Skin

by Karin Tabke

  His chest tightened. He’d run every conceivable scenario through his brain, trying to convince himself Frankie was innocent. And even though his heart told him it was ludicrous, the evidence added up too neatly. And after he couldn’t deny the evidence, he’d even tried to justify a way in his mind of taking her and running away. Going somewhere where they could live together, where the world would never find them. But as much as he wanted her in his life, he couldn’t, wouldn’t go against what he believed. His convictions.

  She was a criminal and it was his job to put her away.

  Midas always told him it was a man of character who stood for something and one who lacked character who fell for everything. Reese could never live with himself if he ran off with Frankie.

  He choked back a dry laugh. Like she would even want him. She was good. The best. And also the hardest lesson he’d learned as an adult. One he would never forget.

  She moaned softly. He bent down and kissed her lips. He drew back and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Are you Prince Charming?”

  He wished he was. That would make her Cinderella, and they’d live happily ever after.

  “No, babe, just a guy.”

  She reached up to his cheek and touched him. “What happened?”

  “You fell off your horse,” he said, and brushed a leaf from her hair.

  Frankie closed her eyes and moaned again. “I knew I shouldn’t have…” Her eyes flew open, then narrowed.

  So, she remembered. He sighed. It would have been perfect if she had amnesia. How could a jury convict her of a murder she couldn’t remember? Wouldn’t matter. As long as they had the proof, she’d be on death row in less than a year.

  Frankie pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Why not?”

  She rolled her eyes and winced, then squinched her eyes shut. “Your girlfriend might have a problem with it.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Her eyes flashed open, accusing. “Well, then, your whatever Amy is.”

  “Frankie, I haven’t touched Angie since we were in high school.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I don’t lie to you.” He inwardly cringed.

  “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t lied to me since we met?”

  He paused a second too long before he answered. “Yes.”

  “You’re lying again.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not lying about Angie.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.”

  The breeze picked up a lock of her hair and he brushed it from her eyes.

  “It matters to me that you believe me about her, Frankie.”

  With his help, she sat up. She rubbed the back of her head and looked slowly around. “Tell me why you don’t like this place.”

  He felt the blood drain from his cheeks. The last thing he wanted to tell her was the truth. But, his reason said, if you tell her the truth she will feel closer to you, more trusting, and that, he decided, would equal information. It was time to take off the gloves and play for keeps.

  “My sister died here.”

  Frankie gasped. “How?”

  “I killed her.”

  He almost smiled at her shocked expression. Didn’t killing your own father rank up there with killing your baby sister?

  “What happened?”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. The ugly scene played out like it was yesterday. He didn’t think even for a conviction he could replay it in his head and talk about it.

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Surely, Reese, what happened was an accident. You could never kill someone you loved.”

  He smiled grimly. “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.”

  She looked hard at him. “I suppose in the heat of the moment we can all do things we wouldn’t normally do.”

  “Sometimes it comes down to survival.”

  “Does your father blame you too?”

  He felt his face freeze. He rose. “I don’t speak to him.”

  “Maybe you should. Clear the air.”

  “If your father was still alive, would you clear the air with him?”

  Anger flashed across her face, then blankness. “I was dead to my father. When he made that abundantly clear to me, the feeling, at least at the time, was reciprocated.”

  “That about sums up me and my father.”

  “At least you have a chance. Your father is still alive.”

  “No more chances, Frankie, I can’t erase the past.”

  She nodded and softly said, “You’re right, the past cannot be fixed.”

  Gently he helped her up, her words echoing like a death knell in his ears. While he still struggled with his father’s rejection, Frankie dispassionately dismissed hers. Coldness infiltrated his heart.

  Reese watched her try to get her bearings. It took her a moment to get her sea legs. He grabbed her arm and steadied her. “You can’t ride alone.”

  He gathered Rosie’s reins and drew Frankie toward Zorro. “C’mon, let me help you up.”

  She didn’t argue. After he got Frankie safely mounted, he hopped up behind her. She sat rigidly in front of him. He bent his lips to her ear. “Relax, I won’t bite.”

  He wrapped his left hand around her waist and pulled her against him. He smiled when she relaxed against his chest. She was so good at her act he almost fell for it — again.

  He wanted to be angry, he was angry, but a deep sadness took a tighter hold. Just when he begins to feel again, he gets played. His right hand, holding the reins to both horses, tightened into a fist. He worked it open and closed. His left arm inadvertently tightened around her waist.

  “Oww,” she complained.

  The urge to lash out at her became overwhelming.

  “You know, Frankie, we’re more alike than you might think.”

  She turned slightly and looked up at him. “How so?”

  “We’re both oldest siblings. Our fathers could give a rat’s ass about us. We’re both in the same business, just on opposite sides.” He almost laughed at that one. It was so true. “And —” he nuzzled her throat with his nose, inhaling her unique scent — “we really dig fucking each other.”

  Knowing she was going to die by lethal injection didn’t hamper his dick. It swelled at the thought of diving deep into her. He loved the way her pussy smelled, all hot and musky, the way it got slick with anticipation, the way her muscles milked him dry.

  He loosened his hold on her waist and brushed a thumb against her hardening nipple. He nibbled her earlobe and felt her body shiver. “Yeah, even if you denied it, your body tells the story.” He bit down on her earlobe and she cried out. “There are just some things, Frankie, you can’t hide. Eventually you get found out.”

  His hand crushed her breast and she arched against him. “I forgot, you like it rough.” He pushed his hips against her back, digging his erection into the small of her back. “I like rough too, the rougher the better.”

  She turned halfway around, her lips parted, the spark in her eyes challenging. She slid an arm around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers. When his arm clamped harder on her breast, she pushed harder against his chest. Her teeth cut into the tender flesh of his lip. Reese growled and jerked his head back. He licked the blood from his bottom lip. “You’re going to pay for that.” He cupped her head in his hand and crushed his mouth over hers. Her soft whimpers spurred him on. He wanted her to feel something genuine for him, even if it was pain. He wanted payback and he would get it through her body.

  He released her, and she panted hard, her warm breath penetrating his shirt. When she raised her mouth to him again, he yanked her back by a hank of her hair. “No, Frankie, this time it’s on my terms.”

  The ride back to the ranch house was silent. Frankie’s pride wouldn’t allow her to demand Reese put an end to the hot throb between her legs. Her pussy screamed for his touch and yet she couldn’t bring herself to beg.
She had a modicum of pride left.

  Frankie was off Zorro before they came to a complete stop. As she headed for the house he called to her, “You have two hours. Then I’m coming for you.”

  His words sent a thrill through her so electric Frankie thought if she so much as touched herself, she’d come right there in the dirt. A vision of Reese’s sweat-slicked body dominating her, making her beg for him, flashed before her. Totally surrendering to the man would be the ultimate turn-on.

  After taking a couple of aspirin for a dull headache, no doubt initiated by her tumble, Frankie tried to take a nap. Her mind refused to quiet, so she took a long, hot shower. It was all she could do in the shower not to touch herself. She wanted to give it all to Reese. She wanted him to take it. After she made him wait.

  She showered then pain-stakingly rubbed lotion over every inch of her skin, blow-dried her long hair and applied a light round of makeup. While she didn’t have much to choose from in the clothes department, she decided one of Reese’s button-down denim shirts would be a nice change. When she padded down the hall into his room, she noticed how silent the house was. Had he showered? Was he even in the house? Finding the shirt she wanted, she put it on. No bra, but she decided she’d make him work, so she put on a pair of thong panties.

  Glancing at the clock, Frankie noted two hours and ten minutes had passed since she had seen Reese. Where was he?

  The sun had long sunk behind the craggy mountains. Low lights illuminated her way downstairs to the kitchen. An open bottle of cab aired on the counter. Obviously someone had been inside since she went upstairs. She smiled and poured herself a small glass. Her stomach quivered and her body simmered with anticipation.

  Another ten minutes passed and she looked at her empty glass. She poured another one, and instead of feeling all warm and fuzzy, she was angry.

  She wasn’t some sex-starved bimbo waiting for Reese to snap his fingers for her to drop and spread her legs. She opened the door to the back porch and looked over at the barn. His truck was parked where he had left it the night they came in. The barn doors were open and a low glow of light illuminated the building. Where was he?

  She stepped off the porch and walked toward the barn. With the exception of the low nickers of the horses, there was no sound. At the end of the wide aisle a soft light crept from under one of the large enclosed stalls, a slight rustling sound coming from within. She walked toward it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Reese?” Frankie called out. Several low nickers from the four-legged residents answered her. Suddenly she felt foolish for wanting him so bad and looking for him. Was he playing games? She’d had enough of being jerked around by men.

  She almost turned and left the barn, but the heat between her thighs spurred her on. Reese excited her like no other. She wanted him, plain and simple.

  She reached the double stacked door of the last stall, pushed open the door, and caught her breath.

  Softly illuminated by several enclosed lanterns was what she could only call a love nest. An array of blankets covered what she surmised were several bales of hay pushed together to form a bed of sorts. The thick blankets would not only keep the hay from poking and scratching but also add comfort and warmth to the chilly air. Propped up against the far wall of the large box stall was a wide mirror. And sitting on a tripod next to it, a digital camera. Her skin warmed. The thought of them on film titillated her beyond reason. And he knew that. But caution curbed her excitement. Her fantasy would be corporate suicide if those shots ever got out of her hands. On an impulse, Frankie turned to get her camera, somehow feeling less exposed with her own equipment.

  A large, dark body filled the doorway, startling her.

  “Where you going, Frankie?” Reese asked in a low, husky voice.

  Her fear morphed into excitement. “Where do you want to take me?”

  Reese grinned and walked into the stall, closing the doors behind him. Her eyes raked him from head to toe. He wore a lightweight camel-hair sweater, snug-fitting blue jeans, and black ostrich-skin cowboy boots. His legs went on forever, stopping at the bulge beneath his button fly. She licked her lips.

  “Wherever you want to go.”

  He moved into her space and she backed up a half step. His eyes flashed wickedly and she sensed a change in him. He reminded her of a predator, sure of his prey, sure that she could run, sure that she could hide, but confident he would find her and devour her and she would be powerless to stop him.

  He continued into the stall, and she continued backward until the smooth plank of the wall stopped her. She heard a soft click and knew the camera was shooting.

  “Turn that off,” she said.

  “No.” He moved in closer.

  “You can’t —”

  He pressed his finger against her lips. “I can do whatever the hell I want and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

  Frankie hiked back a gasp. He was so intense, so direct, so sexy in his power that her knees wobbled in excitement.

  He pushed her none too gently into the corner of the stall. The straw caught beneath her feet. He grabbed her arms, keeping her from falling.

  “Afraid?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t scare me.”

  “Really?”

  Grabbing a handful of her shirt, he yanked her against him. “Does anyone scare you?”

  She swallowed hard and nearly choked, her throat suddenly dry. “No.”

  He laughed and cupped the back of her head with his right hand. He pulled her roughly toward him. “I guess with your last name there aren’t too many people to be afraid of.”

  “Except those guys who keep shooting at me.”

  He smiled grimly. “Yeah, except those guys.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m lying. You were there.”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  He slid a hand down the front of her shirt, resting it on her left breast. Her heart pounded wildly beneath it.

  “For someone who isn’t afraid, your heart is beating fast.”

  “So?”

  He searched her eyes for the truth and he found only lies. Her hazel eyes were almost emerald green, the golden flecks around her irises bright. Her nostrils flared slightly, like a bitch in heat. His hand closed firmly around her breast.

  He lowered his lips to her cheek. “I want to fuck you until you scream for me to stop.”

  Her body arched into his, her nipple poking the palm of his hand.

  Frankie slid her hands up his arms, lingering on his thick biceps. “And I want to get it all on film,” she said.

  “It’s rolling.”

  “No, my camera.”

  “We use the digital, it has a large-capacity card. I set it for every thirty seconds.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  He gave her a half smile. “Not everything.”

  She cocked an eye at him, then pushed away. “Where did you get it?”

  “I borrowed it from Midas. The man should have stock in Radio Shack, he has so many gadgets.”

  “I keep the chip — no duplicate pictures.”

  Reese grabbed her hand and pushed her back toward the covered bales of hay. “No more talking.” When she moved to protest, he pressed her down onto the soft blankets. “Uh-uh, Frankie. We both get stills.”

  “Reese…”

  He straddled her, grabbed her shirt into each of his hands, and yanked it apart. She gasped as buttons flew across the space, silently landing in the straw and blanket fabric. She raised her hands to cover herself. Reese halted her effort. “No, Frankie, I want to watch your nipples harden.”

  He ran a fingertip across one nipple and nodded as it instantly responded. He smiled devilishly and pulled the rest of the shirt from her body. Before she was aware of what he was doing, he wrapped the sleeve around her right wrist. She frowned. What? Then he picked up her other wrist. She realized wh
at he was doing and tried to jerk away. He laughed, sure of his strength, wrapping the shirt around her left wrist and pulling both wrists together. “No!” She struggled, but her hips pressed against his.

  “I’m in charge now, Frankie, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “I — can’t.”

  He twisted the fabric, tightening it. “Can’t let me tie you up or can’t trust me?”

  “Both.”

  “Your loss.”

  He held her bound hands together over her head, and when she protested again he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She hissed and closed her eyes, arching against his mouth. Heat spread through her limbs, racing to her apex. He took her nipple between his teeth and gently rolled it. His free hand slipped behind her neck and he pulled her up, exposing the soft flesh. His mouth traveled up to the swell of her breast, and he nibbled her. His teeth scraped lightly against her sensitive skin and she moaned.

  “Harder,” she demanded.

  Reese growled and moved up higher, his left hand clamping around her throat, his teeth laving her jugular.

  Slowly the pressure of his fingers increased, and she could hear the pounding rush of her blood in her neck, feel it force its way through her jugular. His thumb rubbed the length of her vein and his teeth sunk into her skin, his lips hot and moist around it. Her body arched harder against him. She wanted penetration; she wanted it hard, fast, and rough. The fantasy of giving up complete control, of having a man totally dominate her, made her wet.

  In her business she called the shots with men; they always sucked up to her. Reese was taking what he wanted and for the first time in her life it was what she wanted too. It did involve a level of trust. She trusted him to know her boundaries.

  Reese grabbed a lead shank hanging from a hook on the stall wall and looped it around the fabric binding her wrists, then fastened it back to the ring. His eyes locked with hers when he stepped back to look down at her.