by BJ Wane
“It’s not like her to be evasive, and she’s refused to give me a reason for not joining me tonight. Given the vandalism issues at the clinic that are still unexplained, I’m suspicious.” Drake didn’t have to spell it out any more than that.
Cody’s expression hardened, and his eyes went flat, his reply simple and succinct. “Go.”
“Wait.” Gail reached across the bar and grabbed Drake’s arm. “Did Roz tell you about the dress someone shoplifted and hid in her car?”
“What?” Olivia exclaimed in outrage.
“No, but that explains her change of heart.”
Drake pivoted as both Olivia and Gail started asking questions, ignoring them and Cody when his brother stated, “Call me.”
Kicking himself for ever giving in to Roz’s teasing flirtations, Drake drove out to the clinic with his control a hair’s breadth away from snapping at the thought of someone targeting her. His volatile reaction was exactly what he feared would happen if he got involved with someone. The instant heat and connection of their compatibility as mates went far beyond his imagination from witnessing Gavin and Cody’s downfalls. Working like a drug taking over his system, the close bond had robbed him of all good intentions to repress his baser needs in favor of keeping others safe.
Whipping into the drive, he sped around back and took his first relieved breath at seeing her car. Stomping up to the door, he shook it with one hard pound of his fist. “Roz! Open up.” She set her sights on him, chased him, and tore down his defenses. Well, now she had him.
Roz flung the door open, a comical look of unguarded shock on her face. “What the heck are you doing here?”
“You thought you could blow off our plans without an explanation?” Drake moved forward, backing her up until he slammed the door behind him. Scruffy jumped then recognized him and came gimping over, wagging his tail in greeting, and he regretted startling the poor dog. “Hey, fella.” Drake scratched behind the dog’s ears, glaring at Roz from under the brim of his hat. “We’ll add lying about taking him to Doc’s to your other infractions.”
“I thought you would say to hell with me and happily return to being a surly recluse.
“Wrong, baby.” Yanking her against him, he resisted the urge to strip off that baggy sweatshirt and those tight jeans and start pounding inside her snug, slick sheath. There would be time for that once they returned to the ranch. “It’s too late for that.”
“Why?” she breathed against his mouth, the relief in her pale-blue eyes unmistakable.
“Because I’ve fallen so hard, so fast for you, there’s no choice left for either of us. Why didn’t you tell me about the shoplifting plant in your car?” He was pleased to see a return of that rueful, teasing grin curling her lips.
“I forgot about the small town gossip chain. Let me guess. Gail told you at the club.”
“The question is, why didn’t you?”
Roz rested her forehead on his chest, her abject sigh cutting him to the quick. “I don’t want to involve you or anyone else in my problems, and, crap, they’re piling up.”
“Too late. When you insisted on an affair, you didn’t know what you were asking for, and I wasn’t at liberty to tell you. We’ll rectify that if you don’t still want out once I take care of whoever is harassing you. After that, if you want to end this, I won’t stop you. But for now, you’re stuck with me.”
Roz looked up with a cheeky grin. “I can work with that.”
Shaking his head at her mercurial mood swings, Drake released her. “Then pack some things and let’s get going. I’ll gather Scruffy’s bed and food.”
CHAPTER NINE
Roz gave up. No matter what she thought was sound reasoning for keeping her distance from Drake now that she’d used him to mark off her bucket list, her damn heart and hormones kept insisting she was making a mistake. One focused glare from his bright, blue-green gaze and her heart somersaulted; one stern command issued in that deep, guttural tone sent her blood singing through her veins, and her pussy went damp. As soon as she’d heard him at the door and opened it to his imposing stance and glower, she’d tumbled off the pedestal of good intentions. The heart, and in her case the body, wanted what it wanted, and for some inexplicable reason, both thudded with desire and a deep need for this guy.
That didn’t mean she would follow his dictates like a well-trained puppy. As soon as they arrived at his place, she hopped out of the truck then turned to him as he led her inside. “I won’t let my problems interfere with your family obligations. Just show me where you want Scruffy and me, and go back to the club.”
He closed the door and shot her his familiar disgruntled look. “I wasn’t planning on returning. We need to figure out who is harassing you and why.”
“Later.” Nerves skittered under her skin when she thought about the incidents this week, and the real possibility they were deliberate insults against her. “You said earlier you were needed because your cousin was still out of town, and I’m not comfortable leaving Scruffy in a strange place.” Looking away from his piercing stare, she gazed into the cozy, sparsely furnished living area on the right. “I love your house.” A wide staircase on the left led up into a darkened hall.
“Don’t change the subject. Your issues take precedence over family. They can muddle their way through one night shorthanded,” he argued in that implacable tone.
“Not if you want me to stay tonight. Come on, Drake. You said yourself your place is as solid as a fortress with the security you set up. Can whoever this is get past it, or not?”
Frustration darkened his eyes. “No. Someone can breach a fence line, but the sensors will alert patrol, and the three of us, and they wouldn’t get far.”
“And what about this place?” She waved her arm, indicating his personal space, guessing from his grimace and flash of impatience crossing his face that it was well protected.
Removing his hat, Drake slapped it against his thigh with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay, I’ve wired the house. My brothers don’t know it, but anyone who tries to disarm the alarm or jimmy a window or door after it’s set, will get shocked hard enough to put them out for a few hours, minimum.”
Talk about overkill. Eyeing the scar marring his leathery cheek, Roz decided she didn’t want to hear the details of his time as a POW. She wasn’t sure her heart could take the grief. Time to get both their minds off bad people and concentrate on themselves.
Leaning into him, she dropped her voice to a sultry purr as she placed her lips on his neck, right over his strong pulse. “Go, and when you return, I’ll be here, in your bed, waiting. Come to think of it”—she sank her teeth into his skin—“I’m off work until Monday.”
Cupping her nape, Drake drew her mouth up to his, covering her lips and kissing her with the control and mastery she’d come to love. They were both breathing heavy by the time he pulled away and turned her toward the stairs with a swift, hard swat to her butt. “Master bedroom is upstairs on the right. I’ll put the dog’s bed and dishes in the laundry room off the kitchen. It’s spacious, and he won’t have to struggle with the stairs. Make yourself at home. I’ll set the alarm on my way out, and instruct whoever is on night patrol to stick close to here until I return.”
She thought the extra precaution ridiculous, but it would waste time to argue. As she took the first step up, he added, “And, Roz, we will get to the bottom of this.”
Nodding, she dashed upstairs with her buttock tingling and her lips throbbing, wishing she was as confident. Odds were these incidents were separate from her woes in Iowa with the Cunningham family, but it was time she revealed her past and their threats, if for no other reason than to explain her actions since meeting Drake.
A king-sized, four-poster bed dominated his bedroom. The quilted comforter covering it appeared handmade and went well with the forest-green carpet. She carried her toiletry bag into the attached bath and went agog at the size of the marbled shower with its multiple showerheads. “Oh, yeah, we can have some fu
n in there,” she murmured, imagining their naked, wet bodies writhing together. “Nope, head out of the gutter for now.”
She opted to leave the few clothes she’d shoved into the overnight bag alone, and trotted downstairs to spend time with Scruffy. He’d done his business before coming inside, so he shouldn’t need to go out until Drake returned. A covered plate of homemade cookies sat on a kitchen counter, next to the coffee pot. Helping herself to two, she found the wine fridge at the end of the island and poured a glass of white Chablis then settled in front of the television mounted above a river rock fireplace in the living area.
“He did say to make ourselves at home, didn’t he, boy?” Roz fed him a dog biscuit as she bit into a cookie, tasting macadamia nuts and white chocolate. “Oh, wow, yum. I bet Cody made these.”
Over the next two hours, she watched an old Die Hard movie, trying to keep her spirits up and on the positive side by chatting and playing with Scruffy. Whenever insecurities over the future crept in, she got up and poured another glass of wine, refusing to let them bring her down. These few days might be her last with Drake, or the beginning of weeks more. Right now, she would take whatever she could get.
By the time the movie ended, Roz’s head was swimming with a pleasant mellow buzz as she tucked Scruffy into his bed then returned to Drake’s bedroom. Changed into her nightshirt, she left her clothes on the floor and crawled into his huge, comfy bed. His scent filled her nostrils, and she snuggled down, drifting into the first easy sleep since arriving in Idaho.
****
Thank God for my brothers. Drake climbed the stairs, grateful for Gavin and Cody’s patience with his attitude tonight. Even though they’d tired of his snarly disposition that had turned away more than one patron who had come up to the bar, they understood his concern and the demons that still plagued him from his brief imprisonment. Puss ’N Boots didn’t close for another hour, but they’d shoved him out the door, and he hadn’t argued.
Not since he’d turned his wolf loose in that Afghanistan cave had he found himself so close to the edge of losing his shit, only this time, it wasn’t just rage fueling him, but a need that cut deep into his soul. He wanted Roz, and that scared him because God help this person if Drake learned who he was without someone around to hold him back. He continued to fight the urge to retaliate, to let his wolf loose to wreak havoc, and that was without the person’s identity.
Drake checked on Scruffy, letting him outside for a few minutes before going upstairs and slipping quietly into his room. After spying the wine glass and seeing how much she’d imbibed, he wasn’t surprised to find Roz sound asleep. Fuck, but she looked good in his bed, with her dark-brown hair spread out, the bright-red strip vivid against the green pillowcase and her pale face. He picked up her clothes and draped them on the chair by the dresser then stripped and slid in next to her.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he fell asleep with a woman for the first time in ten years. Too bad that pleasant comfort failed to ward off the nightmare that woke him shaking, drenched in a cold sweat two hours later. Struggling to get control of his breathing and force his mind to the present, he rolled out of bed, yanked on jeans and boots, and left Roz still sleeping soundly.
Heedless of the cold, Drake tore outside, fisted his hands on his hips, and bent at the waist, gasping for air. Reliving the fear, degradation, and pain never failed to rouse the beast in him, that craving for bloody retaliation and revenge. His wolf gouged his gut, needing the release Drake hungered for, the animal’s feral instinct merging with that part of Drake’s psyche that had allowed the wolf to kill once before.
No! He delivered the command with as much fierceness as he could muster as he set off for the stable. His acute hearing picked up the muffled shuffling of Mona and her baby from inside, the hoot of an owl, the click of cicadas, and the far off baying of a brother wolf, yet the familiar nighttime sounds failed to soothe his frayed conscience. The stable blocked the slight north breeze as he rounded the corner and headed to his punching bag hanging under one meager lightbulb.
Forgoing gloves, he laid into the worn, padded leather with his fists, putting every ounce of his strength behind each pummeling blow. The bag swung, twirled, and snapped back at him, but he kept up the steady barrage, punishing himself over and over, ignoring the pain as his skin tore open and his knuckles cramped. His arms grew heavy, his shoulders ached as the chills turned to sweat, and it hurt to breathe.
“Drake.”
Roz’s soft voice filtered through the roaring in his head, scaring the hell out of him. Whipping his head around, he caught the bag, sucking in a much-needed lungful of air. He was still teetering too close to the edge for comfort, nerves and desperation making him lash out in panic.
“Get your ass back into the house. I’ll be in shortly.”
“No.”
Her adamant refusal ignited his temper. “Fuck, Roz, would you do as I say, for once?” She shook her head, stepping closer instead of leaving. His throat went dry, and he held up a hand. “Damn it, I’m not kidding. Go inside. Now.”
She paused, hugging her arms around her, and he noticed she’d donned his flannel shirt. And fuck it, he liked seeing it dwarf her. He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t turn stubborn, or worse, flirtatious. She did neither after her calm, contemplative gaze turned decisive. When she lifted her arm instead of walking away, he opened his mouth to utter a more forceful command, needing her gone, but her next words stopped him cold.
Pushing up the sleeve of his oversized shirt, Roz held out her damaged arm. “I defended myself against my husband when he broke my arm in retaliation for trying to leave him. He’s still in a coma from the blow I delivered with the closest object, a lamp. His mother and uncle have promised I’ll pay, and they have the resources and connections to make that happen.”
Hearing her confession snapped the precarious hold he’d managed to retain on his emotions. Drake reached her in two long strides, the need to strike out against her abuser riding him as hard as the compulsion to mark her with his bite and scent, forever binding her to him. The scene her words implanted in his head screamed for retribution, was tinder to inflame every fear he’d harbored for ten years over getting close to anyone other than his family.
Pressing Roz against the stable wall, Drake ripped open her shirt. “The bastard shouldn’t be allowed to continue breathing.”
Shaking her head, her eyes turned glassy with lust as he shoved up the night shirt under the flannel. “I divorced him. That’s enough for me. Drake.”
God, he loved her easy capitulation as he lifted a bared breast for his mouth. He suckled her nipple with a voracious hunger he couldn’t contain as he yanked her jeans open. With a strong pull upward, he released the puckered tip with a plop, watching her full breast bounce, then lifted his gaze to her flushed face. “You’ve unleashed a devil, baby. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences of that sin. Step out.” Sliding his hand inside her loosened pants, he pushed them down.
“I’ll take my chances,” she panted, working her left leg free of the denim.
“We both will, as I don’t have a condom.” The thought of her round with his child spurred him into a frenzied lust. Hoisting her up, he gripped the soft globes of her ass as she wrapped her arms and legs around him without hesitation.
Roz bent her head, chuckling in his ear. “Timing’s a safe bet. Fuck me, Drake.”
From the first moment he clapped eyes on her, he’d suspected her rash, brazenness would undo them both. In this case, he prayed being right didn’t end badly because he was too invested in her to stop. He powered into her snug, slick heat, an occasional icy raindrop stinging his bare back as he lifted her up and down on his swollen shaft. The sporadic drizzle and cold temperature did nothing to cool the tempest raging inside him since coming out here to exorcise his nightmare demons. His reaction to hearing about her own suffering continued to burn as hot as the convulsive spasms of her swollen muscles around his thrusting cock.
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br /> “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, going deep, knocking against her womb. Her low groan vibrated against his heaving chest. “Take all of me”—he lifted and plunged—“again,”—out and in—“again.” Out and in until the stars lighting up his dark, tortured mind rivaled those found on a clear Idaho night.
Roz quaked in Drake’s strong grip, holding on to his shoulders and ramming hips as if her life depended on not letting go. It just might, she thought, his urgency rubbing off on her. Her breasts bounced with each jarring thrust, his chest hairs scratching her sensitive nipples with each upward lift, her sheath grasping at his cock with every downward push engulfing his rigid length back inside her. The almost-out-of-control frenzied fuck thrilled her beyond measure, called to a deep, hidden need inside her she was only too willing to embrace and assuage in such a powerful, carnal way. She’d trusted him with her body from the get-go, and now the incident with Dean. What was left except to reach for the brass ring and hope for the best?
One long finger resting closest to her puckered rear hole prodded that hypersensitive area, and that was all it took to fragment into a million tiny particles of sheer bliss. “Drake, yes!” Her shrill cry echoed into the night as she turned her face up to the light splatter of ice-cold drops.
Roz shivered with her slow return to functioning awareness, Drake’s hot, heavy breathing in her ear, his fingers digging into her buttocks, holding her secure for the slower dips inside her still spasming vagina. She loved the ability to detect every silk-covered, hard inch of his bare flesh, and the heightened sensations those naked thrusts produced.
“You feel so good.” Her voice wobbled with the confession.
“That’s my line,” he rumbled in her ear.
She giggled. “Beat you to it.”
Shaking his head, he nipped her earlobe. “You’ll be the death of me yet.”
“Oh, I hope not…Drake!” she squealed as he withdrew and lifted her over his shoulder in one, effortless move that left her head and shoulders dangling above the ground.