Dead Man's Bluff

by Adriana Law

  Walking away was always the hardest part. ♠

  The screen door slapped closed. Chris and Emma stood there, alone. An awkward silence engulfed them. Neither one of them said a word to each other. Not able to stand another minute of not knowing what was going through her mind his eyes slid to hers, surprised at the disappointment showing on her face. Okay, she was making him feel like shit. He occupied his time with something more productive, wincing as he shook out his fist, opened and closed his fingers, his knuckles bleeding from where he must have caught a tooth. Finally he said low, “Don’t look at me like that. The guy deserved it.”

  She took hold of the railing and stepped up on the bottom step, making her close to his height. Her black heels still swung from her fingertips. “Why? What did he do? You barely know Megan. It’s almost like you had an ulterior motive for picking a fight with him?”

  He studied each of the features of her face with great interest and then his gaze slowly traveled down the whole packable to her bare feet. Something about a woman barefoot really turned him on, and it had nothing to do with a woman being barefoot and pregnant. It made him think of taking long walks on a deserted beach with someone like her. He couldn’t help grinning at the thought of her in a bikini. He took a step closer to where she was standing.

  “Don’t even think about trying what you did earlier!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kissing me.”

  He chuckled, “Way I remember it…you kissed me.”

  “Yeah, well that was before you hit my friend.”

  “I hate guys like him, okay! He’s spoiled! His rich daddy has always given him everything he wants! He’s never had to work for anything, never had to know what it’s like to do without! You’re right… I wanted to rearrange his face!”

  “Such hatred for someone you don’t even know,” she murmured her blue eyes skimming his face. What was she searching for? Answers to why he was like he was. Hell, he hoped she’d share those answer if she found any, because sometime he didn’t even understand himself.

  He deliberately placed a hand on the railing next to hers, his little finger brushing against her thumb suggestively, the smallest touch, but one he felt straight to his groin. What were they talking about? Oh. Drew. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now. “I’ve known guys like him my entire life. I know his type.”

  She slid her hand away from his on the railing. “I forgot. You’re the authority on types.”

  “Just his.”

  “And mine.”

  He buried his hands into his pockets as his smoldering gaze connected with hers. “I know you used me at the bar to make another guy jealous. That’s your type.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction, but she recovered. And she didn’t deny it. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.” She moved closer to him, although her blue eyes remained cold and distant. She rose up on her tip toes, her mouth next to his ear. “But you might try getting to know people, before you judge them.” Pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes she placed a splayed hand on his chest, warmth bleeding through the fabric of his sweater. “You have Drew all wrong. Jonathan Mackenzie treats his son worse than he treats other people and that’s real sad, since that’s the only parent Drew’s ever had. While you’re going around being envious of him…You think about that.”

  “If you know him so well… why aren’t you dating him.” His lashes lowered as he focused on that pretty mouth. It was as if he was already addicted to the taste of her, the feel of her tongue against his. His body hummed, suffering through withdraws, wanting more.

  “For starters…he’s madly in love with Megan. Second, he’s like a brother to me,” she returned. He choked on his spit, but she ignored his sudden discomfort... “He moved out here to get away from everyone comparing him to his father, and he can’t even get away from it here, because of self-absorbed assholes like you.”

  She turned on her heels. He appreciated her loyalty to a ‘friend’… and he appreciated the great view of her rear-end as she climbed the steps in that mini skirt, the way her blonde hair swung in loose curls on her back, and the sexy way she tried to convince herself that she hated him.

  He called out, “Mind telling me which room I’m supposed to sleep in?”

  “You’re the genius. You figure it out.” ♠

  Sixteen

  Drew sucked air in through his teeth and tensed. His reaction had little to do with the fact that Megan was dabbing a cotton swab soaked with peroxide on the gash across his bottom lip and more to do with her lightly blowing at the cut.

  Was she trying to torture him? Or was she trying to get herself kissed?

  She smelled like drunk lilac and it caused a heady stirring deep within him. They were standing face to face by the bed. She was making preening sounds as she inspected his battle wounds up close.

  Her words were whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t believe he hit you.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t hit him back,” he stated in a hoarse voice doing his best to control his breathing and the overwhelming desire to push her back onto the bed. Taking every advantage he could of the situation, he eyes skimmed every delicate feature of her face like a guy who hadn’t seen the woman he loved for over two years.

  Her green eyes collided with his. She said, “Yeah that surprised me too.”

  “Filly, about earlier…”

  “Don’t, Drew. It’s not something I want to talk about.”

  “We have to talk about us sooner or later.” He offered her a mischievous grin hoping it earned him points. “If I were you…I’d do it while I’m wounded…so you have the upper hand.”

  Her smile was weak and brief. “There is nothing to discuss and there is no… US.”

  “You know that’s not true. There has always been an …us.”

  He felt her sway, still unsteady from the alcohol and his hands went to her upper arms. His thumbs seized the moment to enjoy the silkiness of her warm flesh. Her gaze lowered to his bare chest as if she’d just realized he was only wearing a pair of jogging pants. She cleared her throat, stepped back removing his hands from her arms and putting some breathing room between them. “You didn’t seem too enthused about talking two years ago.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair is you thinking you can have whatever you want whenever it’s convenient for you.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “Convenience has nothing to do with this and you know it.”

  “All I know is… I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open and my head is spinning.” She turned, crawled on her hands and knees with the pace of a snail onto the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers before lying down. Her right cheek smashed into the mattress. She was still wearing her red dress and appeared so innocent and childlike it made him feel guilt almost unbearable. If he ever had a daughter and some asshole did what he’d done…he’d castrate him, right after he beat the shit out of him.

  Drew knelled beside the bed and swept hair that had fallen into her face aside, tucking it behind an ear. Her long lashes fanned against skin the color of a sandy beach. He said, “At least let me help you out of the dress so you’ll be more comfortable.”

  “I am comfortable.” She mumbled as if she was hovering somewhere between consciousness and dreaming. “You’re just like every other guy, Drew Mackenzie. You only want what you can’t have. That’s all this is about… your bruised ego.”

  Drew exhaled, resting his forehead on the side of the mattress. He’d really screwed up. Maybe she was right and Mackenzie’s were destined to only love women they could never have. ♠

  Seventeen

  Chris hesitated in the narrow hallway debating which bedroom to try first. It shouldn’t be that difficult to figure it out. The open door at the end of the hall obviously led to the bath. That left two choices: the door on his left or the door on his right. He could see an open set of stairs that led to the second floor,
where there was probably more bedrooms, but he would start on the first floor. All he had to find was an empty bedroom.

  He pulled his right hand from a pocket and stretched for the door knob on the right, but froze whenever he heard voices coming from inside. Shit. Wrong room. It’s the one on the left then? He drew back his hand, and sighed. This all could have been prevented if she just would have told him. He turned and twisted the door knob, pushing open the door to his left.

  Darkness and silence greeted him. Good sign. He took several steps inside the room the toe of his shoe nudging something lying on the floor. He bent and came back up holding the gold shirt Emma was wearing earlier. The fabric was silky between his fingertips and it smelled of Emma. He swallowed hard imaging what it would be like to run a hand over her flawless skin. Tossing it back to the floor, he was about to turn to leave when the worse idea he’s probably ever had in his life slammed into him.

  His curious gaze traveled the room: the simple twin bed, one small night stand, the khaki colored area rug thrown over the hardwood floors, and the cracked closet door with a full length mirror covering the length of it. He’d expected more: a four poster bed you had to use a ladder to crawl up into fit for a princess, everything grand and frilly. His gaze went back to the twin bed and the girl asleep in it, his Goldilocks.

  He carefully pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light spilling in from a small lamp in the hallway. The only light left was from the moon sneaking its way through the blinds covering one window. Quietly he crept to the side of the bed peering over at her still body to make sure she was asleep. She was lying on her side facing the wall, her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow. She appeared peaceful, sweet even, so different from the venomous girl he’d met only a couple of hours earlier at the bar. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

  What he was about to do was shitty. Or bold as hell. He couldn’t decide which. His heart palpitated in his chest so loud he was afraid she’d hear it, wake up, and punch him in the gut. Taking a deep breath he convinced himself she deserved this, since she’d used him. He toed off his shoes and shed his socks, and reached behind his head grabbing hold of his sweater tugging it off in one swift movement. Next he dropped his pants giving them a gentle kick to the side.

  Standing there in his black boxers, he hesitated. Shit. What was he thinking? This was insane. And dangerous. But hadn’t she said ‘you’re the genius. You figure it out.’ Well, this was him figuring it out. He peeled back the covers and slid in next to her. ♠

  Emma eyes fluttered open and absorbed the darkness. She felt a strong presence behind her, but ignored it. During all the years she’d lived at the ranch she’d always felt like there was a possibility the place was haunted. Although she wasn’t an immediate believer of ghosts or spirits, sometimes she had the overwhelming sensation like she wasn’t alone. She’d learned to deal with this by convincing herself that if indeed there were ghost floating around the ranch they weren’t vengeful ones, because so far they’d never hurt her or anyone else. Closing her eyes, in a matter of seconds the feeling subsided and she drifted off to sleep again.

  Then the mattress dipped, and a warm body brushed up against her backside. She freaked and rolled towards whatever or whoever it was and opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t because of the large palm that was placed firmly over it. Her heart raced. Her body shook with fear. A dozen possibly ran through her head...not one of them being a dumbass stupid enough to crawl into her bed with nothing on but a pair of boxers.

  “If I remove the hand are you going to be nice?” He asked in a hushed voice next to her ear. She was lying on her back. He was leaning up on an elbow staring down at her with eyes that almost looked black in the dark, his palm over her mouth, one of his legs thrown over her leg, and she could feel his erection pressed against her hip. So this turned the freak on? With nothing on but silk panties and a tank top she felt exposed and confused by her excitement over the whole scenario: stranger, well practically a stranger, gets into girls bed without permission and takes control of the situation and her. She shook her head and muttered into his palm. “Is that a no? Or is it a maybe?” He lifted the hand slightly, gauging her reaction.

  “Go to hell!” she growled, going to sit up only to be shoved back down, and then she was under him.

  He chuckled. “So much hatred for someone you don’t even know.”

  Giving her no time to stew in her disbelief and anger his mouth came down over hers, and his weight settled onto her making it almost impossible for her to move. The hand he’d been covering her mouth with moved to her inner thigh, fingertips slowly inching their way toward the place that oddly was responding to his kiss and touch. Oh Lord, he wasn’t kidding. He meant to really do this. His tongue slid over hers and some noise tore from deep within her throat. In an instant everything changed; she returned his kiss, holding nothing back. He leaned further in on her, their mouths pulling and nipping at each other’s as if they were long lost lovers finding each other again after centuries apart. Their lips smacked apart in the quiet, both of them panting about the same time his fingers slid aside the narrow strip of silk between her legs. His mouth moved to the column of her throat as his thumb slid over her clit showing it special expert attention. Any protest she still held onto died in that instant.

  “So wet,” his words vibrated over her flesh. She could feel him smile. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and arched her back, her erect nipples rubbing against the thin fabric of her tank top. He was watching her reaction closely, she could feel it, but at the moment she didn’t care as long as he kept doing what he was doing. His weight left her and he peeled back the sheet exposing her trembling body to the cold air. She raised her head off the pillow and watched as he slid her panties down over her quivering thighs, beyond her knees, her ankles, giving her underwear a fling onto the floor. He gently spread her legs wider, while smiling wickedly up at her.

  “No, Chris…oh dear lord!” her head collapsed back down on the pillow the instant his tongue lapped at her center. The guy knew what he was doing. It was definitely the experience of a lifetime and she intended to make the most of it. She moaned, and fought to reign in what little self-control she had left.

  “You have no idea how sexy you are right now,” he said in a hoarse voice, and then the tip of his tongue was plunging inside her, tasting, tickling, pleasuring…

  Her fingers bunched up the sheet covering the mattress, clutching, searching for something to grab onto as her climax began to build with an intensity that frightened her. Suddenly, like magic there it was…his hand …something for her to hold on to.

  “Oh no, oh no…” she started, crushing his fingers with her grip.

  “Let go babe...don’t fight it.”

  Just like all the times she’d made herself come, she slapped her free hand over her mouth to muffle any noises that dared to escape, the drawbacks of sharing a house with so many people. But never before had she experienced such an explosion of sensations. She closed her eyes and did as he instructed and let go. As the last wave of her orgasm tapered off her body went slack, her breaths coming out quick, complete and total embarrassment settling in hard.

  Her sanity returned.

  She’d just let Christopher Blackwell eat her out. Oh. My. God!

  Dropping an arm over her eyes she refused to look at him knowing a smug expression was bound to be present on his face. It was too humiliating.

  “You liked that, didn’t you?” he was blabbering.

  She removed her arm to get it over with. Yep, smug expression present. “Can you please get out of my bed now?” she snarled.

  “Oh, I’m not finished with you yet.” He moved like a predator over top of her, smirking. He inched up the hem of her tank top with a large hand and applied gentle kisses to her sensitive lower stomach, circling her belly button with his warm tongue. His palm slid up her belly, under the tank, in-between
the peaks of her breast. “I think you should lose the tank top though, it’s only in my way.”

  He slowly positioned himself between her bent legs and started nudging her with his erection. Her hands moved to his ass of their own accord, her nails digging shamefully into flesh wanting him press against her harder.

  “Shit,” he shuddered out, panting. His eyelashes fanned down as he pushed up the fabric of her tank top, a thumb skimming over a nipple. Her body betrayed her by coming back to life, wanting more of what he was obviously wanting to give her. What the hell, you only live once.

  “That’a girl” he praised as she raised up and worked the tank top up and off over her head.

  She wanted to touch him everywhere: his shoulders, his biceps, his lower back, his chest. He sucked and licked one of her breast and then the other, grinding his hard-on against her. She could feel the head of his penis attempting to slide inside her only to be stopped by the tented fabric of his boxers. Her hips lifted urging him in deeper. She was so turned on she found herself brave enough to do anything. All logic was gone. Rising up she flicked her tongue over one of his hard nipples, circling it, teasing it with her teeth as her nails scored flesh.

  “Oh hell, keep doing that and I’m definitely going have to fuck you.” He said all husky and tortured like.

  “Wasn’t that what you planned to do from the start?” she grinned seductively. He groaned. She enjoyed being a temptress. She could feel the power she had over him and she liked it.

  As if to answer her question he quickly rose up and shed his boxers from his body and was back over her in the matter of a second. He took hold of her wrist pinning her arms to the mattress above her head. Her teasing mood dissipated the instant she felt the head of his penis nudging into her. She closed her eyes her entire body tensing, waiting for the pain everyone said would go along with her first time. Surprisingly she wasn’t afraid. She convinced herself it was the right thing to do: with him there would be no expected commitment, no confessions of love, no heartbreak. She didn’t have to worry about trying to impress him, or doing something that would cause her to lose him…because with Chris, it didn’t matter. Plus, it would be over with, the dreaded first time that was always hanging over her like a sooty cloud.