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Chapter Five

Jace blessed the cold air as it washed over his body. But he cursed the fact that Sam was with him. Because she was negating the effect that the frigid surroundings otherwise would have had on him.

He’d been harder than hell and bound up in one big knot since last night.

He’d almost done it. He’d almost leaned in and kissed her sassy pink lips. And damned if he wouldn’t have regretted it. He regretted not doing it. And that was dumb as rocks.

But she’d gotten to talking about his testosterone. And then the pancake incident. The pancake incident that he should be irritated about. The pancake incident that made his blood run a little hotter and his pulse pound at an accelerated rate.

Because now, when he pictured the scene, batter all over his bare chest, he invited her to lick it off. A fair trade since she’d caused the incident. And then, when the altered memory went there, his chest wasn’t the only thing she licked .

And that was just sick. Who had those thoughts about their best friend? He felt like a complete bastard having fantasies about her lips on him, but dammit, he had them. Lots of them. Explicit, erotic fantasies.

He redirected his thoughts quickly—a necessity because his jeans were starting to get tight—and turned to face Samantha and her big black shadow.

“So,” she said. “What are we doing today?”

“We,” he said, “are going to move the cattle from one pasture to another. We have to keep the rotation going, especially through the winter so they have plenty of grass to eat.”

“We’re going to herd your cattle? That’s freaking awesome.

” Her pale cheeks and nose were already stained cherry-red, her hair frizzing around her head thanks to the moisture in the air.

She had on a berry-colored hat and gloves, which should have clashed with her coloring but somehow didn’t.

She was so vibrant against the background of white snow and silver sky.

The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And it wasn’t just his groin that tightened. It wasn’t just his stomach that felt strange. It was his heart.

Well, damn. That was inconvenient. Feeling these inappropriate Sam feeling were bad enough when they were below the waist. Bringing his heart into the equation made it all worse.

“Yep,” he said, his throat suddenly tightening up too. Oh good, his whole body was staging a rebellion.

“Get along, little doggy!” she said to Poppy, weaving back and forth in the snow, making uneven footprints. Poppy pranced behind her, lifting her feet higher, clearly excited by Samantha’s exuberance.

And he couldn’t blame her. Samantha had that way about her. She was infectious. She’d always made him smile, even when there’d been nothing in his life to smile about.

She still did that to him. She did everything to him.

Dammit .

“Calm down, cowgirl,” he said. “We’ve got to saddle up some horses.”

Five hours later, Samantha was muddy and exhausted, and so was Poppy. And Jace still wasn’t done working.

“We’re going to head back to the house,” she said.

“Right. I’ll be behind you in a bit.”

She nodded and strolled from the barn back to the two-story home. She’d spent the whole day in the cold with Jace and his hired hands. And they’d eaten cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Her butt hurt too, from riding the horse for so long. And she was pretty sure she would be walking funny in the morning. She didn’t ride very often, and she’d never shadowed Jace on the ranch before.

It was incredible. To see what his hard work had earned him. To see how hard he worked every day. And it made him even sexier. To see him get dirty. Sweaty. To see him like she never normally saw him.

He really wasn’t joking. He didn’t mind getting dirty; he just cleaned up after.

He was like a walking fantasy. Tough and masculine, yet deeply involved with soap.

It wasn’t fair.

She let out a breath and opened the door to the house, cringing when Poppy bounded in and left several paw prints in the entryway.

“No,” she whined, grabbing Poppy’s collar. “Hang on.” She marched the dog into the laundry room and got a towel to clean her paws. “You need a bath,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Samantha wiped up the floor on her way back by the entry door, then marched Poppy up the stairs and into the guest bathroom, right next to the room she’d claimed as her own for the duration of her stay.

“Okay, chica, let’s get this mud off you.”

A half an hour later, she had a clean and mostly dry dog snoozing at the foot of her bed. And she had a bathtub with a dirt ring to contend with.

She grabbed the flexible shower head and started to spray along the edge of the tub until most of the ring was gone. Now there was just a bit of black hair sticking to everything. That was always the problem with bathing Poppy. The water drew out enough hair to build a whole new dog.

She hummed as she sprayed the tub, jumping when she heard Jace’s voice.

“Did you bathe your dog in the house?”

She flipped the switch on the shower head and stopped the flow, diverting the water to the tub. “What? Yes. Did you want me to leave her muddy?”

“I bathed her in the stable yesterday. I didn’t bathe her inside.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Jace. Unclench,” she said, a rush of anger washing over her. Anger directed at him for being such an ass about the house. And for being so sexy. And so off-limits. And anger at herself for wanting him when she knew it was impossible.

She was suddenly very angry about all the things and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it from leaking out.

“It smells like wet dog in here.”

“Does it? It’s about to smell like wet cowboy.” She flipped the switch on the sprayer again and aimed it at his chest, making a nice little damp spot right in the same place she’d smacked him with batter the other day, then turned the water off again.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

“Believe it. I’ll do it again too.”

“Sam...”

She sprayed him again.

“Samantha.”

Again, and she could have sworn he smiled as he crossed the bathroom, reaching out toward her watery weapon even though he was trying to give her his very best angry eyebrows.

“No!” she shrieked, spraying him the whole time he was advancing on her.

He grabbed her arm and spun her so that she was locked against his chest, facing away from him.

And then she was unceremoniously disarmed, held captive against his wet chest, the sprayer against her breasts.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“You did.”

“But I’m mean. And you’re usually not.”

“Nah, baby,” he said, his voice low, resonating in his chest, vibrating against her back and sending a million little sparks through her body, “I’m a mean son of a bitch. And don’t you forget it.”

“You are not.” She wiggled, her butt coming into contact with what was either a hard belt buckle or.

..or...oh my. She wiggled some more, not so much to get free as to identify just what all was hard back there.

Because no matter how much she shouldn’t want him to be hard against her ass, she kind of wanted him to be hard.

He flipped the diverter on the sprayer and a shot of cold water hit her between her breasts. “Dammit!”

“I told you.”

“But I didn’t believe you!”

“You pushed me.”

“Yeah, well, you could use a little push, Jace,” she said, pushing her butt against him again. “Lord knows you don’t get challenged enough.”

“You don’t think?” he asked, his hold tightening on her, bringing him harder up against her ass and no, that was not a belt buckle.

“No,” she said, her throat tight.

Good. Lord. Jace was hard for her. And what was she supposed to do now?

Ride him like you’re not saddle sore!

Her inner hedonist was quick with an answer, while that ever more cautious part of herself whispered “doom” on a low hum in the background.

He lifted his hand, his thumb and forefinger bracketing her jaw, and he turned her head gently, so she could meet his eyes. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

All she could do was want. She’d wanted him before, but not this badly and not when he was standing so close.

It was a recipe for disaster. Or tasty physical cake...

No. Disaster.

But he was looking at her, and his fingers were rough against her skin.

Masculine. It had been a long time since a man had touched her.

It had been... never since it had excited her so much.

His jaw looked...scratchy. A full day’s growth on his skin, dark and.

..and rough...and masculine. She’d thought all those adjectives already. But it’s because they were so true.

He pulled her closer, one arm still partly around her front and holding the sprayer, his cock getting harder at her back.

She couldn’t help it. She moved against him. Not an accidental wiggle. A full-on, intentional arch against him. Oh. Yes.

And then her lips parted, her eyes dropping to his.

Kiss me. Please kiss me.

And her silent prayer went answered.

Because then, suddenly, and finally , Jace was kissing her. His lips were firm, purposeful, expert. And he smelled like him. He smelled like home. Spices, familiar and exciting at the same time. Like leather and sweat. Like Jace.

She couldn’t get close enough to him.

She turned fully in his arms and he dropped the shower head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her hard against his body.

“Yes,” she whispered, parting her lips for him.

His tongue slid against hers, the friction sending her to the edge, the pleasure radiating deep inside of her.

She ached. Everywhere. Her breasts, the apex of her thighs.

If he actually touched her anywhere she might explode.

Right now, his hands were on her lower back and he was just kissing her lips, but she felt like she was on the verge of an orgasm.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, sifting her fingers through his hair, kissing him back. Hard.

He growled and backed her up against the wall. She arched against him, trying to fit that tempting ridge of his arousal just where she needed it. She was a little too short to manage it .

She gave up for the moment and put her hands on his chest, skimming them over his body. He was as hard as she’d always imagined, his muscles clearly defined, even with the wet T-shirt fabric stretched over his skin.

Oh no, the fabric wouldn’t do.

She ran her fingers down to the hem of his shirt and pushed them underneath, coming into contact with his skin. Lightning zipped from her fingertips through the rest of her body. He was so hot. And she was so hot for him.

There was no time to think or measure what response her actions might get. Measure what kind of consequences they might have.

And then her shirt was gone, so fast she hadn’t realized he’d made a move for it. He lowered his head and kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth scraping the delicate skin there.

The water was still running into the bathtub, hot now, steam filling up the small room. Or maybe that was just them producing the steam. It was entirely possible.

She was mindless, but she knew it was Jace. It was the fact that it was Jace that made it so hot. That made it so perfect.

He pressed a kiss to the rounded curved of her breast, traced the edge of her bra with the tip of his tongue. She whimpered, holding his head to her. So good. So incredibly good.

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She pushed it down her shoulders. He pulled her up against him and claimed her mouth again, his chest hair rough against her nipples. She arched her back, increasing the friction, deepening their kiss.

He swept her up into his arms and stepped into the bathtub in his jeans and bare feet, her with her jeans still on, then set her down in the water, never breaking their kiss as he settled between her thighs.

He kept kissing her, and she moved against him, using the seam of her jeans and his erection to chase the release that was close. So close. So very, very close.

Jace kissed her neck again. She gripped his belt loops, urging him to move against her harder, faster. She locked her legs over his, the wet denim heavy and scratchy on her skin. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but this. But the way Jace made her feel.

He put his hand underneath, on her lower back, pushing her up more tightly against him, increasing his movements. Harder. Faster. Yes. Yes .

He bent his head and ran the flat of his tongue over her nipple, then sucked her deep into his mouth. Her orgasm rushed over her. She held on to his shoulders, a hoarse cry escaping her lips, as her mind went blank and she surrendered herself. Utterly, completely.

Jace bucked against her, once, twice, then buried his face in her neck, his body stiffening as he found his own release.