Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Six
Coop waited heatedly for her response. He wanted her to come at him in a fit of uncontrollable jealousy, kicking and scratching. He wanted to know she cared he'd had other women.
He wanted to know if he was being thrown to the dogs.
Adrenalin pounded through his veins, urging him to take her. Take her. Take her.
Her eyes narrowed. She didn't move, except to let herself fall back against the shadowy brick of the building.
He could hold back no longer. The primal being inside him took over. He clamped his fingers around her arms, crushing her to him, bending her backward to look into her eyes. She squeezed them shut.
“You going to let the Indian win, Maggie? Just one more time?” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
Her eyes opened, and he watched her swallow. “Wolf...” she whispered.
Snaking one arm around her, he caressed the back of her neck with his fingers. “Are you bored already? Now that you've had your warrior, are you tired of him, baby?”
A squeak of protest escaped her. “Don't ever think that,” she said. “I'll never be tired of you.”
The plaintive look in her eyes almost convinced him.
Almost.
Slanting his face over hers, he painted her lips with his. “Show me.”
Her tongue traced lightly over his mouth. “How?”
He was instantly on fire, wanting to rock his rigid flesh right into her heat. He ground into her with his lips, his body. Pressing her up against the rough wall, kissing her mercilessly, he slid his hand under her skirt. Shock vibrated through him at what he discovered.
Pulling his mouth from hers he gaped at her in raw disbelief. “Do you not own a pair of underwear?”
On Maggie's face, a flush quickly dissolved into a knowing look, full of sensual, feminine power. “My man likes having access to me at all times.”
Her man. God, he liked the sound of that.
That, and the erotic secret he'd just discovered, inflamed him almost to the breaking point. His arousal strained against his jeans. He glanced up and down the alley, then pulled her into the alcove of a bricked-up doorway. “Your man wants access to you right now,” he growled.
She moaned into his mouth. His fingers penetrating the drenched folds between her legs told him better than words how she felt. He wrenched down his zipper.
She gasped as he freed himself. “Someone will come!”
He grinned wickedly. “You catch on quick.”
Glancing at his pulsing cock, she licked her lips, then looked up, hunger burning in her eyes. “Hurry.”
He lifted her onto his hips, resting her against the back of the niche. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.”
He was beyond rational thought, only his singular, piercing need for the woman drove him.
Her legs came tight around him, her arms around his neck. He pushed up her skirt. Her hands grabbed bunches of his hair as she pulled his head back and kissed him. A scorching hot, lingering kiss.
“I won't share you, Wolf. I won't ever share you.”
She wouldn't share? What about him?
His breath came hard and fast, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “It's all right, pup, you won't have to.” He maneuvered her into position over his cock. “Just promise me you won't ever see Dinny Paxton again.”
Her mouth opened in surprise, inhaling sharply. He felt her grip around his neck tighten for a split second, and she suddenly dropped a couple of inches down the wall. The blunt end of his erection teased the silky opening of her cleft.
She looked away. “I can't do that.”
His body absorbed the pain like buckshot. “Why not?”
Her face went pale. “I...can't tell you.”
“Damn you!” He would have pushed away from her, had she not locked her arms and legs around him.
“Please, Wolf, don't leave me now. I need you.” Her gaze returned to implore him.
He felt the evil windigo take hold of his soul, plunging his reason and sanity into darkness, stripping away the polished veneer of civilization.
He grasped her hips, lifted her once, and impaled her to the hilt on his hard length.
To the tune of her muffled, breathless whimpers, he claimed her as his.
Fiercely.
Savagely.
Sex had never felt so hot, so intense, so carnal. He felt her impassioned body respond wantonly, and it ignited him to even greater violence. Her staccato panting and the way her hips feverishly engaged his drove him higher and harder into her.
Sweet God in heaven, she felt so good.
“Come for me, lover,” he demanded. “Show me just how much you need me—at least for this.”
She groaned, and her nails raked the bare skin of his back and shoulders. Her words came out in spurts. “I do...need you...Wolf... Always.”
He felt the first rhythmic pulses of her climax knead his greedy, lusting cock as if they were his own.
“God, Wolf,” she moaned. He covered her mouth with his to smother the sounds of her orgasm, but the blood in his veins reverberated with her final, beseeching, “I love you.”
He exploded in a release so complete, so racking, so exhausting, that he felt totally empty when it finally subsided. Depleted of vital fluids, hollow of emotions, devoid of pride.
She loved him.
She loved him, and he had fucked her like a common whore in an alley. Violently, without a shred of self-control.
Still gasping for air, he let her slide off his hips, his eyes avoiding hers. Tipping his face upward, he gazed at the stars twinkling overhead, shining above the alley and the village. Shining above the fetid, stinking place he had sunk to in his soul.
He pulled up his zipper. “I'm sorry,” was all he could choke out.
He started walking toward the truck. When he realized she wasn't following, he turned. Framed by the doorway, she remained with her back against the dirty brick, watching him, her face filled with anguish. Her skirt was still pushed up around her hips, a trail of his semen ran down one white thigh.
Sweet fucking heaven, what had he done?
He reached out a hand to her, and that seemed to startle her out of her trance.
She shook her head.
“Come on. I'll take you home.” He was too tired and sick at heart to reflect on anything but having a sweat and purging some of his self-loathing in the punishing heat.
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Seven
They drove back to the tower in silence, Maggie fighting tears the whole way. She was nauseous with regret over the words she had spoken in her passion. How could she have been so foolish, telling him she loved him? Even though she did, with all her heart, she knew better than to admit it out loud to a man. Especially one as commitment-phobic as Cooper seemed to be.
Sure enough, as soon as she had uttered the fateful words, he'd changed. He'd barely acknowledged her since then—not a kiss, not a touch. Hardly a look in her direction.
She cast a woeful glance at him as he parked the truck under the tower, swiping angrily at the single tear that dared to slip down her cheek.
Great strategy, Maggie. Way to go.
He came around and opened her door, helping her down from the high running board. “Maggie, I, uh...” He took a deep breath and averted his eyes, staring out into the black forest. “I need to do some thinking tonight, and I really need a sweat.” He shot her a guilty look. “I'll see you in the morning, okay?”
She swallowed, and summoned all the indifference she could muster. She lifted a shoulder in what she hoped was a negligent shrug. “No problem. See you around.”
He caught her arm and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “I'm sorry.”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice. Screw that.
She started walking toward the stairs, counting on memory to guide her because, suddenly, she couldn't see a goddamned thing.
She had to do something to erase the words that h
ad driven him away. Somehow make him forget she’d ever said them.
When her foot hit the bottom step, she turned. Praying her voice wouldn't crack, she said, “I don't love you, you know. That was just...the heat of the moment.”
In a daze, she climbed mechanically up the stairs to the cab and went in. She leaned her back against the closed door and dropped her purse. Burying her face in her hands, she held her breath for a moment, hoping she would wake up from this wretched nightmare.
An anguished cry welled up from her very soul and worked its way to her throat. Oh, God. She wrapped her arms around her middle and doubled over from the pain.
Wolf, my beautiful Wolf. I do love you. I love you so much.
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Eight
His heart tearing apart in his chest, Coop watched from the forest edge as Maggie hurried up the tower stairs and disappeared into the cab. She closed the door behind her without a downward glance.
He waited a few painful moments, hoping she would step out onto the balcony and look down at him—a fickle Juliette to his tormented Romeo. He wouldn't have shown himself, but it would have given him some small comfort to know she wanted to see him once more tonight.
Even after what he'd done.
He waited in vain. After all hope of seeing her had fled, he made his way down to his campsite. Who could blame her for retracting her words of love? He didn't deserve them.
He built a fire to heat rocks for the sweat hut, slipped off his pants, and walked into the lake. He wanted to wash off all trace of the sordid act.
He wished he could cleanse his conscience as easily.
What had gotten into him? For a brief moment, he actually considered believing the windigo had taken possession of him back in that alley. Then he shook his head in disgust, and waded chest high into the black water. How convenient it would be to blame his behavior on an evil spirit. He knew better. It had been Blue Wolf Cooper in that alley, not some alternate persona from the old ones' stories. He splashed chilly water in his face, relishing the punishing slap it gave his cheeks.
He’d never lost control of himself before like he had tonight. He'd always been proud of the way he faced life's ups and downs with calm dignity, taking things in stride. Coolly, calmly, professionally. Raising neither voice nor hand in anger.
He'd never been a jealous man, either. But then, he'd never had a reason to be.
He growled, thinking of Special Agent Dinny Paxton. What did the bastard mean to Maggie, anyway? It drove him crazy, not knowing. Tonight, he'd been jealous to the point of violence with the woman he loved—and that was something he just couldn't accept. The fact that he hadn't hurt her, and that she hadn't objected, had even found pleasure in his actions, changed nothing.
It wouldn't happen again.
Ever.
He plunged his body into the shadowy gloom of the tranquil lake, considering his alternatives. There weren't many. In fact, they all boiled down to two—either she would be with him, only him...or he'd have to leave her. He wouldn't risk another outburst like tonight's.
Floating on his back in the dark water, he contemplated the glittering canvas of the Milky Way overhead. He was all too aware of which choice was the more likely. She had gone out of her way to put distance between them tonight. And refused to soothe his fears about Paxton.
But then, afterward, she’d said she loved him...
Recalling her words put a smile on his face for a few seconds. But then he remembered her denial, and his heart squeezed painfully.
A mindless declaration, uttered in the throes of sexual gratification, that’s all it had been.
He was totally depressed.
On the lakeshore, crickets and frogs joined in a symphony of dissonance, echoing the conflicting voices in his heart. Last night, and most of today, he had been so sure this was it. That this was the woman he'd been waiting for all his life.
What had happened to change their blissful, playful union so quickly?
He dipped his hands into the cool water of the lake, and slowly, carefully, ran them over his face and body, rubbing off the soot from the tailpipe, and the traces of sex. His fingers lingered at the junction of his thighs, stroking off the viscous residue. Jesus, they had both been wild things in that alley.
For an agonizing minute, he had to will himself not to leap from the water and run to her again. He wanted nothing more than to sink between her thighs and lose himself forever. It really had felt incredible, taking her there in the alley. His cock hardened just at the vivid memory.
Proof positive of his depravity.
He continued to clean himself. And then, suddenly, a horrible realization came to him.
He sank into the water, and came up splashing and choking.
Oh, God.
Frantically, he thought back over their coupling. But the only vision that came hurtling into his brain was of a trail of semen on a white thigh, glistening in the harsh neon light.
Fuck. Ah, fuck.
He looked up at the darkened tower and groaned out a long, tormented breath. Damn it to hell.
No wonder it had felt so damn good.
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Nine
Maggie woke late from a fitful sleep. She put both hands over her eyes against the bright morning sun glaring in through the window.
Please, God. Tell me that did not happen.
She dragged herself out of bed. Unfortunately, going through her morning routine did nothing to alter the events of the night before.
She'd still told Cooper she loved him. And he'd still left her.
She went over to the telescope and swept it over Cooper's camp. This morning, it looked as deserted and desolate as her heart.
She forced herself to get on with the day. The sky was beautiful and cloudless, and it promised to be another scorcher. She brewed and swallowed two tasteless cups of coffee, then gathered up the laundry she'd been neglecting for over a week. She wanted to kick herself as she grabbed the black plastic bag filled with dirty clothes. If she'd actually done her laundry, maybe she wouldn't be in this damned mess.
She laughed bitterly. Her mother was right. Bad housekeeping really had cost her her man.
Taking a last look around, her gaze stalled on the bed sheets. She should wash them, too. Lifting the pillow, she hugged it to her breast. Lowering her nose, she breathed deeply. The smell of Cooper curled into her senses, as potent as if he were standing in her arms. Skyrockets of longing went off throughout her body. She swallowed furiously to keep down a sob that wanted out.
She would not despair. She'd get him back.
If only for the short time they had left before the trial.
Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred
Coop felt like shit and needed a nap. But he had to get ready for lunch with Wilkins. And Maggie.
And wasn’t that going to be a laugh riot.
He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, and most of the morning trying to avoid thinking about her. Neither with a lot of success. Sometime after midnight, he'd grabbed the transmitter Gary had put together, and hiked out into the forest. It had been too dark to build a hunting blind, so after he placed the transmitter in a bear-sized clump of black raspberry vines, he'd slung his Winchester over his shoulder and shinnied up a pine tree.
Wedged into the fork of a low-lying branch, his legs and back aching and his clothes getting covered in sticky pitch, he'd waited for a sign of the poachers.
Naturally, there hadn't been any suspicious activity all night—other than once in the wee hours he'd heard the faraway sound of a vehicle driving slowly along one of the many Forest Service access roads. As the uncomfortable night wore on, he'd thought about who might be driving the primitive roads that late. By morning, he was convinced it could have been the poachers.
It would be easy enough for them just to drive along, listening for a signal from one of the ear tags. When they heard a bear, they’d make the short hike into the forest, shoot and g
ut it, and then get out as swiftly as they’d come.
Quick and dirty, like Jack had said. Shooting fish in a barrel.
During the endless hours before dawn, Coop had also come to an uneasy truce with his behavior with Maggie last night. It was a side of himself he hadn't ever seen before. A side he didn't like.
He'd had an incredibly strong reaction to a powerful set of emotions he was feeling for the first time in his life. Maggie brought out the best in him—love and tenderness, joy, and hope for a kind of happiness he'd forgotten existed. But it appeared she also brought out the worst in him—blind, angry jealousy, and a need to possess her that drove him beyond all reason.
Bleakly, he watched the sunrise through the trees along the horizon, then gingerly climbed out of his perch. He rubbed his screaming muscles. Damn. If he was going to spend more nights out here, he wanted a better place to hide. He needed a real hunting blind.
Trudging down the hill to an area closer to the tower road, he selected a promising spot and looked around, trying to decide which direction the poachers would most likely come from.
Who the hell knew?
He spent the morning weaving branches loosely together into a compact structure that appeared so natural it would be invisible to the casual observer.
“Looks like a goddamned igloo,” he muttered when it was done, but was pleased when he went inside and peered out through the loosely woven branches. He'd easily be able to watch the tangle of bushes where he planned to place the transmitter tonight. And after spending the tortuous night up in a tree, it would be pure luxury to stretch out for the remaining nights until he caught the poachers.
He wasn’t going to think about spending those nights with Maggie, instead.
He scrubbed his hand over his gritty eyes, and shook his head. Damn her, anyway. He would not let her get to him.
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