Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

  “What?”

  “We had a deal. This is my kiss.”

  His fingers relaxed infinitesimally on her neck. Highlighting just how subtle his control had been. “So it is.”

  She fitted her mouth to his, rubbing gently until she found that perfect spot that sent tingles shooting inward, wishing she knew more than she did, wanting to make this a kiss he remembered, wanting against reason to be memorable.

  Again that soothing touch on her neck. His mouth opened against hers, guiding her, she realized.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Ace took her gratitude and upped it with the lightest touch of his tongue. Those tingles burst into streaks of lightning. She returned the caress, and he moaned. She did it again, and again, experimenting with going deeper, wider, turning her head so her tongue could touch his. It wasn’t enough.

  “More,” he whispered, slipping his thigh between hers.

  Yes, she wanted more. She’d noticed Ace the first day she’d walked into town, and he’d made sure she could never give up that infatuation, teasing and taunting her, irritating her with his very existence. And now it was her turn to tease him. His lips were full, fuller than she expected, softer than she expected but so good. Giving in to the wildness throbbing inside, she nibbled and bit at his mouth, demanding something he needed to give.

  He groaned deep in his throat. She stood higher on her toes, pulling him down, dragging herself up, rubbing her breasts against his chest, trying to get closer, but she couldn’t. There was no way she could get close enough. The kiss was good, but it wasn’t good enough, and she didn’t know what to do. She dug her nails into the back of his neck in silent demand. Again she got that look that asked for the words. She blushed at the thought. But what choice did she have? This was her one chance, and she wasn’t done with it yet.

  She had to struggle to find her voice and when she did, it was a breathy thread of sound that took the command out of her order. “Fix it.”

  He didn’t seem to have the same trouble. His voice was deep and even and seductive in its calm. “You know our deal.”

  This time it was her turn to growl but not with passion. “Not that.” Nipping his lip, she snapped, “This.”

  Catching her chin in his hand, he held her still, his mouth just inches from hers. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away. God, she wanted him.

  “Do you want my mouth, Pet?”

  She nodded.

  With a little jiggle of her chin, he snapped her gaze to his. “Not good enough. Do you want my mouth?”

  Why did he have to be so demanding?

  She nodded again, hoping it would suffice, not willing to give him everything, not understanding how he could resist the fire she could feel burning just beyond her reach. She could only imagine how good it would feel while he had to know.

  His fingers rubbed against her nape; his thumb crept over her cheek, catching the corner of her mouth, pressing gently, forcing her lips to part naturally around it. She touched it with her tongue. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t give ground.

  “If you want it, my Pet, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

  “Kiss me.”

  She’d thought he’d kiss her then, but though his eyes narrowed, all he did was hold her still and give another order, “Ask nicely.”

  She wanted to stomp his toe. “Just kiss me.”

  A tap on her cheek made her look up again. There was desire in the hard lines of his face and the softness of his mouth, but in his eyes...in his eyes was the will of a man who expected to be obeyed. A shiver she didn’t understand went down her spine. Between her legs, moisture gathered.

  “Say it right,” he ordered.

  He wanted her to beg. She wasn’t a begging woman, but the word slipped past her control, filling the silence between them with an import she didn’t understand. “Please.”

  It was enough. With a curse that sounded like the sweetest music to her impatient ear, he stepped in, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her into his body, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, breast to chest, mouth-to-mouth. Oh, God, mouth-to-mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer still. Another growl, and his mouth smoothed across hers. Against her groin, his erection pressed. Thick, hard and foreign. A shock at first followed by a soothing burst of pleasure. She had the urge to spread her thighs, to grind against him, but she couldn’t move, and even that was good. So good, and she was so hungry. The hot, wet touch of his tongue along the seam of her lips had her jumping again.

  “Open.”

  This order growled against her mouth didn’t annoy her at all. She opened, willingly, eagerly, joyfully, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears, it blocked out the world, and there was only him. Ace took advantage of her surrender, full, wonderful, glorious advantage, claiming her mouth in a single thrust of his tongue. She opened wider; he teased further. His breath became hers; his moan hers and hers his, she realized. It was a blending; it was a mating; it was a... She couldn’t find the word but the feeling. Oh, the feeling! It surged forward out of the most primitive part of her in an exultant burst of joy. Free at last; she was free. And just in that moment when she would have given that moment a name, Ace fisted his hand on her bun and pulled her mouth from his, leaving her aching as he stepped back.

  For a second, Petunia couldn’t comprehend what had happened. The only things that kept her from tumbling were the wall at her back and his hand on her arm. She felt bereft and abandoned. Lost.

  “You’ve got your deal.”

  A slap to the face couldn’t have been more shocking than his withdrawal. The afternoon sun had sunk behind the buildings, and she felt the chill of the shadows sink into her bones, even as he took that second step away. For him, it had been nothing more than a kiss, probably one of thousands, but for her it had been a moment that shook her world in ways that was going to take days to figure out. She licked her lips, tasting him. Her breasts felt swollen and tender, and when she looked down, her nipples were evident through her clothes. She brought her hands up, only realizing the mistake of that when he laughed.

  Jerking out of his grip, she felt her bun give and her hair fall around her shoulders. Petunia didn’t need to look into Ace’s face to know he’d only been amusing himself. He was who he was, and she was a fool.

  “Bastard.”

  He had the gall to smile. “I assure you, my parents were married.”

  She hated that he could be so reasonable when she was fumbling just to get her tongue around words.

  “Our bargain’s done?” she asked, yanking her jacket down and untangling her reticule from her wrist, pretending that her nipples weren’t still tingling, that her breath still wasn’t raspy, that her voice wasn’t a shadow of its former conviction.

  Ace picked his hat up off the doorknob and settled it on his head as he nodded, studying her in a way that made her want to... She didn’t know what it made her want to do but whatever it was, it wasn’t what she was used to, and she didn’t want to explore it while he watched.

  “You’ll give back the money?”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  She reached behind her for the door. She wanted away. He stopped her before she got her hand on the knob.

  “Not that way.”

  Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell. Her second was to swear. He was right. She couldn’t go through the saloon. She didn’t want to go down the alley, either, but she didn’t have much of a option. He took her arm as she hesitated.

  “You go that way, you won’t get home before dark.”

  That was the truth. This late the streets started to get wild, and schoolmarm or not, a woman alone was easy prey for the miners and cowhands who flooded the town when they got a bit of gold dust in their pocket.

 
“Come.”

  “Does everything you say have to come out an order?”

  “Yes.”

  Twisting her hair back up into a bun as she skipped to keep up, she muttered, “I don’t like it.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  She didn’t think so.

  He steered her down the alley to two buildings over and opened a door. It was the mercantile; she should have thought of that herself.

  He said, “Go through here.”

  Part of her hoped there was some gallantry trapped somewhere inside him because he didn’t leave her to find her own way home, but more of her wanted to believe he was a reprobate that she could dismiss as a mistake. Her “Thank you” came out choked. His “You’re welcome” was just as tight.

  That tightness in his voice could be because the moment had affected him just as much as it had her, but she didn’t fool herself into believing it was the truth. She might be an old maid who didn’t get kissed often, but if the stories were to be believed, he was a man who spent a lot of his time in other women’s beds. And what he did there was something that was whispered about and speculated on, but she never understood why his bed sport created so many blushes and twitters among the loose women of town until now. The man was a warlock. She wasn’t going to be just another conquest to him.

  “Thank you for the kiss.”

  His eyebrow rose. She smiled, not giving him any option but to respond in kind.

  “You’re welcome.”

  It was time to go. She didn’t want to. Hugging her arms to her chest, she asked one last time, more to delay rather than because she doubted his word. Ace was many things, but she’d never heard he wasn’t a man of his word.

  With her hand on the doorknob she asked, “You’ll give Brian back his money?”

  She couldn’t see his eyes between the shadows of his hat and the creeping of dusk, but there was no mistaking the promise in his voice.

  He tipped his hat. “I’ll handle it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NEXT MORNING, Ace ate breakfast, ignored the shocked looks from the women not used to seeing him up before 3:00 p.m., settled his hat on his head and walked out of the saloon. Before the doors stopped swinging behind him, his best friend and fellow ranger, Luke Bellen, pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him, his dark gray duster flapping around his legs. He’d clearly been waiting for him.

  “Morning.”

  Ace looked over. “You’re up early.”

  Luke shrugged. “More like late. I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  “Was she any good?”

  Luke smiled. “Good enough.”

  As they stepped off the walk, the wind kicked up, blowing fine brown dust on everything.

  “Figures,” Luke said, looking down at the particles clinging to his shiny black boots. “I just got these cleaned.”

  “They’re boots,” Ace pointed out. “They spend all day in the dirt. They’re not supposed to be pretty.”

  Luke glanced at Ace’s scuffed, well-worn brown footwear and shook his head. “If you’re going to stick with this gambling thing, you need to pay more attention to your wardrobe.”

  Ace shrugged. Gambling was an outlet. It gave him a rush of excitement. It kept his mind from dwelling on other things. It was a bit of competition when things got dull, a chance to beat the odds. He liked to beat the odds. “I haven’t made up my mind if I’m sticking with it.”

  “Still, if you’re going to play the role, you ought to look the part.”

  “I look just fine.”

  “You look pissed.”

  “Really?” He reached in his pocket for his makings. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve got your hat pulled down low.”

  Pausing, he shook some tobacco onto a paper. “I could be blocking the dust,” he said, licking the paper to help seal it up.

  Luke held out his hand for the makings when he was done. “Or you could be pissed.”

  Ace stepped up on the walk on the far side of the street. “Looks like I’m going to have to break that habit.”

  Luke shrugged and shook tobacco onto a paper. “Most can’t tell. Unfortunately for you, I’ve known you since we were infants sharing a crib.”

  Striking a sulfur on a boot heel, Ace shielded his smoke from the wind. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he muttered around it, “Only reason we had to share a crib was because your mama couldn’t stand your squalling.”

  “I didn’t like being alone.”

  “You don’t remember.”

  “I can guess.”

  Ace shook out the match. Luke’s mother had been the delicate type, never standing up for herself, not even against her son. Which had led to Luke always getting what he wanted, by hook or crook. A habit he carried into adulthood.

  He took a slow drag on the cigarette. The acrid smoke burned his nostrils. “So why you tagging along with me today?”

  “’Cause you look like you’re heading for trouble.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The fact that you only smoke when you’re contemplating murder.”

  “That’s not the only time.” He also liked a cigarette after sex.

  “Well, it’s a well-known fact the teacher’s got a burr up her butt about Terrance Winter. Add that to the fact that rumor has it Miss Wayfield went into the saloon looking for you yesterday and then you come out of the alley with your lips all kiss bitten.”

  “You’ve been spying on me.”

  “I prefer to think of it as keeping busy.”

  Luke had been keeping busy a lot lately. Ace touched his still tender lower lip, remembering that moment when Pet had lost control and bitten him. He cocked an eyebrow at his friend. “Kiss bitten?”

  Luke shrugged again.

  Ace shook his head. “I swear the words that come out of your mouth could tarnish that killer reputation of yours.”

  “It’s the poet in me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Luke didn’t tell anyone he penned dime novels to sell back East about the life of the wild men in the Wild West. It’d started out as a dare between him and one of his ladies and developed into a passion. Not one Luke flaunted, but a passion nonetheless and one that kept growing. Easterners had insatiable appetites for the excitement of the West. Hell, if most of them came here, they’d shit their pants the first day out, but reading it in their parlor at night, Ace guessed it was a safe bit of adventure.

  “When you going to write something more serious than those dime novels?” he asked Luke.

  “When you going to settle down and be who you ought to be rather than hiding?” Luke countered.

  “I’m not hiding. I’m an assayer, or haven’t you heard the latest?”

  “That takes up an hour a day. The rest of the time you practice being a wastrel.”

  “I’m not wasting. I make good money gambling.”

  “I know there’s a cost. Isn’t that what the teacher was riding you about?”

  “That woman has way too much time on her hands.”

  “I don’t think it’s a matter of time. It’s a matter of passion.”

  Yeah, Pet had a lot of passion.

  “I’d turn it my way if she’d look at me,” Luke mused.

  Ace didn’t believe the innocence in that statement for a minute. Any more than he expected Luke to believe the calm distance in his “Have you tried?”

  Luke shook his head. “Nah. No point. That lady treats me like the fence post in a corral. Handy when needed but otherwise not worth the attention. Mind telling me where we’re going?”

  Ace waved to the end of town. “I’m going to the livery.”

  “And after that?”

  “For a ride.
”

  “Would this ride entail a trip by the Winters’ place?”

  “Might.”

  Luke took a drag on his cigarette. “Going to have one of your infamous chats with him?”

  “Might be.”

  “You know your chat’s not going to do any good, don’t you? That man’s just soaked in gambling the way other men are soaked in gin.”

  “He drinks that, too.”

  “Not whiskey?”

  “He drinks anything.”

  “He hit the boy again?”

  Ace nodded. It wasn’t the first time he and Luke had talked about that situation.

  “Are you going to kill him?”

  “Might.”

  Luke shot him a look. “That would be murder.”

  “Not if he takes a shot at me first.”

  “You plan on being that provoking?”

  Ace shrugged. He didn’t really know what he was going to do yet. “If the lay of the land demands it.”

  They reached the livery. Ace nodded to the stable hand and went to the stall that contained his sorrel.

  “Crusher is getting fat hanging around here,” Luke observed going to the next stall over, which contained his big roan.

  Ace shook his head. “Not like Buddy’s wasting away.”

  “I take him out every day.”

  “I take out Crusher, too, but it’s not the same as riding trail.”

  They were all getting soft. Ace shook his head. Respectable. Fuck that.

  “No, it’s not.” Luke patted Buddy’s neck before he reached for the saddle. “Do you miss it?”

  “What?”

  “The old days,” Luke said, tossing the saddle on Buddy’s back, “when all we did was ride from one bad place to the next, one bad fight to the next.”

  Ace shook his head and eased the saddle back on Crusher before cinching it up. “That got old.”

  “Yeah, it did.” For a moment they were both silent as old memories—old battles—rose to haunt them.

  Luke broke the silence first like he always did. Ace often wondered if it wasn’t being alone Luke hated as much as quiet. Holding his smoke in his mouth as he tied the rifle scabbard onto the saddle, he asked, “Can you believe Caine, Shadow, Tracker, hell, even Sam, settled down into business?” He dropped the stirrup down and patted Buddy’s flank. “They’re almost darn right respectable.”