Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3)

by Jaydyn Chelcee

  “God, Lace.” He shuddered with each deep penetration. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

  “Then don’t,” she said breathlessly, arching her hips to meet the deep drive of his cock. “Don’t.”

  Rafe drove into her. He felt rock hard inside her. The table was rock hard beneath her, and she felt as if she’d crashed through heaven’s gate on the tail of a comet. He took her higher and higher, lifted her to the stars, and slowly brought her to earth again.

  Lacey gasped, amazed at the exquisite torture of his loving—he was both rough and gentle, and his deep penetrations were hot and powerful. He took care that she was limp with satisfaction before he drove deep inside her the final time, threw back his head, ground his teeth together, and groaned with the powerful release that shook his body.

  She locked her legs tighter around his hips and held him close, held him tight, and took the warm, wet pulses of his semen jetting inside her. She thought they must have dozed for a few minutes, because the next thing she knew, Rafe was carrying her down the hall toward the guest bathroom.

  Gingerly, he lowered her to her feet, leaned around her, and twisted the faucet. He set the controls to ultra warm and guided her into the shower.

  There, he shoved her urgently against the wall, lifted her and impaled her in one deep thrust. “Ride me,” he whispered. “Like you did in the barn today. Ride me. Fast. Hard. Jesus! Like that, honey. Exactly like that. Don’t stop.”

  There was nothing gentle about his loving this time. He bit her nipples, then soothed the sharp stings with his tongue. He held her head against the wall and buried his tongue in her mouth like he buried his cock over and over in her hot channel. He touched her everywhere. His fingers slid along her clit, teasing. Tormenting. A harsh groan ripped past his lips. Rafe thrust faster. Deeper. His need for her was overwhelming, a bit rough, and oh, so incredible.

  Lacey screamed as a violent climax rippled through her body. In seconds, Rafe unleashed what small control he had left, pumped his hips savagely, stiffened and poured his scorching essence inside her. His chest heaved, but he remained buried deep inside her. Lacey thought her knees might buckle if he pulled out of her. He squeezed her breasts, ignoring the fact the water had turned icy.

  “I’m not finished here,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’m nowhere near finished here.”

  Lacey locked her fingers in the hair at his nape. “Neither am I.”

  “Good.” He anchored his mouth to hers and started over.

  Sometime after ten, Rafe dried her off and carried her to the guest bedroom, to his bed, the one he always slept in when he was here. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “It’s Christmas. I have a present for you under the tree.”

  Lacey bit her lip. “Bring back the one I wrapped for you. It’s toward the back of the tree, a rectangular package in green and white paper.”

  Rafe nodded and headed out the door.

  Lacey eyed his ass and sighed. A fine ass it was, too, but not nearly as delicious as the package up front. She moaned and eyed the reddish bruises popping up on her thighs and breasts. God, she ached all over. The marathon of sex they’d shared in the shower had been rough and wildly satisfying—she wanted more.

  “Here.” Rafe handed her a small package wrapped in red paper. A delicate white bow perched on top of it. “Open it,” he said softly.

  Lacey nodded, tore off the wrapping and flipped open the top of the dark blue velvet box. Her breath caught in her throat. Inside the box lay an exquisite diamond-shaped heart suspended from a fine gold chain. Inside the heart, a smaller one dangled, outlined in rubies and the center filled with sapphires.

  “Oh, my God, Rafe.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s stunning. I can’t accept something this expensive. You shouldn’t have bought something so…”

  “Perfect for you?” He fastened the chain around her throat. The heart fell flawlessly between her breasts. “Our hearts joined as one,” he said quietly and traced the outer edge of the larger heart with an unsteady fingertip. “I knew it would fall right here, between your breasts…always. Promise me you’ll never take it off.”

  Lacey could barely see him through the blur of her tears. “I swear.” She cleared her throat. “Open your gift. I spent weeks searching for it.”

  Rafe ripped off the big green bow and, laughing, stuck it to the top of her head. He shredded the paper and tore open the box. “Sonofabitch!” He whistled, a soft low sound, and lifted the colt .45 out of the box and stared at it. “Where on earth did you find this? It’s the…I knew there was a twin….” His voice trailed away. “You heard me tell Danger I’d been searching for it for years?”

  She nodded. “I have a friend who has a friend. We tracked it down…” She grinned. “Do you like it?”

  “Like it? Sweetheart, I’ll treasure it always. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.” He settled her onto his lap and kissed her. “This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He cupped her breasts, lowered his head and suckled the tight nipples. Slowly, he raised his head and searched her eyes. “I love you, Lace. Thank you for making me happy tonight, for making me complete.”

  Kissing led to more touching and exploring each other’s bodies. Lacey didn’t know how much time passed, hours or minutes. It didn’t matter. Rafe took his time loving her.

  He helped her onto her hands and knees and covered her from behind. Plunging a finger inside her, he eased back and teased her clit, toyed with the aching nub until she bucked wildly against his straining cock. He entered her, a long, slow filling of her sensitive channel, and rocked them both to a swift climax.

  Lacey collapsed on her stomach, her breaths labored. Exhausted, her body felt replete. Every muscle felt limp and loose, as if she’d been too long inside a sauna or hot tub. Rafe fell down beside her on his back, his dark head on a pillow, his own breathing as ragged as hers. “I’m not finished,” he said, repeating the words he’d said to her in the shower earlier.

  She giggled. Something she hadn’t done in many months. “Are you going to get finished with me tonight?”

  “Not even close,” he said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I’ll never get finished with you, Lace. If my damn dick will stay hard, I plan on being inside you until dawn.”

  “I need to rest. My muscles feel like mushy noodles.”

  “Sleep on top of me,” he said quietly. “I want to feel you on top of me all night.”

  Lacey crawled onto him and rested her head on his wide chest.

  “No,” he said softly, “like this.” He lifted her enough to slide his cock inside her, then let her body settle on top of his. “From now on, this is where Junior sleeps. When you’re near, he gets to soak inside you.”

  Lacey snickered. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy about you. God, Lacey, I’m love you. There isn’t a part of me that ache for you. I wanted to fuck you, true, but that’s not all I want from you. I want to own your heart.” He smiled, a sad twist to his masculine lips. I want to hold you in my heart forever.” Rafe ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “Will you give it to me? Your heart? I’ll take care of it for you. I swear.”

  Lacey smiled through her tears. “It’s kind of bruised and battered, not worth much, but if you want it, it’s yours.”

  “I want it,” he said, sounding so serious, she wondered if she loved him back enough.

  Rafe relaxed. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so content. The constant ache that had consumed his body for months was gone. “ I’ve always loved you, Lace.”

  But she was already asleep, her soft breath kissing his chest. He closed his eyes content that she was at long last in his arms, exactly where she belonged, and was going to stay. He wasn‘t giving her up. Ever.

  Daylight filtered through the window, pale, milky rays, when he woke her. He coaxed her fully awake with long drugging kisses. He bit her throat gently, suckled the flesh, then soothed
the bruised skin with tender kisses.

  Lacey gasped, coming fully awake. Rafe suckled hard on her throat, before gingerly releasing it. She rubbed the achy spot where his lips had just been. “Rafe,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have—”

  “Yes, I should have,” he said. “I don’t care. You belong to me. I don’t care who knows. Besides, look at your breasts, sweetheart. Your belly. Your thighs. Arms. My marks of possession are all over you. I don’t want to hide my love for you.”

  He trailed a chain of soft kisses and caresses over her breasts, stopped to suckle her tender nipples and left more love bites in his wake. Her stomach carried the dark reddish bruises he’d added to the ones already there. He eyed his handiwork and grinned. “I like my marks of ownership on you. It shows you’re well loved.” Gently, he nudged her thighs apart and grinned. “Good morning, little kitty,” he said with a hungry growl, then buried his face between her legs.

  Giggling, Lacey quickly moaned when he licked her clit, parted her slick lips and pushed his tongue inside her. She sighed and savored the dance of his tongue stroking her like whips of electricity.

  Rafe grinned, eased back and guided his cock inside her. When she clasped her inner muscles around his thick cock, she moaned her pleasure. He erupted inside her at the same moment.

  Lacey cried his name and brought his mouth to hers. Rafe melted with the hard release that shook his body. Reluctantly, he pulled out of her and tugged her tightly against his chest. His arms spread around her, and he held her close. “I have to leave soon, Lace,” he whispered. “Come to Texas with me. Don’t stay here.”

  Lacey searched his face. He saw it in her eyes. She wouldn’t do what he asked. “I can’t just leave, Rafe. I have responsibilities. I have a son.”

  “I want you in my life, sweetheart, both of you. I don’t want to leave you behind. For me, this is it. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Go to Texas with me. Marry me. Will you marry me?”

  “Rafe,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Rafe…”

  Chapter Eleven

  I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it.

  ~Maya Angelou

  Rimrock, Montana

  Backside of the Davis Property

  February 7, Saturday

  4:00 a.m.

  “Rafe. Rafe!” Lacey Blackstone opened her eyes and slowly escaped the nightmare world of smothering darkness and pain she’d been held prisoner in for hours. Panic surrounded her, closing in, more suffocating than the blackness crowding her mind.

  Dear God, she’d cried out the wrong man’s name. Hadn’t she?

  Wrong man?

  She frowned. Yes. Her first thoughts should have been of her husband. Danger. She needed Danger. Where was he? Why didn’t he come? Lacey blinked, trying to gather the splintered pieces of her memory. Everything was such a jumble. It hurt to think, to breathe, to move.

  Husband? No. No. That wasn’t right. She didn’t have a husband, didn’t have a home. She’d lost both to another woman. To Karen.

  Lacey lay there in the cold, trying to solve the puzzle of what had happened to her. She shivered. The cold bit so deep into her flesh, like all her blood had turned to ice. Why was she this cold? Nothing made sense. She couldn’t think. Where was she? A cold, dark place, that’s where she was, so it wasn’t hell. Was it?

  She blinked. At last, the rubble around her began to take shape. Life was strange. Somehow she was changed. Like a derailed train, somewhere, she’d run off the tracks and crashed. Lacey marveled at just how much of a mangled wreck her life had become

  After Rafe left in December, she’d tortured herself with the guilt she felt at sleeping with him. At the time, it had seemed right, felt right, but when she was alone, her thoughts and emotions turned into a jumbled mess. The one thought that kept eating at her—she’d betrayed Danger. She’d broken her wedding vows. She’d been ready to get down on her knees, confess, and beg his forgiveness.

  And all along, he’d been sleeping with Karen.

  The truth slammed into her, scorching her soul. Danger was no longer her husband, no longer the right man. His choice. After three years of marriage, he wanted a divorce, and it had nothing to do with the fact she’d slept with Rafe.

  She’d granted Danger what he wanted. There had been little choice. She couldn’t revive what had died, no more than she could live with a man who didn’t love her. She signed the divorce papers and tried not to look back on everything they’d lost.

  After he told her he was in love with another woman, there hadn’t been much starch left in her, certainly not enough to fight for him. She couldn’t fight for a man who had no trust or faith in her, a man who believed lies over her truth. He’d made it plain he detested her. He’d made it plain he didn’t give a shit she’d slept with Rafe.

  Everything inside her curled up and died.

  The only sure thing she knew anymore was that Rafe wasn’t the wrong man. Not for her. He loved her. Wanted her. More, he needed her. That was a whole hell of a lot more feelings than she could say her husband felt for her. The sad thing was, her basic yearning to be loved, her desire to be held, and her need for Rafe had all contributed to the destruction of her marriage.

  Consumed with guilt, she couldn’t shake the feelings of responsibility for the breakup of her marriage. The fact she’d broken her wedding vows haunted her, ripped at her soul. She alone had failed to make Danger happy, failed to satisfy him. Shame ate at her. It swallowed her whole. Her failure. She’d failed her husband in every possible way a woman could fail—sexually, as a wife, as the mother of his son.

  Bleakness settled around her. Yes. Her failures. Rafe wanted to marry her. A failure. Why would he want to marry her when she obviously couldn’t make a marriage work, couldn’t make a man happy, and couldn’t keep him satisfied in bed so he wouldn’t cheat on her?

  She’d failed. There must be something lacking in her or Danger would never have stopped loving her, never turned to another woman.

  Failed. She deserved everything Smitt Davis did to her. God had sought his punishment for her sins. She’d die here, cold, naked, and alone. In her mind, justice was served. A tear escaped the corner of her right eye and slid into the hair above her ear.

  Lacey closed her eyes and shivered. The icy fingers of death crawled over her skin and burrowed deep. They plucked at the very marrow frozen deep in her bones, scraping and scraping until the will to live slowly drained out of her. Let death come. Let it take her. She didn’t mind paying the ultimate price for what she’d done. She welcomed the ethereal visitor.

  Curling into a tight fetal ball, Lacey let her tears fall unheeded. Cold. So cold. Her blood felt as if it had turned to slush. Joseph’s sweet and trusting face swam before her eyes. His eyes, the pewter gray of his father’s. His frightened cries as Smitt tortured her.

  The baby, the innocent child Rafe and she had created, ripped from her womb. Her body shook with sobs. “Mommy’s sorry, babies. I didn’t protect you, either of you. I’m sorry.”

  Her son. Her baby. Both lost to her forever. She didn’t know how she knew it, but in her heart, she realized Joseph was gone. Smitt Davis had beaten him mercilessly. She hadn’t been able to lift a finger to save either of her children.

  Yeah, she deserved to die.

  She didn’t want to live.

  She’d failed her husband, failed her babies.

  Lacey clenched her fists. It slowly dawned on her that something was cutting the flesh of her right palm. Puzzled, she opened her hand. A heart-shaped necklace. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. Rafe’s Christmas gift to her. Lacey curled her fingers around the heart. It was the only thing she had left to connect her to the man she loved.

  “Rafe,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

  An icy chill seeped deeper into her skin.

  Would she ever feel warm again? No. She didn’t think so.

  A silent scream filled her heart. Let
death take her, because she knew her soul would never feel whole, warm or alive again.

  Faint mewling cries reached her ears. It reminded her of a tiny kitten, lost, alone, and forsaken. It took her a moment to realize she was making the faint noises. Oh, God. She hurt. Everywhere sharp pain stabbed her bruised and battered body like a battering ram. Her breasts throbbed. So did her nipples. The two bullet wounds burned as if someone had jabbed a red hot poker into her flesh. Her stomach felt as if it had been ripped wide apart.

  Lower down, her feminine sheath ached. Bled.

  Lacey coughed. Her mouth filled with blood and clotted particles that coated the back of her throat and mouth, choked her. She coughed again, spraying dark red droplets in several directions. Pain clouded her mind. She couldn’t remember everything Smitt did to her, but she didn’t think he’d sexually assaulted her, not with his body. So why did she ache there as if she’d been penetrated over and over again?

  Memory crawled back inside her head of those terrible hours Smitt tortured her. She shuddered. He’d done things to her. Terrible things, things she never wanted to remember. She didn’t know what he’d used, but he’d invaded her body repeatedly with it.

  Tears slid down her face, ice cold tears that felt like a frozen river. Smitt loved inflicting pain. He savored it. His pig-like eyes had glittered with malice each time he ejaculated on her. His squeals of satisfaction at causing her pain were a sound that haunted her and would disturb her for the rest of her days. Lacey shivered and tried to turn her thoughts away from the memory of that monster standing over her, his semen spurting onto her breasts.

  She thought of Rafe, and the way his body warmed hers, his sweet, warm kisses, his touch, so gentle and possessive. He was her only hope. God knew Danger wouldn’t waste his precious time searching for her. He didn’t love her anymore.

  Lacey bit her lower lip to keep from crying out with pain a simple movement caused her. Looking back, she realized she should have told Rafe about their baby. She should have answered his phone calls, told him they’d made a baby that night. The opportunity to share the news with him had come and gone. Too late. Too late to change anything, too late to pick up the phone and hear his voice, tell him she was pregnant with his child, tell him she loved him, and she was coming to him, if he’d still have her.