Burning Wild

by Feehan, Christine

  “Emma.” He said her name, no more. But it was a demand—a command—and Emma dropped her gaze to his pulsing erection.

  She sucked in her breath, so aroused she would have done anything for him, so hungry for his body she needed him filling her mouth almost more than he did. She wanted the taste of him, the feel of him, scorching hot in the inferno of her mouth. It seemed so personal, the ultimate intimacy, a man’s woman caressing him and worshiping him, bringing him exquisite pleasure. And there was his face, harsh with lust, eyes brooding, as if . . . as if he needed something from her, something only she could give him.

  Mesmerized, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue over the broad, dripping head. His entire body shuddered. His growl was sheer animal, a guttural, harsh sound that sent another orgasm rocketing through her. “Son of a bitch, Emma, fucking do it before I explode.”

  He gripped her hair and yanked her head toward him. When she went to grip the base with her hand, to circle his shaft, he shook his head. “Put your hands on my hips and keep them there.”

  Her heart jumped. She looked up at him. His golden eyes had changed to cat’s eyes, glowing with power, with lust, with need beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She felt the wildness in him and something in her leapt to meet it. She couldn’t help licking at the drops of pearls before he gripped her hair tighter and pushed his shaft, steel-hard and scorching hot, into the haven of her mouth.

  His hips jerked, he gasped, his jaw tightening and his growl growing harsher. Her tongue curled around him in a lazy slide that set his every nerve ending on fire. The feel of her wet, velvet mouth suckling him was shockingly erotic. He had taken her twice and he still was as hard as a rock, thrusting into her mouth, trying to be gentle, knowing she was exhausted. She started to lift her hands and he growled a warning, keeping the control, heightening his pleasure even more.

  Her sharp nails dug into his thighs, but she didn’t move her hands, didn’t move away from him. He felt the pads of her fingers tracing his scars, sliding over them, rubbing, caressing, sending hot arousal straight to his cock. Her mouth was eager, her small little moans vibrating around him, driving him crazy until his lungs burned for air and his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Everything in him tightened, burned. Every muscle, every cell, every nerve ending. Heat boiled, fire scorched, burned as he neared his explosive orgasm.

  The cat wanted his scent all over her, in her, wanted every man that came near her to know she belonged to him and only him. And God help him, Jake wanted the same thing. It was as if he was so merged with the beast he couldn’t separate himself. He couldn’t stop the dominating thrusts, forcing her to take him deeper, the thrill and elation, the sheer pleasure rising like a tide at the sight of her—his woman. His. He had to mark her as such, there was no other way. Mark her with his scent, with his teeth, with his seed. His.

  He forced himself to give up the haven of her mouth, dragging his cock free so that he could mark her, cover her with his scent and seed. “You’re mine, Emma. Only mine.” His harsh growl was one of brutal satisfaction as the hot spray pulsed all over her.

  12

  ABSOLUTE primal fury burned in Emma’s eyes when she looked up at him. For a moment Jake thought she might rake her nails down his thighs. They stared at each other, her green eyes glittering like two jewels, nearly all emerald, the irises almost gone. Shame crept into her expression. Color swept up her throat. She moved her hand to cover the bite on her shoulder as if it might be hurting. She stared at him a moment longer, refusing to bow her head, refusing to look away while satisfaction thrummed through his body.

  Emma couldn’t sustain the anger as the rush of hormones and adrenaline faded from her body, leaving her feeling exhausted, humiliated and sore. Tears burned in her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the hand he held out to her.

  “Emma.”

  She stood on shaky legs, and when he stepped toward her, she stopped him with an imperious hand. “Don’t you say anything to me. I think you said it all. I understand exactly how you feel about me, Jake.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” She tried to push past him, heading for the bathroom in the office suite. Jake calmly caught her arm. She was trembling. He brushed the pad of his thumb up and down her skin with stroking caresses, trying to soothe her.

  She jerked herself away, her face stiff with pride. “It means go to hell.” She stalked around him, slammed the bathroom door and locked it. Let him find another shower. She hated him. He had told her that another woman had blown him a couple of times and then he fucked her. Well, she felt well and truly fucked. He had called that woman a slut and then he’d deliberately made Emma feel like one. Damn him. Damn her for giving in to her own raging needs. Damn her for loving Jake so much she couldn’t resist temptation. Just damn everything.

  There wasn’t a place on her body, inside or out, that wasn’t sore. Her heart ached. Her soul wept. She’d given him everything and he’d totally humiliated her and had the gall to look satisfied. No wonder he thought the women he’d been with were sluts. He made them that way. She’d been that way—ready to do anything he wanted, anything to please him. She’d wanted desperately to please him.

  She was sobbing as the hot water poured over her, great sobs that shook her entire body. She’d ruined her life. Ruined Andraya’s and Kyle’s lives. She had to leave, had to take her baby girl and leave Kyle behind. The adoption wasn’t final yet. She had no rights to him. She couldn’t believe how stupid, how selfish, she’d been, not thinking of her children, letting her hormones drive her. What kind of a mother was she?

  Jake was so absolutely self-assured. The sheer power of his personality was hypnotizing, mesmerizing, and she had been far more susceptible than she’d realized. She slid down the wall of the shower, curling into a small ball, letting the hot water pour over her sore body. She was definitely leaving. She wouldn’t be humiliated like that ever again. How could she face him now? She’d seen the contempt on his face, heard it in his voice, when he spoke to women on the phone, heard them begging and pleading to see him. She would not become another one of his cast-offs. And if she stayed, she would never be able to resist his seduction. Her body throbbed just thinking about him, and she was furious with him. What had she done? How stupid.

  She wanted to scream at herself. She’d always acted rationally. She was rarely even attracted to men, and certainly didn’t feel the obsessive cravings she’d developed for Jake. When had that even started? He wasn’t her kind of man. Greg Patterson was. Andrew. Her beloved Andrew, with his sweet smile, and gentle touch, asking permission before he even kissed her.

  How had she gotten trapped in Jake’s sexual web? She’d even watched out for it. She’d felt his allure, the deep pull of magnetism, but she’d warned herself from the beginning to see him as he really was, to not fall under his spell. Here she was, lying on the shower floor, with his seed in her and on her and her life crumbling around her.

  Emma let herself cry until there were no tears left and she knew she had to face what she’d done. She sat up and slowly began to soap her body, feeling his possession with every movement, trying to wash him away, to wash her obsession with him away. She had to think carefully. Jake was different from other men. She saw the scars on his body—his thighs, his back, even his arms and belly. He trusted no one. He had a particular dislike of women getting close to him. He never spoke to his parents or allowed them near the children. The one time she’d met his mother had been a nightmarish experience.

  She loved Jake, but not in the same way she’d loved Andrew. If she was truthful with herself, Andrew had been her first love, a child’s love, sweet and pure and perfect. Jake had never been a child. He didn’t know what love or trust was. She had come to love Jake over the past two years, watching him struggle to learn to be a father. Watching him provide for the broken souls around him. Her feelings for him were not all just sexual, and that made it even harder to accept his lack of emotion toward her—but she
’d known what he was like. He struggled with gentler emotions. She let herself become attached because he treated her differently than he did others, but she’d never given him power over her. His control over her had always been an illusion—at least, she’d thought it had been. Maybe she’d been the one seeing the illusion all along.

  She’d known she was letting him take over her life when she’d made the move to Texas and settled into his home. She even knew he was counting on her to love Kyle. Jake seemed hard as a rock to everyone around him, but to her he felt vulnerable. In need. And she responded to his need. In some ways she let him down just as much as she’d let the children and herself down by letting her hormones rule her head.

  She needed time. If she went to her room, she knew Jake would come and want to talk. She didn’t have answers, and his personality—his pain—would overshadow all good sense. She needed time alone. He could deal with the children for once. She was going for a long drive, would maybe get a hotel room somewhere. She’d leave him a note and let him know she’d be back by the afternoon. She wasn’t changing all their lives without first thinking long and hard about it.

  JAKE laid his palm on the bathroom door, measuring Em-ma’s height, dread filling him. He’d let the leopard control him and he’d pushed her too far. She may as well have been a virgin for all the experience she had, and the kind of sex he’d introduced her to had been too intense, too rough, too animalistic. Damn it. The last thing he’d wanted to do was destroy the trust he’d so carefully built up with her. Sometimes he’d even believed he’d changed enough to deserve her. But deep down, the beast always lurked, always snarled and demanded.

  He smashed his fist into the door and stalked out, heading for the bathroom in his suite. He knew Emma, and he had to outthink her, had to figure out her next move and be one step ahead of her. She’d think about running. He saw the humiliation and self-loathing in her eyes. It hadn’t been directed at him; she’d already excused his behavior. It was her own she took responsibility for. She wouldn’t want to face him. She’d want to run.

  He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it and stood under the scorching heat, wishing it would melt his skin off and burn the leopard, would let him feel what it was to hurt someone it—He caught himself abruptly. He didn’t know how to love. Love wasn’t even real. It was a word people used to trap one another. Emma thought love was important, but he knew better. Loyalty—that was what counted. He cared for Emma in his way. His body wanted hers, even needed hers. Sex was raw and elemental; sex was real. That was an emotion. He could give her loyalty and he could keep her body sated and happy. He had to find a way to convince her that the things that really mattered, like protection and devotion, he could do better than other men.

  She didn’t trust him. A part of him was furious that she didn’t and the other part understood. She couldn’t know that, thanks to his leopard, his body hurt every minute of the day, hard and desperate for relief. She couldn’t know how so many women threw themselves at him. He’d never gone after a woman. Not ever, not before Emma. And he’d never taken an innocent. The women he’d been with had all wanted something other than his body—his money. They had no interest in his world or his children, only in the money and the pleasure his body could provide.

  “Emma.” He whispered her name aloud, craving her, the way she smiled, her scent, the sound of her voice, the laughter that always included him.

  She had come to be his home. He actually looked forward to opening the kitchen door and finding his food carefully prepared. She paid attention to what his favorite dishes were. She arranged the house to suit him and helped him relate better to the children, and she did it all quietly, smoothly.

  He hadn’t even noticed the differences at first, but he remembered the moment it struck him, the total silence when he’d come home to a vacant house. The house was enormous, a mansion, a showpiece, as cold as hell and just as empty. He had never bothered to hire a cook because he didn’t trust anyone. And then along came Emma, with her laughter and joy, and the house with filled with music and scents and the patter of feet.

  The babies hugged him, their faces lighting up when he returned home—because of her. Emma. She taught them by her example. Where he was taking care of her, she was caring for him and teaching the children to do the same. Her face lit up when she saw him. There was that soft, welcoming note in her voice he’d come to rely on. When he was moody and edgy and being a complete bastard, instead of getting angry with him, she would smile at him and tell him she’d take the children upstairs so he could have some peace. Or she’d tease him, or rub his shoulders. But she never blamed him. Sometimes she’d even tease him and order him out, and he loved those times best. They made him feel part of something—loved.

  Her bedroom was his favorite place. Her scent was all over it, and when he lay on her bed and buried his face in her pillow, he could take her deep into his lungs. Before she had come, he’d spent most nights pacing off excess energy, both sexual and emotional. He had too many memories and he couldn’t seem to shut them out in the night. But now he could lie in the dark with her body warm and soft beside him, talking for long hours into the night, and feel at peace. He’d never had that before, and if she left him, he would never have it again. He’d risked everything by being too primitive and forgetting her inexperience.

  Jake pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went to her room, padding on bare feet down the hall, careful to maintain silence, not wanting to alert her to his presence. Her door was ajar and he slipped inside. He knew instantly the room was empty. The faint scent of her lingered behind, but there was only silence and the white sheet of paper in the center of her still-made bed. He picked it up, eyes scanning it briefly, feeling the blow like a punch to his gut.

  Damn her. She wasn’t leaving the ranch. Not tonight. Not when she was upset with him and he hadn’t had a chance to make his case. He was a businessman. He’d been in a thousand boardrooms. He could close a deal, but not if she got off the ranch. He picked up the phone, his jaw set, his expression savage.

  EMMA stuck her head out the window and forced a smile at Jerico. “Open the gates.”

  To her astonishment, Jerico shook his head, a small grimace on his face. “I can’t do that, Emma. Where would you be going this time of night?”

  She scowled at him. “It isn’t your business.”

  “I’m responsible,” Jerico said. “I don’t want to lose my job.”

  Emma let her breath out slowly, forcing her temper under control. It wasn’t Jerico’s fault. He had to follow rules just like everyone. “I’m going for a drive.” It wasn’t his fault that she was so upset. It was her own fault. Hers. She loathed herself, but she managed a small smile, hoping to charm him. “Please open the gate.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m sorry. The boss said not to let you leave.”

  Emma’s eyebrow went up. “Contrary to popular belief, Jerico, I don’t work for Jake. He can’t boss me around. Open the gate.”

  Jerico shook his head, although he did look remorseful. “You don’t even have a bodyguard with you. He said you weren’t to leave under any circumstances unless he specifically okayed it. If you’re having trouble with the boss . . .”

  Emma slid out of the Jeep and slammed the door. “Jake actually ordered you to keep me here, on the ranch? Like a prisoner? Open the gate now, Jerico. I want to leave. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman, not a child.”

  “Emma . . .”

  “Is there a problem, Emma?” Drake came up behind her in his silent way.

  Emma whirled to face him, caught in the headlights of her vehicle. His gaze dwelled on the marks on her neck—bright red and obvious—the bite mark on her shoulder. He inhaled and stiffened, his gaze shifting to Jerico and then looking warily around him. He even stepped back a few paces, putting distance between them as his sharp gaze studied the obvious signs of possession. He took another wary look around, scanning the night for something danger
ous.

  Emma felt herself blushing, but she stuck her chin in the air. “Jerico won’t open the gates and I want to go for a drive.” There was demand in her voice.

  “You don’t want Jerico to lose his job, Emma. If the boss says no, what’s the big deal? You have over a thousand square miles to drive on. Stay on the ranch.”

  Emma’s hands closed into two tight fists. “I have the right to leave whenever I want to leave, Drake. I’m not arguing with you about this. Open the gate.” She didn’t want to be near anything Jake owned.

  He shook his head, very calm. “Take it up with Jake, Emma. You and I both know how protective he can be. He’s worried something may happen to you—”

  “He’s a control freak,” she snapped, interrupting him. “And he’s not controlling me.”

  She heard the truck but there were no lights as Jake drove up. Her heart began to pound and she tasted fear in her throat. He unhurriedly stepped out of the truck and tossed the keys to Drake before closing the door with a certain firmness that made her mouth go dry. She tried not to be intimidated by the width of his shoulders, the confident, fluid way he walked, or the roped muscles playing under his shirt with suggestive power. Was she afraid of him after all?

  Her body betrayed her, going liquid, hot, melting, telling her she was more afraid of her own reactions than his. She had no will around him. No backbone. She hated that she wanted to wipe the pain from his eyes, the scars from his soul. She hated that she wanted him with every cell in her body. She couldn’t put herself into the hands of a man capable of the kind of cruelty she knew Jake was capable of. He destroyed his enemies. She’d heard of his ruthless business tactics. He used and threw away women. He trusted no one. How could she ever respect herself again if she gave in to him?

  “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Jerico, Drake,” Jake said, his voice calm as he approached Emma with his long, confident strides. Everything about him was self-assured. He moved into her space as if he belonged there, moved close until she was under his shoulder and one hand casually rested on the small of her back.