Chapter 5
JW STOOD IN FRONT of the microwave, tapping his fingers against the counter, as if that would make the food heat up any faster.
Not only was he starving, but he wanted to climb back in bed with the sexy red-headed raven. He’d had great sex before. Mind-blowing even. But what had just happened, and the way they watched each other in the window was something out his realm of understanding. There were no words to describe how he’d felt in the moment or how it would forever be the best he’d ever had.
And he selfishly wanted more.
Before the timer dinged, he pulled the loaded sausages out and tossed them on a couple of plates, setting them on a tray next to a couple of beers and headed toward the bedroom. Kitty…Kitty…fuck, he hadn’t a clue what her last name was. What a God damned moron he turned out to be. He could hear his grandmother cussing him out from beyond.
He pushed opened the door using his ass and smiled. Kitty had put on his green button-down shirt. She’d pulled her wavy hair to the side, twisting it in one hand, holding her phone in the other.
“I’ll check in with you in the morning, Dad, I promise.” She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed. “Love you too, Dad.”
“You called your father?”
She crinkled her nose. “I moved home after my divorce and just didn’t want them to worry about me staying over.”
“That’s nice, but a little presumptuous that I’d invite you to spend the night when I don’t even know your last name.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I was kidding on the presumptuous part; I’d be disappointed if you didn’t spend the night.” He set the tray of food on the bed in front of her, twisting off the cap of both beers before handing her one.
“It’s not that.” She took the beer, taking a healthy swig. “I can’t believe I never told you my last name.”
He climbed on the bed, trying not to rustle it too much. “So, Kitty. What is your full name?” He took one of the sausages, heaving half of it in his mouth, leaning over the plate as the onions and peppers slipped out of the bun.
She handed him a napkin. “Cat Renee O’Doole.”
“Nice Irish name,” he mused, reaching out and tucking some of her hair behind her shoulder.
“I’m about as Irish as they come, ‘tis I am.”
He laughed at the perfectly played accent. “So, tell me. What are you studying?”
“Education. Specifically, early childhood development.” Her skinny fingers plucked out a yellow pepper, popping it into her mouth.
He had half a mind to suck that vegetable right out.
“What does that mean exactly?” He fluffed the pillows, leaning back. His hand tangled in her red locks.
“I want to be an elementary school teacher.” She took a lady-like bite of her food, pushing herself against the pillows, stretching out her legs, the tray of food and beer between them.
“If you don’t mind me getting personal—”
She held up two fingers. “You just gave me two orgasms and you think I mind personal?”
God, she was going to be the death of him. “Point taken.” He swallowed, taking a small sip of courage. “You’re what, twenty-seven?”
She nodded.
“Why haven’t you finished your degree?” It wasn’t any of his business. After in two weeks, he’d get on a plane and head back to Idaho, only taking with him a memory…
Of the best he’d ever had.
“I didn’t go to college after high school and while my ex hated the idea of me working, he put up with me going to college, part time.”
“Put up? He’s an asshole.”
“He is that, but this had more to do with some manly misguided ego.”
“I’ll repeat what I said the other day. You should have taken his money.”
“I’m doing fine without it. I’m hoping to be done with my undergrad by next summer if everything goes as planned.”
His heart skipped a beat. He’d been born dirt poor and understood having to settle. He’d been one of the lucky ones that not only had he had a lucrative career as a bull rider and cowboy, but his mentor had taken him in, given him a job, and now that ranch belonged to JW, and it more than supported him and his siblings. Now if he could just get his riding school off the ground, he’d be happy. “You’re a good woman, Kitty O’Toole. But I’m damn glad you’re going after your dreams now.”
“I’m still young, so I really don’t feel like I’m all that behind.” She dropped her half-eaten food on the plate, wiping her hands with a napkin, then tilted her head. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty-five on my next birthday.”
“When is that?” she asked.
“New Year’s Eve.”
“And now it’s my turn to get personal.”
“Yeah, because I only had one orgasm. We might have to do something about that.” The comfort level he shared with Kitty he’d never had with Bella. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been this relaxed in the presence of a woman. Not that he didn’t have a fair amount of confidence, but women always made him twitch, even the one he’d loved.
“I might be able to take care of that if you tell me what you do for a living.”
“That’s actually a loaded question.” He took the tray and set it on the floor next to the bed and sipped his beer. It was nice not to have someone know who he was. Not that he was a well-known celebrity, but in his circle, he was about as famous as they came. “Currently, I’m a ranch owner and trying to get a bull-riding school off the ground, but I also hold a world record regarding my time on the backside of a bull.”
“A bull, as in a real live thing with horns?”
He nodded, letting out a sight laugh. Kitty had a way of making him feel like he was just some normal guy. Not the man who’d spent months in the spotlight trying to prove his innocence, and even when he had, still got treated as though he’d beat a woman.
Something he’d never do.
Hell, he’d only been in one bar fight and that was only because some guy grabbed some woman by the ass when she’d specifically asked him not to.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know much about the sport, but I imagine it’s quite dangerous.”
He took her hand, placing it palm down on his side. “I’ve broke just about every rib I have. I’ve dislocated both shoulders. More than once. I’ve torn my ACL and have had three concussions.”
“Please tell me your bull-riding days are over.”
“Mostly. I still compete in some shows and exhibitions.”
She set her longneck on the nightstand and turned. “Now I’m going to be real nosey, but is bull-riding how you made your money? Or were you born into it?”
“Why do I get the feeling that rich people, because of your ex, offend you?”
“Offend isn’t the right word, and I’m sorry if I’m prying. You owe me nothing, so no biggie if you don’t answer.”
“I don’t mind talking about it.” He laced his fingers between hers, staring at how they fit together like his favorite leather driving gloves. “My parents and grandparents were ranch hands on the ranch I own now. I was born a ranch hand and poor, but the old man that used to own it, took a shine to me the second he saw my first bull-ride when I was six. He offered my family residence on the ranch, and we took it.”
“Six years old?” Her eyes grew wide with shock and concern.
He smiled, kissing the back of her hand. “Both my parents were bull-riders, but they never made it to the level of success I had, and I owe that to my mentor, Chuck Holland. He taught me everything I know. I broke my first world record when I was sixteen.”
“That’s amazing. Your parents must be so proud.”
“I’m sure they would have been. They died in a train crash when I was fifteen.”
She gasped, covering her mouth. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“It was difficult to lose them so young, but my grandparents and Chuck made sure my siblings and I were well taken care of.”
“Is your grandfather still alive?” She nibbled on her fingernail, her cool, blue eyes glimmering concern and kindness.
“He died a few months before my grandmother.”
“And Chuck Holland?” she asked.
He should have clammed up considering she seemed to be taking his entire past to heart. Last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad.
At least she didn’t pity him.
“He died three years ago. Having no family of his own, he left me and my siblings the ranch.”
She palmed his cheek. Her skin softer than a bear skin rug. “You’ve suffered a lot of losses.”
He nodded. “I wish I could bring them all back, but I’m grateful for the time I had with them.”
She twisted her body, straddling him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her gaze pierced through his soul, taking his breath away. “You’re a special man,” she whispered right before her rosy lips brushed over his. Then like a feather floating in the air, she dabbled his chest with sweet kisses.
“Nothing special about me.” He gathered her hair, gently pushing it to the side.
Her eyelids fluttered as her tongue made a trail down the center of his stomach making his muscles tense and twitch. He sucked in a breath when her deft fingers unhooked his pants, rolling them over his hips and down his legs.
He hissed when her tongue darted out of her mouth, flicking over the tip, a slight smile forming on her lips.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
“Name’s Kitty,” she said, stroking him in a slow, circular motion, staring at him with those killer ice-blue eyes.
“You’re driving me mad, Kitty.”
“That’s the point.” With her gaze locked on his, she took him into her hot mouth. Her lips glided over him like hot steam coating a mirror. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she devoured him, making his pulse skyrocket.
His chest rose up and down with each labored breath. Curling his toes, he forced himself to remain still. She was as soft as a silk robe and as hot as the summer sun.
He reached toward the nightstand, fumbling for a condom. “Come here.” He tugged her hair, her fingers replacing her mouth.
Shoving her on her back, spreading her legs, he smiled at her perfectly pink womanhood with just a trickle of hair curling above her tight nub. Her nipples poked against the fabric of his shirt. Her smile sent him right over the edge.
He drove himself inside her with one long, hard thrust.
“Jesus,” she muttered, arching her back, welcoming him inside.
“Name’s JW.”
She reached up, clasping her hands behind his neck, shoving her tongue deep in his mouth, grinding her hips.
Losing all control, he slammed himself into her, moving the bed with every plunge. He swallowed all her moans, sucking on her luscious, quivering lips, praying her body would shudder long before his did.
He ripped open her shirt, popping off at least two buttons, twisting her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, desperate for her gratification. She indulged him with a decadence of soft groans that grew louder with every stroke until she cried out his name, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.
She trembled as his climax spilled out, sending one throbbing shockwave after the other across his muscles. His chest surged forward, lungs burning, unable to catch his breath.
He eased his weight onto his elbows. For the next five minutes they rocked gently against one another, kissing each other tenderly until she completely relaxed under him, letting out a long sigh.
“I have a craving for chocolate cake,” she whispered.
“I’ll call room service.”
“Now I’ve died and gone to heaven.”