Bonded

by Laura Wright

  Before she had a chance to take her next breath, he was up and rolling her to her back. He gazed down at her, all dark and foreboding. “Smartass.”

  Her lips twitched. “You’re finally getting me, aren’t you?” she chided, feeling his cock through his jeans, hard and thick, pressed against her thigh.

  One dark eyebrow jerked up. “I thought I got you last night. And good.”

  Her grin broadened. “Some of me,” she clarified.

  “Well, that’s not right,” he drawled, then started moving down her body until he was lips to her navel.

  She gasped at the feel of his warm breath on her skin, then giggled. “That’s not what I mean, Blue.”

  “That’s what I mean.” His fingers were already in the waistband of her pj’s and he was pulling them down. “That’s what I want.” He accentuated that last word by tossing her pj’s over his shoulder.

  Emily laughed, but only for a few seconds. The man was shouldering himself between her legs, his eyes pinned to her sex.

  “Just a quick taste,” he uttered, dropping his head. “Before I dig in. Before I eat you up.”

  Oh God, his words . . . they made her crazy. As his tongue swiped at the seam of her pussy, Emily pulled in air and fisted the blanket beneath her. She’d never been this close to a guy. Never been touched this way—or tasted. The one man she’d been with besides Blue had only wanted straight-up, girl-on-the-bottom, boy-on-the-top sex. This . . . what was happening now, Blue’s head between her legs, and his tongue dancing . . . it was something she’d only fantasized about.

  He had spread her wide then, and was gently flicking her clit with his tongue. So light it made her insane, made her need, pissed her off.

  What was happening between them? Picnics on her futon, deep conversation, opening up to each other—sleeping together? Were they . . . dating? Were they messing around? Did she care?

  His tongue was pressed against her clit now and he was moving back and forth. Tugging. She moaned. No. She didn’t care. She was lost at sea. The perfect eighty-degree sea.

  “Christ, you’re sweet, Em,” he said on a groan, then pulled her tender bud into his mouth.

  Crying out, she abandoned the blanket and grasped his head, her fingers in his hair. So thick. She wanted him. Him inside her. I want you deep!

  “I want that too, sweetheart,” he growled. “You have no idea how much.”

  She was talking, in her head, and outside too.

  The ache was terrible.

  The need to come.

  And the need to be filled.

  She jerked her hips up, circling them. Blue followed, his mouth ravaging her now. He was making those hungry sounds that drove her mad, wild—over the edge.

  And then he slid one long finger inside her.

  A gasp escaped her throat. It sounded so raw to her ears.

  Then a second finger. And a third.

  Oh fuck!

  Was this how it was supposed to feel? Like divine madness? Like purity just out of reach—and yet you don’t want to get there . . . don’t want it to ever be over? Don’t want to come down from such an incredible high?

  His thrusts were quickening now, and his lips were drawing on her clit. She wasn’t going to be able to hold herself in. Not another moment. She had to release. Had to fly.

  The waves of climax erupted inside her, and she pumped against his fingers, hearing the sounds of her wet heat, hearing Blue’s groans as he ate her out. And then she was wriggling down. She had to get to him too. Taste him. Feel him. Own him like he owned her now.

  In her blind haze, she found the waistband of his jeans. Gritting her teeth, she snapped open the button, ripped down the zipper. Almost. She almost had him— Before he stopped her. Again.

  “No,” he growled. “No, Em.”

  Her eyes opened. Panting, she blinked at him. What . . . Goddammit. He was standing up. He was off the bed. No, the futon.

  “I just wanted you,” he said, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. “You gave me all I could ever want. On my lips, my tongue.”

  This was insane. He was shaking. His jaw was clenched so tight he could barely get the words out. What was going on? His lips were still shiny from her sex. He looked like he wanted to fuck her so badly it was paining him. And yet, he was resisting. Why?

  “Blue?” She stared at him, trying to gauge what was going on. “Talk to me.”

  His cobalt eyes, lit with a fierce fire, nearly assaulted her in their brilliance, their hunger.

  “Blue,” she said again when he didn’t answer her. “I know you want this, me—my hands on you.”

  “No,” he ground out. “No, I don’t.”

  Emily’s heart faltered. She hadn’t heard him right. Couldn’t have. Because if she had, this man would be saying he didn’t want her to touch him. Had to be something more, something else. He was feeling something for her, something he didn’t want to feel, so he was backing the hell off—saying shit he didn’t mean.

  She knew how badly he wanted her. It was obvious as hell.

  “Shit,” he cursed, running a hand through his hair. “I have to go.”

  Was he serious? For a second, she thought about confronting him, pleading with him . . . But screw that. He might have had a shitty past to deal with, but that was over now—that wasn’t about her. And hey, a girl has her pride.

  She just nodded at him. “Okay.”

  His eyes found hers and they were stormy, like a battle was being fought behind them. No, no, no, she warned herself. She wanted to reach out to him, tell him she could help him fight that battle—after all, that was her nature, how she’d been brought up. But she knew in her guts that only Blue himself could decide whether that war he was waging was worth winning or not.

  And shit, again—pride.

  She pulled back the covers and got up. Didn’t say another word as she walked straight past him and into the bathroom.

  * * *

  Blue had meant to go. He’d opened the front door intending to leave, intending to get in his truck and head back to the C—back to the ranch, his work, his life as an angry, distrusting cowboy. Only to feel every inch of him pulled back inside. He paced Emily’s bedroom floor, trying to get his mind together, his anger tamped down—and worst of all his desire under control. But the sound of the shower was wreaking havoc on him. And the picture he had in his head . . . Emily, naked, water falling over her body . . . Emily was no doubt pissed off at him. And for good reason. He’d wanted her to be pissed. Wanted her to stop asking questions. Wanted her to stop looking at him that way, hungry, needing, open, reminding him of the emotional shit he’d said to her last night. She wanted him. Wanted him to go deeper, inside her body and no doubt inside her heart as well. And motherfucker, he’d wanted that too!

  Christ, hadn’t he learned?

  His gaze swung to the bathroom door. Did he believe that Emily Shiver was like Natalie? A liar and a manipulator? Or like Everett and Elena? Keeping him from his true self, his true family? No. But the fear that she might be kept the walls, the armor, unbreakable, and the shitty, hurtful words coming.

  His gut clenched. That woman in there was trying like hell to get through to him. She was kind, funny, stunning—and she had his baby growing inside her. At the very least, she deserved an apology.

  But instead of sitting down on the bed and waiting for her, he went to the bathroom door and turned the knob. Wasn’t locked. His skin pulled around his muscles as he went inside. Steam enveloped him, causing him momentary blindness. But the closer he got to the shower, the more he could see. Her silhouette was art through the glass. Tall, long, with curves that made his insides liquid. Heat and anticipation pulsed through him as he started to strip.

  What are you doing, asshole?

  She’s pissed at you.

  His cock, as hard as granite, rested against his belly. Maybe she’d tell him to get lost, get out . . . he wouldn’t blame her. But he had to try. He had to see her, look her in the eyes an
d know she didn’t hate him, even though he was deserving of it.

  He eased back the shower door and stepped inside. She was facing the spray, her eyes closed, letting the water just cascade over her. She had an amazing body. Long legs, tight, toned ass, curved waist, and breasts that begged for a man’s hands—his hands.

  He could barely contain the growl rumbling in his chest. Or the arms that wrapped around her waist as he sidled up close to her.

  She gasped, then instantly relaxed, even pushing back into him. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Christ, Em . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Blue,” she breathed. “Just talk to me. Please. Tell me why you don’t want me to touch you.”

  “Darlin’, I want it. You can feel how much I want it.” He rolled his hips and groaned. “I want you. Right now. I want your hands on the shower walls, your ass in the air, and my cock buried deep inside your pussy.”

  She turned in his arms, stepped out of the spray. Her lips parted and she stared up into his eyes. “Then, why . . .”

  Blue struggled with the answer. With saying it out loud. It was dark and ugly, and it was about him—not her. And yet he had to give her something. “I want this, Em. I want you. And it scares the shit out of me.”

  Her eyes pinned him. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  He let his hand drift from her belly upward. “I want so much to believe that.”

  When he cupped her breast, rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned, “Then do.”

  His nostrils flared as she fisted his cock. “Not that easy.”

  A slow, sensual smile touched her lips. “But you’ll try.”

  He returned that smile. “Fuck. Yes, I’ll try.” Then he groaned when she started stroking him. Her eyes were pinned to his as her hand moved up and down his shaft. Blue had felt ready to explode since last night, so it took every ounce of restraint he had in him to calm down and not come right then and there.

  She forced him back against the tiles, dropped a hand on the side of his head, and just worked him over. She had magic hands, soft and wet, and Blue could only imagine her guiding his dick to the entrance of her pussy, slipping it inside.

  He growled and let his head fall back against the tiles. He was so screwed up. Just take what you want. Take what she wants to give you. What is your goddamn problem?

  Her eyes left his and she bent her head, ran her tongue over his right nipple.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.

  Her grin was nearly audible. Blue put one hand on the glass door to steady himself. She’d latched on now, biting and sucking his nipple while she stroked him, using his pre-cum as a lubricant, running her thumb over the seam in the head of his cock.

  Grinding himself into her hand, his ass clenching, he remembered that night. On his back, Emily above him, riding him, her hair around her shoulders, and the scent of flowers commingled with the scents of their arousal.

  With a hard thrust and a guttural groan, he came. The lights shut off in his mind and he just allowed himself to feel. Her hand, hard strokes, then gentle, then release . . .

  After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head fall to his chest. He pulled her closer. He was still partly erect, and he wanted to lift her up and place her down on him. Let her ride him, then press her back against the tiles and take her all the way to climax again. But the water suddenly turned cold and made the nearly impossible decision for him.

  “Guess I’ll be speaking to my landlord about this,” she said dryly as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. “I want hours of hot water.”

  He had a towel waiting for her the second she emerged.

  “James,” he ground out. “Leave it to the Cavanaughs to ruin a perfectly good morning.”

  As he wrapped her in the fluffy white towel, Emily grinned up at him. “Nothing ruined here. But I would say he just might’ve saved your virtue.”

  Ruined long ago, darlin’, he wanted to say. But frankly, he’d said too much already. All he wanted was to just hold her.

  Seventeen

  “Come with me,” Blue urged, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’ve got to be hungry.”

  Emily let her gaze roam over his naked torso. “I am.” Couldn’t he just put on a shirt? He was killing her here.

  His nostrils flared as he stared at her. “Swear to all that is holy, I’m not going to be able to get my ass out of here. Forget my ‘virtue’ as you call it; I’m in danger of losing my job. I have cattle coming this morning. Bought and paid for by me. I have to be there.”

  Clad in only a towel, Emily shrugged. “Okay.” Then she gave him a bright smile. She was pretty sure she was trying to kill his virtue. Or his chivalry. Or whatever it was that was really keeping him from taking her against the counter right that very minute. Because truly she didn’t understand why he was holding back. They’d been together before.

  He crossed his arms over his perfect chest. “Can I come back?”

  “Maybe,” she said coyly. “When?”

  “Well, I’m helping Steven and Jeremy with your stuff around four. Then I could just stay.”

  “I’ll be at work until six.”

  “I could have dinner waitin’ on ya,” he suggested.

  A smile broke on her face. She was pretty sure it rivaled the sun in its intensity. “Really?”

  He nodded, grinned, seemingly pleased with her reaction. “Any requests?” he asked, his eyes heavy-lidded and sexy. He needed to stay over again. Morning Blue Cavanaugh was her favorite.

  “I have a few,” she answered, then slowly readjusted her towel, not being very careful of what parts were exposed to his gaze.

  His eyes darkened. “Cattle, Emily.”

  She laughed and covered herself properly. “Fine.”

  “Dinner?” he growled. “Tell me.”

  “I’m not picky. I’m sure whatever you get will be great. Here.” She reached over and grabbed the extra key off the counter and gave it to him. “Take this. So you can come and go, let my brothers in. It’s for the private entrance. And whatever you do, don’t lose it. We don’t want your ex-girlfriend finding it and showing up here again, uninvited.”

  It was like all of the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Blue’s brow furrowed; then he stalked toward her. “What do you mean, again?”

  “She came by when I was moving in yesterday,” Emily explained, a little stunned by his ferocity. “She kind of hung around a little too long and said a few things . . .”

  His face drained of color. “What did she say?”

  “It was no big deal,” she assured him. “I’m making it into something, obviously—”

  He didn’t buy it. “Emily.”

  She sighed. “She was talking about you, how great you are. I think she was fishing to see if we’re dating or hanging out. I think she’s still pretty hung up on you.”

  His face was a mask of apprehension. “Listen to me,” he said, taking her hands, pinning her with his electric-blue gaze. “Deacon’s PI might’ve found something that links her with the disappearance of a girl at a cooking school she attended in New Orleans.”

  A thread of unease moved through her. “What?”

  “Natalie liked the girl’s male roommate.”

  “Was the girl found?”

  “No.”

  Now it was her turn for the facial blood drain. “Could be nothing. Could be a coincidence.”

  “Could be,” he agreed. “But just as a precaution, I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

  She broke away from him and headed back into the bedroom. “Not sure how that’s possible unless I remain in this apartment twenty-four/seven.”

  He followed her. “I guess that would be pretty extreme.”

  “You think?” She laughed tightly, nervously. She didn’t like this Natalie Palmer thing. She’d sensed something was off with the woman last night. “I’ll
just be really careful,” she said, unzipping her duffel bag and taking out her uniform.

  “Or maybe . . .” he started.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Maybe what?”

  He shrugged, grabbed his shirt from the bed. “I dunno. Maybe you could rethink moving out.”

  Okay. “No way,” she said with heat in her tone.

  “I know we weren’t really considering this seriously before, but you could always come home to the Triple with me,” he added, tossing on his T-shirt.

  “Don’t start this again, Blue,” she warned, giving him the serious-girl eyes. “You know what this means to me. Living here. On my own. How important I feel it is for me.”

  Fully dressed now, he went over to her. His eyes moved over her face. “Is it wrong for me to want to keep you safe?”

  Her heart melted. Just like that. Ice cube in the blazing sun. “Of course not. I know you want to protect the baby—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Now it’s you who needs to stop. This isn’t just about the baby and you damn well know it.”

  Did she? She wanted to believe that.

  He took her by the shoulders. “You know how I feel about you.”

  “I know you care about me,” she began.

  “Shit, woman. It’s more than that. Has turned into more than that. And I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  “I get that, and I get the risk. But I’m not going to panic because of something the Cavanaugh brothers think they might know. Granted, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be stupid either. I’ll be safe and steer clear of her. Okay?”

  The moment of silence that stretched out before them then felt like hours. Blue looked as though he was attempting to invade her thoughts while trying to keep his own hidden. She didn’t like it when he did that. Filled her belly with unease.

  “It’ll be okay,” she assured him. “Yeah?”

  After a moment, he finally released a breath and nodded. “Okay.”

  She smiled softly. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, you will.”

  “With dinner?” she added, widening that smile as she gathered up her purse and a jacket.