Protecting His Brother's Bride

by Jan Schliesman

  “Keys?” he bellowed, holding out his hand. But instead of climbing into bed as he’d instructed, she stood ramrod straight with the sheet tossed behind her on the bed. His itchy fingers were nearly close enough to touch her. If he leaned forward a bit more, he could snap open the bra and watch her breasts spill into his hands.

  “Do you think I’m hiding them under these?” Her fingers slid to her hips and she shoved the panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them.

  His mouth went dry and his arousal throbbed in his tightening jeans. He was in so much trouble. Dalton couldn’t pull his eyes away. She was beautiful. Where did he expect her to have those keys, now that she’d stripped? And the damn penlight left nearly everything for his imagination.

  Luckily, the bright material of her bra seemed to glow in the darkness. Almost reminded him of a flotation device, except this time, he was the one drowning. A wise man wouldn’t play along. A wise man would focus his attention over her right shoulder and feign disinterest. A wise man would also stop fantasizing about the creamy skin surrounding the peaked nipples clearly visible through the clingy fabric.

  After unhooking the bra’s front clasp, she peeled the wet fabric away from her damp skin as he watched. She slowly bent and retrieved the underwear before launching both items of lingerie at his chest.

  “Honey, can you hang those up for me?” It was the same tone she’d used at the convenience store. She should have learned her lesson the first time.

  “Anything for you, cupcake.” He opened the door and tossed the items into the rain, wishing he could force himself to follow. It would take more than a cold shower to get his starving libido under control.

  She wrung some of the water from her hair and then used the sheet to dry off the rest of her body before wiping the mud from her feet. When she bent to retrieve something from that dang bag of hers, Dalton thought he was going to pop his zipper.

  Why should he be forced to remain in wet jeans for the rest of the night so Cupcake could be high and dry in the only bed? He removed his shirt, tossing the soaking mass at her feet.

  Her attention shifted from the tote bag to him.

  He was mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze. Logic told him to stop. Desire wouldn’t let him. He dropped his pants to his ankles.

  She took a step backward and waited. The worthless penlight had already burned through its battery, leaving only a few bolts of lightning to break through their darkened cocoon. He was left to wonder if her retreat meant exactly what it looked like. Kicking his jeans aside, he reached for her.

  Slipping one hand beneath the nape of her neck, he urged her forward as his lips found hers in the darkness. She tasted like chocolate with a hint of something fruity. Her chilly hands pressed against his chest. She was cold and wet, and the combination did nothing to lessen his desire.

  Her frigid fingers wound around his neck and tugged him closer, almost as if she was trying to climb beneath his overheated skin. Beyond the way she melted against him, there was something primal about their connection. Before, he’d wanted words to explain her actions. Now he just wanted to take whatever she offered.

  After her deliberate striptease, he could visualize every curve of her naked body pressed to his. His hands brushed against her rib cage, slid to her hips and paused. Shoulds and should-nots battled in his mind as she moved closer, pressing her breasts against his chest and practically climbing under his skin.

  His hands slipped lower, encompassing the perfect roundness of the bottom he’d first noticed in his shed. Her lips pressed against his collarbone.

  “You’re freezing.” Reality made a brief appearance as he yanked the blanket from the plastic tub and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “So warm me up.” She insinuated one leg between his and adjusted her slim arms around his neck, trembling. From the cold or desire, he wasn’t sure which.

  He’d told enough lies in his life that he probably could have volleyed something back. But he needed to finish what they’d started at the convenience store. Her lips were chilly, the inner recesses warm as his tongue flicked against her teeth, vying for entrance. Her fingers skated up and down his spine as her hips gyrated against his.

  He shifted, struggling to reach the edge of the bed, before pulling her down on top of him. The simple foam mattress sank at least four inches under their weight, and for a brief moment he thought the trailer might tip.

  The chill of her body was a relief to his overheated skin. And when she straddled his hips, he nearly lost control. A low moan escaped her throat and she tossed her head backward, allowing him greater access to the fullness of her breasts. Her nipples were erect and begged to be tasted.

  He rose to his elbows, leaned forward a few inches and licked one tight bud.

  Chapter 7

  A rush of adrenaline fired through Kira’s veins, drowning out the doubts skirting the edge of her subconscious. Pleasure was a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed in a very long time, and ignoring the consequences was far from her usual style. She could feel Dalton’s reluctance, knew he would stop again if she gave the slightest hesitation.

  She wouldn’t.

  She also wouldn’t compare the Matthews brothers and wish the circumstances were different. Dalton hadn’t given up on finding her. Instead, he’d followed her into the rainy night, carrying her bag of ill-gotten goods. He didn’t have to help her. He could have searched for his keys and walked away.

  Kira wanted him and she didn’t care what his reasons were for staying with her. Let it be about generating heat and preventing a bout of pneumonia. Let it be about sex. Let it be about forgetting everything else for a few hours.

  She pressed his shoulders into the mattress. He obliged and she followed him down, his mouth slipping from her breast and gliding up her neck to her mouth. The smell of rain still clung to his lips, mixing with a masculine scent she would forever link with Dalton.

  Her eyes slid shut as she absorbed the sensations of his damp hair beneath her fingertips, razor stubble grazing her breast and his warm mouth tugging at her nipple. Her greedy hands longed to touch him. Trace the muscles running across his shoulders.

  Heat radiated from his body, warming her chilled flesh. His hands glided to her bottom and adjusted her position so she lay directly on top of him and then the itchy blanket covered her again. Sensation swamped her.

  She ground her hips against his arousal and reveled in awareness of his muscled arm pressing against her, holding her firmly in place. He was wonderfully warm, and his capable fingers lingered on her most sensitive parts.

  He turned them both sideways and tucked her arm behind her, his teeth nipping at her shoulder. There wasn’t a comparison she could’ve made or any words beyond clichés to describe how thoroughly he explored her mouth.

  His hand slid between them and cupped her core, his fingers teasing light circles against her most sensitive spot. Her hips thrust upward to increase the contact and her body heat jumped off the charts. His chin grazed her breast and then his tongue traced around her areola.

  Slow, sweet torture. Kira didn’t want it to end, but she couldn’t deny her release as she crested the first wave of pleasure.

  His hand halted in midmotion.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmured, thrusting her hips upward in an effort to brush against his fingers. But he anticipated the move and pulled away.

  “I can’t hear you,” he whispered.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  His hand returned and, without deliberation, stroked across her core in unhurried confidence. Her pleasure mounted to an uncontrollable level, throwing her off the ledge she’d been standing on.

  She’d cried his name and compared him to at least two gods before he jumped off the bed, stumbling to the other side of the trailer. She grew chilled as soon as he left her.

&
nbsp; “Dalton?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, dreading the answer. He’d changed his mind and didn’t want her, after all. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

  “I’m sure I brought everything from the car, but I can’t find the box of condoms.”

  She sat up and yanked the blanket to her chest. “I, um, might have thrown them in the backseat.” When they were in the store, she knew he’d added condoms to the list to make her uncomfortable. The same way she’d done by requesting the tampons.

  “I’m sorry.” The apology was for more than the misplaced box. Kira trembled, wanting more of his touch, but she should have said the words sooner.

  He collected his clothes and reached for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  He finally looked her way. “I need some air. Cold rain is better than what my body is insisting I do to yours—condom or no condom.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes. I. Do.” He shoved his legs into the pants and stumbled outside.

  A second later her bra landed on the counter with a wet thud and the door slammed again. Kira wanted to cry through her frustration at his noble deed. She’d been on the verge of discovering what chemistry between two people meant. But she’d never been in any sort of relationship where her feelings were considered.

  And as desperate as she’d felt about having another child, she didn’t want it like this...through deceit. There had been enough dishonesty in her life. She wanted and needed Dalton’s help finding Griffin, but it was worth the cost.

  She stumbled from the bed and grabbed the tote bag he’d left in the small kitchenette, with her items scattered across the floor. One by one she picked up the pieces, much as she had done numerous times since Josh’s betrayal. She located the bottle of pain reliever, pried open the cap and shook a couple more tablets into her hand.

  She hunted for anything to wash the pills down, latched on to a bottle of juice and took two hefty gulps. By now her feet had grown chilly. She clutched the bag to her chest and fell onto the bed, wrapping the blanket firmly around her.

  She knew she couldn’t sleep and she refused to cry. The musty camper deflected the pelting rain, but the wind howled through the cracks around the windows. She scooted into one corner of the small bed and huddled in a ball. Alone again.

  Silent tears burned her cheeks. Maybe she’d allow herself five minutes for a pity party. The day was a total loss. She’d failed to find her husband. She’d involved another innocent person in her dilemma. And she’d dredged up even more of the emotions she’d kept buried for so long. The bag slid to the floor.

  No matter what it took, she had to make sure she used everything she’d collected to prove her innocence. Dalton had presented another roadblock when he’d taken the flash drive. But he wouldn’t succeed in covering for Josh.

  Kira had learned her lessons the hard way. And as much as she didn’t want to hurt Dalton, in the end, it was all about clearing her name.

  * * *

  Dalton didn’t get a moment’s rest for the remainder of the stormy night, most of which he’d spent outside, pacing in the darkness. He’d searched for Kira’s panties, but they were nowhere to be found. Knowing she wasn’t wearing any would drive him insane.

  He’d waited in the freezing rain for over an hour. Plenty of time for him to think. He’d almost bedded a woman he hardly knew. A woman who could be on her way to jail. The lack of condoms was a sign that things were moving too fast.

  When she finally fell asleep, he’d sneaked into the trailer and sorted through the contents of Kira’s bag. He hadn’t paid too much attention when he’d been hauling it through the woods. Most of the items needed a good drying out, but he was happy to find a flashlight at the bottom. Once he installed the batteries, he was able to make a thorough search of the camper.

  He munched on a soy granola bar, pulled a handful of items from the bag and lined them up on the table. Bandages and pain relievers, a sleeve of doughnuts, Band-Aids, hair ties, hand sanitizer, antibiotic ointment, lip gloss, toothbrush and paste and the tampons. Now he knew she’d been bluffing about needing them.

  At the very bottom of the bag, he found a lighter. Bingo. There was a kerosene heater hidden beneath a bench, but he couldn’t find any matches. Five minutes later the heater was running and he peeled off his clothing, laying his jeans and T-shirt over the plastic tub to dry.

  As the rain continued to pound against the trailer, Dalton discovered another plastic tub beneath a bench on the opposite side of the table. Inside he found two pairs of thick socks, T-shirts and sweatpants. He yanked one of the shirts over his head and pulled on dry socks.

  The other clothing was too small, but there was also a first aid kit, a roll of toilet paper and a compass. The last item could get them to the road. Returning to the Caddy might not be very safe. If the man following them located the vehicle, he could be searching for them right now.

  Dalton spent the remainder of the night seated in the kitchen area, listening to Kira talk in her sleep. Yep, she was quite the chatterbox. She hated gravy, lost her favorite pair of sunglasses and believed her mug shot was flattering. She apologized too much and to everyone, almost as if she was reading from a phone book.

  As daylight glowed on the horizon, he shoved her few belongings back into her bag. They needed to get moving soon and, for safety’s sake, in another direction. Maybe somewhere he could pick up a cell tower and make a call. Get them back to civilization and find a computer, so he could learn what was stored on the flash drive.

  Kira stirred. He quickly dressed, shoving the compass and phone into his jeans pockets as he waited. He should stop considering her feelings and wake her without preamble.

  Circumstances had brought them together. Poor judgment had caused him to drop his guard. And raw need summed up the rest. He was disappointed in himself. Disappointed and feeling more than a little guilty for enjoying what they’d shared.

  In the early light of dawn he tried convincing himself she was nothing special. Right. He’d almost slept with a woman he barely knew. A woman who said she’d been married to Josh and who had done everything in her power to make their situation as difficult as possible.

  Her eyes fluttered and then slipped open while she stretched and yawned. Her blond hair was flattened on one side of her head and he noticed a few touches of greenery tucked between the strands.

  “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  She nodded. “Can I have my clothes?” She covered her nose with one hand and sneezed twice. “And a Kleenex.”

  He retrieved the toilet paper and tossed it onto the bed.

  She blew her nose and looked around the trailer. “Is there a bathroom in here?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “I need to use the...facilities.” She held up the toilet paper for emphasis.

  He sat back and crossed his arms. Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t. From this point forward he wouldn’t take a word she uttered at face value.

  “First we talk.”

  She started to object and then quickly pursed her lips together. Now that he had her attention, what should he say?

  “About what?” She was well versed in appearing unaffected by his comments.

  “Why did you run from the car last night?”

  She shrugged. “I thought you were calling the police. Dying in the woods seemed better than going to prison.”

  “Why didn’t you ask?”

  “Because we—” she gestured between them “—aren’t friends. I’m causing you all sorts of trouble. I could tell you’d had enough.”

  “Are you psychic or something?” If he hadn’t decided which way to turn, how could she possibly know that he was done helping her?

&nbs
p; She tugged the sheet a bit higher and leaned against the trailer’s wall. “Dalton, you took me to a cemetery and showed me a whole lot of graves. You care about family, and Josh was your brother. It makes no sense for you to help me.”

  “My life hasn’t made sense for a while.” Everything she said was true. Family mattered to him, and getting mixed up with her had been twelve solid hours of insanity. But he’d also let her think that Josh wasn’t capable of the kind of deception she described.

  “Then give me my clothes so I can leave.”

  “Don’t you mean so we can leave? Together?”

  “Of course.”

  Last night he would have turned her over without a second thought. The stunt with the keys and then the game of cat and mouse in the rain earned her zero loyalty from him. And then he’d sat a few feet away and listened to her nightmares. He knew the kind of inescapable pain that tormented dreams. He’d hammered a few nails at three o’clock in the morning to avoid sleep. On the anniversary of Lauren’s death, he’d used a sledgehammer and knocked down an old shed. At nightfall, he’d lit a match to the pile of boards and sat for hours watching them burn.

  Running from the truth wouldn’t solve anything.

  He looked at Kira, her eyes swollen and her nose red from crying, and felt her defeat. He, of all people, knew what happened when someone was cornered. Their despair became palpable. Their facade for the world started to slip and they saw no way out. Like Lauren.

  “Dalton?”

  His attention refocused and he noticed Kira had slipped to the edge of the bed and dropped her bare legs over the side. Her skin was streaked with mud and covered in scrapes and bruises.

  “Clothes.”

  He tossed her the stack he’d gotten from the plastic tub. “Put these on.”

  “Why can’t I have my clothes?”

  He tossed her the bra. She waited.

  “And my underwear?”

  “Gone.” He shrugged, not caring whether she believed him or not.