“I’m so sorry.”
She stood, so quickly that she dropped her check. She made a grab for it, but it disappeared beneath his desk, landing close to his foot. She moved to come around to his side of the desk, but he didn’t want her coming close, so he ducked down and scooped the envelope up.
She stood over him. He reared back in his chair and thrust the check out. She didn’t move.
The silence in the room was like that before a bomb blast, the total quieting of sound and air, as if a million people had inhaled at once, sucking the world into stillness, and he knew he was doomed.
“Colby.”
He closed his eyes. It was a move of self-defense. If he didn’t see her, the tension would ease. Maybe she’d take it as a silent signal to go away.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Her words sounded as agonized as he felt. His hands found the arms of his office chair, giving them something to hold on to other than her.
Jayden.
Never had he wanted anything as badly as he wanted the woman in front of him. He knew then what it meant to be consumed by desire. He was a shoreline pounded by waves, his desire to keep away from her eaten away bit by bit until there was nothing left of his willpower.
And then she took his hand.
He released a breath as if he’d been underwater too long. Her thumb gently caressed the back of his hand. He wondered if she thought she needed to tame him, if she sensed the wild animal she roused within him, hoped to soothe the beast with her gentle touch. It didn’t work.
His eyes opened. He saw it then. Longing. Hope. Desire.
“We shouldn’t.” It was all he could think to say.
“I know.”
“If someone finds out.”
Yes, her eyes seemed to say. Yes, I know.
But she was as helpless to fight the force of their attraction as he was. He saw that, too.
“Maybe just this once?” she offered softly.
It was that moment of insanity when someone suggested something completely outrageous and that you knew was wrong, but at the same time it seemed perfectly sane. Insane. That was what this was. Insanity.
He tugged on her hand, pulled her down to him, and she went willingly, her mouth opening at the same time she straddled his lap.
Dear God.
The cry echoed through his head. He welcomed that open mouth, swept his tongue inside so he could taste her once again, guided her so that her hot warmth covered the ache in his groin. But the crash of their bodies was nothing compared to the sweet release of holding her. She made him think things, thoughts he’d never had, primal male urges to protect her, shield her and keep her safe.
He’d failed at that once before.
He started to draw back. She wouldn’t let him, pulled him even closer, changed the angle of her head, kissed him in a way that seemed to reach deep into his core, and he forgot about his past and the men he’d been sworn to protect and the families he’d let down. His mind could think about one thing. Sucking in the sweet essence that was Jayden, the insides of her mouth as hot as the ache in his groin, her tongue as soft as silk.
She came up for air. He gasped at his sudden ability to breathe. She still held his head, still peered down at him, her eyes soft and full of wanton desire.
“I want you, Colby Kotch,” she said softly. “I want you even though my wanting scares the hell out of me.”
Yes. He knew how she felt.
His chest rose and fell like a hunted man’s, and when he tried to talk, his voice sounded harsh, guttural. “I want you, too.”
The flame in her eyes flickered. “Then take me to your bed.”
* * *
She knew where his room was, had noted its location that first day when he’d given her a tour, and she heard voices coming from down the hall as they passed, but she wouldn’t have cared if the boogeyman had come tearing down the hall and tried to scare her away.
She was doing this.
It didn’t matter what she risked, or that it might affect their jobs, and that at some point, sanity would return and she’d have to live with the ramifications of what they were about to do. All that mattered was the here and now, and she wanted him.
Here.
Now.
His door was open, and when it closed behind her, he turned and faced her and she looked into his eyes and she saw it then, the uncertainty that hid beneath the heat in his eyes. She’d seen it before, she suddenly realized. It was always there. Pain. Sadness. Heartache. It called to her.
She lifted a hand to stroke the side of his jaw, a day’s growth of beard prickly beneath her touch. She found his mouth, swiped the pad of her finger across his lower lip, his eyes changing, softening, heating. Such a good man. So many ghosts in the dark.
“Kiss me,” she said softly.
His big hands cupped the back of her head, but his touch was gentle, his lips covering her own, and there it was again. Once upon a time she’d jumped on a horse’s back without a saddle or a bridle. For a few glorious minutes she’d been as unfettered as a bird, the ground flying beneath them, arms outstretched, head tilted back. She felt the same way now.
Her mouth opened, and the touch of his tongue was as delicate as a feather. There was something about kissing this man, something that both frightened and enticed her at the same time. When his hand lowered, she arched because she wanted his touch. That, too, frightened her. She’d never felt such need. It was like the ache for food, a ravenous hunger that made her hands drop so she could unbutton his shirt. She went at it blind, preferred kissing him to drawing back and focusing on the task at hand because she didn’t want to be parted from him. Ever. His gaze found hers, making her aware of where they were and what they were doing and how they shouldn’t.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
And in his words she heard a plea for help, a desperate cry for her to save him from something.
What?
She searched his eyes, saw his desire for her, but also a longing that had nothing to do with sex, and it called to her because deep in her heart she knew. She felt the same need to be one with someone. All the years of going it alone, of wishing for a man’s presence in her life even though she told herself she didn’t need one, and she didn’t...she really didn’t, but that didn’t take away the yearning for a man to look at her like Colby did right now.
She led him to his bed in the corner of the room. Her hands shook. Her heart ran in a marathon. Her mind ran circles.
What are you doing? Who cares? I need this. I shouldn’t.
Round and round. And yet she started to unbutton his shirt once again. She used his eyes as anchors. They held her steady in a sea of uncertainty.
When his shirt slid off his shoulders something caught her gaze. His tattoo. A circle on his upper arm. No, a Celtic circle. But there was something odd about the lines. She shifted slightly, looked more closely.
Names.
They were the names of his men. Half a dozen of them swirling around an infinity loop. Her gaze shot to his, and she saw the sadness again, and the symbolism of the ink robbed her of breath, made her lean toward him and press her lips against his forearm, before moving closer and resting her cheek against his chest. She felt his arms slip around her. He held her tight, so tight she could barely breathe, but that was okay because he needed this.
He needed her.
There were a few things in this world she knew to be true. Her love for her daughter. Her daughter’s love for her. Her family’s love for both of them. And her growing love for this man. This damaged, wonderful, frightened man who loved animals and had the purest of souls and a sadness in his eyes that brought tears to her eyes.
Yes, he needed her. But she needed him, too.
Chapter 16
There had been moments in Colby’s life when h
e’d been terrified out of his mind. This was one of them.
And yet...
Holding Jayden near the edge of his bed, pressing his cheek against the top of her head, inhaling her fragrance, quelled his fears, made his mind slow. He wanted to memorize the way it felt to have her in his arms, to be able to bring that memory back out at a later date and examine it and maybe use it as a reminder of how for one perfect moment everything had been right with the world.
She shifted and he thought, This is it. This is when she realizes what a complete mess I am and walks out.
She pulled her shirt off.
He stood there in shock, not just because she stared up at him half-naked, but at her steely-eyed look of resolve.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She kicked off her boots in response, unsnapped her pants, shoved the denim down, straightened, her chin lifting, standing in front of him in nothing more than lace underwear and a matching bra.
And she was stunning.
She reached up, released her hair from its ponytail, her eyes a vivid blue, like the color of the deepest part of a flame. She took his breath away, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve such a perfect example of femininity.
Her hands moved to his jeans, the brush of her fingers causing his eyes to close. It’d been so long...
His jeans began to slide down, and he felt something hot brush up against his belly. Her breath. Sweet heaven above, she was killing him.
Something that sounded like a groan came from his throat. He opened his eyes, glanced down; she was on her knees, trying to lift his foot, something he hadn’t even realized, he’d been so engrossed in the fantasy of her touching him with her mouth and using her tongue...
“Lift.”
He gave her his foot. She tugged first one boot off, then the other, then slid his jeans down, leaving his boxers behind. And then she looked up at him, began to kiss his legs, first one, then the other.
He couldn’t watch.
If he did he’d lose it right then and there, and suddenly he wanted this to be about her. He had to prove to her that there was one thing, at least, that he was good at. Or that he used to be good at.
And so he bent and helped her up, lifting her, moving her to the bed, and gently set her down, unable to do more than stare once she lay on the bed. Once, when he’d been younger, he and his dad traveled overseas to visit one of his dad’s best customers, a Jordanian prince who’d had the most amazing collection of marble sculptures he’d ever seen. Jayden was like the living embodiment of those finely sculpted treasures. Her legs were long and perfectly formed, as if someone had drawn them first and then brought them to life. Her hips flared, her belly above the thin wisp of underwear flat until the point of her belly button, where it sank inward, begging for the touch of his hand or his mouth. She had the curves of a woman, a real woman, not one of those model-thin girls who never ate and used to chase him back when he was Colby Kotch, heir to a billion-dollar fortune. Her breasts were soft mounds, and he shook with a desire to touch them, or to lift the fabric of her bra and run his tongue around the pink nub.
“You’re so beautiful.”
His eyes met hers, and he saw them flare, and then her lashes lowered and she said, “Not anymore. Not after having a baby.”
She was so off base that all he could do was stare at her, incredulous, until he slowly lowered himself next to her, resting on one side of her, his hand skating across the belly she thought so unattractive.
“You are the most incredible creature I’ve ever seen.” His finger found the hollow that led to her belly button. She gasped. “And the fact that you’ve brought life into this world—” he bent and kissed her gently “—it makes you even more beautiful to me.”
She still didn’t look convinced, and so he kissed her again, trying to convince her with his mouth and then his touch that she turned him on in ways no one had ever done before.
Her lips opened beneath his, and he captured the tip of her tongue, sucking her and tasting her and thinking not even the ripest of cherries could be as sweet, as soft, as juicy as she was. Her lips were like the fuzz of a peach, and the way she moaned in response to his kiss, it jolted him like the shock of a bomb blast.
His hand dropped, sliding the edges of her panties down, his fingers dipping beneath them, his need to pleasure her as great as his need to protect her. That was what she did to him, made him feel like a man, like she was the most precious thing in the world and only he could keep her safe.
Her head turned, she gasped for breath, crying his name, and at first, all he did was tease her. His own body throbbed in response, but he wouldn’t give in to the urge to cover her and do more. Instead he kissed her more deeply, mimicking his hand motions with his tongue, and she started to whimper.
Fly, he silently told her.
“No.” She’d wrenched her mouth away. “I want you to enjoy this, too.”
And then she made a move that would have done his hand-to-hand combat instructors proud: she rolled, capturing him beneath her, and he released a grunt of surprise and pleasure and frustration because he didn’t want her to take control. He wanted to be the one to hold back, needed to do that, for her.
He flipped her beneath him. They ended up in the middle of his bed. Her eyes popped open and he saw laughter in them and it made him freeze for a moment because there was such joy in those eyes, her beauty so awe-inspiring all he could do was stare.
“No fair,” she said.
But then he pushed against her, and her eyes closed and she groaned and thrust her head back, and he knew he’d won. He captured her lips again, but this time it was no gentle seduction. This time it was all about making her moan and cry out in pleasure as he moved his body up and down, her legs wrapping around him, and it was hell—Lord, how it was hell—to hold back when all he wanted to do was rip the flimsy strip of fabric away and drop his boxers and take her. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have protection.
She wrenched her head, left, right, and he reared back and watched her hair splay around her, sweat glistening on her brow, her cheeks flushing, the pulse at her throat throbbing.
“Oh, Colby!”
And still he maintained control, his mouth finding the beat at the base of her neck, his teeth nipping her flesh, his hips moving back and forth. She became more frenetic beneath him and he knew she was about to lose control, and it gave him such purpose, such happiness to know that he’d succeeded.
He sensed the moment it happened. She froze, but only for a split second, and then she fell back against the bed, and he watched as her pleasure at long last took flight, her lips parting, tears sliding from the corner of her eyes as she cried out his name. He watched, aching in a way he’d never ached before, a physical pain that came from ignoring his own needs in favor of her own, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing, not for all the money in the world. This...holding her, bringing her pleasure, it made his heart sing in a way he’d never felt before.
And happiness was not something he’d ever thought to feel again.
* * *
His weight should have crushed her. That was Jayden’s first thought as reality returned and his room came into sharp focus. How long had he been holding her? One minute? Two? Five?
“Do you need me to move?” he whispered.
Yes. She needed him to roll on his back so she could do to him what he’d done to her. That was what she wanted. He’d turned her into a wanton. Into the woman she’d been back before she’d become a mother when all she’d wanted to do was feel the intense pleasure of being with a man. And, damn, she still shook from the force of what he’d done to her.
“Roll onto your back.”
He didn’t move. She pushed on his chest. All he did was tip sideways, his right leg covering her own, his hand landing on her belly.
“We don’t have protection.” Hi
s eyes studied her, roving over her face, a slight smile tipping the edges of his lips. “It’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t fine. “This isn’t just about me.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
She pressed back into the soft comfort of his bed. His hair was tousled, his skin tanned compared to her own. For the first time she realized how much bigger he was than her, from the width of his shoulders to the breadth of his chest. Whorls of hair sprouted from the hard surface of his pecs. She found herself lifting a hand and circling the hardened contours of them. His muscles contracted.
“You should get dressed.” His smile turned tender. “I’d hate for someone to wonder where we both are.”
Get dressed? Who was he kidding?
“I don’t have to go anywhere right away.”
His face was a study of contrasts. In his eyes she saw desire mixed with caution. Joy mixed with the ever-present sadness. Pride mixed with humility. She couldn’t stop herself from touching that face, from running her fingers down the side of his hardened jaw, marveling at the color of his eyes.
“Why are you fighting this?”
She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but it’d been hovering there, the truth they sought to avoid clinging to the side of a cliff, both of them not at all ready for the fall.
He stared down at her, and she knew he recognized her need for truth. “We don’t have protection,” he repeated.
“Actually, I’m on birth control.” She swiped a lock of his hair off his face. “And don’t tell me you don’t have something in this room of yours, too.”
His pupils contracted, and she went still for a moment because she could tell he was carefully considering his words. He looked frightened all of a sudden. And sad. And it finally hit her what was going on.
“Is this your penance, Colby? Part of how you punish yourself for what happened in the past?”
Home on the Ranch: Her Cowboy Hero Page 14
