by Mary Wine
Her body shuddered with need and it was overwhelming. She shifted, rubbing against him in invitation, seeking out the intimacy she’d craved since the last time he’d fought his way past her defenses.
He moved his hand and parted her flesh as he found her most sensitive spot. Her body jerked away but he held her down as that finger began a slow circle. Sensation was sharp and merciless as it spiked through her body.
“I want to hear you purr,” Brice promised darkly.
Grace arched, pushing her hips up toward that hand. He pressed his finger against her and then circled before pressing again. Everything drew tight and pleasure spiked straight through her. It was intense and breathtaking but it was also one sided.
“I want more.”
“I want to make love with you too, Grace.” His mouth covered hers and thrust her denial back into her throat.
The word love seemed too exposing, but he didn’t allow her the chance to argue. Grace surrendered because her body demanded it. She wanted him. Wanted more than he’d given her in such a one-sided pleasure.
“You made your point, Brice.”
“Did I?” Her emerald eyes were cloudy with passion. Brice eased to his side and watched her adjust herself against him.
“Yes.” Grace still didn’t have the words to express it. But she wanted his pleasure to mingle with hers. Her body seemed incomplete without his. Spreading her hands over his chest, she sighed with enjoyment. Moving down, she boldly closed her hands around his cock.
Grace stroked his sex. The heavy rod was swollen stiff. Brice sucked his breath in as she moved her hand up the length of the staff. It pulsed, reminding her how it had throbbed deep inside her body.
Brice’s eyes were harsh with arousal. She moved her hand again and watched his face draw tight. The bed shifted again as he rolled her onto her back. He brushed over her healing wound as he watched her face for any sign of pain.
Dipping his head, Brice licked a small pink nipple. She arched her back and he sucked it into his mouth. Her hips thrust up in a tiny movement along with her back. Brice covered her mons with a firm hand then slipped a finger into her wet sex. “Open for me, honey.”
His staff throbbed against her leg, and Grace obeyed as she moaned with anticipation. Her passage ached for his body to fill it. He lifted his body and settled between her thighs. Brice held himself above her as the tip of his staff nudged the opening to her body.
Her hips thrust up, seeking his possession. Brice pressed forward as he groaned with pure pleasure. Her hips tilted to ease his penetration as her nipples brushed against his chest.
Her passage was flooded from her first climax. But she thrust up toward him eagerly seeking another orgasm.
His body was so hard. Grace craved it and she pushed her hips toward his. They moved together in a dance that fed her cravings. Pleasure tightened around his staff again as she let him drive her toward climax. His thrusts were hard and heavy and she wanted more.
“Look at me, Grace. Let me see your pleasure.” His face was raw. The brown probe of his eyes was as hard as his sex. The jump and throb of his staff hit her body as she tightened around him to milk him dry. Pleasure split her apart as he ground his staff deeper into her body. He watched her, absorbing every last wave of sensation that coursed through her.
Brice rolled off her immediately. He brushed his hand over her wound and nodded with satisfaction. The stitches were dry. Gently rubbing her hip, he eased any discomfort that might have resulted from their activity.
“I’m fine.”
Tipping her chin up, Brice considered her emerald eyes. She was slipping her mask back into place as he watched.
“Don’t hide from me, Grace.” His voice was a deep warning.
She shifted closer to him, closing her eyes for a moment so that there was nothing but the sound of his heart. “I don’t want to.” She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I guess…it’s a habit.”
“Fair enough.”
He stroked her back, slowly petting her. Time froze, stretching out, and she lost track of it completely. There was only the sound of his heart and the feeling of his arms around her. She’d never felt so secure. Or cherished.
But the back door squeaked as it was opened too fast. Jacobs stomped inside and slammed it shut.
“Are you deaf, Campbell? You’ve got company knocking on your front door.”
The sound of her C.O.’s voice hit Grace like a bucket of ice water. She stiffened, bumping Brice’s chin in the process.
“Family has the worst sense of timing,” Brice groused before rising from the bed and stepping into his jeans.
“So does my C.O..”
He turned to shoot a questioning look at her. Halfway into his shirt, Brice paused a moment to grin at her.
“Yeah, him too.”
A sound escaped her that she was sure she’d never made. She slapped a hand over her lips but Brice chuckled. He leaned down over the bed and pulled her hand away.
“I love it when you giggle.”
She rolled away from him and landed on her feet on the opposite side of the bed.
“It’s immature.”
He reached for his gun. “It’s sexy as hell because you hold onto your control so tightly. Makes me wonder if you’re ticklish.”
She wrapped her hands over her body in defense.
“Stay right here,” he instructed. “I’ll be back.”
Brice turned away to see to his company.
Backing away from the bed, Grace grabbed her clothes. Her body was weak. So weak she already wanted another taste of the man.
She already had to fight to keep from giggling.
And the best part was, she liked it.
“Who’s behind that door?” Jacobs’s voice was stone cold, as he demanded information.
“I told you, around here I have friends. I called a few of them over to help even the field.”
Jacobs cocked his head to the side as he digested that.
“Every piece of this trap needs to be tight. We don’t have time to be guessing just which face to trust.”
Understanding came instantly. Jacobs stepped back as he waited for Brice to open the door. The men that entered were muscular with razor-sharp eyes. They committed his face to their memories even as he did the same. The last man through the door gained complete approval from him.
“Grant Campbell.” The sheriff of the neighboring county crossed into the room as he stuck his hand out in greeting. Jacobs shook his brother-in-law’s hand before sending a grin over to Brice.
“Where’s the brat?”
Grant Campbell lifted the corners of his mouth. Jacobs never referred to his sister as anything other than brat. But the man also took brotherly affection to the extreme. “At home, no doubt changing the locks on the doors because I wouldn’t bring her along.”
“She knows I’m here?” The steel was back in Jacobs’s voice.
Brice leveled a hard stare at the man. “You might recall that little chat Ms. Stewart had with you about the gossip chain around these parts. I’m surprised Sarah didn’t waltz into the hospital.”
“You can thank me later. Sarah doesn’t like being kept away from her family.” Grant stated his opinion before he dropped his frame onto the sofa. “These are my men. The best. But most importantly, they know the mill inch by inch.”
“It’s the resource you don’t have, Jacobs.”
Jason nodded. “I think we should introduce them to Grace.”
The shadow of the hallway hid her most effectively. The only occupant of the living room that noticed her was the large bloodhound one of the deputies had with him. The animal aimed its large eyes into the dark to study her. He lifted his nose and shook his head to pull her scent into the deep folds of skin that made up his face. The animal raised a foot to paw at its master as it let out a low-pitched whine.
“What’s got you all excited?” The deputy in charge of the bloodhound ran a familiar hand over the animal’s fur,
but the dog wiggled away from the attention. He stared back into the darkness before emitting a series of whines and yelps.
“Rudy’s more excited than I’ve seen him in a long time.” Brice considered the hound.
“Yep. You don’t have a bitch hiding out back there, do ya?”
Jacobs choked. Brice tried, but the noise that came out of his chest sounded far too much like a laugh. Grace frowned. Damn males. They always thought themselves so very perceptive. She knew how to be a bitch. If Brice Campbell found the idea so amusing, she just might have to crack his skull with the reality.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I hope you’ll excuse my tardy arrival.” Grace strolled into the room with a smile plastered to her face. She fluttered her eyelashes just a bit as she looked over their company. Considering Brice’s cousin, she turned her full attention onto Grant Campbell.
“How is your wife?”
Grant Campbell jumped to his feet while his hand made a quick pull at his hat. The other deputies followed their sheriff. Muffled greetings filled the room as the men tried to stare at her without their mouths dropping open.
“What a fine animal.”
“Oh, Rudy is. Thank you, ma’am.” The deputy grinned like a schoolboy as she smiled at him. Grace opened her eyes a bit wider in innocence as she focused on the young deputy.
“You know anything about tracking hounds?”
“I’m familiar with tracking,” she assured him.
He grinned and he launched into a shining explanation of Rudy’s tracking abilities. Grace appeared to hang on his every word. Rudy did interest her. Allan gave the dog its leave and he ambled over to her, giving her a thorough investigation with his nose before sitting at her feet. Grant’s other deputies were practically begging for the chance to gain her attention. Grace fluttered her lashes again before placing the final touch on her performance.
“Could I offer any of you gentlemen a drink?”
“Coffee would be great, ma’am.”
“Very kind of you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Turning around, Grace narrowed her eyes as she caught Brice staring at her. His brown eyes probed into her while his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’ll take a beer.” Her eyes lit up with amusement before she turned toward the kitchen. Jacobs sent her an annoyed look before adding his order to the list.
“I’ll take two of those beers.”
Grace slapped a hand over her mouth as a giggle escaped her. It was worth the effort of waiting on them just to see the look on Jacobs’s face.
Maybe she was just sick of being so very predictable. She filled the coffee maker and waited for it to brew.
It was certainly fun to surprise Brice.
And herself.
Satisfaction was still wrapped around her. It was more than relief from sexual tension. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was quite simply…happy.
The scent of coffee filled the kitchen and she waited for the pot to brew. Yes, that was exactly it. She’d had enough of everyone predicting her moves, anticipating her reactions, scoring her efficiency rate, compressing her life into a neat, well-organized report that would be filed away in an ever-so-plain manila folder.
She poured the coffee into mugs and picked them up before moving back into the living room.
She plastered a smile across her face. Well, they could just add this to their findings.
Brice didn’t get the chance to return to Grace until well after midnight. Her room was empty, giving him a few moments of gleeful anticipation that died when he discovered his own bed empty too. He returned to the hallway and heard a soft whistle. Jacobs was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, steam rising from a fresh cup of coffee. He pointed toward the patio.
Brice didn’t bother to worry about why Jacobs was being so accommodating. He moved outside and found Grace curled up on his patio sofa. She had her chin and nose tucked into the collar of her jacket.
She’d been waiting for him.
He didn’t bother to debate whether or not he was right. Part of him needed to be right because their trip up to Jennings Mill just might be his last days with her.
So he scooped her up, cradled her gently and took her down the hallway.
“You carry me too much.”
Brice settled her in his bed and attacked one of her boots. He set it aside and began working on the other one.
“You end up on the outer edge too often.”
“Meaning what?”
He placed his hat on the bed post. “You were neither out in the woods with the rest of your unit or in the guest bedroom. You don’t feel you belong on either side. Tonight, you belong here.”
“Because you say so?”
“Because I’m willing to speak up. Jacobs might look out for you when he can but he is still building his career on your success record. Every Ranger in your unit will take away a shining service record. I think it’s time you earned something from putting your skills to use.”
“Is that something a place in your bed?”
He turned to put his gun on the bedside table. “It’s called home, Grace. Why don’t you try sleeping in my embrace because you just want to? Admit you’re sick of having no one but yourself? Nothing but the next target. Let’s just stop talking and enjoy the night.”
Grace nodded.
It was so simple and yet so very complicated.
She unzipped her jacket and shrugged out of it. He was right. Talking would only give reality a chance to sour the mood. Tomorrow would be soon enough for that. He lay down beside her and folded her into his arms. She closed her eyes, intent on slipping back into sleep. Brice’s embrace made it simple.
She just wished it wouldn’t be one of the last times she would be able to enjoy it.
Chapter Eight
The sight of Jennings Mill should have caused her to tighten her focus. Instead, Grace felt like every last drop of tension was bleeding away into the morning sunlight. Filling her lungs yet again, she held the fresh air a moment before letting it out. Even her historical clothing felt good this morning.
Grace shook her head at her own folly, she wasn’t here to play.
There was camp to make and the chore might help her focus. Moving around the back of Brice’s truck, she hooked her hands into one of the many bundles that needed to be unloaded.
Brice pulled it out of her arms. “No lifting for you.” Brice shouldered the load and walked over to their campsite. Fixing an annoyed look at the man’s back, Grace turned and pulled a larger bundle from the truck bed.
“That means you, Gracie.” Jacobs yanked her newest burden away.
“I am not an invalid.” Neither man paid any attention to her rising frustration.
Jacobs pulled a second load from the truck before he confidently carried both bundles down the trail. Grace whirled around to grab something else from the truck. She reached for a stack of folded canvas when Brice pressed up behind her.
“But you are playing the role of bait this weekend,” he whispered against her ear. “Let’s not let the bad guys know just how hard you are to push down. I’m sure Beth could use a hand setting up the kitchen.”
Grace glared at him before turning away. Brice Campbell was just far too attractive. Every time she caught sight of his eyes she wanted to sink into the brown pools. Just the way he moved his mouth was enough to bring color to her cheeks now. The low rumble of his amusement drifted on the wind and her cheeks flushed further.
So much for tension relief.
“Grace. I’m so glad you came.” Beth rounded the truck with her arms full. She aimed a bright smile at Grace as she came closer. “Come on, let’s get over to the camp. I want one of the upper cooking fires this time and you have to stake a claim early on a holiday weekend.”
“Need a hand?” Grace asked.
“Oh, could I ever. These cast-iron pots are the worst.” Beth immediately handed off several large cooking pots. Delighted
to have someone who didn’t intend to coddle her, Grace took Beth up on her offer immediately.
But Brice was correct too. She needed to remember just what she was really doing at the historical event. It wasn’t about playing make believe.
Women were already laying claim to the better cooking spots. Beth surveyed what was available and led Grace in that direction. As the woman set about arranging the hearth to her satisfaction, she also made a careful point of not getting too close to Grace. Having people be nervous around her was normal, but watching Beth do so just seemed so very disappointing.
The gossip chain must have delivered the news to Beth of just what Grace was. Women especially avoided contact with her after finding out she was a psychic. Except for the few that wanted her to teach them how to cast spells.
She really liked the red-haired woman. Being tolerated for the sake of her attraction for Jacobs was a harsh blow. But Beth finally turned around and faced her.
“Tell me the truth. Did I mess up by challenging Jacobs’s authority at the hospital?” Beth fingered a fold of her skirt. “I know you know him. Some men can’t take it when a woman runs them in circles. It’s just my way sometimes.”
Nervousness floated across Beth’s face, but it wasn’t directed at Grace. Instead, the woman aimed pleading eyes at her. Relief flooded Grace as she discovered Beth was worried that she’d stepped on Jacobs’s pride too hard.
“It would depend on how you define ‘mess up’.”
“What do you think I mean?” Beth asked in exasperation.
“If your intention was to wave a red flag in front of the bull, you hit the mark. If you don’t want Jacobs’s attention, I suggest you pack up now and move to another state.”
“You really think so?”
“You’d be surprised at the number of women who try the helpless approach with Jacobs just because of his size,” Grace explained as she took up her post at the chopping block again.
“Brice has the same problem,” Beth commented and she started to arrange some meat into a large cast-iron cooking pot. “With him being the sheriff and all. He really hates it. I imagine that’s why he likes you.”