Burning Wild (14 page)

She couldn’t face him right now. She felt confused when she was near Jake—her body growing more and more uncomfortable in his presence. Every sense heightened when he came near. His scent, masculine and forbidden, tantalized her. The drawling sound of his voice was like a caress over her skin. Maybe it had happened so gradually she hadn’t been aware of her attraction to him, but she’d lived comfortably with him for two years, and to her it seemed as if, all of a sudden, when he was near, her body reacted by coming alive. And when he was gone, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She hurried across the driveway, running down the path to the stables. What a mess they would all be in if she made the mistake of allowing him to know she was sexually attracted to him. Kyle called her Mommy, believed she was his mother, and for all intents and purposes she was. She loved him as if he were her flesh and blood. Kyle and Andraya loved each other as brother and sister. And Jake was equally wonderful to both of them. And she loved Jake. Really loved him. She had loved him long before she was attracted sexually. And falling for him that way would only ruin everything.

Emma laughed softly to herself, remembering Jake getting up night after night to help her with Kyle, to change wet diapers and feed him. Now, with Andraya, he still got up, even if Kyle stayed asleep. When he was home, he fixed her tea or chocolate and sat with her while she rocked the baby to sleep. He never seemed to actually go to bed, spending most nights in her room. Sometimes he stretched out on the bed beside her, and those nights had become a kind of private hell. She wanted him there, yet the temptation of his body was becoming dangerous.

He would have had sex with her. He was nearly always hard, always ready. It wasn’t that difficult to see the impressive bulge in the front of his jeans, and he never bothered to hide it or appeared embarrassed or ashamed. But she didn’t want to become one of his women. He treated them with total indifference, contempt even, and she couldn’t live with that.

Emma caught up a bridle, running a practiced eye over the horses standing patiently in the stalls. She wanted one with stored-up, restless energy. Maybe if she took a long ride, she would be able to calm her body down and figure out why she was so restless and edgy and desperate for a man’s body. Not just any man—Jake.

“Emma.” A quiet, menacing voice made her stiffen. Powerful fingers bit into her shoulder, spinning her around. “What the hell’s going on here?” Jake demanded. Diamond-hard eyes raked her pale features, noting the shadows lurking in her dark eyes, dwelling on the pulse beating frantically in her throat, touching on her soft, trembling mouth.

The sight of him always robbed her of breath. Jake was formidable, overpowering, dangerous. A rock for all of them, yet he moved silently, like a cat in the night. “I’m going riding, Jake,” she answered, straining to keep her voice even. She loved looking at him, all that flowing power, the swift impatience, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled right before he smiled. But he could be very overwhelming when he chose to be intimidating—as he was doing now.

He swore, pulling her soft body right up against his tough, well-muscled one. He had a day’s growth of beard, and up this close she could smell his outdoorsy, masculine scent. “Like hell you are. I haven’t seen you in two long weeks. What’s up?”

With an effort, Emma managed a faint smile. “Nothing, Jake. I was shirking duties, that’s all. How was your trip?”

Swift annoyance spread across his sensual features. She could feel the tension in his large frame. “Come on,” he snapped impatiently, whirling around, taking her with him. “If we’re going to spar, we may as well be comfortable.”

He moved with the lithe, flowing grace of a prowling jungle cat, power and coordination combined. Emma, with her shorter legs, was forced to run to match his lazy, long stride. He glanced down at her bent head, his eyes a glittering gold, and deliberately slowed his pace to accommodate her. Casually retaining possession of her arm, he dropped his flat-brimmed hat on a chair as they went through the family room.

“Was that Susan Hindman I saw upstairs?” he demanded abruptly, releasing her as they entered the kitchen. “She was peeking over the banister and making eyes at me.”

Emma nodded, rubbing absently at the marks of his fingers on her arm. “She’s staying with us while her father’s away in London. He asked me right after you left. I didn’t think you’d object. Her governess, Dana Anderson, brought her along with a gentleman they said was her tutor, a Harold Givens.” Jake didn’t like strangers on the ranch.

“What’s she been saying to you?” Jake’s handsome features were set and hard. He looked very formidable. Even so, he reached out to take her arm in the palm of his hand, his touch gentle as he examined her skin for finger marks. The pads of his fingers stroked caresses over the marks, his touch lingering, sending tingles of arousal along her nerve endings to spread through her body.

She pulled her hand away because he looked as if he might kiss her better, and her pulse began to hammer hard, first in her throat, then in her breasts, and finally in her most feminine core. Color swept up her neck. It was so humiliating to be out of control of her body when it had never happened before. He couldn’t know. She couldn’t give herself away to his sharp, probing gaze.

“Sorry, you have such fair skin, honey. I always forget that. What did Susan have to say?” he persisted.

She shrugged lightly, ignoring the strange sensations his nearness produced in her. “Only girl talk.” She kept her voice even but his touch had disturbed her so much she couldn’t meet his gaze.

He sighed, his golden eyes never leaving her face. “God, I’m tired. It’s been a long two weeks. You have any coffee made?”

She flashed him a quick smile. “Of course, you know I do. Want to eat?” She handed him a steaming mug. He did look tired, his hair tousled and unruly, just the way she liked it best.

He shook his head. “Coffee’s great. I’ve been dreaming about your coffee. Where are the little monsters?”

“Upstairs playing. I’m surprised they’re not down here already. They must not have heard you come in.” She watched him toss his coat aside and sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Without conscious thought, Emma reached out and pushed an unruly lock of hair from his forehead.

He tilted the chair, golden eyes on the pulse beating at the hollow of her throat. She moved with a curious, delicately feminine retreat. A crooked smile touched his mouth. He deliberately allowed his eyes a lazy exploration of her soft, curving body. “Have the kids been good?”

“They’re always good, although they missed you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Emma poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the sink, a small but relatively safe distance from him.

“And what about you? Did you miss me?” His voice was a soft whisper, like fingers skimming along her skin.

Faint color stole into her face. She loved the sound of his voice. “Of course I missed you. I always miss you.” And she did, as arrogant and bossy as he was. “I was hoping you’d come home today.”

“Why today?” He took another sip of coffee with an appreciative smile. “This is better than gold. I really miss your coffee when I’m away.”

“It’s your birthday.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, sitting up straighter, watching Emma cross the room to the overhead cupboards. She had to reach high, stand on her toes, but she managed to pull a large, flat package down. He tried not to react, to stiffen, to get up and walk out. It was a birthday present, no big deal, and he couldn’t very well tell her he didn’t want it, wouldn’t know what to do with it. Little kindnesses were too hard to accept. She had a look on her face that was a birthday present in itself, and more than he could ever want.

Emma had made his house a home. She always went that extra mile, always showing him in so many ways that he mattered to her. Like now. He set his coffee mug on the table, afraid his hands might tremble and give him away. He should have realized she would remember from two years earlier when she’d been in the hospital and he’d told her. She’d been barely conscious of anything, grieving and frightened, yet she remembered a trivial detail like his birthday.

She had insisted on celebrating Kyle’s birthdays, but that was different—far different with the spotlight on him. He stood up, the leopard in him restless at his sudden edgy mood swing—at the adrenaline surging through his veins.

“I made this for you.”

Her trip to town Joshua had reported. He’d scrambled to send bodyguards with her, men she wouldn’t realize were there to protect her. This was why. This package she held out to him. He took it from her hand, surprised at the weight of it. She looked anxious.

“The big question,” she teased, shifting from one foot to the other. “What does one get for the man who has everything?”

He set the package on the table, running his hand over the thin paper, the pads of his fingers absorbing the texture. His first ever birthday present. Some part of him still didn’t trust the feeling and wanted to run, but another part wanted to savor the moment, to draw out the anticipation of seeing what she got just for him.

He took a breath, let it out and tore off the paper. His own face stared up at him, half man, half leopard. The power of the leopard was in the eyes, golden and focused and staring at him from any angle. The painting was amazing, and captured stillness and a wild, untamed mystery. More than that, the painter seemed to know the subject, every line, every curve, the strength and remoteness, although each stroke of the brush conveyed a caress, a loving hand.

He couldn’t speak, his vocal cords paralyzed. Did she know? It wasn’t a capture of the change itself, more a picture of a dual personality. This was not the work of an amateur, although there was a certain rawness to the painting. She was good. Better than good.

“You don’t have to hang it if you don’t like it, Jake. You love leopards so much. I always notice you touching the bronze statue you have beside the stairway. And your office has amazing sculptures and paintings of leopards. I thought you’d like . . .”

His fingers settled around the nape of her neck, pulling her to him, his thumb under her chin, forcing her face upward toward his descending mouth.

Emma panicked, watching his brooding eyes go golden right before she felt his breath. Her heart stammered. His lips were velvet soft, firm, so warm and insistent. Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach. His tongue stroked across the seam of her mouth and she couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped. His other hand fisted in her hair, controlling her head, turning to the perfect angle to give him access.

Jake couldn’t have stopped himself had his life depended on it. He had waited so long to taste her, to feel the velvet-soft lips crushed under his, to seek the warm, moist paradise of her mouth. The trouble was, once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He lost all control, losing himself in the fiery heat and amazing, unique taste that was Emma.

She stayed very still for a moment, allowing his invasion. But as his demands grew, she began to respond, so that he breathed for both of them, tangling his tongue with hers in an erotic dance that sent lightning streaking through his body, making the blood pound in his shaft and every cell in his body leap to life. The leopard prowled close to the surface, demanding a mate, raking and clawing at his belly with need.

He had no choice but to lift his head for self-preservation. If he went any further, if he touched her as he ached to do, he would never stop. He took a breath, staring down at her face, memorizing every detail.

Emma stepped back, her eyes a little glazed. “What was that?” she asked, struggling for breath.

“That was a thank-you. I love the painting.” He flashed a smile at her. “I’ve never actually had a birthday present before. This is my first.”

She frowned. “Never? Why would—”

His look stopped her midsentence.

The tension drained out of her, although she still had a wary expression on her face. “Then I’m very glad I painted it for you. It wasn’t easy keeping it a secret, but you’re gone a lot these days and that gave me the extra time.”

He frowned. He had an excellent sense of smell and it was odd that he hadn’t noticed the scent of paint. “Where did you work on it?”

Emma fairly beamed at him, making him want to gather her back into his arms.

“Joshua built me a small room in the barn. It’s not like you go there often, so we thought it the best possible place to keep a secret.”

Every muscle in his body contracted. The leopard leapt, raking at him, snarling in protest. Even his cock tightened, a hard, pulsing weapon threatening to wreak vengeance. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “What did you say?”

Emma flashed another grin. “Can you believe it? We managed to actually keep the painting a secret. It was really difficult to get the lighting right. Poor Joshua had to change it about a hundred times before I was satisfied. I hadn’t painted in a long while, so I was nervous about doing it for you. He was great, though, when I told him how important it was to me.”

Her voice faded in and out as hot blood surged and retreated, ebbing and flowing like a series of tidal waves. Thunder crashed in his ears and he breathed down the black jealousy that threatened to break free. He tried not to picture Joshua alone with Emma, their two heads together, so close, a breath apart. He curled his fingers into a tight fist.

He’d never been a jealous man. This horrific emotion shaking him was ugly and destructive. He fought for control, shocked at his inability to stop the rising tide of anger. He wanted to feel Joshua’s neck beneath his fingers, feel the man choking, the breath leaving his body. He wanted to rake open the belly, the fierce need primitive and strong.

“Just how great was he?” His voice was a growl, a threat rumbling in his throat.

He turned on Emma, his much larger frame looming over hers, backing her against the sink, trapping her body against the counter, one arm coming down on either side of her to form a cage. “How great, Emma?”

Danger hummed in the air. Emma felt the tension in the room heighten but wasn’t certain why. What it did to her body was frightening. Her breasts tightened, nipples peaking. Arousal teased at her stomach and thighs. Hot liquid pooled and her womb spasmed. Her breath came in a ragged rush. She was all too aware of the heat of his body, of every muscle moving beneath his skin. His eyes glittered like old gold, and his mouth put erotic fantasies in her head.