Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer

She shook her head. “Amazing. Men who cook.”

Laughing, Sawyer reached for her and helped her out of the bed. She clutched at the top blanket, dragging it off the mattress and disturbing the cat, who looked very put out over the whole thing. Honey apologized to the animal, who gave her a dismissive look and recurled herself to sleep.

“You’ll have cat hair in the bed.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s your bed.”

“You’re sleeping in it.”

They stared at each other for a taut, electric moment, then Honey looked away. Her hands shook as she busied herself by wrapping the blanket over and around her shoulders. It dragged the ground, even hiding her feet.

He supposed that was best; even though the jersey covered her from shoulders to knees, he didn’t want his brothers ogling her—and they would. They were every bit as aware of an attractive woman as Sawyer, and Honey, in his opinion, was certainly more attractive than most. His brothers might not comment on the sexy picture she made with her hair disheveled, her feet bare and her slender body draped in an overlarge male shirt, but they’d notice.

She seemed steadier now, but he kept his right arm around her and held her elbow with his left hand, just in case. She was firmly in his embrace, and he liked it.

To get his mind off lusty thoughts and back on the subject at hand, he asked, “Don’t you know any men who cook?”

She sent him an incredulous look. “My father’s never even made his own coffee. I doubt he’d know how. And my fiancé took it for granted that cooking was a woman’s job.”

They’d almost reached the door, and Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks. His heart punched against his ribs; his thighs tightened. Without even realizing it, his hands gripped her hard as he turned her to face him. “You have a fiancé?”

Her eyes widened. The way he held her, practically on her tiptoes, pulled her off balance, and she braced her palms flat against his chest. He saw her pupils dilate as awareness of their positions sank in. “Sawyer…”

Her voice was a whisper, and he barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He pulled her a little closer still, until her body was flush against his and her heartbeat mingled with his own. “Answer me, dammit. Are you engaged?”

She didn’t look frightened by his barbaric manner, which was a good thing since he couldn’t seem to get himself in hand. That word fiancé was bouncing off his brain with all the subtlety of a bass drum. If she was going to be married soon…

“Not…not anymore.”

“What?” He was so rattled, he wasn’t at all sure he understood.

“I’m not engaged, not anymore.”

Something turbulent and dangerous inside him settled, but in its place was a sudden blast of violent heat, an awareness of how much her answer had mattered to him.

He looked down at her mouth, saw her parted lips tremble, and he went right over the edge. He leaned down until he could feel her warm breath on his mouth, fast and low, and the vibrancy of her expectation, her own awareness.

And then he kissed her.

CHAPTER FIVE

HONEY CLUTCHED at him, straining to make the contact more complete. Her blanket fell to the floor in a puddle around her feet. She barely noticed.

She didn’t think about what was happening, and she didn’t think about pulling away. Overwhelmed by pure sensation, by heat and need she’d never experienced before, she wanted only to get closer. She’d thought the attraction was one-sided, but now, feeling the faint trembling in Sawyer’s hard body, she knew he was affected, too.

Sawyer’s mouth was warm and firm, and he teased, barely touching her, giving her time to change her mind, to pull back. Until she groaned.

There was an aching stillness for half a heartbeat, then his mouth opened on hers, voraciously hungry, and his hands slid around to her back, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. She felt the hot slide of his tongue and the more brazen press of his swollen sex against her belly. A delicious sensation of yearning unfurled inside her, making her thighs tingle and her toes curl. Her fever was back, hotter than ever.

A knock sounded on the door.

They both jumped apart, Sawyer with a short vicious curse, Honey with a strained gasp. She almost fell as her feet tangled in the forgotten blanket, and would have if Sawyer hadn’t reached out and snagged her close again. He stared down into her face, his expression hard, his gaze like glittering ice, then called out, “What?”

The door opened and Jordan stuck his head in. He took one look at them, made a sheepish face and started to pull it shut again.

Sawyer caught the doorknob, keeping the door open. “What is it?”

Honey fumbled for the blanket, wishing she could pull it completely over her head and hide. It was so obvious Jordan knew exactly what he’d interrupted. Yet she’d only known Sawyer a day and a half, less if you counted how much she’d slept.

It didn’t matter to her body, and not really to her heart.

“Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” Jordan glanced at her, gave a small smile at her fumbling efforts to cover herself and again tried to sidle out.

“Can you make it twenty?” Sawyer asked, apparently not the least uncomfortable, or else hiding it very well. “She was just about to bathe.”

Jordan slanted her an appraising look, and Honey wanted to kick Sawyer. She was off balance, both emotionally and physically. That kiss…wow. She’d never known anything like it. How the hell could he stand there and converse so easily when she could barely get the words to register in her fogged brain? And how could he manage to embarrass her like that?

Firmly, but with a distinct edge to her croaking voice, she said, “I don’t want you to hold up dinner on my account.” She made a shooing motion with her free hand, trying to be nonchalant. “Just go on and eat. Really.”

Jordan caught her fluttering hand and grinned. “Nonsense. We can wait. Morgan is running a little late, anyway. He had some trouble in town.”

She felt Sawyer shift and tighten his arm around her. “What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing serious. A cow got loose from the Morrises’ property and wandered into the churchyard. Traffic was backed up for a mile.”

Honey tilted her head, thrilled for a change of topic. “The cow was blocking traffic?”

“No. Everyone just stopped to gawk. Around here, a cow on the loose is big news.” Then, with a totally straight face and a deadpan voice, Jordan added, “Luckily, the cow wasn’t spooked too badly by all the attention.”

Honey bit back her smile.

At that moment, the cat leaped off the bed to twine around Jordan’s ankles. Without even looking down, he scooped up the small pet and cuddled her close, encouraging the melodic, rumbling purr. To Honey, he said, “Go on and take your bath. There’s no rush.”

They stepped into the hallway en masse, two powerful men, an ecstatic cat and a woman wrapped head to toes in a blanket. They nearly collided with Casey, who was liberally caked in mud. He’d removed his shoes so he wasn’t tracking anything in, but mud was on his legs clear to his knees. The shirt he’d worn, thanks to her interference—she still didn’t know what had come over her—was dirt- and sweat-stained. He looked more like a man than ever.

Holding up both hands, Casey said, “Don’t come too close. The fields are drenched and muddy as hell…uh, heck. And half that mud is on me.”

Jordan clapped him on the back. “Well, you’ll have to use Gabe’s shower, because the little lady wants a bath.”

Casey stared at her.

Honey deduced that the phenomenon of having a female bathing in the all-male household warranted nearly as much attention as a cow on the loose.

Her face was getting redder by the second. If she didn’t have a fever, she soon would. Never in her life had bathing been such an ordeal, or been noted and discussed by so many males.

The front door slammed, and not long after, Morgan rounded the hall, already stripping his shirt off with frustrated, jerky movements. Powerful, bulky muscles rippled across his broad shoulders and heavy chest as he stamped around the corner of the hall. He had his hands on the button to his tan uniform slacks when he realized he had an audience.

He didn’t look the least discomforted at being caught undressing in the middle of the day, in the middle of the house, in front of a crowd.