Smoking Hot (15 page)

He began to move faster, stroking her long and hard. She strained, letting the friction of their bodies carry her over the edge. Little earthquakes erupted inside her. She cried out. Her body clenched. She grabbed his shoulders.

He plunged inside her once, twice, then sucked in a deep breath. She watched through half closed eyes and saw the pleasure she had given him. It didn't matter that she hadn't been on top. It didn't matter at all. She still accomplished what she needed to.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, but a thread of fear weaved its way through her. Had she let a little piece of herself go? What would she give up next? No, it was only this one time, she told herself, but the feeling that she'd been weak was still with her.

“Don't analyze it,” Dillon told her.

Being on top might not mean much to him. It was only sex, after all, but to her it meant she was in control of the situation. If she was vulnerable, she opened herself to hurt.

A shudder wracked her body. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, holding her close. She drew her knees closer to her chest. “I'm tired. I want to rest,” she said. His lips brushed her forehead as she closed her eyes. His warmth wrapped around her like the sun bursting from behind a dark cloud.

It
won't last,
the voice inside her head warned.

I
know.

When Raine woke the next morning, she was in her own bed. She sat up and looked around, feeling as if she'd tied one on the night before. If she weren't so sore she'd think she'd dreamed the whole thing.

No dream had ever been that vivid, that real.

She eased to the side of the bed and sat there for a moment. Dillon had controlled the night and she let him. In the light of day, her fixation about being the one on top seemed silly. Had it killed her to let go? No.

She got up, grimacing at the throbbing between her legs. Sore, yes, but the pleasure had been worth the pain. She'd never been so out of control. So what did that say about her sex life?

Once she was under the gentle spray of the shower she couldn't help reliving the previous night. Would voyeurism be considered a crime if the persons involved knew they were being watched? Dillon said the threesome had known there might be people on the other side of the window. They hoped someone would be watching.

She squirted a large dollop of bath gel onto the palm of her hand. The apricot scent filled the shower cubicle. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let all her troubles drift away. As she slid the orange gel down her arm, her senses came alive. Erotic images filled her mind. Scott and Nick touching Kara, fondling her breasts, their fingers probing between her legs.

A shiver of need swirled over her as an ache began to build. Just as suddenly, the water coming from the showerhead began to cool. She shivered and quickly washed away the soap. Damned hot water heater. They needed a new one. Three and a half minutes was not enough time to take a shower.

She stepped out and grabbed the threadbare towel. They needed new linens, too. It was always something. More repairs than she could keep up with. With all the added problems, they were going to be in a real bind if they didn't find the bank robbers. Dillon said he would help, but would he only cause her more trouble?

She dried off the best she could before she tossed the damp towel over the shower rod and opened the door. She padded down the hall and stepped into the bedroom, but came to an abrupt stop when she saw Dillon sprawled on her bed.

He glanced up. His heated gaze slowly moved over her body, touching the side of her neck, skimming her breasts, her waist, the damp curls between her legs, then slowly made the trek back to her eyes. “I love it when you're naked.”

She exhaled, not realizing she'd held her breath. Damn it, how could one hungry look send her sexual appetite into overdrive? She forgot about everything she needed to do. The only thing going through her mind was making love with him, but that would only solve her initial problem of needing physical release.

“You're beautiful,” he said, then closed his eyes and inhaled. “Apricot. Nectar of the gods.”

She cocked an eyebrow, then strolled to the dresser. “Bath gel. Thrifty Market on the corner of Main Street. Dollar twenty-nine, unless I have a coupon.” She opened the bottom drawer, ignoring his quick indrawn breath as she dug around for a pair of panties. That was a dumb move, she thought to herself. She grabbed a lace-edged pair of sage green panties and quickly pulled them on, then shoved the drawer shut.

With her back still toward him, she opened the top drawer and dug around for a bra. Her hand scraped across her .22 pistol as she hunted for a T-shirt, but she quickly dismissed the idea of removing one of her problems by shooting him. He might be able to help her. She didn't know for sure. Besides, he was immortal. He would heal. She slammed the drawer closed, opting not to wear a bra.

“Are you angry about something?” he asked.

“No.” The one word came out clipped, betraying her emotional upheaval.

He was beside her in an instant, pulling her against him. She inhaled his rugged scent, letting it wrap around her. She didn't want to relax around him.

“Tell me what's bothering you,” he said.

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Last night?”

She pushed out of his arms, needing to put a little space between them. She went to the closet and grabbed a pair of her jeans that were nicer than the jeans she usually wore to do chores. She didn't try to figure out why she wanted to wear the black jeans that fit snug against her body. She pulled them on, sliding them up until they rested low on her hips. She wouldn't try to figure out why she grabbed an olive green T-shirt that she knew looked good on her, and poked her arms through the armholes, tugging it over her head. When she turned around he was leaning against her dresser, staring. “What?” she finally asked.

“You look hot.”

“I have chores to do,” she mumbled and started past him. She must be losing her mind. Why else would she want to wear her good clothes to do chores? She grabbed her boots and a pair of socks. She had to move around him to get to the door. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was almost there, but he moved fast and blocked her from leaving the room.

“What?” she asked again with more than a touch of exasperation, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

He lightly ran his fingers down her arm. She shivered.

“What did I do?”

She swallowed hard. What had he done? She couldn't think straight when he was so close. She moved to the bed and sat on the edge as she pulled on her socks. The act of pulling on socks and boots worked to ground her in the reality of her life.

“You took me to a place and made me watch those people,” she finally spat out, and knew that wasn't what bothered her.

“I didn't force you.”

“You should've asked before you took me there.” She clamped her lips together and tugged the first boot on with more force than she needed.

“Would you have gone if I had?”

“No,” she blurted.

“But you enjoyed watching them have sex. The way the men touched her, touched each other.”

Her movements slowed as images danced across her mind. Her stomach began to churn because she knew he was right. She'd enjoyed every second of it.

“There's nothing wrong with having needs.”

She grabbed her other boot and glanced up at him. “Even perverted ones?”

“It was consensual sex between three adults. Where was the perversion?”

She yanked her boot on and jumped to her feet. “I don't know! But you told me to watch, and I did. You told me to feel, and I did. You were on top, and I let you.” Her chest heaved as she tried to draw her emotions back under control.

“That's your problem? That you gave up control for a brief moment?”

She marched toward him, but stopped when she was only a foot away. “Yes, that's what pisses me off,” she snarled. “I never give up control. Never. You won't trick me again.” She stormed past him.

“But you enjoyed it, so why was it wrong?”

She pretended she didn't hear him. She kept walking until she was in the kitchen preparing the coffee pot. She dumped a scoop of coffee into the brew basket. She started to replace it, but at the last second dumped another scoop inside. She only hoped Dillon was gone when she turned around. She didn't want to discuss last night with him. She gripped the counter, her knees growing weak just thinking about the way she'd responded.

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” she muttered, pushing away from the counter and striding out the back door. She let it slam behind her. Once outside, she continued down the steps and toward the barn. Visions filled her mind when she remembered what had taken place the last time she was inside.

“Is no place safe?” She turned and went to the chicken coop. She hated chickens. They always pecked her. After opening the gate, she grabbed the basket and went inside. The first chicken glared at her. Raine glared back and reached beneath the feathery creature and grabbed the two eggs the fat hen was sitting on. She almost dared the hen to peck. The hen looked put out that Raine took her eggs, but she didn't peck. Raine gathered twenty eggs from the sitting birds without a single injury. Maybe they knew she would have chicken and dumplings if they pecked her.

She strode back toward the house and through the back door. She quickly scanned the room. No Dillon. Good. Maybe he would leave her alone for a while. The coffee was ready so she poured some into a cup and took a long swallow. She almost choked. Two scoops might have been a little too much. Definitely an eye opener.

Someone knocked on the front door. She jumped, almost spilling coffee down her shirt. Some of the hot liquid sloshed onto her hand. “Damn it,” she muttered and turned the cold water on. The water cooled her hot skin. She let it run for a few seconds then inspected her hand. A little red but nothing more.

The knocking started again. If that was Dillon she'd castrate him. She grabbed a dish towel and patted her hands dry. Her forehead wrinkled. Maybe she wouldn't castrate him, but she could think about it!

The knocking grew louder. “I'm coming!” She tossed the towel and hurried to the front door. She glanced at the clock as she hurried past. It was still early. Only eight. Who the hell dropped by at this time? She unlocked the door and flung it open. Her answer was standing on the front porch, eyes just as cold as when she first interrogated Raine. Now what?

“I thought we could talk some more.” Emily Gearson smiled.

Raine raised her eyebrows. “A girl-to-girl chat?”

“You could say that. May I come in?”

“Texas Rangers don't have chats. They fish for answers and they keep baiting the hook until they find out everything they need to know. Come in if you want.”

Emily opened the door and stepped inside. “I have a job to do. You can't fault me for that.” She sniffed. “Is that coffee? The coffee at the café was pretty awful.”

Those were the first genuine words that came out of the woman's mouth, and Raine had to agree with her. The café in town had the worst coffee. She had a feeling they reused the coffee filters until they petrified. “I hope you like it strong.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Raine brought down another cup. It didn't match. The cups were gifts throughout the years. A birthday present from one of his cronies when Grandpa turned sixty that had Old Fart plastered more than a dozen times in different fonts and sizes. Raine's fingers brushed against it, but she brought out a plain dark blue cup instead. She poured coffee into the cup and looked at the ranger. “Cream? Sugar?”

Emily shook her head. “Straight up. Too many years on stakeouts. We always had coffee but never enough cream or sugar. I got used to drinking it black.”

“Back porch?”

Emily nodded.

It just seemed the safer thing to do. The ranger had been covertly looking around when they were in the house.

“This is good coffee,” Emily said as she sat down. She took another drink and crossed her legs as she leaned back.

They could've been two friends sharing the start of a new day. But they weren't. The ranger might look relaxed, but Raine figured it was all an act. Two could play that game.

“Why did you become a ranger?”

Emily looked surprised that Raine had asked a question. “I grew up with tales of my great-great-grandfather the Texas Ranger,” she said after a moment's hesitation. “He lived in Tokeen for a while. The town doesn't exist anymore, but the stories found their way down through the generations. I thought it would be cool if I followed in his footsteps.”

Raine was surprised the other woman had opened up. Maybe Emily was a little surprised too, because she sat a little straighter and wore a grim look as though she might have somehow failed in her duties. Raine's father once said never make an enemy out of someone if they'll make a better ally down the road. Raine had a feeling she might need the other woman's help someday.

“It was the same for me.” Raine sat in the other rocker. “One of my favorite times growing up was stopping by my dad's office when he was sheriff. He'd discuss case files—”

Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Nothing specific. Generic stuff. Usually cold files. Then he would ask me to solve the case.”

“Did you?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

“What about the robbery? Are you going to solve that one?”

“I don't have much to go on. Everyone seems to think it was me and Grandpa.”

“Was it?”

“What do you think?” Raine countered, meeting the woman's gaze.

Emily studied her. “I'll reserve judgment for now.”

“That was noncommittal.”

“I don't like to accuse unjustly. I'm more of a know-all-the-facts type of person.” She leaned back in her chair again. “If I find out you're guilty, I'll prosecute you to the full extent of the law.”

“I would expect no less.”

Emily's gaze slowly scanned the area. “It's nice out here. Peaceful. I would think it would be hard to let go of this ranch.”

“I don't plan on letting the property go. We may not be rich, but we get by. My grandfather is an honest man. There's not a criminal bone in his body.”

“Yet he was accused of stealing a horse,” she spoke almost to herself.

Raine tensed. Of course she would know about that. “The charges were dropped.” She pronounced each word slowly and distinctly, forcing herself to keep her temper under control. Why did everyone keep bringing up the damn horse?

“Just the same, it was a criminal act.” Emily brought the cup to her lips and drained the last of her coffee.

“The owners were the real criminals for letting the poor horse starve. You could count the creature's ribs.”

Emily didn't say anything as she got up, still staring at the landscape as though she found something of particular interest. “I can't say what he did was right. He broke the law. But I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing, either,” she murmured.

Raine stood. “Right or wrong, he's not a criminal.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But all the evidence points toward the two of you.”