by Jane Jamison
Pain stung her head as he tugged her by the hair onto her feet. His huge hand covered her breast, his thumb probing its way through the thin material of her shirt. She molded her body to his, urging him on by clutching at the front of his shirt. The kiss never wavered in intensity, his craving becoming hers.
When he turned her hair loose, she dragged in a quick breath and prayed he wasn’t about to stop. Joy filled her when, instead, he cupped her bottom and lifted her off her feet. Instinctively, she locked her legs around his waist and shoved her crotch against his.
Oh, God, yes.
She had no air to speak. Instead, she put all her craving into her kiss, answering his need with her own.
He pivoted around and rammed her against the porch column. Keeping her pinned between him and the pole, he reached up to the collar of her shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to stare into her eyes. Then, with the corners of his mouth lifting upward, he tore her shirt from her.
She yelped, her bare breasts feeling the soft breeze. They stayed as they were, each waiting for the other’s reaction. When she didn’t protest, he gave a growl and put his mouth to her tit. His tongue swept around one nipple then hurried to the next, then back again. She laughed out loud when he pushed her breasts together and took both nipples into his mouth.
The sweet tug of his mouth on her nipple continued through her, searing its way to heat the core between her legs. She’d never wanted another man as she did him. Never wanted anyone else.
Except Wy.
Wy wanted to share, and if Mitch asked her at that very moment, she would’ve pleaded with him to bring Wy to her, too.
Mitch made easy work of her shorts, unbuttoning them, then sliding them down, forcing the zipper open. He set her on her feet long enough to drop the shorts to the floor. Then, groaning again, he set her on the railing of the porch and put her hands around his neck.
“Hold on.”
She didn’t understand until he knelt lower. With a wicked grin, he bit her lacy panties then tore them away.
“Whoa.”
He glanced up at her, his mouth less than an inch from her pussy lips. “Stop? No.”
She shook her head emphatically. “Hell, no.”
“Thank God.” Shoving her legs wide, he pulled her folds apart and crushed his mouth to her.
She cried out, thankful they were in the middle of nowhere, and clung to him. He sucked on her clit, at once driving her to the brink of a climax. The last time a man had tasted her, had feasted on her as he was doing, was a distant past. And the way Mitch was going at her, lapping, sucking, nipping, was enough to drive even the most experienced woman wild.
His fingertips dug into her buttocks, fondling her, keeping her balanced on the railing. Shaking his head, he whipped his mouth over her clit, teasing her only to pull away when she was oh-so near.
She whimpered and dug her fingernails into him. If she tore his shirt, if she went so far as to draw blood, he couldn’t blame her. He was the one in control, the one who was driving her near the edge, then torturing her when he turned her clit loose. She was in a precarious position as she leaned back as far as she could without falling off.
“Don’t let go.”
She tightened his hold on his shoulders, knowing her grip had to hurt him, but he didn’t complain. Leaning away from her, he slipped his palms along her thighs, then down her legs. Keeping his gaze to hers, he worked his belt buckle open then yanked off his belt. He tossed it aside and started undoing his jeans.
Her eyes grew wide when his erect cock leapt free of his jeans. Had she ever seen any cock as long or as thick? Purple veins lined the length of him, riding the sweet curve toward the end.
He stood, taking his time, letting her drink in the sight of him. His jeans dropped to his ankles. Brushing back a strand of her hair, he eased closer, his gaze still on hers as he positioned his cock at her opening.
“I want you, Chey.”
She couldn’t give him an answer. And she didn’t have to. He had to know. Her taut nipples said as much. The wetness between her legs told her story. She wanted him so badly she hurt.
He eased his cock closer, pushing at her folds. Her breathing, already doing double time, picked up speed along with her pulse.
And then, as though someone had put a pin to a balloon, it was over.
Mitch pulled her off the railing, then stepped back and yanked up his jeans.
“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”
He put his finger to his mouth. “Quiet.”
“Why?” Suddenly she felt exposed for all the world to see. She snatched up her shorts and the remnants of her shirt. Mitch stared into the night, his gaze skimming the pastures around the house.
“Get inside. Now.” He grabbed her roughly by the arm, opened the door, and shoved her inside the house. Reaching around her, he took hold of the rifle on the rack next to her.
“What’s wrong?” Panicked, she squinted into the night. “Mitch?”
“I heard a noise. Get inside and lock all the doors. Don’t come outside no matter what.” He started down the steps, rifle in hand.
“But, Mitch—”
He whirled on her, his face stern and unyielding. “Do what I say. Now.”
She nodded then slammed the door closed. Her hands shook as she turned the lock then slid the door chain into its holder. Her breath burned her throat as she hurried to the kitchen door and locked it, too.
What was wrong? She couldn’t see into the darkness. The one flood light in the backyard didn’t extend into the shadows outside the grassy area. The lights inside the house illuminated the room. If anyone was watching, they’d be able to see her clear as day.
She had to protect herself. If something happened to Mitch, she had to be ready. After first finding a large knife to use for protection, she moved around the kitchen and turned off most of the lights. The small nightlight at the entrance to the kitchen wouldn’t give off enough light for anyone outside to see her.
She stayed still, listening, but the only sounds were those from a couple of tree frogs. Where was Mitch? Why hadn’t he come back yet? The knife felt large and unwieldy in her hand.
She was still naked, but it wasn’t her nudeness that made her feel vulnerable. Checking up the stairs first and not finding anyone there, she hurried up the steps then down the hallway to her room. Taking care to look before she entered, she rushed inside and closed the door behind her.
She tugged on a shirt along with her shorts as she moved to the window. But she still couldn’t see into the night. Where the stars had seemed to be so bright earlier, she now realized how very little light they gave off. Even the half-moon didn’t help much. One quick look and she pulled the curtains closed.
Was Mitch all right? Why was he taking so long to return? Had George Glasson found out where she was? Had he hurt Mitch? How long should she wait until she went to search for him?
A quick glance around the room confirmed it. She’d left her phone downstairs on the kitchen table. Yet calling for help wouldn’t do much good. Most small towns like Garner didn’t have a 9-1-1 system, and she didn’t have Mitch’s or Wy’s numbers in her phone yet. The only calls she could make would bring help from too far away to do any good. She was on her own until either Mitch came back inside or Wy found her locked in her bedroom.
The quiet of the night that had seemed so peaceful earlier was driving her insane now. Was Mitch sneaking around outside trying to find whatever or whoever had made the sound?
She put her back against the wall next to her bedroom door. If anyone tried to get inside through either the window or the door, she’d be ready to run.
Chapter Four
Why didn’t they have an alarm clock in her bedroom? Anything that would tell her how long she’d waited. Her initial panic had morphed into anger and a determination to take control of her life again.
If George has done anything to Mitch, I’ll move Heaven and Hell to see him locked up and the key thrown
away.
Time had crawled by, but she couldn’t stand to wait any longer. She listened with her ear to the door, then carefully opened it and cringed at the squeak the old door made. A look up and down the hallway—she hadn’t thought to flip the switch on the hall lights—showed her an empty space. Unless George was hiding in one of the other rooms, ready to spring out at her, then the way was clear.
Telling herself not to rush, she slipped out of the bedroom and started down the stairs leading to the kitchen. Once she was almost to the bottom of the steps, she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. Sure enough, her phone still rested on the table where she’d left it.
So far, so good.
Getting her phone was easy enough, but turning toward the living room was hard. She listened once again and, thankfully, heard nothing. One check of the old metal clock hanging on the kitchen wall told her Mitch had been gone over twenty minutes. Either he was being incredibly thorough or he’d found whatever, whoever had made the noise.
I have to find him.
Keeping her gaze sliding from side to side, she made her way to the front door. It was still locked, giving her hope that she was alone in the house. But alone wasn’t good. She needed Mitch by her side.
The sound of a shot rang out, terrorizing her. She backed away, going into the shadows, the knife clutched tightly in her hand.
Oh, God. Mitch.
The silence was even stronger after the loud report. She waited, sure she’d hear another gunshot. But none came.
I have to help him.
Forcing her legs to move, she clutched the doorknob then hesitated. He’d told her to stay inside. Did she obey him or risk walking into a fight? But what if the fight was already over and he’d lost?
Fear for him outweighed fear for her own safety. She eased closer to the window, needing to check one more time before she made the bold move.
The yard was silent and still. Nothing moved under the slight breeze.
She turned the lock, then opened the door and stepped back, fearful of someone jumping out at her as soon as she pulled the door wide. But again, everything remained quiet. The breath she’d been holding came out in a ragged rush of air.
Come on. You have to find him.
She walked out onto the porch and again waited and listened. Nothing again. Taking care to make as little noise as she could, she edged down the porch steps then checked for any signs of Mitch.
Should I call out to him? But what if he isn’t the only one who hears me?
Going into the pasture wasn’t a good idea. She wasn’t familiar with the area and could easily get turned around. Ending up lost in the middle of a field was the last thing she wanted.
The barn.
Wouldn’t it make sense that, after finding nothing around the house, he’d check the barn? Besides, she didn’t have any other options. Slowly, she crept her way around the side of the house. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she picked up her pace until she was running toward the barn.
A pitiful moan drifted on the air. The sound wasn’t menacing, and yet, it didn’t sound quite human. Steeling herself to whatever she might find, she peeked around one of the double doors.
She’d half expected to find Mitch lying on the ground, his blood spilling out around him. Instead, she found him kneeling in front of a pile of hay. A black-and-white dog lay on its side.
“Mitch?” She edged closer, still surprised to find him uninjured.
He waved her over. “It’s Buzz.”
The poor animal looked like it had been torn apart. Blood splattered its long coat, and spittle dropped from his jaws. Yet, although the dog had to be in terrible pain, his tail still wagged when she went to her knees beside Mitch. “Hey, Buzz. Poor baby. What happened to him?”
“He got caught up with a pack of wild dogs.” Mitch held a towel that had once been white against the dog’s side. “I found him out in the field.”
“Did you fire your gun?” The rifle lay at his side.
“Yeah. They were on top of him. The only way to get them off him was to shoot at them. If I hadn’t been afraid I’d hit him, I would’ve killed a few. Once they were gone, I got him in here.”
She hadn’t noticed the patch of dark color against his black T-shirt. “Why didn’t you carry him into the house?”
“You were supposed to have the doors locked. I figured you were upstairs and might not hear me.” He lifted the towel that was almost completely soaked in blood. “Can you help him?”
“I’m not a veterinarian.” And yet, as soon as she’d said the words, she started thinking of the steps she’d take to save Buzz.
“At least give it a try.”
“Okay.” She nodded, her mind fully on the task at hand. “Get me some more towels and some water. And take this.” She thrust out the knife she’d brought from the house.
He took it, opened his mouth to ask a question, and then stopped. “What else are you going to need?”
“Go heat a smaller knife over the stove. And be sure the water’s clean. Bring thread or anything I can use to stitch him up, along with a needle.”
“Done.”
She grabbed his arm as he stood. “Is it safe now, Mitch? Did you find anything else out there?”
“Not a thing. I’m not sure what I heard. I had to go pretty far from the house before I heard the dogs attacking Buzz.”
“Okay. Now hurry.”
* * * *
Mitch had always found intelligent women attractive. The smarter they were, the sexier they were. The fact that Chey was also smokin’ hot was a bonus. Chey Kirkland was the complete package, and as far as he was concerned, she was a damn sure bet to be the one for him and his cousin.
He’d helped her as much as he could, following her orders as she did everything she could to patch up Buzz. Her voice was gentle and soothing, cooing at the poor dog to keep him calm. He’d had to tie Buzz up, half sitting on the poor animal, because of the lack of anesthesia. He held the dog’s head, keeping his vicious teeth away from Chey’s busy hands. The agonizing sounds Buzz made tore at his gut, but Chey had worked through them, acting as though they hadn’t rattled her. By the time she’d sewn up the worst wound, then bandaged more of them, he was almost as exhausted as the dog. Buzz had gone unconscious at one point, but he was awake and whining now.
“I’ve done everything I can for him. All we can do now is try and make him comfortable.”
“You did great. I was sure he was a goner.”
“Did any of the pack appear to have rabies? Were any of them foaming at the mouth?” She wiped her hands off with the only remaining towel that wasn’t deep red with Buzz’s blood.
“I don’t think so.” He enjoyed seeing her in control, just as she’d been when they’d brought Wy into the ER.
“Still, I think he needs to be watched for signs.” She scratched Buzz behind the ears. “Easy, boy. I know it hurts, but we’ll get some pain meds for you as soon as we can. It’s okay, Buzz.”
“I gave Herb Blasdell a call and left him a message. Knowing Herb, it might be a while before he picks it up.”
“So Buzz isn’t your dog?” She stroked his fur again and murmured softly to the distressed animal.
“Nope. He belongs to one of our neighbors. Until then, I’ll stick by him until Herb arrives. He’s okay to move, right?”
“I think so. Tell Herb to put him in the cab of the pickup and not back in the bed. And to take it slow and easy getting him home.”
He chuckled and slid his palm along her arm. “How’d you know he drives a pickup?”
She noticed his touch, but didn’t say anything. “Doesn’t everyone around here?”
“Yeah. At least ninety-five percent of us.” He brushed back a strand of her hair, recalling how he’d done the same thing on the porch. “I wish we could pick up where we left off.” He would’ve sworn she blushed.
“It’s just as well we don’t.” She got to her feet. “I’m not going to be here
long enough to start anything serious. And, in case you haven’t figured it out already, I’m not the kind of girl who gets hot and heavy with a man she barely knows. At least, not usually.”
She started out of the barn. Her gentle sway made his cock twitch.
“Hey, Chey?”
“Yes?”
For a second, he was stunned, momentarily forgetting what he was going to say. The moonlight caressed her, casting her in an ethereal glow. “Just so you know, I’m as serious as it gets.”
Their gazes locked. The breeze picked up her hair and floated it around her shoulders.
“G’night, Mitch.” Turning on her heel, she walked out of the barn.
* * * *
“Jeremy, it’s Chey.” She fell back against the pillows lining the headboard of the king size bed.
“Hey, girl, are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m fine.” Chey smiled into the phone. Hearing Jeremy Pritchard’s voice made her feel better. More relaxed. Calmer. Being with Mitch and Wy made her feel amazing, but also very confused.
The sexy cowboys didn’t fit in with her plans. She’d had her life mapped out since high school. First college then med school, then residency, then five years working in a hospital before setting up her own practice. Then, and only then, would she be ready to think about getting married and, possibly, having two kids. By then, her career would be set, and she’d be able to focus on the personal side of her life.
Although Jeremy was her second cousin, she hadn’t met him until the first day of high school. From the moment they’d shared a history book, they’d become inseparable. Now he was her hair stylist and confidant.
If it hadn’t been for the out-and-proud, six-feet-four, two hundred and twenty-five pound Jeremy taking her under his wing, she would’ve spent high school huddled in a corner of the library, forever the shy geek. She liked to think she’d helped Jeremy, too, by standing with him against the homophobic football players. Once he showed them what he could do on the field, the bullying and taunting about his sexuality had died away.
