Cain's Law (Cowboys on the Edge Book 3) (8 page)

Carina woke early,
the sheets cool and Cain gone. She glanced toward the curtained window. Gray light filtered through a gap. Dawn.
He’s up early.

She stretched and groaned. Her body ached, but in a good way. Sex with Cain was better than any gym workout. She was half-tempted to go back to sleep, but if he was up, he needed breakfast, and cooking was her job now. So she rose and dressed in blue jeans and a tee, smiling that having limited options meant she was ready in minutes. Still, she’d have to talk him into at least one shopping excursion. A girl needed makeup. And more than one change of clothing. He had yet to see her all done up. She liked the thought of surprising him. He thought she was beautiful just the way she was. He was cute. But he really had no idea…

After brushing her hair and her teeth she headed downstairs, halting at the kitchen door because he was there, sitting on a barstool, a dirty towel on the counter, the pieces of his pistol laid out as he applied oil to the barrel. All her warm and fuzzy feelings scattered.

As she caught her breath, she noted other things. His bare back was tense. He wore jeans and boots. Grass clippings clung to the soles of his boots. He’d been “walking the perimeter” again—what he called his turns around the yard. He did them every night, but now something was different. He was too stiff. He knew she was there—she hadn’t been quiet coming down the stairs—and yet, he hadn’t turned to give her a lazy smile.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she said softly, knowing he’d tell her what she needed to know when he was good and ready. And she might not like what he had to say. So, she gathered eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, bread from the pantry, and began preparing their meal.

Coffee was already made, half a pot still in the carafe, so he’d been up quite a while. She poured herself a cup, adding cream to kill the bitterness, and then stepped beside him as he completed putting together his weapon.

Her glance went to the one article of clothing she hadn’t seen him wearing in days. The holster attached to his belt. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he said.

His voice sounded a little rusty, and she remembered the cool sheets. “Did you get much sleep?”

He shook his head then slid the Glock into the holster. Without looking her way, he said, “Baby, you remember the rules?”

She nodded, a chill shivering over her skin, lifting goose bumps. “Food’s ready,” she said, turning away. She returned to the stove and loaded his plate before preparing her own, although her appetite was gone. Still, she’d make a show of normalcy to keep him company.

He ate methodically, as though he didn’t want to eat, but knew he needed the sustenance.

She played with hers, mostly swallowing down the coffee. A mistake. Her nerves were already stretched, and when she lifted her fork, her hand shook.

Cain made a noise, took the fork from her hand, and then turned her seat to face him. “I won’t be going back to work anytime soon.”

Carina tried to still her shaking and meet his gaze. “He’s still here, isn’t he?”

He gave a terse nod. “A rancher found the Viper hidden in a barn.”

Dread settled in her already jumpy stomach. “So we don’t even know what he’s driving.”

His gaze trailed away. “Patrols have been stepped up.”

“You can’t go without sleep. We can take turns—”

“We’ll handle this, sweetheart.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and the tears she’d tried to hold back filled her eyes. “Why won’t he let me go?” She sniffed and rubbed a hand over her nose.

“I can’t answer that.” Cain picked up a napkin and dabbed at her nose.

She took the napkin and turned away to blow. “Sorry. You have enough worries without having to console me.”

His arms came around her, and he pulled her head to his shoulder. He let out a sigh. “All he has to do is make one wrong move. Give us a reason to arrest him.”

“And you’d keep him jailed for how long?” She shook her head. “He has great lawyers.”

“Just one wrong move,” Cain whispered, and then kissed her hair.

When she glanced up, she shivered. His face was drawn into harsh lines. This was the lawman. The one you didn’t cross. She was glad he was on her side. “What do you need me to do? And don’t say nothing.”

One corner of his mouth curved. “Being cooped up wearing on you?”

“It is. Has to be making you crazy, too. Playing bodyguard’s not something you signed up for.”

“I don’t know…” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “Job definitely has its perks.”

Silently thanking him for lightening her mood, she smiled.

He tipped her chin and placed a kiss on her mouth. “Thanks for breakfast. I’m going to make some calls. See what’s happening at the station. How about you stay upstairs today?”

“Away from the windows. I know. There’s still a baseboard that needs another coat of paint.”

“Only if you want to.”

She shrugged. “I like keeping busy. Funny, that used to mean getting a manicure or shopping. Having lunch with one of Joey’s friends’ wives. I like this better.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I still owe you underwear. We’ll make that shopping trip…soon.”

She stood and turned to walk away, and he slapped one side of her butt. She didn’t look back, but her face was warm and her heart lighter as she left the room.

‡

T
hat night, Cain
waited for the patrol car to pull up to the curb in front of his place before he padded toward the bedroom. Tank was keeping watch. Again. He’d texted Cain, telling him to get some shut-eye or whatever it was he wanted to do. He’d keep an eye out for “Joey G.”

As he walked, Cain checked out the trim next to the floor. Not a drip mark. She was a natural. He should tell her she could hire out as a housepainter. Only she couldn’t charge by the hour. She’d taken nearly the entire afternoon to complete the hallway. Every time he spied her, she was bent, her sweet round butt in the air as she diligently painted with a too-small brush, because she was determined the paint would go where she put it, not where it chose to drip.

The only light inside the bedroom came from the half-closed bathroom door, the sound of the shower alerting him where she was. He smiled. This was something they hadn’t done. Showering together. He stripped quickly, leaving his weapon on the nightstand and his clothes on the floor.

His cock hardened as he ogled the woman standing on the other side of the shower curtain hung from an oval ring above the tub. The curtain was opaque and white, but she was bent over, offering a pretty, muted view of her pink bottom.

When he whipped back the curtain, she straightened and squealed, then threw the cloth she’d been using at his chest. “Don’t do that!” Her gaze roamed downward. “Hey, don’t just stand there. Water’s getting on the floor.”

He stepped over the rim of the tub while eyeing her slick body. Soap bubbles slid in ropes down her soft belly. He liked her bossy tone, and he grinned wider when she turned and held up a bar of soap.

“Since I don’t have a back brush, you’ll have to do the honors.”

He let the cloth drop and soaped his hands, then began rubbing her back, working his way downward from her shoulders. When he reached the cute dimples just above her ass, he rinsed his hands and knelt to lick the small thumbprint hollows.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “The tub floor’s too slippery for any gymnastics.”

“Shut up,” he said. “Let a man enjoy himself.”

“Huh.”

Since she didn’t offer another rebuke, he continued his exploration, palming both cheeks before trailing his tongue up the narrow divide.

“Stop!” She stiffened and tried to step forward.

But he encircled her thighs with one arm and licked her again, although now she’d tensed, trying to restrict his access. He slipped a hand between her thighs and pushed upward until his fingers rubbed her folds. “Missed a spot,” he said.

“Glad you found it.”

He found her entrance and pushed a finger inside her.

Her thighs quivered, and she inched apart her feet.

He added a finger and swirled them, listening for the telltale gasp when he stroked just the right place.

Her hand slapped the wall for support. “Cain!”

“Carina!” He kissed her cheek. “How about you get on down here?”

With the water sluicing from above, she lowered to her knees, then with his hands guiding her, bent forward to place her hands on the bottom of the tub. “We’ll slide all over the place.”

“It is a problem,” he drawled as he blinked at the falling water. “Let me figure this out.”

Kneeling behind her, he continued to plunge his fingers inside her, waiting until her back lowered in the middle, raising her ass. Now she didn’t care how much slipping and sliding they might do. He thumbed apart her folds and guided his cock to the mouth of her entrance. Only he wasn’t quite ready to sink inside. At least, not there. “Trust me?”

“Not when your voice goes all growly like that.”

He gave a dirty chuckle. Then, while working her with the fingers and thumb of one hand, he traced her divide, moving slowly downward and gently rimming her tiny puckered hole.

She gave a throaty groan. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re holding your breath. If you really wanted me to stop, you’d be yelling.”

“Think you know everything?”

He replaced the finger with his thumb and continued rubbing her tiny hole, then pushed his cock inside her channel slowly, or tried to.

She bumped backward, wiggling her butt to take more of him inside.

He let her think that was all he was going to do, pumped slowly in and out while he rubbed and rubbed. When she tossed back her head and bounced against him, he pushed his thumb inside.

“Cain!”

Her shout echoed in the bathroom, but he didn’t remove his digit. No, she was squeezing her inner muscles around him, small convulsions massaging his shaft as he thrust.

“Oh God, that feels so good. Oh fuck,” she whispered, going to her elbows and gasping as he quickened his strokes.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, rotating his thumb, massaging the rim of her tight little rosette. “Like that, do you?”

“I hate you. Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, then grew rigid and issued a keening cry.

Before her orgasm waned, he pulled his thumb free and gripped the notches of her hips to hold her still as he pounded inside her. His little wildcat braced a hand against the wall of the tub and met his thrusts, tilting higher, taking him so deep he touched her cervix. Then he was gone, come spurting deep inside her.

Spent, he pulled her torso upward to cuddle her back against his belly. She reached behind and draped an arm behind his neck. He smoothed his hands over her belly and breasts, molding her curves, soothing them both until they could breathe evenly again.

Then she rested the back of her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her temple. “Still hate me?”

She pinched his thigh. “I know I’ll blush every time you smile at me.”

He reached beyond her to turn off the water.

“I don’t want to move,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his skin.

“Bed doesn’t sound good right now?” His cock began to slide from inside her.

She moaned.

He kissed her shoulder. “Up.” He dried them both then picked her up and carried her to the bed. He cast a glance at his weapon, and then lay on his back.

She scooted close and draped her arm and thigh over his body, then nuzzled his neck. In what felt like seconds, she was asleep.

Cain liked the feel of her against him. He never again wanted to sleep with his arms empty. He kissed the top of her hair then hugged her closer. He’d give himself an hour of rest before taking another turn around the house. Nothing was more important in his life now than the woman drooling on his chest.

Cain coughed then
jerked awake in the darkness. Smoke filled his nostrils with his next inhalation.

Fire!
He shook Carina awake. “We have to get out of the house.” He pushed her off the bed and followed her to the floor.

“Clothes.”

They both scrambled to dress. He found his jeans and slipped them on, then tossed her a tee. He felt for his weapon and slipped it into the back of his waistband then crawled to the door and touched it. No heat. Her hand touched his thigh. “Stay close.” He reached up and twisted the handle, opening it a crack. Smoke swirled inside, but he saw no flames, although he did hear a distant crackle. “Keep quiet,” he whispered.

Beneath the smoke that hung in a heavy cloud above them, they crawled down one side of the hallway toward the staircase.

At the top, he looked down into the darkness. Moonlight filtered through the curtainless windows. He could see into the living room and the kitchen area. The space was clear. The fire had to be coming from the rear of the house.

“Let’s get to the garage. Stay behind me.” He rose with his back against the wall of the staircase and pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans. Holding his weapon in front of him, he began the descent. Where the hell was Tank? No sirens could be heard in the distance, so he knew Tank hadn’t called in the fire. His belly tightened. Joey was near. Maybe inside the house. He worried about Tank, but the woman clutching his waistband was his priority.