Heather's Gift

by Lora Leigh

  He heard Cade groan, and knew the cunt gripping his brother’s cock had tightened to an almost painful measure. Sweat dripped along his forehead, down his back. He pulled back and began to stroke into the gripping depths of her ass. Below, Cade gripped her hips, his cock thrusting hard and deep inside her pussy, in perfect counterpoint to the shaft stroking her rectum.

  Marly was nearly screaming their names now. Twisting between them, begging Cade for the orgasm building inside her.

  “Yeah,” Sam whispered, his voice harsh. “Come, Marly. Come, baby. Tighten on my cock more.”

  Sam was almost whimpering, the pleasure was so extreme. He needed her to come. Needed to feel her orgasm rippling through her cunt, tightening her muscles further. He felt Cade’s strokes intensify through the thin wall of flesh that separated the invaded channels. He matched the rhythm, feeling her tense, feeling the walls of her anus ripple, tremble. Then with a surge of strength, her muscles clamped down on his pistoning flesh as she screamed out her release. Cade was crying out, slamming deep inside her, holding her close. Then Sam could hold back no longer. He pushed in hard and fast. Again, then again, as blistering waves of heat streaked from his stomach, up his back, and through his cock.

  He exploded as he powered inside her. Thrusting hard and fast even as his cock erupted, spewing his semen into the willing, greedy depths of her ass. The added sensations, agonizing in intensity, pushed his release higher as he buried inside her, deep and hard one last time. His body shuddered as she tightened again. She was shaking, crying, holding onto Cade as she fell slowly back to earth.

  Fighting for breath, Sam eased out of her, watching as his seed marred the cream and peach perfection of her little hole. Shaking, he removed a small towel from another drawer under the seat and gently cleaned her.

  Cade was still buried inside her, his voice soft, soothing, as he calmed her. The intensity of her orgasms when with the brothers often threw her into unconsciousness. She hated that, and could pout for days over it. Thankfully, Cade seemed to have found a cure.

  Sam collapsed in his seat again, breathing deeply. Guilt lingered inside him, a fear that he was hurting, rather than loving the petite woman he had known for so long. But he was calm now. That hard, cold core of rage and hatred he often felt growing inside him had thawed, for now.

  Marly’s soft laughter drew his gaze to the pair once again. Cade had eased up and fixed his jeans, and was now helping Marly to dress once again. He whispered to her gently as she smiled in pleasure, in happiness. His brother, once hard and bitter, seeped in the nightmares of the past, had eased under Marly’s loving and her acceptance. As they all had in some ways.

  It was the same for Brock. Sarah eased his demons as well. She healed him with love and soothed him with laughter, and though Sam never felt left out, he still felt apart.

  Chapter Eight

  Heather knew when she saw the trio step from the back of the limo what had happened during the ride from the hospital. She watched Sam’s expression carefully, seeing an easing of the tension that had been growing during his hospital stay. His eyes weren’t cold and hard, his face wasn’t still and dangerous. He looked ready to cause mischief again, until he saw her.

  She watched as the animation in his face stilled. Sadness flashed in his eyes, and regret. But no guilt. Of course, there was no reason for guilt. They weren’t lovers, they weren’t even friends anymore. Despite the sexual heat building between them, he hadn’t touched her since before the attack nearly two months earlier. Hadn’t touched her, and he appeared in no hurry to do so. But he did touch his brothers’ women.

  Jealousy raged through her system. Her fingers curled with the need to rage at him. Her chest ached with the tears she refused to shed.

  “You can’t change him, Heather.” Tara stepped behind her, watching as the trio talked after getting out of the limo.

  “I didn’t say I wanted to, Tara,” she said softly. She knew she did though. She wanted him, heart, body and soul, the same way he could have her, if he would accept it.

  Tara didn’t reply as the three made their way to the porch. They were flanked by the two bodyguards who rode in the limo, their weapons carried in readiness.

  “I’m getting sick of this, Tara,” Cade bit out as the door closed behind them. “I have a damned ranch to run.”

  Tara sighed as Heather watched Sam glance around the house. There was little privacy now within the huge ranch house.

  “We’re working on it, Cade,” Tara promised him, her voice firm though not in the least conciliatory. “Rick should be back tonight with the information he went after, so hopefully, we’ll have answers soon.”

  “I’m going upstairs.” Sam’s voice broke through the beginnings of yet another heated argument over the safeguards in place around the ranch and the August family.

  Heather knew they were all beginning to chafe under the restrictions, and the stress of waiting on a damned phantom that struck when they least expected it.

  “Not yet, Sam.” Heather watched as Tara went to block him.

  “Stop.” The barely leashed violence in Sam’s tone stopped her in her tracks.

  Heather watched in surprise as Sam’s expression hardened, his eyes turning cold and bleak.

  “Sam, I need to know what the hell happened,” Tara argued.

  “Then call the sheriff,” he growled, moving past her. “I need a shower and a fucking nap. Not a bunch of questions that I’ve answered already.”

  He stalked past her. As her sister went to stop him again, Heather laid her hand on the other woman’s arm warningly. “Let him go, Tara. Now is the wrong time.”

  Tara turned on them, her gaze going to Cade rather than Heather.

  “How the hell am I supposed to protect his ass?” she bit out. “He wanders around at all hours of the night, refuses to take the bodyguards with him, and refuses to answer questions. Where does that leave us, Cade?”

  They were all worried about Sam. The past months, the dark anger barely glimpsed in his gray blue eyes was growing. He was tenser than ever before, angrier.

  Cade turned to Heather, his gray eyes swirling with concern and rage.

  “You’re the only one that can stop this, Heather.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. How the hell was she supposed to stop any of it?

  “Goddammit, Cade,” Tara snapped out then, her voice raising. “Don’t try to pull her into this mess.”

  “It’s her decision, Tara,” he growled furiously. “Stop playing nursemaid to her, it won’t help anything.”

  “And fucking the August men in some glorified orgy will?” Her voice was raising, anger surging through it.

  “Dammit, Tara, shut the hell up,” Heather snapped out, moving between the two combatants. “It’s not up to any of you, it’s up to Sam and me, and he doesn’t want me here. So the question is not debatable.”

  Cade’s head snapped around, his eyes penetrating, filled with cynical derision. “Are you insane, Heather? There’s nothing Sam wants more in this world than he wants you. Don’t play the fool at this late date.”

  Heather took a deep, steadying breath. “He’s damned good at denial then. But still, that’s beside the point.” She looked at Marly, seeing the glimmer of humor in the other woman’s eyes, the way she watched Cade and Tara as though they were children, arguing over a prized toy. The woman never ceased to amaze her.

  “Heather’s right,” Marly said firmly, placing her hand on Cade’s muscular arm. “Sam has to work this out for himself, and so does Heather. All the arguing in the world won’t change that, Cade.”

  He swiped his fingers through his thick black hair. “Dammit, Marly, he’s going to get himself killed.”

  The dark fear that pulsed in Cade’s voice seemed to fill the entire entryway. The bond the men shared went far deeper than that of any sibling relationship that Heather had ever known.

  “I’ll talk to him, Cade,” Heather promised. As Tara went to protest, she held up her hand
with a sharp shake of her head. “This isn’t any of your business, Tara. It’s mine and Sam’s.”

  “Goddammit.” Tara turned and stomped through the house then, the sound of her boots a rapping tap on the hardwood floor that had Heather wincing. Tara only did that when she was really pissed.

  “Heather, Sam’s getting too reckless,” Cade bit out, his voice lowered in concern. “No matter what he says, try to stay closer to him. Stop letting him run you off.”

  “Cade, I can’t make Sam do anything,” she said firmly as she pushed the fingers of both hands through her hair. “He doesn’t want me around.”

  “But he does, Heather.” Marly turned to her then, her blue eyes soft, understanding. “That’s the problem. Sam wants you too badly.”

  Heather snorted. “And you know this how?”

  “Because it’s your name he cries out while he’s coming in her,” Cade growled as Marly rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Dammit, Marly, there’s no sense in beating around the damned bush here. If she doesn’t know by now, then she never will.”

  “There’s no sense in being crude either,” Marly snapped back, frowning up at him with an edge of steel that surprised Heather.

  Cade grimaced as he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked away for several seconds. When his gaze returned, it was softer, apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Marly’s right, there’s no excuse for that.”

  “Cade, just because I’m aware of your lifestyle, doesn’t mean I agree with it.” Heather crossed her arms over her breasts, watching him curiously.

  She had been more than aware of the speculation in both Cade and Brock’s expressions the few times she had caught them looking her way. It wasn’t lust, not in the normal sense. It was hard to put her finger on it. An emotion swirled in their eyes, affection definitely, but still, an undefined something.

  Sexual lust she could have understood. She saw it often when each man looked at his respective lover. But that unnamed emotion was there when they touched, or looked at each other’s lovers as well. The emotion Cade felt for Sarah, what Brock felt for Marly, and now, that same look was being shared with Heather. It was confusing, and often kept her awake long into the night as she tried to define it.

  “Your approval isn’t what we’re asking for, Heather.” Marly’s voice chilled, her head raising proudly. “We’re asking you to stay closer to Sam. To attempt to temper his recklessness. Don’t pretend you don’t want him, just as he can’t pretend he doesn’t want you. Give him something besides the demons to concentrate on, if you truly love him as much as I suspect you do.”

  Heather took a deep breath, her lips pressing together in irritation as she confronted Marly. She had rarely seen the other woman anything less than easygoing and smiling. This edge of finely tempered maturity she glimpsed in her was a surprise.

  “And if you’re wrong, Marly?” she asked her softly, staring directly into the dark blue eyes that regarded her coolly. “What if it’s no more than lust? What then?”

  Marly smiled, her expression softening, her eyes warming with compassion.

  “We know Sam, Heather. He won’t be easy, because he cares. I can almost guarantee I’m not wrong.”

  “Almost.” Heather shook her head roughly. “I can’t believe I’m about to trust my heart to an almost.”

  Chapter Nine

  Heather knocked on Sam’s door softly before turning the knob and opening it slowly. “Sam?” She entered the bedroom, stepping slowly inside as she saw him standing at the window, staring into the distance, his body tense as she stood silently and watched him.

  Their gazes met in the bulletproof glass. His hooded and dark, hers quiet and questioning. She wanted to go to him, to touch him, ease him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “Aren’t you on duty tonight?”

  She bit her lip, fighting the pain his words caused.

  “I remember when you used to sneak out and meet me wherever Rick had me stationed,” she said quietly, allowing the regret to sound through her voice. “What happened to that, Sam? We were friends. For a little while.”

  He had always laughed when he found her, because he had managed to slip away from Rick and his men. Then he would tease her, those thickly lashed eyes lowered sensually as he watched her blush and her nipples harden.

  “The first time he struck, we thought the stalker was Marly’s stepfather,” he said quietly. “When Jack Jennings tried to take her, we never questioned his ranting that someone else had contacted him, told him how to get to Marly. We couldn’t find Anna, so we’d assumed he finally got to her, and then came for Marly. We thought we were safe, that the past couldn’t touch us ever again.”

  He turned to her then, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his expression lined with the bitterness of the years.

  “We’ll find him, Sam,” she promised him softly. “There are three different agencies working on this, not to mention the law enforcement officials. We’ll catch him.”

  He took a deep breath. “When Brock went after Sarah, we found out that the stalker hadn’t been caught after all,” he continued. “But still, we prayed our past wasn’t reaching out to dirty those two women any more than it already had. We thought we could survive, that we could catch him.” He swallowed tightly. “I thought I had a chance, a right to love, Heather, until he attacked you.”

  Heather crossed her arms over her breasts and drew in a deep breath. She fought her tears, the blinding pain she felt each time she saw the brutal memories in Sam’s eyes.

  “Sam, he’ll mess up soon…”

  He shook his head, cynicism washing over his face, his gaze hardening. “Eventually, he will. When he does, he’s a dead man. But what if, Heather, what if he kills you? Or maims you so terribly you can never face life or love the same?”

  It was a risk she was taking, and it terrified her. She knew enough of the August history to know what the August brothers had endured. Endless months of pain and brutality. A hell most men would have never survived.

  “That’s a cop-out, Sam,” she whispered sadly. “You know you won’t stop him now. It won’t matter if you love me or hate me, if you fuck me or you revile me. The bastard will see me as your weakness. I’m still in danger.”

  He flinched. A hard, sharp movement that tore at her heart as he turned away from her again.

  “You don’t talk to me anymore,” she finally said moments later when he didn’t speak again. “I miss that, Sam. Just talking to you.”

  She moved toward him, watching him watch her, seeing the bittersweet arousal that glittered in his eyes. He was furious. She could see it in every taut line of his body. Furious over the danger to his family, furious over his desire for her. She knew that much. Knew that the heat and fire that tore through her body was matched in his.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Heather,” he bit out, jerking the curtains close over the window before he turned to her. “What the fuck should I say, baby? What do you want me to do? Maybe, just fucking maybe, if I stay the hell away from you, he won’t hurt you again.” His voice was strangled. “Do you have any fucking idea what it did to me, to see you bleeding like that, then to see the fucking scars he left on you?”

  “Well it wasn’t exactly a picnic for me, Sam.” The ire in her voice more than matched his, she made sure of it. “But do you think hiding from it is really going to help anything. You’re stalking around this damned house like an animal, growling at everyone and ready to fight at any opportunity. How does that help?”

  “And what do you suggest instead?” he asked her bitterly. “Do you think fucking you is going to stop it, Heather? That I’ll turn into some little tame pussycat that you can stroke and cuddle with when you need to? Goddammit, what kind of freakin’ fairy tale are you living in?”

  His rage cut through her like a knife, cutting into her soul, wounding her not with his words, but with the pain that creased his expression.

  “Definitely not yours,
” she yelled back. “Because yours is nothing but a damned pity party and a lot of hot, bitter looks. You’re going to get yourself killed, Sam. Dead. The bastard will kill you, and he’ll kill your family with your death. Is that what you really want?”

  He stilled, the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he stared back at her.

  “Keeping you safe is not a damned pity party,” he growled.

  “What about your family?” she snapped back. “You ran out of here the other night and refused to tell anyone you were even leaving, and walked right into a murder. That’s not a man whose only thought is protecting his family.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. There, then gone. A knowledge of something he was clearly keeping hidden. Over the past year Heather had come to know Sam better than he was aware. She knew when he was hiding something, when he was fighting his own desires, and when he was lying. He was hiding something, something important.

  “What happened, Sam?” she asked suspiciously. “What did Tate say when he called?”

  His look was brooding, intent, as he watched her.

  “Sam?”

  “He just asked me to meet him.” He crossed his arms over his chest, challenging her to prove otherwise.

  “You’re lying to me, Sam.” It tore at her heart, because she had seen him hide from others, but never her. Not until now. “What happened?”

  “Heather.” The gentleness in his voice had her breath catching in need, in fear.

  She watched him silently as he came to her. Tall and broad and so sexy he nearly mesmerized her. And sad. So very sad it tore at her soul. He stopped in front of her, his fingers reaching out to touch her cheek and she watched the small flush of arousal that heated his face.

  “Sam, what happened?” He was frightening her, terrifying her with his recklessness.

  “Nothing that can hurt you or me, baby. Not anymore,” he promised her. “He can’t hurt anyone now. And I can’t say I’m not glad to see his ass gone. But you’re right, it was stupid to run out like that. It won’t happen again.”