Page 15 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Fourteen

The Ranch

Forty minutes later, the birthing was finished. The foal was nursing while his mother recuperated.

I was covered in gunk and so was Declan. Both of us were elated and a bit slaphappy.

“It never gets old,” I said with a satisfied grin. “Especially when everything goes according to plan.”

“Mirabelle is a champion,” Declan said as I helped him clean up.

“I earned a shower—and a drink,” I said as I looked at my clothes. “But I’m also starving.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fifteen-year-old bourbon I haven’t opened yet,” he said. “And I make a mean quesadilla. You can shower while I make food.”

“Oh, that’s not a good idea?—”

“You want to wake up the entire household tromping in at two in the morning? I’ve got a shower and spare clothes.”

My stomach rumbled.

“Let’s go,” I said with a smile.

We checked on Mirabelle and the foal one more time and then left the barn.

Declan’s porch was devoid of light, and I nearly tripped up the stairs. He reached his hand out and caught me before I fell.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

His grip was firm, but then suddenly it was gone and I wished it wasn’t.

Declan opened the front door and flipped on the porch light. We took off our boots and left them on the mat outside and then we headed into the small guest cabin.

“Sorry it’s cold in here,” he said, immediately going to the thermostat. “I keep it at sixty-four. I run hot.”

I rubbed my hands together and wisely kept my thoughts to myself, remembering all too well the warmth of his skin.

“Let me get you a towel and some clean clothes to change into.”

“Thanks,” I said. I stood by while he gathered what I needed and set them in the microscopic bathroom.

“Save some hot water for me, yeah?” he asked with a wink.

“Will do,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn pink.

I closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. As it steamed, I quickly shucked my clothes and scooted them into the corner with my toes.

My hair was tied back, and I kept it out of the water. I washed quickly, using Declan’s sandalwood-scented soap. I didn’t linger—my stomach continued to rumble in demand.

I shut off the water and quickly wrapped myself in a faded, soft towel and then I pulled on the clothes Declan gave me. It was reminiscent of the first night we’d met.

I gathered up my soiled clothes and wondered what I was going to do with them when I stepped out of the bathroom. The scent of butter and cheese hit my nose, and I began to salivate.

“Do you have a plastic bag or something I can put these in?” I asked Declan.

“Yeah, under the sink.” He stood at the stove and flipped a quesadilla.

I grabbed a grocery bag and stuffed my clothes into it and then set it down by the front door. “That smells incredible.”

“Sit,” he commanded.

I perched on the couch. He turned off the burner and slid the quesadilla onto a plate. After grabbing a fork, knife and a napkin, he brought the food to me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Sure thing. Let me get the bourbon.”

He went back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle on top of the fridge. He cracked it open and poured a splash into two glasses.

“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

I took a sip of the bourbon and nodded. “Yep, that’s incredible.”

“Aged in charred American oak barrels and finished another year in a former sherry barrel,” he said. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

Warmth at his words—and the bourbon—poured through me.

“You good if I shower real fast?”

I nodded.

“You need any hot sauce or salsa to go with that quesadilla?”

I shook my head.

“Okay then.” He took another sip of his drink, left the glass on the coffee table, and then went to shower.

By the time he returned to the living room, the quesadilla was gone and I was nursing my drink.

Declan took the spot at the other end of the couch and picked up his bourbon. His dark hair was wet and even though he’d put on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, he’d left his feet bare.

“You really do run hot,” I blurted out, pointing to his toes.

He wiggled them. “Yep. I do.”

I shuddered. “My hands are always cold. So are my feet. I sleep in socks even in summer.”

“That would drive me crazy,” he said. “You know what I love?”

“What?”

“When it’s winter and the wood stove is lit, and I’m under a heavy blanket, but there’s still a slight chill to the air.”

I closed my eyes. “Yeah. Nothing like falling asleep next to the fire.”

I opened my eyes and stared at him. He leaned over and unscrewed the bourbon and picked it up. Declan gestured to my glass. I held it out to him, and he topped it off.

Despite my full belly, my head was already starting to buzz. My skin was humming, warmth spreading through me.

“What’s your favorite thing about New York?” he asked after he topped off his drink.

“My sister and my friends.”

“You miss them?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

He took a hefty swallow. “Have you talked to your ex since the split?”

All the warmth I’d been feeling suddenly disappeared. Bitterness coated my tongue. “No. I haven’t talked to him. Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I thought he would’ve come to his senses and begged you to take him back by now.”

“That’ll never happen.”

“What? Him begging you to take him back, or you going back to him?”

“Both,” I replied.

We fell silent, but I could tell he wasn’t done prying.

“Ask,” I said gruffly.

“Ask what?”

“Ask whatever’s on your mind. Because something clearly is.”

“It’s not so much a question as it is an observation.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“You just don’t seem all that bothered by it,” he said. “The ending of your engagement, I mean.”

“Not bothered?” I repeated. “How do you figure?”

“I don’t know. I guess you just seem so . . . put together. Not losing your shit at all.”

“And I should be losing my shit?” I asked in wry amusement.

“Aren’t you mad?” he blurted out. “Don’t you want to yell and throw things?”

“And that would prove what, exactly? That I’m feeling my breakup on a deeper level?” I tossed back the rest of my drink, trying to wash away the bitterness.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Are you?”

“Hell yeah, I’m angry.” My eyes narrowed and heat filled my cheeks. “But I’m not angry at Gianni. I’m angry at myself.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I was stupid to believe him,” I said. “I was stupid to believe he loved me. I was stupid to believe that love conquered all. I was stupid to believe we had anything lasting. I was stupid to think I’d found a love like my parents.”

I hastily shot up from my seat and stared down at Declan, who didn’t appear at all put out by my sudden bout of emotion.

“I was stupid to even dream of a life with him. It was right there in front of me the whole time,” I went on as I began to pace.

“He always had some excuse about not being able to come home for a visit with me. And when I threw out the suggestion of a small wedding here, he balked. Our relationship was always about him and about how I could contort myself into his life and his family. It’s no wonder it ended. ”

“What was the final straw?” he asked quietly. “What made you finally walk away?”

“I didn’t walk away. He did. My self-esteem is in the toilet.”

“It shouldn’t be,” he said. “Fuck him.”

I smiled slightly. “Yeah. If only I could convince myself not to feel bad. But it’s raw, you know? Someone rejects you and then you start to wonder if you’re . . .”

“If you’re what?”

“Desirable.” I sighed. “Ignore me. It’s the bourbon. It’s loosened my tongue.”

“Good. No use in being emotionally constipated.”

His words made me laugh. And then he laughed. The warmth that was missing bloomed between us again.

Declan’s gaze suddenly softened as he looked at me. “You really think you’re not desirable?”

I shrugged.

“You are desirable.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“You are desirable,” he said again, slowly this time. His gaze raked over me from head to toe. “It’s been damn near impossible to keep my hands to myself around you, Hadley.”

Tingles erupted all over my skin.

And the way he was looking at me made me feel as though he’d slowly stripped me out of all my clothes and was memorizing how I looked naked.

Maybe it was the bourbon. Maybe it was my deflated ego that needed stroking.

Or maybe it was that I’d been denying what had been brewing between us since the first night we’d met.

Instead of replying to him I set my glass down onto the coffee table and then I did something completely out of character.

I scooted across the couch and then straddled his lap.

His blue eyes burned bright as his hands came up to cradle my hips.

Banked desire roared to life. Flames of need rushed through my blood, sweeping away all resistance.

I suddenly needed to know how he felt inside me.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmured, my fingers sinking into the hair at the base of his neck.

“I don’t care,” Declan said as his strong, warm hand slid underneath my T-shirt.

“My whole life I’ve always done the right thing . . . tonight I’d like to try something else and see how it feels.”

Declan grinned. “You’ll like being bad.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll make sure you like it.”

Declan’s words were a promise, and I shivered in anticipation.

His hand continued to glide up my back lightly, without urgency. I scooted even closer and then slowly eased down to press against him.

We were hindered by our clothing, but I felt his erection at my cleft.

Declan’s other hand cradled the back of my head, and he urged my mouth toward his.

“You want me.”

It wasn’t a question.

I licked my lips and nodded.

“I need to hear you say it,” he said, his voice raspy and deep. “I need to know you want me as much as I want you.”

I placed my hand on his chest. The powerful beat of his heart pulsed beneath my fingertips, and I itched to feel his warm skin against mine.

“Yes, Declan. I want you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

His lips covered mine. Warm, insistent, passionate.

I opened my mouth in invitation. His tongue thrust between my lips to duel with mine. I rubbed against him, rocking my hips, instinctively needing more from him.

His breath smelled of bourbon and mint, and I savored the taste of him.

“Off,” he grunted, tugging on my shirt.

I lifted my arms, and he slid the T-shirt up over my head and tossed it aside.

“Fuck me,” he whispered in reverence as his hands reached up to cradle my breasts.

He held the weight of them in his palms and then his thumbs slid across my nipples. Declan bent his head and took one of them into his warm, welcoming mouth.

I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure as he released my nipple from his lips.

“You like that.”

I didn’t reply, I just pushed my breast back into his mouth.

He nipped and tugged, sending a shot of desire straight to my core. With his fingers, he twirled my other nipple. A blush of a fever spread through me.

I wanted more. I needed more.

My nipple popped from his mouth again and he leaned back, gazing at me with languid eyes.

“My turn,” I whispered, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt.

He lifted up and away from the couch, grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled it off. He tossed it where he’d tossed mine.

“It’s just as beautiful as I remember,” I said as my hand grazed down his pectoral, across the tattoo.

“My muscular chest?”

I smiled at his sass. “That too. But I meant the tattoo.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said gruffly. “So you were looking at me the night we met?”

“Kind of hard not to,” I admitted. I wiggled on his lap, causing him to groan. I pressed my lips to his sternum and then peppered my way across toward his nipple.

“I couldn’t stop staring at you either.” His fingers sank into my hair and his breath caught when my teeth gently bit his nipple.

“No more talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

My fingers glided up his chest that was covered in dark hair. I giggled.

Declan’s eyes flipped open. “Are you laughing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you laughing at me while I’m half naked?”

“Maybe.”

“Woman, you want to talk about an ego killer?”

I buried my face into the side of his neck and started to laugh again. “I’m sorry, I just—you’ve got a pelt.”

He wrapped his arms around me. “A pelt?”

I placed my hand on his chest and all but ran my fingers through his chest hair. “A pelt.”

“A pelt,” he repeated, turning his head and grazing his lips across my ear, causing me to shiver.

He held onto me as he stood and then he walked us toward the bedroom. Declan didn’t turn on the light, but there was enough illumination from the living room that I was able to see the curves of his shoulders and his tapered waist.

Declan gently lay me in the middle of the bed.

“I like it,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Your pelt.”

He wheezed out a laugh. “Woman, how am I supposed to make love to you if you’re making me laugh?”

“I don’t know,” I said wickedly. “Guess you’d better get creative.”

“Guess I’d better,” he agreed as he reached for my sweats.

I lifted up my hips and let him drag them off me so that I was splayed out naked.

Without a word, he bent his head toward the apex of my thighs. “Fuck.”

Anxiety rippled through me. “What?” I asked, trying to clamp my legs shut.

He placed his large hands on my inner thighs to keep me open. “You smell incredible.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I can smell your arousal and it’s fucking diabolical. I can’t wait to taste you.”

His gaze was trained on me for a moment and then he bent his head and gave me a slow, long lick. Declan was gentle, taking his time to savor me, to react to what I liked.

He listened when I gasped. He touched me where I needed. He paid attention to every nuance of my body—my body that had no choice but to follow the path of pleasure Declan laid out for me.

“Declan,” I moaned.

“I know, baby.”

He slid his hands beneath my ass and urged me to rest my legs on his shoulders. My back bowed off the bed when he gently sucked me into his mouth.

I was wet and writhing, trembling with need but Declan didn’t stop. He spurred me on, forcing me to give in to the pleasure waiting for me.

The tingles started at the top of my scalp and shot down my spine, spreading out through my core and then I was erupting around his tongue. Convulsing with my release, crying out my joy.

It wasn’t until I was gently floating back into my body that I realized my legs were still up on Declan’s shoulders and my thighs were squeezing his ears.

I slid them off his shoulders and stared at him. His mouth glistened with my release and with a swipe of his tongue across his lips, my desire flamed to life again.

“I want you inside me,” I whispered.

He stilled. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

I swallowed. “You don’t have to worry about a condom. I—I can’t get pregnant.”

His jaw clenched. “You sure?”

I nodded.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded.

I reached for him.