Free Wildcard by Cheyenne McCray Page B

calves.
    “If I stay around you any longer I’m going to fuck you, sugar,” he all but growled.
    “Isn’t that what we both want?” she whispered.
    Only the sound of the bubbling hot tub and a smattering of chirping crickets were her response. Jess stood, grabbed her bathrobe off the deckchair, helped her slip it on, then tied the sash with a rough tug.
    “When I make love to you,” he finally said, his voice still rough with desire, “no man is gonna come between us.” He caught her cheeks in his calloused palms and forced her to look at him. “No doubts. No fears. No regrets. Understand?”
    Trace nodded, unable to speak. Barely able to think.
    Jess gave her a quick, fierce kiss, then grabbed his boots and t-shirt and strode into the house without looking back.
     

Chapter Six
    Cool December winds brushed Trace’s cheeks as she strolled across the yard toward the barn. She loved how mild the winters were here, and surprisingly she liked how dry it was, too. Although she loved it there, England could get a little rainy and dreary at times.
    She still couldn’t believe what had happened two nights ago at the hot tub. Every time she thought about Jess—naked and doing the things he’d been doing to her—her stomach twisted and her body had an instant reaction. She swore she was walking around with permanently soaked panties and her nipples poking through her t-shirt like someone had stuck jelly beans in her bra.
    Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a couple of cowboys at the corrals, but she refused to look outright to see if Jess might be there. Of course she knew she really didn’t have to see him to know whether or not he was near. If he had been, she’d have been able to sense him, to feel his presence.
    When she reached the shadowed interior of the barn, Trace paused for a moment to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the dark. The old alarm bell still hung where it always had been, right at the barn’s entrance. That thing would wake the dead, her dad had always said. It was painted gold and kind of looked like a church bell, only smaller. And much louder, according to her father.
    Scents of alfalfa hay and sweet grain washed over her, along with odors of horse and liniment. Every smell was unique and brought back individual memories from all the years she’d grown up here.
    When she’d come into the barn yesterday to practice her kickboxing in the storage room, and to see her old mare Dancer, she’d been surrounded by countless memories from her childhood. She’d worked up a good sweat while kickboxing, practicing her kicks, punches, and jabs, enjoying being back at the ranch. That feeling of being home had wrapped around her like a warm blanket, making her feel relaxed and secure.
    But England was home now. She didn’t want the Flying M to feel like home. She had success and everything that went along with it, including a promising future.
    Trace wandered toward the ranch office that was close to the barn entrance and her thoughts turned to Jess. He hadn’t been back to the house since the experience in the hot tub, and she’d been both thankful and disappointed. Every time someone came to the front door her heart would start pounding, and she’d expect it to be Jess, but he’d stayed away. Maybe he was too busy, or maybe he was having second thoughts about pursuing her.
    Wow. Just the thought of that man pursuing her never failed to give her a little shiver down the small of her back. Somehow she didn’t think he was the type to give up when he’d found something he wanted. And wow , he wanted her.
    Yesterday she’d watched him from the back door of the barn, keeping to the shadows, but she’d been close enough to hear his deep voice, to see the powerful flex of his muscles beneath his denim western work shirt. If only she’d been able to see those incredible blue eyes…but they’d been hidden by his black Stetson.
    Jess had been instructing a younger ranch hand, helping the