Cowboy & the Captive

by Lora Leigh

  She slammed the washer lid closed.

  “I am not this insane,” she mumbled to herself. “God, I have to have more self-control than this.”

  “I don’t know, Cat. If you start answering yourself, though, I’d worry if I were you.”

  Melina swung around, her eyes widening in mortification, her body flushing in embarrassment as she stared back at the object of her insanity.

  Luc leaned casually against the doorframe to the washroom, his gray eyes glinting with amusement, a smile quirking those eat-’em-up lips. That full lower lip was as tempting as chocolate and she knew his kiss was anything but sweet. It was hot and wild and mind destroying and she wanted to feast on it.

  “I thought you were outside,” she snapped, turning quickly away from him to check the clothes in the dryer before turning it on with a quick flip of the switch.

  “I was.” She could hear the shrug in his voice.

  A second later she heard him move closer. She tensed, though her pussy began to weep in serious distress. That particular part of her body was not pleased with her reticence in jumping his bones. It really wasn’t fair, she thought. Men like Luc Jardin should seriously be outlawed for the good of all females.

  He was too close. She could smell him. She straightened the containers of fabric softener, laundry detergent and various stain removers as she fought the racing of her heart, the tightening of her nipples. Why did he have to be so damned gentle last night? If he had been a bastard, she could have resisted him, could have reminded herself how mean and rude and totally irrational he was.

  “Cat.” His chest brushed her back as she drew in a long, hard breath. “You feel it too, baby. It won’t just go away.”

  She shook her head, denying him, denying herself.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it was to just hold you last night?” he asked her. “Your hard little nipples burned holes in my chest, even through that shirt. I bet I have the singe marks to prove it.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile that begged to curve her lips, but she kept her back to him, trembling, jerking in response when he kissed her bare shoulder. The sleeveless tank top was no defense against him. The gauzy slip-skirt she wore with it suddenly seemed too heavy, too restricting. She wanted to get naked with him. Wanted to roll across beds and floors and tables and scream in pleasure as he fucked her sillier than she must already be.

  “I have half an hour before a buyer shows up,” he murmured, his lips brushing over her bare skin once again. “Plenty of time, baby, to show you how good it could be.”

  Oh hell. Like he had to tell her anything. Even her womb was rippling with pleading little tremors. Her panties would have to be changed. And she didn’t dare turn around because her nipples were about to pop through the cloth of her shirt, they were so damned hard. Yep, she was in trouble here.

  “I have to clean…something.” She rolled her eyes at the betraying squeak in her voice. Silly twit, she accused herself.

  “Hmm.” The soft hum against her neck had her shuddering in response.

  “Luc, please…” She licked her suddenly dry lips as she fought to hold onto her control. “This isn’t the wisest course of action here.”

  “Do you know how sexy that little skirt looks?” He ignored her statement as his hands gripped her, one smoothing down her thigh. “I’ve denied myself all day, Cat. Turn around, baby, and tell me why I shouldn’t raise that flimsy excuse for a covering and push my cock as deep inside your sweet pussy as I can get it.”

  Why he shouldn’t? There was a reason why he shouldn’t?

  Twit.

  She flipped around, opened her mouth to say…something, she was certain, though she quickly forgot what as his lips covered hers. He lifted her against his chest, his arms coming around her, causing her to whimper at the warmth, the security of being enfolded so snugly against him.

  Her lips opened to him, her tongue meeting his with a speed and hunger that she knew should have shocked her. Her hands went to his hair. All that long, thick black silk hiding beneath his Stetson. The Stetson was pushed quickly out of the way—who the hell cared where it landed?

  Could fingertips have orgasms? Her fingers flexed; the flesh covering them rioted with pleasure at the feel of the cool, incredibly soft strands they suddenly gripped.

  His lips ate at hers, but she dined in return. Hard, deep kisses that drew the breath from her body and left her dependent on him alone for survival. His head tilted, his lips slanting over hers as he growled into the kiss and lifted her further.

  “Luc…” She tore her lips from his, crying out his name in dazed pleasure as she felt the cool metal of the washer beneath her bare butt. Thongs were no protection.

  Her head fell back as his lips moved down her neck. His tongue was a demon. It licked as his lips created a delicate suction along the sensitive points of the column of flesh. One hand smoothed beneath her skirt, spreading her thighs, drawing ever closer to the hot center of need that tormented her.

  “God, you’re like a flame,” he groaned as his other hand, sneaky, diabolical, gripped the hem of her shirt and jerked it over her swollen breasts. “Sweet heaven,” he muttered harshly. “Cat, baby…”

  Melina opened her eyes, staring into his flushed, lustful face and she swore she nearly came in that second. Had any man ever looked at her with such hunger and need? Never, she quickly answered herself. Not at any time.

  “Bad idea…” She trembled as his hand cupped the full curve, his thumb rasping over the sensitized tip. She wasn’t about to make him stop.

  “Good idea,” he denied. “Best damned idea I ever had.”

  His lips covered the engorged peak and Melina lost the last bit of common sense she might have originally possessed as the heat of his mouth surrounded her needy nipple.

  Could she bear the pleasure? She arched to him, a thin wail escaping her lips as her fingers sank deeper into his hair, holding his head to her as he suckled at the tight flesh deeply. Her legs tightened on his hips as he jerked her closer, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against the swollen mound of her pussy.

  Ah God, it was too good. His teeth nibbled at the hard peak his mouth surrounded, his tongue lashing at it with fiery demand before he sucked at it firmly once again. She couldn’t stay still. Couldn’t stop her hands from holding him closer, her hips from moving, rubbing her cunt against the hot wedge of flesh behind the tight fit of denim. Her clit was swollen, throbbing, so agonizingly sensitive she knew it would take very little to send her exploding into orgasm.

  “God. I’m going to end up fucking you blind on this damned washer,” he muttered as he drew back, despite her attempts to hold him to her.

  She was supposed to protest that? She shuddered as he pushed her skirt higher, his thumbs edging around the elastic at the side of her lacy panties. She was dying with anticipation, her pussy saturated with it as she stared back at him in dazed awareness of exactly where this was heading.

  “I want to taste you,” he whispered as his fingers delved beneath the lace slowly, pulling it to the side as his other hand rose to press her back until her shoulders touched the wall behind the washer. “Just like this, baby. Just a taste…”

  His tongue swiped through the hot slit of her cunt, curled around her clit then traveled back down to suddenly plunge into the entrance of her vagina as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

  “Oh God! Luc!” He would kill her. She didn’t have the experience to combat this, didn’t have the self-control to deny it.

  “Mmm.” The sound of male pleasure, the feel of his tongue fucking inside her was nearly too much. She was reaching, desperate…oh God, she was so close. Her hands were in his hair again, holding him to her as he ate her with such sensual abandon that she felt lost in the headlong flight to wherever he was determined to push her. Insanity, she imagined. Complete, hedonistic mindlessness.

  His tongue was a weapon of sensual torture. It flickered in and out of her vagina, licking up the shallow cleft
to torment her swollen clit, his lips covering it, suckling it, his tongue rasping over it. She was seconds from an orgasm. She could feel it building in her womb, her nerve endings gathering themselves for the explosion to come.

  “Hey Luc, where the hell are you?” She froze at the sound of the unfamiliar voice echoing through the house. “Dammit, boy, thought you wanted to sell those horses.”

  Luc jerked back. As he looked up at her in surprise, Melina felt her womb contract in vicious need at the sight of his lips glistening with the proof of her arousal.

  “Fuck.” His voice was brutally rough with lust, his eyes nearly black as he straightened quickly.

  He pulled her shirt down quickly, then her skirt. Grabbing a clean cloth from the rack over the washer, he quickly dried his lower face, his expression rueful as he stared back at her.

  “Sam August,” he muttered. “Hell. Get presentable, baby. That’s one ole boy you don’t want to tempt.”

  “Well hell, no wonder you didn’t answer.” Amused and blatantly confident, the laughing male voice was like a splash of ice water to Melina’s hormones.

  The big cowboy suddenly framed in the doorway was breathtakingly handsome. Laughing blue eyes watched them in amusement as sensual lips curved upward in response to Luc’s curse. “Should I come back later?”

  “You should get your ass back in the kitchen until I get there,” Luc snapped, frowning at Melina’s surprised look.

  Sam August laughed quietly. “That’s okay, Luc, Heather would have my balls if I even considered it. Do what you have to do and get out here. I brought her with me and she gets a mite impatient if she has to wait too long.”

  Melina looked between the two men in astonishment as Luc helped her from the washer, shielding her body with his as though trying to hide her from the other man.

  “Maria Angeles, right?” Sam craned his neck to see around Luc. “Hell, son, she don’t look tough enough to be a criminal…”

  The kick Melina delivered to Luc’s shin was anything but weak as she pushed past him and moved for the doorway. Fury engulfed her. Damn him to hell and back.

  “What the hell…” Luc stared down at her with a glimmer of his own anger. “What was that for?”

  Rather than answering him, she turned back to his friend.

  “Maria Angeles, my ass,” she informed Sam heatedly. “Try Melina or I’ll take your head off right after I get finished taking his off. Now, excuse me while I go try to find my sanity. I’m sure it’s floating around here somewhere.”

  She stalked from the washroom past a surprised Sam August, her head held high as she mentally kicked herself for ever believing, for even a second, that there was a chance in hell that Luc Jardin could have even considered suspecting she wasn’t Maria. Hell, he had even told his friends about her. And only God knew what he had told them.

  Twit, she accused herself again. And it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it. She had fallen into Luc’s hands like the silly ninny he thought she was. And this time, she couldn’t even blame it all on him. She had done everything but beg for the humiliation. Twit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Melina had every intention of rushing straight upstairs as she cursed herself for her lapse in common sense. And she would have, if she hadn’t nearly run over the slender redhead who had her head buried in the depths of the nearly empty refrigerator.

  “Oh. Hello.” The other woman straightened and flashed Melina a bright smile before glancing back at the cavernous interior of the appliance. “I’m convinced Jardin is a vampire. The man has to exist on some sort of nourishment, but you never see anything in his fridge.” She gestured to the half empty gallon of milk, a few jars of pickles and a full package of lunchmeat.

  “That’s because his cooking abilities are zero.” Melina reached up and jerked open the upper freezer to display the myriad TV dinners, and frozen entrees he kept stored there.

  “Oh.” Her expression seemed to drop as she sighed in disappointment. “I knew I should have made Sam stop at the hamburger joint in town.” She closed the door and stuck out her hand. “I’m Heather August. You must be Luc’s kidnap victim. You know, it’s against the laws of the Geneva Council to starve prisoners. You should mention this to Luc.”

  Melina shook her hand automatically as she stared back into the amused green eyes regarding her. Heather August wasn’t much taller than Melina. She had a healthy, wholesome appearance, clear creamy skin with only a scattering of freckles across her nose. Long red hair, pulled back from her face and bound into an intricate braid that fell past her shoulder blades, hinted at a temper that was nowhere in sight at the moment. She was dressed in jeans and a loose, dark blue silk blouse.

  Her hands were propped on her hips as she regarded Melina curiously.

  “Amazes me how everyone knows and yet I’m still stuck here. Kidnapping is against the law,” Melina grunted as she stood aside for Luc and Sam to enter the room.

  “So is drug running,” Luc retorted as he passed her. “Beats prison. Remember?”

  Heather laughed softly before Melina could snap out a reply to Luc. “If I thought you were in any danger, I would kick his ass myself. But I have to admit, you’re not what I expected. You’re definitely not the drug runner type.”

  Melina felt like rolling her eyes. “Could be because I’m not a drug runner.” She cast Luc a hateful glance as he followed her into the kitchen. “Exactly who all have you told anyway? If I find out the law enforcement in this God forsaken…wherever I am…knows about this, I’m not going to be happy.”

  Luc arched his brow mockingly as his dark gray eyes filled with amusement.

  “I haven’t seen the sheriff in a few weeks, actually. I didn’t get around to telling him about it.”

  “Why not just take out a damned newspaper ad?” Melina snapped temperamentally. “Then you wouldn’t have to remember to tell anyone.”

  Luc chuckled, though Sam and Heather both seemed to watch her curiously.

  “A newspaper ad isn’t nearly as fast as some people’s wagging tongues,” Sam laughed. “Luckily for Luc, we’re trustworthy.” He turned to Luc then. “Let’s go do some horse trading. Maybe your woman will have pity on mine and fix something edible. Those frozen dinners are gonna kill you, boy.”

  Melina crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the two men furiously. “I am not his woman. He didn’t court me, he kidnapped me.”

  “The best marriages in the west started that way.” Sam shrugged, then chuckled when his wife’s fist landed on his thick shoulder. “That’s my cue to go.” He turned to Luc. “Let’s go check out my horseflesh, Luc, before I get myself in trouble.”

  Melina watched Luc, her eyes narrowing as he struggled to hide his own grin and followed Sam from the house. She wanted to hate him, wanted to blame him, but the more time she spent with him the less she looked forward to him learning the truth of who she was. And that only made her madder. Though the anger was directed more at herself now than at Luc.

  “He’s a hard man, but he’s a good man.” Heather’s voice suddenly interrupted her musings. “And I think he’s a little bit fonder of you than perhaps he’s letting on.”

  Melina sighed and looked over at the other woman. “You’re hungry?” She ignored Heather’s observation.

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “I just like to hassle him over it. He never eats properly.”

  Melina snorted. “The man can’t boil water safely. Thankfully, he kidnapped someone who does know how to cook. How about some coffee and cinnamon rolls instead?”

  “Sounds great. Can I do anything to help?” Heather asked as Melina moved to the coffee maker and began making a fresh pot.

  “The rolls were baked this morning and coffee won’t take but a few minutes.” Melina shrugged. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll have it ready soon.”

  Silence filled the small room as Melina prepared the coffee, removed the cups from the cabinet and set out the fresh baked rolls she had fixed that mor
ning. It took only minutes for the coffee to brew; during that time Melina laid out small saucers, sugar and cream and endured Heather’s narrow-eyed perusal.

  She wondered what Luc had told the couple about her. Of course, they would have known about Maria’s part in the shooting two years before. Luc seemed rather close to the other man, so she had no doubt that Sam August knew about it. There had also been a glimmer of resentment in the other man’s eyes when he watched her. He was polite, a bit mocking maybe, but she could tell he was concerned about Luc.

  Heather seemed more direct, though she had yet to say anything. She merely watched as Melina prepared the coffee, poured it into oversized cups and then returned to the table.

  “You’re the sister,” Heather finally said softly. “You’re not Maria.”

  Surprised, Melina stared over at the other woman.

  “Luc swears there isn’t a sister,” she said sarcastically. “So you must be wrong.”

  Heather laughed gently. “I would say Luc spent very little time researching his subject. The minute Sam told me what Luc had done I got on the computer. I have to admit, I’m glad he didn’t kidnap Maria. She would have made certain he went to prison for it.”

  “And you think I won’t?” Melina asked coolly as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

  Heather tilted her head to the side and regarded her for long moments.

  “I don’t think you will. I think you’re more likely to fuck him silly than you are to see him locked up behind bars.”

  Melina could feel the heat filling her face and knew she was flushing in both embarrassment and knowledge. The other woman was far too perceptive.

  “I’m more likely to kill him myself.” She sighed. “Do you intend to help me convince him he has the wrong woman?”

  Heather leaned back in her chair and watched her silently. Melina found that those green eyes could be uncomfortably focused as she stared back at her.