by Gorman, A.
The man above Jarrod went slack. Jarrod pushed him off, and the man flopped onto his back, unconscious or dead, she didn’t know which.
Jarrod’s nostrils flared as he looked up at her. In a lithe move, he was on his feet. His arms clamped around her and pulled her close, burying his nose in her hair. The shovel clattered to the floor. Peace settled deep within her.
He took her lips with a desperate passion. Abby clung to him, unable to let him go. She could’ve lost him tonight. Not just to a cell, but in life. Her whole being had been rocked, and her body shook at the realization. A life without Jarrod…she couldn’t begin to comprehend.
Letting her lips go, Jarrod drew a deep breath into his lungs. She wet her lips, feeling his possession, and sagged into him. Abby pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart hammered beneath her ear, comforting her with the knowledge he was still alive.
“I thought you were d-dead. They said they k-killed you.” She could hardly push the words out, her mind protesting the possibility.
Jarrod gave her a tight squeeze. “Nothing will keep me from you. Least of all a couple of nasty thugs. We need to call Harley.”
Abby nodded and stepped back, her legs wobbling. Jarrod’s arm dropped to his side, but his gaze scorched her as it did a slow once over.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
His jaw clenched as he took in the two men laying on the stable floor.
“I better ensure they aren’t going anywhere.” Taking a coil of rope down from a nail in the tack room, Jarrod secured the first man to a post, then dragged the second closer so he could do the same with him.
As he dealt with the men, Abby returned Thunder to his stall and indulged in a cuddle, patting the horse’s nose. He, like his owner, had saved her life. She owed him an apple every day.
After testing out the binds, Jarrod held out his hand to her. She greedily took it. What would happen next? Where would they go from there? If these men had killed Hank, did this mean she was free? Abby didn’t dare to believe.
Jarrod led her out of the stable. “Shouldn’t one of us stay with them?”
“I don’t want them anywhere near you.” His body tensed beside her. “Besides, they’re not going anywhere.”
They walked back to the house in silence. Abby frowned. What was going on inside his head?
She wet her lips nervously. “I’m sorry I brought all this to your doorstep. They could’ve killed you. All because of me.”
Stopping, he turned her to face him. His calloused hands cupped her face, and his gaze burned into hers.
“Don’t. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”
“You’ve always been there, Jarrod. No matter what.”
He pressed his lips against hers. One second and then they were gone. She ached for more.
“Keep remembering that.”
Like the night before, he pushed her in the direction of the shower. On unsteady legs, she made the short distance and, with an equally quaking hand, turned on the shower. The morning seemed to be catching up with her, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. She swiped at one, then another before she couldn’t keep up. Steam filled the small cubicle. Stripping, Abby stumbled beneath the spray and allowed the heat to wash away the horrid events and the fear she’d held for Jarrod from the moment she’d been abruptly woken.
Nothing had compared to that feeling. She’d been hollow, desolate. She drew in a shaky breath and flattened her palms against the tiles.
The screen door slammed, and she jumped, barely managing not to slip on the tiles. A low murmur of men’s voices reached beneath the spray. Harley. Abby hopped out and, after blotting herself with a towel, redressed in Jarrod’s shirt. She would’ve preferred a clean one, one which didn’t hold such memories, but she wanted to face Harley and get the next few minutes over with.
Joining the two men in the kitchen, Abby’s gaze settled on Jarrod, drawing strength from him before focusing on Harley, decked out in his uniform.
His warm gaze found hers, and he smiled. “Hey, Abby.”
“Harley.”
Without conscious thought, she found herself next to Jarrod, leaning into him for support. She could always count on him.
Jarrod drew her closer, into his arms, and peace settled deep within. Jarrod’s lips pressed against her temple, and she closed her eyes briefly at the depth of emotions swirling inside her. Harley’s gaze bounced between them before taking a long sweep of her body, taking in her attire and disheveled hair.
“I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this, Abby.”
“Caught up in what?”
“Did you know Hank gambled?”
“Yes. Mostly the dogs and horses, but sometimes he was known to bet on football.”
“Well, it appears old Hank wasn’t cutting even. He owed big. His bookie got sick of waiting for the cash.”
A sob escaped her lips. “I don’t know why I’m so upset. Hank was a temperamental bastard. He and I never saw eye to eye, but I’m glad he’ll get justice.”
“Yeah, old Hank ruffled a few feathers. I’m glad at least one good thing came from his death.”
When she gave Harley a blank look, he grinned, then stood.
“You two finally together. Whole damn town’s been wondering when you’d see reason and realize you were meant for each other.” With a nod of his head, he left.
Turning to Jarrod, she found him watching her intently. “You don’t think that’s true, do you?”
“What? Us belonging to one another, or the whole town knowing before us?” One side of his mouth lifted. “It’s always been you, Abby.”
Warmth blossomed inside her, radiating outward.
“You won’t be able to get rid of me.”
He scooped her up, her legs immediately locking around his waist. She pressed against him, and he stole another kiss, heavy on the tongue. That was all it took for her to become ravenous. She took control of the kiss, urging him into action as he picked up speed. Soon they were a jumble of limbs on the bed, tearing fabric in their haste to rid the other of their clothes. Need, sharp and intense unlike anything she’d experienced before, sprang to life. Urgent. Seductive. Unfulfilled.
Jarrod pinned her hands to the mattress above her head. His dark head lowered, and a sweet pressure engulfed her sensitive nipple. She yearned to claw at him, the juncture of her thighs damp and throbbing. Screw foreplay. It wouldn’t take much to catapult her over the edge. Squirming to spur him on, he only tightened his restraining hand and continued to ravish her breast as though he’d gone days since his last meal.
Her back bowed. Raising a leg, she slid it up his to rest on his hip, forcing his cock more intimately against her sex. She groaned. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Abby bit his shoulder. Hard. He jerked back in surprise, yet his eyes were dark obsidian pools, smoky with desire. Taking the opportunity now his attention had been diverted, she pulled from his grasp, spun him onto his back and hooked a leg over his body so she straddled him.
His cock slid between her folds as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her tongue met his in a hungry, savage dance. His taste, now burned into her memory, filled her senses as she drank from him. Her hips wiggled over his impressive length, and she pulled her lips from his.
“Condom. Now!”
His husky voice directed her to the bedside table. A moment later, she tore open the foil packet with her teeth. His dick jumped when she slid the latex over him, her fingers enjoying the task far too much. Not that she blamed them. He was beautiful.
Jarrod caught her hips and repositioned her as she held onto his cock, sliding a fist up and down. His eyes closed in abandon, and a thrill sizzled inside her. Jarrod Bowman, putty in her hands. Usually he was so grounded. Practical. In control. Now she was the one in charge.
She’d never had to pretend to be someone she wasn’t with him. He knew her moods and how to read her. If she was feeling crappy, she didn’t have
to slap on a fake smile.
She was right where she was supposed to be. She was home.
With Jarrod.
Abby impaled herself, her body immediately clamping around his girth—tighter, she imagined, than her fist had been, and his eyes flicked open and his lips parted. She rocked gently at first, experimentally, seeing what he liked. Rocking turned to rolling her hips, his cock throbbing within her. Inner nerve endings sizzled. Demanded more. Jarrod’s jaw clenched. His fingertips dug into her flesh, drawing out a moan.
With her knees as leverage, she pushed up until only the head of his cock teased her channel before plunging back down. Synapses short-circuited. Her thighs quivered as she rose, setting a punishing tempo. Rise. Fall. Lift. Drop. She rode him hard, each downward plummet more difficult than the last, his shaft pushing through the resistance of her eager body, desperate for release.
Her whole essence had become a jumble of nerves. Heat suffused her, licking her skin. Tingles took over.
“Goddamn, Abby. You’re fucking beautiful.” Jarrod’s gaze fastened on her bouncing breasts. He seemed to be particularly interested in her breasts. She cupped them, her thumbs flicking over her nipples as he watched, his gaze intense. Pinching a hard bead with the fingers of one hand, the other slid down her stomach to her soft curls and sought out her clit. Her fingers slipped awkwardly through the slickness before she settled firmly on it. Using two fingers she set them in motion, rotating over her exposed nub, sending sharp sparks of pleasure throughout her body. Her hips bucked at the multiple attack, so primed it almost became too much. Almost.
Jarrod’s gaze was possessive. Everywhere his gaze touched, he seemed to mark as his. She didn’t mind. Being his sounded absolutely perfect.
Abby continued the sensual assault. Nothing else mattered except her completion. She’d never been a hide-behind-the-covers lover, yet at the same time she’d never been this free. This unguarded.
He’d turned her completely wanton. She liked it. His chest rose and fell with each struggling breath. His hips rose as hers fell, until he’d taken over. She didn’t care. Thrusting with deadly accuracy, he buried himself so deep he bumped against her womb, and she keened loudly, her hyper-sensitive body stupidly protesting it was all too much.
Her inner muscles coiled. Sprang. Untwined. She screamed out his name, convulsing on top of him. Flipping her over, he trapped her between him and the mattress and pounded into her, pushing her orgasm higher. Intense. Powerful. Glorious. Without real warning, she was mentally tossed. She had no control. Nothing to ensure a safe landing. Abby embraced it. Allowed the sensations to wash over her, to take her. Careening higher to uncharted heights. Everything went dark.
She blinked. Her eyelids felt heavy. Jarrod stared down at her, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks.
“You okay?”
She stretched, testing her limbs. Everything appeared in working order, though slightly harder to move, each muscle lethargic. Raising her head, she sealed her lips to his in an answer.
He met her, passion for passion, consuming her. Her exhausted body went up in flames, suddenly recuperated. Her leg rubbed against his, the coarse hairs feeding her desire, highlighting the differences in their bodies—a fact she liked well. Her kiss became frenzied, and he pulled back. He drew in a deep breath. His heart pounded hard, the reverberations against her ribs.
“Fuck, woman. You’re going to grind me down to a nub.”
She giggled, then ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. The strands were tousled. Sexy. Like a man who’d been fucked and well. “You’ve got plenty to spare.”
Shaking his head, he laughed softly. “Damn, Abby, what am I going to do with you?”
Abby considered his question seriously. “Never let me go.”
His face changed, realizing she no longer jested. “No chance of that. Don’t you know? I’m freaking in love with you. My brave, wonderful Abby. The woman who’s always held my heart—even before I realized it.”
Her heart thundered, and her breath caught in her throat. His voice had been raw, as though the words had been cut from his still-bleeding heart. She swallowed hard. No man had ever made such a declaration to her. And coming from Jarrod made them all the more important. All the more treasured.
“Jesus, Abby, say something. Don’t leave a man hanging.”
A tear spilled over, trickling down her cheek, only to be captured by his hand still holding her face.
“I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without realizing I love you. But I guess that’s all that matters. I love you, Jarrod.”
Cupping the back of his neck, she brought his lips back to hers and kissed him, this time full of love, happiness, and hope for the future.
He took. He gave. He promised. He was in one word…perfect.
Surprise filled her, knowing now she had everything she could possibly want. Who would have guessed the man of her dreams had been beside her all along?
About the Author
Camille Taylor is an Australian romantic suspense author who lives in the nation’s capital. She spends her time reading, writing, and procrastinating on Pinterest, looking at nail art, books, and cake decorating. A bookworm, she enjoys most genres, particularly romance and mysteries, and chases after HEAs. She started writing at sixteen and is currently working on her Harbour Bay Series set in Australia. Camille is also an incurable genealogist and has traced her heritage to England, Scotland, Ireland, and Russia.
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Blue Jeans and Gemstones
A Bon Chance Boonies Short Story
By A.L. Vincent
Chapter One
Jasper
“So nice to see that you could crawl out of the swamp tonight,” his cousin, Ryder LeBlanc, said, walking up to Jasper. Ryder lit a cigarette and exhaled. He wore a black cowboy hat and leather chaps, and the latest buckle from a rodeo win flashed from his belt.
Jasper and his brothers, Lucien and Julien, had come to watch Ryder ride bulls at the Southern Louisiana Rodeo.
“I wanted to see if you could actually hold on this time for more than a second or two,” Jasper said, grinning and holding his hand out. The hand was ignored as Ryder threw his arms around Jasper in a hug.
“It’s good to see you again, cuz,” Jasper said.
“It’s been awhile. Where are those brothers of yours?”
“They’re here, chasing women. Just like always.”
Ryder grinned. “I don’t chase women. They chase me.”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “That’s never been a problem for LeBlanc men.”
Lucien and Julien came up behind Jasper then. They clapped each other on the back and muttered curses and insults.
“You guys coming to meet me at the Broken Spoke later?” Ryder asked. “I have shots for who can beat me on the mechanical bull.”
The Broken Spoke was a popular nightclub just outside of Lafayette’s city limits. It was a local hotspot. Locals liked to dance to the tunes of popular local musicians. The more adventurous took turns on the mechanical bull.
“I don’t know about that bull business. I’m getting too old for that,” Jasper said. “I do plan to take a turn or two around the dance floor.”
“I’m planning on doing a bit of that myself.” Ryder threw an arm around Jasper’s shoulders. “Come on. I could use a cold drink after that last ride.”
Gemma
Gemma pulled on a t-shirt and fluffed her red hair. It was a bit bigger than she usually wore it, but she remembered the old Southern adage. The higher the hair, the closer to God.
Not bad, she thoug
ht, looking in the mirror of her tiny bathroom. The window in the second-story apartment was open, letting the cool fall breeze of South Louisiana drift in through the soft lace curtains.
She was glad she’d let her friend, Mandi, talk her into going out. It had been forever since she’d had time, with starting her own business and all.
Since her divorce from Brent, she’d taken her settlement money and poured that and hours of blood, sweat, and tears, into her dream of opening a specialty sandwich shop, “Bite Me,” as she’d decided to name it. The name fit her attitude since Brent had up and left her, telling her simply he didn’t love her anymore but loved his younger, blonde secretary.
She rolled her blue eyes as she did every time she thought about it. It was all so cliché. The hurt had been real, though, and still bubbled under the anger. Things had finally gotten into a routine after her crazy move from Houston back to Lafayette, then starting her business.
Her days started with a cup of strong coffee as she sat in a rocking chair on her balcony. She listened as the birds sang in the trees and watched as the day began. She’d plan out her day on a small yellow notepad, listing the day’s to-dos in meticulous detail. Then she’d spend the rest of the morning and afternoon running the lunch shift at the shop. They were only open at lunchtime for now, but she planned to add in Friday and Saturday night shifts. Eventually, there was a little alcove off the shop she wanted to use for live music.
One step at a time, she thought as she put a final coat of mascara on her long lashes.
Mandi had talked her into attending the rodeo, then out for dancing at the popular nightclub, the Broken Spoke. Mandi had a weakness for anything in boots and a cowboy hat, and they would be out in herds tonight after the rodeo. A veritable buffet of man candy for her friend. For Gemma? Not so much. She’d go for the dancing, but that was it. No man for her, thank you very much. No. No. No. She didn’t have time for one, nor did she want one.