She hung his coat and placed hers beside it, rubbing her arms with her hands to ward off the chill, although the fire had really caught and was beginning to throw off some heat.
Galen was on one knee before the fire, tending it. She walked to where he knelt and raked her fingers through the tousled strands of his hair.
“The fire feels good already.”
He grunted a response and rose, once again stirring her with his sheer size. She dropped her hand to his nape, and he shivered.
“Your hand is cold.”
He reached up and grasped it gently, then joined it with her other hand between his palms. “Let me warm you up.” He rubbed her hands briskly, but that was far from how she had envisioned him chasing away the chill.
Still, she liked that he wasn’t rushing to jump her bones. It spoke volumes about the kind of man he was.
That only made her want to jump his bones, right then and there.
Easing her hands from his, she said, “I have a better idea for how you can warm me up.”
Before he could protest, she quickly slipped her hands beneath his black knit sweater. “Way cold,” he murmured again, but chuckled as she worked her hands up his body to cup the thick swell of muscle on his chest.
“But getting warmer,” Jamie teased, and leaned closer. The very obvious ridge of his erection beneath his jeans brushed against her.
“Let me check on that,” Galen replied, easing his hands beneath the thermal fabric of her shirt. She jumped at the chill of his fingers and the sexy roughness of his palms. She liked men who worked with their hands. As he dragged them upward to cup her breasts, they left a trail of heat along her body.
In one smooth move, he undid her bra and yanked her shirt over her head, baring her to his gaze. “So very gorgeous.” He covered her with his hands, stroking the tight nubs of her nipples with his thumbs.
“No fair. I’d like to see also,” she kidded. He bent a bit so she could pull his shirt over his head and then explore the broad plains of his shoulders and chest while he continued to caress her with his hands.
So big, she thought to herself and wondered if his cock would be as impressive, but as he shifted one hand to the small of her back and pressed her close, she had her answer.
She nearly moaned at the size of him against her belly, and between her legs, dampness wet her panties at the thought of all that driving into her. The thought yanked a moan from her and he stilled.
“Did I hurt you?” Concern rang in every word.
“Only if you stop touching me.”
He groaned, and the sound reverberated through that powerful chest and into her, making her clit swell with need and her vagina clench in anticipation. Dropping one hand down, she cupped him through his jeans, stroking him, urging him to do the same to her. As he opened her jeans and slipped his hand to her center, he sucked in a shaky breath.
“So hot and wet. I want to feel that, Jamie. I want to taste you.”
She nearly came right then and there from his words and the first tentative sweep of his long, thick fingers across her cleft. As it was, her knees nearly buckled, and he steadied her before backing her toward the large leather sofa in front of the fireplace.
Galen eased her onto the surface of the couch and then knelt before her. Not an easy thing to do in his condition. His cock was so hard that not even his normally comfortable jeans were helping. And the sight of her, golden from the flames of the fire, those gorgeous breasts right there…
He undid her jeans. Helped her skim them off so she was lying before him, gloriously naked.
Easing his big body between her legs, he leaned forward and cradled her breasts in his hands, taking his time with her. Wanting to build her pleasure before he took his.
Bending his head, he licked his tongue across the hard tip of one breast while kneading the other. She urged him on with a soft sigh and her hand tangled in his hair. Over and over he bit and sucked and savored her marvelous tits until she was writhing beneath him, clearly needing more.
He needed more also.
Rising, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he yanked down his zipper, freeing the painful pressure against his dick.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him and she shuddered in anticipation, but he wasn’t quite ready to end their foreplay.
Shucking off his jeans, he knelt before her again and ran his palms up the inside of her thighs to open her to his gaze. With his thumbs, he parted her soft nest of honey-brown curls, revealing the swollen pink nub at her core. Letting his thumbs stroke down her glistening nether lips, he shifted and kissed that nub, yanking a shaky breath from her.
“Galen,” was all she could manage to say, but she parted her thighs further and laid her hands on his shoulders, inviting him to play.
He licked and sucked her clit, loving the taste of her and her ragged cries of pleasure. The bite of her nails into his skin kept him close. She was wet from his mouth and from her arousal as he pushed first one finger and then another into her, preparing her for his penetration. He stroked and spread her until she was shaking beneath him and begging for more with the upward thrust of her hips.
He rose up then, positioning the head of his erection at her entrance. His thumb rode her clit, keeping up the pressure that had her on the edge. His gaze connected with hers, which had deepened to an almost sapphire-blue. With his free hand, he reached up and cradled her cheek. She moved her head, nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.
God, he nearly came from that lick, but reined himself in enough to slowly push forward into the tight canal of her vagina until he was fully sheathed in her. He held still then, allowing her to acclimate to him. Allowing himself to relish the warm, tight wetness of her.
Jamie held her breath at his complete penetration, unprepared for the feel of so much man inside her. Above her. Around her. There was no getting away from the feel, smell and taste of Galen, she thought, and licked his thumb again, sampling the saltiness of his skin and the taste of her from his earlier caresses.
“You feel…amazing,” he said, rotating his thumb against her clit. Her muscles clenched around him in response, dragging his eyes shut with the sensation of it.
She reached up, skipped her hand from his shoulder down to his chest. She saw it then, just beneath one armpit, the star-shaped scar from the bullet that had nearly taken his life. Covering it with her hand, she whispered, “Never be sorry you’re alive, Galen.”
He tensed at her words and slowly opened his eyes. His pupils had gone nearly black with emotion, and she worried she had pushed too far, but then a tremor worked across his body, almost like a physical release of what he had been feeling.
He finally moved then, drawing back with that magnificent cock before driving forward again, his motions controlled and deliberate.
She accepted each thrust, which sent her rising higher and higher toward a release. She urged him on by roaming her hands all across his body, which seemed to give him great pleasure. Almost as if it had been way too long since he’d been touched. That thought hit her more powerfully than the passion he was rousing.
Grabbing hold of his shoulders, she raised herself up and kissed his temple. Then his cheek. The shell of his ear. Her kisses like benediction—until she reached his mouth.
His lips were firmed into a tight line as he strove to please her. She dropped kiss after kiss along the edges of his mouth until he finally opened to her and accepted the slide of her tongue.
She kissed him over and over, dancing her tongue along his. Rolling her hips to embrace his possession, pushing him even deeper. Pressing her breasts into him to tease the hard wall of his chest.
“God, Jamie. You feel incredible,” he said, but she could sense him holding back.
“Come with me, Galen. Come with me,” she pleaded.
With a groan and a last grind of his hips, he came and took her over the edge with him.
Chapter Three
One year later
New York City
Jamie drove away the desire she felt, creating an ache in her chest that she had to quell.
Forget about him, she thought as she gathered her research for another story she was working on for a future issue. Forgetting was hard to do, however, as she called the Cat’s Claw Inn to reserve a room for the next few days. She would head up tomorrow morning and stay at the inn while she tried to get Galen to see her again.
The innkeeper’s perkiness grated against Jamie’s frazzled emotions and she hurried the woman off the phone by rattling off her credit card information and cell phone number. Dropping her phone back into the cradle, she wished she’d made the reservations online.
Stuffing everything into her leather knapsack, she headed home, but even there she couldn’t escape Galen.
As soon as she entered, her gaze settled on her copy of Galen’s book sitting on her desk. She dropped her keys on a foyer table and her knapsack on the floor and slowly, reluctantly, walked over.
The cover and top few pages had a curl at one corner from the many times she had opened the book and tried to read it. She had never gotten past that damning dedication and note.
She once again flipped through the pages until she reached that spot. In the printer’s neat typeface it read, “To J. Thanks for pulling me back into the world.”
But in smudged ink in larger masculine script Galen had written, “I’m sorry.”
She was sorry, too. Sorry she’d had wild animal sex with him. Sorry she had made a fool of herself with all those calls after he’d been hurt.
Sorry that she had ever met him.
Tossing the book back on the desk, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Then she headed to her bedroom, intent on driving him out of her mind with a good read.
But not even the latest romance from her favorite author helped. If anything, every time the sexy hero sauntered onto the pages bare chested in his formfitting jeans, she pictured Galen.
Disgusted, she gulped down the rest of her wine and hunkered down to sleep, hoping Galen would stay out of her dreams.
* * *
The skies were a leaden-gray and a ferocious wind rocked her Jeep Wrangler as she drove from New York City to Cat’s Claw Mountain the next morning. The first flakes of snow had begun in Connecticut and grown heavier with each passing mile, slowing her arrival at the inn. Once she had checked in and dropped off her bags, she had headed up the mountain to Galen’s, hoping to beat out the worst of the storm.
Unfortunately, the wind picked up and the snow thickened, driving heavy fat flakes against her windshield and slowing her trip up the mountain road. To add to her misery, big gusts of snow rocked her Jeep, forcing her to grip the wheel so tightly her hands ached. Flexing her fingers one hand at a time, she focused on avoiding the worst patches of ice and snow on the logging road leading up to Galen’s.
It took over an hour to go the short distance, thanks to the messy road conditions. By the time she reached the iron and stone gate that marked the start of Galen’s property, the snow that had been falling all day only got heavier. Big, thick, lacy flakes were coming down with ever increasing frequency in the fading light of dusk.
Damn, she thought as she pulled her Jeep in front of the gate and walked up to the intercom. She pushed the button to call Galen, but there was no response.
A vicious gust of wind cut through her clothing and nearly yanked her ski cap off her head. She jammed it back on and looked up toward the lodge looming high on the mountainside. It was at least a mile up the long, winding road to Galen’s home, and with the snow and darkness falling, she wasn’t looking forward to the hike. But returning to town wasn’t a good idea either. The logging road had been perilous enough when she could see the ruts and dangerous patches of ice and snow from a previous storm.
With the snow coming down as fast it was, the road would be obscured quickly, making driving even more treacherous.
Sucking in a cold, bracing breath, she returned to the Jeep to grab her knapsack and lock up the car, not that anyone would be out in this weather to steal it. She slung the knapsack over her shoulders and clambered around the narrow rock wall to one side of the stone gate. Then she slid down through the rocks and brush on the other side to reach the road leading up to Galen’s lodge.
As she walked, the wind kicked up more viciously, driving the snow into her face, forcing her to squint to see only a few feet ahead of her.
Darkness seemed to arrive quickly, and it was all she could do to stay on the road, head bent against the wind and snow. Her muscles protested the slow incline. Her mind chastised her for her stupidity.
She should never have started the drive up with night and a storm on the way. Not to mention that the locals had warned her that since Galen’s accident no one ventured onto his property alone. The bellhop who had taken up her bag had said that even the deliverymen taking him the groceries he ordered and assorted mail and packages never ventured farther than the front gate. According to innkeeper and her assistant behind the desk as she checked in, weird things had been happening on the mountain ever since Galen’s misfortune.
She was about a quarter mile away from his home when the hackles along the back of her neck rose in warning. Pausing, she examined the area all around. The snow had already covered the brush and undergrowth along the edges of the road and dusted the ground beneath the denser canopy of pine trees in the adjacent forest.
It was deathly still. Not the peaceful kind of quiet that nature wrought. This was the serial-killer-is-about-to-stab-you, horror-movie kind of quiet.
Not a sound came through the biting cold air until she heard the rustle of brush from a distance. Turning, she peered into the darkness, but could see nothing. Then she heard something more regular. Heavier, like a large animal in motion.
Galen? she wondered. A low snarl sounded, and from far down the road the glow of yellow-green eyes pierced the night.
She took off in a run, her knapsack slapping against her back as she raced toward the lodge. A dangerous growl chased her, as well as the now very obvious sounds of an immense animal loping up the mountain road.
Turning the bend on the final approach to Galen’s, she realized not one light was on in the building. She prayed he would be there to open the door before whatever was racing up the mountain reached her.
Running as fast as she could, she slipped on a patch of ice just before the front steps and fell hard onto the ground. It knocked the wind out of her. Then she heard the very feline roar threatening her, even closer than before.
She scrambled to her feet and nearly leaped up the stairs. Grabbing the knob, she almost cried with relief as the door opened. She surged inside and slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure. Tossing aside her knapsack, it landed with a loud thud. She waited for Galen to appear, but he didn’t.
Before she could even wonder why, a huge body hit the double doors, rattling them in their frame and almost bowing the center open.
Loud growls, snarls and scratches resonated through the wooden doors until a second loud crash came against them.
Fearing that another attack would weaken the lock enough to allow the animal to enter, Jamie put her shoulder against the doors and braced her legs, hoping to counteract the force of the animal. When the blow came, it nearly tossed her away, but she dug in against the doors, certain that if whatever was out there got inside, she was a goner.
As she held her ground, the frustrated growling and rumbling of the animal on the other side of the door carried through the thick wood. She felt the weight of the beast as its footsteps on the front porch reverberated on the ground beneath her feet. The sound of nails clawing at the thick wood came before another powerful ram of the door, but the closure held, thanks to Jamie strengthening it with her weight.
She didn’t know how long the attack went on. She lost track of whether it was hours or minutes, but eventually quiet came. Still, she didn’t relax her guard, leaning back again
st the center of the doors and sliding down to the wooden floor.
Weariness crept into her body from the hike up the hill and the battle, but she knew she couldn’t fall asleep.
She had to be ready, she told herself, and focused on the fire in the hearth across from her, once again wondering where Galen could be. After all, he must have started the fire and left the door unlocked. And the noise of the attacks and the animal outside had to have caught his attention. Unless something was wrong with him.
That worry lingered with her during the night as she watched the flames die, leaving behind only glowing embers that slowly faded to black.
She waited for daylight and her body told her it should be morning already, but there was still no light coming through the windows. As she examined the closest one with bleary eyes, she realized the windows had been shuttered closed. Big, thick wooden shutters that had not been in place during her last visit.
Shooting a glance at her watch, she realized it was nearly eight in the morning.
Where the hell was Galen?
She rose from the floor, her body stiff with fatigue and the damp chill in the air now that the fire had died. Shivering, she wondered why Galen didn’t have the heat on.
Luckily, the thermostat was only a few feet away and she punched in a higher temperature. The furnace immediately kicked on, the heating system forcing a whoosh of hot air through the large open space.
It was then she heard the creak of the door and a knock. A feeble, faint knock against the thick wood.
Heart thudding with fear, she hesitated, unsure of what was on the other side of the door. But then the weak knock came again, totally unlike the brutal blows from last night. Risking it, she unlocked the door and cracked it open an inch, praying it was not whatever animal had been trying to break in the night before.
Fear morphed into shock at the sight of Galen’s naked snow-covered body lying huddled against the lodge’s wall. She threw open the double doors, and he sagged onto the floor where he lay motionless, his skin pale and deathlike.
Night of the Cougar Page 2