Hidden Judgment

by Diane Benefiel

  “If you gave any indication that you could manage the ranch, I’d deed you half right now. I’ve told you that.”

  “I don’t want your fucking charity.”

  “You just asked me for a fucking loan.” Sam had forced himself to reel in the anger. Yelling at Drew would hardly solve their problems.

  “You won’t give me what’s rightfully mine? Fine. But I want a loan against that money. You owe me that much.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m not giving you anything.”

  They’d had variations on that conversation a dozen times and it always ended the same. Last evening had been no different. Drew had stormed off, anger evident in his stomping feet and the slammed door of his truck. He’d sped up the street, the truck fishtailing until he gained control.

  Sam had the fleeting thought that he should give Drew the money and be done with it. He’d spend it on whatever it was he’d wanted the loan for, but unless Sam also gave him a share of the ranch, Drew would be back to repeat the same scenario once the cash was gone. Despite Sam’s issues with Joss Creed, he knew his dad left his estate the way he had because in his own way he’d loved Drew and wanted what was best for him.

  The click of the dogs’ toenails on the wood floor had him looking over his shoulder. Cleo and Tony came in the room ahead of Ellie. He swallowed convulsively, then had to rap his fist on his chest as he coughed.

  Endless legs were covered by second-skin leggings and fed the constant fantasy of her wrapping those legs around his hips. Naked. They’d both have to be naked for that.

  An extra sledgehammer of lust hit him when he took in the white tank top folded up to expose a creamy stretch of skin covering her firm abdominal muscles. The top also showcased toned arms and shoulders, and her deliciously rounded breasts he itched to get his hands on.

  All the edginess of living with her coalesced into a powerful desire he could barely control. He grabbed for the counter to keep from acting on his impulses.

  “Hey, can you replace the bandages? They got wet in the shower.” Ellie’s voice was muffled as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “I got the one on my hand but can’t see to do the ones behind my ear and my back.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ellie. Why didn’t you ask for help? The doctor today told you to keep the bandages dry. Ben told you to keep them dry. You should have listened.” Anger was a much safer emotion than lust.

  “Desire for a shower surpassed concern over wet bandages.”

  She turned and pulled the long fall of blonde hair over her shoulder to give him a clear look at the wound behind her ear. That she also exposed the long column of her neck provided yet one more distraction. She smelled like her soap, fresh and faintly citrusy. He raised hands that weren’t entirely steady to peel off the wet bandage behind her ear.

  “The butterfly strips are holding, so I’m leaving those.” He pressed a square of gauze over the strips and applied tape. It took all his willpower not to bury his nose in the warm skin at the nape of her neck and breathe her in.

  He motioned her across the room, flipped on the light over the table, and sat in one of the chairs. “Stand in front of me and I’ll take care of the cut on your back.”

  Some of what he was feeling must have been communicated to her because for one hot second their gazes clashed and the temperature in the room spiked. She moved to stand between his knees with her back to him while he peeled off the wet bandage.

  He cleared his throat. “Color is healthy, looks like it’s healing.”

  “That’s good.” Her breathy tone didn’t do anything to cool him off.

  His hands spanned her waist as he pressed tape around the clean gauze. The wound was covered, the bandage secure, and yet his hands stayed on the warm skin, his thumbs rubbing slowly. She looked over her shoulder and this time when their gazes clashed, neither looked away. Slowly, she turned under his hands and, without breaking eye contact, straddled him to sit on his lap.

  He closed his eyes as all the blood drained from his head to pool in his groin.

  Her breath was warm against his ear when she whispered, “This is a time-out. I’m declaring myself officially off duty.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Any hold he had on sanity was slipping away. He opened his eyes to stare into the depthless blue of hers. “There are reasons.”

  “They don’t count during a time-out.” She nipped his earlobe and his control snapped with an audible crack.

  Her lips hovered over his, and he used his hands on her back to push her closer.

  Their lips met with an intensity that told him this time neither of them was holding back. Blood heating to boil, he took what she offered in that kiss. Lust, like, love—whatever had been building between them flared with every touch, every murmured word, every sigh. He pulled on her top, mindful of the injury to her back, reluctantly releasing her lips so he could tug the shirt over her head. Her hand fisted in his hair when he used his nose to push aside the cup of her bra.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” His words were spoken with a hushed reverence as he buried his face in her breasts. He cupped one, then the other, nuzzling with his nose until pressing his lips to the deep valley between them. She threw her head back when he used the flat of his tongue to circle an areola, then her nipple. Her ribs quaked at her sharp intake of breath when he pulled the peak deep into his mouth.

  She ground against his erection even as she tugged on the hem of his shirt. He let go of her breast and yanked his shirt over his head, the motion bringing him harder against her. With her heat pressed to his, he swore he could feel warm dampness through the layers of their clothing.

  He bit back an oath and rose to his feet, bringing her with him. He wasn’t making love with her on a kitchen chair. Deeming the beds upstairs too far away, he headed out of the kitchen. She wrapped her legs around his hips, not naked as in his fantasy, but good enough for now. Once again, her hands were in his hair and she was sliding her fingers through, using the pressure to bring his head up.

  With her lips against his, she murmured, “You have the sexiest hair.”

  “Glad you like it.” He boosted her higher, his hands cupping her ass. “Got some weight to you.”

  “Watch it, buster.” She sank her teeth into his neck.

  His swore at the jab of pain. “You watch it. I don’t do vampires. And I like weight on a woman. Almost as much as I like long legs.” He walked them into the shadowy living room, the only light coming from the open door of the kitchen. “Besides, at nearly six foot, you could hardly not have some weight to you.”

  “You’re forgiven,” she murmured, running her tongue over what he was sure would be a bite mark. At the moment, he couldn’t draw the will to care how that would look on a judge.

  He sat on the couch with her still straddling him, and she shimmied down until she was kneeling on the floor between his legs, her hands on the waistband of his workout pants. She rolled down the waistband with an expectant look, like she was unwrapping a birthday present. His erection sprang free and her eyes flashed hungrily.

  “Yeah, baby,” she murmured.

  He’d hardly caught his breath before she’d taken him in her warm, wet mouth, and the incredible surge of pleasure had his eyes rolling straight back in his head. “Oh god.”

  She worked him with her mouth while her hands cupped and kneaded. He felt like he was charging full tilt to the edge of a cliff. That wonderful mouth of hers continued to tease him until his grip on sanity went slippery.

  He reached to pull her up before he plummeted over the edge.

  “My turn.” He nudged her onto his lap, and with an arm around her waist, shifted so she lay beneath him, pulling a cushion under her head. He rose to shuck his pants, then hers and the sexy little scrap of material that passed for underwear.

  He settled between her open legs and took in the glory that was Ellie. She reached for him and he held her off. “Hold still, woman.”

  “Don’t want to hold still.
I want you.”

  “You’ll have me. But I get you first.”

  He started with her toes, nibbling along the arch of her foot, and when she twitched, he grinned. “You’re ticklish.”

  “God, you have a great smile. And to my everlasting shame, yes, I’m ticklish.”

  He moved to her ankle. “I like ticklish. I’m beginning to think I like everything about you.”

  “Ticklish is a weakness when one has brothers.” Her voice had gone throaty as he slid his tongue along the strong line of her shin and dipped into the hollow at the back of her knees. “Jesus, Creed, you’ll bring me to orgasm just licking my knees.”

  “There’s a thought.”

  While he continued his journey with his mouth, he used his fingers to stroke into the wetness of her, finding what made her moan. He followed his fingers with his lips and tongue.

  She clutched his hair tight enough to make him worry that she would leave him with bald patches. He brought her to the brink, heard her breath catch in her throat, then, using tongue and hand, sent her surging over that cliff with a long, keening wail.

  He battled back the nearly overwhelming urge to bury himself in her, slowing down to hold her while she came down from the euphoria.

  She gave a shivering sigh then reached for him. “Come on, come on. I want you. Now.”

  Her words fueled his desperation, had it clawing at his throat. He was poised above her when he reared back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “Don’t say it, do it.”

  “I don’t have a condom. I mean I do, but not on me. Can you stay like this and I’ll be back in thirty seconds? Or twenty, I can make it upstairs and back in twenty seconds.”

  “You disease free?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Yes, and on the pill. You’re not going anywhere, big boy.”

  “Thank god.”

  She gripped his buttocks and he thrust forward, driving deep. Buried fully, he held himself still, the perfection of the moment coursing through him, etching itself in his mind. She tilted her pelvis and urged him on.

  Hands on her breasts, he caught her mouth with his, and they began to move together, slowly at first, then building. The urge was there to let loose and drive blindly into her, but he wanted her with him.

  “Again, baby. Again,” he coaxed with a whisper in her ear.

  He continued to thrust harder, deeper, with more intensity, urging her on, pushing her. Her breath gulped in, then shuddered out, and when once again she was flying apart, he let himself go with her, freefalling over the cliff and not even caring if he crashed.

  They lay together, limbs tangled, neither moving. Sam decided breathing was necessary and turned her with him until they lay face-to-face on their sides. She snuggled into him and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer. He tugged the throw from the back of the couch to cover them both.

  “Much better this time.” Her lips moved against his neck as she spoke.

  The reminder that this wasn’t their first time together had him reaching out an arm to turn on the lamp.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “To see you.” He brushed hair back from her face. “I was an asshole.”

  “You were a young hottie and I didn’t have anything by way of comparison. Not a good recipe for the perfect sexual encounter.”

  “You were a virgin?”

  She nodded.

  “Shit. Did I know that?”

  “No. It was a long time ago, and in retrospect, not that big a deal. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Don’t let me off so easily. It was a big deal, and I was a self-centered asshole.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Look, it wasn’t for lack of trying on your part. But I was inexperienced, and nervous, and couldn’t get there. You were sweet, talked to me. You suggested we could sneak out of the party and walk to a nearby coffee shop.”

  “But we didn’t go to the coffee shop.”

  “No, I was there with a friend who was more than a little drunk. I didn’t want to leave her.”

  Everything inside him froze, the pleasure from the orgasm evaporating. “You said earlier that you’d been drinking that night.”

  “I had.” Even with the light blocked by the back of the couch, she must have read his expression. “Wait, Sam. Don’t go there. I wasn’t drunk, and was completely able to give consent.”

  His shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should have called you.”

  “I understand why you didn’t. It’s not an issue anymore.”

  She made a move to get up and he clicked off the light. “Curtains are open. Let’s not give the neighbors a show.”

  ***

  Ellie plugged in her phone and crawled into bed. Alone. They’d had phenomenal sex, and things had been good between them after, even including the honest discussion about their first time together. But now the ramifications of what they’d done were beginning to prick her conscience.

  Checking in with her team made her feel extra guilty. If Seth knew she and Sam had been together, Seth would yank her from the investigation without a qualm. And rightly so. She’d crossed a line by engaging in a physical relationship with the man it was her job to protect.

  Calling a timeout didn’t change reality.

  Earlier in the evening, still feeling unsettled, she’d sat on one end of the couch with her feet tucked beneath her, absently scanning the news on her iPad. Sam had joined her with his laptop, the horn-rimmed glasses he’d put on to read fanning a hot ember of lust in her belly.

  She’d turned blindly to an article on whether the Federal Reserve would raise the prime interest rate and forced herself to read. Dry economic forecasts didn’t do a thing to redirect her brain because when she’d looked up again his hair had fallen over his forehead, and she’d had to clench her hands into fists to resist the temptation of running her fingers through that lush thickness.

  Determinedly, she’d ducked her head and found another article, this one on Oregon state politics, which was a bit more interesting. Minutes later, she’d glanced up to catch Sam’s gaze on her, his expression difficult to interpret. She’d lifted a brow in question, and he’d shaken his head and turned back to his computer. His posture had gone from relaxed to tense, brows low over his eyes, fingers on his keyboard clicking as he typed. Then he’d risen and, taking his laptop, disappeared into his office. Then she’d gone upstairs.

  She flopped back on her pillow. She wouldn’t analyze his every mood. If he had regrets or some other problem with their relationship, such as it was, well, he wasn’t the only one. What concerned her more was the hunch that he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming about the case.

  A rumble of conversation had her frowning. She sat up, head cocked, trying to locate the sound, and realized Sam’s voice was carrying through the heater ducts. While the words were unintelligible, the angry tone was evident. She slipped out of bed and opened the door, not making a sound in her stocking feet. She paused at the top of the stairs, then crept down until she reached the bottom step.

  Light spilled from the partially open door of Sam’s office. He stood facing the darkened window with the phone to his ear, shoulders rigid. Eavesdropping on Sam’s conversation felt wrong, but the chance that he might reveal information he’d kept from the investigation overrode her conscience. She moved silently across the floor.

  Fury snapped through his voice. “That’s bullshit, you know it is. I told you I’m not giving you anything. If you come near her, if she breaks so much as a fingernail because of you, I’ll rip you apart. Leave her out of it.” He paused, obviously working to measure his tone. “Stop messing with me. You’re making a huge mistake. I’ll meet you again tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

  She froze in the shadows when he crossed the room to close the door with a firm click. The expression on his face had been one of cold rage. The rumble of his voice followed her as she retreated up the stairs to her room.

  Back in bed, she considered what sh
e’d heard. What had he meant by “stop messing with me?” Had he been referring to the email threats? When he’d said to “leave her out of it,” had he been referring to Ellie?

  Had a threat been directed at her?

  ***

  The next morning Ellie rose early, changed into her running gear, and went down the back stairs to the kitchen. A light was burning over the sink. Cleo rose from her cushion, stretching before approaching Ellie, tail wagging. She reached down to rub the dog’s head, then picked up the note left on the counter next to the coffee maker.

  Something came up and I had to leave early. Dogs are fed. Talk to you later. Sam

  She stared at the note, her certainty there was something going on with Sam…something he wasn’t sharing with her was becoming more than a hunch. What would lead him to betray the trust they’d built? The only answer that seemed to fit was his brother.

  Despite their differences, Sam loved Drew and was worried about him. Sam’s words from the previous night echoed through her head. Had he been talking to his brother? If so, then he’d lied to her when he’d insisted that Drew couldn’t be behind the threats against him.

  The light on the coffeemaker was still on, so Ellie poured coffee into a mug, considering her course of action as she sipped the steaming brew. What was Sam willing to sacrifice for the sake of his brother? The sad fact was that nothing in her interactions with Drew, nor what she’d observed between the brothers, made her think Drew shared that family loyalty. Sam had to realize that. God knew she understood what it felt like to be betrayed by someone you loved.

  Feeling antsy and already dressed for a run with her holstered gun under her jacket, she retrieved her phone and key and let herself out of the house as the sun was rising. After sending a text to Seth informing him of her intended route, she set out at a steady lope, staying watchful even as an internal debate ping-ponged inside her head.

  If she wanted to know what Sam was holding back, she could search his bedroom and office for clues. As a Deputy US Marshal working an investigation that was within her purview. But as a woman in a personal relationship with Sam Creed, searching his personal possessions would be a huge violation of trust.