by Debra Kayn
She opened the door and retrieved her bags out of the trunk. Anders had asked her to walk up the stairs to the back entrance to his private quarters in the phone call. During her previous stay, she hadn't even realized he could come and go from the outside. She thought he always left through the bar and she was glad that she had privacy.
It was nobody's business that she was staying with Anders.
Taking her guitar out, she slung the strap over her shoulder, resituated her bags in her arms, and walked up the stairs.
For the first time since she became a legal adult, she was going out on her own. No band, no one to fall back on, and the risk of failure increased.
She could fail at singing and carrying the show.
She could fail with Anders.
She barely knew him. What carried her forward was her attraction to him. His confidence and the security he provided appealed to her. She inhaled, filling up her diagram, and blew out a stream of air to calm her nerves. Anders was hot, and the fact he remained a mystery intrigued her.
While other women her age could see Anders' age as a drawback because he'd already settled in his life, his age drew her to him. The solid shoulder he'd provided her and the self-assurance in everything he'd gained at the Lair turned her on.
She climbed the last few steps, set down one of her bags, and knocked. As soon as she'd set her car in the direction of Stone Lair, warmth had flooded her chest making her giddy, and her confidence over doing the right thing for her rose higher and higher.
He had a way of making her believe she possessed everything he needed.
Anxious to see him, she knocked again. When a minute went by without him answering the door, she debated going down the steps and entering through the main entrance. Maybe she should've called with the time of her arrival. He could be downstairs working or tied up with the employees.
The drive had taken her an hour longer because her dad had arrived late to see her off.
She juggled her bag and reached into her pocket for her phone, and the door opened.
Anders stood in front of her in a pair of jeans, barefooted, bare-chested, and toweling his wet hair. His upper body expanded seeing her, and she dropped her bags, letting the guitar case slip from her shoulder and land on the pile of luggage at her feet.
He made no move toward her. She ogled the soft mat of hair on his chest that dwindled to a thin dark line that went down the center of his abdomen and disappeared under the waist of his jeans.
She raised her gaze and met his heated look. All those days of thinking about him while she'd been gone came back in a rush. Remembering the ways he'd looked at her, spoke to her, and touched her pulled her headfirst toward him, and she almost tripped over her belongings.
He dropped the towel and cupped her neck, dragging her across the remaining inches that separated them. She tilted her face, meeting his lips.
Anders swallowed her moan. But, he was unable to stop the trembling in her body.
The tension of always having him on her mind, dreaming of what it would be like to be in his arms and step into his world, wound her up in excitement. She snaked her hands up his chest and around his neck.
Anders bit back a groan as she parted her lips. His fingers tightened around her nape, holding her fiercely in front of him.
His greedy, impatient pressure inflamed her. She swiped her tongue into the warmth of his mouth.
He pulled back, set her inside, grabbed her bags, her guitar, dumping them in the room, and shut the door. Before she could say hello, he wrapped his arm tightly around her, pressing her back against the cold steel of the door.
She gasped as his hands tilted her face, bending, molding, positioning her head back, kissing her deeper, thoroughly.
Barely having her feet under her, she let go of doubting if he still wanted her, and let him consume her.
He was everywhere. Holding her, pressing against her, in her.
She held on to his body. The warmth of his bare skin heated her palms.
He kissed her harder, faster, wilder. Her lower stomach sang. She stroked his tongue with hers, dancing her lips against his.
Pressed between the door and him, she couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
She pushed against him.
He came away lost, searching her gaze for answers. Lightheaded, she panted. She could count on one hand how many men she'd had sex with.
His heavily lidded eyes narrowed. "I want you."
She placed her hand on his chest, feeling how much his heart raced, and understood he was as caught up in what they were doing as her. "I want you too, but—"
"Tell me." He cupped her face. "I'll make things right for you."
She melted. Without him telling her, she knew. Something about him assured her that he would never purposely hurt her.
"Condom?" she whispered, her lips tingling in anticipation.
His gaze softened. "I'll use a condom."
That sweet but rough admittance got her. A moan hovered at the base of her neck.
He held a lifetime of experience in his dark, chocolate eyes that she wanted to learn about. She'd never been so attracted to another person in her life.
She barely nodded her consent, and he took ownership of her mouth again. The taste of desperation intoxicated her senses. The musky scent left on him after his shower drugged her.
Pressing against him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned as he deepened the kiss.
He picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him, happy to have him between her thighs.
Her back arched and his hands went to her ass as he carried her deeper into his living space and laid her down. The plush softness of the bear rug underneath her body pleased her, and she knew he'd only taken her across the room.
He pulled back, removed his wallet, and tossed a condom on the rug beside her. She needed to feel his skin against her, every little inch.
Anders' fingers slid under her shirt. She lifted her arms above her head, and let him remove her top from her trembling body. As he worked on her jeans, she undid the front clasp of her bra and wiggled out of the material by the time her pants skimmed her hips, and he stripped her naked.
She shivered as he stood and removed his jeans, leaving him gloriously naked. Every major decision she'd painstakingly dealt with over the last month disappeared.
Anders was a tower of heat and hardness. His cock stood out from his body, proud and beautiful below a soft mat of dark hair. Her fingers curled wanting to touch him and explore.
He was a beautifully rugged man. His height, his power, his face, and his eyes. The intensity that radiated off him spoke to her as if a voice of authority dictated that she belonged to him.
His muscles rippled as he lowered himself down on the bear skin rug. She braced herself knowing she'd cry out for him if she couldn't feel him against her soon.
He settled between her legs, rolled the condom on his cock, and lowered his upper body down, kissing the peak of her breast, rubbing his lips against her nipple. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her arms at the roughness of his whiskers.
"Anders," she whispered, cupping his face and lifting him off her breast.
She had no idea what she needed or asked for. She only needed to say his name.
Anders. Anders. Anders.
Holding his gaze, she reached between them and slowly wrapped her fingers around his cock.
He sucked in air between his teeth, his jaw tensing.
She arched and positioned him at her entrance. The unexplainable urge to come together before talking, before teasing, before seducing took over. She needed to be one with him. Everything else would come later. And, everything would.
Her fantasies about him weren't imagined. There was something touchable only known to them, hovering in the room whenever they were together.
His eyelids lowered. She hooked her legs around his hips and removed her hand. For how much she wanted him, craved him, she needed him
to control the rest.
He pushed inside of her, one incredible inch at a time. She quaked underneath him.
"Jesus," he said harshly. "What are you doing to me?"
She slid her fingers into his hair, looping them tight. There were no words, no songs, no lyrics to describe the all-consuming need to be with him.
He pumped his hips. She moaned. As if strings marionetted her body, controlled by Anders, she rhythmically moved in time with his body.
Anders captured her mouth, sharing his pleasure. She tightened all around him. Her spine shivered with a warning as her orgasm grew more energy. Lost in the euphoric sensation of his tongue caressing, his dick stroking, his body rubbing, she greedily held on, afraid of losing everything he gave her.
His soft grunts filled her ears. Her shoulders lifted off the bear skin rug as her body quaked.
Soothing her with his tongue while his cock wildly determined the speed, he created tremors throughout her that became spasms. She came, clinging to him, refusing to let what they'd created end.
"Iliana," he said breathlessly against her lips before burying his head in the nook of her neck.
His guttural groan of pleasure sung in her ear.
There was something vulnerable about holding him as he shuddered. She held him tightly when he rolled her to the side, refusing to let him slip out of her body.
Not yet.
She wasn't ready to be separated from him.
Chapter 8
Soft singing came from the bathroom. Anders stood in the hallway as if he'd spent his whole life wondering what existed on the other side of the door. Iliana's voice permeated the walls he'd built around himself and left him floundering.
He hurt.
After Iliana arrived and they'd had sex, the pain over the idea of losing her kept him from leaving the upstairs. He'd taken her to his bedroom, and under the mask of darkness, had held her all night.
She'd slept like a baby, unaware of the turmoil that left him unable to leave the bed.
"...every little piece of him," she sang.
His chest tightened. The husky melody rolled through him, grabbing him by the balls.
He had no experience at love. Having grown up in boys' homes controlled by the state, kidnapped and transferred to a foreign country, and used as fresh meat for a dog fighting ring, he had no knowledge of the real world or how he was supposed to fit in, he had no examples to show him how to have a healthy relationship.
The women who'd come to Stone Lair looking for a good time never pushed him into thinking about a relationship past having sex.
Iliana would be staying with him for a while. No date of her leaving and no expectations were put on the table. He only wanted to spend more time with her.
The door opened. Iliana spotted him, stopped singing, and smiled. All her reactions happened naturally as one emotion. An emotion about how she felt around him.
She leaned toward him, puckering her lips. He kissed her.
It wasn't a sexual kiss, though if she would've stayed in front of him, he would've taken it there. No, the kiss was almost like saying hello or connecting with him—which he'd never had before.
"Are you going down to work?" She carried her bag into the bedroom and hid it beside his dresser.
"For a few hours." He leaned against the door frame. Unused to hosting a guest that wasn't a customer, he said, "The place is yours to use. If you want to eat or gamble..."
"You don't have a television upstairs, do you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I never watch, so never had much use for one up here."
"Really? Not even to see what is happening on the news?"
"Not interested in how other people live their life or what's going on. There are enough bad things happening around the world, I don't need it plumbed into where I live," he said.
Her eyes lit up, and she scrunched her nose as if he amused her. "I'm going to practice while you're gone."
"You need to sing?"
"Without the band, I'm going to play the guitar while I sing." She wrinkled her mouth. "It takes practice. I wouldn't want to make a mistake or have to pull myself out of feeling the lyrics because I'm concentrating on what chords to pluck."
"Ah..." He stepped into the hallway. "I'll see you later then."
"Okay." She gave him a little wave.
Feeling like he forgot something, he stepped back into the room and kissed her. "Call Mac or me if you need something."
She hummed in pleasure and kissed him again. "I'll be fine."
Right. She'd be fine.
He turned and walked out of the room, taking himself down to the main floor.
Mac met him before he could talk with any of his employees. He motioned his chin toward the entryway between the casino and the bar where they could talk over the soundtrack playing.
"We had one of the cooks quit." Mac held out his phone, reading from the screen. "I've called in three of the applicants who applied last time we were hiring. Their interviews are set up for in the morning."
"Call Sam and see if he'll pick up the extra shifts," said Anders. "Anything else?"
There were always employees not showing up for work or quitting without giving a two-week notice in service jobs. Those employees who stuck around and became loyal to Stone Lair often filled the positions that came up until new hires could sign on to the schedule.
As the only entertainment for travelers along I-90 in the Bitterroot Mountains, it was detrimental that he keep his customers happy.
"I've canceled the 'Marksmen'," said Mac.
The band he'd had scheduled to come to Stone Lair over the next two weekends couldn't compare to Iliana singing with or without a band. He'd wiped the schedule for the whole month, assuming she'd stay.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"There are two RVs that pulled in this morning. They've already hooked up to the utilities." Mac lowered his phone. "Each one has a dog with them."
His body tensed.
Offering free RV spots brought customers into Stone Lair. He made up for the free offer when they came in to eat, gamble, and drink.
His chest tightened cutting off his air supply. "You've informed them of the rules?"
Since escaping Mexico, he'd stayed far away from dogs. He'd been at the receiving end of the fierce and deadly attacks and seen what canines were capable of. To accommodate the guests, he had a fenced in area behind the cabins, out of his view if he knew ahead of time, where they could walk their dog without putting others at risk.
"Of course." Mac straightened the knot of his tie. "Deliveries are happening right now."
"Go on, then." He had second thoughts and called Mac back to him. "I don't want Iliana anywhere near the cabins."
"You want me to make sure she stays in the building?" asked Mac.
"That's what I'd prefer but if she goes out, make sure she doesn't wander around the cabins." He received Mac's acknowledgment of the order and then split away from him and walked into the casino.
A quick scan of the room and he tallied at least fifty people enjoying the slots, the tables and walking around with a drink in their hand.
When he'd built the place after working construction under-the-table for many years, he'd hoped to eventually fill the rooms offering different entertainment. His success came within three years of opening the doors.
"Good morning, Mr. Stone." Maddie, one of the go-to waitresses that moved between bar and casino, stopped beside him. "How are you?"
He ignored her question meant to grab his attention. "Are the customers happy?"
"They're in good spirits so far." She smiled, waiting for him to pull her into a conversation.
"Let's make sure they stay that way, Maddie." He walked away, heading toward the blackjack table.
Standing back, wanting to stay in the shadows, he watched two games. The dealer, having only worked at Stone Lair for two months, remained under probation for six months. It was the one job where the turnover rate stay
ed high. Despite working with chips, dealers often found a way around to finger cash under the table.
He ran an honest business. It was his personal life that was fucked up.
Pulling out his phone, he called Iliana. She answered on the second ring.
"Anders?" she said.
He could almost hear her smile, and he blurted, "I want you to stay away from the cabins."
Having Mac tell her wasn't enough. She needed to understand that the order came from him and must be obeyed.
"Oh." She paused. "Okay. I was only planning on staying upstairs and—"
"It's not safe," he said, unable to tell her that with the dogs out there, he could not protect her.
"I'm only here to practice and then perform," she said.
He schooled his disappointment. She was here because he'd asked her to stay with him. She should have her freedom to wander and live her life, but he needed restrictions because of the danger surrounding him.
"I'll be up soon," he said, disconnecting the call.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. He ran his hand over his face. Through the years, he'd acknowledged that not all dogs were killers. Whether it was the handler, the genes, the atmosphere in how a dog was raised, nothing could prove that canines couldn't turn and attack.
He'd seen dogs destroy a grown man's arm and kill a seventeen-year-old boy. The scars on his own arm proof of the power a dog had in its jaws. No better than a wolf pack, once a domesticated dog smelled blood, there was no stopping them.
Chapter 9
The acoustics bounced off the log walls. Iliana walked leisurely around the living room only concentrating on her finger movements and timing. For her first show, she planned to play the guitar through two songs. The rest of the time she'd sing with a soundtrack.
She finished the song and removed the strap from around her neck.
That was enough practicing for the day. She shook her left hand and looked over the callouses that'd built up over the years. No pain, no gain.
A door closed in the distance. She turned, and several seconds later, the door leading to the stairs opened. Anders walked in, searching the room and found her.
