10 Ways to Steal Your Lover Read online

  The utter ridiculousness of the situation finally sank in, tickling at her throat. Worse, when she looked up at Kane, the big rancher who usually moved like a well-oiled machine, he was balancing like a cat trying to walk on two high-wires above her. Her lips twitched, the tickling now an almost hysterical itch.

  Kane’s brow suddenly furrowed, no doubt reading her mind with that almost eerie knack he had, a scowl darkening his handsome face. “Don’t you dare laugh, Delilah Anne.”

  “Of course not,” she managed, a giggle messing up her attempt to be serious. But really, Kane was the only one on earth who used her full name and every time he did he was trying to tell her what to do. How could she possibly take him seriously like this? Just like that, the giggle turned into a snort, which only made him scowl more and by then she’d lost it completely. He looked so determined and worried about squashing her but he hadn’t given a thought to what he might be doing to her spleen when he’d been ramming her like jack hammer a few scant minutes ago.

  That thought got her cracking up harder.

  “Del, come on, this isn’t a laughing matter.”

  She whooped, her hands landing on his shoulders while she tried to breathe. He rolled his eyes, but she could see the corners of his lips pulling upward. Ah, the smile… She loved his smile. Always had, especially once she knew how rare they were. Just getting the corners of his mouth to curl was a triumph in her book and it had been so long since she’d earned one. Even better, this smile hinted at the straight white teeth he always seemed to hide. As far as she knew, she was one of only a few to have even seen them.

  Kane was an exceptionally handsome man, yes, but most people were put off by his stern disposition. His ranch kept him busier than anyone she knew, but he managed to find time every few months to visit them in Vegas for dinner and a little time out with the boys, as Craig called it. Craig, Kane and Jesse, three friends who’d met at summer camp when they were thirteen and maintained their friendship against all odds into adulthood. She couldn’t imagine three men more different—Craig the slick city banker, Kane the rugged rancher and Jesse the wild musician—but she had to admit, when they were together, she’d never seen more devoted friends.

  Through ups and downs, they’d stayed in touch with phone calls and letters, leading eventually to emails and texts and they never went more than three months without seeing one another.

  At least, not until she’d come into their lives.

  Finally, that sobered her.

  Jesse always managed a trip, but after she moved in with Craig, Kane’s visits became more spaced. He blamed it on the ranch’s expansions, but Delilah knew it was her. Knew because she’d felt his eyes on her. Felt his desire like a caress, no matter that he never said a word or made the slightest move on her. If anything, the last year he gave her such a wide berth it was almost a joke. Finally, he stopped coming altogether, until Craig insisted he come for the wedding preparations. He hadn’t taken no for an answer.

  And now, here she was, underneath the body of the wrong man.

  But if he was wrong, why did he feel so damn right?

  Delilah stroked her hands up the column of his neck to cup his jaw, her fingertips grazing the ends of his golden brown hair. “How much of last night do you remember?”

  Definite guilt crossed his features, the moss green darkening. “Not enough.”

  “So you don’t know how we got here either?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not even sure where the hell here is.”

  That would be easy enough to figure out, once they got up out of the closet. She wasn’t in a very big rush to do that, though. She looked at her hands on his face, at the rings on her hand.

  Not Craig’s rings.

  Kane’s. Somehow she knew they were Kane’s rings.

  The wedding… She knew she’d been to a wedding. Under a canopy of stars in a small gazebo… The rest was blurs, moving too fast to pick out the details. Loud noises, bright lights… She couldn’t draw out more than that. Except for a bizarre clinking noise and her own shrieks of glee. Why would she be shrieking?

  “Uh, Del, have you ever been to the Crown Palace Casino?”

  “What?” She frowned up at him. “You mean as in stayed there?” There wasn’t much point. Craig had a house in Seven Hills and honestly, she didn’t hit the strip very often. The glitter and gloss never held much appeal.

  “So, you’ve never won a jackpot from there?”

  That made her snort. Craig loved to point out that she had the worst luck of anyone he’d ever seen. She’d never even won a scratcher. “Why?”

  Nodding his head toward the upper left, Delilah tilted her face upward, her eyes widening as she spied two large bags with the Palace’s iconic crown insignia and name emblazoned across them. Each bag was full to falling over with stacks of money.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed, then stared back at Kane. “What the hell did we do last night?”

  Ever the stoic, rational thinking man who often drove her nuts, he didn’t panic or jump up and down or anything anyone else who must have robbed a casino would do. He just sighed and said, “No clue, but we better get started finding out.”

  ***

  “Oh my God, that’s a lot of money.”

  “Uh-huh.” Granted, not his most brilliant response, but in his defense, Kane decided, no one could blame him for sounding like a complete idiot right then. She’d arched her back to look at the money bags in front of them and now the most magnificent breasts ever formed were peeking at him over the edge of a rumpled white bed sheet.

  The fine cotton might have a silken shine, but it had nothing on the perfect cream of Delilah’s skin. The soft pink tips were the cherries on top as far as he was concerned, each one just begging for the sucking kisses he hadn’t been able to give back in the bedroom. His mouth watered just looking at them.

  Arched as she was, with her firm, bare thighs on either side of his hips and only the sheet between them, the result was instantaneous—blood abandoned his brain like the traitor it was. Completely without permission, his cock nestled into the cloth-covered folds, reveling in being so close to heaven that he could feel the soft notch of her and already imagine sinking back into her hot, gripping flesh. Memories of how wet, how molded, she’d felt around him, and he’d had to bite back a groan along with the urge to flip the sheet out of the way and remind her, too. Thank God he had the presence of mind left not to drool because her chin came back down and she pinioned him with an accusing glare as her breasts slipped back into the shadowed cover of the sheet.

  “What were you looking at?”

  It took all his control not to grin at her suspicious snarl. “What makes you think I was looking at something?”

  Her brow rose. “Because I’m pretty sure you don’t walk around with a steel pipe in your pants on a regular basis.”

  He did around her. His sex drive was a vicious, unfettered animal where she was concerned. Which was why he didn’t visit as much as he used to. Distracted with work or not, Craig was bound to notice and if there was one thing Kane had never been, it was the kind of man who made a move on his best friend’s girl.

  Except, he realized with a sinking feeling, that seemed to be exactly what he’d done.

  He rolled off Delilah as fast as he could, flopping on his back next to her, already digging the balls of his hands into his eyes. Hard as he tried, nothing from the night before came into clear focus. Just flashes of people, feelings and things he didn’t recognize. An angry man, a blaring red and blue light, looking up at a crapload of stars, a half-empty glass of champagne… Over and over again, in between those blurred memories, Delilah, Delilah, Delilah. Smiling, laughing, moaning, even crying but somehow still looking happy; hell if he remembered why, though.

  Cool material whispered over his waist. He looked down to find the sheet now draping his cock so that it looked like the center of a Big Top Circus. Damn thing had zero sense of self-preservation. Or shame.

&nb
sp; “Sorry,” Delilah mumbled, smoothing her end of the sheet higher on her chest. “There just wasn’t any way I was going to be able to have a serious conversation with…that distracting me.”

  Because covering it made it so much less noticeable… “Well, I know a place I could—”

  Her hand clapped over his mouth, her body curving into his side, the gentle weight of those breasts on his arm. Sheet or no sheet, that was a fabulous feeling. Even better, it wasn’t reproach he saw on her face but genuine mirth only slightly touched by regret.

  Wait, was that good or not?

  “If we’re going to get figure out what happened to us, we’re going to have to set some ground rules.”

  He pressed a kiss to her palm, his tongue taking the smallest taste of her before she snatched her hand away. She scowled, smacking him square in the chest as punishment. “How on earth did I ever think you were the stern one?”

  Because he was. Usually.

  Craig was the playboy and Jesse was the dreamer. Someone had to keep them all grounded. Who better than the guy so rooted to his land and his history that he never had a dream beyond the boundaries of what he knew and owned.

  Except for her…

  But why would she ever want to hear that from him? She had Craig. Being stern and grounded hadn’t done shit for him where she was concerned because he’d fallen for her the first time they’d met. The last three years had been a special kind of hell for him, wanting her more with every new facet he learned about her. Aching for her to acknowledge that there was something powerful between them, something that had her cheeks turning that soft shade of pink whenever their eyes met.

  Something that had her all but running from him these last months leading up to the wedding.

  No, she wouldn’t want him to bring any of that up. Not when she had her mind set on another man. Another man he normally wouldn’t wrong if his life depended on it.

  So what the hell had happened last night to change that?

  Her warm hand had remained on his chest where it landed, rubbing in soothing strokes as if she could hear the thoughts going through his mind. If she could, why couldn’t she tell that the heart beneath her touch was thudding so desperately for her?

  It skipped a beat suddenly, a thought becoming clear.

  What if she didn’t want another man?

  She’d just been in bed with him, mindlessly screaming his name. That didn’t seem like a woman desperate to get back to someone else. Not even the guy she’d been about to marry. It seemed like a woman finally right where she wanted to be. Possibly with no plans to leave anytime soon.

  He bit back the urge to grin like a smug idiot.

  It wasn’t too easy to do until he remembered that neither of them had a clue how it had happened. That fact killed the smugness dead. What if the blank spots in their memory came from a drunken binge of some kind? He’d never had one before, but there was a first time for everything. Maybe it had been a first time for Delilah too?

  However it went, one thing was clear. They were both sober now but the chemistry between them sizzled hotter than ever. He might be clueless about a lot of things, but not even he could miss that particular truth. He could feel her like a hum of need, her softness melding to his side and yet, somehow, her laughter warmed something deep in his chest. This was how they should have always been. Maybe how they could have been, if he’d met her first. But he hadn’t and they had never allowed themselves more than a few stolen moments when they’d forget themselves and what they were supposed to be to each other. A joke no one else understood, a whispered remark no one else ever heard. A touch no one else could have given… Just good friends, connected only by the man they both cared so much about.

  This moment was more stolen than any of those others put together.

  It only made him hungrier for more.

  If ever he had a chance with her, to show her how he felt, this was it. The only opportunity he might ever get to be with the woman who owned him body and soul.

  Put like that, not even guilt could stop him from taking it.

  He slid his hand over hers, blinking at the feel of warm metal and cool gemstone. Lifting his head, he picked up her hand, turning it so the solitaire and two gold bands caught the light, glittering at him in familiar, fiery glints. He picked up his own left hand, recognizing the heavy gold band on his ring finger just as easily.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, still staring at their hands. It wasn’t a lie. In fact, this was so right he thought his chest might just burst. “These are my grandparents’ wedding rings.”

  When she would have pulled away, he twined their fingers together.

  “Kane—”

  “Shhh, just let me savor this for a minute.”

  “Savor what? Being naked in a closet with your best friend’s fiancée and no idea how you got there?”

  He shook his head, swallowing carefully before meeting her gaze as steadily as he could. Especially since he’d never said more important words in his life. “Being married to the woman I love.”

  Chapter Three

  Hear that drowning noise?

  That’s you, Delilah.

  In over your head.

  Again.

  The Colonel’s gruff voice in her head was never a good thing. But, like most parents’ voices, Delilah couldn’t quite seem to kick it out. And it always showed up when she had to choose between doing what her parents considered the right thing or what her heart said was the right thing for her.

  Unfortunately, between her mother’s perfectionism and her father’s disapproval, there hadn’t been much room for her heart to get a word in edgewise. Every now and then, though, she threw caution to the wind…

  And look where that’s gotten you, The Colonel’s voice pointed out dryly. Bare ass nekkid in a closet with a cowboy who may or may not have married you on your wedding day to someone else. At best, you’re a cheater. At worst, you’re a bigamist. God made caution for a reason, Delilah. Maybe you ought to think about that before you make yourself a bigger bed than you can lie in.

  Not just any cowboy, either. God wasn’t kind enough to teach his lessons with strangers. No, he gave her Kane Wilkensen to learn her lesson with. Someone she would have to see over and over again for the rest of her married life. Assuming Craig a) still wanted to speak to either of them after this and b) still wanted to marry her. She couldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

  Would it make her a heartless bitch if she’d feel a strange kind of relief if he didn’t?

  Craig was a good man. A great man, actually. Handsome, mostly considerate, well-mannered and funny. Other women would smack her over the head to get to him and Delilah knew it. But he’d never once looked at her with his heart in his eyes the way Kane was doing right now.

  The answering twang in her own heart was the last thing she expected in response to that openness, but there it was. Like a groundswell that filed her from her feet to her head, emotions spiraled up that she couldn’t quite name. But the urge to say the words she’d had so much trouble saying to Craig was suddenly so strong, they were all but spilling off her lips without a thought or a qualm.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to catch herself from something she was going to regret—she’d regret it, right?—because they both jumped as the silence rent beneath the obnoxious tune of a cell phone.

  Her cell phone.

  “Oh, my God, it’s my Mother!” She jumped up, yanking the sheet with her, barely catching herself from turning to look back when he groaned miserably. Not a good idea to look at him naked again. Her cheeks flushed and stung at the memory of him imprinted on her body. And he looked almost as good as he felt.

  “You set “The Macarena” as the ringtone for your Mom?”

  Still trying to get the sheet around herself as she searched the floor of the hotel room—no, suite, she realized when the open bedroom door far across from the closet led to a living room of some kind—without any luck
. “It’s so I can blame the song for why I wince when it rings.”

  “That’s…sweet.”

  Delilah jumped half out of her skin when Kane’s voice was suddenly a warm tone just behind her ear. She spun, gasping, only to find him zipping up his pants.

  Tuxedo pants. God, the tuxedo from her wedding. She just kept herself from smacking her forehead as hard as she could.

  He smiled, those pretty eyes of his fixed on her face. “Found ‘em on the floor. Since you said you wouldn’t be able to think—”

  “Gotcha.” Boy, did she. For better or worse, apparently. “Do you see—”

  He looked around, suddenly striding to the foot of the bed where the blankets and a mass of white fabric puddled together on the floor. The pink metal edge of her phone just barely visible to her now that he’d reached for it, he made quick work of getting it to her. Not really sure if she was relieved, Delilah took the device and slid her thumb over the smooth surface to accept the cal. “Mom?”

  “Oh, thank God, you finally answered!” Dinah McGavin’s relief settled like a rock in Delilah’s bely. “I’ve been calling you all night! Are you okay, where are you?”

  “Uh…” Delilah looked around the room, but there were no blatant signs that told her the hotel name. The only clue she had was the bags in the closet, but she couldn’t be sure they came from the hotel she was in.

  She looked to Kane, but he was busy at the nightstand next to the huge bed. Her eyes caught on the broad expanse of his back, the way the black slacks cloaked those lean hips and somehow made his long legs seem even longer. Her eyes traced the smooth indent of his spine, her lips curling at how much she wanted to press them to the small of his back. Golden skin, sun kissed and tempting, and all that delicious muscle...had she kissed it all last night? It was a secret fantasy of hers, one she didn’t even like to admit to herself usually. But on the nights when she was alone, when her body ached and she had nothing but her own hand to satisfy her, it was never Craig whose body she envisioned tangled with hers. The last few years, it was a shadowy man who fit every guilty pleasure she’d had in a lover. Someone tall, lean but somehow still powerful. A man whose scruffy jaw tickled her skin as he kissed her throat, suckled her breasts, feasted on her sex. Hands that were roughened by work but gentle in touch. Someone aggressive, but never frightening. Overwhelming, but putty in her hands.