Cowboy in Wolf's Clothing

by Kait Ballenger

  She discarded the bloodied gauze in the fire and reached for a fresh piece and the adhesive, careful to be gentle as she covered the tender skin. “It is. I think it will make me happy. There was a time when I loved it.” When her bare fingertips touched him without the guard of the gauze, he tensed. She cocked her head to the side slightly as her hand lingered against his bare flesh. She was still kneeling between his thighs. “Does it hurt when I touch you there?”

  “No, Belle.” His words were a near purr. “That was a different kind of growl.”

  “I…” She started to speak, then paused.

  As they lingered there, the tension between them heightened. A steady thrumming ache built in his cock, heady and visceral. He needed to take care of this once and for all, stop this madness before it got out of hand. One night. That was all it would take. Then this hunger would be tamed and he could go back to focusing on his work. She cleared her throat, but he caught the scent of desire on her. He knew it was there without a doubt.

  “You never answered, Belle. Do you agree to my terms?”

  “I don’t see I have much of a choice.”

  “Do we have ourselves a deal then?”

  She released a weighted sigh. “I think we do.”

  “Good,” he said. “That leaves us time to discuss another negotiation.”

  She raised a brow, pushed herself to standing, and crossed the clearing to return the spare adhesive and gauze to his saddlebag. “And what would that be?”

  As she faced toward him again, a wicked grin crossed his lips. “The night we’re going to spend together.”

  Chapter 6

  “Excuse me?”

  He’d surprised her when he’d let slip that he wanted to protect her. Help her. But…Belle couldn’t have heard him correctly, could she?

  “I want to make it clear that our prior agreements still stand, and they have no relation to your decision. Regardless of my position, you have a choice, of course.”

  Maybe she had heard him correctly. He couldn’t possibly be serious. She gaped at him. Yes, there was heat between them. Tension. She sensed it, too. But she wasn’t about to admit that. Definitely not to him. She couldn’t risk another relationship with an alpha wolf—no matter how attractive and brave he might be, or how tempting the offer. No matter how much she wanted to see that softer side of him again.

  No. She needed to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand.

  She settled on being saucy. It worked with him, and that seemed to be the only way they could converse without her simultaneously wanting to pull her hair out and feeling weak in the knees whenever he looked at her. “Do you often try to piss off women who saved your life?”

  “Only when I’ve already seen them naked.”

  She knew he was teasing, but still she forced a snarl.

  Those intense gray eyes locked onto her, causing her stomach to fill with traitorous butterflies. “Is that what I do you to, Belle? Piss you off?”

  The question was so to-the-point that it caught her off guard. She wasn’t certain she could define how he made her feel. Yes, there was frustration, but there was also something…more. Something complicated.

  At her lack of response, he smirked. “I didn’t think so.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “Only that you wear your emotions on your sleeve. You can glare and pucker those full pink lips at me like you’ve tasted something sour all you want, Belle, but your eyes give you away.”

  She raised a brow. “Oh really? And what do they say?”

  His gaze locked with hers. “They say that our verbal sparring doesn’t really piss you off at all. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you not only like it, you crave it.”

  She laughed. “That’s absurd. I barely know you.”

  “You don’t need to know someone to be attracted to them.”

  “Me? Attracted to you?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not a chance.”

  “You enjoyed when I held you naked against me—in the clearing.” He said it with such utter confidence, as if he knew it without a doubt. “You can’t deny that.”

  She could, and she would for that matter, even if it wasn’t true. “Don’t flatter yourself, Colt.”

  He chuckled darkly, pushing from where he sat on the log to stand. At his full height, he was all the more intimidating, towering over her. “I don’t need flattery. Most women find me attractive. It’s a matter of fact. Some are better at hiding it than others.” Those steely eyes fell to her. “But you’re not one of those women, Belle. You can’t hide your emotions, even when you try.”

  She was hiding more from him than he’d ever know. “I’m not like most women.”

  “No, you’re not,” he agreed. Colt’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to the fire, staring into its depths. The flames burned bright, casting a dim orange glow on his face and creating shadows that hollowed the sharp lines of his cheekbones. “Most women bat their eyelashes, smile, and giggle when they find a man attractive. You, on the other hand, do the opposite. You narrow those pretty hazel eyes, pucker that little mouth, and let that viper-tongued wit fly, but it’s a defense mechanism. I’m a commander, Belle.” His gaze flicked toward her. “I know a defense tactic when I see one.”

  “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “I know a challenge when I see one, and you work hard to be a challenge, Belle. But if the look in your wolf eyes is any indication, you may be a challenge, but you’re not as difficult to solve as you think. Not for me.”

  She scoffed at him. “You’re not my type at all.”

  It wasn’t true. Not in the slightest. But she needed to try to keep him at arm’s length. Her experiences with Wyatt had taught her that. It didn’t matter that she wanted otherwise. Before Colt, Belle hadn’t been certain she had a type, but with each passing second, she became more certain that if there were a reference book of her life, under “Belle’s type,” Colt Cavanaugh’s picture would be the definition. See synonyms for reference: worst fear, here comes trouble, and The Devil Wears a Cowboy Hat.

  There was that wolfish grin again. He saw straight through her. “Could have fooled me.” He turned away from the fire and drew closer. “I saw your desire in the clearing, felt the way you melted into my arms.”

  Her hands clenched into fists. She was quickly losing this battle. “I was faking it.”

  He shook his head, that grin still curving his lips in the slightest tilt as he prowled toward her. “You’re lying.”

  He stood in front of her now, less than a foot away. She retreated until her spine pushed flush against one of the mighty pines behind her. The width and breadth of his shoulders dwarfed her, but still she fought to regain control. This was no more than one of his power plays.

  “Then prove it.” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

  Those metal-gray eyes burned a molten liquid steel. “There are two things you need to know about me, Belle. The first is that I hate to be defied. As a commander, I’m more than used to getting my way. In fact, I damn well expect it. The second is that I never back down from a challenge”—his next words were a near growl—“because I always win.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do your worst, Commander.”

  Something sparked in his eyes, and within seconds, he was on top of her, caging her between the hard muscles of his body and the bumpy bark of the tree. He clasped his hands overtop hers, pinning them above her head as he leaned in. His lips were so near, they brushed against hers as they spoke in a series of fluttering caresses, so hot and brazen, she could hardly breathe.

  “I don’t think you realize what kind of fire you’re playing with, sweetheart,” he purred.

  “I think I know exactly what I’m doing,” she challenged. Unwittingly, her tongu
e darted out to wet her lips, and slowly, his gaze fell there. Belle’s breath caught, and she felt the anticipation building in her chest. His mouth was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her chin. Her pulse quickened, and a slick wave of heat blossomed between her legs.

  His eyes flashed gold. His lips were on hers then, taking hold in a kiss that could only be described as a claiming. It was a delicious, dangerous declaration of war…and she couldn’t get enough. He laid siege upon her mouth, kneading until her bottom lip was caught between his teeth. He sucked on the gentle flesh—hard. She gasped, surging forward into his arms. He seized the brief opening of her mouth to his advantage, expertly parting the seam of her lips until she opened completely for him, the taste of him filling her mouth. He tasted of dark spices and male.

  The scruff of his beard brushed and teased against the sensitive skin of her cheeks as their tongues clashed in a hot, fevered dance. As he took full advantage of his conquest, his hands explored, doing unimaginable, ungentlemanly things as he cupped the bulk of her ass in one hand and fisted the locks of her hair in the other.

  She wasn’t a small woman, but he leveraged her weight with ease. Pulling her toward him, he used his knee to nudge her legs open, and then he pressed her against him. The hard, long length of his cock strained against his jeans and pushed between her thighs, finding her center and grinding against it in a tantalizing caress. The sensation, coupled with the onslaught of his kiss, made her shudder. And before she could form a coherent thought and realize that he’d won their battle, she waved the white flag of surrender…and moaned.

  Abruptly, he released her. A satisfied smirk curled on his lips as he stepped back from the tree and surveyed his work. She knew what she must look like with plump, freshly kissed lips, hardened nipples, and legs splayed wide in need.

  He had won. They both knew it from the look of satisfaction in his eyes and the uncontrollable desire making her heart race. He had made his point.

  Still, she tried to fight it, tried to push him away to protect herself, even though she wanted him to draw nearer. She straightened, closing her thighs and brushing herself off as if the kiss had done nothing, meant nothing to her. “See. Not affected at all.”

  His grin was near sinister and so sexy, it hurt. “Whether you like it or not, you blossom for me, Belle. There’s something between us, and you know it.” His eyes fell to the hardened peaks of her nipples, and he grinned. Not the award-winning smile she’d been wanting, but a gorgeous, white-toothed grin nonetheless, and she decided then that she hated the pure temptation that was Colt Cavanaugh. Everything about him made her want to go against the promises she’d made herself, the things she’d never do again. Everything from that hardened-warrior exterior to the softness she knew lay underneath. The bravery, the courage, the charm. Every last smug, arrogant gorgeous inch of his being.

  Yes, even those inches…

  She pushed past him to stand beside the fire and stare into its depths. She couldn’t get involved with another alpha wolf, especially one who held so much power over her. He may have saved her life, but she’d sworn she wouldn’t place herself in such a vulnerable position again. There was no excuse for the way she’d reacted to him in the clearing or now. She should know better than that. He had kissed her to prove a point. It was a power play. Everything was with him. Nothing more.

  She gazed into the flames, trying to convince herself that was true, that it was nothing but lust between them, but she couldn’t. Contrary to the image he projected, he was merciful, caring. He could have taken her captive without offering her a deal and forced her to testify to the Seven Range Pact, but he hadn’t. He was trying to help her.

  “I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you,” he finally said, breaking the silence between them.

  His words forced her to look up. There was unfettered gratitude in his eyes, and her breath stopped short. Almost…kind, the tenderness from him she craved. If he kept that up, he’d have her hook, line, and sinker.

  Immediately, she tried to push him away. She couldn’t get further entangled with this cowboy. She couldn’t. “You don’t fool me, Colt. You can try to warm me to you all you want, but I know your reputation. You bed women like it’s sport. One night and done, and you never call in the morning. So those smoldering eyes won’t work on me.” She’d heard the rumors from the Wild Eight females. Normally, she didn’t put stock in such things, but in this case, it was all the more reason not to trust her feelings toward him.

  When she did venture into a relationship again, she wanted passion, tenderness, caring. Not a one-night stand that would lead nowhere.

  She crossed to his horse, which had taken to moping and looking rather neglected with all this talk and none about him. She reached into the saddlebag and removed the apple Colt had offered earlier. When she extended it toward the beast, the horse happily bit into the juicy skin of the green Granny Smith.

  “Traitor,” Colt grumbled at Silver. He glanced back toward Belle. “Would you be so judgmental of my sexual history if I were a woman?” he asked.

  As she finished feeding Silver the apple, she cast a glance toward him. “What do you mean?”

  “It means that I think your problem has less to do with the number of partners I’ve slept with and more with the fact that I don’t call them in the morning.”

  Call her old-fashioned, but she struggled to see what was wrong with that. “How horrible of me. How dare women expect men to care about them, to at least consider a relationship.”

  “I make my expectations known from the start, and the women I’m with agree to those terms. It’s not my fault if they think they can change me. I’m very clear from the beginning. I don’t do relationships. In my position, they’re a liability I can’t afford.”

  Relationships as a liability? she thought. What a miserable existence.

  “So that would be your terms?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  That one word held such a dark, sinful promise that her nipples tightened and her breasts grew heavy with need. She fought to keep her voice level. “I’m not even your type.”

  A man like him would be interested in leggy blonds or, at the very least, alpha females, Grey Wolf women worthy of his station. Not a dark-haired Rogue with ties to the Wild Eight who fought to tame the flyaways of her curls every morning and whose figure could be at least ten pounds trimmer. Belle had her positive attributes, but she’d never counted her looks as one of them. She was smart as a whip and a helluva surgeon to boot. But in her experience, it was not brainy, bookish, and busty who was the belle of the ball. It was tall, leggy, smiling, pretty, and amiable. Decidedly not… What was it he’d called her? Viper-tongued.

  “I think I’ll be the judge of that. Change can be refreshing,” he answered.

  His reassurance did little to abate her thoughts.

  “So do we have ourselves an agreement, Belle? One night together? That’s all I can offer you, but I think you know as well as I do that it would be good between us.” He paused. “Better than good.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t agree to that.”

  No matter how tempting the offer…

  “A shame.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. The fire had burned down to little more than embers, and he used his boot to stomp out the remaining few. “We need to keep moving. We’ve lingered here long enough, and I need to return to my work.” He crossed to where she stood beside Silver and placed his foot in the stirrup.

  “That’s it?” She gaped at him. “You ask me to spend one wild, hot night with you, and then we drop the topic suddenly, as if it’s nothing?”

  Colt swung up into the saddle. “No means no, sweetheart. You may think I’m an arrogant rake, but even I know there are lines that cannot and should not be crossed.” He extended a hand down toward her. “But if you change your mind…”

  “You�
�ll be the first to know.” She took his hand, placing her foot in the stirrup and climbing into the saddle in front of him.

  They rode for another hour in silence. Ever since their conversation in the clearing, there had been a subtle tension between them. In Belle’s mind, that tension worsened with each passing minute as they drew closer to the Missoula Grey Wolf territory.

  Keep your eye on the prize, Belle. When all this is over, you’ll have your freedom. True freedom.

  When Colt pulled back on Silver’s reins, Belle knew they were close. Silver slowed to a halt, and Colt quickly dismounted. Belle’s wolf smelled and sensed the nearness of the pack. Awareness prickled through her, raising the fine hairs across her arms and down the nape of her neck.

  “Do you remember the rules?” he asked.

  After she dismounted, she gave a nod.

  “Good.” He must have sensed her unease, because he gave her a pointed look. “Your guards will be my most trusted soldiers, Belle. You may be our enemy, but you’re no monster like your packmembers, and as commander, I have little tolerance for violence against women. You’ll receive no ill treatment. I promise you.”

  “I’m trusting you’re a man of your word, Colt.”

  “Your trust isn’t misplaced, sweetheart.” He tipped his hat toward her. “Showtime.”

  Belle’s stomach clenched.

  Colt took another step forward, crossing an invisible boundary line, then threw back his head and released a long, echoing howl.

  A moment later, a chorus of responses echoed back. The howls that emanated throughout the forest were ones of relief and elation at his return. Belle felt a lump form in her throat as the continuing howls drew nearer. What she wouldn’t give to have a pack that cared for her like that, that presented her with unending loyalty and love.

  But that had been her mistake, thinking that a Rogue like her could have those things. The Wild Eight had taught her that. The life of a pack wolf, at least a pack the likes of the Grey Wolves, wasn’t for a Rogue like her, and it never would be.