Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

  “You think because I give this money back, Brian won’t go back to that table again?”

  “Giving the money back isn’t enough.”

  “Not enough?”

  She shook her head. “You can’t gamble with him anymore.”

  Another of those slow blinks. “I can’t?”

  “No.”

  “Honey, I’m a grown man and so is he, and your nose, cute as it is, is sticking where it doesn’t belong.”

  That was too much. Very calmly, very precisely she said, “This morning, Terrance, my student, came into my classroom with a black eye and a split lip asking for my help because he’s being put out of his home. That being the case, I’m here to appeal to whatever shred of decency that still exists in your body to give that horrible man back his money so that little boy will have a home tomorrow.”

  Ace pushed his hat back and rubbed his forehead. In the late-afternoon light, she could see the paleness of his skin, the tightness of his expression. He was hungover.

  He sighed. “That’s a hell of a lot of words to throw at a man before coffee.”

  She looked at him. “I’ve got more.”

  “Save them.”

  “Then just say you’ll do it, and I’ll let you go get your cup of coffee.”

  “That’s a fool’s mission.”

  “You’re Hell’s Eight and a Texas Ranger. There has to be honor in you somewhere.”

  “That’s a common myth.” Taking off his hat, he ran his hand through his hair again before asking, “He beat the boy?”

  “He beats Terrance every time you take his money.”

  His hands dropped to his sides. “I don’t take his money. He loses it.”

  “That’s splitting hairs.”

  “Not in my book.”

  “Fine, I’ll rephrase. Every time he loses at your table, he takes it out on his son. His eight-year-old son,” she added for emphasis.

  “Fuck.”

  She really needed to learn to use that word. It conveyed so much with so little. “I’ll thank you not to use that language around me.”

  This time the look she got wasn’t so sympathetic. She didn’t push, just waited. After a minute he said, “I’ll do it on one condition.”

  She knew better than to say “anything.” “What’s your condition?”

  “I want a kiss.”

  “A kiss?”

  Pushing off the wall, he took a step closer. She took one back.

  “Just a kiss.”

  The wall brushed her shoulder. She melted against it, her gaze hopelessly dropping to his lips. Just.

  The word with all its implications lingered in her mind. Just the feel of his breath on her skin. Just the touch of his lips to hers. Just that slight pressure. That gentle parting. Just that hot claiming...

  Ace reached out, and she flinched. He smiled, a devil’s smile that promised so much as his finger grazed her temple in a featherlight caress. In a rough drawl, he murmured, “Don’t.”

  Such a soft, seductive order. A shiver snaked down her spine. When she would have leaned away, he shook his head and issued another. “Stay.”

  She did for no other reason than he was the one who issued it. He increased the pressure ever so slightly—just enough—drawing his fingertips down her cheek and along her jaw, finding the sensitive skin of her neck. She gasped as sensation gathered. Goose bumps sprang up. His nostrils flared. She didn’t move and, for an instant, neither did he. They just stood there in the alley with the warmth of the sun heating the air between them. “What do you say, schoolmarm? Do we have a deal?”

  “I think you want a lot.”

  He shrugged. “You’re asking a lot.”

  Placing her hand on his chest, savoring the flex of hard muscles and the soft hiss of his indrawn breath, Petunia stood on tiptoe, intending to kiss his cheek. He shook his head and smiled, and that finger, that oh, so tantalizing finger, traveled to the corner of her lip, teasing the delicate skin there, coaxing forth another airy gasp and more goose bumps.

  “I want a real kiss.”

  The raspy tone melted into the heat of his touch, melted into her. Her gaze dropped to the sculpted beauty of his mouth. That mouth with those full lips she’d always fantasized about sliding over hers, parting hers. Oh, yes, a real kiss... She wanted that, too.

  With a subtle pressure, he tipped her face up. She didn’t resist. Why would she?

  “Like you mean it,” he added.

  That jerked her gaze to his, and she caught something in his expression that challenged everything feminine in her. Doubt. He didn’t think she’d do it, she realized. He probably thought she was too prim, too proper, too much on the shelf to kiss a man. He probably assumed she didn’t even know how. He probably thought he was scaring her. With a shake of her head, she leaned back and smiled.

  He had another think coming. Ace Parker was one heck of an inspiration.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HE WAS TOO old and too experienced to shudder at the touch of a woman’s hand, any woman’s hand, but when Petunia’s settled as light as thistledown against his chest, Ace did just that. Desire started deep in his gut and climbed upward right along with her fingers, rolling like thunder through his resistance, making a mockery of the dare he’d laid before them. This wasn’t a game. This was real. And he didn’t want it. Not the desire. Not the weakness. Not her.

  But it didn’t matter what he didn’t want as her skirts swished about his ankles, and her weight leaned against him in sweet enticement. He wanted her, had since the first moment he’d seen her step off the stagecoach two months ago, self-contained, graceful, elegant. A lady. The one thing he could never have.

  “You’re going to have to bend down.”

  The soft whisper joined the thunder, adding to the volume. Her hands slid up his chest, tucking behind his neck. Lightning flashed on the edges of his control. She tugged. He didn’t go. That wasn’t who he was, how he’d allow it to be between them.

  Sliding his hand down the delicate line of her back, he demanded, “Why?”

  He wanted it put into words, to hear it from her lips. She blinked up at him, confusion and desire deepening the blue of her eyes. “For that kiss you wanted.”

  Who did she think she was kidding? This wasn’t about any goddamn deal. This was about the attraction that neither of them wanted. This was about them. As natural as his next breath one hand settled into the hollow of her back. The other, her shoulder. She was tall. She fit his embrace as if she were made for it. Fit his hands as if she were made for them. His voice rasped from his throat, more growl than seduction. “Ask me nicely.”

  He felt the tremor that shook her head to toe, but it wasn’t fear that had her pupils dilating and her tongue sliding over her lower lip in soft pink enticement. His cock thickened painfully within the restriction of his pants.

  “Please...” She cleared her throat. He adjusted his stance. “Please, lean down.”

  Knives couldn’t cut more cleanly than that simple compliance. The barrier he kept between them tore free in the aftermath. His fingers slipped down her arm, chaining the delicacy of her wrist between his fingers while he urged her closer. The soft plea whispered like a siren’s song in his head, bringing forth the side of him he kept hidden. She watched him carefully as he brought her hand down between them. He liked her eyes on him. Her world narrowed to him. Her other hand naturally followed the first.

  “That’s it,” he whispered as her fingers spread over his heart. “Feel me. Feel what I want.”

  “A kiss.”

  “Yes.” Yes, he wanted a kiss. A kiss was a beginning to so much more.

  A kiss could be everything. He leaned down, but not so far she didn’t have to stretch that delectable body up the length of his. Her hands against his ch
est kept him from feeling the fullness of her breasts, but he could imagine how they’d feel in his hands, hard-tipped and delicate just like her. Her hand slipped down into his. Curling his fingers around hers, he pressed it to his chest, struggling with the want to press her closer, the utter need to drag her hands overhead, to pin her with his hands and body, to kiss her until the walls she’d built so well came tumbling down, and there was just him and her and the truth between them. Until she gave him what he needed.

  Surrender.

  Ace gritted his teeth, loosening his grip, controlling the wild impulse, forcing himself back to even breaths, to what was.

  Pet was a good woman, not a whore. She was going to kiss him to pay a debt that wasn’t even hers because she thought it was the only way to save a boy. Fuck. He was a bastard. He took a step back. She went with him, following as naturally as he could desire. His good intentions took a hit. Before he could regroup, her lips touched his, and that fast, all thoughts of right or wrong drowned under a wave of lust so strong, it stole his breath. Her lips parted, catching it, linking them in a moment fraught with danger. With promise.

  Why? he asked silently. Why this woman? Why now?

  The answer came in her soft moan as her lips nibbled at his. Because she wanted him. And lust didn’t need any more explanation than the proximity of two compatible bodies. Or so he told himself as her lips moved gently against his, untutored but determined, always so determined, this woman. Tilting her lance against the windmills, needing to make a difference, too naive to realize that no matter what she did, nothing ever really changed. Except this. This kiss changed everything. And she didn’t even know what she was inviting.

  It was a fleeting pressure, surprisingly soft, surprisingly sweet. A kiss just like he’d asked for. But not what he wanted. And damn, if this was all he was ever going to have, he was going to have it the way he wanted. Cupping Pet’s skull in his hand, Ace forestalled her escape with the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her neck. He expected struggle, but she didn’t move, just stood there looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were heavy lidded and ripe with the question within. The perfect picture of a woman enthralled. Everything inside him perked. It was a struggle to find his voice.

  “The deal was a real kiss, a kiss like you meant it.”

  She blinked. “That’s how I kiss when I mean it.”

  She couldn’t be that green. Not at her age with her bold manner. “No one kisses like that when they mean it.”

  She blinked at him again, and he realized that maybe she really was that naive. Maybe that pressure-on-pressure kiss was, to her, boldness itself. If that was the case, it was a damn shame. Pet was a woman of passion, and no woman of passion should go through life thinking that casual contact constituted lust, certainly not any woman that kissed him. If Pet was going to walk away from him today and tell someone tomorrow that she got Ace Parker to do what she wanted by kissing him, it was going to be a goddamn kiss that both of them remembered fondly.

  “I’ve seen your serious, my Pet, and that wasn’t it.”

  “My name is Petunia.”

  How the hell she managed to stick that aristocratic nose in the air while in his embrace, he had no idea, but she managed it. It ticked him off more than her My name is Peturnia, and to you, Miss Wayfield amused him.

  “I prefer Pet.”

  Licking her lips, she stepped to the side, away from the wall. “You make me sound like a dog.”

  “Oh, you’re much more valuable than a dog.”

  Her “Gee, thanks” made him smile. As did the little wiggle she did for freedom. He let her smooth her skirts and tug on that tight jacket that made the most of her curves before spreading his fingers across her nape and tickling the sensitive skin. She shivered. He did it again. No shiver this time, but the sharp intake of breath was even more satisfying. It said she was still aware of him.

  He took a step forward, and she took a step back in a now-familiar dance. He turned slightly, angling in with his body so that the wall was behind her again. The image of her standing there, arms pinned above her head, helpless in his arms while he ravished her mouth, wouldn’t leave his mind.

  Once again her hand pressed against his chest. But this time in denial. Raising an eyebrow at her, he pointed out the obvious.

  “If you want me to give up my winnings to a man who doesn’t deserve it, I’m going to want more than that quick peck.”

  “You’re not giving it up for a man. You’re giving it up for a boy.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot of money. You’re a fool if you think I’m giving it back for a kiss my grandmother might give me.”

  Her nails bit slightly through the fabric of his shirt in irritation. His cock throbbed. He wanted her.

  “I’m not a fool,” she growled.

  No, she wasn’t. She was just doing what she could because she didn’t think anybody else cared, and maybe they didn’t. It was easy to forget about the people that lived on the edge, he knew. He’d been forgotten about most of his life. But the one thing good about living on edges is that it made a body tough.

  “Did you ever think that growing up as he is might work for Terrance as an adult?”

  The shake of her head was immediate. “He’s a scholar not a fighter.”

  “You said he was eight.”

  “Some things you can just tell.”

  Ace sighed. “And you want to save him.”

  She didn’t even try to deny it. “He’s a bright child, too bright for such a future.”

  A do-gooder to the core. “You can’t control everything.”

  “No, but I can give him this chance.”

  He backed her up another step, controlling her movement with his body and his fingers on the back of her neck. And she went, as soft and as sweet as if she knew what he needed. He tucked the information away, even though he knew he shouldn’t. This was one woman with whom he couldn’t play his games, a good woman. Too good for him, which was why he had no business taking that last step that brought her back up against the wall. But he took it anyway.

  “What are you doing?”

  He smiled at the question. “Taking my kiss.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to say it.”

  “You don’t even know what it is!”

  He liked the fire indignation put in her eyes. He liked to bring the fire out in her. Liked to know he could make her burn when others only left her cold.

  Pressing his lips against her forehead, he said quietly, “I know. Now, come here.”

  She did. Spreading his legs so she was trapped between them, he leaned down until his chest pressed against hers, and he could feel the tips of her breasts poking into his shirt. Those nipples could have been hard because the air was cooling, or they could be hard because she found him as attractive as he found her. Ace leaned in a little farther, testing his resolve, teasing his desire. She didn’t back up, couldn’t back up, and that only tempted him more. She was imprisoned between his body and the wall, helpless, and that little catch in her breath as he bent his head, his shadow blocking the sun from her eyes, just brought all of his lust to the fore. His cock hardened to the point of pain; his heart picked up its beat.

  When his mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers, he murmured, “This time kiss me like you know what you’re doing.”

  He wasn’t at all surprised with the immediate “I know how to kiss.” His Pet was a fighter. Smiling into her eyes, he gave her something to hold on to.

  “Prove it.”

  * * *

  DEAR HEAVENS, HE wanted her to prove it. Staring up into Ace’s light blue eyes, searching for sanity, Petunia only found more temptation than an on-the-shelf woman should be forced to confront. Honest to goodness curl-her-toes and burn-her-rep
utation-in-perdition temptation. And it was harder to resist than any sermon preached. Because it felt so good. Surrounded by Ace’s arms, his scent, his heat, she found it amazingly easy to imagine succumbing to her baser instincts, to wallow in the sheer pleasure of his weight against her, to tempt him the way Eve had tempted Adam. Except she wanted to offer Ace so much more than an apple. And she wanted him to take it. All of it. Everything she could give. The fact that he would wasn’t the scary thing it should have been.

  She was sure she wasn’t the first woman that Ace had wanted. His conquests littered the town. But he might just be the only man who’d ever truly wanted her. Not to prove a point. Not to gain access to her family’s power or money, but because she was a woman he found attractive. Her fingers curled into his chest. The immediate hitch in his breathing padded her confidence. Inside, she started smiling. He really did want her.

  Prove it.

  For the skip of a heartbeat, she didn’t know if she could. She was a spinster. A suffragette. A scholar. What did she know of kissing the socks off a man? As if sensing her panic—which was silly since she hadn’t given any outward sign of her distress—Ace nudged her thigh with his knee.

  “Want me to bend down?”

  His voice, deeper than normal, rasped like velvet over her senses. And she wanted more. Tempting Ace Parker was madness, it was foolishness, it was reckless, but she’d already given herself an excuse. She’d made a deal, and no Wayfield ever reneged on a deal. And all she had to do to hold up her end was to kiss him like she meant it, and suddenly that didn’t seem so very hard. There was so much she could imagine doing with this man. He might be a reprobate, he might be a gambler, but he was the only man in her recollection who could make her feel like a schoolgirl and forget her morally correct upbringing. He was, quite frankly, her one chance to feel what other women felt so easily. To give what other women found so easy to give. To be who she always thought she could be.

  That did not mean, however, that she was ready to just roll over. When he tried to pull closer, she shook her head. She shouldn’t have found the cock of his eyebrow endearing, but she did.