Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  "I'm not trying to rape you," she said, amusement laced through her words. "I'm just trying to stay warm."

  "I know."

  "Then relax a little."

  "I'm not sure I can."

  She sat up a little, trying to look me in the eye, but I turned my head to avoid her. She touched the side of my face, pulling me toward her.

  "This is fucked up," she said softly. "I'm sorry I pulled you into it."

  "You didn't. I jumped."

  "This is what I was trying to avoid. I knew...I knew it was inevitable that he would catch up to me. I didn't want you to get hurt."

  "I'm a grown man, Becks. I can take care of myself."

  "Not when you don't know what's coming."

  She caressed my jaw with her thumb, this look of affection coming into her eyes that stopped my heart for a moment. I almost couldn't believe it, couldn't believe she was finally dropping the walls and letting me see what she'd been hiding underneath all this time. For a month, I'd wandered out into that barn, done everything I could to convince her that I was a good guy and, for a month, she'd brushed me off. But I'd known there was something there, knew she wasn't as indifferent as she'd wanted me to think. Even before the kisses we'd shared in the hall outside her daughter's bedroom, I'd known she shared my interest. And now... now...

  She kissed me, her lips brushing like ice cubes against mine. But then she came in for more, his lips quickly warming up as they pressed almost roughly against mine. I welcomed her, my lips parting, the tip of my tongue looking for more. She sighed softly against me as she opened to me, as she welcomed me inside of her. I slid my hand along her back, slipping my hand up underneath the heavy sweater she wore. Her skin was warm despite the chill, warming my hand even as she shivered from my touch.

  The cold slowed us down. If she'd opened to me like this in any other place, I would have ravished her as quickly and as thoroughly as I could. But every movement brought a rush of cold air, a reminder of our circumstances. So, we moved slowly, our hands hesitant in their movements, our kisses slow and lingering. And that had its own sort of beauty to it, its own sort of satisfaction.

  The truth was, I might have been content with just a few kisses, a few touches. The soreness, the cold... I wasn't even sure if I was physically capable of what she was asking for. But then her lips slipped down over my chin, the tip of her tongue leaving a freezing trail of moisture as she explored my throat, her hand slipping under my shirt, tugging it out of her way so that she could tease my sensitive nipple with her sharp teeth, so that she could run her tongue over the cold induced goose pimples that led the way to my navel.

  I buried my fingers in her hair as she nibbled at my hip bones; her fingers worked furiously to free my body of the confines of my jeans. This was insane. Her movements were exposing very sensitive inches of my body to below freezing temperatures, but I didn't care. If I froze to death in this moment, I would die a very happy man!

  Her hand was still so very cold when it wrapped itself around the base of my cock. I cried out and she laughed, her eyes dancing with amusement as she looked at me and, for a moment, I was lost in the happiness of seeing that, of knowing that I'd finally done something to make my sober crush let down her hair for a moment. I sat up and pulled her to me, stealing her lips again, kissing her so thoroughly that she melted against me, her body molding itself around me. Her jeans weren't as easy to slip from her body, but I managed to slide them down over her hips, my hands exploring the soft cotton of her practical panties. I loved that she wasn't wearing a thong or some other sexy piece of fabric, loved that she didn't feel the need accentuate her sexiness for any reason. Loved that she hadn't made any special changes to her wardrobe for this trip I wasn't supposed to be a part of.

  It was self-centered to have that thought. But I couldn't help myself.

  She moved her hips against my hands, encouraging me to touch all those hidden places that had the potential of driving her out of her mind. And I was more than happy to accommodate her. I slid my hand down along her lower belly, pressing it slow and tight against her swollen lips, my middle finger seeking—and finding—that moist place where my touch made her rear her head back and release a most satisfying moan.

  She was beautiful in her desire. Color flooded her pale cheeks and her eyes glowed. I ran my hand over the side of her face, slipped a couple of fingers into her hot mouth. So hot! I grabbed her ass, pulled her onto my lap. Her jeans were still in the way, but she knew what I wanted. She tugged at them, pushing them out of the way until she was able to straddle me, to ride me as she did those horses she loved so much. Pleasure burst from her eyes, from the moans that left her lips in a long series of notes that were like music. I held her hips tight, held her hard against me, filled her as completely as physics would allow, the intensity almost overwhelming in those first few seconds.

  She pushed me back, gathering the blankets and jackets around us. I'd forgotten about the cold, forgotten the soreness that had, moments ago, been terrorizing me. All I could think about was her silky skin, the feel of her body impaled on my cock. All I wanted was to see that pleasure dance in her eyes for the rest of my life.

  She pressed her knees against my sides, rested her body against my chest, her hands holding her up high enough so that she could stare into my eyes as she slowly began to rotate her hips. My eyes rolled up into my head at those first movements, the pleasure so intense that I felt as though I'd been transported back in time, that I was a teenager once again who didn't know enough to control his desires. But I was still a man and I'd be damned if I allowed this to end before I'd had plenty of time to experience everything I'd been dying to know since the moment I first laid eyes on Becky Kay.

  I let her take the lead, let her use me the way she wanted. I lay still, focused my eyes on that gorgeous face. I ran my hands over her bare ass, her smooth back, desperate to touch her everywhere. She bit her bottom lip and I tugged it out, biting it myself, tasting the sweetness of her need there. We kissed for a long moment, but then she pulled away, her own eyes rolling back in her head as she rushed quickly toward release.

  I sat up again—fuck the damn cold—and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her hard against me, guiding her so that she could guide me to all those places that screamed for my touch. She leaned back, a scream unvoiced on her lips as her cunt muscles clenched down against me, as her body went into spasms with the intensity of her orgasm. I wanted to give her moment, wanted to allow her the pleasure of that moment, but I couldn't. I flipped her over, thrust hard against her, my own orgasm too close to ignore. It wasn't but a moment or two before it overtook me, rushing through my body with an intensity that darkened my vision and tore screams from my throat I'd never voiced before.

  I'd never experienced anything quite like that before. I don't know how long we lay there, connected, unable to let go of one another. When I finally became aware that her body had gone limp beneath me, I rolled onto my side, wanting to free her of my weight. But she rolled with me, wrapping her body around mine as she tugged the blanket and jackets around us again. Our clothes were in disarray, our jeans rolled into balls at the bottom of the bedroll. But we were warm, somehow. The heat of our bodies, our skin, touching one another was enough.

  She was asleep almost immediately. I followed quickly, completely forgetting that there was an FBI agent hunting us. Forgetting everything but the feel of this woman in my arms.

  Chapter 13

  At the Ranch

  "At least Lance is with her," Grainger said. "She's not completely on her own."

  "We don't know what this guy is capable of." Sutherland reached up to rub at her tired eyes. "We don't what they're up against and we don't know if they have any sort of weapons. All we know for sure is that they didn't take the sat phone with them."

  That had been a disappointment. Sutherland assumed Lance would think to take something so basic, but he'd clearly been more concerned about them locating and evacuating the campers than
he'd been about protecting himself and Becky.

  "I think they left it so that this guy couldn't track them with it," Kirkland said. "It's actually a smart move."

  "But they can't contact us if they run into trouble."

  "They'll find a way," Grainger said.

  She nodded, but she wasn't confident. There were miles and miles of brush and woods and open field out there. She had no idea where they'd gone, where she intended to go. They'd clearly not come back toward MidKnight, but that didn't tell them much. There were three other directions in which they could have gone.

  "I should have gone with her. I should be the one out there with her."

  They all turned and looked at Hank. Sutherland sighed, going to him, laying her hand on his arm.

  "Jonnie was hurt. Becky understood that."

  "I promised I would go. I should have."

  "Lance won't let anything happen to her," Ryan pipped up for the first time. "Anyone with eyes can see how he feels about her. That'll make him even more diligent."

  Sutherland had to agree. But she also knew Becky and she knew Becky was good at pushing people away, keeping them at arm's length. Hell, Sutherland had known her for five years and never guessed that her past was quite this intense.

  "Why the hell is that man after her? Who is he to her?"

  Kirkland shook his head. "I'm working on it, but it's almost impossible to learn anything when we don't know her real name."

  "But we do," Grainger said. "That Kennedy guy, he asked for a warrant in the name Vivian Carlotti. That's got to be Becks' real name."

  Kirkland offered a slight nod. "I checked that out. Vivian was fifteen when her father was convicted of embezzlement and corporate espionage. Her family lost their fortune overnight and were forced to live in a two-bedroom apartment while he was on trial. It was a media circus. Vivian was right there in the middle of it for the first few months, but then she disappeared. I can't find much else on her, but I'm looking."

  "Maybe her father was involved with the Mahoney's," Hank suggested.

  Kirkland nodded. "I'll keep digging."

  "Yeah, I think we should call it a night," Sutherland said, waving her hand at everyone. "Steve will be here at dawn with his deputies to start the search. We leave here at six."

  They all nodded, some of them touching her arm or shoulder before they left the room. Kirkland hung back, a look of discomfort on his face.

  "You need to be prepared for the possibility that this won't end well."

  Sutherland ran her hands over her face, fighting back the emotions that were surging through her. It was mostly anger and she really didn't want to take her anger out on Kirkland. She knew he was just trying to help in his gruff, impersonal sort of way. But she really wanted to hit him.

  "We don't know a lot about Becky's past. It's possible there's more going on here than we think."

  "Like she's part of this drug cartel?"

  Kirkland tilted his head slightly. "I saw the background check you ran on her. There wasn't much there."

  "That was none of your business!"

  "I'm tagged on everything that goes through those computers. I'm the administrator, remember?"

  "Yeah, well, maybe we need to change that."

  "Sutherland, I'm just saying—"

  "You're saying that my friend is a liar. You're saying she might be some sort of criminal instead of a woman on the run from a corrupt government agent!" She shook her head. "You of all people...you're always preaching about how the members of Gray Wolf are family and how we need to rely on one another. Well, Becky's my family. You need to respect that!"

  He inclined his head, this odd sort of grief coming into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I was just..."

  She shook her head. "It's time for you to think about your future here, Kirkland." She gestured around herself, gesturing at the individual desks that had been set up for the operatives, the empty places that still had to be filled in the near future. "We're on our feet now. We're running fairly smoothly. I think it's time for you and Ash to decide where your next spot will be because it doesn't feel like this is a good fit anymore."

  She walked out, aware that her words were a little below the belt. But she was angry and she was frightened and she needed someone to take it out on. She knew she'd owe him an apology in the morning, but she also knew her words weren't entirely untrue. Kirkland's position here had been meant to be temporary. He was just supposed to hang around long enough to get them set up. That was months ago. As much as she adored his wife and appreciated everything he'd done, she was ready to have some permanence around her.

  Sutherland walked to the main house and let herself in through the always unlocked backdoor that opened onto the kitchen. She dug through the cupboards looking for a bottle of tequila she'd hidden a couple of years ago, after a spontaneous purchase. She couldn't remember exactly where she'd put it because she didn't drink the heavy stuff all that often. But she knew it was here somewhere.

  "Do you know how hard you are to catch alone?"

  She spun around, wishing she had more than a couple of steak knives within easy reach. Who the hell...?

  "Bodhi?"

  He crossed the room in three long strides and took her face in his hands. "There're rumors in town that you were attacked while leading some tourists through the woods."

  "No, it wasn't me."

  "Thank God! I've been worried."

  "Why?"

  Sutherland was genuinely curious why he would worry about her. They'd had a few conversations and a couple of kisses, but nothing that would suggest there was any kind of emotional attachment. And, after their last meeting, she was surprised he'd even want to see her again, let alone worry about her.

  He frowned, his warm eyes moving over her face. "I don't know if you've noticed," he said softly, "but I kind of like you."

  "Just kind of?"

  He groaned as he moved closer, his lips brushing against hers. She could have pulled away, could have told him she didn't have time for this sort of thing in her life right now. She could have told him that she loved her husband and was still loyal to him even though he'd been dead for almost twelve years. She had told him that, just not in so many words. But in that moment, she desperately needed the compassion, the comfort. The outlet.

  She hesitated only a moment, then slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers finding their way into the thick, silky strands of hair at the back of his head. He sighed as he moved closer, his hands moving over her hips as he drew her closer, his kiss becoming more than just a friendly peck. No, there was nothing friendly about the way he was kissing her now and he tasted like coffee and brandy, just the way she'd always imagined a good man would taste.

  A wealthy man.

  There'd once been a time when Sutherland spent a lot of time fantasizing about the kind of man she's fall in love with. As a foster child, she dreamt about salvation nearly every night of her childhood. When she was small, it was fantasies of her parents—some sort of tragic misunderstanding causing them to abandon her in that hardware store—in which they would surprise her one day by coming to save her, coming to take her back to the forever home that should have always been hers. But when she became a teen, reality began to seep in. That's when the fantasies about some prince began. She'd meet a wonderful man who'd smell like sandalwood and taste like coffee and/or brandy, a man who'd whisk her away and give her the life she'd always wanted.

  It was never too late for fantasies to come true.

  He lifted her and set her on the edge of the counter, moving close enough that she could feel the sharp edge of his hip bone pressing into her thigh. And his hands, warm and strong, slid under the bottom edge of her loose-fitting blouse, slipping up over her ribs, making her suck in her belly a little harder than she'd done in a long time. His lips slid over her jaw, down along the curve of her throat, his teeth sending shivers of pleasure through her body as they nibble at the tender skin there. She pulled him closer, her h
and on the back of his head, sighing as parts of her body she'd thought had died with Mitchell suddenly burst back into life.

  How long had it been since she'd felt this way? How long had it been since she'd allowed herself to abandon everything but this?

  Sutherland leaned back, exposing her chest to this man, exposing parts of her soul that she hadn't shared with anyone since Mitchell. The heat of his breath against her skin, the feel of his hands against her flesh... her shirt was sliding upward, ready to hit the floor at any moment, her fingers tangled in his hair, moving down to tug at his shirt, to feel the heat of his skin. He was so different from Mitchell, leaner, but just as hard, just as masculine. And the way he looked at her when he pulled back, when his focus moved back to her mouth.

  They kissed again, his hands back to her hips, tugging her forward. She could feel his need, could feel how touching her excited him. It added to her pleasure, added to the rush burning through her. This was Bodhi Archer, this was the current Hollywood hunk, the man all women wanted. This was the man whose picture elicited moans from every heterosexual woman in the Northern hemisphere. This was... oh, God, did it really matter? This was the man who wanted her and she so desperately wanted him.

  She was lifting his shirt again, his bottom lip caught between her teeth, when reality suddenly came crashing down around her.

  "Sutherland? I, uh... oh, hell! I'm sorry!"

  Mabel.

  Sutherland untangled herself from Bodhi and jumped down to the floor, tugging at her blouse to settle it back in place.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked, clearing her throat between her words.

  "The girls asked that you come up and tuck them in. They've seen the cars outside... I think they have an idea that something's wrong."

  Sutherland nodded, realizing she hadn't bothered to talk to her daughter or Becky's child, hadn't bothered to explain the situation, or to come up with some sort of plausible explanation for the chaos going on around them. And, in less than six hours, there would be half a dozen police cars parked outside their bedroom window.