The Rancher's Untamed Heart (16 page)

When we finished up the coffee and the talk, Brandon stood up.

“Well, it’s getting late,” he said. He was talking to Clint, but his eyes were on Will, and they were hungry.

They obviously were not suffering from any sort of pledge to abstain from having sex.

For a split second, I cheerfully hated them. I came to my senses almost immediately, of course. They had known each other for years and the love and respect that they had for each other shone through all of their actions.

Clint and I had still only known each other for two months. I thought that I loved him already, although I hadn’t said it, but I couldn’t look at us the same way.

Even though I wanted to.

I stood up quickly, too, not wanting to overstay our welcome any more. Clint and Will followed us to the front door, and I grinned at Will, saying all the right polite things as Brandon took his hand and pulled him away, shutting the door in our faces.

Clint took my hand and towed me towards his house, as urgent as Brandon.

Unlike Will, I put my foot down.

“What are you doing?” I asked, “I can walk, I’ll get to the house.”

He nodded and let go of my hand, walking at my side. He was still tense and watchful, though, and didn’t speak.

We marched back to his door. When we stepped inside the pleasant kitchen, Clint slammed the door behind us.

I turned and opened my mouth to demand what the hell had gotten into him, but he was already on me.

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me roughly to him, pressing his mouth to mine in a demanding kiss.

I gasped and he didn’t even bother to deepen the kiss, just gripped my arms more tightly and claimed me with his mouth.

Finally, he released me and pressed his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes as we both gasped for breath. I was awed by the depth of feeling in his eyes.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Clint growled.

“What?” I asked.

“The way those men looked at you,” he said. “I won’t ever let them hurt you.”

I laughed, a little shakily.

“Clint, I’m fine,” I said.

He didn’t respond.

“Really,” I insisted, “They didn’t come within twenty yards of me, and you were right there. We were on an ATV and they were walking, for Pete’s sake.”

He stood up a little straighter and pulled me against his chest in a crushing hug.

“I can’t lose you,” he said. His deep voice was low with emotion, and I could feel it rumble out from his chest.

“You won’t, I’m fine,” I murmured.

He sighed.

I wrapped my arms around him and leaned into his manly, warm chest. It was obvious that he wasn’t ready to let me go, so I shut my eyes and leaned into him, enjoying the spicy smell of his aftershave and sweat. He worked hard, and that always smelled good to me.

“I don’t think I can ever let you go,” he said.

I looked up into his eyes. I didn’t know what to do here. Normally, this is when I would say something flippant and turn away. It was what had ended many of my other relationships. I couldn’t bear to let anyone, any man, close enough to me. They’d felt the distance and drifted away.

Was I brave enough to allow Clint closer than any of those men before?

Brave or not, I couldn’t risk losing him.

“Clint,” I said, softly, still looking up into those big gorgeous eyes of his, full of caring, “Clint, I won’t ever let you get away. You’re all I think about, and I want you in my life forever. Nothing will change that, will it?”

He shook his head.

“I need you,” he said, urgently, still holding me tightly. “I need to feel you, I need to touch you and know that you’re real.”

I nodded.

“Of course,” I said.

His lips captured mine in a searing kiss. I threw my arms around his neck and clung to him for a long minute, enjoying the kiss, feeling the passion light in my belly.

I pulled my hands away and slipped them around his waist, sliding them down to feel the tight curve of his high, muscular ass. His old jeans were worn and soft, and I enjoyed the feel of them under my hands.

Clint took his mouth away from mine and pressed it against my neck, claiming me in a hard kiss. I could feel his lips on the edge of my hairline, and was briefly thankful that he wasn’t going to leave a mark somewhere visible.

His wallet, though, was keeping me from squeezing a double handful of that perfect posterior, and I pulled it out of a pocket, feeling the smooth leather under my fingers, and threw it to the floor. He grumbled against my neck, but didn’t protest, and I took advantage, grabbing a hold of his firm ass and squeezing hard, feeling the muscles and strength under my hands, enjoying the way he shifted and flexed underneath them.

I used his ass to pull him closer to me, sealing us together, no air between us. I could feel the heat of his body through my clothing and his, and I longed to have the hot slide of my naked skin against his. I still had not seen him naked, only briefly shirtless, and I was so curious about how his body would look bare before me.

He grunted into my neck and reached his own hands down, grabbing my ass and pulling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moved my hands up to his shoulders, holding myself close against him.

His mouth claimed mine again, and he kissed me with fire and salt as he stepped forward and pressed me against the wall. All I could do was throw my arms around his neck again and hang on as he moved me where he wanted me. I was surrendering myself to him completely, and I loved it.

I moaned into his mouth and he growled in reply, pressing me harder against the wall. I could feel the hard heat of of cock straining against the denim of the jeans he was wearing, twitching slightly between my thighs.

The thought of how his cock could fill me, of how if we were both naked he could simply slip between my thighs and take me right against this wall, made me tremble with desire.

Clint stepped back, putting me carefully back on my feet.

“Too far,” he said. “I’m sorry, Naomi.”

His eyes, when they met mine, held fire and passion and, yes, regret. They were conflicted and wounded, and the caring in them made me want to simply hold Clint and never let him go. I stared into them without speaking for a moment, still panting, enjoying the sight of his passion and the stormy blue of his eyes.

“Why?” I asked.

He shut his eyes, and it was as though the light had gone off in my world, I was no longer captivated by his gaze and his passion and I slumped a little against the wall.

I was breathing heavily, panting slightly with passion. I wanted to grab Clint and shake him, or kiss him, or throw him over my shoulder and drag him back to my cave.

He was so maddening, getting me worked up and then holding back. I shut my eyes and leaned back, regretting our agreement. I wanted him to take me to bed, not leave me frustrated - again.

After four deep breaths, I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked. His eyes were full of concern.

"No, of course not," I said, smiling up at him. "Wait," I said, almost immediately. "That's not true. I am tired of being frustrated, Clint."

He nodded.

"Me too," he said, "It's my fault, though, not yours, and you shouldn't have to deal with it."

I eyed him.

"What's going on with you?" I asked.

Clint shrugged.

"I'm serious. You blow hot and cold and you don't tell me what's going on. Why are you so afraid of those men?" I demanded.

I was stepping away from the wall now, pointing at Clint, just about jabbing my finger into his chest. He needed to explain himself to me.

The tall rancher glared a little.

"I'm not afraid of them," he said. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt. That's very different."

Spare me from masculine pride.

"Why are you afraid of those men hurting me?" I asked.

"Because they would," he said, simply. "They'd hurt you for fun, or to punish me for not selling, or because they had an opportunity, or because the day was ending in Y."

I blinked. "Are they seriously that much of a problem in the area?" I asked.

He nodded. "Brandon is the only hand who will live out here, no matter how much I offer to pay, because Will isn't to their taste. The men with wives or daughters, no way."

"Why hasn't anyone arrested them?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes I forget that you work for the government," he said.

I stiffened. I was so sick of him criticizing my job.

Before I could say anything, though, he continued. "A few girls have tried. The ranchers were out of the clink in twelve hours, and the girls or their fathers or boyfriends or brothers ended up in jail for a few years."

"Are you kidding me?" I demanded. "How on earth did that happen?"

"The government isn't always honorable, Naomi," he said. "The sheriff around here is in his pocket, and there are always a few judges that can be bribed. A few of us have thought about bribing them right back, but we know better than to try it, we'd all end up behind bars."

"This has to stop," I said, flatly.

"It does," he agreed, "And you will not be the one to stop it. You will be the one to stay here where it's safe."

"Like hell I will!" I cried.

Clint picked up my hand in one of his massive ones. Carefully, he held it with both of his and traced the lines of my palm with his large, blunt fingers.

When he looked up and looked into my eyes, his own blue orbs were full of firm resolve.

"Naomi," he said. "These men will hurt you, and this isn't your fight. I can't let that happen."

I glared.

"I'm serious," he said, "Can't we just have a nice evening?"

I shrugged. "I always want to have a nice evening with you," I admitted.

The rest of our evening was mostly good. We watched a few episodes of bad television and went to our separate bedrooms after a long hug.