Cain's Law (Cowboys on the Edge Book 3)

by Delilah Devlin

  “Then what are you saying?” she asked, her voice rising. “That you have to go back to work, and I have to go on my way?”

  Cain stifled an immediate rejection of the idea. He had no right to make her stay. “The money’s yours. You can afford a ticket anywhere. Far away from him.”

  “You think that’s what I should do?” Her voice was small and uneven.

  He knew, with a certainty he felt in his bones, that she waited for him to say something else. Something about them. But should he? Could he keep her safe here, indefinitely?

  She tugged her hand away then straightened her shoulders. “I’ll go. I know it’s the smart thing to do, and you’ve already done so much. But, I have to know…”

  Cain felt his belly tighten in rejection, because if she asked, he’d tell her. And God help them both.

  Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were curved into fists on her thighs. “Do you… could you ever…see yourself with someone like me?”

  “Dammit, Carina,” he said, his voice rasping. “You’re so damn young.”

  Her chin shot up, and her eyes flashed. “Too young for you?”

  “Fuck, you deserve better than me.” His jaw clenched.

  “If you’re looking for excuses for me to go, that’s not the best one to use. I’ve had money. I wore clothes that I would bet cost more than you make in a month. But, I wasn’t happy. And I didn’t like me.” She dipped her chin. “I feel safe with you.”

  “I can’t be your bodyguard. Not forever.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I feel safe—I know you won’t hurt me. That you won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” She lifted her gaze, locking it with his. “I can’t imagine letting anyone else touch me.” She stopped short and turned away her head.

  Cain sat beside her, not breathing. She’d imagined him touching her. She’d flirted. Outrageously, but he hadn’t taken her behavior seriously.

  She’d imagined being with him.

  Cain straightened. What he should do was tell her she’d find another man. Someone good. Someone who could give her things. But his nobility could only stretch so far. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back again, so he gripped her by the waist and pulled her over his lap.

  Her body shivered against him. Her palms pushed against his chest.

  He kept his arms around her, loosely. She could escape if she wanted, but with every second that passed, he watched her grow calmer. Watched rose creep across her cheeks, her tight lips relax.

  When she leaned toward him, letting her ripe nipples scrape across his chest, only then did he move. He laid his palm against her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her plump bottom lip. “Stay with me.”

  Carina made a noise, something between a sob and laugh, and pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pushing her breasts against him, because she needed to feel his hardness. She craved so much more. Had since she’d lain alone that first night with the sounds of him walking circles around the house, knowing he would keep her safe. Alone with the smell of his lovely, manly musk on the sheets. She’d let that feeling grow over the past days, wondering whether this was how being in love felt. His care for her was as close as she’d ever experienced to being cherished. But since he hadn’t acted on any of the many invitations she’d offered with her eyes and “accidental” peeks at her ass, she’d begun to wonder if he considered her damaged goods—because of whom she’d lived with and what he’d done.

  But there wasn’t any mistaking the look he gave her now with those clear blue eyes. No misunderstanding his raw tone. Stay with me. Before she’d let him reconsider, she reached for the hem of the tee she’d ruined with paint and pulled it over her head.

  His gaze fell to her full breasts. “Jesus.”

  “They ache, Cain. I ache. For you.” She felt breathless. Her heart skittered wildly.

  Slowly, he raised his hands to palm her flesh, and she closed her eyes, loving the heat, loving his gentle caresses.

  He bent his head and trailed his mouth across her shoulder, then lower, pushing her back so he could kiss the tops of her breasts. The moment he latched onto a tingling nipple, she cried out, so joyous was the feeling flooding her body with warmth.

  Suddenly, he drew back. His hands gripped her bottom, and he rose.

  She wound her legs around his waist as he walked to the bed. “I’ll get paint on your sheets,” she whispered.

  “We’ll both get dirty, sweetheart. I’m not worried.” He set her down beside the bed then knelt to open her jeans and slide them down her legs.

  Nude, she held her breath as he glanced at her sex.

  His gaze dropped to her feet, and he held down her pant legs as she stepped out, leaning on his shoulders for balance. Then he stood, and she went to work on the chambray shirt he wore, unsnapping the buttons down the front, and then parting the sides to get her first look at his broad chest. He had far less hair than Joey, and it was brown and silky. She raked her fingertips through it, plucking. When he gave a little groan, her mouth curved. So, she nuzzled his nipple, loving the way he gently cupped the back of her head and rubbed her scalp. Lord have mercy, she loved the taste of his skin, the soft texture of his flat brown nipple. With her teeth, she teased it into a point then fluttered her tongue against the tiny bead.

  “Witch,” he muttered.

  She glanced upward, her gaze snagging on his hooded eyes. “I want you, Cain. All of you.” She backed away, sitting on the edge of the bed before lying full-length and stretching, her gaze going to his still-clothed body.

  He didn’t need another hint. His clothing flew off. And then he was climbing over her, his large, long body inches from her skin, but still warming her, breast to toes.

  He held still, braced on his arms as she raked his body with her searching gaze. Everywhere her gaze touched was tanned and hard. His stomach was firm, muscled, his arms and thighs bulged. Sweet heaven, his cock was lovely—reddened and engorged, straight with a plump, round head.

  Her pussy clenched. Fluid rushed to wet her channel. She squeezed together her legs to hold it inside.

  “I don’t want to scare you, baby.”

  “I’m not a baby, Cain. And Joey humiliated me, but he didn’t leave me damaged. I swear, I want this. I want you.” Slowly, caught in his intense gaze, she inched apart her legs and raised her knees. Then she reached downward and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “Come inside me, Cain Whitfield,” she whispered. “Fill me.”

  Cain’s entire body was hard, muscles tensed, his cock so swollen he was afraid he’d come just from the gentle tug of her hand. Everywhere his gaze landed, he found something else to love—her pretty, cherry-tipped breasts, her bare mound and pretty pink folds. And her eyes. Sweet Jesus, she looked at him with such trust shimmering in her doe-eyes. If he could hold himself forever like this, he’d never want anything more.

  But her grip firmed, and so did her chin.

  He hid a smile at her determination to have him. Who was he to deny a woman intent on finding pleasure? “Show me the way, baby.” With a gentle flex, he entered her, pausing to ensure she was okay.

  Her eyes widened just a bit, her chest rose around a deep inhalation, and then she drew away her hands, placing them on each side of his hips as he pushed deeper again.

  She was slick and hot. He wanted to shout as she gloved him, because he felt everything, every tremor of her interior walls, the clasp of her greedy labial mouth, the pinch of her fingers as she dug them into his skin. “Jesus, fuck.” He shook his head and remembered to breathe. “I can’t promise I’ll last long.”

  “We can try again if you don’t do it right.”

  Her whisper was sultry and funny, and his smile stretched, mirroring her grin as she wriggled beneath him, helping him ease deeper, until at last he was seated, their groins flush. His cock pulsed with his heartbeat, her walls convulsed gently, giving him a rolling tug that he fought to resist. But she quivered all over now—her belly, her bre
asts, her breaths. He pulled away, then glided back inside, and had to shut his eyes because her eyelids were slitted, her mouth opening around a tiny moan that crushed his ability to think. He had to hear that sound again.

  She lifted her legs to hug his hips, and he was surrounded by her strong limbs. She rubbed her cheek against his then caught his earlobe to give it a bite. This time he shivered and plunged harder, faster, trying to keep his strokes even and measured, but her nails bit, urging him on. His back and thighs burned with the effort he wasted on holding back.

  “It’s okay, Cain. Don’t be gentle. I need this. Take me there.”

  As though she’d eased her grip on the reins, he powered faster, roaring as he pounded inside her. So wet, so tight. Oh fuck, I’m going to lose it now—but he hammered on, holding on by a thread—that snapped the moment she dug her head into the pillow and screamed.

  They rocked together, hands gliding in sweat, bodies locked long after his erection waned. He was where he wanted to be, to stay, and she seemed damn happy, as well, judging by how she held his face to tilt this way and that as she kissed his chin, his cheeks, everywhere she wanted. He captured her mouth and kissed her sweet lips, realizing this was their first.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, when he pulled back. “I should have started here.”

  “That the protocol?” she said, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as she smiled.

  He shook his head. “It’s the law. Mouth like that needs the right care.” He placed another kiss on her mouth, then rolled until she lay on top. At last, his cock slid free.

  She groaned. “I already miss him inside me.”

  “Give me a few seconds to catch my breath. I’ll make sure he gets back where he belongs.”

  “A few seconds?” She chuckled and arched an eyebrow. “You Superman?”

  “No, just a cowboy. I’ve been a walking hard-on for days. Won’t take much to get him interested again.”

  She kissed the side of his neck then raised her head to meet his gaze. “The offer still open?”

  “For you to stay? Hell, yeah.”

  “But there’ve got to be some ground rules.”

  He narrowed his eyes, more than a bit amused she was turning his words back on him. “Shoot.”

  “You have to let me contribute. You say I’m getting my money back, well, I want to pay my fair share.”

  Cain didn’t want them to have their first argument, but there was something she had to understand. “I don’t want that money, Carina. It was his. Keep it to buy clothes, whatever you want, take out your little revenge against him by frittering it away—or save it in case you do need it someday. For as long as you’re with me, I’ll take care of what you need.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden, and I don’t want to be that girl anymore.”

  Cain framed her face with his hands. “He may have made you his trophy girl, but I’d never think of you like that. Never expect you to be or look a certain way. Just because I’m making the money right now doesn’t mean I won’t respect you.”

  A frown marred her forehead. “I’ve never held a job,” she whispered.

  He felt a pang inside his chest. She was so damn young. “I can think of plenty of ways you can earn your way here, baby.” He gave her a hard glare when her frown deepened. “You’ve got a dirty mind. I was talking about you helping me with this place. If you don’t mind painting, learning to lay tile, or cleaning up sawdust, those things would be a big help.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I could cook. Do your laundry.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “See? Sounds like a full-time job to me.”

  She stared for a minute then sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I can’t get a job, anyway. Someday, he’ll come for me. If I wasn’t thinking with something other than my head, I’d be on a plane to some other country—one with gun laws and where people don’t know who the hell Joey works for.”

  “You don’t have to run. I’ve got some ideas to keep you safe.” He filtered his fingers through her hair. “Trust me, darlin’. He’ll make a mistake. When he does, I’ll be there to nail his ass.”

  Carina traced a finger around his nipple. Then she scratched the tip with her nail. “Your breathing sounds fine to me.”

  So, she wanted to change the subject. Cain lifted her chin with his thumb and searched her face. “I’ll keep you safe, Carina. If you want this, with me, then I’ll do my part.”

  Again, her eyes glanced shyly from beneath the dark fringe of her lashes. “I don’t want you because I feel safe, Cain. I kind of like being here. I like you.”

  He hoped like hell that one day soon, she’d more than “like” him. Because he was pretty damn sure he was already in love.

  Chapter Six

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  Carina stood back and looked at the stripes of color she’d painted side-by-side on the wall of the spare bedroom. Cain had brought back little cans of paint in each color she’d selected from the paint chip samples from the local hardware store. Her job was to choose the room color—his way of letting her leave her imprint on the house.

  She thought it a very sweet gesture. Perhaps the most romantic thing a man had ever done. Not that they’d spoken of the future, but she had the feeling like Cain intended for her to be here a long time.

  Maybe they were both crazy. This should never work. He was a small town cop who’d never lived anywhere but Caldera, Texas. She was from Chicago and had never done anything of note—other than being the object of a bad man’s obsession. They shouldn’t work. But somehow, they did.

  After the first night they’d made love, she’d thought, maybe, her fascination with the man would wane. That she’d discover he snored—he did, but not so loudly she didn’t think the sound was cute. That she’d find some disagreeable personal habit she couldn’t look beyond, but so far, he was perfect.

  Too perfect. Kind, sexy, considerate. Was she looking at him through rose-colored glasses and simply not seeing his flaws?

  Carina took a deep breath and looked at the stripes again. The hallway would be the same soft blue color as the living room below. Off-white was nice, but boring. Brown would make the cozy room look even smaller. Buttery cream would be beautiful, but next to it her skin looked green—so that would never do. What would happen if she painted the walls the pale yellow and he saw her against one? He might decide she wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, as he told her often. The taupe might work—if she used touches of brown and blue and maybe pops of lime in the bedcovers and pillows.

  And there she was imagining her future here, picking out the furnishings for a spare bedroom she might never see used. She glanced at the windows. Still wary of being seen from below, even after all these days, she wished she could take a walk outside so she could think of something besides Cain and the renovations. There. She’d admitted she was dissatisfied with something—mainly that she’d been cooped up far too long. Damn Joey Guiducci.

  A door opened below, and she capped the paint cans and set her brush on a tray. Cain must be finished cutting the boards for the new doorframe for the mudroom, since the old frame was beginning to rot.

  Relieved she could set aside her worries, she hurried downstairs. When she was with Cain, she didn’t have the ability to think. Happiness tended to sweep away the cobwebs—and his ready smile and swoon-worthy frame definitely made her happy.

  He was setting down the boards over the center of the crawlspace opening when she walked in. His hair and chest were covered with bits of sawdust, and he smelled like freshly cut wood. A smell he carried to bed and which she loved.

  He shot her a glance. “You pick a color?”

  “I’m close.”

  His mouth crimped together like he was trying not to smile.

  She gave him a deep frown. “It’s not that easy. I want to choose the right one.”

  “Did I say a word?”

  “No, but you’re laughing at me. How’d you ever choose that blue?”
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  “I asked Sherry to choose a color. First one she said, I bought.”

  “Seriously?” She stared. “If she’d chosen chartreuse, would you have painted it puke green?”

  “Sherry has good taste. I knew she wouldn’t tell me something I’d hate.”

  Irritation flashed, and she fisted a hand on her hip. “Maybe you should have let her choose the rest of the colors.”

  Cain stood and brushed off his chest and arms. Then, before she could back away, he picked her up by the waist and walked her into the kitchen. He set her on the counter, pushed apart her legs, and stepped between them.

  The moment she felt him press against her pussy, she sighed.

  “Baby, you’re overthinking. I don’t care what damn color you paint the walls. I want you happy with it.”

  “I like the butter cream, but I look green next to it.”

  “You would never look green.”

  She slipped the sample card from her back pocket and held it up beside her cheek.

  His glance fell to the card then flicked to her cheek. “See what you mean.”

  Her eyes began to fill.

  “You’re not cryin’ over paint, are you?”

  She slumped. “No, you don’t think I’m pretty with butter cream.”

  His eyebrows pulled together as he stared. “You get your period?”

  Her jaw dropped, and she slapped his shoulder. She opened her mouth to rail at him for being indelicate, but then she realized something. “We haven’t been using anything.”

  “I know.”

  “You knew, and you didn’t think to use something?” She pushed against his shoulders. “I was in a fire. My purse and my pills were burned to a crisp. I get a pass for being stupid. You don’t!”

  He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about your pills or a damn condom, because I’m all in, Carina. Herpes, babies, I don’t give a shit.”

  “You can’t have thought that the first time…” His slow nod calmed her upset. Cain wasn’t stupid, and she owed him an apology for saying that, but now she knew he wasn’t just thinking about now or tomorrow, or even next week. Cain had purposely ignored protection—maybe he’d even planned to trap her that way. So, he had a flaw—being just a little sneaky. She could live with that one. She raised her chin. “I like the butter cream. I don’t care if I look like crap against it. I’m not sleeping in that room.”