by Em Petrova
She blinked at him and then stuttered, “No. I just thought—”
“I know what you thought. Sorry for the teasin’. All right then. Let’s write out what we learned today and then create a plan for tomorrow and beyond.” He took a chair in the corner and drew out his notebook.
Amaryllis hesitantly seated herself next to him. He could tell by her pose that her muscles were sore. She held her shoulders stiffly and once in a while reached up to massage her neck. His guess was that guy had hit her hard, and being crushed under him on the solid earth hadn’t done her body any favors.
Aiden threw a look at the bed, feet away. It was soft, piled with country quilts and fat pillows. Plenty of comfort for rollin’ around.
His cock throbbed and for a second, he couldn’t focus on the notebook page in front of him.
“9:45,” Amaryllis said.
He glanced at her. “What?”
“The time when that happened. 9:45. When we checked out the shed.”
His mind had blanked, and all he could think about was giving Amaryllis a nine minute, forty-five second orgasm.
He wrote the detail.
“At eleven you were eating your second pancake. Make note of that.” Her tone was completely serious as she gestured to the page.
He issued a low growl. “You might think it’s fine to keep track of everything in your head.” He tapped his temple the way she had when he’d asked how she remembered details. “But some of us do it this way.”
Her brown eyes twinkled with a smile long before her lips quirked upward. His breath punched out of his lungs. Seeing Amaryllis smile, in all her disheveled beauty, only made him want to pick her up and taste her sweet lips.
Right before he tore off her clothes and taught her how good it felt to let go, to give up some of her stronghold on her control and allow him to make the decisions for her.
Like how many times she came. And how far to spread her thighs.
“I’ll finish up here. Why don’t you have a shower?” he asked.
“Um. Do you think they have an extra toothbrush at the front desk?”
“You may find a toothbrush in one of the drawers under the kitchen sink.”
She gave a wry smile. “Wonder if they have a T-shirt for me to sleep in too?”
His cock hardened to full length in one breathy word. T-shirt. Or maybe the word was sleep. Either way, all he could see now was Amaryllis, strawberry-blonde hair tousled, wearing a loose T-shirt with her long legs bare.
And him gliding his hand underneath to find her pussy, hot and wet and begging for a good tonguing. Then a hard fucking.
He grunted to cover his arousal and got up. “That I can help with. I’ve got a couple in my backpack.” He crossed the room to get it. After fumbling with the zipper—his hands were shaking, for God’s sake—he pulled out a well-worn T-shirt.
He turned to see her staring at him. A knife of want sliced open an even bigger hole inside him.
He tossed her the shirt and she caught it one-handed. “Thanks.” She held it up to read the logo.
“Eagle Crest Ranch.” The eagle logo stretched under the arching name of the place he, Judd and Wes had run like wild Indians. They still did.
Amaryllis’s warm brown gaze heated him in another way. Fuck—was there a connection between them now? He knew he shouldn’t have punched that guy for commenting on her ass. The action had linked his brain in a way he didn’t want.
“Is this your ranch you talked about?”
He gave a nod. Trying like hell not to envision her wearing that shirt. Or how horny he’d be next time he wore it, knowing her silky skin had touched the fibers.
“Grew up there. We meet every few weeks if we can get away.”
“Where is the ranch located?”
“Sweetwater County.”
She tilted her head as if conjuring a mental map of Wyoming. “An hour away?”
“From here, yeah.”
She nodded and crumpled the T-shirt against her chest. He never wanted to be a T-shirt so bad in his damn life.
“Guess I’ll grab that shower.”
“Okay.” He shouldn’t watch her walk in and close the door. Should not think of her stripping out of her skinny jeans and unbuttoning her top.
To distract himself from the sound of the running water and images of warm spray over Amaryllis’s pale skin, he wrote out more notes. He flipped on the TV and then turned it off again. He stared out the window at the deck below. The owner had turned on a set of string lights that ran the perimeter of the deck, making it a magical space. Fireflies twinkled along with them.
Dang, why was he thinking about shit like this?
Because he wanted to take Amaryllis down there and share a beer with her.
A faint crack of the bathroom door opening sounded, and he whirled from the window. Steam rolled out and she emerged. Long hair, wet and dangling over her shoulder to dampen the Eagle Crest T-shirt.
He dropped his gaze to her breasts, free and ripe, unhindered by a bra. Fucking hell.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Dipping his gaze lower, he skimmed over the hem that hung mid-thigh on her. Above that was sweet, sweet heaven. And below, curvy thighs tapered down to muscled calves and dainty ankles.
She made a noise and he snapped his gaze back to hers. She had her clothes bundled in a neat stack, and he wondered if he’d find her panties in there.
Need gathered inside him like a storm, clouds banking for a huge explosion of thunder and lightning.
“Your turn.” Her voice was throaty.
He nodded and went to gather his backpack. She hotfooted it to the bed and stripped back the covers. The last glimpse of her before he closed the bathroom door was her backside, the hem riding higher on her thighs as she bent to arrange the sheets.
* * * * *
This was the worst idea Amaryllis had ever gone along with. She should have slept in the bed of Aiden’s truck. Anything had to be better than this awkwardness of sharing a room with a man she was far too attracted to.
And, if the smolder in his gaze was anything to go by, he was too.
She was wearing his damn T-shirt, for Chrissakes. It held a piney scent just like the owner, and she’d nearly chickened out about putting it on. But her own top wasn’t long enough and no way was she wearing constricting skinny jeans to bed.
Her panties had presented another problem. She couldn’t wash them out and wearing them again after getting a shower didn’t feel right. In the end, she’d left them off. But that was a huge mistake too, because her inner thighs were damp with need.
Plus, she worried if he could see through the thin fabric and detect she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
She eyed the bed. She could be primly snuggled beneath the covers when he came out of the bathroom. Her mind fogged. What did he wear to bed?
With a sigh, she turned from the bed and walked to the closet. She gathered the bedding folded there and carried it to the floor in front of the window. She spread out two quilts on the floor for padding and fluffed the pillows before laying them down. Finally, she unfurled a quilt over the whole thing and folded it neatly for him to slide under.
She looked between his bed and hers. No denying she felt bad. Would it be so awful to share the bed? He wouldn’t take up much space.
Who was she kidding? He’d eat up every inch of the bed, leaving her clinging to the edge. Maybe she should offer at least.
The door opened. Steam flooded out. Aiden’s shower had to go down in the record books as the quickest ever. The man’s bathing habits were as no-nonsense as the rest of him.
“Looks inviting,” he drawled from the doorway.
She spun. Did he mean… her? No, he had to be talking about the bed on the floor.
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I hope it’s okay. I’m really sorry.”
“Well, I was gonna say you should have called ahead and gotten us two rooms. But I didn’t want to mention it.” His gr
in accompanied his sarcastic words.
“What would we have done if this place didn’t have a room open?”
“Driven on. I got a few good hours left in me.”
She looked closely at his face. Lined with fatigue and sporting half-moons under each eye. He’d been running on no sleep for almost two days. How was the man even standing?
That was when she noticed his arms. In a short-sleeved T-shirt, the inky lines of tattoos roped around each bicep and disappeared upward out of sight.
Her breathing picked up. What were the tattoos? She never would have suspected he sported those under his clothes. He seemed so straight-laced, old-fashioned almost. But he had been in the military, and it was commonplace for men who served to get tattooed.
She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
“Well, you must be tired.”
“You too.”
She rubbed at her neck. The cords were tense, bulging with the strain her neck had taken earlier.
Aiden took a step in her direction, drawing attention to his fresh pair of jeans. Perfectly worn, molded to his body as if made for him. “Your neck hurts. Sit down on the bed.”
His commanding tone shouldn’t send pangs of sensation between her thighs. Her pussy grew wetter.
She looked into his eyes.
“Sit,” he said more gently, softly.
She moved to the bed and perched on the corner. He came to stand in front of her, big body crowded so close that heat wafted off his body and scorched through the thin shirt she wore. She kept her knees together, though it would be easier for him to stand between her legs.
He reached out and brushed her damp hair over her shoulder. When his warm, rough fingers enveloped her sore muscle, she moaned in pure delight.
Aiden went still but she swore a shudder ripped through him. Was he feeling the same attraction and unadulterated desires she was?
This was her work colleague, her partner. They were tossed together to solve the crimes in the area. After she’d done that, she’d be on her way back to Texas and hopefully to her dream of a small farm. Which reminded her—she needed to text her brothers and let them know she’d made it fine.
The small circles Aiden traced on her neck with his fingers made thoughts of her brothers fly out her ears. She angled her head to give him better access. He moved up and down the column of her throat, dipping his fingers into the hollow of her shoulder.
She groaned.
“That’s sore too?”
She breathed out. “Yes.”
“Relax. Let me do this for you.”
She wanted to look up at his face but was afraid she’d see the want burning in his eyes. If she saw it, she didn’t know if she’d deny him. It would be so easy to let him tumble her into the sheets, open her thighs and invite him in.
Enough. I have to stop this.
“That’s good. I’m better now. Thank you.” Her words came out choppy, no gratitude in her tone.
He dropped his hands immediately and stepped back. She tested her neck by looking up at him. His chest heaved, and his square jaw set so hard it looked capable of flaying open an enemy.
“Glad it helped. I’ll hit the floor now.”
“Roshannon—” She broke off before the words escaped to ask him to sleep there next to her where it was more comfortable.
He arched a brow but said nothing.
“Good day on the job today. Goodnight.”
A spark died down in his gray eyes but they appeared even stormier than before. “Night.” He crossed the room to the pallet on the floor, shutting off lights on the way.
Had she really just praised him for a good day on the job? After their hours together, she felt there was more between them. A friendship almost, though he didn’t agree with her methods.
Aiden Roshannon was a hard man with a set of ironclad rules. She’d obviously broken most of them today. With a smile as she crawled under the covers, she realized tomorrow she might do even better at bucking his system.
As his snore hit her almost immediately, she lay staring into the darkness, her mind going a mile a minute and her body still tingling from his touch that had gone way beyond her neck.
* * * * *
Aiden started awake, eyes wide, staring into the blackness. His heart raced, pounding against his chest wall painfully as the remnants of his dream faded from his consciousness.
The village spread out below, tiny and vulnerable. Packed with innocent people. And one big building, the rooms filled with enemies.
One choice. One blast.
The order he’d refused to take. The one that had gotten him hauled home to the States and questioned for hours until he’d felt he’d crack under the pressure.
I couldn’t follow orders, sir. I couldn’t kill innocent people.
That building was full of five of the most wanted criminals on our list. They’ve kidnapped and tortured US citizens, Roshannon. What don’t you understand about that?
But the houses around that building would have been blown off the map in the blast. I couldn’t do it, sir.
And on and on.
He stood, the covers puddling on the floor. Disoriented, he turned in the dark toward the only light source—moonlight streaming in from the curtain nearby.
Everything flooded back to him—the B&B. What the hell was it called? His mind was still back in fucking Iraq. He concentrated and conjured a name.
Silverblossom. The name of the B&B where he and Amaryllis had stopped for the night.
Amaryllis.
He sought out the chairs in the corner and made his way to one. It faced the bed and by now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He sank into one and dropped his head into his hands, breathing evenly to dispel the anxiety inside him. That sensation of his skin bursting open to let the bad stuff escape wouldn’t leave him for a long time, he knew. He’d been dealing with it for a year now.
The outline of Amaryllis on the bed drew his gaze. He made out a shoulder, a soft hip rising up under the quilt. He wanted to turn on the light and see her hair scattered across the pillow, her face in repose.
A beautiful woman, so close. Invitingly close. He could crawl into bed with her and gain the comfort he needed.
Fuck that—he was a goddamn Marine with years of combat in his past. He didn’t need comfort from anybody.
Except she looked so good lying there. He could just put his arms around her, draw her body back against his.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and worked on his oxygen consumption. Too much and he’d get that dizzy, spinning feeling. If he held his breath, he only felt worse.
Sweat trickled down his bare spine, all the way to his jeans.
Five feet away, Amaryllis was wearing his T-shirt.
He must have made a noise, because she sat up suddenly. Through the darkness, they stared at each other.
“Roshannon?”
“Yeah. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.” His voice was gruff.
The covers rustled and he realized she was getting out of bed. He tensed. If she came close enough wearing only his T-shirt, he couldn’t account for his actions. The dream, his hungers and Amaryllis were all mixed up in his head. A cocktail for disaster.
Her footstep on the carpet made his fucking skin prickle. Behind his fly, his cock stirred. Fuck, he wanted her to beg for him, to hear her cries of pleasure-pain and give him all the control inside this bedroom that he craved.
She stepped up to him. He locked his hands on the armrests of the chair and sat all the way back. “Go back to bed, Amaryllis.”
“What’s going on? You don’t sound okay.”
Because I’m not. I want to fuck you so hard that you’ll never be fit for another man the rest of your life.
She stood inches away, long hair floating around her torso in a riot of waves. A bead of moonlight on her bare thighs.
She reached out and skimmed a touch over each of his biceps. He jerked.
“Your tattoos… All day, I never knew th
ey were there.”
“Well, now you do.” And if you don’t get your hands off me, you’ll be sorry. We’ll both be sorry, woman.
“Can I turn on the light?”
“No,” he said at once. If he got one clear look into her eyes, he’d be a goner. He’d pick her up, toss her on the bed and spear her with his cock. Fucking away all the pain and hunger burning inside him.
But she wouldn’t like him in the morning. Hell, she didn’t like him now.
And he’d hate himself.
She continued to stand there, touching him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and itchy.
“We’ll catch the rustlers, Roshannon.”
A noise broke from him. Christ, she thought he was sitting up worrying about the job. But now that she’d mentioned it, his mind hit the ground running, covering the ground of the case they’d been following the previous day and what might come on day two of the auction.
Amaryllis stroked her fingers over his arms, shooting sparks of liquid desire through his entire body. He felt like he’d been dunked in an electrified pool of water, helpless and sinking by the minute.
She moved her hands up to his shoulders, rock-hard with tension. She kneaded the muscles.
He shrugged her off. “Stop.”
“Sometimes I hate traveling. Waking up in a strange room, wondering where the hell I am and what I’m supposed to be doing.” Her whispered admission slammed him. “Do you ever feel that way?”
“Fuck, woman. You need to go back to bed.”
She didn’t move. Contrary woman that she was. Spirited, stubborn. And everything he fucking wanted, if he was honest with himself.
One day and he wanted her. He’d met her face-to-face less than twenty-four fucking hours ago, and he was ready to claim her in ways that neither of them could never go back on.
“Aiden…”
The sound of his name on her lips did him in. He caught her by the hips and jerked her down on his lap. Her ass fit his body perfectly, cradling his cock, now hard at the first contact.
She made a noise of surprise, and he found the point of her chin in the darkness. Pinching it lightly, he tipped her head up to meet his gaze. Her face was mostly in shadow, her eyes shiny.
