Snow Bound

by Dani Wade

  Now he just hoped he could keep himself calm while checking her out. Hell, two minutes of her sitting before him on the couch, her mouth even with his crotch, had been more than enough for his body to sit up and take notice. Not to mention the brain that started running through the possibilities in six seconds flat. Knowing she had spent time in an abusive relationship, on top of his earlier arguments with himself, should have had him running fast and furious.

  But instead of being turned off by her, Damon found himself increasingly attracted the more he got to know Tori. She wasn’t uptight and gullible, the way he’d imagined her. Instead, she was damn capable and on top of things. And her half-naked with a loaded gun in her hands—his body spasmed at the picture in his mind. Da-yum.

  He could be in trouble here.

  Focusing on the task at hand, telling himself this was simply a field situation, he motioned for Tori to lie down on the couch. “Just slide over and I’ll take a look.”

  A straight line of white teeth sank into the fullness of her bottom lip, making him wonder for a moment whether she would refuse, but she leaned sideways onto her elbows and allowed him to guide her sculpted legs onto the couch. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his fingertips, her muscles lean and well-formed. Images of how she’d feel beneath him, those legs curled around his thighs, had him breathing deep, his eyes drifting shut for just a moment.

  As she settled, he squeezed along her calves, testing the firmness and searching for any lumps. Her legs twitched under his touch, bringing his gaze to her face, but no pain showed there. As his hands slid higher, she stilled; then her breath released in slow, even pants. Too even. She had to be deliberately controlling it. As her eyes remained trained straight ahead, he clued in.

  She was as aroused by him as he was by her.

  The realization slowed his movements, lent a whole new element to his touch. He gave himself free rein to catalog every dip, every curve. His thoughts turned from exploration to satisfaction—his and hers.

  His fingertips flirted with the hem of her sleep shirt, which had slid down almost to her knee. This time her breath stopped completely. Letting his eyes drift closed, he palmed the front of her upper thigh, cupping her as he followed the curve to the back. The smooth muscle tantalized him. The ache of arousal excited him. The sight of her need pushed him past his former barriers.

  But the gathering desire ground to a halt as his fingertips brushed a spot that had her flinching. “What is it, Princess?” he whispered.

  He opened his eyes to the sight of his fingers buried under her shirt, her gaze wide and bright, glancing back at him over her shoulder. His body roared to attention, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact source. His brain told him to back away, but his body left his brain in the dust. Something primitive was taking hold, whether from the primal instinct to protect or the more basic instinct to mate, either way, his body was pulling for her on a cellular level. With her warm flesh against his, he wasn’t sure he could resist.

  Didn’t even know if he wanted to.

  Dragging his gaze away from her parted lips, he shifted the hand lying against her to slowly lift the hem of her nightgown. He encountered the spreading patch of red first, then the already purple bruising at ground zero. No wonder she was limping. The skin was puffy and discolored, the speed with which the damage appeared telling him how bad it was. Her fair coloring would bruise easily and heavily.

  “Do you have any ice in the freezer?” he asked.

  “What?”

  He would have expected sharp surprise or high-pitched outrage, but the sultry, languid quality of her tone brought his gaze back to her face, drinking in the unconscious invitation in her lowered lids and parted lips.

  One thing that gaze lacked was knowledge—she seemed unaware of the signals she was sending, which intrigued him even more. He’d been around plenty of women, both before and after the military, who knew the right looks, the right body language to signal their interest to a man. Here, Tori didn’t appear to be calculating the size of his cock or the length of his ride; she was simply a woman who wanted him… and she couldn’t know what a hell of a turn-on that was.

  Which meant he had to get out of here before he did something really stupid… like kiss her, for God’s sakes. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman who held children’s tea parties for a living. One night in her bed and she’d be picking out china. His history made family out of the question. So even if he wanted nothing more than to slip beneath that cotton T-shirt, his mind needed to focus on the long haul.

  Rising stiffly, he turned to the kitchen, letting his booted feet take him back through the doorway and across the dimly lit room. He gathered the tea towel hanging from a drawer pull near the sink and opened the freezer in search of ice. The swelling was uncomfortable more than anything, but the ice would help keep it under control. As his gaze swept over the freezer’s interior, he spotted an ice pack resting on one of the shelves in the door. So much easier. Armed with what he needed, he made his way over to the back door and checked both the lock and the deadbolt.

  Mystery Dude would be stupid to attempt to break into Tori’s place after realizing there was a man here, but you never could tell about these good ole boys. Some of them didn’t have the brains God gave a pig. He added to the security with a chair wedged under the knob, then glanced out the glass pane. The curtain of snow seemed just as heavy, so he could only make out about half the backyard, though what he could see remained empty. Hopefully ole Bobby Joe had forgone another attack by finding a place to spend the night and ward off frostbite. But Damon wasn’t holding his breath.

  He made his way back through to the living room, finding Tori resting on the couch in the same position he’d left her. Firelight flickered, casting both shadows and highlights over her light blonde hair. He knelt beside her, the sight of her delicate body awakening a primitive urge to protect. His right hand tightened around the icy-hard pack. He’d protected other men in his unit because that had been his job; civilians had fallen under a similar order. As a natural-born Texan, his gentlemanly urges were well developed enough that he would have extended the same courtesy to any woman or child he’d encountered on the street. After all, that’s what men were on the earth to do.

  But this burn in the center of his chest, the pressure in his core to stand between this woman and harm was something he was unable to actually feel anymore. Growing up as he had, being swept aside while his mother took beating after beating, having her belittle his concerns, had thwarted his naturally protective instincts until he’d been left with only the shadow of them. Yet this tiny woman, with a single look, had awakened what he’d always assumed was lacking in him.

  He’d been wrong. She wasn’t simply a genteel, proper southern woman. She was a dangerous flame set to light his match.

  Draping the towel over her thigh, he eased the ice pack into place over it and the added protection of her T-shirt. Her sharp intake of breath shot through the stillness, making him wonder what sounds she would make under other, more pleasurable circumstances. A quick shake of his head allowed him to focus on more neutral territory, like getting as far away as he could.

  With a sure stride he crossed to the fireplace and stirred the embers inside with the poker, making sure the burn was even and the new logs had caught. The slight whisper of sound as she shifted lent an intimate quality to the silence between them.

  The husky strain in her voice wasn’t much better when she spoke. “What do you think he wants?”

  “You haven’t heard from him in how long?”

  “Not since right after he went to prison.”

  Though he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t get involved, he heard himself speaking anyway. “Did he threaten you in any way? Letters? Messages sent through family or friends?”

  “He didn’t need to,” she said, then paused a moment while she cleared her throat. Sure enough, he glanced over his shoulder to find her tucking her hair back behind her left ea
r. He hadn’t noticed that little habit the other times he’d seen her, probably because she’d been in environments where she’d felt in control—her business, the yard, social gatherings. Tonight the only thing under her control had been her decision to step outside the back door.

  Something he was very grateful she’d done, even if he had been winning.

  Needing to clear away the last of his adrenaline rush, he paced across the old-fashioned braided rug and polished wooden floors. He needed something to do, something to focus on. At home, he would be catching up on his technical manuals or sleeping. Here he was locked in a house with an available, attractive woman and the most likely option wasn’t, well, an option.

  “Why?” he asked, giving in to the need to understand.

  Chapter Four

  Tori cursed the weakness stealing into her body. Tiny quakes jerked through her muscles, though whether they were from the ice on her thigh or the realization that Bobby Joe was actually out there, she wasn’t sure.

  She hated being this vulnerable again. Instinct yelled at her to get up and do something, just as she had done with the gun earlier, but there was nothing to do. Going out into the storm to look for him would be stupid, and the house was as secure as it could be. Nothing left but to wait and see. Take care of herself. Pray the snowstorm wouldn’t wreak as much havoc as they anticipated… because she was going to need a sheriff here as soon as they could get in touch with one.

  Shifting a little, wishing she could get away from the cold pack, she let her mind drift back to the last time she’d seen her ex. His sentencing. When the judge had handed down the stiff punishment, almost a decade in prison, the hometown hero facade had been shattered in an instant. Bobby Joe had whirled to face Tori where she sat alone, her parents at the hospital after her dad’s stroke.

  “He threatened me in front of God and everybody the day of the sentencing,” she whispered, her voice without the strength it needed to project across the space, but he heard her anyway. The tensing muscles in Damon’s back were easier to see now that he’d stripped off his jacket.

  “Do the local police know that?”

  “Yes. Actually it was one of the officers from town came to let me know Bobby Joe had been released on parole. But when nothing came of it, we figured he’d headed somewhere else. His family moved to Knoxville, so he had no reason to come back here.”

  “Except you.”

  Except me. She couldn’t force the words out, hated that she’d even thought them. But it was true. Wasn’t she the special one?

  Damon kept talking. “He must be one determined hombre to be out in this kind of weather.”

  She thought back to her high school days. “He was a big hunter, just like a lot of guys around here. He’d know where to get some equipment for this, I guess.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I’m wrong. Why would he go to all this trouble for me?”

  Unable to stand the chill any longer, even with the heat pumping from the fireplace, she used the nearest hand to wrap the ice pack in the towel and lift it off her.

  “That should probably stay on a little longer,” Damon said, moving toward her across the room.

  Another shiver worked through her, but she managed to turn it into a shrug. “I think it will be fine. A couple of pain relievers and I’ll be as good as new.”

  He knelt to the left of her legs, automatically reaching for the hem of her T-shirt. “Let me just take a quick look and make sure you’re all right.”

  Welcome heat rushed to her cheeks. At least the room was shadowed enough to hide her reaction. Though this time the embarrassment didn’t take hold, for which she was grateful. In its wake crept a very different sensation, one she didn’t have a lot of experience with. Oh, she’d had her share of lovers, but they’d been few and far between, seeing as what a small town Cadence was. Pretty hard to find someone to date who hadn’t known you since you were in pigtails. And she was cautious enough to not want to ruin those lifelong friendships with something she was certain wouldn’t last.

  No, the desire rushing under her skin was unique to Damon. There’d been a foreshadowing of it from the first moment she’d seen him, but now it rushed into full bloom. The ache burned low, leaving an empty feeling in her core that yearned for fulfillment. Her skin felt sensitized, as if the slightest brush would overwhelm her with sensation. Her nipples, tightened from the cold, stiffened even further against the brush of her shirt, begging for his attention.

  The fact that he was looking at half her naked ass didn’t help matters.

  Desperate for a distraction, she said, “Thank you, Damon.”

  He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting hers. His warm palm cupped the cool flesh of her thigh, right above the numbness, bringing awareness of his masculinity. The very things she most needed to forget.

  “Thank you for coming out in the cold and the snow to help someone you don’t know very well. I’m so glad I’m not going through this alone.”

  “I’m right here if you need me, darlin’,” he said, his Texas twang deepening as he leaned closer.

  She’d meant to distract herself with something other than the physical, but when Damon’s lips drew near hers, she could think of nothing else. Warm breath met her flesh first. Her lips parted of their own volition, as if to invite that part of him into herself. She inhaled, trying to pull him closer, but held herself utterly still. The only part of her meeting Damon was her look, and those eyes held her transfixed. He looked at her like a revelation, like he’d been given an astonishing gift…and he planned to make the most of it.

  His lips met hers, smooth and dry. They rested together, not moving, as their breath comingled. Then with a light shift of movement, his tongue darted through to brush the inner curve of her bottom lip. Her groan was the only encouragement he seemed to need. He pressed closer, his tongue dipping inside to explore her.

  Smooth and silky-wet, he began to explore and all her protests fell in the face of his pursuit. She met him with her own need, twining her tongue with his, her body twisting to meet the hard planes of his chest. His groan was all the encouragement she needed. Her hands lifted to the outer curve of his shoulders, digging into sculpted muscles that were camouflaged by the layers of clothes he had on to fight the cold.

  He tasted so good, musky and dark. She could have sat there all night with their mouths fused together. He allowed no quarter, sealing his lips to hers and taking what he wanted. And all he wanted, she willingly gave.

  * * *

  As Damon’s body jumped from slow simmer to maximum overdrive, he fisted the cushions on each side of her. From the moment he first saw her, he’d categorized her as “hearth and home”, thus firmly off limits. But now he could see that he’d fed himself a lie.

  He’d kept away from her because his body recognized the danger. Consuming desire pulsed through him, tightening every muscle from the base of his neck to the arches of his feet—and the most important muscle in between. The instant erection shocked him, but not as much as standing on the precipice of an orgasm in twenty seconds flat.

  Jerking away from the source of the burn, he rose to his feet in a less than steady motion. Her wide eyes and still-panting lips barely registered as he turned away and marched for the door. “I’m going to check outside,” he said over his shoulder.

  He didn’t know what he was going to check or why he wanted to walk around in a winter wonderland. All he knew was that he had to get away from Tori before he spontaneously combusted… something he hadn’t worried about since he was fifteen years old.

  Shrugging back into his coat, he palmed his Maglite and charged through the door even before a borrowed hat stretched firmly over his head. There the momentum dissipated. The back porch was relatively protected, the push of the wind drawing snowflakes to rest on his boots. He stood in the silence, listening for anything other than the rush of air, anything human, while his mind replayed the kiss.

  The hottest kiss he’d ever experienced, and he wasn’t a monk by a
ny stretch of the imagination. What the fuck?

  As he stood there, staring out at the swirling snow, the bitter wind creeping around the edges of his clothing, a dark sense of anticipation crept over him. He’d had similar feelings before missions that ended up going wrong. That same tingle worked its way down his spine, alerting him to danger ahead. He’d like to chalk it up to the unknown criminal entity possibly hiding in the woods at this very moment, but had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with the seemingly innocent woman he’d left shocked and dazed in the warmth of the house.

  Damn it to hell. He shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have kissed her. Shouldn’t have left her. Sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about finishing what he’d started.

  She wasn’t the type to indulge in casual sex. He’d heard nothing more than upstanding-citizen shit about her from the moment he’d picked the adjoining house. She wasn’t gossiped about because there wasn’t any dish. And if he used her and discarded her, right in his own backyard, he was a bastard for sure.

  Distracting himself with the task at hand, he stepped off the porch without turning on the flashlight. Falling into the silent steps he’d adopted during covert operations, he tracked the perimeter of the yard, going as far as the edge of the trees without catching sight nor sound of the intruder.

  Until he reached the far side of the house. Disturbed snow had him pausing. He hadn’t heard anything since he’d been outside, so he flicked on the flashlight without worry of anyone seeing. The snow at his feet held indentations the size of male shoes, slowly filling as the white stuff continued to fall.

  The trail led straight to the house, on the opposite side from Damon’s, and contained enough prints that it had probably been traveled several times. His heart rate picked up, speeding the blood through his numbing body. Hard-packed snow ended the track, right underneath the living room window.