Dirty-Talking Cowboy Page 9

  Her pause this time was even longer, while Tadgh continued on with his fluid gait. When she finally did speak again, her voice hinted at deep sadness. “I think it seems easy to move on, but it’s not, believe me.”

  He understood that pain. Change was always hard, and she had given up a lot when she left New York City. “It won’t always be so hard. You’re a good, sweet woman, Emma.” He wrapped his arm around her tighter, holding her close to his chest, hoping that he was saying what she needed to hear. “Don’t forget that.”

  He sensed the way his words affected her by the way she relaxed against him. He let the silence overcome them again as Tadgh carefully made his way across the Blackshaw land, with Bentley in tow following quietly. Shep wasn’t worried about the horse. He’d already determined that Bentley wasn’t dangerous to people, he was simply afraid. Shep could work with that. And as Bentley followed, not putting up any fuss, Shep knew the rehabilitation of the abused horse wouldn’t take long. Bentley wanted to find peace, that much was obvious in his soft dark eyes, as obvious as it was in Emma’s eyes.

  As Tadgh strode through a small creek, the water splashing up around them, Emma asked, “Have you always been this way?”

  Shep pressed the reins against Tadgh’s neck, turning him slightly to the right. “What way?”

  She hesitated. “Centered.”

  “Yes.”

  Another pause. “Okay, then you have to tell me why you’re single. I don’t get it.”

  He smiled, even if she couldn’t see it, liking that compliment. Not all women would see him as centered, but he liked how Emma saw him. “I haven’t had the time for a relationship. Work has kept me busy.”

  “When was your last relationship?” Her voice lifted a little, indicating to him she was glad to get the subject off her for a little while.

  So he indulged her. He knew her secrets. He wouldn’t withhold his. “My last relationship ended just over two years ago. Her name was Sara. We met in college. We were both in the business program.”

  “What happened between you?”

  Tadgh tripped on a rock but corrected himself quickly. Shep kept his hand on Emma’s thigh, reins loose. “After we finished college, we lived together for five years. Life couldn’t have been better. We were good for a long time.”

  “I take it things started to fall apart.”

  Shep exhaled a long breath, glancing out at the trees ahead of him. “Sara had big dreams in a big city.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Actually,” he corrected her, “I moved to LA for her. We lived there for two years together. But in the end, I wasn’t ‘big city’ enough for her. Sara left River Rock one woman, and the second she entered LA, she became someone else. For a long time, I tried to work it out. She did too. But the breakup was inevitable.”

  Emma squirmed back until her bum rested against Shep’s groin. “You moved back home after that, then?”

  “That’s right.” Shep fought to keep his mind focused on the conversation.

  Emma hesitated; her voice softened. “Do you hate her?”

  “No.” Shep bit back a groan at how Emma’s bottom kept brushing against his cock with Tadgh’s stride. “Sara is who she is. I can’t control her behavior. But I can control not allowing that drama into my life.”

  “And after you broke up, you never looked back?”

  “I haven’t looked back once.” He wrapped his arm around her a little bit tighter. “The past is the past. I don’t act rashly. When I make a decision, it’s final.”

  A slight breeze brushed across them, fluttering her hair while she asked, “Do you miss her at all?”

  Would I stop missing Jake? he heard between the lines.

  Shep hesitated, surprised that when she alluded to Jake, it didn’t bother him more. Truth was, he knew she spoke of Jake from a place of pain, and somehow that softened the subject. He surprisingly wanted her to share it all. “On one hand,” he explained, “there are times I miss what we had. When it was good, it was good.”

  “On the other hand?”

  “On the other hand, I’m content with being alone. Women can be . . .”

  “Difficult?” she offered.

  “Complicated,” he corrected gently. “Right now, I’ve got enough trouble on my plate, to be honest. For me to date anyone, the woman would have to be less complicated, and more settled. That wasn’t Sara, that’s why it would never work between us.” And that answer he knew would ease her too, since she didn’t want to get too involved. Emma was full of complications. He shouldn’t want to start anything with her, and yet there they were.

  As they reached the edge of another creek, Tadgh paused a moment, and after a gentle nudge, he stepped in the water, and Bentley followed.

  Once they cleared the water, she stroked Tadgh’s neck and asked, “Do you mind my asking what else you’ve got on your plate?”

  Ah, caught that, did she? “My father passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, my God, Shep.” She leaned fully against him now. “I’m so sorry. I did not know about that. Here I am talking all about me, and you’ve got this—”

  “Stop, it’s fine. How would you have known?” He held her as close as she’d let him. Christ, she felt good in his arms like this. “You didn’t know me, or my family.” He paused, realizing he hadn’t really talked about his father’s death until now. His throat tightened, thickened. “He died of a heart attack, and his death has been a shock. My father seemed in his prime. Yes, he was pushing seventy years old, but I’d pass him off as fifty. He took care of himself. My mother made sure he ate well.”

  Emma’s voice softened. “I take it that you’re dealing with his estate, that that’s where the trouble is.”

  Usually stress was financially motivated. And maybe she knew that from dealing with Daisy’s estate. “Well, you’re not wrong, but it goes deeper than only dealing with my father’s estate. Earlier this morning, I found out from my father’s accountant that Blackshaw Cattle is struggling.”

  “You have the largest cattle company in River Rock, don’t you?”

  “I don’t, no,” he clarified. “The company belonged to my father, and apparently, instead of asking his sons for help, he let the company slip. The accountant told me today I have two choices. One, sell the company. Two, figure out a way to bring the numbers back up in less than a year or the company will go bankrupt.”

  “Gosh, that is stressful.”

  Shep chuckled dryly. “Just a little.”

  Silence drifted over them while Tadgh passed through a small patch of the forest where the trail was well ridden. “Why would your father not ask for help?” she eventually asked.

  “Pride, I imagine.” Shep wished that hadn’t been the case. This would have been easier to fix two years ago. Christ, even one year ago. “I wish he would have told me. I have my contract with the military now; it’s a little hard to put my life on the back burner.”

  “You have a contract with the military?” she asked, turning her head slightly, her brows furrowed.

  “I own Blackshaw Survival, which is a wilderness survival company. Recently, I’ve received a new contract with the military, which sends recruits to me for training on how to survive in harsh conditions.”

  “Wow. That’s a really cool job.”

  “It is that.”

  She paused. “But now I’m thinking, shouldn’t you be going back to work, instead of spending time with me?”

  Tadgh stepped clear from the forest. Shep glanced back at Bentley, whose head was down in a relaxed position, before he addressed her again. “My next contract doesn’t start for two weeks. I’ve got three guys working alongside me, and we always take time off between jobs. It’s hard work and demanding on the body.”

  “I can only imagine,” she said, awe in her voice. “You must love it, though, to do that type of work.”

  He nodded, his hips moving with Tadgh’s stride. “I enjoy knowing that I can survive, no matter what
Mother Nature throws at me.”

  She sighed, glancing out in front of her. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a good thing to experience.”

  A little survival training might be good for her, he thought. Nothing boosted one’s confidence and self-worth more than living in the elements for a week solid with no food or shelter but what you manage to find and build yourself. Though he noted the tension in her posture, so he brought the conversation back to her earlier question, keeping the focus off her for a while. “As to why my father never told us, I can only imagine he didn’t want to put his dreams on his sons.”

  “But had you known . . .”

  He finished for her, “Had we known that he was struggling, we would have helped.”

  “Maybe that’s why he never said anything,” she offered.

  “Maybe.” He turned Tadgh to the right, heading up the trail that led toward his house.

  A quiet moment went by; obviously she was processing what he’d told her. She finally turned her head again, showing the full side of her face, and asked, “Have you decided what you’re going to do now, with the company and all?”

  He let out a sigh that even sounded long-suffering to him. “I need to talk to my brothers and see how they want to handle this.”

  “Probably a good place to start.” Another pause. Then, “There’s gotta be a way to balance it all.”

  The warmth of her encased him when she laced her fingers with his on her thigh. He leaned in and kissed her bare shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 7

  An hour later, with the horses settled in the small paddock next to Shep’s one-story log house, Emma sat at Shep’s four-person wood table, her steak dinner nearly finished. She studied him from her chair while he reached for two more beers from the stainless steel fridge in the kitchen. Sure, the package was certainly mouthwateringly perfect, but there was something else about this guy who was making her sit up and take notice, something kind and strong.

  Around her, the clear stain on the log walls looked new, the black paint on the kitchen cupboards looked fresh. There weren’t any paintings on the log walls, only a sixty-five-inch flat screen above the earthy stone fireplace.

  With the high cathedral ceilings in the living room, the fireplace drew the eye first, leading to a dark brown couch and a recliner around a wrought iron coffee table. Two large sliding doors stood on either side of the fireplace with a picture-perfect view of the mountains. “How long have you lived here?” she asked, glancing toward the open-concept kitchen again.

  Shep kicked the fridge door closed. “When me and my brothers turned eighteen, our father gave us each a piece of the property to build on.” He cracked the beers open, tossing the caps into the garbage. “My father had no patience for laziness. He always said if we wanted a nice house, then we needed to build it.”

  She looked around again, reassessing. “You built this?”

  “Not at eighteen, no.” Shep returned to his seat, placing her bottle down first, then his in front of his plate. “I lived in a small trailer for a long time. After I moved home from LA and my company began to take off, Chase helped me build this place.”

  The level of workmanship originally had her thinking that whoever built this had been doing so for years. “You said before that Chase wanted to start a construction company, right?”

  Shep nodded, took a sip of his beer, then answered her. “He’s talented, a good builder, as you can see.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Every line of this house, every little detail, made it obvious that Chase had some serious skill when it came to building log homes. “All right, so then you and Chase built this place?”

  “Nash helped too.” Shep cut into the final few pieces of his steak. “In fact, the three of us built all our houses, but without Chase, they wouldn’t look as good as they do.”

  She laughed softly then took a couple of sips of the cool, crisp India pale ale before focusing on her food. Her stomach stretched and complained. She ignored the hell out of that and dug into the final three pieces of her steak. The man could cook.

  Once she swallowed the final bite, she wiped the paper towel over her mouth. Shep had already finished his meal, watching her while he drank his beer. She began to discover the silence with him wasn’t awkward in the least but also felt full of questions. One particular question had been sitting on her mind for an hour. She was onto her third beer now, and before she could figure out if it was wise or not, she blurted out, “Are you into kinky sex?”

  His brows rose with his laugh. He returned the bottle to the table. “Have you been holding that in?”

  “Maybe a little bit.” She soothed away her embarrassment with a big sip of the crisp ale before continuing. “I mean, it’s hard to explain, but when you used the rope on me at the Spurs, it felt . . . different.”

  He gave a purely masculine satisfied grin. “Of course it felt different; you practically melted for all to see.”

  She smiled back since there was no arguing with that point, forcing herself to push on. “Which only proves my point further. The touch of the rope felt sensual, for sure, which got me to thinking that maybe it’s not all fun and games for you, and you’re into that kind of thing, and that’s why I reacted so intensely to the rope.”

  He gave her a careful regard. “Have you considered that you reacted that way because you are into kinky sex yourself?”

  Her mouth went dry, pulse kicking up a notch. “Well, I don’t have much experience with kinky sex, so I wouldn’t know what I’m into and what I’m not.” Of course, she’d fantasized over sex that left her sweaty, messy, and satisfied.

  Leaning forward, he tilted his head, gazing at her with focus. “You’ve never been tied up?”

  “No.”

  “Blindfolded?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s a shame,” he replied dryly. “How about spanked?”

  She laughed awkwardly. “You know, in the moment, on the butt or something, yeah, but nothing more than that.”

  “Toys?”

  “I have a vibrator.”

  He chuckled, displaying a wide grin. “Has a man ever used a toy on you?”

  “Um, no.”

  Again he paused to examine her, his gaze searching hers. “So, you’ve had very vanilla sex, then?”

  “I suppose so,” she admitted.

  “How many lovers have you had?”

  “Three.”

  Again he regarded her, obviously taking her measure. Then he gave a smile that slowly began to build. “How would you feel if I said that since the second I saw you, all I’ve thought about is tying you up, spanking you until your ass is red and warm, and using toys on you?”

  A flush crept across her cheeks, but she shoved her embarrassment aside, wanting to feel what she’d felt on that stage with him again. “I’d say that I’m interested in hearing more about that.”

  The side of his mouth arched in that sexy way of his, telling her his mind was filling with filthy ideas. “It’s really quite simple. I like to be in control in the bedroom,” he explained, voice low. “I get off when a woman ‘hands over the reins,’ so to speak, so that I can play with her body as I like. Whether that be binding her, blindfolding her, spanking her, or whatever else I feel like doing to her.”

  “Is that not arrogance?” She couldn’t help but ask.

  “It’s complete arrogance, darlin’, but it’s deserved arrogance. When I play, I deliver.”

  She stared into the heat and strength of his eyes, pulled by their ability to suck her in, finding no way to argue that point with him. “I imagine that’s very much true.”

  He leaned forward, keeping his heady stare focused on her. “I learned a long time ago that’s what gets me off. Kinky play is my type of foreplay. I like to push the boundaries of sex to intensify the high until we explode together.”

  God, had their sex last night bored the hell out of him? “What about slow and
sensual sex?”

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and his voice softened. “There’s always a time to fuck a woman slowly and sensually. But there is also a time to fuck her hard and remind her that she’s alive and that I find her sexy as hell.”

  Emma wasn’t sure at what point in his speech her panties became damp with her arousal, but her clit suddenly throbbed and she crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs, giving herself the pleasure she sought. “Is that why you like going to the Spurs? Because of all the kinky games and stuff? Are you hoping to meet other people who are into that kind of sex too?”

  He laughed dryly, deliberately raising his eyebrows. “Darlin’, I went to the Spurs that first night I saw you because it was Nash’s birthday. The last time I’d gone there was for Chase’s birthday months earlier.”

  Emma blinked. “If you’re not a regular, then why did you let Megan get you on stage?”

  “Megan never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  “That night Megan needed another person in the competition because no one else volunteered, so she begged me to take part,” he explained. “I’m normally not one for those games, but in this case, I had told her I’d only do the game if she teamed me up with you.”

  “Why?”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Because I wanted a closer look at you, and I got it, didn’t I?” He scooted his chair closer, her breath hitching as all that powerful energy surrounded her. “Believe me, Emma.” His voice turned gruff. “I noticed you the second I walked into the bar that first night on Nash’s birthday. You are the very reason I kept coming back.” He leaned forward, brushing his finger slowly up her arm resting on the table. “Though, as to your original question about whether I’m into kinky sex, I most certainly am. I like my sex dirty. Sometimes I like a good, quick, hard fuck. Other times, I like to draw things out. And there is nothing I want more than for us to play.”

  She shivered against the heat exuding from his finger, goose bumps rising on her flesh.

  He gazed deeply at his finger trailing over her flesh. “That night at the bar, when I tied the rope around your wrists, I could feel how much you wanted to play, just as I can feel it now.” His eyes lifted to hers, the warmth in their depths enveloping her. “It tempts me, Emma.”