Dean’s entourage exchanged nervous glances before nodding and slinking back to the hotel without even meeting Jai’s gaze. Jarrah could almost hear Manningham’s intoxicated brain weighing up his career against his ego before mumbling something under his breath and trudging after his backup.
Dean stopped and almost fell on his ass as he turned and jabbed a finger at Jarrah. “Don’t worry, boy. I’m sure I’ll be able to find some odd jobs for you and your tribe to do when I’m running Wingarra.”
It’d been a long time since Jarrah had wanted to beat the shit out of anybody. The only thing stopping him from charging the fucker and dropping him where he stood were the fingers Olivia had curled around his forearm.
Jai sighed, a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to last until Dean staggered back inside the Grand. He turned and tipped his hat at Olivia. “Please accept my apologies. They’re not used to being deprived of what they want.”
Jarrah caught the covert grin Jai flicked his way, but he was battling way too many emotions to figure out whether it was admiration or a threat.
Olivia’s eyes still spat venom and breath hissed between her clenched teeth, but she released him and returned Jai’s nod.
Long, silent seconds dragged by as Jai’s gaze slid between Olivia and Jarrah before a sly smile spread across his face. “And Doc?” Jai jutted his chin at Jarrah. “Can you please make sure my mate gets home safely?”
Chapter Fifteen
Olivia clamped her fingers around the Land Cruiser’s steering wheel and stared into the cone of light thrown into the darkness by the ute’s spotlights. She and Jarrah had left the Grand close to half an hour ago, and her lungs still burned, her heart still hammered, and her hands continued trembling. And it had nothing to do with the fight they’d narrowly avoided.
Her father’s paranoia and training had prepared her for assholes. Endless emergency room nightshifts had desensitized her against the side effects of adrenaline, but nothing had prepared her for the man sitting stone still beside her.
Even in the aftermath of their run-in, he’d barely looked at her let alone spoken while ushering her into the driver’s seat like a bodyguard and handing her the keys. Now he sat silently beside her and stared out the bug-spattered windshield as if searching the desert for the same answers she sought.
The Wishing Tree emerged out of the darkness like a giant ghost and taunted her with visions of a cocky stockman galloping toward her across the desert.
She tried convincing herself the dryness in her throat and the tightness in her chest were just the downsides of the adrenaline rush she’d ridden. Yet even as she ordered herself to keep driving, her foot lifted off the accelerator and her arms steered them off the road and into the scrub as if they had a mind of their own.
He didn’t say a word. Not one word as she guided the ute between boulders, over rocks, through scrub, and pulled up in the mottled shadows cast by the Wishing Tree’s canopy. She keyed off the ignition, switched off the lights, and removed her seat belt while the cool night air drifted through the open windows and the silence consumed them.
The click from his buckle and the slow drag of his seat belt sliding home had her tightening her grip on the wheel. While the quiet crushed her chest, she searched the moonlight for answers to the questions she’d sought for days. Questions that had kept her tossing throughout the night since she’d stared into his eyes and seen herself peering back.
Tick. Tick. Tick. With every tick from the cooling engine, the electricity tingling between them grew until it crackled across her skin and ignited something inside her. Twisting in her seat, she latched onto his face and dragged his mouth to hers before claiming him with her tongue. Driving deeper, she scrambled over the shifter and clambered on top of him.
His guttural groans became hers as he buried his fingers in her hair and trapped her face to his.
The hand brake gouged her thigh, the dash scraped her back, the roof crushed her head, and she didn’t care. She wanted this man, wanted him beneath her, on top of her, and inside her.
…
Jarrah tore his trembling hand free of Olivia’s hair and fumbled for the door handle. Yanking it open, he half carried and half dragged her from the cabin and pulled her into his arms. He’d chased women, wanted them, lusted after them; but he’d never needed a woman before.
Her arms and legs wrapped around him as he crushed her to his chest and explored the mouth he’d been secretly admiring the entire night. Her desperate moans and frantic gasps for breath silenced the sirens screaming in his head. This, her, them, it had been inevitable, and whatever lurked beyond the horizon could fuck itself.
With a growl, she wrenched her lips from his and tore at his shirt. Buttons popped and cotton tore as she tugged his shirt free and attacked his buckle. She’d worked loose his belt and unbuttoned him before her boots had even touched the ground.
He claimed her mouth and yanked open her jeans before hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging the denim and whatever the hell she wore beneath over her hips and down her thighs. He’d dreamed of skimpy thongs barely covering her sex and disappearing between her magnificent arse, but she could’ve worn Y-fronts and still been the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.
His cock buckled against his zipper as she staggered back and kicked off her boots. Long, slender curves sheathed in creamy skin shimmered in the moonlight as he froze before her, caught between the desperate need to see all of her and an insatiable hunger to be inside her.
He tore off what remained of his shirt and fanned it out across the ute’s tray before tackling her. His hands fumbled over her superheated flesh. His impatience to touch every delicious valley and swell had him struggling to breathe.
She deserved better. She deserved a romantic candlelit dinner, French champagne, soft music, and an even softer bed. All he had was a shirt to protect her delicate skin from the ute’s dusty tray, the gentle rustle of the leaves above their heads, and a billion stars shining down on them.
Her mouth fell on his before she sucked her way along his jaw as her fingers clawed at his back and shredded his self-control. With a curse and silent promise to give her everything she deserved and more, he cupped her naked butt and hoisted her onto his shirt. He wanted to savor her, caress her, taste her, he wanted to make love to her for days, but he’d be lucky to free his hard-on from his jeans before embarrassing himself. And she wasn’t helping.
She attacked him with the same ferocity she’d unleashed in the car park, and he was powerless against her. Her mouth trailed fire along his jaw before she growled in his ear and sank her teeth into his shoulder as he ground his imprisoned erection into her.
With a curse that sounded more like a whimper, he broke free of her embrace and yanked down his jeans with enough force to almost snap him in half. Pre-come soaked the head of his cock and shocked him out of his trance. Diving into the jeans bunched around his ankles, he grabbed his wallet and yanked out a condom. The wallet slipped from his frantic fingers as he tore open the condom and fumbled the latex over the soaked head of his cock before straightening.
With a gasp that sounded almost as desperate as his own, she gripped the edge of the tray and pulled herself forward. The breasts he’d yet to savor or even see heaved beneath her disheveled shirt as she spread her thighs and revealed the golden strip of hair leading to her glistening sex.
He froze before her and lost himself in the bottomless pools staring back at him. The swollen lips he’d feasted on parted, yet no sound came out before she closed them again and swallowed. The heat radiating from her ignited his skin as he cradled her cheeks in his hand and brushed his lips to hers. Lust and insanity waged war for control of him. But even now, with the head of his cock threatening to explode and his body coiled so tight it could buckle, he couldn’t rush her, push her, hurt her; she was too special. Too perfect.
…
Olivia froze and stared into the darkness consuming her as Jarrah’s hands set fire to her che
eks and ignited a firestorm across her skin. The tension radiating from him rippled through her, yet his touch remained a caress. How could a man so skilled in the art of violence be so gentle?
Even now, with his cock just inches away and his breath coming in ragged gasps, he waited. Waited for her to invite him inside her, waited for her to set them on a path that had no destination other than heartbreak.
With one trembling hand, she brushed the lips she’d mauled, and with the other she gripped him. He jerked upright and hissed in a breath. She grinned and shook her head as she gently squeezed the latex he’d somehow remembered. Thank God his sanity wasn’t hanging from the same thread hers was.
She captured his jaw and drew him closer until they shared breath. She wanted to see him entering her, watch herself exploding over him in his eyes’ reflection, and savor the look on his face when he emptied himself inside her. Pulling him closer, she wiggled forward and engulfed him.
Their shared groans filled the air as he eased inside her. Inch by agonizing inch, he slid and stretched his way home until he’d filled every hidden part of her. She sucked in breath and prepared for his inevitable retreat, but he stilled and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, sweet, and shredded her sanity.
Her frustrated growl seemed to surprise him as much as it amused him. Clawing her fingers into his back, she tightened her legs around his waist and impaled herself on his cock. With each breathless grunt, with each thrust, the wide-eyed wonder he studied her with transformed into a desperation that had him clenching his jaw and matching each of her awkward bucks with his own.
Sweat beaded across his skin and trickled down his body, coating the arms and legs she’d clamped around him as he quickened his pace. With each thrust, he pushed harder and deeper and drove her toward the precipice she’d teetered on for days. The scent of sweat and sex mingled with the erotic sounds their bodies created as the land beneath her fell away and she tumbled into the abyss.
…
Jarrah watched in awe as the eyes holding him prisoner rolled back and a breathless moan oozed from Olivia’s mouth. She stiffened, arched her back, and shattered around him, over him, and through him. Desperate to feel her clenching around his cock, he tightened his embrace and buried himself inside her.
The arms and legs hanging limp around him stirred as consciousness slowly returned to her eyes. Clamping her hands around his head, she drew him down until their foreheads touched. She bucked against him and dared him to join her.
He gritted his teeth and hung on. Just one more breath, just one more moan, just one more thrust…he fought to prolong the madness. All it took was one more plunge into her eyes and everything he was exploded out of him and into her. His legs buckled and he collapsed against her as wave after wave of blissful agony crashed through him.
He had no idea who clung to whom, and he didn’t care. She was everything he’d dreamed of and so much more. Gentle and strong, soft and hard, calming and terrifying, all wrapped up in a body he couldn’t bring himself to release.
Seconds, minutes…hell, hours could’ve dragged by as he softened inside her and their heartbeats fell into rhythm with the crickets and rustling leaves surrounding them.
“Wh-what the hell do we do now?”
Her hesitant whisper drifted across his neck and ignited a need inside him he feared would never be sated. Leaning just far enough away so he could lose himself in her eyes, he cradled her face in his hands and dropped his forehead to hers. “No fucking idea.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Big House’s corrugated-iron roof and hardwood floorboards whispered stories to Olivia as moonlight shone through her open window. Another day in the desert had flashed by, and she once again found herself peeking over the horizon at the real life waiting for her back in L.A. She sighed into the silent darkness and turned to watch the lace curtains dance on the cool breeze drifting into her room. One down, three short weeks to go.
Nothing seemed real in this magical world. The heat, the dust, the flies, the arid desolation, it should’ve been a nightmare. Yet the hardships this unforgiving place forced her to endure only lured her further into the fairy tale that had claimed Abi and was slowly seducing her.
She tucked her hands behind her head and breathed in the night’s scent as the smile that never seemed far from her face curved her lips. The family who’d adopted her was complete. Ethan had returned that morning with a small high-rise’s worth of titanium scaffolding bracing his fractured leg and a grin as vibrant as his tattooed arms.
They’d waited by the side of the dirt road that served as Baroona’s airport to greet him while he’d clambered out of the light plane Jarrah had chartered. Her patient had casually shepherded his siblings out of the way with one of his crutches before discarding the walking aids and wrapping her up in a hug that almost crushed the life out her. The Royal Flying Doctors and his surgeons in Brisbane had been the real heroes, but it had still taken most of the day for her feet to settle back onto the ground.
Naya hadn’t been far behind Ethan. After outwrestling the pilot for control of their bags, she’d promptly handed them over to Ryder and Jarrah before hugging and kissing her children. Olivia grinned as she remembered the choked and teary-eyed thank-you Naya had half whispered and half sobbed into her ear as Mother Harper had squeezed out what air Ethan had left inside her. The stress of the last few days spent watching over her son had dragged on Naya. But no sooner had the Harper matriarch returned to her kingdom than she’d proclaimed Abi and Ryder’s wedding would take place tomorrow evening.
Abi and Ryder couldn’t have cared less when or even if the wedding took place, since they’d pretty much been married from the moment they’d met. So they were the only people not stressing out over last-minute details. The rest of the Harpers had tried convincing Naya to postpone it a few days, but she’d calmly, if not completely politely, stated she’d waited long enough for one of her kids to get married and she wasn’t waiting one goddamned day longer.
The ceremony wouldn’t be a problem. Naya had completed the celebrant course and received her certificate the day after Ryder and Abi had broken the news of their engagement. Only the nine of them would attend the ceremony, so that wasn’t an issue. And the Wishing Tree was stunning enough without ribbons and bows. The reception, on the other hand, sounded as if it would involve the entire town. But even that was handled with the same bickering and laughter the Harpers tackled everything with.
Jarrah and Kira had been tasked with alerting Baroona’s gossip net, which by all accounts was quicker and more efficient than the interwebs, while Maddie and Ryder had marshaled the mustering crew to prepare the courtyard for the impending invasion. Olivia had raised the question of rain only to have the entire dining room fall silent before exploding with laughter.
Food and drinks weren’t going to be a problem, either, considering Wingarra’s pantries, fridges, and deep freezers overflowed with the spoils of her holiday doctoring, and the guests would bring platters of food and coolers of drinks with them. It had taken her a while to catch on, but unlike the L.A. weddings she’d attended, Outback weddings were more about friends and family coming together to party rather than to keep up with the Joneses. Everybody was invited. Dressing up was purely voluntary. Everyone brought their own chairs and tables and sat wherever the hell they wanted. Eating, drinking, dancing, and singing were mandatory. And expensive presents frowned upon. The whole affair appeared to have more in common with a huge barbecue than a wedding, and that only added to the excitement.
Olivia’s mind drifted to rusted utes, Wishing Trees, and a certain naked stockman; just like it had done whenever she hadn’t been helping with the wedding or seeing treat-bearing patients. Her heart rate spiked as sensations from the previous night pumped heat through the X-rated parts of her that still hadn’t calmed down: Jarrah dragging her out of the Land Cruiser and crushing her to his chest, his fingers clawing into her naked butt as he hoisted her onto the ute and pu
shed between her thighs, the moonlight glistening off the ridges and valleys carved into his torso, his steel cock sliding in—
She wrenched off the sheet and gasped in air. The orgasm that’d torn through her while she’d clung to him had been like nothing she’d ever experienced. Frantic, forbidden, exhilarating, magical, and terrifying all at the same time. Even as she’d shuddered and collapsed into his embrace, she’d known a few desperate stolen moments in the desert were never going to be enough.
Despite his hand remaining locked around her thigh and his gaze never drifting too far from hers, she’d spent the silent drive back to Wingarra working through the five stages of grief while preparing for reality to crash through her afterglow. Denial, anger, and bargaining had been easy. She’d been living in denial from the moment she’d realized that more than just a playboy lurked beneath his cheeky grin. She’d also been bargaining lust against logic since she’d seen him working the heavy bag. Anger had even put in a brief appearance when she’d finally admitted to herself that the first man who’d ever actually rocked her world was the one man she couldn’t have.
What she hadn’t expected was the bone-deep sorrow. She’d experienced more than her fair share of lows, yet the prospect of only sharing a few weeks with him before starting her new job hurt more than she imagined. Especially when she should be jumping out of her skin at the prospect of working off some energy and living it up before starting the career she’d worked toward her entire life.
They’d barely exchanged more than a hesitant nod while she’d crawled home in second gear. By the time she’d parked in the courtyard and climbed out of the cabin, she’d grudgingly reached acceptance. If the frenzied erotic moments they’d just shared were all life threw her way, they’d still be some of the most unforgettable minutes she’d ever experience.
He’d already assumed the role of the sensible member of their whatever the hell it was when he’d somehow broken free of their naked wrestle to wrench on a condom. And with blood flow restored to her brain during the drive home, she’d prepared herself for whatever came. If he’d wanted to pretend it never happened, or put the brakes on before things got even crazier, she’d suck it up. Hell, she was a big girl with the world at her feet, and it wasn’t as if they’d ever had a chance of being anything more than workout buddies.
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