Turn and Burn, Page 29

  “Let me.” He lifted the bottle and offered her another drink. Excess cider spilled out the corners of her mouth and dribbled down her neck. She raised her hand to swipe it away, but he stayed the movement and murmured, “I’ll get that.”

  The sensation of his warm tongue delicately lapping at her skin sent gooseflesh rippling from head to toe.

  “Be right back with something sweeter than you.”

  Tanna closed her eyes and listened to him rummaging in the fridge. What would he feed her? Chocolate syrup? Whipped cream? Ice cream?

  She heard him approaching and then Fletch’s hips pressed against the inside of her thighs. A hand fisted her hair, tilting her head back and he thoroughly plundered her mouth in a hot, wet kiss that electrified every nerve ending in her body. She whimpered. Arched against him. But he didn’t bring her closer. He eased back, his lips a whisper away.

  “Look at me.”

  She slowly lifted her lids. The beautiful man remained inches away, gazing into her eyes.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Her lips automatically parted. His fingers slid between her teeth and he dropped something on her tongue. She pressed the object against her hard palate. The taste of blueberry spread across her tongue. She swallowed and smiled.

  “You like?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Fletch held another berry to her lips.

  But she caught his fingertips between her teeth, swirling her tongue around the tips before sucking the fruit free.

  The heat that flashed in Fletch’s eyes sent a surge of warmth through her.

  “Another.”

  Tanna parted her lips, expecting a repeat, but he rimmed the inside of her lip with a fat raspberry, moving it so slowly she felt every seedy contour on the smooth inner flesh of her mouth. He repeated the process on her upper lip, his eyes avidly following the arc of the wet, berry-stained flesh. When he finished, she poked her tongue out and he placed the soft berry on the tip. She brought it into her mouth and sucked, feeling the fruit break apart.

  The next raspberry he fed her was coated in sugar. He pressed it against her lips, releasing the juice and turning the sugar granules sticky. He licked and sucked her mouth with such eroticism, she nearly forgot to breathe.

  “Tanna,” he whispered sexily against the corner of her mouth. “Give yourself to me tonight. Let me take care of all your needs. You don’t have to think, just feel.” He started kissing straight down her throat as his fingers twisted in her hair.

  “Why? I should be—”

  His mouth consumed hers until she forgot what she’d been about to say. “Indulge me.”

  Indulge? In that raspy tone it sounded more like a command.

  But she didn’t care. She wanted this commanding, yet sensual and nurturing side of Fletch. She liked how he took care of her. No man before had ever bothered so she truly didn’t know how to act when he treated her like someone special. Almost with reverence.

  Tanna looked into his eyes and said, “Consider yourself indulged.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  After a week and a half of sun, the day dawned overcast. Not cold. Or muggy. Clouds covered the wide-open sky—unusual for summer in Wyoming.

  Tanna slipped on boots, jeans and a tank top beneath her long-sleeved shirt. She wasn’t sure what Fletch had planned for them today, so she grabbed a light jacket from her trailer before she walked back to his.

  Fletch was on the deck, talking on the phone. He grinned at her and returned to his conversation.

  “I understand. No. That’s always worked in the past so I haven’t needed to explore other options.” He laughed. “Not a miracle worker by a long stretch. Just fire me an e-mail with whatever treatment you decide on. Sure. Tell her you couldn’t get in touch with me. No. She’ll insist on talking to me and I’m supposed to be off the grid. Mention her daddy. That always gets her back up. No problem. Thanks for the heads-up. See ya.” He hung up.

  “Problems?”

  “One of my clients is being a pain to my colleague who’s handling my practice during my sabbatical.”

  “I thought they weren’t supposed to be calling you.”

  “Emergency only.” Fletch pocketed his phone. “But she figures she’s a special exception. I assured my colleague she’s not. Anyway, it’s done with so let’s get started on our day.”

  “Where we goin’?”

  “Around,” was his vague reply. He took her hand, leading her to the parking area.

  “Are you gonna feed me?” In the last week the man had demonstrated a thing for making sure she ate. With his forced PT and concern for her diet, it was like she had a personal trainer and a nutritionist.

  “There are muffins and drinks in the truck. That oughta hold you for a little while.”

  “Are we goin’ on a picnic?”

  “Nope.” Then Fletch tugged her against his body and laid a fiery kiss on her.

  When she managed to break the lip-lock, she murmured, “And we’re not spending the whole day in bed doin’ that . . . why?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, we’ll have plenty of time for that after.”

  “After what?”

  Fletch just grinned and boosted her into the passenger side.

  They didn’t talk much on the drive. She studied the scenery whizzing past. Fletch turned onto a dirt road. After a few miles, he hung a right onto another road that disappeared between a grove of trees. The quaintest ranch came into view. The house had been painted white, the shutters red. A white metal fence stretched from the edge of the red barn and down the pasture. The cattle in the field were Charolais, a breed as rarely seen as longhorns around these parts.

  Fletch parked and cut the engine.

  Tanna looked to the front of the house, expecting someone to greet them, but the red door remained closed. Odder yet was when Fletch helped her down and towed her to a picnic table beneath a weeping willow. “I’ll admit you’ve got me stumped. Where are we?”

  He sat next to her on the whitewashed bench. “This place belongs to my dad’s good friends Wally and June Gansett. They’re in Jackson Hole. But I have permission to be here.” He slowly turned his body, giving himself a panoramic view. “I love this place. It’s so peaceful.”

  “It certainly doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen in Wyoming.” Tanna’s gaze met his. “So why are we here?”

  Fletch straddled the bench, mimicking her position, and took her hands. “I wanted to bring you to neutral ground so we could talk.”

  An uneasy feeling arose. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You.” He squeezed her hands. “Always.”

  “That’s a little vague.”

  When Fletch’s gaze locked to hers, her uneasiness grew. “Have you saddled a horse since we did the grooming demonstration at Eli’s?”

  She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “I’ve conditioned saddles. Does that count?”

  Fletch didn’t chastise; he just waited for her honest response to his question.

  “No, I haven’t saddled a horse. But I’ve groomed them and fed them and that should count for something.”

  “It does . . . for anyone else but you. You are a horsewoman to the core, Tanna. I’ve brought you out here to face that loss of yourself.”

  Tanna’s heart raced and that panicked feeling made every muscle in her body grow tense. If it were anyone else but Fletch she would’ve stomped off. But the firm way he held her hands and the gentle determination in his eyes kept her in place. “How?” slipped out of her lips.

  Fletch kissed her knuckles. “We’re goin’ horseback riding today.”

  Her stomach lurched and she tried to jerk her hands from his.

  But he held tightly. “Just you and me.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes. On one horse.”

  “Riding double? I haven’t done that since . . .” She’d first learned to ride. With her Uncle Manuel. She’d been young, but she still remembered his patienc
e. His complete confidence in her abilities. Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t be certain if her response was from remembrance or fear.

  “Hey.” Fletch got right in her face. “Don’t hide from me, Tanna. I want to help you and in order to do that I need to know everything you’re feeling.”

  Spots wavered in front of her eyes. Somehow she made her mouth work. “Well, I’m scared.”

  “Okay. Excited?”

  She shook her head.

  “Angry?”

  “Yes.”

  “At me? Or yourself?”

  “Both. I’m mad at myself because it shouldn’t be this fucking hard. I’m mad at you because . . . I don’t know why. I just am.”

  Fletch reached up and wiped her face. “Please, don’t cry.”

  She hadn’t realized the tears she’d tried to hold back had escaped.

  “Let me be what you need. If only for today.”

  “And if I lose my shit? What then, Fletch?”

  His eyes searched hers. “Are you worried I’ll run after seeing you that way?”

  She nodded.

  “I won’t. I promise.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Nothin’ will make me run from you, Tanna. Nothin’. You can punch me, slap me, scream at me. You’re a little bitty thing. I’m a big guy. I can take whatever you dish out.”

  “You sure?” Tanna eased back and held her hands out so he could see how badly she was shaking. “I’m this way just at the thought of getting on a horse.”

  Fletch threaded his fingers through hers. “See? If you have me to hold on to the shaking isn’t as bad.”

  More tears fell. The man was so damn sweet and wonderful and perfect. He deserved a woman who wasn’t broken inside.

  “C’mere.” He lifted her onto his lap. His strong arms wrapped around her and he set his chin on top of her head.

  She hid her face in the crook of his neck. Trying to slow down the mad pounding of her heart. Trying to breathe normally. The scent of his skin, being surrounded by him, supported by him, eased the fear somewhat. But not entirely.

  He shifted her body so he could look into her eyes. “You can do this.”

  In that moment Tanna understood why she trusted Fletch implicitly. His praise and kindness, all wrapped up in warm assurance gave her self-confidence a much-needed kick in the ass.

  “Okay.” She disentangled from him and stood. Or tried to stand but her legs gave out.

  “I’ve got you.” Once again he swooped her into his arms.

  His long-legged strides ate up the distance to the barn door. After pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, he set her on her feet.

  She curled her hands around the metal fence.

  “The horse we’re riding today is a twenty-year-old gelding. A Belgian Draft horse. He’s big enough to carry both of us. He’s gentle and the most even-tempered horse I’ve ever dealt with.”

  “What if I can’t do it?”

  “You can. You will. That’s why we’re here. No one else is around. It might take you a hundred tries to get on today, but I promise you will be on Gus before we leave.”

  “Fletch—”

  “I brought a bandana to use as a blindfold. Your choice if I put it on you or not. Obscuring vision works for some skittish animals.” Fletch ducked his head to look into her eyes. “You still with me here?”

  She nodded.

  “Huh-uh, sugar twang. Say the words back to me so I know you’re cognizant of what’s goin’ on. Are you with me?”

  “Yes, I’m with you.”

  “Good. Do you need a drink or to use the bathroom or anything before I get Gus?”

  “No. I’ll just . . . hang on to the fence and”—freak the fuck out—“wait.”

  Fletch took a blue bandana square out of his back pocket, shook it out and rolled it from end to end before draping it around her neck. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.” He kissed her. “Wear it or don’t. Your choice. Be right back.”

  She let go of the fence and paced. Half tempted to “accidentally” twist her bad knee. Fletch wouldn’t make her get on if she had a flare-up of her previous injury.

  He’d know you did it on purpose. Do you really want to see disappointment in his eyes?

  No.

  Tanna scoured the area wondering where she’d need to stand to get a leg up on the horse. Since they were riding bareback, there wouldn’t be a stirrup.

  Each minute she waited wound her tighter. So when she heard the soft plop plop of horse hooves in the dirt, she nearly shot out of her skin.

  Fletch led Gus out. The horse was huge with a beautiful shiny light brown coat and a pale, almost blond mane. He didn’t act too spirited as he clomped closer. Fletch alternately talked to Gus and watched her. He stopped just inside the gate and tied the lead rope around a fence post. “How you doin’?”

  She shrugged. Sharing all her whacked-out physical reactions wouldn’t help either of them.

  “You wanna come in here and get acquainted with Gus while I round up some oats?”

  Tanna shook her head. “Over the fence is fine.”

  Fletch’s face betrayed nothing. He turned and jogged back toward the barn.

  Gus didn’t pay much attention to her. He didn’t dance around impatiently either.

  She moved closer. “So, Gus, you’re in for a real treat. If I’m even able to climb on you. How am I supposed to hold on with no saddle horn? Will the doc want me riding in front of him? Or behind him?”

  Gus just blinked slowly.

  “So I’m telling you that the last horse I rode ended up dead. Was it my fault? I don’t know. Alls I know is I can’t shake the guilt. And the regret.”

  Fletch approached Gus on the left side. Immediately Gus’s head disappeared inside the tin pail. But Fletch’s quizzical eyes were on her.

  No way would she tell Fletch she’d confessed her transgressions to a horse.

  Gus emptied the contents of the bucket in no time. He raised his head and Fletch was right there with the bridle, employing that gentle soothing tone he sometimes used with her. “Are you using the bandana?”

  “No.”

  “I won’t insult you and suggest I lead you around the corral before we ride.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s what you want?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good. I’ll get on first. You’ll ride behind me. Sound okay?”

  The blood was rushing through her head so fast she scarcely heard him. His mouth moved but the words were unclear.

  Fletch brought Gus close to the fence, climbed to the third rung and threw a leg over.

  Just like that he was mounted up.

  Easy, right?

  And just like that, Tanna had to bend at the waist so she didn’t pass out or throw up or both. When the whooshing sensation lessened, she reached out and used the fencing bars to pull herself upright. Took her a few seconds to meet Fletch’s gaze.

  The muscle in his jaw flexed. His lips were compressed into a thin line. She couldn’t read his eyes, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. He hadn’t moved when she’d been discreetly dry-heaving and trying not to black out from fear.

  He said, “Better?” after God knows how long she hung back from the fence.

  Tanna swallowed twice before she could speak. “I guess.”

  “Come on, sugar twang. I’m right here. It’s just you and me and this old horse.”