Colton Family Rescue

by Justine Davis

  “You promised quick,” she said breathlessly, thinking she was going to scream if she didn’t have him in the next instant. “Hurry.”

  “I don’t have a condom,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

  “Don’t need it,” she said. “I’m on something.”

  She had been ever since Emma, just in case. Even though she had no intention of getting involved with anyone, she lived in a big city and anything could happen. But right now she was in no mood to explain; she wanted only one thing and she wanted it now. She wanted him now.

  She said it, in a voice she barely recognized as her own. He made a low sound that was practically a growl. And then he rolled, taking her with him, until his back was to the straw and she was atop him.

  “Then take me,” he answered, his voice as tautly strung as her own.

  She hadn’t expected it, but some still barely functioning part of her brain told her she should have. He would want to be very sure, would want no regrets. What better way than to give her the lead?

  And then even that part of her brain shut down as she reached for him and guided him inside her. The blunt probe of his flesh, so familiar and yet so long missed, sent a new wave of shudders through her. She sank down on him, gasping anew as he filled her, inch by inch. It had been a very long time—four years, to be exact—for her, and it felt new all over again.

  She lost herself in the wonder of it, the sweetness of it, and the glory of feeling whole again at last as her body recognized him and responded with a searing heat. When he was in her to the hilt, she heard him swear, but it was a worshipful sound that had nothing to do with the word but everything to do with the sensations that were building. He reached up and grabbed her hips, locking her to him. A cry escaped her, of pleasure, relief and joy.

  “Yes,” he hissed out.

  And then they were moving, together, flesh stroking flesh, until she was nearly screaming with the building pressure. She rocked on him, savoring the fullness, the stretching. Yet still it wasn’t enough. She wanted his weight, wanted to be pressed to him head to toe, wanted him driving into her, and she shifted, rolled, urging him on top of her.

  As if the four years between them had never been, they were together in movement, in touch, in finding each other’s most sensitive places. And at last, when she cried out to him, he drove in hard and deep stroke after pounding stroke. She had a split second of realizing it was beginning, but the explosion hit her so fast and so strongly she couldn’t breathe but could only ride it up and over. She heard him say her name in a low, harsh growl in the instant before felt the pulse of him inside her, saw the same explosion of pleasure reflected in his face.

  And she knew, as he collapsed atop her, his breath coming in rapid pants, that no matter what, she could never regret this, even if this was all she was ever to have of him again.

  * * *

  “Not exactly the Ritz,” T.C. murmured, plucking a piece of straw from her hair.

  “But it’s us,” Jolie answered.

  His mouth tightened slightly. “It should have been a better place, but I never planned this.”

  How could he have? He’d never expected she would have an even more powerful effect on him now than she had four years ago. He’d never expected her to have an effect on him at all.

  And instead she had fired his senses to an unbearable peak, until his body demanded her in a way he’d not felt in...ever. Even more than the sweetness they’d found back then. No, this was different, this was fiercer, more insistent—and, if he was honest, more needy—than it had ever been.

  “It was exactly what it should have been.”

  His gaze narrowed. What was that supposed to mean? That this had only been a literal quick roll in the hay? And then he wondered why that bothered him. After all, he wasn’t looking for more. He hadn’t even been looking for this. In fact, if he’d had any sense, he would have run like hell the first instant the thought of getting tangled up with this woman again began to form.

  “It’s where we made love the first time, after all.”

  “Is that what this was?”

  He said it wryly, almost ruefully, and for an instant pain flashed in her eyes. But she recovered quickly.

  “A quick roll in the hay, then?”

  His expression froze as she used the exact words he’d just thought. “I didn’t say that.”

  She sighed, and it sounded almost sad. “I understand, really. From where you stand, I’m sure you’re having second thoughts.”

  “Standing was the hard part. You put me on my knees. You always did.”

  The admission widened her eyes. The sadness vanished. “It’s only ever been you.”

  His brow furrowed. “Are you saying you haven’t...been with anyone since you left?”

  Her mouth quirked. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  The memory of how slowly she’d taken him in, how tight she’d been around him, accomplished nothing but hardening him all over again. He fought the urge to begin again, slower this time, driving her mad by increments until he took her again. And then again, and again, until the sun began to rise in the east.

  “Why?” he asked. “I know there can’t be any shortage of men panting over you.”

  “You flatter me. But there are many reasons. Two main ones.”

  “Emma.”

  She nodded, smiling that loving smile that made him feel oddly wistful. “I didn’t want her confused by having guys around I wasn’t serious about. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Or to them, in fact.”

  “Fair to them?”

  “Reason two.” She met his gaze levelly. “Because none of them could measure up to you. Ever.”

  As a declaration, it was pretty powerful. His gut reaction was still instantaneous, a pained then why did you leave? But he knew her reasons now. And if she was telling the truth, he even understood them. How could he not, looking at sweet, innocent Emma, and picturing the child at the mercy of his mother’s untender ministrations? He’d seen his mother tear apart more than one person with her cold, calculating tactics over the years, and while he didn’t like to think she’d turn her malevolence on a child, he wasn’t sure he’d put it past her, either. And if she had, Marceline would have followed. And Fowler, of course, but that was always a given.

  “I need to check on Emma,” she said, and rose on one elbow.

  “She’s fine.”

  “But—”

  “It can wait a minute.”

  He looked at her bare breasts, savoring the way her nipples tightened under his gaze, as if she were thinking about him touching them, suckling them. In that moment, doing just that became the most important thing in his universe. He tugged her back, just far enough that he could lift his head and flick his tongue over one taut peak. She sucked in an audible breath, and he saw a quiver go through her, saw her stomach muscles tighten as if the deeper muscles were clenching. As they had around his erection, driving him nearly out of his mind.

  She moaned his name, low and husky in that way that never failed to slam him into full arousal.

  “No one,” he muttered. “No one ever measured up to you, either.”

  She closed her eyes as she shifted slightly, offering him the neglected other nipple.

  It wasn’t nearly as quick this time, but it was just as fierce, and hot enough to burn away much of the pain and regret. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if there might be a chance, a genuine chance, to begin anew.

  Chapter 24

  It was afternoon before he asked her, “Got that list?”

  Jolie nodded. She walked to the table and picked up the page she’d been working on while Emma and T.C. were out with Flash this afternoon; the girl’s squeals of delight had been a wonderful accompaniment to the task that would hopefully free her from this particular shadow o
ver her head.

  Just as her own cries of delight last night had shattered another cloud, one of regret and pain. She felt herself flush, and marveled at how merely thinking of last night could have her aching for him all over again. He’d always been able to do that to her, but she thought she’d successfully quashed that response in the years since. Obviously she’d been wrong. Very wrong.

  She watched him as he looked at the list of names. She’d started with those she’d worked most closely with that night, and their job titles, then included the two supervisors who had been there; she’d had contact with them both throughout the night. She’d read it over, thought for a moment, then added one last name.

  She glanced now at Emma, who was sitting at the table eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwich T.C. had fixed for her while Jolie was in the shower. A shower that had been hurried, because she started remembering again all the times they’d showered together and ended up sliding weak-kneed to the shower floor after some of the hottest sex she’d ever imagined. Actually she had never imagined it, because she hadn’t known it was even possible, until him.

  Lucky this shower is too small. And that Emma’s here.

  The child was humming as she approached the task in her usual unique way, tearing off a section of the sandwich and nibbling the edges off until it was a nearly perfect circle before she popped it in her mouth.

  “Mike Cortez?”

  She looked up at his surprised tone. “Yes. I wasn’t sure I should add him, but I had a conversation with him toward the end of the evening. You said that was the time it was most crucial to account for.”

  He was staring at her. “You had a conversation with the governor’s chief of staff?”

  He was saying it as if he thought she didn’t realize who the man was. “Yes. He was very nice.”

  “He is nice.”

  Of course, she realized. “You know him,” she said, feeling foolish. He was T. C. Colton; of course he knew the man.

  “Yes. Alanna went to school with him. Explain. Please.”

  He sounded rather odd, but it was a reasonable question, she thought. “It was a fund-raiser for the governor, so of course he was there. And he came back to thank the staff on the governor’s behalf. Like I said, nice.”

  “Don’t you think maybe he should be at the top of the list?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I wasn’t sure he should be there at all, since we only had the one contact. But it was at the right time, so...”

  Her voice trailed off as something in his expression changed. He smiled, a small, wondering smile. “It didn’t occur to you that his name might carry enough weight to stop this whole thing in its tracks?”

  “I...no.” She felt silly now.

  “Because you just don’t think that way, do you? People are people, nice or not, good or bad, not to be assessed for what they might be able to do for you.”

  Her mouth quirked. “That’s Fowler territory.”

  “Yes, it is.” He chuckled. “Next thing you’ll be saying you chatted with the governor.” Her eyes widened. His chuckle became a full laugh. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Briefly,” she said. “He came through the kitchen. He was charming.”

  “He is that. Why isn’t he on the list?”

  “He wouldn’t remember me,” she said.

  “He is a devoted husband, would never stray, but he’s a man to the core. Trust me, he’d remember.”

  She flushed, pleased at the implied compliment.

  “I’ll ask Mike to give the sheriff a call. That ought to put paid to this whole thing.”

  She stared at him. Realized he could do just that, pick up a phone and call the chief of staff for the governor. And have him not only answer, but in turn call the highest law officer in the neighboring county, who of course would immediately answer and take action.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Sometimes I forget just how thin the air is in your world,” she said wryly.

  “You’re the one who sucks all the air out of my world.” His voice was soft, suggestive, and sent a ripple of that heat through her again. “I have to remember to breathe when you’re around.”

  “Funny,” she said. “You have the opposite effect on me. I breathe faster. A lot faster.”

  He smiled then, a smile of acknowledgment, appreciation, satisfaction. And in that moment it was as if it all had never happened, as if they were back in that sweet, halcyon time when they’d been so completely in love and were planning their future as a family. She had never forgotten what she had loved about him, but she was learning that, at the core, none of it had changed. T.C. was still the man he’d been. The man she’d fallen for.

  The man she’d never really stopped loving.

  * * *

  Jolie finished washing and drying the bowls they had used for Bettina’s delicious chili. As she washed the single spoon, she smiled; as with many things, Emma had her own way of eating this. Scooping it up with crackers was her favored approach, and Jolie was happy enough to indulge it, since she enjoyed it so.

  “Sweetie, I’m going to go dump this water. I’ll be right back.”

  “’Kay.”

  The girl barely looked up; she was busy drawing another in the seemingly endless pictures of Flash. Jolie looked over at the one tacked up above the table, the one with a tall man with a gray cowboy hat astride the pinto that was looking more like T.C. with every effort. He had put it there, with a smile that Jolie thought had meant he was pleased Emma had included him. And Emma had clapped her hands in glee as her artwork was placed where he could “see it all the time.”

  He really was so good with her, she thought as she carefully carried the bowl of dishwater outside. He’d told her he always dumped it at the foot of the big tree; even used water was not to be wasted out here. She’d noticed the soap he used was specifically formulated for such use, and the tree certainly didn’t seem to mind; it was tall and broad and healthy-looking.

  “Is he coming back?”

  Emma’s question sounded almost as if she feared he wouldn’t. That quickly T.C. had fascinated her. Just as when she was six months old and he’d been able to make her smile and laugh and had put an end to any tears. Jolie had laughingly said he should rent himself out and called him the baby whisperer, thinking he’d probably groan. But instead he’d laughed and said, “This is the only baby I’m worried about. It only works because I love her.”

  For the first time, one of those sweet memories didn’t bring a wave of pain and anguish. Instead she felt a rush of hope. And no amount of telling herself it was foolish, that one passionate interlude didn’t mean they were on the road back, that T.C. could truly understand and forgive.

  The only thing she was certain it meant was that it would be just as hard to go on without him this time as it had been before.

  “Mommy?”

  “Sorry, sweetie, I was distracted. He just went to make a call. He had to take the truck to get to a place where his cell phone will work.”

  And catch the governor in his office? Jolie wondered.

  Sometimes she truly did forget what his life was really like, what merely his name gave him access to. But in a way, that was the highest compliment she could give him, in her view, because he never lorded it over anyone, never wielded the Colton name and power in the way his half brother did.

  As she finished drying the bowl that served as a sink and was setting it back in place, she heard something that sounded like a vehicle outside. She smiled automatically; that hadn’t taken as long as she’d expected. But the sound stopped some distance away. She waited, listening, but it didn’t start again. Curious now, she glanced at Emma, who was happily paging through one of the books T.C. had also brought, her favorite story about a mouse, a cat and a dog. Jolie had read it to her often enough th
at she knew it by heart, and was telling it to herself as she stopped at each familiar drawing.

  Jolie stepped outside to look around. The shadows were growing longer as the sun dropped in the sky, but it was still warm and still. She looked out toward the trees that provided some very welcome shade to the little cabin. She walked to the end of the porch slowly, in no rush, pondering all the reasons T.C. had chosen this place for his refuge.

  She reached the far end. Put her hands on the porch railing. Leaned out.

  And froze as she saw a figure in dark clothing darting away, vanishing over the low rise behind the cabin.

  Chapter 25

  Well, that should take care of that.

  T.C. smiled with satisfaction as he neared the refuge. A call from the governor’s office, not to put on pressure but as personal corroboration of Jolie’s alibi, ought to clear that up nicely. One fewer thing to worry about.

  He pulled up under the big tree and stopped. Jolie was out on the porch, rising from one of the chairs she’d apparently brought out, and he felt a jolt of pleasure at the sight of her waiting for him. Even if that wasn’t really why she was out here, he liked the idea enough to hang on to it.

  “It’s handled,” he told her as he took the two steps as one. “Your name should be crossed off the suspect list by now.”

  “Thank you,” she said, but she sounded...odd.

  “Emma?” he asked quickly.

  “I think it’s all catching up with her. And it got warm, so she got sleepy. She’s napping.”

  “Is she?”

  It came out huskily as his mind instantly jumped to all the ways they could utilize this time while the little girl was asleep. And then a chill slammed through him as he noticed the chair she’d been sitting on.

  His rifle was lying on the seat.

  “What happened?” he demanded, his pulse kicking upwards.

  “I...somebody was here.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. I heard a car, but it stopped over there, out of sight,” she said, gesturing toward the back of the cabin. “I listened, but it didn’t start again. So I came outside. Walked over there, just in time to see somebody running back over the rise. I would have followed, but...”