Thunder Rolls: Episode 8 (Rising Storm)

by Dee Davis

  “Right, false hope it is.” His eyes flickered with something more intense, but it was gone before she had a chance to be certain of what she’d seen. “Shall we go get a drink?”

  She linked arms with him, wishing that it was as simple as her parents wanted it to be. Falling in love with Gavin Abernathy would be easy enough, she supposed. And in so doing, she’d please her grandmother and her parents to no end. She’d move the Rush dynasty forward into a new era.

  But sadly, she didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Gavin. She was falling for Marcus Alvarez instead. A man from the wrong side of the tracks. A man her father would never truly accept. A man who might not even be willing to make a life in Storm. They’d agreed to let things play out. See where it led. But the truth was the whole thing scared her to death. Her feelings for Marcus were just so… so… big.

  It would be so much easier if she could fall for Gavin.

  She looked up at him and sighed.

  But, for better or worse, that ship had already sailed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Hannah let herself in the front door with a heavy heart. She’d looked everywhere. She’d covered the square and the streets surrounding it. She’d walked the neighborhood. She’d even gone to her practice in case her dog had found his way back there. But no Fred.

  Damn it all to hell.

  She was always really careful when someone new came into her life. And Lupe, her housekeeper, took better care of the animals than she did—which was saying a lot. Hannah paused mid-thought. Lupe. Maybe she had Fred. It was stupid not to have called her in the first place. She’d let Tate’s interruption throw her off completely.

  Hannah walked into the living room intent on making the call, but froze when something in the shadows shifted. Something—someone—was sitting on her sofa. With trembling fingers she flipped on the light and the hulking shadow took form.

  Tucker—with Fred.

  “What in the hell are you doing in here?” she asked, her hand moving to her throat, where her pulse was pounding. “I know I locked the door.”

  Tucker¸ still holding her dog, held up a hand, a key dangling from one finger. “You hide the spare in the geranium pot.”

  “You scared the life out of me.”

  “Sorry. We just got here. And I figured Fred just reappearing would be a tad unnerving, so I thought I’d wait. I sure as hell didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “So you decided to sit and wait in the dark?”

  “I didn’t think about it really. Anyway, the prodigal dog has returned. Surely, you can overlook a little breaking and entering under the circumstances.”

  As if he was following the conversation, Fred gave a yip and jumped from Tucker’s arms to race across the floor to Hannah. Crouching down, she rubbed the soft fur between his fuzzy ears, murmuring admonishments for his abdication.

  “Where was he?” she asked, scooping the little dog into her arms.

  “Halfway to the ranch. Found him on the side of the highway. Seemed rather pleased with himself, but he offered no resistance when I stopped to pick him up.”

  “I’ve no idea how he got out.” She squeezed the dog. “You gave me one hell of a scare, fella. I hope you’ll try to stick closer to home in the future.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for wanting some adventure.” Tucker shot her a lopsided grin and her stomach started doing handstands. “Although if I was lucky enough to live here, I doubt you could get me out with a crowbar.”

  Hannah swallowed, reminding herself that Tucker was Tate’s brother. His brother. The admonishment did nothing to stop her heart from pounding against her chest. Her hands were actually clammy. She was reacting like a teenager. Tucker’s gaze followed her as she walked across the room to the kitchen to get Fred something to eat. Maybe a little distance would help her calm down.

  She’d always reacted strongly to Tucker. As kids, they’d fought mostly. Him heading in one direction and her in another. She wasn’t even sure she’d liked him. She and Tara had always been friends, which meant she’d spent time hanging around Double J. She’d always loved it. Animals everywhere. Her idea of heaven, actually. But she’d never really spent time with Tara’s brothers. And when she had, at family picnics and parties and so forth, it was the outgoing Tate with whom she’d been more compatible. Tucker had always been too intense. Too quiet. Always watching—as if he were an appointed observer and not part of the action.

  Then they’d all gone away to college. Hannah to A&M for vet school and Tara and her brothers to UT. She’d kept in touch with Tara during breaks and summers. But then Tara had married Bryce and Hannah had headed to Refugio to assist an aging vet in taking care of the area ranchers’ livestock.

  It had been a grueling couple of years, but the training had prepared her to come home and open her own practice. Her friendship with Tara had been renewed, and somewhere along the way—funny she couldn’t actually remember when or how—she and Tate had become a “thing.”

  Which was an incredibly unromantic way to think about it. Still, Tate was a good man. Even if he didn’t understand her need to nurture every animal that crossed her path. He was successful and well liked. And apparently on his way to big things.

  She frowned and set the bowl on the floor, shooing away the other two dogs so that Fred could eat. “Here you go, sweetie. Eat up.” The dog dug in with gusto.

  “You’ve got quite the menagerie going,” Tucker observed as Pooh, Digger, and Molly, the cat, gyrated around her ankles. Astaire and Engine eyed the goings on from the safety of the kitchen counter. Tucker stood in the doorway, dwarfing the room with his size, his gaze taking in the chaos of the kitchen with a tolerant smile. “Can’t imagine you not surrounded by miscreants.”

  “They’re not miscreants. Just a little needy.”

  “And you’re the right woman to make them feel loved.” He took a step closer and she forgot for a moment to breathe. There was just something about him—his stillness, his intensity, his…just being—that called to her. Always had. Even though she still didn’t really understand it.

  God, how could she be so callous? She was dating the man’s brother. She swallowed and would have stepped back, but the kitchen counter was behind her. He braced his hands on either side of her.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For bringing Fred home, that is.”

  “Seems to me something so momentous deserves more than just words.” His breath washed over her, and she shivered, her gaze locking with his.

  She knew she should move. Make a joke. Break the tension. Anything at all. But instead, she lifted her chin and ran her tongue over her lips, relishing the heat building in her gut.

  “We shouldn’t…” she murmured as he bent his head, his lips brushing across hers.

  “Probably not,” he replied, his mouth taking possession of hers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

  * * * *

  In some distant part of his brain, Tucker knew that this was wrong. That his feelings for Hannah had to be ignored, sequestered—forgotten. He respected his brother. Hell, he loved the guy. But this thing for Hannah. It wasn’t so easily dismissed.

  God knew he’d tried.

  And most of the time he’d managed. But lately, it was getting harder. First in the horse barn when the foal had been born. If she hadn’t pulled back… And now, well now, she was here in his arms, and there wasn’t anything on this earth that was going to separate them.

  He tilted his head, taking the kiss deeper, reveling in the feel of her fingers in his hair. He cupped her neck, pulling her closer, his other hand dropping to her jeans-clad ass, pressing her against his hard-on. It felt like she belonged there. Like she was part of him. The perfect fit. All of which made absolutely no sense at all.

  Still there was no denying that he wanted her. Wanted her enough to cuckold his brother.

  Fucking shit.

  He pushed back, their breath mingling as their gazes locked.

 
; “I don’t want to screw up your life, Hannah. And I sure as hell don’t want to screw up Tate’s.”

  She nodded, tears filling her beautiful eyes. God, he hated when women cried. It damn near unmanned him. Especially when it was Hannah.

  “How can this be wrong?” she whispered. “When I want it so much.”

  “Sweet Hannah.” He sighed, throwing caution to the wind. He’d spent his whole damn life trying to walk the straight and narrow path. Do the right thing. And so far the effort hadn’t paid off at all. Maybe it was time to ignore his brain and trust his heart. Even though there was sure to be hell to pay. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation. Her fingers stroked his temples and her gaze never left his. “I’m positive. Sometimes you just have to take what you want. Damn the consequences.”

  Her words echoed his thoughts so closely he smiled, then bent his head to capture her lips again. The kiss was fierce. As if they both knew they were on borrowed time. But there was a gentleness there as well. Something damn close to reverence. This was Hannah. And if this was all he had, he sure as hell was going to make the most of it.

  Something warm and fuzzy twined around his ankles.

  “Damn cat.” He laughed, swinging Hannah up into his arms. “What do you say we adjourn to the bedroom where we won’t have an audience?”

  “Better move fast.” She smiled. “They’re really quick. And sadly, very inquisitive.”

  With moves to rival an NFL quarterback, he dodged Digger and Fred, stepped over Molly and managed to slam the door in Pooh and Engine’s incredibly interested faces.

  “Alone at last.” She grinned up at him as he released her. The game of Dodge Hannah’s Animals should have broken the spell, interrupted the mood, but he found his need had only ratcheted higher.

  She sobered as he framed her face with his hands, his heart pounding as he watched her slowly lick her lips again.

  “Last chance,” he offered. “I can walk out of here right now. It won’t be pretty but I can do it. But if I touch you again…” He broke off, suddenly afraid that she’d changed her mind.

  “Touch me,” she said, reaching for the buttons on her blouse. “Touch me everywhere.”

  He wasn’t about to ask again. With fumbling hands, he pulled the buttons on her blouse free, baring the skin beneath. Her lacy white bra accented her tanned skin, outlining her breasts with mouth-watering clarity.

  He bent her back, bracing her on his arm, and dipped his head to circle one beaded nipple with his tongue. Her moan of pleasure was nearly his undoing. With a quick flick, he unhooked the lacy satin and freed both breasts, tossing aside her shirt as well.

  “What’s good for the goose,” she quipped lightly as she reached down for the hem of his T-shirt, freeing it from the waist of his jeans and pulling it over his head. He pulled her close, relishing the feel of her skin against his, her hands as they stroked his shoulders, his back.

  His lips found hers and the kiss was incendiary. As if they’d been waiting all these years for this particular day. This particular moment. As if he’d been waiting forever just for her.

  God, he had it bad.

  Dropping to his knees, he undid the button on her jeans, pulling them downward, her hands in his hair, urging him on. Her stomach was taut and muscled, her skin as smooth as silk. Her legs were long and lithe. His mind presented the image of them wrapped around him as he drove deep into her heat.

  He skimmed his hands over her hips, pushing her jeans down until she could step free. She stood before him, naked except for a pair of satin panties, her long golden braid looped over her shoulder. God, he could feel his body reacting and he was just looking at her. He pushed to his feet and swallowed, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “Come here,” he ordered, passion deepening his voice to a rasp.

  She stepped closer, her chin lifting, her blue eyes darkened with passion.

  He reached out for the end of her braid, slipping off the rubber band that held it in place. Golden hair spilled over her shoulders and into his hands. So silky. So sensuous. “God, Hannah, I’ve wanted you for so damn long.”

  “Me, too.” She stepped closer, thrusting her breasts against his chest, twining her fingers through his hair. “So take me, Tucker. Please, take me now.”

  He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her against the cool cotton of the sheets. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he stretched out beside her, running a hand along the curve of her breast and the swell of her hip.

  Then slowly, he bent his head and kissed the hollow of her neck, feeling her pulse as it beat against his lips. Then he slid his mouth lower, tracing the line between her breasts and then moving over to take one breast into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and then bit lightly and sucked. Hard. With a moan, she arched against him, her hands threading through his hair, urging him on. He suckled deeply and then moved his attentions to the other breast as his fingers stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs.

  His groin tightened with anticipation and he shifted lower to kiss her belly, then lower still to press his mouth against her soft core. Using his shoulders, he nudged her legs apart and closed his eyes, allowing her essence to surround him. His body was hard, aching with need, but he wanted nothing more in this moment than to bring her pleasure.

  “Oh, God, Tucker,” she moaned as he brushed his tongue against her.

  He circled slowly, stroking, tasting. And then drew the tiny nub into his mouth and sucked, her body arching up off the bed, her fingers tangled in the sheets as she tried to maintain control.

  “Come for me, Hannah,” he urged, feeling her body tighten with need and anticipation. “Show me how much you want me.”

  He stroked again with his tongue, at the same time sliding his fingers deep inside her. She arched her back, coming up off the bed, but he held her in place with one large hand covering her stomach. Her body shuddered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as she climaxed and called his name.

  * * * *

  Hannah lay back, her breathing resuming something close to a normal cadence as Tucker’s warm body cocooned hers. She’d never felt like this. Not with anyone. Ever. It was as if he completed her—was part of her. The only thing that could possibly ever make her whole. She’d never felt so wrung out or so alive. He made her want to scream. To sing out his name. To hold on and never let go.

  He made her feel things she didn’t even know she was capable of.

  He stroked her breast, his big hand covering it almost completely, and her body began to wake again, desire and need reasserting themselves—reminding her that there was more. Much more. She rolled toward him, her hands caressing the hard, long length of him. His shoulders, his stomach, his hips. He pulled her closer, his lips taking hers again, the heat inside her building to an inferno.

  She could never remember wanting anyone with this kind of hunger and passion. She drank in his essence as if it were sustenance, the very food of life. It was as if she’d been starving and suddenly was presented with a feast. His kiss deepened and his hands were everywhere. Touching, stroking, leaving a fiery path in their wake.

  She pushed against him, her body throbbing now with her need.

  “Now,” she moaned and opened her legs in invitation. “Please, Tucker, now.”

  He lifted above her, balanced on his strong, sinewy arms, his eyes devouring her as he positioned his hips between her thighs. She arched upward, meeting him halfway, and with one smooth thrust he was inside her, filling her. For a moment they were still, and then he moved, sliding almost out and then thrusting home again.

  Her whole body rejoiced with the movement, intense pleasure rippling through her. This was what it was supposed to be. This was who it was supposed to be. For a moment her mind rebelled, but she pushed the thought away. Tomorrow she’d face reality. Tonight—tonight it was just her and Tucker.

  He thrust again and she followed h
is lead, matching her rhythm to his, giving as well as taking. They moved as though they’d done this a million times before. As though theirs was a pairing beyond all space and time. She felt as if she’d come home. She felt as if this was her everything.

  The thought should have scared her. But it didn’t. It only made her long for more. She wrapped her legs around him, lifting her hips, taking him deeper. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of their bodies, thrusting deep and then deeper still. She drank in his essence, wanting nothing more than their union. Two souls becoming one.

  Faster and faster they moved. Coming together deeper and harder. More. Always wanting more. She pressed against him, the friction of her breasts against the hair on his chest sublime. Pressure built, and pleasure bordered on pain, and still they moved together striving for more—more—more.

  Her body tensed and then exploded, fissures of pleasure wracking through synapses, every nerve on fire—for him. She screamed his name, white light exploding behind her eyes, her body contracting from extreme gratification. She was flying free. Out of control but beyond caring. There was nothing but the two of them—joined in a climax that threatened to rob her of all sanity.

  And somehow in the midst of her pleasure she felt him stiffen, felt him drive deeper and deeper still, finding his release as his fingers twined in her hair.

  As long as she lived, she’d remember this moment. Remember the magic. Remember the feel of him moving inside her. With a shuddering sigh, she buried her face in his neck, inhaled the masculine fragrance that was uniquely his. His arms closed around her, his breath stirring the hair at her temples.

  For a moment the soft silence of aftermath enveloped them and then she heard the squeaking of the door.

  “Son of a bitch.” The harsh bass of Tate’s voice broke through the placid warmth. “Tucker, what the fuck are you doing in bed with my girlfriend?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Tucker moved really fast for such a big man. He was out of bed and into his jeans almost before Hannah had time to pull the sheet up to her chin. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she gulped for air, feeling like she’d just detonated the biggest of all bombs.