“He was Willie’s uncle too. Or maybe a fifth cousin or something.” She sipped again. The alcohol was settling her rattled nerves. “On the Ridge, everyone is related to everyone else – one way or another.”
“This is good.” He rolled it around in his mouth like he was savoring a fine wine. She had seen Patrick do that. “Smooth. Mellow. He must age it in whiskey barrels.”
“I don’t know. Making applejack isn’t something that’s discussed around females. And this is only my second taste ever.”
“Hmm.” He took another appreciative sip. “Well, it’s better than good. This wasn’t anyone’s first rodeo.” He cocked his head. “Listen.”
“Sheriff’s department. And EMS,” Amber confirmed. Her cell pinged. “I have a text from Steve. The cops have Blondie and Dog in custody. The scene is still taped off.”
“Yeah? I can probably go home in a bit, if I stick to the roads.”
“Stay.”
“That’s the applejack talking,” he said. “Or your fright.”
“Maybe. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to die without making love to you even once.”
He took her into his arms and rocked her against his chest. His heart beat slowly and reassuringly. “That’s the best offer I’ve had in years,” he crooned. “Maybe ever. But I don’t want to take advantage of your fright.” He kissed her forehead.
She was suddenly certain. “Stay.” She put her face up for his kiss.
He stiffened. “I’m not the man I used to be, Amber.” Her ears picked up on something anxious in his drawl.
“What do you mean?”
“You know that tat I told you about?”
“The bear with a rose in her mouth?”
“Not much left except her head.”
“Oh, Lance.” She spread her hands across his chest. “You must have been badly injured.”
He snorted. “You could say that.” He held her hands still. “My wife left me because she couldn’t stand to look at me.”
“If you’re shy, we can turn out the lights.” No need to tell him she could see perfectly well without them.
“You’re very sweet.” He kissed her properly this time.
His mouth took hers in one of those languorous, delicious kisses she was learning to appreciate. She always felt when Lance kissed her that he wasn’t just humoring her so they could get to the main event. He kissed her as if he wanted to stretch out the moment. As if he liked kissing as much as she did.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Calvin~
He had to have endured worse humiliations than Arruta’s smirk as she told him to bend over so she could pick buckshot out of his naked ass. But not often and not more than once.
“Tell me again,” she said, “Why you were up a tree guarding that cabin when Holden told you he had the place under video surveillance?”
He growled.
“Thought so. You weekend soldiers have no discipline. No sense of how to take orders or function as a team.” He couldn’t see Arruta’s face from this position, but it was pretty obvious she was enjoying herself.
Two could play this game. “How are you and Holden planning to explain a dead man? A naked dead man?”
“What’s to explain?” she asked dryly. “Blondie was obviously a dangerous lunatic, intent on raping Amber.” She clucked her tongue. “We saw this dangerous criminal creeping up on her cabin, naked as a bluejay, on our CCTV and acted.”
“If you have video footage, it’s of a snake not a man.”
“You see, that’s the beauty of a naked guy lying on the frozen ground.” Her complacent tones grated worse than the buckshot rolling between her tweezers. Another ball hit the pan.
“The sheriff didn’t want to see our footage. He wanted to know what that bastard was doing on Double B land in the altogether in March. He might send some deputies out to look for Blondie’s missing clothes, but my guess is he’ll ask Dog where they are. Dog will tell him, and that will be the end of it.”
Calvin grunted. The tweezers dug deeper. Another lead ball clinked into Arruta’s metal bowl.
“Last one,” she said. “I’ll disinfect the area and bandage it. You ought to be good as new in a week.”
“Thank you,” he managed.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she corrected. She rubbed his ass with the fires of hell.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he parroted.
For a dominatrix, she certainly had a lovely laugh. Rich, warm, husky.
She slapped two bandages on his butt cheeks, and a third on the small of his back. “Put your clothes on, Capt., and I’ll pull those thorns out of your hands and feet.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Lance~
Now that it was his moment of truth, he was nervous. Beyond nervous. It had been a long time. It wasn’t just his scars that had put Holly off. She hadn’t cared much for his limp dick. That problem had seemed to have been cured by being around his lovely Amber. But now it was back. Or rather it wasn’t.
Holly had taken it personally. How the hell else would a woman take it? But so far, although she was wrapped up against his body and squirming against him, innocent little Amber didn’t seem to have noticed. Best to concentrate on this kiss. She was a great kisser. She put the soul back into soul kissing.
He could kiss her all night. Her soft body fit against his as if it had been designed for his comfort and pleasure. She was vibrating with the force of her passion, even as her tongue slid slowly along his lips as if she were memorizing his taste as he was memorizing hers. As slowly as if she wished to make this slow seduction last all night. As eagerly as if he was still handsome.
If this was all he would ever have, he had better make the most of his opportunity. Because no man in the history of the world had ever had a more delectable armful of soft, warm, willing woman. He set himself to engrave himself on all her senses.
She parted her lips, inviting him in, but he held back, teasing her just a little with tender nibbles on the corners of her mouth and a nip on her plump bottom lip. He breathed in her breath and exhaled into her half-open mouth. She sighed as if she felt the same pleasure in the intimacy of sharing each other’s air.
Her eyes were soft. Her pupils were great black orbs as they gazed into each other’s hearts and breathed as one being. Tranquility replaced the frenzied anxiety that had interrupted their wooing.
Amber’s lips pressed back softly against his, as she gently kissed her way around his lips, tasting and nibbling. Her heart rate settled. It was still high, but had lost the erratic quality that signaled stress. Now she was aroused, not frightened.
Her breathy moans and soft sighs were musical. They sang a song of homecoming and peace to his tortured mind. A song of soaring hope and promise. He began to believe in the future. Not the future of one moment at a time, or even of one day at a time, that for years had been all he had dared to hope for. But a future where this lovely woman shared his life and they made each other happy.
Her lips left his and explored his chin. Her fingertips grazed his left cheek. He flinched. She yanked her hand away. “Did I hurt you?” she whispered.
“Surprised me.”
“Don’t you like to be touched there?”
“I don’t know. No one ever has.” At least not since the medics had taken off the bandages. Although Amber had kissed him there. A tender kiss that had stolen his heart.
“Oh.” She stood on tiptoe and kept pressing soft, warm, open-mouthed kisses on the lumpy scar tissue. Trailed up to the edge of his patch.
He tried to relax. But although the gentle caress was like water in the desert, he still feared her revulsion. But when she spoke, her voice was husky with arousal. “Your skin still smells like you. Is it more sensitive, or less? Should I stroke softly, or harder?” Her fingertips echoed her tender questioning.
He caught her hand, pulled it off his cheek. “You don’t have to.”
“Your scars are part of you. Marks of courage.” She tugged her finger
s away and replaced them. Patted lightly. “Soldiers should wear their scars like medals.”
“Who said that?”
“I did.”
“Sounds like you’re quoting.”
“Maybe I am. It’s the sort of thing that gets said on Memorial Day back home.”
“Oh. Doesn’t make them less ugly.”
“Beauty starts on the inside,” she said primly. “Handsome too, I guess. It’s not much of a love that’s dependent on what people look like. Everybody changes, Lance. Every day we age.” Her voice was serious, urgent. “If it’s just my face you like, you’re doomed to disappointment.”
“I’m not that shallow,” he protested.
Her hands spread across his chest, slipped under his fleece vest, toyed with the buttons of his work shirt. “But I am?”
“You are anything but shallow, Amber Dupré, but there’s no getting away from the fact that you’re starting with damaged goods.” No denying that he didn’t want her hands to go beneath his undershirt and discover the pitted and fissured road map underneath. He didn’t want to face Amber’s disgust. He had a feeling it would cut even deeper than Holly’s had.
“Don’t you say that.” Her voice was fierce. “You survived. You came home.” Her voice broke. “How many others didn’t get that chance?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Amber~
“Aw, honey. Don’t you know that there are some things you can’t control?”
“Lance Prescott, what in blue blazes are you talking about?”
“I’m a mass of ugly scar tissue, Amber. Never had the plastic surgery, so the wounds are as gross as field surgery can leave them. They’ll turn your stomach whether you want them to or not.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was perfectly serious. Here she was, ready to make love, and he was worrying that she might not find him attractive. But there was no point in pooh-poohing his dread.
He reeked of testosterone. He exuded arousal. Yet he had no erection. A girl might think there was something the matter with her. A bear knew better. He was afraid.
This soldier who had defended her with his body without a trace of fear, was afraid that she might be disgusted by his scars. Was she woman enough to get them past this?
This was no time to be blunt. She had better not approach this too directly. Men had fragile egos. And nothing was more fragile than a fellow’s feelings about his dick.
And yet, despite his evident misery, happiness was rising in her as effervescent as bubbles in soda pop. She had been uncertain, but suddenly she was sure. As if his hesitancy had solidified her feelings. She felt strong, vital, womanly. Her love for this man had released feminine power she hadn’t known she possessed.
“You can keep your shirt on,” she promised. She took his hand and tugged him to the bed. “Come on, you can tell me all the reasons I won’t enjoy this later.”
As she had hoped, he laughed.
She turned on the bedside lamp which cast only a narrow cone of light and slipped away to turn off the overhead light. “Dark enough?”
“There is no dark, dark enough.” His voice was bleak.
They had to get past this, or they could never have any kind of life together. While she had been moaning on about her dear, dead Willie, Lance had been dealing with his own demons and the deepest insecurities any man could face. It was true that he was disfigured, but it was a pretty poor sort of love that was dependent on looks. Looks might be enough for getting you to notice a guy, but character was what love was based on.
“Then you better undress me first. So I can see to hang my stuff up.” She kept her tone matter of fact, although she was blushing at her pushiness.
“Are you sure?”
“I have never been more certain of anything, my love.”
He cupped her face between his palms and bent to kiss her. This time his kiss was desperate. He kissed her as if she might vanish. He probably believed her feelings would evaporate once she saw his maimed flesh. She could see no way to persuade him of her love except to lay bare her own feelings.
Lance had not spoken of love. But she did not doubt that he loved her. Her bear could not be mistaken. His love was obvious in the way he spoke to her, the way he touched her. In his smell and taste. She did not think he would be convinced by words. What he needed was the evidence of his senses.
She let her bear loose. If the bawdy she-bear who lived in her heart was too much female for him she would know soon enough. But she had a feeling that this soldier who had survived wounds that ought to have killed him, could handle a bear even at her most passionate.
The passion she felt for Lance was a whole new sensation for her. She had always thought she and Willie had achieved a metaphysical blend of sexual desire and love. Now she realized that her teenage self would have been scared spitless by the emotions and passions she felt for Lance.
In the intervening years she had matured. This intense blend of lust and tenderness would have been beyond her and Willie. They had been children playing at love. This was the real thing. And she knew with a deep certainty that just as her love for Willie would have grown and matured if they had had the opportunity, her love for Lance would also grow and blossom in the years ahead.
He hadn’t yet moved to undo her shirt, but he was kissing her as if their lives depended on him getting it just right. The rich ripe scent of sexual arousal was heady in her nostrils, ramping up her urgency. She returned his kiss fiercely. She seized his exploring tongue and sucked gently and then more firmly, increasing the tempo until his skin was damp and his moans were deep growls.
For a few seconds she thought she might have miscalculated. But her ferocious hunger seemed to reassure him. He gripped her even closer and angled her head so that his tongue could reach the deepest recesses of her mouth. She suckled it more fiercely. Moved his hands to her snaps.
He pulled away panting. “You still have time to change your mind,” he said.
She smiled. “I want this. I want you.”
“You could have Bascom. I can never give you the kind of life he could.”
“I don’t want any kind of life with Calvin Bascom. I don’t want to be a rich man’s plaything, or anything else.”
“You’re his cousin’s sister-in-law, Calvin would marry you. He’d have to.”
“And divorce me just as easy. I don’t want to do this with that big, handsome brute. I find I have a taste for a different kind of man.”
Lance pulled her back into his arms. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
“You don’t mind that I’m jealous?”
“I mind that you’d think, even for a minute, that I’d be standing here doing this with you if I had any kind of hankering for that man. Now, can we put this whole Calvin nonsense to bed? This is my first time, and I don’t want to be sleeping three in a bed.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Amber~
“Your first time?” Tenderness rose in him. He hesitated. Stroked her cheek. “I wouldn’t take your virginity, if you were saving yourself for marriage.”
She chuckled. “Not my first time making love. My first time doing it in a bed. Willie and I had to make do with the bank of the creek or his truck.”
Laughter spilled out. “You little tease.” He hugged her tightly and kissed the side of her neck, nibbling on the tendons.
Lightning streaked straight to her nipples and clit. She moaned and squirmed closer. “Undress me,” she begged.
Her voice broke the spell. He stiffened. Except for his cock, which drooped. He really did expect her to be nauseated by his appearance. His ex-wife had a lot to answer for. But Holly wasn’t here. And she had been foolish enough to let this man go. Her loss. Amber’s gain. She had more sense.
She replaced his fingers on her shirt snaps. Made her voice matter-of-fact when her heart was thudding. “Be careful with my bra, it tends to turn into a tourniquet when it’s removed.”
“What?” He forgot about h
is own concerns in figuring out what she meant.
“I wear a sports bra in the stable,” she said. “No hooks or buckles to twist or bind, but it’s sort of like a big old ace bandage for the chest.”
“Let me see.” He spread the sides of her shirt and revealed her breasts straining at the sturdy Lycra and cotton undergarment. Sexy it was not. But her breasts could rock a Kevlar vest. Lance clearly agreed. His eyes rounded.
“That is the idea,” she purred, pushing her girls out just a little. She did not want to knock him over, just tempt him a bit.
A long finger probed under the breast band. “This goes over your head in one piece?” His words were thick and syrup as if the poor guy’s tongue was dry. Probably from hanging out so far.
She rolled her shoulders so her breasts jiggled. Sweat popped on his forehead. Really she was such a siren. Imagine, little Amber Dupré was a sex kitten. She chuckled and was surprised at the husky sensual noise. “Shirt has to come off first,” she breathed. “And then the bra.”
He undid the snaps at her wrists and eased the shirt off. Dropped it on the floor. She performed another shoulder roll, just to keep him on his toes.
“It’s tight,” he sounded surprised.
“Very.”
He raised the band an inch or so before it stuck. “Uh. This doesn’t seem to be working.” He pulled it back down below her breasts. Gave the top slopes a little peck. “What’s the secret?”
She sighed. This was her life. “Pull from the sides and expect the bra to turn into a bungee cord.”
No one ever said that Marines didn’t have a can-do attitude. It took him three tries, but at last he wrestled it over her head and looked at the circle of black elastic he was holding. “Did I ruin it?”
She took it out of his hand. “Sadly, no. It will return to being an instrument of torture.”
His fingers traced the marks where the breast band and straps had dug into her skin. “It hurts you?”
Flames licked where his fingers passed, but she kept her tone casual. “Well, yeah. Bras are the best idea for harnessing a rack, but they fall far short of perfection. But this conversation is spoiling my mood.”
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 18
