Burning Wild

by Feehan, Christine

  He stopped immediately. Even in the dark he saw the cake and he knew he was meant to see it. Emma always cleaned up, but she had left the cake in the middle of the table, along with his painting and two other brightly wrapped gifts. He picked them up. One card said Kyle with green crayon scribbled over it, and the other said From Andraya, covered in messy purple.

  His heart contracted. He’d screwed up big-time. He wasn’t cut out for the father or husband thing. Even as he thought it he climbed the stairs and went into the children’s room to kiss them good night before turning resolutely to Emma’s room. He frowned, standing in front of it. The door was closed. As long as he’d known her, she’d never slept with the door closed all the way because she wanted to be certain of hearing the children. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. It was locked.

  Fury swept through him, instant and ferocious, his temper ugly and black. She was angry with him and she dared to lock her door against him? He’d be damned if she started that.

  8

  EMMA pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the sound of her weeping. Although Susan was downstairs in one of the guest rooms, she didn’t want to chance her overhearing. She especially didn’t want the children to hear. She had thought herself all cried out after Andrew, but here she was, falling apart, feeling confused and alone and so upset without any real reason other than she’d accepted a date. Why had she done that? She didn’t want to go out with Greg Patterson.

  For pride’s sake, of course. Jake had so casually dismissed her ability to be attractive to a man. So maybe no man had approached her since Andrew’s death, but she hadn’t really wanted them to. She’d been busy. Mourning Andy. Taking care of Kyle. Having babies. Keeping a large house. It had only been two years. Was she supposed to fling herself at the nearest man?

  She turned over and wiped at her burning eyes. She hadn’t cried like this in months. Life with Andrew had been straightforward and easy. With Jake it seemed so complicated. She was in a world she didn’t always understand. As long as she stayed protected on the estate, far from people, she felt wrapped in a cocoon of safety. Jake had a strong personality, but she could deal with him if she just stayed on an equal footing. His acquaintances were another matter altogether.

  His associates treated her like a piece of the furniture, or a servant—and technically, she was a servant. She was the housekeeper, not the mistress of the house. Jake gave her such free rein, she had grown complacent, believing that this house was her home. The petty meanness and raised eyebrows had never hurt until now—until she realized the precarious position she’d put not only herself in, but Andraya and Kyle as well.

  She wouldn’t call the men and women who came to the house Jake’s friends. They were business associates, people looking for favors—or trying to get close to him. She could have told them, after watching him for two years, that Jake didn’t let anyone close. There was always a distance between him and everyone else—including the children.

  Was that why she was weeping? She had waited as long as she could for Jake, and when it was apparent he wasn’t coming to his own birthday party, she’d let the children blow out the candles and eat. Quite a bit ended up in their hair and all over their clothes so she’d whisked them to their baths. As she washed the cake from their hair and skin she finally realized how alone she was—how alone they all were. They lived in the shadow of Jake’s presence, day in and day out, yet he hadn’t really made them a part of his life.

  Jake listened when she told him of the children’s progress and related all the cute things they did as they grew and began discovering the world around them, but his face didn’t light up; he didn’t laugh the way he should. He held himself back from them—apart from them. She’d felt sadness for Kyle and Andraya as well as for herself. In that moment she’d realized there was no real hope for her and Jake. As much as she loved and respected him, as much as her body craved his, she would need much, much more than he was capable of or willing to give her. She’d put the children to bed and come to her room, locking the door so they wouldn’t walk in on her if they heard her unrestrained sobbing.

  Now she had the added humiliation of her body burning day and night, desperate for Jake’s touch. She could barely face herself, remembering how she’d practically thrown herself at Jake, kissing him—kissing him. She touched her mouth, her lips, remembering the feel and shape of him, his taste and texture. She wanted to crawl into him, devour him, the urges so strong and overwhelming she didn’t trust herself near him. She was going to ruin everything she had. Or maybe she really didn’t have anything at all.

  Great sobs wracked her body, tightened her chest and tore at her throat.

  “Why the hell did you lock me out?”

  Emma nearly jumped off the bed, her eyes going wide with shock, her heart slamming hard in her chest, then pounding fast as adrenaline poured into her body.

  “Are you crazy?” she demanded. “Jake, you scared me.” She threw her pillow in the direction of his voice, unable to stop the aggression surging through her. “Get out.”

  The missile didn’t slow him down. He stalked across the room to tower over her. She should have been intimidated, as was obviously his intent, but his behavior only made her angrier.

  She shoved her hair back to glare at him. “You are such an ass. Don’t you have any boundaries? My door was locked. Locked. That clearly means don’t come in.”

  Jake’s anger melted the moment he saw her sitting in the middle of her bed with her long hair tousled and unkempt as if she’d just been made love to. Her eyes were large, framed with thick lashes, staring up at him with sparks of fire radiating from them. She looked kissable, too kissable. He could barely resist leaning down and taking possession of her mouth. It was only then that he noted her face, pale with red splotches and traces of tears.

  His gut clenched. He caught her chin and tipped her face up to his. “You’ve been crying.”

  She jerked back, turning her face away from him. “Hence the locked door and the need for privacy. Now please go and leave me to it.” She wiggled her fingers toward the door dismissively.

  “No.”

  Her head snapped back around, hair flying in all directions. “Jake. I’m clearly upset. Could you just for once have a little respect and let me be tonight?”

  “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re upset.” He sank down onto the bed, forcing her to scoot over a little to give him sufficient room. “I’m sorry about the birthday party. My absence was unavoidable.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He could see it made her even angrier that she had automatically moved over for him. So often in the past two years he’d come to her room and they’d lain side by side, talking when neither could sleep, and he counted on that familiar closeness.

  “I’m not crying because of you or the fact that you didn’t show up to your own birthday party. Although selfish, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.”

  He winced at her accurately delivered punch. Emma sat with her knees drawn up, rocking back and forth in obvious distress. He doubted if she even knew how upset she was. She was curled up as small as she could make herself, her eyes drowning in tears. Jake reached over and scooped her up easily, cradling her against his body, holding her close to him.

  “If it wasn’t me that upset you so badly, what was it? I’ll take care of it, but you have to tell me what’s wrong first.” He brushed a trail of kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth and back up, stealing every tear with his lips.

  Emma buried her face against his chest. She couldn’t look at him. The moment his mouth slid over her skin, electrical charges raced from her breasts to her belly. She didn’t dare look up—she might start kissing him, and then what would happen? She had no doubt that Jake would be willing to have sex with her. He was always willing to have sex with someone. She could feel him, hard as a rock, against the backs of her thighs, but she wasn’t made for one-night stands or passionate flings that bur
ned out fast. She had two children she loved and a home she wanted to stay in. Giving in to sexual desire would momentarily satisfy her, but would ultimately cost her everything. Jake just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—make an emotional commitment.

  “Talk to me, honey. You can tell me anything, Emma.”

  His hands ran up and down her arms, over her scorching skin, driving her temperature up even more.

  “I’m just having a bad day, Jake. I have them sometimes. Everyone does.” Her skin was so sensitive it almost hurt to have him touching her. The sensation had faded for a while earlier in the evening, but now it seemed to be returning with more force than ever. “I have to lie down. And the light has to be off. And I need to be alone.”

  Jake frowned and rubbed his face over hers, almost like a cat. “Maybe I should call a doctor, Emma. You feel a little feverish to me.”

  In spite of everything, she felt the urge to smile. Jake probably had never used the word feverish in his life before Kyle was born, and now he was throwing it around like an old pro. “I’m fine. Crying always makes a person hot and sweaty.” She was too. And he smelled so good, fresh from a shower; she could always tell. His hair was damp and he smelled clean with a faint, elusive tang of wild.

  “That’s not good enough, Emma. Some women may just cry for no reason, but not you. Someone or something upset you. I intend to know what it was before I leave this room tonight.” He allowed her to slip out of his arms.

  She closed her eyes against the feel of the pads of his fingers sliding over her skin as she stretched out on the bed, giving him plenty of room so he wouldn’t have to touch her. “I guess you really don’t understand the concept of a locked door.”

  He shrugged, there in the near dark, rolling his broad shoulders in the casual way he always had. She was instantly aware of every muscle sliding under his skin. Emma squeezed her eyelids closed tighter. She drew in a breath and took him into her lungs.

  “Locked doors are for everyone else, honey.” He leaned over, brushed a kiss across her forehead and stretched out beside her.

  She realized how completely natural it felt. She’d been married to Andrew five months. She’d been with Jake for two years. He’d been coming to her room every single night, from the very first day she’d moved to his home. He’d held her that first night when she’d awakened with a terrible nightmare, the stench of fire and the heat of flames still so raw and vivid. His every gesture was more familiar to her than Andrew’s. When she remembered a man’s touch, it was Jake’s touch. When she burned at night for a man’s body, it was Jake’s body. When had that all started to happen? And why now? Why was she waking up now? She was terrified of the change, afraid she would lose everything.

  “Tell me about your parents. You don’t talk much about them,” Jake said.

  “My parents?” Emma echoed, startled. Her heart fluttered.

  His hand slid against hers, his fingers tangling with hers. She ached inside as he brought their joined hands to his chest, right over his heart. He always did that—tied them together. She was tied to him by far more than the children.

  “You do have parents, don’t you?”

  The rare amusement in his voice tugged at her heart-strings. She could feel his body, solid and warm right beside hers. She could count his steady heartbeats. “Of course I have parents. Do you think I crawled out from under a rock?”

  He brought her fingers up to his lips and bit down on the ends. His mouth was hot and moist and his teeth strong, although the bite was gentle and sent little tingles of arousal teasing along her thighs and belly. “I think you don’t want to tell me about your parents. Did you have a happy childhood?” He turned his head to look at her. “I just assumed that you did because you’re such a happy person.”

  She found herself smiling at him. “I did. My parents were very loving. We traveled a lot. My father had a difficult time settling down and we moved often. He was always restless. I’d come home from a friend’s house and we’d be packed up with everything already in the car. I rarely had time to say good-bye. We’d just leave.”

  “That must have been difficult.”

  “I wanted a home, you know, the traditional house with a yard like everyone else, and a regular school . . .”

  “You didn’t attend school?”

  Her gaze jumped to his face. His voice had been carefully neutral and he was looking at her fingers, absently bringing them to his mouth, nipping at the tips. “I’m very well educated, thank you,” she said, frowning, wary now.

  Her frown was wasted on him. He bit at the ends of her fingers, his teeth scraping back and forth. The sensation was intensely seductive, sending lightning lashing through her bloodstream. Her breasts ached. It didn’t help that she was ready for bed, without a bra, and the thin material of her pajama top rubbed against her nipples as they hardened into tight peaks. The look on his face was sensual but remote, as if sensuality was so inherent in his character that even when he wasn’t paying attention, women couldn’t help but feel his sexual heat.

  He suddenly turned his head to look at her and her heart quickened, pounding hard, her breath catching in her lungs. His golden eyes held possession, mesmerizing her, robbing her of speech. Her mouth opened, but absolutely nothing came out.

  “I know you’re educated. I just always imagined you in school with other kids. I had private tutors. I always wondered what it was like to go to a school with other children.”

  Emma pressed her lips together, feeling them tingle. He was just so focused when he looked at her, so completely concentrated on her, that she felt threatened in some ways and completely exhilarated in others. “So did I,” she managed to get out.

  “Emma.” His voice went soft, melting her. “You’re so tense. Something happened tonight and I want to know what it is.”

  His thigh rubbed against hers as he turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his body curling around hers protectively. He was closer to her than ever, so close she could exchange breath with him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever encountered, in a raw, sexual way. Each time he moved, ropes of muscles rippled and slid beneath his skin, a powerful, fluid, very sensual movement that heated her blood no matter how hard she tried not to notice.

  His palm cupped the side of her face, his thumb sliding gently over her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “Honey, I swear to you, I had every intention of being home tonight. Something came up that was unavoidable. I’ll make it up to the kids. I’m trying to be better about being involved with them. Believe me, I know I leave them with you more than I should.” He was stabbing in the dark, trying to get her to open up. He wished it was just the party she was upset about. He could make up for that. But no, there was something far deeper, and he had a bad feeling about the direction her thoughts were taking her.

  Emma closed her eyes to block out the sight of him, but her other senses immediately became heightened. Liquid heat rushed, dampening between her legs, her blood pounding with need. She had always secretly condemned Jake for his sexual exploits with women. He never hid the fact that women found him attractive. She knew they visited him at his office in the city and she knew why. Maybe all along she’d been jealous and had never identified her own attraction to him. But it was horrible to feel like one of those women.

  She didn’t want to be one more woman standing in line, vying for his attention, begging to be noticed, discarded the moment she serviced his needs. How could she tell him that she couldn’t have him in her bed anymore because all she thought about was climbing on top of him? Why did everything he do seem so sexual right now, when he’d been doing the same exact thing for the past two years and she’d never once reacted? She must have been the one who had changed. A fresh wave of tears flooded her eyes.

  “That’s it,” Jake snapped, his hands framing her face, thumbs under her chin, brushing seductively. He bent his head to hers and stole her breath. “You have to stop. Do you hear me, Emma? You have to stop or I’m going to
do something neither of us will ever be able to take back.”

  She pressed her forehead to his. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jake, but I hate it. I feel like I’m climbing out of my skin.”

  He stroked his hand down her face. “You’ve gone through a lot in two years. Losing a husband, bed rest, taking care of a baby, having another one, taking over the reins of this house—which, if I haven’t told you, you’ve done an amazing job with. I think you’re entitled to a meltdown. You’ve only left the ranch to do a little shopping, and even then, most things are delivered. You never take time off for yourself.”

  Mothers didn’t take time off. She didn’t think of herself as the housekeeper; she was Kyle’s and Andraya’s mother. But this wasn’t really her home. Kyle wasn’t her son. She had a job. It was a job. “We’ve never talked about time off.” Is that how he saw what she did? A job?

  She felt numb inside, and thank God, the burning inferno was cooling, the sensitivity of her skin lessening. The craving for him didn’t lessen, but at least it wasn’t so raw and biting that she was afraid of attacking him.

  He blinked. The golden eyes nearly glowed. A faint rumble, much like a growl, emanated from deep in his chest. “You want time off?”

  She frowned. “Isn’t that what you just said? That I don’t take time off?”

  “I made a statement. I didn’t ask a question.”

  Emma thumped her head against the pillow. “What did you mean? I thought you meant I should go on vacation or have a night or two off.”

  “If you went on vacation or took a few nights off, I’d have to hire a stranger to take your place. I don’t want strangers running around in my home or around the children. And we’d need more bodyguards. I meant read a book. I told you I bought a horse for you. I’ll take you riding. Those are the sorts of things I meant.”