The Trouble with Temptation (25 page)

Two men separated themselves from the crowd—they were in civilian clothes—and sober as far as Hannah could tell.

As they came closer, Tank made a quick call into dispatch for an ambulance and then he focused a pair of hard hazel eyes on Brannon. “Explain this to me, son. Just how did you break his arm defending yourself? If I recall correctly—”

A high-pitched wail came from Lloyd as Levon and Devin hauled him to his feet. Levon had stabilized Lloyd’s arm—he’d been a field medic in the army up until two years ago. Hannah couldn’t fault how efficiently he’d done it.

Tank cocked a brow and then looked back at Brannon. “As I was saying, if I—”

Lloyd wailed again.

“For the love of Mary, boy, have some dignity and quit your caterwauling!” Tank bellowed.

“It fucking hurts!” Lloyd sobbed, leaning heavily against Devon. He shot Levon a dirty look. “That idiot you got there got no idea how much it hurt when he…” He fumbled to a stop as he looked at his stabilized arm.

Levon folded his hands behind his back. “I apologize, Mr. Hansen. When I broke my leg during my last tour, I discovered it was a lot more painful to leave the broken limb
unstabilized
, but if you’d like me to unwrap it, I can do that.” He gave Lloyd a placid, unperturbed smile.

Lloyd muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.

“In my day, when somebody did something to help a man out, he said
thank you
,” Tank said. Then he looked back at Brannon. “One more time.”

Brannon looked at Hannah. “He called her a whore.”

Then he looked back at Tank. “He was in her face and he called her a whore. So I got in his face and asked him if he’d like to repeat that. I had my hand on his shoulder and he told me to stop touching him.” A smirk of a smile lit Brannon’s features.

It was terrible and primeval and juvenile, but that gleam that came into his eyes made Hannah’s heart race. She rested a hand on her belly and tried to think calming, soothing thoughts.

It wasn’t working.

Brannon, totally unaware of how off-topic her thoughts were getting, shrugged. “I stopped touching him.” He shrugged. “I might have pushed him … hard. He went down and got up, punched me. Twice. I told him each time he needed to stop and get off my property. I didn’t strike back or attempt to defend myself until he went at me a third time.”

“That’s a bunch of
bullshit
,” Lloyd snapped.

“No. It’s not.” Hannah rubbed her hand over her belly, then gasped as the baby kicked in response.

Brannon’s eyes flew to her.

“It’s okay.” She fought not to smile at him. It so didn’t seem to be the time. Shifting her gaze over to Tank, she gestured to Lloyd. “It’s no secret there’s no love lost between Lloyd and me. He’s been getting in my face off and on ever since that incident with Joanie. Last week, I had to call Gideon after Lloyd threw something on my car when I was driving—”

“You can’t prove I did that!” Lloyd protested.

Hannah ignored him. “There’s a police report about it and I’ve talked to Gideon about Lloyd and his hassling twice. I’m about to file a restraining order.” Curling her lip at the man in question, she added, “As a matter of fact, I think Gideon’s office is my next stop when I leave here.”

“You ain’t got cause, bitch!” Lloyd jerked away from Devin and then went an ugly shade of pasty white as he fell, off-balance, into Levon.

“You called me a whore,” Hannah said. “You accused me of sleazing my way into Brannon’s bed just to con him out of child support. You
repeatedly
get into my face and invade my personal space and put your hands on me. You grabbed me not even five minutes ago and called me a fat cunt, told me that some man—maybe even
you
—would teach me a lesson. I think I’ve got cause.”

The pasty white had long since gone red.

Hannah toasted him. “I told you to stay out of my way, Lloyd.”

He roared. Forgetting his arm, forgetting the sheriff and his deputies, he lunged in her direction. In the process, he rammed into Tank who had moved to block him.

Five seconds later, he was on his ass, screaming in agony.

“Well, I think you’ll be spending some time in lock-up, Lloyd.” Tank’s ruddy face was bland as he shook his head at the wailing man. “You need to cool off, son.”

Hannah studied him over the rim of her glass.

She wondered if she had an icicle’s chance in hell of talking Joanie into leaving while her darling husband was taking his time out.

*   *   *

“The baby kicked.”

It was nearly four hours later.

The memorial was supposed to have ended nearly two hours ago, but it ended up dragging on longer than planned, and not just because of Lloyd Hansen’s meltdown.

Nearly forty-five minutes after the sheriff and his men had followed the ambulance and its furious patient off the winery grounds, a decidedly disheveled Moira McKay had emerged from the trees.

They wouldn’t have thought much of it.

Except Gideon Marshall came from that same area ten minutes later.

Nobody said much of anything at first—and they definitely said nothing within earshot of Moira, but they did say plenty after the general surprise died down.

Brannon wasn’t sure he could handle one more question that had to do with his sister and Gideon.

He really couldn’t.

He had desperately needed a reprieve. This … well, hell. It was definitely something to distract him. Feeling like
he
had been kicked, he stared at Hannah.

She looked serene, unfazed.

Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he tried to form some sort of a response. “I … you … what?”

She smiled at him. She’d pulled out the two long, skinny sticks that had held her hair in some sort of complicated twists and now her golden brown hair fell in gleaming skeins to twine around her shoulders and breasts. The sun caressed those golden strands and her skin, making Brannon jealous. He’d do anything to play across her hair and skin the way the sunlight did, caressing her at will.

That smile … it was mysterious and female and as old as time. She brought a hand to the ripe swell of her belly and rubbed it. She’d done that today, often.

“The baby kicked.” Then the smile faded and she looked away. “It was right before Lloyd decided to make an ass of himself again.”

“If he touches you again, I’m going to break more than his arm.”

Hannah arched a brow. “Caveman.”

Shoving off the railing, Brannon came to her. “Absolutely.” Then he reached out, letting his hand hover above her belly. “Can I…?”

She responded by reaching out and taking his hand, guiding it to her belly. “She kicks there,” she murmured, holding his palm in a spot just to the left her navel. “Right there.”

“She.” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “You always say she.”

Hannah just shrugged. “Yeah … I just … I don’t mean to. I don’t really care if it’s a boy or a girl. I just want a healthy baby. But I have a feeling she’s a girl.”

He rubbed his hand in a circle around her belly.

Then, staring into her eyes, he dragged his hand, cupping one of her breasts through the dress. “I want you,” he said bluntly.

Hannah slicked her tongue across her lips. “It’s … um…” She looked around.

“There’s nobody here. I had everybody take the rest of the day off.” Staring into her eyes, he moved his fingers to the buttons of her dress and started to free them, one by one.

Her breasts rose and fell, her breaths ragged, and in moments, her dress hung open, framing the lush, ripe curves of her body. Rose lace cupped her breasts and he freed the front catch, watching as her breasts swung free. “You’re getting bigger,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She made a face. “I know. Half my bras don’t fit. I have to go…” Her voice hitched as he cupped her breasts and squeezed her nipples slowly. “Shopping.”

“Let me take you.”

Her gaze flew to his.

“I’ve had a hundred fantasies about the kind of silk and lace I’d like to see you in. And even more about the kind of silk and lace I’d like to peel you out of.” He tugged on her nipples and watched as her lashes fluttered and fell low, shielding her eyes.

A flush started low on her breasts, spreading upward and he dipped his head, pressing his mouth to the center of her breastbone, right where that pretty pink blush began.

She reached up, cupping the back of his head.

Brannon caught her hips and slid his hands inside her panties. They were cut low, the waistband going under the faint swell of her belly. He pushed them down and when they hit her knees, she wiggled until she could step out of them.

She was all but naked now and he still wore the clothing he’d donned that morning for the memorial.

Hannah slid one hand down the front of his shirt and Brannon felt his muscles jump in response.

His cock pulsed and when that hand slid down, down, down, he could feel his balls drawing tight against him in anticipation.

Before she could start to stroke him through his trousers, he pulled back.

Catching her hands, he guided them back to the smooth wood that formed the railing around the deck. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice low and guttural.

She watched him as he undid his belt and button to his trousers, then freed himself. He removed nothing else. He didn’t have the patience. Going back to her, he cupped her face while she lifted her hands to his shirt.

As he stroked his tongue along the curve of her lower lip, Hannah loosened and tugged his tie free.

He had no idea what she did with it.

He could feel the tips of her fingers brushing against his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt and he decided, yeah, maybe getting some of his clothes out of the way wasn’t a bad idea … not if it involved her touching him.

Then she pushed his shirt open and dragged her nails down the simple white undershirt he’d pulled on hours earlier.

He hissed out a breath.

She bit his lip.

Grabbing her hips, he boosted her up onto the wide, fat lip of the railing.

She gasped and caught onto his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, moving to stand between her thighs.

She shot a nervous look over her shoulder.

He curled an arm around her waist, staring into her eyes.

“I won’t let you fall.”

Bit by bit, she relaxed and when he nudged against her, she shuddered and widened her thighs, gripping his hips with her knees.

The wet heat of her pussy kissed the head of his cock and Brannon gritted his teeth against the urge to thrust, deep, hard, fast.

Instead, he watched her as he filled her, slow and sweet and easy. She stretched around him and he watched her head fall back, gritted his teeth as she whimpered and wiggled and rolled her hips forward to take more of him.

Her lashes drooped low.

“Look at me.”

But she didn’t.

Tightening the steadying arm he had around her waist, Brannon slid his free hand up to cup her jaw, splaying his fingers into her hair. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rougher now, hunger making him half wild.

Hannah’s lids lifted.

Need made her eyes almost black.

He swiveled his hips in the cradle of hers and she cried out.

Her muscles clamped down on him and he arched his hips, slamming harder into her. At the same time, he tugged her closer, angling her hips. She tightened the grip she had on his knees.

He swore.

Couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

Pulling her up against him, he turned.

Hannah cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her weight drove her down on his cock. It took less than three seconds to get to the picnic table, roughly the same amount of time to lay her down and then he drove deeper, harder inside her.

She cried out.

It still wasn’t enough.

Catching her legs behind the knees, he surged within her.

“Brannon!”

*   *   *

Hannah reached up, fisting her hands in the lapels of his shirt, hanging loose off his shoulders.

She tried to arch up, to rub herself against him—she was so close. Her orgasm was just a whisper away. One flex of his hips and she’d—

She keened out his name as he withdrew. She gulped air, staring up at him.

The table beneath her was hard, flat, warmed by the sun. Brannon’s body was just as hard, even warmer. She felt caught, trapped, surrounded.

He came down on her and moved up.

It shifted his body’s angle, had him rubbing against her clit and she whimpered.

Sunlight shone down, forming a nimbus around him that made him almost painful to look at.

Tugging him closer, she pressed her mouth to his.

He kissed her, his tongue demanding entrance even as his cock took it.

She opened for him—in every way. So close … so …

“Say you want me,” Brannon muttered against her mouth.

“I…” She panted, hardly able to breathe now.

“Say it.” His voice was insistent, impatient.

“I want you.”

“Say you…”

But the words faded away and he shifted, burying his face in her hair. “Hannah.”

That was it. Simply her name.

His cock pulsed, jerked—and she lost it, shattering beneath him and coming hard.

*   *   *

Say you want me …
Hannah squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the bits and pieces of a fragmented memory tried to break free.

Say you want me
.

She sucked in a breath and as she did so, she caught the scent of Brannon. It was in the air, on her skin. Everywhere. Surrounding her.

Like she’d gotten caught in a riptide, Hannah’s mind jerked away from her and she found herself caught and tumbling in the current of memory streaming free.

“I want you. Say you want me.” Brannon rasped the words against her lips before he lifted his head up to stare at her, the demand on his face clear.

“Want … I guess that’s one way to phrase it
.” I want chocolate three times a day. I want to sleep until noon and stay up to watch the sunset over the river. But I don’t always get what I want.
She didn’t tell him that, though. Instead, she guided his mouth back to hers.