Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  The tightness in her expression eased some and she finally laughed. “Now that’s a career I haven’t tried. I could see my uncle’s face now if I told him I decided to dance on stage. He’d never appreciate how much acrobatic talent and strength it takes for those dancers to get up on a pole.”

  “That’s something I admire about you. You don’t judge others. Maybe you should consider becoming a politician.” Realizing what he said, he shook his head. “Ignore that. I didn’t mean to offer you any suggestions on a career.”

  A long second passed and then she crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess I shouldn’t assume you’re like the other men who had something to gain through my uncle. I know it was a crazy accusation.”

  He averted his gaze, feeling his chest tighten. He could—should—tell her the truth. Would she get mad? “Trust me when I say, I wouldn’t use you to get to your uncle.” That was the truth too. He wouldn’t hurt her. When he’d agreed to do this, to stay with her, he’d also agreed that he’d protect her even if that meant putting his own life at risk. Over the course of the last few days, he was learning a lot about her and his opinion was quickly changing from the first time he saw her step out of the elevator heading to her apartment. She was spoiled, yes, but he’d been wrong about her in many ways. Mostly that she was cold. Nothing about her could be described as cold.

  She dropped her arms to her sides and heaved a sigh that made her shirt tighter around her beasts. “It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be part of the family of a politician running for president. That’s why I agreed to work at his campaign. I thought…well, I really did think I could help him and stay in line. And look what happened.” She threw up her hands. “I witness a murder.”

  “That’s not your fault.” He took a step toward her.

  “Then why do I feel like it is? Why do I feel like they want me to pretend I didn’t see what I saw so I don’t upset the campaign?”

  “I’m not sure who ‘they’ are in that statement, but I truly believe your Uncle wants to protect you. I think it must be hard when you’re trying to satisfy family and thousands of voters while having his team breathing down his neck telling him what’s best.”

  “Great. At least you can see Uncle Brent’s point of view.” She turned and started to blow out another candle when Cox covered the distance and placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her around to face him. Shock spread over her beautiful face.

  “Do you ever stop doing that?”

  “What?”

  “Getting angry with people to keep them at a distance. I don’t know who has hurt you, but we’re not all the same.”

  “You don’t know anything about me. Before you start analyzing someone else’s life you should evaluate your own. You can’t tell me that scowl that’s become a permanent fixture on your lips is just the way you look.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “I know you didn’t kill your unit. What happened there…it was a tragedy, but you’re still alive. You’re doing so much to help others.”

  “I’m warning you. Don’t go there…” He pushed a ragged hand over his jaw, still getting used to not having a beard.

  “Or what? You’ll walk away and leave me stranded here alone?” One thin brow quirked.

  “No. But I think I know how to get you to stop talking.” He clutched a handful of her T-shirt and pulled her close. He held her gaze a mere breathless second before he threaded his fingers into her hair, sending the mass from the topknot bouncing to her shoulders.

  “Cox—”

  “Don’t talk.”

  “Cox—”

  “Fine!” He crushed his mouth over hers. At first the act was a release of his torment, but quickly he eased up and the kiss became something different. Sweet and caressing. Gentle yet demanding. He explored the plumpness of her lips, relishing the sweet tart flavor. Then once again the kiss changed and he devoured her, taking what she offered, dipping his tongue into her purity. She opened to him, leaning in closer and clamping her fingers on his biceps. Would she push him away? Would she allow logic to separate them? The groan that escaped her told him the binds that held her unraveled and drifted away. Her hands slid upward, her arms wrapping around his neck, pressing her firm breasts against his chest. He entwined his fingers in her soft, luxurious hair, tangling the silken threads around his knuckles, holding her head steady as he pushed his tongue deeper. She melted in his clutch and he wanted to keep her safe. The simple act of relinquishment made him hard and needy. All warning bells sounded, but he closed the door to caution. All that mattered was that he wanted her, and she wanted him.

  Her hands swept down his chest, to his stomach then to the towel that he felt loosen on his hips. A sudden burst of air brushed over his thighs but didn’t lessen the rigid length of his erection.

  She was hungry and wasted no time in getting what she wanted.

  He chuckled against her lips. “Now remember. I’m a gentleman, but I’m not a saint. Don’t tease me.”

  “I’m not a tease, Cox. I thought you’d realize that by now.” She took a short step back, reached for the hem of her shirt and dragged it up and off her bare breasts. They were as firm and beautiful as he imagined they would be. Her nipples were large, pink buds and like a flower they blossomed under his attention. With a desperate growl, he reached out and touched the milky cup, kneading the perfect mound in his palm. Her tongue swept over her bottom lip and his body responded in such a way that he almost lost his balance.

  “I want to taste you.” He lowered his mouth to sample the erect offering of one nipple. Suckling, he enjoyed her moans and the slight, playful arching of her slender back—her fingers digging into his shoulders. If she was this receptive to his touch on her breasts, how receptive would she be once he got to the best—tastier—part.

  As he lavished his attention on her breasts, he slipped his fingers to the band of her shorts and untied the delicate ribbon at the waist. Sliding his hand inside, he skimmed his fingertips over silk and lace, met with a steamy, damp warmth. His fingers found her center and she quivered in his hold. She was ready and he was hard enough to drill through cement, but his destination would be welcoming and soft, a place that made a man feel like a king. He guaranteed her body would take him to places he’d never been but had always wanted to explore.

  Pushing the silk aside, he buried his finger in the satin folds. She moaned in pleasure, a sound that made the last strands of doubt wither. Damn! He couldn’t hold back. He’d never been this sensitive—never wanted something so bad he could bust through a wall to get to it.

  And when her hand found the hard proof of his insanity, she wrapped her fingers around his girth, stroking him like she played angelic music from a cello, bringing him to a point of blurred vision and a need to lose himself forever. There wasn’t a second to waste. If he wanted to feel her, he’d have to move quickly otherwise he was going to have some explaining to do. She’d expect more and he wanted to give her more.

  Easily lifting her, he took the five steps to the edge of the bed and dropped her. Her sweet little body bounced—and so did her beautiful breasts. With urgent hands, he dragged her shorts and panties down her long, lean legs, hearing seams rip in his haste. Giving the unwanted a toss over his shoulder, he heard the crashing of glass on the floor.

  “Oops. I hope that wasn’t expensive.”

  “No one will ever know.”

  He roved his hungry gaze from her quivering breasts, flat stomach to the apex of her inner thighs. There he found a patch of crisp red hair and his question was answered. She was a true redhead. And he liked that she wasn’t completely shaven. He touched the patch of soft hair and swirled the tip of his fingers through the silken mass. “Beautiful. Amazing. God, you’re so beautiful.”

  “And so are you.” Her gaze slowly took a path down his naked body and stayed momentarily on the rigid hard shaft that stood straight now.

  “I have to run into my bedroom.” Shi
t! He needed a condom.

  “Run fast. Move it!” she urged, laughing.

  At her pressure, and his dire need, he raced down the hall, squinting at the pain of moving when he was so hard. His balls screamed, but he had to hurry. When he came back with the important packet, he ripped off the foil with his teeth, spit out the excess paper and hurried to roll the protection up and over his still hard shaft.

  Prepared and protected, he met her on the center of the bed and she spread her legs, welcoming him. Swiping his finger along her moist inner thighs, he found her ready. Her juices were like the nectar of gods and he wanted a taste but if he didn’t have her soon, he’d shoot his wad.

  Lowering his hips, he pressed his tip against her opening, easing himself into the tight channel. Her muscles clenched him in a heavenly grip.

  He took things slowly, not wanting to hurt her and managing the rush of prickles that evaded his body. He sucked in a breath, clenched his teeth, grinding them as he forced himself to pull back slightly. He’d never been this out of control.

  When she lifted her hips, ever so slightly, wrapping her body tighter around his erection, he was a goner. All he could do was go with the flow, pounding his hips, pelvic bones meeting pelvic bones, limbs entwining, moans floating and meeting.

  She arched her back and cried out—a wild moan that vibrated his bones as he felt her muscles grip him in the most erotic sense of pleasure.

  Then he released his own fury of release.

  And then together they lay spent.

  Minutes passed until they pulled apart. He slipped onto the bed and dragged her into the nook of his arm, kissing the top of her head. He inhaled her, filling his lungs and his brain.

  “I feel like quiet a dick,” he whispered next to her ear.

  “Why?” She placed her hand on his sweaty chest.

  He liked that she didn’t mind him being sweaty. A lot of women didn’t want to cuddle after.

  “I should have gone slower.” He tightened his arms around her. There was something special in holding her. She fit so perfectly beside him. How did this happen? Hell, he knew how. There was a fine line between love and hate and they’d pushed the line. Now here they were. Neck deep in something that wouldn’t go away after one romp in bed.

  Tomorrow, he’d think about the trouble they were in, but tonight, well, he wanted to hold her. Pretend they didn’t have the world against them. That she wasn’t a rich congressman’s niece and he wasn’t a damaged man who’d witnessed stuff she could never dream of seeing.

  “I didn’t want you to go slower. Any slower and I would have detonated.” She kissed his chest. Such a simple act that carried a lot of emotion.

  “Good.” He reached down, slid off the condom and gave it a toss onto the floor to get later.

  Would there be a second round? What would a woman like her see in a man like him?

  Sure. They’d just shared amazing sex, but outside of that what did they have? Nothing.

  He wasn’t looking for a relationship and didn’t care.

  What he wanted was for Noleen to follow through and help Cris.

  That was separate from what he and Hazel shared. Wasn’t it?

  Why did he doubt that she’d see it that way?

  Maybe he should come clean? Clear the air. Wouldn’t she understand? “Hazel, I—”

  She lifted on her elbow and looked at him. Her lashes caressed her freckled cheeks. Her hair was a mass of wild curls framing her lovely heart shaped face. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses. Her breasts were exposed, and she didn’t seem to mind. He liked when a woman had confidence in her body. However, all his logic and words were lost somewhere between swollen lips and hard nipples. He certainly was a man and proved the fact that a woman could make a man think with his dick.

  Now what had he planned to say?

  “Let’s pretend that this…” She pushed a hand through the air. “Didn’t happen. It can only make things messier. I don’t like messy. I made a promise to my uncle when he decided to run for presidency that I’d be in his corner. I wouldn’t stir up the rumor mill.” She slid from his hold and reached for the discarded towel, wrapping it around her body.

  What the hell?

  So much for enjoying the night.

  He had a feeling he was being paid back for all the quick exits he’d made after sex with women he barely knew. So this was what it felt like to be rejected? He didn’t like it much.

  Pulling up the invisible wall, he swiped a hand down his jaw and shrugged. “I agree. Let’s just chalk it up to the fact that we’re stranded on this fucking mountain.” He watched her blow out the remaining candles. The edge of the towel lifted high on her bottom and his mouth salivated. Hell, who was he kidding. He was lying through his teeth about “agreeing” and “being on the mountain”. Even now, he wanted her again…and again. He wanted to sample every inch of her with his tongue and pick her brain with questions. His body hardened, not that it had deflated entirely. He covered up the evidence with the blanket. When a woman told a man to pretend they didn’t make love, she meant that she got what she wanted and there wouldn’t be a second chance.

  She was wearing what he liked to call a “gratification smile”, but it didn’t quite reach her gaze that was on him. He wanted to jump out of bed and grab her up, bend her over the bed and take her, but he wasn’t one to run for any woman. She’d made her decision. Unfairly, yes, but still…

  He stayed in bed and kept his thoughts hidden under the blanket.

  She stared.

  Then he realized this was her bed and she expected him to leave.

  Oh yeah. He was being paid back for his past.

  Sweeping the blanket away, thankful that his dick had taken the hint, at least partially, he reluctantly climbed from the rumpled sheets. He had nothing to put on so she’d have to deal with his birthday suit just as he would.

  He grabbed the used condom and strolled toward the door.

  At the threshold he confidently looked back at her. She was watching him, her bottom lip tucked demurely between her bottom lip. She looked beautiful. Sexy. And forbidden. What the hell had he been thinking?

  “See you in the morning,” he said and took his walk of shame to his room. He was being kicked out of her space.

  Inside his bedroom, he didn’t bother putting on clothes but instead slid between the silk sheets and stared at the ceiling.

  Eventually, sometime well after midnight, sleep finally came, but his dreams were intertwined with images of the woman who had him unwittingly spellbound.

  Chapter 15

  The cabin was quiet.

  Hazel looked for Cox, but he wasn’t there, and her chest twisted. Had he left? After last night she wouldn’t blame him.

  They’d crossed a line, and she’d made a huge mistake.

  If him leaving her bed last night had been the best thing then why did she feel so…what? Sad? Alone? Empty inside?

  Truth was, the emotion she’d felt during their lovemaking had scared her. And then she’d impulsively reacted.

  So had he left her?

  Then she saw the note attached to the refrigerator.

  She read it aloud…

  “I went to check out the perimeter. I should be back shortly. C.”

  Short and sweet…or rather not so sweet. Or was she transferring her sensitivity onto his note? Once he was back, they’d need to have a long conversation.

  She was about to take the first sip of her much-needed coffee when she heard a scraping sound on the front door.

  Looking through the peephole, she saw no one. Opening the door, she saw Cox’s footprints as well as a smaller set. A dog’s prints.

  She investigated the snow, shivering as the cold bitter wind swept over her. She started to close the door when she heard a soft whimper. Boxy jumped onto the porch, his fluffy tail wagging, his fur covered in snow, with his tongue lopping from side to side.

  “Boxy? What are you doing here, boy?” She patted his head th
en stepped out to look for his owner. She saw no one.

  “Did you run away again? You’re far away from home.”

  The dog just stared, showing his teeth as if he smiled.

  “Come on. Come inside.”

  He obeyed and she quickly closed the door against the cold. She examined Boxy and he wasn’t hurt, although his poor paws were ice cold. “It’s not safe with you galivanting out in this weather, Boxy.” He continued to stare.

  If only she knew what he was trying to tell her.

  “Are you hungry?” He followed her into the kitchen where she found a few leftover slices of bacon. “When Cox gets back, we’re taking you back home.” She waved a finger, but the dog continued to eat hungrily. “Wow. You were hungry.”

  When the slices of bacon and bowl of water were gone, she called him to sit with her in front of the fire that she started. “I hope Cox comes back, Boxy.” The dog whimpered and spread his upper body over her lap. “I think I made a mistake. Look at me, I’m talking to a dog as if you can give me answers.”

  Minutes turned into an hour.

  She was growing antsy. And worried. What if something happened to Cox?

  Hazel needed to get Boxy home.

  “I guess I’m going to have to take you back myself. You stay here while I grab my coat and boots. Got it, Houdini?”

  Once she was dressed, she and Boxy left through the back door and into the shed. One of the snow mobiles was gone as expected. “Come on, boy.” She patted the seat of the second snow mobile.

  He didn’t make a move but hung his ears and tail.