The Heart Won't Lie Read online

  “That’s nice to hear, but let’s get back to the part where Jack predicted your riding would improve after having sex with me. When did he say that?”

  “Ah, I see what the problem is. You think he said that yesterday and that’s why he wanted us to get together.”

  “Well, isn’t it?”

  “No. Okay, maybe a little bit, but that was an afterthought, I’m sure. He didn’t make that remark about sex helping horsemanship until this morning, after he figured out we’d had a fun time last night.”

  “I’m not sure I believe it helps all that much. He might be trying to justify this arrangement.”

  “Oh, it helps. You know how we just instinctively move in rhythm with each other during sex?”

  “Yeah.” And talking about it was getting her hot. She didn’t think that was possible after all they’d done tonight, but she couldn’t deny the tension coiling within her.

  “I had to let my body feel the rhythm of the horse and go with it. I was thinking about you, and how great we felt together, and suddenly I was sitting a trot without bouncing.”

  “Huh. That’s cool.” Keri sighed and nestled closer to his warmth. “Okay, I feel better now.”

  “Actually, you feel outstanding.” He stroked her breast. “Silky soft. I love touching you.”

  “FYI, touching me is producing certain results. I’m not saying we should do anything about it, but—”

  “But we could.” He nudged her with his growing erection. “Incredibly enough.”

  “I know.” She pressed against him, reveling in her power to arouse him again. “I hope we don’t kill each other with too much sex.”

  “If we do, I’ll die a happy man.” He slid his hand between her thighs. “Mmm. I think you’re ready for another round.”

  “Told you.” She started to turn toward him.

  “Stay there. Stay right...there.” And he withdrew his hand.

  She missed his caress, but she was eager to find out exactly what he had in mind. Cool air wafted over her as he moved away.

  Foil crinkled, latex snapped and he was back. “I want to try it like this, on our sides.” He grasped her hips, angled his body and eased into her from behind. “I couldn’t do this, except you are so...wet.” He moved slowly until he was deep inside. His breathing came faster, now. “How’s that?”

  “Different.” She hadn’t thought she was a fan of this position, but now that he was there, filling her, she thought she might like it, after all. And he seemed to love it.

  He cradled her breast, as before, but now they were intimately connected as he lightly pinched her nipple. His fingers began a rhythmic kneading motion as he began to move within her. He was slow at first, almost careful.

  But then he stroked faster, and the world shifted. Having sex like this was a step away from civilization and a step toward primitive lust. She felt it, and judging from the energy he put into each thrust, he felt it, too.

  From this angle, her passage was narrower, which meant she felt the slide of his penis more intensely. Surely he did, too, which would explain his ragged breathing and his eagerness to pound into her over and over. She trembled on the edge of a climax that drew nearer each time he drove forward. Then he released his hold on her hip to reach around and slip his finger into her cleft. He pressed down, and she came in a rush amid wild cries of completion.

  He kept his hand there, steadying her as he plunged into her with abandon until he shuddered against her, moaning softly, holding her tight to receive all that he had to give. Their breathing slowed, and they lay still, coupled together in an ancient posture.

  She’d never before felt taken, but she felt it now. She and Michael were knocking down the barriers between them one by one. With each barrier that fell, they became more vulnerable to being hurt when they eventually had to part.

  And they would part. His life was in New York, in the heart of the publishing world, while hers, once she handled some details in Baltimore, would be in Jackson Hole. If she had any sense, she’d pull back. She’d protect herself and protect him, too, from risking too much.

  But being with Michael was so good. And he’d said that she was helping him become a better cowboy. That was all the rationalization she needed for indulging in sexual pleasure the likes of which she’d never known.

  * * *

  LATER, MICHAEL LAY on his back beside Keri. They held hands but they didn’t speak, almost as if they both needed time to process what was going on. He couldn’t be certain of her state of mind, but his was certainly on tilt.

  He’d never experienced intimacy like this. The reason was obvious. He’d known this might happen before they’d begun the affair. He’d finally gotten naked with a woman emotionally as well as physically. Until now, no lover had truly known him, known the wildness deep in his soul. He wasn’t sure if it was Keri or the ranch, or maybe the combination of the two that brought it out.

  Because of that, he wasn’t sure he could trust his feelings for her. He thought they might have a future, but what if the dynamic changed once they were both living back east? Would he be the same uninhibited person if they met up in New York? Would she?

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.” Considering the direction of his thoughts, questions made his heart thump a little faster. He wondered if she had some of the same thoughts.

  “Why don’t the characters in your books ever have oral sex?”

  He laughed. Of all the burning questions he imagined she might have, that wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t even sure how to answer.

  But she was obviously interested in this topic because she layered on another question. “Didn’t the people back in the Old West do that stuff?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought, but I’ll bet they did. Couples have been enjoying oral sex throughout history, so the Old West wouldn’t have been that different.”

  “How about sex with the woman astride?”

  This was the strangest conversation. “I’m sure they did that, too. Ladies of the night were popular back in those days, and the more innovative ones probably made the most money.”

  “But nice girls stuck with the missionary position, I suppose.”

  He rolled to his side and gazed at her. “I don’t know that, either. People are endlessly inventive in the bedroom. Who knows what they did when the candles were snuffed?”

  She turned to face him and her green eyes sparkled. “Do you suppose their men took them from behind once in a while?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. For one thing, if a woman’s pregnant, especially if she’s pretty far along, I’ve heard that’s the most comfortable way to have sex.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. It would be. And just because a woman has a big belly doesn’t mean she doesn’t want an orgasm now and then. Or that he doesn’t want to enjoy the pleasures of his lovely wife.”

  He was transfixed by the image of making love to her when she was pregnant with his child. How dumb was that? Their relationship might not survive past this week, let alone blossom into a permanent commitment that resulted in her being pregnant with his kid.

  Even so, the image of taking her to bed when she was in that special condition wouldn’t leave him. He felt a tenderness that had absolutely no basis in fact. For one thing, she might not even want children, let alone children who carried his genetic code.

  Finally he asked the obvious question. “Why are you so interested in the sex lives of people in the nineteenth century?”

  “Because I read your books.”

  “I know you do.” That’s what had landed them in this briar patch, or more accurately, in this bed of roses. He now owed a huge, impossible-to-calculate debt to his publisher for causing him to meet Keri. Fortunately his publishing house would never know
the role it played, so he wouldn’t have to make any kind of grand gesture.

  “I’m only one reader, and I know you must have thousands.”

  “I do, now. I didn’t in the beginning, but business is picking up.”

  She smiled. “It should. You’re a terrific writer.”

  “Thanks.” He was a little embarrassed to be having this discussion while he was naked with a woman he’d recently... Oh, yes, he certainly had. And he’d loved every single thrust into her warm body, every taste of her juices on his tongue, every whimper she’d uttered when he’d touched her in those secret, fragrant places. He’d loved the way her pupils dilated when she was ready to come. He loved the way she arched into his caress, and how she quivered when he—

  “I wish you’d put more hot sex in your books,” she said.

  He blinked, disoriented. “What?”

  “You have a really sexy style—strong, masculine, commanding. I wanted to see that masterful behavior in the bedroom. I wanted the scenes to crackle, with the cowboy hero taking charge and stripping her naked, or maybe the heroine pushing him back on that coverlet and straddling him. I wanted you to make me squirm in my bed while I was reading those pages, but...you pulled your punches.”

  He stared at her. “The stories aren’t about sex.”

  “Everything’s about sex.”

  He started to contradict her, but then he realized she was right. Sampson and Delilah. Anthony and Cleopatra. Napoleon and Josephine. From the famous lovers of the past to current scandals in the headlines, sex changed lives and altered the course of history.

  “I wondered if maybe Jim Ford wasn’t very creative in bed,” she continued, “so those scenes would necessarily be boring. But you’re not boring in bed, Michael.”

  “That’s something, at least.” He faced another decision—whether to make excuses or tell her the truth. He opted for the truth. “I didn’t know if I could write good sex scenes, so I skimmed over them.”

  She held his gaze. “You can write good sex scenes. I know that you can after spending two glorious nights in your bed. You only have to give yourself permission to let that side of you come out in the writing. And after all, it’s only Jim Ford doing it. Nobody knows Jim Ford, really.”

  “You do.”

  “And I’ll never tell.”

  He wasn’t worried in the least that she would tell. No, the real worry was whether or not he was capable of writing a sex scene that conveyed the intensity he’d experienced with her. If he failed, he’d know it from her expression.

  He’d suffered through bad reviews before, but always once removed, something he saw in print or online. Because he didn’t interact much with readers for fear they’d discover his identity, he’d seldom had someone criticize him to his face.

  Not that Keri would attack. She would be kind, regardless of whether she liked what he’d written. But if he hadn’t met her expectations, he’d know it. That could be rough.

  Still, she’d issued a challenge no writer worth his salt could ignore. They talked a little more about the subject, but he didn’t agree or disagree that he should beef up those scenes. Privately, he knew he was going to give it a shot and then decide if he’d show her what he’d done.

  He waited until she finally drifted off to sleep. Then he slipped out of bed and pulled his laptop from its case. If he planned to do this thing, he’d best do it now, when his nostrils were filled with the scent of her and his body throbbed with remembered pleasure. Lying naked in his bed, she’d provide all the inspiration any man should need. God help him, he wanted to please her in this, too.

  12

  KERI WOKE TO the peppy phone melody she used as an alarm. It didn’t take her long to remember where she was. Michael’s big body spooned hers, and his arm was tucked around her waist. When she tried to reach her phone the weight of his arm held her back.

  She tried to ease away, in case he was still sleeping. He pulled her close. Obviously not sleeping. “Let me go, Michael.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t.” She rubbed her fanny against his hard penis. “But we don’t have time for that.”

  “Sure we do. You proved that you can get dressed in twenty minutes.” His hand moved down her belly headed for an obvious destination.

  Laughing, she grabbed his hand and stopped its downward movement. “And that’s all the time I gave myself when I set the alarm. Sorry, Romeo.”

  “Damn.”

  She brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it. “I can change that tomorrow morning and give us a little more time.”

  “I guess you’d better. I expect to be waking up this way tomorrow, too.” He sighed and flopped onto his back.

  “How much extra time will you need?” Moving to the edge of the bed, she grabbed the phone and shut off the alarm.

  “An hour.”

  She rolled to face him. “An hour? You want to wake up an hour early so we can have sex?”

  He grinned at her, his smile very white against his beard-darkened face. “You’re right. That’s not enough. Make it two hours.”

  “You’re insane.” Smiling, she climbed out of bed and tossed the sheet over the lower half of his body.

  He surveyed the result. “Oh, look, a circus tent. It’s the Greatest Show on—”

  “Sorry, but this part of the circus is leaving town.” She started toward the door.

  “If you could see yourself, you’d understand why I’m in this condition.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She pivoted and glanced down. “It’s just plain old me.”

  “There’s nothing plain about you.” He propped his hands behind his head. “You’re all pink, tousled and sleepy-eyed. Take a look in the mirror when you get a chance. You’re the most ready-for-sex woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nice try, but I’m still leaving. Have a good day.” She headed for the door again.

  “Thanks. You, too. Oh, and Keri?”

  “What?” She turned back to him with a show of impatience. She thought he was adorable with his stalling routine, but she couldn’t let him know that or he’d drag her back to bed.

  “I wonder if...well, if you have time, if you’d take a look at the sex scene I wrote last night. I labeled the file Sex Scene so it would be easy for you to find on my laptop.”

  She stared at him as two things registered. He’d been writing while she slept, and he valued her opinion. He valued it so much, in fact, that he’d immediately attempted to correct the flaw she’d pointed out in his books.

  Praising her sex appeal was one thing. Men complimented women on that all the time. But Michael had listened to her suggestion about his work and had put his ego aside to act on that suggestion. That took a special kind of guy.

  “You might not have time, though,” he said. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

  “I’ll make time.” She walked over to the bed and picked up a condom from the nightstand. “I’d be honored to read your scene.” She handed him the condom.

  “What’s this for? I thought you were leaving?”

  “I’ll dress a little faster today. I hear the circus is in town.” And she climbed back into bed.

  * * *

  “STAY WITH HIM! Stay with him!” Jack shouted encouragement as Michael focused on the constantly shifting motion of Finicky, one of Gabe Chance’s prime cutting horses. Michael had tried to talk Jack out of using this valuable horse for a beginner, but Jack had insisted that either the horse or the rider had to know what he was doing or they’d have chaos.

  Finicky, a chocolate-and-white Paint, was obviously the knowledgeable one in this pairing. Jack had released four steers into the corral, and Finicky was charged with singling out one of them and herding it into a pen.
Michael was simply along for the ride, but if he didn’t concentrate he’d land on his butt in the dirt. That had happened once already, and he didn’t want it happening again.

  “That’s it,” Jack said. “Now you’re feeling it. See if you can let go of the horn and stay on. Holding on to the horn will not impress the ladies.”

  Finicky swerved with the precision of a Formula One racer, and Michael almost didn’t make the turn with him. “I’m not ready for that, Jack.”

  “Sure you are. Stop thinking and let yourself feel the motion of the horse. He’ll telegraph his moves if you’re paying attention. Remember the analogy we talked about yesterday.”

  Michael knew exactly what analogy Jack was referring to, and fortunately he hadn’t shouted it out where anyone passing by could hear. But Keri was a dangerous topic for Michael right now. If he thought of her, he pictured her reading what he’d written last night, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

  He wanted to master this cutting horse business, though, so he let go of the horn and tried to anticipate Finicky’s next move. He failed to do that. Next thing he knew, he’d slid neatly out of the saddle and landed with a thud in the middle of the dusty corral.

  Jack hopped the fence and came over to collect the horse and hold out a hand to Michael. “What’s the problem, buddy? You were doing great yesterday. Did something go wrong upstairs?”

  “Nope.” Michael picked up his hat and slapped it against his jeans to knock off some of the dust. “All’s well.”

  “You’re not thinking about that, though, are you?”

  “I might’ve made a mistake.”

  Jack frowned. “I hope you’re not talking about doing it bareback, because that’s not acceptable.”

  “For God’s sake, Jack. I wouldn’t take that kind of risk. Give me some credit.”

  “Well, when you used the word mistake, my mind naturally went to that kind of mistake. What did you do, then?”