Falling Hard and Fast

by Kylie Brant

  Zoey was no longer able to pinpoint the focus of her pleasure. Sensations were careening and crashing inside her. The unyielding muscles at her back thrilled, the faint tremors that spoke of dark and desperate needs enticed. His hands could be heartbreakingly gentle, mind-shatteringly knowing. This was the man beneath the layer of lazy affability. This was a measure of the ferocity that lurked beneath the easy charm.

  She shivered, sensing danger even in the rising crest of passion. Need warred with doubt. Caution had served her well in the past. If she’d never before felt this level of emotion, neither had she worried about losing too much of herself in the process. As if he sensed her conflict, his touch slowed, became more languorous.

  It was a measure of trust that had brought her to him tonight. Cage realized that, even as he felt her try to shut herself away from him. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more than she’d given to anyone else, more than she’d ever before allowed herself to give. This first time, with him, he’d settle for nothing less than all of her.

  His teeth tested the rounded curve of her shoulder, and he was rewarded by a soft helpless sound she made in her throat. He explored her damp flesh with heated fingertips and felt the precise moment when she stiffened against him, surprise and pleasure drawing her up into a tight fist of need.

  His whisper sounded in her ear, harsh and low. The words were lost in the roar of her blood. She twisted against him, reaching for something just beyond her grasp. And when the explosion rocked her, leaving her soft and pliant, drifting slowly into sweetness, she thought of nothing but him.

  He lowered her to the blanket, caught her hands in his, laced their fingers. Then he pleasured them both by creating a moist path from her mouth to her throat, to her breasts where he lingered and savored, and then lower, his teeth nipping at her trembling stomach muscles, his tongue dancing in the indentation of her navel. Her breath caught; she twisted beneath him, sensing his intention, and perhaps even then, struggling against total submission. But when his tongue caressed her moist heat, her body once again betrayed her. It reveled in the hot intimacy, shuddered and strained beneath his teasing attentions.

  He waited for her body to grow lax and weightless. He fought off the pounding in his veins, the hot clench of need in his gut. He wasn’t ready to give in to the beast of his own carnality yet. There was more he wanted from Zoey. Much, much more. He released her hands, cupped her hips and devoured her.

  Her breath strangled in her throat. He’d flung her effortlessly from contentment back into sensation. Her hands slid to his damp shoulders, clenched there. Her body softened, welcomed him. Wave after wave of pleasure battered her, one after another. Gone were the long fluid touches, the slow languid gentleness. In its place was a ruthlessness that was as arousing as it was unanticipated.

  Greed took over—an urgent race born of hot sultry nights and need too long denied. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips lifted to his mouth—until it wasn’t enough; until he wasn’t close enough, deep enough, fast enough. She pulled at his shoulders frantically, and he raised his head from her and slid up her body, his muscles tense with tightly leashed passion, his skin damp with a sheen of perspiration.

  He entered her with a long velvet stroke that had the breath shuddering out of her, and a mist fogging his brain. When he braced himself above her, he could feel his muscles quivering with restraint. He was desperate to see her face, to watch the flickers of unexpected pleasure chase across it before the culmination rocked her.

  In the darkness he could see her eyes open, dazed and huge, to fix on his face. And in that moment he was desperately certain that what they shared here, right now, was a first. For both of them.

  His hips lunged against hers and with each frantic movement the culmination shimmered just a bit closer. He felt her climax beneath him, swallowed her helpless cry. Her satin sheath was clenching and releasing around him, milking his own response. He fought the ending. It was too soon, too good, too much. But it wouldn’t be put off any longer. With his gaze still locked on her face, the sensations slammed into him, and he surged violently against her one last time before following her in a dizzying freefall into pleasure.

  When she found the strength to move, she raised her hand, stroked his damp hair. In response he pressed a moist kiss to the curve of her breast and shifted their positions. Now she was sprawled on top of him, her head pillowed in the hollow below his shoulder. He made a contented sound that rumbled in his chest, and swept his fingers up her spine and down again.

  “The rain’s letting up,” she whispered. For the first time she realized why he’d chosen this spot to make love. The storm inside had reflected the one that raged without. The cocoon of intimacy that enveloped them had kept them safe from the ravages of the weather, engaged in their own tempest.

  He didn’t bother to glance outside. “A little. But it won’t be done until morning.” He tipped up her chin and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. “If you’re thinking of going somewhere, forget it.”

  She shook her head, stretched her leg along his. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

  He seized her words and interpreted them to suit himself. She didn’t want to leave. A knot he hadn’t known existed loosened within his chest. To lighten the feeling he said, “That’s good. I’m known around these parts as a dangerous man to cross.”

  She smiled against his skin. “I can see why. I saw the awards in the den when I was picking out a book.” She felt him grow tense beneath her and wondered at the cause. “I didn’t know you were a sharpshooter.”

  He was silent for a moment, but when she didn’t refer to any but the parish-fair awards, the tension eased from his limbs, one degree at a time. “You could say I followed in the Gauthier tradition. My daddy was a hunter, used to take me and Tanner out in the woods with him for whatever was in season. I never did get the taste for it. He and Tanner did some trapping and hunting. I preferred to practice on targets.”

  It was a talent that had proved useful in his line of work. Unbidden, one of many scenes from Hogan’s Alley flitted across his mind. The heavy ear guards to protect hearing, the outline of a man fifty feet away. Examining the target after he’d fired a round, satisfaction filling him as he realized he was still one of the steadiest hands in the NOPD. He never recalled wondering, back then, if the time would come when he’d doubt the ability he’d taken for granted for so long.

  Her voice sounded in the darkness again. “I suppose the competition is pretty fierce at the annual parish fair.”

  His smile came naturally, and he let his hand slide to cup her bottom. “It has its moments. If you talk real nice to me I’ll let you tag along and bask in my reflected glory this year. The fair is next month, to be held outside of Trumbel Falls.”

  She was familiar with the name of the nearby town, but had never been there. “You sound confident that you’ll win.”

  He lazily drew a finger down her arm, was pleased when she shivered. “You might say I’m justifiably certain. The chief of police won it for eight straight years until I entered. I’m afraid that’s one more thing he holds against me.”

  There was a suspect note of marvel in her voice. “Imagine someone not liking you.”

  “It is hard to believe,” he agreed, investigating the hollows below her shoulder blades, “but there’s no accounting for taste.” He leaned forward and nipped her mouth gently. “As it happens, I’ve acquired a taste for you.” His lips stayed to linger, her flavor still on his tongue. It was startling to feel this outrageous hunger for her when it had so recently been satiated; frightening to experience this slow burn in his belly that only she could extinguish. He reversed their positions again while their mouths mated, slid his hand up to shape her breast.

  “You’re in my system, Zoey.” His words were like silk, sliding through the velvet of the night. “There’s no getting over it. I’ve passed the time when I’d want to.”

  How was it possible for such simple words to strike
both gladness and terror in her heart? She could feel her pulse skitter, even as she formed her answer carefully. “I think… Let’s just concentrate on now. Can we?”

  Because he recognized the layer of panic in her plea he brushed his lips soothingly over her brow, her cheek, her eyes. He dodged the blade of disappointment that stabbed deep and instead focused on discovering all the secret places that held her scent—behind her ear, the pulse below her jaw, between her breasts.

  Patience, he’d been told, was one of his virtues. As passion stirred between them again, he was very much aware that convincing this woman was going to take every ounce of patience he could muster.

  “Last one out of bed has to make breakfast.”

  With her usual morning-disposition gauge set at “surly,” Zoey kept her eyes tightly closed and kicked in the direction of that cheerful voice. For her efforts she received a yank of the covers and a light swat on the rear. She rose in one movement, ready to swing, and saw Cage, wearing nothing but boxers and a smile, holding a cup of steaming coffee.

  Only partially mollified, she took the cup he held out, shoved her hair out of her face, and observed, “If you haven’t been told this before, it’s only because people were trying to spare your feelings. But it’s a well-known fact that everyone hates a morning person.”

  His smile only widened. “If it weren’t for the morning people, who’d make the coffee?”

  She tucked the comforter around her breasts, closed her eyes and sipped. Heaven. She was unaware of the sound of contentment she made. It was several moments before she reopened her eyes, feeling slightly more human.

  “Did you mention breakfast?”

  “Only that it was your turn to cook it.”

  “But I made supper last night.”

  “I helped.”

  Her lips moved suspiciously close to a pout. “But I’m your guest.”

  “You are that,” he agreed affably, leaning forward to kiss the taste of coffee from her lips. “And if I may say so, you’re a lot better behaved than our guest downstairs.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to register, then her eyes went wide. “Oxy! Omigosh, he needs to be let out right away in the morning or else he—”

  “He did.”

  She winced. “Tell me it wasn’t on the rug.”

  “I can’t tell a lie on the Sabbath.”

  “You’re right.” Guilt sank sharp fangs into her chest. She pushed the coffee cup back into his hand. “I owe you breakfast.” Arranging the comforter around her, she started to rise, only to find it impossible to move. She turned to see him with both feet firmly planted on one edge of the material, a cocky grin on his face.

  “Where’d you say you were going?”

  She looked pointedly at his feet, and then at him. “I was going to shower and then cook your meal—an offer I’m rapidly reconsidering.”

  “I can help.”

  “Good. Go get the pans ready.”

  “I meant with the shower.” He picked up a fistful of quilt and slowly, inexorably, pulled more of the fabric toward him. Just as determinedly, she held on to her end.

  “I believe I have enough proficiency in that area to handle things on my own.”

  He gave a mighty yank and pulled her closer. “But you don’t know how to work the hot water.”

  Backing away from him wasn’t the wisest course of action. She stumbled over the excess length of the comforter. “Something tells me I’m in hot water right now.”

  With one jerk he had her lying across his lap, and was laughing down at her. “Very hot water, indeed.”

  His lips were still curved when they met hers and her heart simply turned over. She’d never shared this with a man before, never engaged in this fun-loving sparring for fun’s sake. If she wasn’t careful, Cage would be much too easy to fall for. But she was, she reminded herself as she returned the increasing urgency of his kiss, a very cautious person.

  He had her in his arms and was following her down onto his bed when the doorbell sounded. Sighing, he rested his brow against hers. The doorbell pealed again.

  “Maybe if we ignore it they’ll go away.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they said about gangsta rap.” He let out a breath and loosened her hands from around his neck, pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. He crossed to a dresser against the wall that looked to be more than a century old, took out a pair of jeans and drew them on.

  “I’m coming,” he mumbled as he headed down the stairs and the bell rang again. “But not the way I’d like to be.” He pulled open the door to see one of his deputies standing there.

  “DuPrey,” he said flatly. “This had better be good.”

  The man’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I sure am sorry about the interruption, Sheriff. I tried to call but there’s a lot of phone lines out because of the storm last night. I’ve already checked with the phone company. They’ll have trucks out shortly.”

  Cage propped one hand against the doorjamb and eyed the man with dwindling patience. “And you need to talk to me because…”

  “Oh. Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Chief Deputy Fisher said I should let you know. Doc Barnes had Stacy Rutherford transported by ambulance to St. John’s in Baton Rouge last night. She’s in pretty bad shape. Says Donny Ray tried to kill her.”

  The doctor came out of the patient’s room and looked at the man leaning against the opposite wall. “You can talk to her, Sheriff, but she shouldn’t get too agitated. And she’s going to be difficult to understand.” Cage nodded, stood, and forced himself to enter the room.

  “Hey, Stacy.”

  She turned her head toward him and he swallowed hard. One of her eyes was swollen closed and her nose had obviously been broken. Her bottom lip was puffy and twice its normal size. “Sheriff.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, reaching out to gently clasp the hand that wasn’t in a cast. “I know this is hard for you. I want you to take all the time you need. I’m not going to let him hurt you again, Stacy, but you’re going to have to help me. You know it’s past time.”

  “You want…a…statement.” The words had to be pronounced carefully, but they were intelligible.

  He consulted the form in the folder he was holding. “Doc Barnes said he found you collapsed in front of the clinic last night.”

  “I…ran.” Her good eye closed for a moment. “I never seen Donny like that before…so full of mean and hate. I knew he was gonna kill me. He swore he would.”

  Cage’s nerves tightened, but he kept his touch gentle. “Was he drinking again?”

  She gave a slight nod of her head. “Some. He came in from the barn…had this queer look in his eye.” She stopped and looked toward the table. Cage got up and poured her a glass of ice water, guided the straw to her bruised lips. When she finished she lay back again against the pillow, as if the single act had exhausted her. When she began speaking again her voice was eerily lifeless. “Donny Ray…asked if there wasn’t something I should tell him. I said I didn’t know what he meant. Then I saw the bag in his hand.”

  Cage felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “What was in the bag?”

  “The extra money you give me. And them little cards. I was thinking…I didn’t want to have to go to one of them places where I don’t know no one. I was gonna save up some, and if things got too bad I could run off. Somewhere Donny couldn’t find me.”

  Tears squeezed from under the swollen eyelid and trailed down her face. Cage didn’t think he’d ever seen a sight so heart-wrenching. “How did Donny Ray break your ribs?”

  “Caught me by the woodpile. Staved them in with a big piece of kindling. I tried to fight back.” She gestured to her cast. “He caught me in the arm.”

  “Stacy.” Cage took her hand in both of his and waited for her to look at him. “Will you testify against him?” He could see the indecision on her face and bit back a curse. “He won’t get near you again.”

  “Wouldn�
��t have to be him,” she whispered hoarsely. “You know how them brothers of his are. Any one of them would do me in if I made trouble for Donny Ray.”

  “I’ll guarantee your safety,” Cage promised grimly. “A guard will be posted outside your door for as long as you’re here. When you’re ready to be released we’ll find a safe place for you until the trial.”

  “And then I could get far away?”

  He nodded. He’d make sure the woman got clear across the country, even if he paid her way himself. “As far as you want.”

  A deep breath shuddered out of her. “Probably won’t be a trial, anyhow.” Her hand trembled convulsively in his. “If Donny Ray knows you’re looking for him he’ll hightail it to the woods. Won’t no one ever find him there.”

  The full moon hung heavy in the sky. Zoey held Oxy on her lap, rocking slowly back and forth in the glider. When the car pulled silently into her driveway her heart gave a little leap. As Cage walked toward her, she could tell by the way he carried himself just how long the day had been.

  She put the puppy down and reached for the pitcher of lemonade she’d brought out with her, poured some in a glass and handed it to him as he dropped down beside her. He drank it in one long swallow. She poured him another and he curled his arm around her shoulders, urging her to his side. It didn’t take much to keep her there. She’d worried about him all day. There had been grim purpose in his eyes when he’d left the house that day. That and a sort of horrible knowing. She no longer questioned this need she had to offer him comfort, and she refused to question the quiet satisfaction she felt at knowing he’d come to her for just that.

  “Suppose you heard most of what went on last night.” He sipped from the glass and let the tensions of the day seep out of him, a fraction at a time.