by J. S. Scott
“I-I got…lost,” she lied unhappily. She didn’t exactly want to deceive the man who had gone out in such a vicious storm to retrieve her, but she had no choice. “Was Chloe worried? Did she send you after me?”
He nodded and gave her an annoyed expression.
“I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do.”
He nodded again, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Great. Now he thinks I’m an idiot, a dumb blonde who isn’t smart enough to get out of an incoming blizzard. I honestly can’t blame him for thinking what he’s thinking right now. But I don’t like it.
Strangely, she actually cared what Tate thought about her now. He’d risked his own life to come out and save her. He was irritated, and rightfully so. She kind of found herself missing his usual dimpled grin and cocky attitude. Right now, he looked dark and intense, more serious than she’d ever seen him, and that fierce expression made her squirm.
“Why did you do it? What were you really looking for, Lara? You left the trail, and I don’t buy that you were totally lost.” He locked eyes with her; his probing look drilled into her soul.
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say to him.
I don’t want to lie to him.
A small yip saved her from having to say anything as the cutest little German Shepard puppy Lara had ever seen scampered into the room, and prevented the need for her to speak.
She smiled as the tiny creature stopped at Tate’s feet and wriggled around in excitement. Lara watched as he picked up the tiny canine with a gentleness that made her heart skip a beat. “Who is that?”
Tate scratched the pup’s body. “This is Shep.”
“Not a very unique name, Colter,” she chided softly. “Is he yours?”
“He wasn’t exactly planned,” Tate grumbled, but he continued to scratch the puppy’s quivering body. “Somebody dumped him on the highway. Probably a Christmas gift that somebody decided they didn’t want chewing on their furniture. Chloe talked me into keeping him.” Tate shrugged. “Hell, I figured I could take better care of him than his previous owners.”
He obviously took very good care of the little ball of fur, and it was apparent to Lara that Tate already loved the pup, no matter how much he grumbled about adopting the little dog. “He looks like he’s barely old enough to be weaned,” she observed thoughtfully.
“Chloe says he’s about ten to twelve weeks.”
Lara took the puppy in her lap as Shep tumbled off Tate’s thighs and crawled eagerly toward her. “He’s adorable.” She cuddled the pup against her breast and stroked over the silky fur as the dog licked her jaw. “How can anybody be so cruel? He could have frozen to death. He’s too little and doesn’t have the reserves to survive outside for long.”
“He almost did freeze. He was pretty cold when I picked him up. I’m glad Chloe was around to take care of him. Getting hit by a car was fairly likely, too. The highway is pretty busy in the winter with ski traffic,” Tate replied.
It was pretty hard not to like a guy who rescued puppies—and women—in distress. Tate might not be happy with her right now, but he’d saved her anyway. Lara looked up and smiled at him, and he grinned back as Shep sank his little teeth into her sweater and started to tug. She laughed merrily and disentangled the black and tan ball of fur from her garment. “He likes to chew.”
“He’ll be a handful,” Tate agreed, not sounding the least bit daunted.
“He reminds me so much of Chief when he was a puppy. I got him for my tenth birthday. He was a Shepard, too, and his markings were similar. Chief was my constant companion for years.” Lara sighed. Damn. Even now, she still missed her canine companion.
“What happened to him?” Tate asked curiously.
Shep leaped to try to investigate what was in her mug, and Lara laughed at his antics, suddenly remembering how much fun a puppy could be. “No chocolate for you, pup. It’s not good for you.” She held the half-empty mug higher. She looked at Tate and answered hesitantly. “I had to give him away. My parents died when I was sixteen. I had to move in with my aunt, and my uncle hated dogs.” She stroked the puppy on her lap as she finished her hot chocolate and set the mug gently on a coaster on the coffee table. Her uncle had hated everything and everyone, including his wife.
“Jesus, Lara. Both of your parents died at the same time? What happened?”
Now, even a little more than thirteen years after that horrendous day, Lara had a hard time talking about her parents’ death. “They were murdered.”
“Tell me. How?” Tate’s voice was tender and compassionate.
Lara met his eyes as she cuddled Shep for comfort. “They both died on September 11, 2001.” Instinctively, she knew that Tate would make the connection and she wouldn’t have to say anything more.
Tate’s face turned into a look of astonishment. “They both died in the attack on the World Trade Center?”
Lara nodded slowly, her eyes moist with tears. “South Tower. They never had a chance. My dad was a lawyer. He had business in New York, and Mom went with him because their wedding anniversary was on September 12th. They wanted to celebrate in New York City. She went with him to the World Trade Center that day. Mom had told my aunt that morning that my dad just needed to make a quick stop and then he was taking her out for brunch. They were both just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” How many times had Lara thought that? It wasn’t like her dad had gone there every day. If only her parents had gone the day before. If only her dad wasn’t such an early bird and they had planned to go later. If only…
“I’m so damn sorry, Lara,” Tate rasped as he moved next to her, put his arms around her shoulders, and lowered Shep gently to the floor.
He pulled her unresisting body into his arms and cradled her head against his chest, and Lara let him. It felt so damn good to feel a human connection again, to let him comfort her, even though she shouldn’t. “I still miss them.” That fateful day would be forever burned into her mind.
“I know. I still miss my dad sometimes, too, even though it’s getting harder and harder to remember him.”
“What happened?” Lara knew Tate’s father had died years ago, but she never had learned the exact cause.
“Strangely enough, he died in an act of terror, too, but it didn’t happen in the US. On a trip to the Middle East in the mid-nineties, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like your parents. He was killed when a car bomb exploded. It wasn’t his car. He just happened to be right beside the vehicle when the bomb detonated. Terrorists claimed responsibility for it later, happy that they’d killed an American,” Tate growled into her hair. “Bastards.”
Lara’s eyes grew wider in surprise. The coincidence that they had both lost someone dear to them in an act of terrorism was strange enough. But the fact that something like this had happened to Marcus was even more bizarre.
Her mind whirled as she took in all the implications of what Tate had just related. She could tell by the sorrow in Tate’s voice that he still mourned his father’s death. Did Marcus? If he did, things were even stranger and more puzzling than Tate could even imagine.
She clung to Tate and wrapped her arms around his neck as he rocked her gently, remorseful and nauseated at the thought that this crazy, cocky, arrogant yet kind man was going to be even more devastated when he found out the truth.
Very little surprised Tate Colter anymore, but Lara’s revelation earlier in the day that she’d lost her parents in the worst terrorist attack on US soil had thrown him for a loop. His family had been torn apart when they’d lost his father. He could only imagine the pain Lara must have suffered when she’d lost both of her parents at the same time. His whole family had mourned his dad for years, but they’d had his mom to keep them grounded. She’d kept their lives as normal as possible. Lara had been displaced, and lost the two people most dear to her in a shocking event that had rocked the entire country. She’d lost her home, everything normal in her life along with her
parents.
“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself vehemently. Those facts about her life hadn’t been in the information he’d gathered on her, but then he hadn’t been looking for her parentage. He’d been looking for current information about her and what she was doing in Rocky Springs.
Lara had wanted to get back to the resort, but he’d refused. Sure, he could get back to the resort if he wanted to, even though the roads were technically impassable by trucks or autos until they were plowed. Over a foot of snow had already fallen, and many areas had drifts even higher because of the high winds. And the white stuff just kept on coming. They’d be seeing several feet of new snow by the time this storm was over.
Tate had told Lara that they were stuck until the roads were plowed and he could take her safely back to the resort in his truck after the storm.
He didn’t tell her that he had a Jeep in his extra garage with a big ass plow.
Earlier, his motivation had been clear when he’d brought her back to his place: get her into his bed so he could stop this growing preoccupation he had with fucking her senseless. Then find out all of her secrets.
Now, he wasn’t quite sure what his objective was exactly. Yeah, he still wanted to fuck her more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his entire life. But everything about her grew on him, drove him crazy, and sent his obsession with her into overdrive.
He turned away from his position by the picture window. Was Lara naked right now? She liked to eat, so she’d cooked an enormous amount of food for both of them, and they’d put away a good dinner before he showed her his personal hot springs. The muscle in her thigh was probably still sore, so he’d offered her the use of the springs. Now he wished he’d made a suggestion to share the water.
She would have refused.
“Fuck!” Tate clicked the leash on Shep’s collar and walked outside. The pup looked up at him with sad brown eyes that reminded him of Lara’s. Hell, just about anything reminded him of her right now. He crouched down and stroked the dog. “I’m not leaving you, boy. I’d just rather you didn’t do your thing in the house.” Tate knew the pup still had the fear of abandonment, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Once he had decided to take on a responsibility, he took it seriously. What kind of asshole could dump a tiny, defenseless animal beside the road, knowing it would probably die?
The motion lights in front of the house clicked on, but it didn’t help much. The blizzard still raged, and the visibility sucked. He urged the puppy toward the edge of the woods. He’d stepped out without a jacket, hoping he could cool down his heated body, and that his ever-present erection he sported whenever he thought about or saw Lara would finally deflate.
Tate was cold by the time Shep had emptied his bladder, but his dick was still hard. It was damn near impossible to clear his mind of the image of Lara lounging naked in his private mineral bath, so damn close to him that he could almost touch her.
“Let’s go, buddy,” he urged the puppy, pissed off at himself for getting so worked up over a woman. Shep bounced happily in front of him, eager to get back to a warm environment.
Tate kicked his boots off on the covered porch. He entered the house again and let Shep off his leash, hanging the tether on a hook next to the door. Tate patted the dog. “Good boy.” He didn’t know much about training a puppy, but he hoped a little praise would go a long way toward Shep not making a puddle on his floor.
Tate wandered through the house and stopped by the closed door that led to the hot springs. Was Lara still in there? Was she taking an unordinary length of time, or did he just feel like she was because of his overactive imagination and obsession with her?
She’d been in there for a while—since right after dinner.
“Lara,” he called through the door, fairly certain she wouldn’t hear him. There was a sliding door and a rock path down to the covered springs between them. He turned the handle and pushed on the door, and it sprang open.
She didn’t lock the door.
Feeling both guilty and elated that she trusted him enough to leave the door unlocked, he moved soundlessly through the slider and out to the path that led to the rocky hot springs. His breath seized in his lungs as he rounded the corner.
His gaze found her immediately: she was leaned up against the wall, sitting on one of the rock seats in the spring pool, her eyes closed.
She’s asleep.
He exhaled with a grunt and looked at the pile of clothing next to the pool. She had gone in nude. Tate didn’t think, didn’t debate with himself. He stripped quickly and lowered his naked body into the pool. He couldn’t leave her in the springs asleep, and he didn’t want to startle her. If he was honest with himself, he would probably admit that he wanted to get close to her, but he wasn’t into searching his soul at the moment. Tate couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lara’s sleeping form, the tops of her perfect breasts revealed above the water.
She’s fucking perfect.
He swept a stray lock of damp hair from her face, and examined her features, so soft and innocent in sleep. Tate ran a gentle finger across her plump, luscious lips and over the soft skin of her cheek because he just couldn’t stop himself from doing it.
He’d had plenty of women in his life. Sure, none of his relationships had been very intense, and they were quickly over because of his past career in Special Forces. Yeah, he’d been going through a period of disinterest since his accident, but that was understandable. Thinking back, his ennui had really started even before he’d gotten injured, and it had continued until the day he met Lara. It was as if his dick had gone from zero to full throttle in a matter of seconds. Why in the hell was he so drawn to this particular woman, a female who could kick ass herself, and probably had no need for the overactive protective instincts that emanated from him every time he looked at her?
He hurt for the pain she’d suffered from losing her parents so young, and then wanted to hurt the guy who had cheated on her. She acted so tough. Actually, she was a strong woman, but there was an underlying softness in Lara that he wanted to reach, needed to touch. He liked her rough edges and her tough exterior, but he wanted her submission, and he wanted her to surrender to him and only to him.
“Wake up, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly in her ear.
She stirred and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tate.” She sighed softly.
The sound of his name on her lips nearly gutted him completely. Her soft capitulation made his cock harder than it had ever been before. “Wake up, baby.” He wasn’t going to take advantage of her sleepy state. Not that he didn’t want to use her vulnerable state to steal a taste of her lips…but his damn conscience wouldn’t let him.
“I am awake now,” she murmured sensually. She pulled his head down and his lips to hers.
Hell, there was only so much a guy could take, and Tate had reached his limit. His need was reigning supreme.
He captured her lips like a starving man attacked a feast, losing the battle with his conscience while his treacherous mind and body had their own damn celebration.
Lara’s sleepy brain knew exactly who was kissing her, and she opened to Tate like a flower seeking the sunlight. He conquered and cajoled, teased and subdued, plundered her mouth as though he owned it. Lara moaned against his lips; her tongue dueled with his for dominance. She lost, and she reveled in defeat, letting this man who made her feel like a woman command her. He made the rules and she happily followed, intoxicated with not having to think, to just respond. Although he dominated, she’d never felt safer than she did right now, or more desired and wanted.
He lifted her, finally releasing her mouth as he carried her up the stone steps and into the house. After he lowered her feet slowly to the ground in the bathroom attached to the large bedroom they had entered, Tate turned on the shower with a flick of his strong wrist.
“We need to rinse off,” he said huskily.
The pungent smell of the minerals in the water still clung to her wet skin, and she stepped into the
warm water willingly. As she dunked her head under the shower head, she let the pulsating, streaming liquid relax her already limp body even more.
Tate stepped in behind her, lathered shampoo onto her scalp and rubbed it in, massaging the soap into her hair.
Oh, God, he feels good.
Lara let her body relax against his powerful chest and abdomen, not questioning why she trusted Tate. It felt right, and she just did. Maybe it should feel awkward to be leaning against a naked man in a shower, a guy who she hardly knew, especially when she was as bare as the day she was born herself. But the closeness and the physical intimacy just made her yearn for an even deeper connection with Tate, a bond that she’d never felt before.
“Are you okay?” he rasped roughly in her ear.
“I-I’m fine. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t be sorry, Lara. I was here. You knew you were safe,” he told her in a low, sexy baritone. “How’s your leg?”
She didn’t speak for a moment as he gently tilted her head down and rinsed her hair.
“It’s better,” she told him tremulously as he smoothly switched their positions so he could rinse soap from his hair. The hot springs had soothed the muscle in her thigh, and the pain was dull and almost nonexistent now.
He soaped up his body, and then refilled his palm with the liquid, smoothing it over her shoulders and back. “You’re so damn beautiful, Lara.” His voice was hoarse and graveled.
She shuddered as his slick hands moved around her torso and slid up to palm her breasts. “Tate,” she whispered. Her head fell back against his shoulder.
“That’s right, baby. Keep on saying my name. Moan my name while you come. Know exactly who is making you feel like this,” he demanded as his thumbs circled her sensitive nipples.
Her core clenched almost viciously as Tate lightly pinched the hardened peaks of her breasts, and set her body on fire with desperate need. “Please, Tate,” she whimpered. His hard erection was right against her lower back. “I need…I need…”
