Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) Read online

  I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and pushed back my hair. Mathew pulled his shirt open and I could see his chest, the muscles defining it. I sucked my breath in as I stripped down my shorts. His eyes were locked on me and mine on him. I could see where the V went down into his pants and I knew he had no underwear on. He smiled when he saw my reaction and stripped off his shirt and then his pants. My breathing came in small pants as I admired his naked body, and his erection.

  I quickly removed my bra and panties and went to him, naked. I ran my hands down his chest, down his stomach, then took his hardness into my hand. He groaned and his breathing grew quicker, and I could see the desire in his eyes.

  “You’re going to make me crazy, aren’t you?” I murmured.

  It came out husky, sexy, and raw and he smiled.

  “Can I still do that to you?” he asked, kissing me softly on the mouth.

  Then he kissed down my chin with little butterfly kisses, down my neck, and throat to my nipples that had already gone hard with desire. He flicked them with his tongue, one and then the other, and then sucked on each one. When he stood back up in front of me I looked into his eyes. I wanted him so badly.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I said in a hoarse whisper.

  He thrust into me with a hunger that sent waves of shivers through my body. He rode me until the pleasure was almost painful. Our bodies connected, finding the perfect rhythm, harder, faster, until we hit the top. Like a roller coaster pausing for an instant and then plunging together down the other side. A vulnerable gasp escaped his chest as he collapsed on top of me and stayed there. I breathed him in. His wonderful freshly showered Mathew scents mixed with our smell of sex. I held him for a while and then rolled from under him and curled into the nook of his chest and underarm. I wanted nothing more than to stay right there.

  We went to dinner that night to a small café in Los Gatos. It was a busy place, with brick floors. Unusual, I thought. We sat in a booth on the same side, pushed into each other. I noticed the walls were lined with funky signs and plants filled the front windows. For the first time, he asked me to tell him about Max. He’d found the scar on my head, and I explained about the accident. He found my passive-aggressive behavior about the Blazer amusing.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt, but the story is pretty funny. He lies to you, so you take his Blazer, with a guy he doesn’t like, stay out drinking and dancing, and then crash it. Maybe it will teach him not to lie,” he chuckled.

  “I doubt it. I don’t think he connected the two things.”

  I wished he hadn’t brought up Max. Now he was in the room with us and I didn’t want him to be. I moved the silverware on the table uneasily.

  “Morgan, why do you stay? If you loved the guy, you wouldn’t have spent the last few days with me,” Mathew said.

  Love, the damn love thing, what the hell was it? It seemed to me to be an illusive animal; it was there, but not exactly.

  “Hmm, it’s just that Mathew magic,” I grinned, leaning into him playfully.

  Mathew looked into my eyes and then leaned in and kissed me.

  “It’s only Gayle that thinks I’m magic.”

  “Only with me,” I chuckled.

  I fiddled with the silverware on the table again. Putting it horizontal and then vertical.

  “And to answer your question, I don’t know why I stay, habit maybe. Maybe I want to believe love exists, and it can last. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself.”

  Mathew was never one for staying in a relationship too long, especially if it wasn’t good. I couldn’t come up with a decent reason as to why I was still with Max. As we talked, it hit me why my relationship with Mathew had transitioned through so much time and space; we never had a chance to give it time. The day-to-day of living never crept in. When we were together, it was the passion and us: no bills, no laundry, no car wrecks.

  We made love again that night before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I woke in the morning to his kisses down my body, and he took me on one more roller coaster ride. I didn’t want our time together to end, to go back to real life.

  “I wish I could stay,” I said.

  “I know,” he said, as he ran his fingers down my back.

  “Did you mean what you said at the Hyatt? That if you’d ever given in, we wouldn’t be together now?”

  “I just meant we’ve had our moments over the years, keep having them. I think it’s good.”

  I wanted to ask about love, but I stuffed it down. It didn’t make a difference; our lives were what they were. I snuggled into his side, feeling his warm body against mine. Max never made me feel this, like the moment was perfect, just by its self. Instead he made me feel like what I gave was never enough. Like somehow I lacked something, not that we lacked something.

  Mathew drove me to his parent’s house to meet mine, in order for us to head back to the airport. As he pulled into the driveway I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. I stared out the windshield at the O’Conner’s house, his old house as he shut off the engine. He and I had spent so much time together here; there were so many memories. The thought of leaving him was tearing me apart. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and make the world go away. I wished for the first time in years that we could be together as a couple. I wondered why we’d not broached the subject. In all our years of circling each other Mathew and I had never talked about a future together; it hadn’t seemed feasible.

  “No regrets?” Mathew asked breaking into my thoughts.

  He’d held back the night of the wedding until I’d told him I would have no regrets by being with him. A vice like grip went around my heart, and my nose burned, the tears I knew not far behind.

  “Definitely no regrets,” I whispered, leaning across the car to kiss him.

  I hadn’t come to San Jose with any intention of being with Mathew. I had envisioned us catching up at the wedding, no doubt dancing together, possibly some flirting, and the rest of the weekend spent with Gayle. The intense, sometimes insane, feelings I had for him, I chalked up to being young, and yet now, I had to rethink that. I had walked into the wedding, determined to keep my head on straight, and he had changed that instantly.

  Chapter 4

  Mathew had pulled me back into his arms without even a struggle from me. I had gone willingly, and thoughts of him flooded my mind all the way home. I knew that I needed to untangle my feelings for Mathew from around my heart, but our history was so complicated and messy. Now, heading home, I was desperately trying to make a conscious effort to refocus on my feelings for Max. I had no idea how I would feel when I saw him. Maybe when I saw him that is when the guilt would engulf me. I should feel twisted up in shame, but I don’t. Why? “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have spent the last few days with me” Mathew’s words rang in my ears.

  “Are you going to Max’s?” Mom asked when we got back to the house.

  Dad and Pat had brought the luggage in and it all sat in the family room, like stiff soldiers, handles still up. The cute panties and bra I’d last taken off for Mathew packed neatly in my bag on my dirty clothes side.

  “No, I think I’ll stay home tonight,” I answered pensively.

  “That surprises me,” she said.

  My head jerked back slightly as I stared at her.

  “It does?” I asked.

  “Mathew?”

  I could see the worry in her eyes as she searched mine.

  “Duh,” I said, tears springing to my eyes.

  She came to me and gave me a hug, realizing I was struggling. She held me tight and the tears came flooding, silently at first. She rocked me when she could feel my body shake.

  “Sometimes I wish you found it harder to tell me things,” she said.

  “I know. I’m sorry. God, Mom, I didn’t give it a thought that I could fall back in, that the old feelings for Mathew would come rushing back like a tidal wave. I figured we had both moved on from the old days. It’s been years sin
ce we even spoke, why would I think we would tumble back into bed just like that,” I cried, snapping my fingers.

  “When Gayle said you were with Mathew, I figured,” she sighed. “I figured it was more than a social visit.”

  Max wasn’t happy that I didn’t want to drive over to his house. He wouldn’t think of driving over to mine, so I didn’t ask, although I didn’t want to be with him anyway. Mathew was weighing too heavily on my mind.

  I talked to Mom about the weekend, about my feelings for Max, about my confusion about what love really meant. About why I stayed in relationships that weren’t working. She listened and offered the advice she could. She didn’t scold me about cheating, but instead pointed out that I should try and understand the reason it was so easy for me. I needed to sort out my own feelings; she couldn’t do it for me.

  I finished paying off the Blazer that summer and started back to college in the fall. Max and I were still going out, but it was becoming more and more evident to me that our relationship was not what it should be. Neither of us was very into it. We both spent a lot more time with friends, and the boys’ nights out increased. I knew he was out looking, but I didn’t really care. It was as if neither of us wanted to be the bad guy and quit. And it frustrated Mom.

  “Do you still love Max? Did you ever love him?” she asked one evening when I stopped by.

  She’d asked me to stay home, to not go to Max’s. Her brow was wrinkled in annoyance as she poured us both a glass of wine.

  “Mom, I’m not sure I know anymore what love is,” I answered. “I thought I loved him. I was pretty sure I did until the accident. After the accident, I started to look at things differently. I can blame it on the concussion right?”

  “Right,” she said sarcastically. “No, you can’t blame it on that.”

  “Then the weekend with Mathew happened, and I questioned it even more, the love thing. How could my feelings for Mathew be so strong if I truly loved Max? Can you love two people at the same time? Max is selfish, and I suppose to some extent we all are, but everything has to be his way. If it isn’t, he gets mad or refuses to participate in whatever I want to do. I think if you love someone, it should be give-and-take, not all taking.”

  I flashed back to when I’d accidently got pregnant, and he made it my problem, not our problem. How I’d scheduled the appointment for an abortion, and he hadn’t even driven me there. He was supposed to pick me up and instead left me waiting in the parking lot still somewhat drugged up from the procedure for over an hour. Was that what you did to someone you loved? I quickly erased that from my head, it was a thought and a story I didn’t share with Mom—I knew it would make her too sad.

  “Do you think you still love Mathew?” Mom asked.

  “I do, but it’s different. We’re not together. We’ve only had fragments. Mathew is selfish too, but at least he’s honest about it. He’s never promised me anything. Our age and living so far apart made it impossible for a real romance to develop. Whenever I was with him, I wished that it could be different. I wished it this last time too; I didn’t want to come home. It’s probably your and Dad’s fault I’m a failure at love, moving me away like you did,” I said with a pout.

  “That, missy, is a crock of shit,” she said.

  I laughed.

  “Spending time with Mathew made me take a hard look at things between Max and me; sex for one. With Mathew, the sex is incredible. He can look at me and get me started, and his kiss, it sends me to the moon. With Max anymore, sex doesn’t feel special, magical; it’s almost ho-hum, get it over with, especially on his end.”

  Our sex life had definitely deteriorated. Max didn’t seem so willing to initiate and when I did many times he was “too tired”. I felt like an old married couple without the ring.

  “Well, that’s not a good sign,” she said, frowning at me.

  “Can it stay good, Mom? Please tell me it can,” I pleaded.

  “Love or sex?” she asked.

  “Both,” I said.

  “It changes. Sometimes it can be intense, magical like you said, and other times it can be very calm, maybe comforting,” she said.

  “Love or sex?” I teased.

  “Both,” she laughed, “both.”

  “Mom, I want to feel love. I want someone who feels it with me. Is that asking too much? I feel like I must lack something, that I can’t truly love or be loved, to make it last,” I said.

  “You just haven’t found the right one. I like Max, but I don’t think he’s the one for you. Mathew, as intense as you say your feelings are, I think you two run too hot. If you were together all the time, you would burn out,” she said.

  “I wish we lived close enough to try,” I said. “Especially the sex part.”

  “Quit it,” she said, slightly embarrassed at my comment.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  We finished off one bottle of wine before dinner was ready. Pat was out with friends, and Dad was in his office. He came out briefly for dinner before he retreated back to his computer. We talked about Pat’s latest news. He’d decided he was going to move to Park City, Utah, and be a ski bum for a winter or two. He’d lined up a job at a ski shop through a connection of Dad’s and would be headed out around Thanksgiving. In a way, I was jealous that he was such a free spirit to risk a new place.

  “Liz and I are planning a trip in January to go visit Pat and ski,” I said.

  “The boys going?” she asked, referring to Max and Dave.

  “They weren’t invited,” I said authoritatively.

  Max and Dave had been best friends since high school. Dave went off to college in Arizona where he’d met Liz. Max had stayed in Escondido and gone the junior collage route before he’d apprenticed as an electrician, while he worked toward starting his own company. When Dave graduated, he brought Liz home with him. From the minute I met her, I liked her. She had a sassy personality that jived with mine, and it hadn’t taken us long to become good friends. Liz and I hung out together and then commiserated when the boys had nights out without us.

  She had recently found her own place at the beach in Del Mar, so I spent a lot of time there. Near the beach there were plenty of places for us to go and whenever we went out together, we got noticed. Where I was tall with blond, thick, wavy hair, she was petite with blond, long, thick, straight hair. We both had blue eyes. Liz was pretty, and she had a knockout body with big boobs. Mom called us Mutt and Jeff. She’d tried to explain what that meant once, and I still wasn’t sure I understood it, something about friends being so different. Apparently Mutt and Jeff was an old comic strip, but I didn’t see the relevance.

  “That should be fun. I’m sure Pat will show you two a good time,” she said.

  “Mom, I’m so glad I can talk to you. I know sometimes it’s not easy, hearing about your daughter’s foolishness,” I said.

  “Hey, we all have to grow up, even my baby girl. I’m just glad you feel comfortable talking to me,” she said, clearing the dishes.

  I got up and hugged her. I realized she had always been there for me, even when I hadn’t thought so.

  Chapter 5

  The ski trip couldn’t come fast enough for either Liz or me. We were both ready for a break from the boys. Liz and I had been pretty wild teenagers. We’d done a lot of playing and partying by the time we met Max and Dave. In a way, the two of them had calmed the two of us down a few degrees. In the weeks leading up to our trip we were both feeling the need to bust out, to be reckless and wild, “be bad” as Liz liked to say. We knew we would be far enough away that nothing would ever get back to them. We planned on having ourselves a good time.

  Pat picked us up at the airport in Salt Lake.

  “Hey, Liz,” he said, grabbing her up while Liz wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

  “Sis,” he said, giving me a hug next.

  “Cute little brother,” I said through my teeth, holding him.

  Little brother was a joke as Pat towered over Liz and me
. He was about six two with a great build. His hair was curly and light brown in color, his eyes blue. He was very popular with the ladies. When he released me, I pulled my jacket tighter around my neck.

  “Chilly,” I said.

  “Ain’t in San Diego anymore, Morgan, get used to it,” he laughed as he loaded our luggage, and we scrambled into his car.

  “So what’s the plan?” Liz asked.

  “It’s up to you two. We can go back to the house, or we can go straight to Main Street in Park City and go to a club,” Pat offered.

  “I need a bar, not a club,” Liz said.

  “It is a bar; they call them private clubs in Utah. There are some stupid laws here when it comes to drinking. We learn to get around them,” Pat said flippantly.

  “Straight to the club then,” I ordered.

  Park City was originally a mining town, and Main Street was lined with buildings like an old western town. The fronts were different colors and there was no space between them except for the street breaks. The light spilling out of the buildings onto the narrow street made it feel warm even with all the snow.

  Pat took us to a place called The Club, a two-story wood-sided building with a balcony that ran the length of the upper floor. I figured in the summer that would be an awesome place to sit and view Main Street. The entrance was tucked under the balcony and consisted of two old-fashioned storefront glass windows with a green door in the middle. The place had been a gambling joint and whorehouse in the old days. On the drive over, Pat had explained that club membership rules were a way to get around the laws. That’s why bars were called clubs versus bars. As a private club with members, different rules applied.

  “Hey, Jim,” Pat said to the doorman. “These girls are on my membership.”

  “Good deal,” Jim said not moving from his wooden stool.

  “What does that mean?” I whispered.

  “I am a member so I’m bringing you in on my membership.”

  “Kind of silly,” Liz said.