Brotherhood Protectors: Texas Ranger Rescue (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Cynthia D'Alba

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Chase. Touching your face is such a violation of your personal space. Sometimes my people skills are lacking because I can’t see the nonverbal stuff, so I say or do something a sighted person would never do.”

  She stood, but he couldn’t let her leave, couldn’t let her think she’d done anything wrong because she hadn’t. He grabbed her hand.

  “Wait. Sit. I need to explain.”

  She sat and turned toward him.

  “This is hard, so bear with me. When I was overseas, there was an accident. I was injured.”

  “Oh, Chase, the bomb. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not done. I was badly burned, Fi. I have…scars. Bad scars. On my face and body.”

  She caught his face between her hands. “Let me look. Trust me.”

  He nodded, his words failing him.

  She slid her fingers down his cheeks, across his eyes, over his forehead, and dragged her thumb along the seam in his lips.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  “No, no, I’m not.” He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “To me, you’re perfect. I see with my fingers.” She stroked his undamaged cheek. “This is smooth, except for your five-o’clock shadow.” Her finger lightly traced the scar on the other side. “This side is like a roadmap. It says to me that this man has lived. He’s been fearless and brave. He fought a battle and won.” She glided her hand down his unspoiled cheek. “This side doesn’t tell me a story, except that you need to shave.”

  He chuckled, and laid his hands over hers. “My arms have scars. My chest has scars.”

  “Just more story telling by your body.” She put her hand on his chest. “You’re what’s inside here, not the wrapper than covers it.” Leaning toward him, she said, “Will you kiss me? Please?”

  Chapter Four

  Bobby stood in the bitch’s bedroom door watching her sleep. Her oh-so-protective German Shepard snored beside her. Could be the dog’s age, or could be that Bobby had slipped some tranquilizer into the mutt’s food. He silently snorted to himself.

  Taking a long puff on his pipe, he let the smoke drift into the room.

  Suck on that, beeyotch.

  She moaned and rolled onto her side. He froze in place. Then she giggled. Stupid woman was probably thinking about that disgusting display of lust on her sofa earlier tonight. She’d climbed all over that guy like the whore she was. It was gross. His mother, so proper and upright when she was in her right mind, would have been appalled. And his sister didn’t chase after guys and throw herself at them. This one was repulsive.

  Once he was sure she was out, he headed up to the third floor recording studio. When he finished his book’s narration, he’d release the digital, print, and audio simultaneously. Watch out New York Times. He’d hit the top of the list like a motherfucker.

  And then this house and everything in it would be his…as it should have been.

  ***

  Fiona awoke slowly, the ever familiar aroma of pipe tobacco scenting her room. Today, she didn’t care about her ghost, or whatever it was. She was going on her first motorcycle ride. Giggling, she hugged the extra pillow on her bed and relived last night. Holy crap, that man could kiss—not that she had that much experience with kissing.

  She’d almost died when she’d asked him to kiss her. Where had her nerve come from? Never ever in her life had she done that. But she had, and ohmigod, she was so glad she had.

  He put his hands over hers on his face and then his warm breath caressed her lips seconds before he touched his mouth to hers. If she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would have buckled.

  His lips had been full and hot against hers. He slid his hands up her arms until his fingers threaded into her hair. Totally controlled the kiss, he’d moved her head to take the kiss deeper. When he flicked his tongue against her lips, she opened, gladly welcoming the stroke along her tongue and then her teeth.

  Someone moaned.

  Oops. It was her.

  Her heart raced. She got lightheaded as all the blood left her brain. Between her thighs, she throbbed.

  Her hands acted as though they had a mind of their own, sliding down his face to his chest. Oh dear lord. She could have been petting concrete…hot concrete. Hard, muscles filled her hands. With his breaths deepening, her fingers moved and caressed those slabs.

  She probably shouldn’t have, but she’d moved her hands down to the hem of his shirt and eased them under. Oh heavens. If she thought he was hot over his shirt, under it was like pushing her fingers into a human furnace.

  And she found not just heat but the most delicious ripples along his abdomen. She skated her fingers up and down and over the ridges, causing the ache between her legs to intensify.

  Chase kissed along her cheek and down to her neck before working his way back up to her ear.

  “We better stop,” he said, his words sending shivers down her spine.

  “Why?” She kissed the dip at the base of his throat. “I don’t want to stop.”

  She pushed his shirt higher until she could put her mouth where her hands had been. When she scooted closer, her forearm rested on the rock-hard erection behind his zipper.

  His hands grabbed her shoulders and he gently pushed her away. “We need to stop,” he said again. “Now.”

  “And if I don’t want to?”

  His fingers stroked her face. “Either we stop now, or I’m going to carry you up to your bedroom and strip off every piece of your clothing.”

  Her belly tugged at his words. Arousal dampened her panties.

  “Okay,” she said and put her lips back on his flesh.

  He chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. “Think about this first, Fi. If you still want this tomorrow, then it’s a done deal.”

  Sitting back with a loud, exasperated sigh, she’d said, “Okay, but I don’t like it.”

  This morning, in her bedroom, she kicked her legs in the air at the thought of tonight. Sex! Sex with Chase Adams.

  Some fantasies do come true.

  She put clean sheets on her bed and hoped like hell they matched. Usually Lori or one of the housekeepers made her bed. She’d told them exactly where and how she wanted the sheet sets stored. The sheets were stored where she’d wanted, but she couldn’t be sure the sheets had been stored in coordinated sets as she’d requested.

  Still, if they didn’t match, she didn’t think Chase would care one way or the other.

  The only real question she had was…should she tell him she’d never done this before?

  She took a little more care with her morning routine than usual, making sure she scrubbed everywhere during her shower. In her closet, she picked out jeans, a tank, a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of boots, all based on Chase’s suggestions. Now, standing in her kitchen waiting for him, the army of butterflies in her stomach were fluttering. She pressed one hand against her stomach while her other one fluffed at her hair. Wasn’t it nine yet?

  At that thought, the rumble of a motorcycle roared up her drive. He was here.

  Her butterflies did more than flit at the sound.

  She hurried to the side door and opened it. “Chase?”

  “No ma’am,” Chase said. “I’m part of a rowdy motorcycle gang. I’ve been ordered to kidnap you.”

  Putting her hand to her lips, she giggled. “Well, if you’ve been ordered…”

  “Exactly.” The engine stopped. “How are you this morning?”

  “Good. Well, a little nervous and a whole bunch excited.”

  “I thought maybe you’d like to feel around before we took off.”

  Her loud laugh burst pulled a booming howl from him. He kept chuckling as he watched her wiping away tears of laughter.

  “Hmm…that is an interesting, um, offer,” she said when she quieted.

  “I was talking about the motorcycle. Other types of feeling around is for later.” He paused to clear his throat. “Now, back to the bike. The engin
e is still warm, so I’ll keep your hands away from that, but I thought you’d like to explore just a little.”

  With that, she took his elbow and allowed him to guide her to the bike. There, he took her hand and placed it on the leather rider’s seat. Her hand was so small in his gargantuan one. Soft too, where his were always rough. But somehow, when he looked at their two hands, they seemed to go together like pieces of a puzzle.

  Now he was being ridiculous. Pieces of a puzzle. He had to stop watching those nighttime soaps.

  “I sit here.” He guided her hand along the curve of the seat until they reached the rear seat. “This is your seat.”

  “You mean I don’t get to drive?”

  “First, you don’t drive a motorcycle and second, do you have a driver’s license?”

  “It might have expired.”

  He chuckled. “Then, no. I’m riding in the front. You’re riding on the back.”

  “But we have helmets, right?”

  “Of course.” He put the fiberglass helmet between her hands. “This is yours.”

  “Is it pink and pretty?”

  He looked at the black fiberglass with blue flames along the side. Dinged up from years of abuse.

  “Um, sure. That’s exactly right.”

  She snorted and pushed the bulky helmet on her head. “Sexy, right?”

  She had no idea just how right she was. She did look sexy standing there in tight jeans and cowboy boots.

  “Of course. Want me to lock up? Does Huck need out before we leave?”

  “He doesn’t. He’s been in and out a couple of times, and yes, please lock the door.”

  Tasks done, he came back to where she stood waiting.

  “The bike is on a stand, so I’m going to help you on first and then I’ll get on.”

  “Got it.”

  Surprisingly, after minimum explanation, she swung her leg over the bike and seated herself. The only problem was that she seated herself in the rider area, not the passenger area.

  “We had this discussion. I get the front seat and the handlebars. You get the back seat, so scoot.”

  She laughed. “Oops. Sorry. Guess we can’t share the space.”

  He studied the tiny seat, imagined her in his lap, and a few gallons of blood left his head for his groin.

  “Um, no.”

  She wiggled backwards while he steadied the bike. Once she was in place, he climbed on, fired up the engine and they took off down her drive. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her hands clutching his shirt. Even with the wind whizzing past, he was ensconced in her floral scent. Not a perfume smell. More like fresh flowers. Was it her bath soap?

  He didn’t really care where it came from. He did, however, have a slight problem with the fact he liked her arms hugging him while he was cocooned in her scent. It was playing havoc with his libido.

  And frankly, riding a jarring motorcycle with a raging hard-on was a tad uncomfortable.

  However, the laughter behind him, the arms snug around his waist, and just being with Fiona made any discomfort worth the effort.

  The ride to the Rise and Shine Diner took about forty-five minutes. When he pulled to a stop in the parking lot, she squeezed him.

  “No! I don’t want to stop.”

  “You’re not interested in fluffy pancakes, gallons of coffee, crisp bacon, and hot biscuits with butter and jelly?”

  He heard her stomach growl.

  “Enough,” she said with a laugh. “You had me at fluffy pancakes.”

  Over breakfast, they talked about work, growing up, the weather, and just about any topic except tonight. He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. His dreams, both day and night, had been highly erotic and downright filthy with sexual images. Most of the time, he walked around with a semi-erection all day.

  However, he noticed that she didn’t broach the subject either. Maybe she’d cooled off and changed her mind. People were allowed to do that.

  And he hated to think this, but it was possible—maybe even probable—that, even though she couldn’t see them, touching his scars and knowing there were more, she’d become turned off at the idea. He couldn’t blame her. Hell, he hated looking in the mirror every morning when he shaved. He’d tried to grow a beard. What a disaster. Patchy and red, of all things! He’d given up after a month, but maybe he’d try again.

  Anything to hide his scars.

  The ride back to Fi’s house was the exact same torture as the ride to the café. He thought about delaying the end by taking a longer route, but he’d promised her they’d be home by noon and he was cutting the time close as it was.

  “Thank you,” she said as soon as she was off and standing in her drive. “That was so much fun. I loved the feel of the wind and the sound of things passing us.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  “I expected it to be louder. Didn’t you say it was a Harley? I thought those were deafening. I didn’t expect to be able to talk to you during the ride. ”

  He chuckled. “Not all Harleys are loud. They have to be modified to sound like that. This one wasn’t. I don’t really want a loud bike.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer to her ear. “Loud bikes disturb my karma.”

  She grinned and his heart swelled, much like his cock was. Not good. He needed to work this afternoon. If all his blood was trapped in his heart and dick, there’d be none left for his brain.

  “Well, I loved it,” she announced. “Coming in?”

  “I’ll be back later. I need to spend a couple of hours in the production booth.”

  “My book?”

  “Yes and no. Some on your book. Some on my podcast. And a little time for a project for Sadie’s husband, Hank.”

  She nodded. “Sure. Use whatever of mine you want.”

  He wanted to bang his head on the door. Did she hear what she’d said? She didn’t mean it sexually, but try and tell that to his out-of-control cock.

  He grimaced, waiting to adjust himself, but wondering if the shadows she could see would expose his telltale action. “I’m going to take the motorcycle back and see what kind of deal I can make. I’ll be back when I can.”

  “Good luck.”

  ***

  Because he paid cash, the whole buying process took only a little over an hour. By one-thirty, he was back at Fiona’s house and ready to settle down to work, but it was going to be difficult. He was so excited about his new wheels.

  For the next three hours, he labored uninterrupted. It was the middle of the afternoon before he heard the elevator activate. Shortly, the door slid open, and Fi and Huck walked out.

  “Chase? You’re still up here, right?”

  “Yep. In production.”

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Nope. I’ve just finished putting my podcast online and was sitting here thinking about what we need to get done over the next few weeks.”

  She leaned against the door frame. “We’re behind, aren’t we?”

  “A little. Not much. I think we can make up some time. I’m not worried. You’ll have a finished audiobook well before your deadline.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “You have dinner plans?”

  “I do.”

  “Oh.” Her voice dropped in disappointment, and she sagged a little.

  He felt bad for teasing her. “With you.”

  “Oh.” She straightened and smiled. “You’re bad.”

  “Totally.”

  “I think I might like bad boys.”

  “I’m not a boy, Fi.” He voice dipped low.

  “Yeah, but bad boy is so much sexier than bad men.”

  He laughed. “Spoken like a woman.”

  “Good, cause I am.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  She canted her head. “Have you?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Tonight…um…”

  “No pressure, Fi.” He rose and took her in his arms. “We’ll do or not do whatever you want. You’r
e in charge.”

  She blew out a long breath and he smelled the mint toothpaste. She’d brushed her teeth before she came up to talk to him. He was flattered. His probably smelled like old coffee mixed with the cinnamon from his mints. Not a good combo.

  “Can I take you to dinner?” he asked. “Restaurant. White table cloths. Snobby waiters. The whole shebang.”

  She found his face with her hands and pulled him down for a long, deep, wet kiss.

  “I’m pretty much a sure thing, Chase. You don’t have to wine and dine me.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said softly. “I want to. You deserve a nice night out.”

  “Okay then. What time?”

  ***

  He picked her up at seven, having gone back to the hotel to shower, shave, dress, and get his truck. He just didn’t think taking a date in a dress—at least he hoped she wore a dress—on the back of a bike would send the right message.

  Since their meeting, he’d spoken to Chief of Police Gruber a couple of times. Today, Gruber suggested a restaurant that he always took his wife to when he was trying to butter her up.

  The Grill Master was everything Chase was looking for and more. The tablecloths were startlingly white. The atmosphere was quietly elegant. His date—wearing an eye-knocking dress—was the best-looking woman in the place. The food was excellent. The only thing missing were snobby waiters.

  Back in the truck after dinner, Fiona groaned. “I ate too much. The filet was so tender, I think I could have used my butter knife to cut it. That might be the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  “I’m glad. Mine was good too. What you couldn’t see was that my date looked so good she put all the other women to shame.”

  He glanced over in time to see her smile and duck her head.

  “I’m sure that’s a lie but that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Then you’ve been talking to the wrong people.”

  She smiled and reached across the console to find his hand. “Thank you.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

  “Chase,” she said.

  “What, Fi?”

  “You’re driving entirely too slow.”