by Gail Barrett
“How?”
She kept her gaze on the flames. “The usual stuff—calling me names, pushing me around…”
And worse. He could hear the pain in her voice. He locked his jaw around a punch of anger. “You never told me that.”
“There wasn’t any point. He stopped once I learned to stand up for myself.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “And when you and I started dating, he probably knew better than to risk your wrath.”
“You got that right.” He clenched his teeth, sudden fury mixing with guilt. “I should have done something to stop it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
He raised a brow in surprise.
“It would have made me look weaker and encouraged him more.”
“Maybe.” All the same, Tony had a lot to answer for when they got back.
Bethany stepped even closer and laid her hand on his rigid arm. “There’s nothing you could have done, Cole. I handled it myself.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.” No wonder she acted so stoic. When had anyone stuck up for her?
He shook his head, appalled that he’d been so blind. How had he overlooked that meanness in Tony? How had he missed something so fundamental about her? First her need to leave, and now this. Had he been too wrapped up in the steamy sex to see who she really was?
Disgusted with himself, he let out a bitter laugh. “And I thought I knew you so well.”
Her mouth quirked up. A deep, sensual heat flared in her eyes. “You knew me.”
Their eyes locked. Awareness erupted between them, triggering the deep, prowling tension he’d battled to control for days.
He knew her, all right. He knew the hot, sultry taste of her skin, the sleek, moist heat of her lips. He knew her scent, her sighs, the whimper she made at the back of her throat, the dazed look in her pleasure-crazed eyes.
His heart began to pound. Blood pooled low in his groin. And memories flashed through his mind with brutal clarity—her ripe, pouting breasts, her nipples pebbling to invite his touch, the hot, tight feel of her pulsing around him, urging him to carnal bliss.
He reached out, fingered the ends of her long hair, the black silk igniting his nerves. He knew he shouldn’t touch her. They had too much baggage between them. He had to step back, move away before he did something he’d regret.
But her lush lips parted. Her eyes turned luminous in the low light. He slid his hand along her jaw, her soft skin torching his hunger, and stroked his thumb down her silky throat.
“Cole,” she whispered, the hoarse plea eroding his resolve.
Her pulse raced under his thumb. Her soft scent twined around him, trapping him in place. Unable to resist, he plunged his hands through her shiny hair, hauled her into his arms, and slanted his lips over hers.
Her potent mouth held him captive. The staggering feel of her overrode common sense. Warnings bleated through his mind, that this was wrong, senseless, that he would regret breaking his vow. Helpless to stop himself, he skimmed his hands down her shoulders and back, memorizing her contours with his hands. Then he tugged her tighter against him, the thrilling, feminine scent of her laying waste to what little remained of his self-control.
She moaned, and he delved deeper, his tongue mating with hers. Her round breasts pillowed his chest. Her lush hips cradled his. She was heaven, perfect, as enticing as he remembered. The answer to his erotic dreams.
And she kissed him back, her mewling sounds driving him crazy, her hands blazing a trail of lust through his nerves. She fueled a bone-deep craving inside him, torching a need he couldn’t ignore.
Calling on all his remaining willpower, he managed to break off the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath sawing hard in the night. He wanted her under him, over him—any way he possibly could. He wanted to strip off her bulky clothes, expose her ripe, naked body to his gaze. And he wanted to lose himself deep inside her, taking her again and again until he was too damned sated to think.
But he had to stop. There were too many reasons this was wrong. And he was fast approaching the point of no return.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded when he pulled back. Her kiss-swollen lips gleamed in the firelight. Her dark eyes burned into his. “Make love to me, Cole.”
Heat stabbed his loins. His body turned rock-hard. “You’re sure?” he made himself ask.
In answer, she stepped back and slipped off her sheepskin vest. She tugged her turtleneck over her head and stripped off her bra. His gaze fastened on her taut, high breasts, the flat, sleek line of her belly, the enticing indentation of her waist.
His jaw flexed. He made a low, rough growl in his throat. He couldn’t think, suddenly couldn’t remember why this was wrong. He could only watch her, riveted, as she steadily burned him alive.
The wind gusted. Her long, glossy hair slithered over her shoulders, framing her naked breasts. His pulse began to pound. A sweat broke out on his brow despite the frigid air. And he was lost. She called to something primitive inside him, needs he couldn’t resist.
He kicked off his boots and peeled off his clothes, while she made short work of her own. Then she unzipped her sleeping bag, spread it over his, and slipped inside. He dove in after, his heart thundering, and pulled her soft feminine body under his.
His mouth descended on hers. A furious rush of wanting scalded his blood. He gave in to the demands bludgeoning his body, her wild urgency egging him on.
He finally broke the kiss, needing air. His pulse rocketing, he bracketed her face with his hands. And for a long moment he just drank in the sight of her—her dark, slumberous eyes, the delicate sweep of her cheeks. And emotions crowded in on him—yearning, lust, a feral feeling of possessiveness. She belonged right here in his arms.
He feathered kisses over her jaw, down the silky line of her throat, her soft moans filling the air. Then he moved lower, raking his teeth gently over her breasts. He took one sweet tip in his mouth, wringing a long, low groan from her throat. She gripped his hair and tugged him back up.
“Hurry,” she urged, her eyes lost in desire. “I can’t wait.”
He nudged her legs apart with his knees. Then he fitted himself to her warmth, the scent of her provoking a riot of lust in his blood.
She’d given him her virginity. He’d claimed her that day long ago, branding her as his own. She’d surrendered to him, giving herself with an intimacy that went far beyond sex, beyond the mating of their bodies, to a fundamental need.
He entered her in a desperate thrust, the tight, velvet feel of her igniting a savagery inside him, the pleasure so staggering he growled. She was hot, moist, perfect. Everything he’d ever wanted.
And she was his.
She began to move against him. He took her mouth again in a hot, frenzied kiss that obliterated every thought. His heart thudded hard. Hot blood thrummed through his veins. He sank into her welcoming heat, his body picking up the ancient rhythm, needing her in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Bethany,” he groaned, his breathing labored.
He felt her tighten around him. Her muscles bore down, her eyes turning crazed, and then she let out a keening cry.
He couldn’t stop. Completely at his body’s mercy, he made one final thrust, then exploded, a hoarse shout wrenched from his lungs.
For an eternity he didn’t move, the pleasure still pumping through him, his breath ragged in the quiet night. Then he kissed her, long and hard and deep, expressing everything he couldn’t say. Tenderness. Admiration. Desire.
He knew he should feel guilty. He’d had no business making love to Bethany when so much between them was wrong. But it was hard to summon regrets when it felt so incredibly right.
He buried his face in her hair, the tremors slowly ebbing from his body, her warm breath fanning his ear. Wrong or not, he doubted he’d ever get enough of her. She suited him in too many ways to count.
But the world-shattering sex changed nothing. She wouldn’t stay. She belonged in Chicago where she could ma
ke good use of her skills. And he could never go.
Worrying that his weight would crush her, he rolled over, taking her with him, and settled her on top. Then he dragged the sleeping bag over her naked back, protecting her from the encroaching cold.
And for a moment, he acknowledged the longing hovering at the edge of his heart, the desire to hold her forever in his arms. But that was dangerous ground to tread, a place he could never go. He had to keep his emotional distance, just as he’d vowed at the start. He couldn’t fight her battles, couldn’t let himself get involved too deeply and begin to care.
But as she nibbled kisses down his unshaven jaw, sparking another savage rush of desire, he feared that he’d never stopped.
Bethany awoke near dawn, cocooned in glorious heat. Cole lay on his side behind her, his heavy arm draped over her hip, his hard muscles warming her back. Her limbs felt deliciously languid, her body so limp with pleasure she could hardly hold on to a thought.
Except one. She’d made a reckless mistake. Making love with Cole hadn’t solved any problems; it had only made her dilemma worse. She still hadn’t told him about the man who’d tried to kill her. She hadn’t revealed that her father might be harboring secrets about the ranch.
But exactly what could she tell him? Tony’s fierce denial had destroyed her leading theory, throwing her beliefs in disarray. But she knew one thing. If her father did have any role in this, he should come clean and confess it. She’d already misjudged Tony, letting her resentment over his harassment cloud her mind. She couldn’t falsely accuse her father, too.
But what about Cole? He deserved to know the truth. And if he found out later that she’d deceived him…
His hand moved to her breast, the rough calluses teasing her nerves, and she instinctively arched her back. He brushed aside her hair, slid his mouth down the nape of her neck, the sexy rasp of his beard stubble making her sigh.
Wrong or not, she couldn’t resist him. Everything about this man appealed to her—the hard, rugged planes of his face, his utterly carnal kiss, the devastating thoroughness with which he made love. He detonated her senses, taking her to heights she’d never imagined, until he’d reduced her to wanting to beg.
But she couldn’t ignore the irony. The man who electrified her nerves—the only man she’d ever loved—was exactly the one she could never have.
His hand slipped between her legs. Pleasure coiled inside her, the feel so exquisite on her sensitized skin she nearly climaxed at once.
But instead of continuing, he went still. She arched against him, already lost to sensations, her body moistening for his.
But he didn’t move. “Shhh,” he hissed, his urgent tone penetrating the fog of desire. “We’ve got company.”
She froze, the torrid feelings shattered. Her heart catapulted against her rib cage; her senses went fully alert. She skipped her gaze around the shadowed clearing, the trees barely visible in the predawn light. The horses stamped their hooves. Taut silence pulsed in the air.
And fear turned her belly to ice.
How could she have let her guard down? How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, that they had a killer on their heels? And why hadn’t she warned Cole about that truck?
Cole soundlessly began tugging on clothes. She did the same, her throat bone-dry, her hands trembling as she snapped her jeans.
She reached for her rifle next to the bedroll.
Just as all hell broke loose.
Chapter 12
Gunfire erupted around them. A bullet ricocheted off the rocky overhang, shearing chips of stone onto their heads. Bethany lunged for her .22 and racked a round as Cole got off a shot toward the trees.
“Get behind the boulder,” he urged, still firing.
Not unless he went with her. Her pulse running wild, Bethany sighted down the barrel of her rifle and pumped a shot at the pines. Cole rolled to his feet and hauled her upright as more gunfire came from the woods. They dove for cover behind the rock.
The shooting paused. Her heartbeat frenzied, Bethany struggled to catch her breath.
Cole reloaded his weapon, his furious eyes flashing at her. “Why didn’t you run?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By nearly getting killed?”
Not bothering to answer, she chambered a round in her rifle, then peeked from behind the rock. The horses had moved to the edge of the clearing. The trees swayed in the low dawn light. The cold wind gusted, whipping up embers from their campfire and making the pine boughs creak.
“How many shooters are there?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
His jaw like granite, he shot her another scowl. “Two, I think. I’m going to circle around and check. Stay here and cover for me.”
“But—”
“I mean it, Bethany.” His eyes sparked at hers. “Stay behind this rock. Just keep on firing until I get into the woods.”
He rose to a crouch. She stood at the edge of the boulder and aimed her gun toward the trees.
“Now!”
Steeling her nerves, she started firing. Cole sprinted full out toward the horses, then melted into the woods. Once she was certain he’d made it, she ducked behind the rock.
An ominous stillness again descended. Her heart jack-hammered in her throat. Where were their attackers? Why hadn’t they shot back? What if they’d ambushed Cole?
Trying not to imagine the worst, she checked the rounds in her gun. Only two left. She hesitated, then slid her gaze to the saddle bag she’d left by the campfire—containing her extra shells. She hated to leave the safety of the rock, but running out of ammunition could get them killed.
She inhaled and gathered her courage, preparing to dart over and grab the bag. But then a movement in the clearing caught her eye.
She whipped around. A man rushed toward her—his pistol raised. Her heart rocketing, she pumped off a shot at his arm.
He reeled around and staggered backward, then stumbled back into the trees. Her hands trembling, she ejected the spent shell and racked her final round. She didn’t want to kill a man, no matter what his intentions toward her.
But she might not have a choice.
Not wanting to think about that dizzying prospect, she dragged in a shaky breath. Then she shifted her attention to her bag. She had to get those extra shells now.
She sprinted toward the campfire. Shots rang out, hitting the rock face behind her, and she zigzagged to the bag. She scooped it up, skidded back to the boulder, then scrambled behind it again. She hit the ground and gasped for breath.
She was safe—for now. But where was Cole? What was he doing? Had any of those shots been aimed at him?
That thought threatened to unnerve her, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside. Cole couldn’t be hurt. She refused even to think it. No matter what else happened, he had to survive.
Still trembling, she fumbled in her bag for the box of shells. Then she loaded the magazine on her rifle and settled in to wait for Cole.
Seconds ticked past. The wind howled in the trees. She debated going after Cole, but forced herself to stay put. But she couldn’t stem the torrent of guilt. She should have told Cole about her father. She never should have lied about that truck. She’d had no right to keep the truth from him. He could have died.
A twig snapped nearby. Her heart racing, she raised her gun and aimed.
“It’s me,” Cole called out. “I’m coming in.”
She inched out her breath, but kept her rifle trained on the trees to guard against any tricks. But Cole emerged from the forest alone, and she finally lowered her gun.
He strode across the clearing. His eyes connected with hers, and he came to a sudden halt. “What happened?” He rushed the final distance between them. “You’re bleeding.”
Bleeding? She pressed her hand to her temple. Her fingers came away sticky. And suddenly, she was aware of the moisture trickling down her jaw, the dull throb in her scalp.
He gently lifted her chin, angling his h
ead to see. “They shot you.”
“No. I don’t think so.” Surely she would have felt more pain. “A piece of rock must have splintered off and hit me when I ran over to get more shells.”
His hand stilled. His eyes cut to hers. “You did what?”
“I needed more ammunition. I was nearly out. So I ran over to get my bag.”
His jaw worked. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Then he moved his face even closer, his eyes blazing at hers. “I told you not to move. Do you have a death wish?”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“The hell you didn’t. You could have died.”
“So could you.” Their eyes dueled. She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just a scrape, Cole. Nothing major. I’ll bandage it when we’ve got time.”
His jaw still rigid, he looked away. She could tell he was fighting his emotions, trying to keep his temper under control. But she didn’t need him to worry about her.
“Did you see who was out there?” she asked.
He gave a curt nod. “Two men on horseback. No one I recognized. There might have been a third farther off. They’re heading downhill right now, but they could circle back.”
“I shot one in the arm.” She started to tell him the details, but his furious gaze stopped her cold. Better that he didn’t know how close the man had come. “But it might not hold them off for long,” she added.
His mouth turned even grimmer, forming brackets in his unshaven jaw. “We’d better head out before they come back.”
“Right.” She hesitated. “Cole, listen. About the other night, when I went to the library in Bozeman—”
“We’ll talk later. We need to get moving.”
He was right. There wasn’t time for explanations with the killers lurking nearby. But before this ordeal was over, she had to reveal what she knew. She couldn’t withhold the truth with their lives at risk.
While Cole hurried to saddle the horses, she doused what remained of the campfire and threw together their gear. Then she sprang up on Red, keeping her .22 within reach in the scabbard, and took off with Cole up the draw.