by Reece Butler
“In your dreams, cowboy!”
“Dreams?”
His smirk suggested he read through her defenses. He lifted a curl of her hair and tugged. She resisted the pull. Barely.
“When I get you in my bed,” he murmured, “and I do mean when, you’ll stay there until I’m satisfied you’ve had enough orgasms.” She shivered. “I’m thinking six, to start.” He brushed his lips over her temple.
Orgasms? As in more than one? She forced herself to step back. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to think.
She’d escaped the future planned for her, and would be in control of herself from now on. That could include using men to get what she needed to survive. If her father’s men were looking for her, she was far safer staying with Travis for a few days, even if his brother was part of the deal. By then she would have changed her hair color, her clothing, her accent, and everything else possible.
She would go with them, but on her terms.
Jane met his gaze head-on. The heat she’d felt had eased from a rolling boil to a simmer. To cool things even more she gave him a tight well-bred society smile, a slight tip of a lip.
“You misunderstood,” she said, as if correcting a child who did not comprehend adult conventions. “When I said I was not hungry, it was to spare you having to share.”
“I bought an extra burrito for you,” he said. “Figured you’d be hungry. And a bottle of orange juice.”
She could refuse his food, but that would be counterproductive. Plus, he’d offered her juice. She swallowed the saliva that flooded her mouth.
“I’ve never had a burrito,” she said. It was a relief to drop the accent she’d done her best to erase “Thank you for your kind dinner invitation.”
She wouldn’t tell him more than her new first name until she knew him a lot better.
“Riley, Jane’s had a bad day.”
A bad day? That was such an understatement that she had to press her lips together, faking primness, to stop a smile. The flicker in Travis’s eyes said he’d noticed, but chose not to comment. He took her pack in one hand and guided her to the picnic table, hand on her upper arm rather than her bruised elbow. His quiet comment, and obvious caring, made her chin tremble. A stranger, one she’d forced herself on, had just shown her more honest courtesy than she could remember from her father or his guards.
Travis helped her to climb over the seat of the picnic table. She hid a wince when she sat. Now that she wasn’t terrified, a few bruises were making themselves known.
Travis twisted the lid off the juice and set it down in front of her. She savored that first cold, sweet jolt of liquid, then started on her barely-warm burrito. It was salty, greasy, and perhaps a touch rancid. She was too hungry to care.
Nobody talked as she and Travis ate. The unfamiliar sounds of a Texas winter night filled the air. Climbing into Travis’s pickup had been her best idea since she stepped out of her bedroom and onto her father’s roof.
Riley fed Buster what looked like hamburger patties. The dog lapped up a bowl of water placed on the ground, then went off to do dog things. She was just finishing when he came back and sat beside her, tongue lolling.
“When you climbed into my truck you put yourself in my care,” said Travis solemnly. “Something’s chasing you, but I will keep you safe.”
He had no idea what he was facing. She’d never had anyone protect her. She sagged, but only for a moment. She stiffened her spine and her quivering chin.
“I can take care of myself,” she said with as much dignity as she could scrape together.
“Damn it, Trav!” blurted Riley. “We’re not going to—”
“Shut up, Rye.” Travis kept his attention on her as his brother sputtered. “You know the code to the lockbox at the condo?” He waited for Riley’s grunt. “Leave the door unlocked. Jane gets the main bedroom with the private bath. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Riley, voice tight.
He gathered the garbage and tossed it in the bin. He came close, reaching to ruffle Buster on the head. She automatically flinched from his raised hand. He hesitated, but said nothing as he finished his doggy farewell. Travis didn’t move until Riley’s truck was nothing but taillights heading south. Then his dark eyes smiled. A corner of one lip turned up. He released her, then patted the table.
“Up,” he said. Buster did as told. She got a chin lick before the dog settled beside her.
“Is the law after you?” he demanded. “Are you carrying drugs?”
“Drugs?” she replied, furious at the insinuation. “Just because you found me at that—”
“Answer the question, Jane. Yes, or no? I need to know if you’re running from something that could get us arrested, or killed. You’re over twenty-one, right?”
She nodded. He was risking a lot taking her with him. He’d even gone against his brother.
“I have done nothing illegal,” she said, “and I don’t do drugs.”
“Is the law was after you?”
She heard the rebuke as well as the demand for details. He wasn’t stupid. She could have the law after her and still be innocent.
“The police aren’t chasing me, as far as I know.”
“What happened?”
The tension, which had eased with Buster’s company, squeezed her heart again. She clenched his soft fur in her fingers.
“Best to get it out,” added Travis. “We’re not going anywhere until I know why you’re here. You’re well dressed, wearing expensive clothes and jewelry. I can go without sleep for a while, and you seem stubborn enough to do the same. But it isn’t fair to the dog. He’s been travelling for two days.”
Buster added a whine and licked her chin again. The man knew which buttons to hit. He was right. She couldn’t ask him to put himself at risk without knowing what he was up against. But she didn’t have to tell him everything.
“I’m only telling you because of Buster,” she replied through gritted teeth. He nodded, but she thought she caught his lip twitch. “A man I met said he’d give me a ride to Los Angeles if I paid his gas.”
Travis exhaled as if he already knew what she was going to say, and didn’t like it. Well, she hadn’t been too wild about it either, but at that point she hadn’t had much choice. She’d had to get out of town before her father’s goons found her trail, even if she had to put up with an annoying driver.
She took a deep breath and presented a calm expression. Most people never bothered looking below the surface. This man saw far too much, so she had to try even harder to hide what she felt.
“He was not a nice man,” she admitted. “I fell asleep. When I woke up we were in Texas. He refused to stop until we got to that bar. He said he was going to have a drink. I had to use the restroom, so I went in with him. The place was really creepy, and beyond filthy.”
She hunched, remembering the way the men had sized her up. She’d had her jacket buttoned up but felt their eyes go through her clothing, exposing her. She’d quickly done what she had to, grabbed her pack, and opened the restroom door. Her stomach curdled in memory.
“Talk,” ordered Travis.
She clasped her hands to stop them shaking. She couldn’t do much about her voice.
“When I opened the door I heard him talking.” She forced the words out. “He told them he’d brought a present, and they could…He’d…”
Her throat closed in memory of her terror. She bent forward, clutching her arms over her stomach. A warm hand lightly stroked her back, from her neck to the base of her spine. She focused on his touch. He used just the right pressure to show he was there, yet wasn’t demanding anything. She’d chosen the right man to trust this time. Buster agreed. He’d growled at Riley, but was happy with Travis.
“When you’re ready, Jane.”
After a few minutes she took a deep breath and continued.
“I escaped through a side door, into the bushes. He caught me and slapped me in the face so hard I fell backward. He laughed, and so did the m
en watching from the door. I stood up, though my legs were shaking. He turned aside to say something and I kicked him in the side of his knee.”
“He went down?”
“Hard.” She smiled in triumph. “And then I kicked him between the legs. He screamed, and I ran.”
“Good for you. Bastard deserves worse.”
“I watched from the shadows behind the fence. The men went back inside, but he lay there for a long time, moaning and cursing. Finally, he stumbled to his car and drove away.” She shuddered. “I grabbed my bag when it was safe, and hid.”
“It’s well after midnight, Jane. You were out there since, what, six o’clock?”
She shrugged. “What else could I do?”
He swore. She saw pity, anger, and what might be frustration before he turned away.
“Can’t do anything about that bruise on your face,” he said. “You’re going to have some swelling from it. I’m surprised you chomped down those burritos.”
“I was hungry,” she explained.
“You’re used to pain,” he said.
She stilled. “Why would you say that?”
“Who hit you?”
“I told you, the man—”
“Before that, Jane. Was it your father?”
She stiffened. “That’s none of your business!”
“Fair enough.”
She did not want Travis’s pity. Only one time had she gotten up her nerve to tell someone about her father. It was a Monday morning in early December. She was still sore from what he’d done Friday after school. She’d got up her nerve and told her second grade teacher her father beat her. The woman had bristled and told her not to lie, that such an important man would never do such a thing.
If the teacher had looked, she would have seen the evidence. But her father was a generous donor to the private school. She was further humiliated when the teacher warned the class not to trust her as she told lies. Of course, the school told her father. She was terrified, but nothing happened that night, or that weekend.
He didn’t touch her until the Christmas break. The external damage had healed before she returned to class in January. The memories would be with her forever.
She never did anything to give him a moment’s irritation again. Not that it stopped the Friday night sessions. It didn’t happen every week, just often enough to keep her in a state of constant terror. His small cruelties could, and did, occur all the time. Her name, printed on rough fabric, was sewn into her school uniform where it would cause the most irritation. Her meals, delivered to her room, were bland, unappetizing, and barely warm. She was not allowed sweets, of course, as her complexion must be perfect.
“You’re under my protection now, Jane. And I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
His words pulled her from the past.
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t ask about your past, but I’m in charge now. You’ll do what I say.”
“Ex-cuse me?” She gave him the type of look her younger sister used on girls farther down the social scale. “You don’t own me just because you paid for dinner. I’ve got money to pay for food and gas. I’ll pay you what I owe, and take care of myself.”
She had money, all right. A fistful of it. Ten dollars, all in ones. Maybe a few nickels and pennies had fallen to the bottom of her pack as well.
“No, Jane. I’m taking care of you.” His voice dropped as he leaned closer. “I need to check to see if you have scratches. I don’t want you to get an infection. Lift your skirt.”
“No!”
She gripped her hem with both hands and tugged it down.
“Either you show me, or I’ll take it off you.”
A jolt of lightning struck between her thighs. She jammed them together. Travis said what he meant, and meant what he said. He spoke with complete confidence. He hadn’t threatened her, but made a statement. She had a choice, but both were in his favor. She got the impression he’d much rather take her skirt off. He might even enjoy having her struggle to stop him, so that he could overpower her.
Why did the thought of fighting, and losing, make her pussy throb?
If his fingertips slowly slid up her thighs she might melt into a moaning puddle of need. She could not give in to the first man she met just because a new world of erotic sensations threatened to overwhelm her with pleasure.
“There’s no need,” she said, choking back her ridiculous craving for him. “I can do it myself.”
“Look at me.”
She fought it, but finally met those calm, brown eyes. She felt a wild flush rising but his steady gaze stopped her from looking away.
“That was an order, Jane.”
He raised one eyebrow and gave her a demanding look that made the bottom fall out of her stomach.
“It’s just that…I’m wearing a thong.”
Chapter Six
A thong?
Travis bit back a groan of frustration, need, and pain from his cock being near cut in half. It took everything he had to keep his gaze hard, steady and on Jane’s wide eyes. A thong! Otherwise known as butt floss with a tiny triangle covering her pussy.
Hoo-boy!
Once the initial shock subsided, though his cock didn’t, he was able to breathe. Jane wearing a thong was not a problem. Seeing her in it was his reward. His fingers on her bare ass would be the closest he’d been to a woman in too many years.
“Why is that a problem?” he demanded when he figured he could speak without his voice breaking like an eager teenager.
The essence of her arousal had increased drastically in the last few minutes. She was just as turned on as he was by the thought of him seeing her naked ass, but being female, she fought it.
That was fine. He’d wait until she was ready. Ranchers needed patience, and for someone like this woman, he would find it. Maybe it was the long drought without sex, but Jane tied him up in knots like never before. His responsibility to her was far more important than answering the demands of his cock.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” she whispered.
Her voice shook, as if she was close to losing it. He had to piss her off again or she might fall apart. He couldn’t let her do that until they were safe. That meant a bed or couch where he could hold her while her emotional storm passed. And damn, did he want to hold her!
He could tell her composure was hanging on by a thread. She needed to get ticked off at him before she fell apart.
“Taking care of my woman is part of my reward for protecting you.”
The statement was true, but stating it baldly, with a patronizing sneer, implied something quite different than if he’d used a loving tone and touch.
The reference to touching her being his reward worked as intended. The fingers clutching her skirt rolled into fists. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. Her spark was back.
“I’m not your woman!”
He gave her a slow look. “Not yet,” he replied with a smirk.
She gaped at him as she built up a good head of steam.
He’d never spoken to a woman in this way, but none of them had been Jane. The more time he spent with her the more he wanted her. Having sex would be good. Sex would be very good. But he hadn’t had a chance to verbally spar with a smart, strong woman, other than aunts and grannies, in years. Jane was tough. She’d had to be. But it was time she learned to lean on someone, trusting to be cared for. Someone like him.
Did he want to touch her bare ass? Hell, yeah! But it really was medically necessary for him to check for scratches. Commanding her to comply would get her angry, which would help take away the pain of him tending her. Nothing like fury to get your mind off something unpleasant.
He set his feet shoulder length apart, crossed his arms, and scowled. It was a position he’d seen used all his life by his father and uncles. Sheriff Josh Gibson continued his family’s traditional work using the same look, but it was even more effective since he carried a gun and
a badge.
Jane bristled and glared, reacting in fury as expected.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, using the tone that implied there was no way he could be. “You stowed away in my truck, and just ate the dinner I bought. I’m taking you to my condo, where you will sleep in my bed.”
She opened her mouth to howl. He lifted his finger and gave her a warning look. She backed down, suggesting either an inner submissiveness, or fear. The fury in her eyes matched the set of her jaw. Nope. No fear there.
“The beds are mine,” he added, “but you’ll have your own room with a lock.”
“On the inside?” she demanded.
Oh, God, she’d been locked in! He needed to find whoever had harmed this bright young woman and pound the bastard into the dirt. He unclenched his jaw and gave a curt nod.
“You will have full control to come and go as you choose.”
She shuddered, her shoulders drooping for a moment before she rallied and glared once more. She was ready for the next step. He adjusted his stance in a pose his father used when his mom was being ornery and he’d had enough.
“Lift. Your. Skirt.”
Her mouth dropped open and her nostrils flared. She quickly recovered, jamming her teeth together. Her eyes narrowed. The pulse point at her neck throbbed. Would she fight or submit? If she fought and he had to haul her skirt up, he’d have to be careful she didn’t knee him in the family jewels. He wanted children to continue ranching the J Bar C Ranch.
He saw the moment she made her decision. She was still furious, but would bend to his will. Not in resignation, but knowing his judgment was correct. She looked down at Buster. He put his paws on the bench to get closer. She gave his head a scratch. He gazed up at her adoringly. Hell, if she put those fingers on him he’d be smiling, too.
“I don’t know why you stay with such an insufferable man, Buster.” Her voice, low and husky, hit his groin like an arrow. “Though I expect he has his uses.” She gave a little sniff of dismissal. “All those muscles would come in handy when it’s time to open a can of dog food. Or carry those fifty-pound bags of kibble.”