, but he decided to give her an answer anyway. “Not yet,” he murmured as he carried her to the other side of the bed and laid her on the sheet.

Her bathrobe tie had loosened during the transport, and he didn’t think she’d want to sleep in that bulky thing, anyway. Working carefully, he slipped each arm out of the sleeves. Getting the thick robe out from under her was a trick, but he finally succeeded.

Grabbing one stolen moment, he gazed at her. She was so much more than a beautiful woman. She had fire and intelligence to spare. If she’d only let him into her life, she’d be so easy to love.

She rolled to her side to face the wall, and he pulled the covers up over her bare shoulder. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said softly.

“I want skis.” The words were distinct this time, even though her eyes remained closed.

He didn’t have to think very hard to figure it out. She’d been surrounded by Christmas decorations for days. Then he’d picked her up like a sleeping child and tucked her into bed. In her dream state, she’d asked Santa for a pair of skis. That memory had to have come from somewhere.

Yet she’d told him before that Christmas wasn’t particularly important to her. It had been once, though. He’d lay money on it. But now she’d rejected everything that was even slightly sentimental, including Christmas.

Or maybe not. He had a sudden inspiration. If he could get her to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the ranch, he might revive her love of the holiday. He couldn’t help thinking that once she surrendered to the joy of the season, she’d be open to loving him.