Seducing His Secret Wife--A brother's best friend romance
Page 16
The wind screamed around the building, raising goose bumps on his skin. “Not a tornado,” he reminded himself. Uneasy, despite his attempts to reassure himself, he paced the room, continuously clicking through channels. The electronic alert from the weather radio on a nearby table made his heart race. The computerized voice advised everyone to shelter in place, reminded them that when the eye hit, to stay put, and that the storm swell would send Lake Sabine and connecting bayous to 500-year-flood levels. Beaumont was about twenty miles from the Gulf Coast, but lakes and bayous peppered the area.
Rain beat on the roof like rolling thunder and the wind continued to howl. He grabbed a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would steady his nerves. Weather was so not his thing. “Not afraid,” he muttered. “Just cautious. There’s a difference.” Except his brothers still teased him. Well, that was their problem, right? They hadn’t been out on horseback that day. They hadn’t had to hunker down in the caved-in root cellar of an abandoned cabin. And they hadn’t lost their favorite horse during the tornado.
Morose now, he clicked through the movie channels until he found one with car chases and explosions. Cooper turned up the volume in a vain attempt to drown out the storm.
* * *
“This is Britt Owens, reporting live from Beaumont, Texas, for KOCX, Oklahoma’s Original.” Britt signed off from the live telecast then reached to turn off the camera. Her cameraman and chase assistant, Leo, was in the hospital, having been beaned by a flying trash can earlier that day. That the former football lineman could be leveled so easily was a shock. She’d wanted to call off the live updates but the station back in Oklahoma City had overruled her.
She broke down the camera and tripod, stuffing them into her storm chaser’s truck. She hadn’t planned on growing up to be an adrenaline junkie but after surviving an Oklahoma tornado as a kid, she’d set her sights on becoming a meteorologist. Her original goal had been to work in the lab with computers. Her bank account and student loans had other ideas. Which was why she was currently in this predicament.
Britt hadn’t volunteered for hurricane duty. Yes, they were amazing weather phenomena, but tornadoes were what got her pulse racing. And even though hurricanes spawned tornadoes on the leading edge, she was stuck covering the eye of the storm since the station paid the bills. Secretly, she wanted to be the one naming storms, not that she held a grudge and would use the names of people she didn’t get along with for inspiration.
The wind blasted around the corner, sending her slamming into the side of her truck. Ouch. That would leave a bruise.
The intensifying storm had jumped from a Category 3 to Category 4 in an hour and the rainbands now swept in faster and faster. Time to take shelter. As soon as she edged her truck out into the main force of the wind, the big vehicle shuddered. She glanced at the weather instruments panel. As winds currently topped out at 137 miles per hour, shelter had become a necessity. Between rain and darkness, she could barely see the road. Debris passed on both sides. The truck, set up for storm chasing, had all sorts of computronics and instruments. It was big, with shatterproof glass and run-flat tires—all important for getting her through this in one piece.
She should have stayed at the hospital after dropping off Leo. Too bad her curiosity and the urging of the senior meteorologist back home overrode her logical brain, feeding into her inner adrenaline junkie. The wheel jerked in her hands and the truck hydroplaned. She fought for control, and managed to keep the vehicle on the road, pointed in the right direction. No way would she make it to the hotel. Or the emergency operations center in the basement of city hall.
A light gleamed through the sheets of water pounding her windshield. Someone had power? Maybe it was a fire station. She headed for the light, suppressing the spasm threatening to lock her muscles. A huge black blob appeared in her peripheral vision. She slammed on the brakes; the truck fishtailed and finally stopped. Once the world quit spinning, she discovered she could still breathe, once she remembered how.
Britt was not going to die. Not tonight.
* * *
A steady thump thump thump, sounding like his heartbeat echoing in Cooper’s ears, was a bass drum to the wailing wind. The sound came again. He hoped none of the shutters had come loose. Then he froze. Was that a voice? He held his breath, listening hard after clicking mute on the TV.
Thump thump thump. “Is anybody here? Let me in!”
He set the coffee cup down so hard it sloshed and then he was sprinting for the front door. He didn’t hesitate to unlock and yank off the brace bar to wrestle the door open. A woman stumbled into him, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her to steady her. He had to lean into her, fighting the wind to get the door closed and secured again. Once that was done, he discovered he’d pressed her back against the door.
He held his breath, aware that his body liked her—rain-soaked clothes and all—pressing against him. Yeah, parts of him seemed a little too happy about their position. He loosened his arms, but she didn’t move. Her arms remained wrapped around his waist. He cleared his throat. She still didn’t move.
“Ah, miss?”
She raised her head, clocking him on the chin.
“Ow!”
“Oh! Sorry!” She let go but couldn’t back up due to the door behind her.
Cooper stepped away, rubbing his chin. “No problem but, darlin’, I gotta ask, what the devil are you doin’ out in this?”
The woman scrubbed at her face. “My job.” Oddly, her statement sounded more like a question.
“Bad night for it.”
“Definitely.” She glanced at a reception area. “I’m...confused. You aren’t trying to stay open or something, are you?”
“Nope. Temporary shelter. This place can withstand a Category 5 and has a generator. I’m hunkered down here for the duration.”
She inhaled, waiting a long moment before exhaling. “Well, I’m glad you are. I wouldn’t have lasted out there much longer.” She stuck out her hand. “Britt Owens.”
“Cooper Tate.” He wrapped his hand around hers, very aware how his rough callouses scraped against the soft skin of her palm. Then he realized she was shivering. “Let me get you some dry clothes. And food. Coffee. Or hot tea. Got both.”
He ushered her to the break room where he dug out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from his duffel bag. Pointing toward the bathroom, he said, “You can change in there.”
When Britt came out, Cooper pretended he didn’t appreciate the way she looked in his clothes, nor did he acknowledge the buzz of possessiveness that filled him. Nope. Not at all. Something crashed outside and they both jumped, which jerked him back to reality in a heartbeat.
They ate sandwiches mostly in silence, though she explained she was in Beaumont to cover the storm for a TV station. When she yawned, Coop suggested they try to sleep. “There’s an air mattress in the office down the hall. You can sleep there. I’ll bunk on the couch.”
Britt eyed the couch, gave him a once-over and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like you’ll fit.”
“Not gonna argue, darlin’. My momma raised me to be a gentleman.”
Elbow planted on the table, she leaned into her palm. Her eyes were brown, he realized as he got a good look at her. And they were flecked with a shade of gold close to the color of her hair. Her face, an almost perfect oval, was pale and drawn, dark circles marring her skin. Her full lips, even as they drooped with exhaustion, ignited an urge to kiss them. He resisted because she looked worn out. He brushed a tendril of hair off her face and whispered, “C’mon, weather girl. Let’s get you to bed.”
She followed him to the office he used when in town. A thick air mattress, almost the height of an actual bed, sprawled in the open space between door and desk. It even had sheets and pillows. He grabbed a pillow and turned to leave. Britt blocked the door. Coop arched a brow, confused.
“Stay.” She sounded
insistent.
“Not a good idea—” he began before she cut him off with a breathy, “With me.”
Oh, yeah. He wanted to do that. Which made it a really bad idea. “Look, Britt...”
She fumbled with the hem of the T-shirt she wore, twisting it in her fingers before she huffed out a breath, as if she’d made up her mind. She met his gaze. “I don’t want to sleep alone. Okay?”
She was adamant, despite the nervous movement of her fingers, and she sounded almost angry. Honestly? Coop didn’t want to sleep alone either. Which made him feel like a big ol’ wuss but those were the breaks. Curious about her reasons, he asked. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to sleep with me?”
She blinked at him several times before a speculative look slid across her features. “Why not? You’re a good-lookin’ guy. I’m not exactly coyote ugly—”
That startled a burst of laughter from him. She was definitely not ugly. Her face suffused with color as her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned out. “Go ahead and laugh but...dang it!” She threw her hands up, beginning to pace the narrow confines of the office. “I watched my cameraman get slammed by flying debris today. He’s in the hospital. He could have died. I’ve reported the death toll and that number is only going to rise before this witch of a storm goes away. People have lost everything. Eve...ry...thing.”
She stopped right in front of him. “People have died.” Her voice fell to a husky whisper, the edges still sharpened by anger. And fear. “There’s so much bad out there tonight. Is it wrong that I want something good? That I want to feel strong arms around me? To be kissed? To...” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks no longer pink as reality seeped back into her.
“I’m...scared, okay?”
His hand caught the back of her neck and tugged her against him. “I’m scared too, Britt.” Coop wasn’t sure why he could admit that to a stranger—no, not a stranger. To her. To Britt. She rested her forehead against his chest and her arms circled his waist.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not a... I don’t go pick up random men and proposition them.”
“Shh. Didn’t think you did.”
“Just so you know.” She was nothing if not persistent. Cooper smiled into her hair. Strands of the blond silk caught in his scruff as she tilted her head back to look up at him. “I just want to feel something...real. Something life-affirming.”
Cooper didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. He lowered his head, capturing her mouth. She tasted of grape jelly and peanut butter, and he swore that would be his favorite flavor from now on.
Britt leaned against him, her mouth and body softening. He deepened the kiss, taking her mouth with an urgency that swelled up from deep inside. Keeping one hand on her nape to guide the kiss, he skimmed the other over her back before cupping her rounded curves. He pressed her against his erection and she purred.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want this. Want you.”
That’s all the permission he needed. He walked her to the bed and eased her down before joining her. He used both hands to touch her, slipping them under the T-shirt—his shirt—to trace her smooth skin before divesting her clothes. As his hands roamed, hers weren’t idle, stripping off the shirt he wore before working on his belt and zipper. He pushed her hands away, and sat up to kick off his boots and jeans. He stretched out beside her, and her hands traced his abs before seeking out more private parts. Tentative fingers gripped him, and he sucked in air.
“Britt.” He needed to slow down, keep his wits.
“Please?” Her whisper teased his skin. “I want this. You want it. We’re alive. Let’s celebrate.”
The wind screamed around the building and the roof rattled, adding an exclamation—and urgency—to her words. The small part of his brain that could still think admitted she could be right. He caressed her breast as she squeezed him. His hips pumped into her hands.
“Britt.” Her name was now a plea. As his free hand sought her core, finding her hot and wet, his conscience jabbed him. Condom. Swiftly, he rolled them over and he fumbled along the floor searching for his jeans and the wallet in his back pocket. He found it and the foil packet tucked inside. She arched against him and his body went on autopilot, reacting to her desire. She moaned, hips pumping against his groin. She was hot and ready for him. Condom on, her body open to him, he slid inside her, catching her soft gasp with a kiss.
Something crashed and the building shook. Britt’s nails dug into his shoulders. “Hurry,” she demanded, as if the end of the world was imminent. Maybe it was, if the racket outside was any indication.
Adrenaline demanded he take this woman hard and fast. The urgent noises she made indicated she wanted the same, but something coiled inside him, holding him back, something that turned the hunger for frenetic sex into a craving to make love. If there was no tomorrow, he wanted to go out surrounded by the sweetness that was Britt Owens.
As if attuned to his thoughts, she gentled beneath him, met his slow thrusts with a whispered, “Yes.”
He touched her, exploring curves and skin, hair and mouth, all while he continued rocking into her, rousing them both to higher levels of passion until they both crested and tumbled into the exhaustion that lurked in the dark.
Cooper pulled Britt into his arms, and they drifted off to sleep, the sound of the howling wind a terrible lullaby.
Copyright © 2021 by Silver James
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ISBN-13: 9781488070433
Seducing His Secret Wife
Copyright © 2021 by Robin Ray Coll
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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