“I never really had the time when I was younger.” She wasn’t sure why she kept talking, except that it felt good to hear his voice for once instead of simply feeling him. In the thoughts whispering through her head and the lust blazing through her body.
He knew so much about her and she knew almost nothing about him. Suddenly, she wanted to know more, to hear it out loud.
And talking was better than kissing.
Safer.
“When I was growing up, we moved around a lot,” she went on. “My mom died when I was only nine and my dad worked for a big factory that had several different locations in North America. He worked in the finance department, so he was always going from location to location, trying to streamline the budgets and keep all of the plants running as efficiently as possible. I took care of my younger sister and him, so there wasn’t time for swim lessons. But I did learn a few years ago.” The first year she’d been free of Phil. “I visited a resort that offered swimming and diving instruction. I can hold my breath for just under two minutes.”
“Not bad.”
“What about you?”
He slid her a sideways glance, a grin hinting at his lips. “I can hold my breath a lot longer. Mainly because I don’t actually breathe anymore.”
“That’s not what I meant. Can you swim?”
He nodded. “But I learned by necessity, not at some fancy resort. Water was a good way to mask a scent and throw off a posse.”
“So you learned back when you were running from the law?”
“Actually, I learned when I was the law. I led more than one posse on a manhunt. Inevitably, we’d end up at a river or a lake and I had to keep tracking. Or at least try to. That usually involved getting in the water. Sometimes it was deep and so I had to be able to handle myself.”
“You were a sheriff, right?”
He nodded. “For a little town just sixty miles east of here called Dupree. I was born and raised nearby on a small farm.” He plucked a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. “Actually, it was a big farm. That’s why my father became a target for this local landowner who wanted to expand his spread. He wanted our property. My father wouldn’t sell for the small amount he offered, so the man took it out from under him by force. I tried to get it back, and that’s when I lost my badge and earned this.” He held up his hand. Moonlight spilled down around them and illuminated the “T” branded into his palm. “It stands for ‘thief’. Talk about irony.” He shook his head. “They burned this into me while the entire town just stood there and watched, my father included.”
She didn’t miss the bitterness in his words, but there was something else, as well. A sadness that reached down deep and tugged at her because she knew what it was like to have a parent who refused to stand up for their child.
She knew what it was like to face the world alone.
And she knew how much it sucked.
“The only thing my dad cared about was crawling into a bottle when he made it home from work,” she murmured. “He missed my mother and he just couldn’t cope, so Jim Beam became his best friend and I ended up taking care of my sister.”
“My father didn’t bat an eye when my mother passed away. She had a heart attack during her second pregnancy. She and the baby both died. My dad took an hour off to dig a hole, dump them in, and then he headed back out to the field,” he said.
“That’s terrible.”
“That was my old man.” He shrugged. “He took whatever life dealt, and just kept going as if nothing had happened.”
“At least he was resilient.”
“He was a coward. He could have taken my mother to town and tried to get help, but he didn’t. He was too afraid that she would die anyway and he would feel guilty. Hell, that he would have to feel anything. He figured that if he did nothing, he could say it was fate or God’s will or whatever, and wash his hands of any responsibility.”
Boone grew quiet for a few moments and she had the sudden urge to turn and slide her arms around his neck. She knew what it was like to have a father who couldn’t deal with his own feelings. A man who’d drunk himself to death and, in doing so, abandoned his two daughters rather than deal with the grief of losing his wife.
“What happened to your father after that?” she asked instead.
“He watched me die on the gallows that day, or so he thought. I saw him once after that. He’d lost the farm and had moved to a nearby town. He was living out back of the local church and helping with its upkeep. I was riding through with the rest of the Ten. He was so busy working on the new steeple that he didn’t even recognize me. Stared right past me and just kept hammering. Nail after nail after nail.”
She could feel the tension in his body and the need to distract him finally got the best of her.
That and she knew she couldn’t sit there a moment more without reaching out to him. Touching and kissing and no.
She needed to calm down. Cool down. And so she did the only thing she could think of.
“So you know how to swim, huh?” He nodded and she bolted to her feet. “Then prove it.” In that next instant, she yanked off her clothes until she wore nothing but her bra and panties. “Last one in is a rotten egg.” She backed up, launched herself forward, and went sailing over the side of the cliff.
The cool liquid sucked her under for several frantic heartbeats before she managed to push her way to the surface.
She came up sputtering just in time to see a very naked Boone nosedive off the cliff after her. The water sloshed and rippled when he hit, and a few moments later, he surfaced next to her.
“Not bad.” She smiled at him through watery eyes.
“Thanks. You’re not so shabby yourself.” His gaze dropped to the water that lapped at her chest, just above her breasts barely contained beneath the lacy bra.
“I meant your technique, not your body.” She cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Even though your body isn’t so bad either.” She swallowed. “Not that I really saw anything. You moved so fast.” Why was she still talking?
Because talking meant that her lips were busy doing something other than pressing against his.
She could feel the heat rolling off his muscular body, see the frantic beat of his pulse at the base of his neck, smell the rich, musky aroma of hot, aroused male, and she started to rethink her whole cooling off strategy.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she blurted.
“Damn straight it wasn’t.” His expression grew tight and she knew he was doing his damndest to ignore the chemistry between them, to keep from touching her the way she tried to keep from touching him.
Because he didn’t want her.
That’s what her insecurity said, but far louder was the whisper of Boone’s voice so clear and distinct through her head.
I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
His eyes blazed with a hunger so bright and intense, she had no doubt about his desire. But where she lacked the courage to act on it, he had more than enough for the both of them.
“That’s why this is such a bad idea,” he added, his voice a mere growl. And then his lips touched hers anyway and he took her breath away with a deep, demanding kiss.
Chapter Fourteen
BOONE PULLED her flush against his body as they hung suspended in the sparkling depths of the water. His hands roamed over her body, memorizing every inch with an urgency fueled by the knowledge that his time with her was limited.
The dip at the base of her spine, the soft hollow just beneath her rib cage, the roundness of her ass beneath the scanty lace of her underwear, the smooth, sensitive inside of each thigh—every part of her made his gut twist with hunger.
He drew her closer, pulling her legs around him and locking her ankles at the small of his back. Then he settled her firm
ly against his rock-hard cock which pressed insistently against the lace barrier that separated them.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as he rocked her. He rubbed his hard length against her barely contained slit until she whimpered and clutched at his shoulders.
She was so close to coming, to falling apart right there in his arms.
Too close.
He heard the truth whisper through her, jolting her back to reality, and she stiffened. Her hands went slack.
“This really isn’t a good idea,” she finally croaked when she managed to find her voice. She caught her bottom lip and stared up at him, her eyes so big and wide. Fear swam in the dark depths, but there was something else, as well. A sense of desperation that told him if he pressed, she wouldn’t be able to resist.
All he had to do was take the choice out of her hands, rip her panties away, and plunge deep.
But if he did that, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop.
He wanted her too much. Her body. Her blood.
Her heart.
The thought struck and he shook it away. This wasn’t about emotion. It was physical. Primal.
Dangerous.
“We need to get out of here.” He lifted her, focusing his thoughts and willing them to move up and out of the water.
She squealed, grasping at him as he brought them the twenty or so feet to the ridge. When they stood safely on the ground, he loosened his grip on her and she slid to her feet, water drip-dropping from her voluptuous body.
She stood there, wet and wanting, and eyed him for a long moment. He knew she waited for him to step forward, to close the distance and pick up where they’d left off. She’d taken his retreat as temporary, until they reached the soft grass.
“I should get you back,” he said, his voice gruff as he turned to snatch up her dry clothes. He tossed them to her and ignored the look of shock that lit her gaze. It was followed by a flash of hurt because of his sudden rejection.
But he wasn’t rejecting her. He was saving her. Didn’t she get that?
“Get dressed,” he added, and then he turned to retrieve his own things.
A few minutes later, they were racing hell-for-leather back to the cave.
HE DIDN’T REALLY want her.
The truth vibrated through Riley as she stood in the cave and watched him disappear without so much as a goodbye.
And that was bad because?
It wasn’t. It was good. Fan-freaking-tastic. Especially since she’d been this close to letting him do anything and everything he wanted to her. Thankfully, he’d smartened up and put on the brakes, saving her from herself.
That’s what she vowed to remember throughout the night as she tried to forget her shameful behavior when he’d kissed her, and how much she’d liked it.
How much she liked him.
She did, even if he was holding her captive.
Because of it.
As much as she balked and fought him, she knew he was doing it for her safety. She felt it in the tender touch of his hands, and she saw it in the sincere gleam of his gaze. If those weren’t proof enough, the stack of supplies he’d brought sat as testimony to just how hard he was trying to make things easier on her. And then when he’d sensed that she was about to lose her friggin’ mind, he’d taken her to the river so that she could breathe.
Phil would never have done such a thing. He’d cut her off from everything, including the basics. He hadn’t cared that she was starving to death or that she was thirsty.
He’d cared only about his own fear of being alone.
She’d convinced herself that controlling men were all the same, but Boone was different. He was more than just an alpha male. He had a conscience, and she couldn’t help but admire him for it.
She liked him, all right.
Not that it mattered. He certainly didn’t return the sentiment. He’d made that perfectly clear when he’d put on the brakes and dumped her back here.
He didn’t want to have sex with her again.
Nor did he want anything else to do with her. Sure, they’d talked down by the river, but he’d been completely silent on the way back. Tense. Impatient.
No goodbye. See ya later. Take care.
Nothing. Just a flash of black as he’d pulled the boulder back into place and left her to her own thoughts.
No, he sure as hell didn’t like her. He obviously didn’t feel anything for her.
If only that notion didn’t suddenly bother her even more than her forced captivity.
SHE WAS THINKING about him.
Fantasizing.
Wanting.
The truth peeled back the edges of sleep and slithered down under the covers with Boone. Desire as deep and hot as the “T” that they’d branded on his thumb burned into him as he found himself pulled into her fantasy.
They were standing in the same dusty alley where he’d rescued her from the rogue vampire. Boone peeled off his clothes and she peeled off hers, both of them oblivious to the guests walking up and down the sidewalk out front. That was half the fun. The spurt of excitement when they heard the whinny of a horse. The fear of discovery. The thrill.
His cock throbbed and he touched himself, stroking his length and mimicking the movement of her hand. He kissed her with all the desperation building in his body before she pulled away and slid down between his legs. Her mouth closed over the head of his erection. She licked, swirling her tongue and driving him crazy before sucking him deep into her mouth.
His fingers tightened in her silky hair, holding her close as he bucked his hips and urged himself deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. She sucked. The back of her throat rasped the head of his penis. His fingers grew taut. His body went stiff and he exploded—
Boone’s eyes snapped open just as his cock spurted with release. His hands clenched the sheets. His body trembled.
He glanced at the digital alarm clock sitting on the scarred nightstand. It was barely noon. The truth registered, and disbelief rushed through him. He didn’t wake up in the middle of the day. And he certainly didn’t have wet dreams. He was a vampire, for Christ’s sake. When he slept, he slept. There was no tossing and turning and dreaming. And he sure as hell did not jack off.
Then again, after last night, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d been so worked up. So close to losing it.
He threw off the sheet and wiped at his gritty eyes before heading for the small wash bowl that sat nearby. Pouring a stream of cool water into the bowl, he cleaned himself up and sat back down on the edge of the bed. A bright yellow glow outlined the edge of the blinds and made a crisscross pattern across the hardwood floor. He spared a glance at the door. The deadbolt was turned, still locked tight. A chair was wedged under the door just in case the Do Not Disturb sign wasn’t enough to keep out the cleaning staff or nosey guests.
If the chair budged, then the racket would wake Boone.
It wasn’t the most high-tech set-up, not even close to the security he’d had installed at his place back in Austin, but it would have to do whenever he was in Tombstone.
Unless he decided to remodel the house outside of town and have a few precautions installed. Just for whenever he ventured back to Tombstone.
The possibility flashed in his head, but he shook it away. First it was the house. Then he’d be worrying about the land. Before he knew it, he’d be stuck here, running cattle or working crops or something.
It wasn’t happening.
He clung tight to the notion and tried to ignore the thoughts rushing inside of him.
Riley’s thoughts. She was confused about last night. Angry. Horny.
Even after his rejection.
She told herself that it was only because he was a vampire that he had so much sex appeal. That w
as why she still wanted him. It certainly wasn’t because she was starting to like him.
She fought the truth just as he fought the damned connection to her.
He focused on the sounds drifting from downstairs. The chatter of voices from the hotel dining room. The clink of pots and pans from the kitchen. The groan of mattresses as the couple in the room beside him participated in a little afternoon delight in between lunch and horseback riding.
As the outside world slipped into his head, Boone managed to ignore the constant buzz of her emotions. For a little while.
He thought about Ike and why the vampire was taking so long to make another move. He’d sent the loud and clear message I’m here, but he’d yet to make another appearance. Instead, he’d left them all on edge. Worried. Tired.
All the more reason Boone needed to close his eyes and rest.
Fat chance with Riley living and breathing in his head, under his skin.
His mind drifted and he found himself thinking about their first night together. How warm she’d felt. How wet. How eager. She’d been that way from the very beginning with no influence from him. One glance, and she’d wanted him of her own accord.
And she’d feared him at the same time.
She still feared him.
Rightly so.
He sprawled on his back and stared at the ceiling. His body throbbed and his cock bobbed again, not the least bit satisfied despite the eruption only moments ago. The head pushed against the crisp cotton sheet. A quick brush of his fingertips on the hard shaft, and renewed desire bolted through him. His stomach hollowed out. His fangs tingled.
He needed her body. Her blood. Her strength.
Nothing more. Not her smile. Or her understanding. Or her company.
She was no different from any other woman with her fairytale dreams. No matter how much she protested otherwise, she still wanted to find the right man, to settle down and have babies and her very own happily ever after.
The Quick and the Undead: Volume 1 (Tombstone, Texas) Page 15
