by Karen Kelley
“Did you cook all of this?”
He shook his head. A lock of dark blond hair fell forward, grazing his forehead. “I’m probably the worst cook in the world.”
“Take out?” She didn’t know of any place in town where you could get take out like this.
“A place called Mama Paula’s. You’ve never tasted food as good as hers.”
She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she ate a meal that wasn’t thrown together or one Grandpa had fixed.
Bologna sandwiches were his idea of a complete and nutritious meal. If it was cold outside, he’d fry the bologna and add a can of tomato soup.
The only thing going through her mind was filling her stomach. Dammit, she didn’t want to think about food. She forced her eyes away from the stupid roasted hen and the other food and stared at him. He looked none the worse for having gotten bonked on the noggin. “I guess you’ve healed,” she said, not even attempting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
His smile was slow and started her heart beating faster. “Yeah, nephilim heal fast.” He motioned toward a side chair. “Have a seat before this gets cold.”
“Can’t you warm it up with your eyes or something? You know, zap it with fire?” She was feeling prickly.
He laughed. She liked the sound. It came from way down deep. “No, only demons do that.”
“Great. Something else I’ll have to worry about.”
He frowned. “Not as long as I’m around.”
But he wouldn’t hang around even if he could. She never let anyone stay very long in her life. Well, except Grandpa. They were family, and family should stick together. He was good to her and he raised her the best way he could. He was always there if she needed him. He was the one who’d taught her about being strong.
And she was strong. When her mother left, she saw what it did to her father. Raine vowed she would never give anyone that much power. The easiest way to keep her promise to herself was not let anyone get too close. It worked.
She watched Dillon open a bottle of wine and pour some into two long-stemmed glasses. He didn’t belong in her world any more than her past lovers. Even less. The whole town thought she and Grandpa robbed the stupid bank all because she mentioned an angel was shot saving her life.
But he had saved her life. That counted for a lot.
Her stomach rumbled again. Odd how no matter what went on in someone’s life, their body still had needs that had to be met.
She was hungry. The emptiness inside her was a hollow ache.
She sauntered to the table but rather than take the side chair he motioned toward, she pulled out the one on the end. She always sat at the head of the table and she wasn’t about to change. Her choice didn’t seem to bother him. She didn’t have any idea why that should irritate her, but it did.
“I still have chores I need to do,” she told him.
He pulled out a chair at the side of the table and sat. “They’re done.” He raised his glass of wine and took a drink.
She frowned. They were her chores, not his. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she realized how ungrateful it sounded.
“Thank you. It wasn’t necessary, though.”
“I know, but I want to make love to you again and I didn’t want to wait that long.”
Her body trembled. She grabbed her glass of wine and downed half of it before setting the glass back on the table. He
was trying to take control again. “If we make love.” He had his nerve thinking she would fall into his arms whenever he snapped his fingers. “You came back to fix my life, remember.”
“You know we will, so don’t pretend otherwise.” He carved a slice off the roasted hen and placed it on her plate.
Now he was telling her what she would do! He hadn’t stopped, if she thought about it. He even wanted control in the bedroom.
Not that she let him have it. A few more minutes and she might have given in, though. That bothered her.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
Startled, she met his eyes. “What?”
He added potatoes and a roll to her plate. “I’ll make your life right again.” He took her hand in his. “I’ll make everything better.”
For a moment, his gaze held hers and she found it impossible to look away. The heat began to build inside her as her body ached for his touch. It took all the willpower she could muster to drag her eyes away. As soon as she did, she jerked her hand out of his.
“You’re doing it again!” she accused. “It isn’t natural.”
“What?”
She met his gaze then quickly looked away. “You know exactly what I mean. You hypnotized me.”
He chuckled. She frowned.
“There’s not a thing funny about it.”
“Eat,” he said softly and picked up his fork. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I didn’t mean to do it that time.”
She didn’t like the idea of him being able to control her for even a few minutes.
“But we will make love again and it won’t be because I’ve mesmerized you with my eyes. You’ll want to make love because you won’t be able to deny yourself.”
She stabbed her fork into the piece of meat and grabbed the knife sitting beside her plate. She sawed off a piece harder than she needed. The meat was so tender she could have cut it with just the fork, but it felt good to wield the utensil. Probably because she knew he was right. They would make love again.
“So you think you know everything, huh?”
“No, not everything. But that was a no-brainer.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I don’t have to figure anything. You’re a passionate woman. I doubt you can go without sex for very long.”
“You’re wrong. I can go without sex for a very long time.”
“The reason you don’t have a bra on is because you love the way the material rubs against your nipples every time you move. Your body craves a man’s touch.”
Heat spiraled down her body. She crossed her legs and shoved the meat on her fork into her mouth. She chewed without thinking, then swallowed and stabbed another piece. He didn’t know what he was saying. He was guessing.
She shifted in her chair and the material of her shirt tightened across her chest for a brief second, but enough that a thrill ran down her body. Oh hell, he was right. She’d never realized what she was doing.
She slowed her chewing and actually tasted the meat for the first time. The flavors sent her senses into overdrive. She closed her eyes. Dillon was right about something else: she had never tasted anything cooked this well. She savored the bite before opening her eyes and looking at him. She was even passionate about food!
She raised her chin. “So what? I love sex, and I’m a master at the game. You can’t win.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her long enough she began to fidget. “You think not?”
A flicker of uncertainty trickled through her as some of her confidence slipped, but with determination drawn from depending on herself, she squared her shoulders and met his eyes without fear he would ever have power over her. She knew his game. “I’m sure.”
He suddenly leaned forward, startling her. “I wouldn’t be if I were you. Someday soon you’ll beg me to tie you up and do what
I please with you. And I will. The day will come when I have you bound. I’ll take my time stripping off your clothes layer by layer. You’ll be naked in front of me, squirming with anticipation. You’ll do anything I say.”
She drew in a sharp breath as tantalizing images materialized in her mind. It wasn’t as though she never thought about domination but when she did, she was always the dominant partner. But her body betrayed her when her nipples grew taut. She ached for release.
No! What was she thinking? She jumped to her feet. “I will never let anyone have that much control over me!”
“You will, and you’ll enjoy every minute.” He watched her, as though he waited for her to admit that she had entertained his idea, even briefly.
“Go! Leave my house!”
“What scares you the most?” he asked. “Giving up control or knowing how much the thought of being tied up turns you on?”
“Get out,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, then closed his eyes. She took a step back when he disappeared right in front of her. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. None of it was real. He wasn’t real. She only believed in what she could touch.
But she had touched him. She dropped back into the chair, massaging her temples as her head began to pound. “I’m not a control freak. I enjoy giving pleasure. Big difference.” Then in a louder voice, “So screw you.”
But why did heat spiral through her at the thought of Dillon taking complete control? The thought of having sex again? She reached forward and picked up her glass, downing the rest of the wine.
She stood and walked over to where he’d left the bottle. It was good wine, though. She poured a full glass, then set the bottle down. And good food. She tore off a piece of meat and shoved it into her mouth. Then another. And another.
Damn him! Damn him for putting thoughts in her head. She refused to be submissive to anyone.
When she was beyond feeling full and tipsy, she grabbed the bottle of wine and the flashlight and headed toward the front door. One last check of the animals and then she might watch a movie or something. Since she’d been forced to take a leave of absence, she had more time on her hands. A movie would be great. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d watched one.
She stopped long enough to take a long drink from the bottle.
The liquid slid smoothly down her throat and settled in her stomach, spreading warmth down her arms. There was a bit of a breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and it carried the slightest chill. So she took another drink, letting the wine warm her blood, then headed toward the barn. The beam of light bounced on the ground like a crazed kangaroo that had overdosed on drugs. That was enough to make anyone drunk, she thought. She stopped, steadied the light, and continued on her way. Better.
The barn was two stories and painted red. She’d chosen the color when she was ten. Very ingenious of her, she thought, although the paint faded over time. The dull red color gave the old building character.
Once she was standing inside the barn, she found the light switch and flipped it on. The stalls were finally clean and the sweet aroma of hay hung in the air. She refused to feel grateful to someone who had people telling angel jokes all over town at her expense. She sighed.
She drained the last of the wine from the bottle and tossed it in the barrel near the door. The bottle thumped against the bottom. A chicken squawked her anger, the horses whinnied their disapproval, and something scurried beneath the bags of feed stacked in the corner. She wouldn’t be investigating.
“Excuse me for wanting to make sure you’d been fed,” she mumbled.
The three stalls were clean and fresh hay was scattered about.
Dillon told the truth. The chores were done. She shrugged. He owed her for making her look crazy. Until her life was back in order, he would continue to owe her.
Since there was nothing to do, she started toward the door, but something sparkled, catching her eye. It didn’t move when she stepped closer so she wasn’t too worried it might be the beady eyes of some varmint. The object was partially covered, but it was black and looked like some sort of handle studded with diamonds.
Not that she thought they were real.
She squatted down and brushed the hay away. Her heart skipped a beat. The diamonds probably were real. Her fingers wrapped around the handle as she came to her feet. Knotted black velvet cords dangled from the end of the whip. Her thighs clenched as she imagined herself naked, Dillon wielding the whip across her bare buttocks, sending shivers of desire over her body.
“You’ve never known pleasure like I can give you,” he whispered close to her ear.
She didn’t move as he ran his hand down her arm and covered her fingers. If not for that, she would’ve dropped the whip. Instead, he moved her hand so the cords swung back and forth. Like a hypnotist with a watch, the cords were captivating.
She swallowed hard.
“It won’t happen. I’m not the submissive type,” she told him, but she couldn’t force her feet to move.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to bind your hands, then unbutton your shirt?” With his free hand, he unbuttoned the top button. Her breasts ached for his touch.
She sucked in a deep breath as he reached for the second button and tugged it through the hole. This was crazy! She had to tell him to stop. After the third one, he reached inside her shirt, running his hand across her abdomen.
She jumped, but the movement only put her in closer contact with him. His erection bumped her bottom. Her thighs clenched and it was all she could do to stifle her moan. She wanted him, but on her terms.
“No,” she said, lacking the conviction she wanted to convey.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “I want you to stop right—”
He tweaked her nipple, sending heat down her body. “— now.”
She leaned against him.
“Liar,” he whispered.
Yes, she was a liar, because what he was doing to her body felt right and good and she never wanted him to stop.
He cupped her breast, massaging and kneading before sliding his hand lower, tugging the belt until he could slide it out of the loops. Without the belt to hold her pants up, they slid down to her knees. Instead of dropping her belt, he moved one end across her stomach. His implication was clear.
Some sanity returned. “I will not be a submissive.”
“You can’t control everything.”
“But I can control my sex life.”
“Can you?” He dropped the belt, moving his hand down, tickling across the silky material of her panties.
A shiver swept over her. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted Dillon. Her body was on fire. She would have exactly what she wanted, too. She never lost. She toed off her sneakers and kicked out of her jeans. In one swift movement, she turned in his arms.
“Yes. I can control every bit of it.” She pressed her lips against his chest and was gratified to hear his sharp intake of air.
He leaned down and raised her chin. His lips covered hers.
She wasn’t quite sure when he gained control. One second her tongue gently caressed his, and then he was the one doing the teasing. They were his hands sliding inside her panties and pulling her tighter against his erection. She was the one breathing harder, pressing even closer. When the kiss ended, she was panting.
“Do you want me to bind your wrists? Will you give me the freedom to do anything I want?”
A few seconds passed before she realized what he asked. A cold chill passed over her. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You might as well give in. You will eventually.”
She squared her shoulders and took a step back. “No, I won’t.”
His gaze drifted over her. “It’s a shame to cause both of us this much pain.” He closed his eyes and disappeared.
For a moment she couldn’t say anything, then she exploded.
“Damn you!” The chicken fell off her nest and began to flap her wings and run around as though the barn was on fire. The horses whinnied and stomped the ground. And Raine discovered what had scurried behind the stacked bags of dry feed— a rat. She screamed and ran toward the house, not bothering to grab her clothes. She hated rats almost as much as she hated a certain nephilim!
Chapter 12
Dillon knew what he was doing. Knowing didn’t make him hurt any less. He wanted nothing more than to let Raine take control, to feel her naked body pressed against his, to make sweet love all nigh
t long. But that wouldn’t help her. She needed to learn that giving up control didn’t mean it would make her vulnerable.
He leaned back in the chair, raising the cup of coffee to his lips. For a moment, he closed his eyes and savored the strong flavor. There was something to be said about early morning, sitting on the porch watching the sun come up, casting hues of orange and yellow across the land.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Raine asked.
Dillon winced at the sharpness of her tone. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles as if she hadn’t slept well. She was dressed in her usual attire when she was at the ranch: baggy jeans and shirt, scuffed boots, and a stained hat. She still looked good to him. Maybe because he knew what was under the ugly clothes.
“I was enjoying the start of a new day and a cup of coffee.”
“That’s my coffee you’re drinking.”
“Technically, no. I used your coffeepot, but I brought my own coffee. Try it. I think you’ll like it.” She opened her mouth.
He held up a hand. “Go pour yourself a cup and join me. Then we’ll talk.” He turned his attention back to his cup. “That’s if you still want me to fix your life.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed, eyes narrowing. “You’re an ass,” she finally said and turned on her
heel. The screen door slammed behind her.
Dillon wondered if she would return. He didn’t relax until
the door opened again. She carried a cup of coffee, but didn’t
speak to him. She didn’t take the chair near him, either, but chose a rocker two spaces away. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she took a drink, then lightly pushed with the toe of one foot, setting the rocker into gentle motion. She brought the cup to her lips, blew across the top, then took a drink, closing her eyes for a moment.
She liked it. He knew she would. The coffee was strong but
not bitter and with just a pinch of cinnamon. He learned that
trick a long time ago. A pinch of spice or a bit of chocolate made a nice change.
“It’s okay,” she finally said, words stiff as her back.
He smiled because he knew the coffee was better than okay,
but he quickly made his expression bland when she looked his way.
