Heather's Gift (15 page)

She couldn’t. She loved him, regardless of the complications it brought and the nights she was spending agonizing over it. She loved him. Now, if she could just help heal him, and somehow, someway, love him enough to help him to let go of the past, and his brothers’ lovers.

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Chapter Twenty

“I truly meant to be here as you ordered. Satisfying your every wish is, of course, my
fondest desire. Alas, I was called away. I am certain you can find other ways to amuse yourself
though. If nothing else, use your hand!”

The sarcasm in the letter wasn’t easy to miss. Sam’s eyes narrowed as an involuntary grin tugged at his lips. He raised the scented paper to his nose, inhaled and closed his eyes as nostalgia and hot, searing lust washed over him. Windsong. It had been many, many years since he had smelled that particular scent. Damn, it had been even longer since he had heard of it. The smell of her perfume sent a shaft of bittersweet longing through his soul. He had been a teenager the last time he had smelled it. And none too impressed with the romance of the scent. Now, it touched him, as few things had in the past years.

He folded the letter carefully, took a last lingering smell of it, then tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes. Of course, he wasn’t about to let her get away with this.

Use his hand, he snorted silently. He had been using his damned hand too often in the past months. The memory of the stables, Heather on her knees, his cock tunneling into her mouth, overtook him. Okay, twice he hadn’t used his hand, and he wasn’t about to use it now. The first being months ago, beneath the rays of a full moon as she kissed her way down his body. Tara had, of course, walked up on them not seconds after he shot his release down Heather’s throat. Her fury, and Heather’s chagrin, had been thick in the heavy silence of the night.

He looked around the room, wondering where the hell she could be. He knew she had come up here after dinner. Knew she must have found the brown paper sack he had left, with very complete instructions on what to do and how to be waiting for him. She evidently wasn’t taking him seriously.

But she would, he assured himself. As soon as he found her she would learn exactly how serious he was. He turned and strode quickly from the room. Closing the door carefully behind him, he glanced down the hallway. The rest of the family was in the living room, enjoying the rare movie that they took time to watch. He had seen them not ten minutes ago, and Heather hadn’t been with them. He moved down the stairs, determined to check again anyway, just to be on the safe side. She wasn’t there. Cade and Brock had their women stretched out on the couches with them, watching the flickering screen silently. Marly looked worn and sleeping. Sarah didn’t look much more awake. They were dressed in short silk nighties, their Lora Leigh

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robes pooled on the floor. He had a damned good idea that his brothers had satisfied their own raging hungers earlier. Hell’s fire, he cursed silently, where could she be?

He stalked to the front door, careful to turn out the entryway light before he stepped out on the front porch.

“Sam.” Rick moved within the shadows on the far end of the porch as Sam stepped behind the concealing pine shrubbery that had been planted in front of the wide cement landing months before.

“Where is she?” He didn’t have time to argue or to beat around the bush. His cock was a raging brand beneath his jeans, his blood pounding with his need. Rick tensed, his muscular body coming to instant alert.

“She’s on duty. That means she doesn’t have time to play,” Rick snapped out. Sam frowned. “This ranch pays her fucking salary. I say she’s off tonight.”

His voice was just as harsh as Rick’s now. There were few things he had needed in his life like he needed Heather now.

“Don’t pull this shit on me, Sam,” Rick growled. “She’s part of the force. I need her to work sometimes, you know.”

Sam pushed his fingers restlessly through his hair. Rick wasn’t just an employee, he was a friend. That made the whole situation a hell of a lot harder.

“Dammit, Rick. I need her.” He fought the weary vulnerability in his own soul.

“She ran from me because she was pissed off. Now tell me where she’s at or I’ll go looking for her.”

Silence thickened between them. Even in the dim light of the moon, Sam could see Rick’s impatience, his indecision.

“You’re a menace to yourself,” he finally snarled back. “She’s out back, around the pool. She’s providing backup if it’s needed.”

“Make damned sure it’s not needed then,” Sam bit out, turning on his heel and stalking along the large porch that wrapped around the house. At the back corner, a high stone wall protected the pool area and back garden. It rose higher than his head and sheltered the pool area from the eyes of the ranch hands while they worked. Cade had ordered it built when Marly was barely sixteen, and he saw how the area filled with men while she used the pool. He slipped silently through the entrance, moving along the back porch, his gaze wandering around the area as he sought her out. The blood was pounding through his body, hardening his cock past the point that he considered bearable. He found her moments later. One of the large, padded, wooden lounge chairs had been pulled into the shelter of several low-branched trees. She was stretched out on it, one arm thrown above her head as she watched him approach her. Blue jeans conformed to her hips, thighs, and slender legs. And in the dim light of the moon that filtered through the trees, he could see the arousal, the longing in her Lora Leigh

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gaze. Her flame-red hair flowed out around her, her emerald gaze stroking the fire raging through his blood stream to a greater height. He stopped at the foot of the lounger, staring down at her, dying inside with his need for her. “You weren’t waiting for me.”

He watched as she shifted her legs, then tilted her head to watch him mockingly.

“Shame on me.” Her tone held such indulgent sarcasm that it had his teeth gritting as he fought for his own patience.

She had been around them long enough to know what a sexual challenge did to them. How it heightened their arousal, made the need so sharp, so imperative it was like a demon raging inside them.

“That’s okay, baby.” He smiled wickedly. “I found you. You should have known I would.”

She rose up on her elbows, the position highlighting her breasts, the slender line of her ribs and stomach.

“Sam, sweetie,” she said with exaggerated patience. “I’m on duty. I don’t have time to fuck with you tonight.”

“You’re off duty,” he snarled. “You work for me, by God. I decide when you’re on duty and when you aren’t.”

She arched her brow as Sam gritted his teeth at the deliberate mockery in the movement.

“So fire me.” She shrugged. “You’re so testy anymore I’d consider it a vacation to leave this damned ranch.”

He clenched his fists. The smell of Windsong and woman drifted in the air, making him weak, making him need.

“Why are you doing this?” he growled, restraining himself, determined to keep the control he was fighting so desperately for.

“Because I’m not your puppet, Sam, nor do I take orders real damned well. Get used to it, baby, because submissive never was an adjective that fit me very well.”

“Stubborn and bullheaded maybe,” he bit out, breathing harshly. “You’re pushing me too far, Heather. Farther than I would have thought possible. Keep it up, and I’ll hurt both of us.”

Her laughter was soft and filled with silky amusement as her smile lit the darkness around her.

“Be still, my heart. You do have a way with romance, Sam. It just makes my heart go all aflutter to hear your sweet nothings.” Her tone of voice pricked at him. She was pissed—no, he took that back—she was furious. Still.

“I’m not an easy man,” he whispered. “The laughter and jokes, Heather, are gone. I can’t find them anymore. And there never was much romance, baby.”

“Poor Sam.” There was a definite lack of sympathy in her voice now. “Why don’t I go down on my knees and suck you dry again in recompense. Would that help?”

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He narrowed his eyes. The memory of her on her knees, his cock pushing in her hot mouth, had his cock twitching in need.

“Would an apology help?” he asked her curiously.

“Would you mean it?” she asked him archly.

He sighed deeply as he moved closer, stopping at her shoulders then hunching down beside the lounger.

“Likely not.” He grinned as her eyes flashed with ire. “That was a damned pretty sight, Heather, and hot as hell. Watching your mouth move on me, driving me crazy.”

She snorted. “I’m sure it was, Sam. Too bad you don’t like returning the favor.”

His lips tightened as a grimace of regret flashed across his face.

“If I get my tongue inside you, my cock won’t be far behind it,” he warned her. “I want you too badly.”

“Really? Strange, I don’t feel so wanted, so I don’t think I’ll put myself out to believe it. Go see if you can convince Marly or Sarah. They might be willing to go along with your line of crap tonight.”

Sam winced. Hell, she was past mad.

“What do you want, Heather?” he asked her softly, regretfully. He understood why she was upset, knew he had pushed her when he shouldn’t have, knew his own demons were driving her away from him.

Her eyes widened with exaggerated surprise. “What makes you think I want anything? I was out here minding my own business. You’re the one intruding.”

The garden was dark, but the light of the full moon was enough to see the hard peaks of her breasts beneath her shirt. Her breathing was harder, and she appeared more than a little agitated as he raised his gaze slowly back to hers.

“I want you so bad I’m shaking with it.” He shook his head, more than a little amused at his own lack of control. “Surely that counts for something?”

She shrugged, watching him closely. “Not for much on this end, Sam,” she told him coolly. “Try me again tomorrow. Maybe I just need to think about it for a while.”

His eyes narrowed on her. She was provoking him and she damned well knew it. He looked at the lounger. The special build, like most everything in the August home, was wide and made for comfort. Before Heather could catch his intent, before he could give it much thought himself, he moved from his position quickly. Before she could do more than gasp, he had pinned her body to the thick pad, his elbows holding his weight from her chest, his legs parting hers as he settled quickly between them.

“How about I help you decide?” he bit out then and lowered his head. Sam meant the kiss to be forceful. To show her, prove to her, his claim that he could only hurt both of them with his desire for her. But the moment his lips met the petal soft curves of hers, he hesitated. He held her still, his tongue stroking over the seam of her closed lips as he stared down at her opened eyes. He nudged at the soft curves with his Lora Leigh

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own, stroked them with his tongue, fighting the compulsion to devour with greed as he savored the taste of her.

A small whimper of longing came from her as her eyelids lowered partially, sensually, a second before she parted her lips just enough to allow his tongue entrance. Sam couldn’t halt the groan that vibrated in his own chest. He couldn’t stop the need that burned in his loins like an inferno threatening to rage through his senses. She was heat and soft, silky desire. Her lips opened to him with a hesitant wariness, much as she had with their first kiss. A tentative acceptance that had his body tightening with lust. His cock throbbed with imperative demand even as he fought its insistence.

“Heather.” He whispered her name as he sipped at her lips, then stroked inside her mouth once again.

His hands moved from hers as his need to touch her overcame his need to dominate her. Her skin was so soft, so silky and smooth. He wanted to feel it against his fingertips, luxuriate in her response to him. And she was responding. Her thighs tightened on his. Her hips jerked against his, grinding her cunt against the length of his erection as his tongue stroked over hers, his lips sipping at her as he groaned at the erotic tastes he found there.

Before he ever realized his intention to do so, he had pulled her shirt from the waistband of her jeans, and his palm was sliding up her waist, his fingers trembling with the need to cup the swollen mound of her breast. Her nipples were hard; he knew they would be hot, knew she would cry out when he captured one between his thumb and forefinger.

Her nails bit at his skin through the fabric of his shirt as he rotated his hips firmly against her cunt. He could feel her heat through both pairs of jeans, and the need to sink inside her was nearly driving him insane.

“I could eat you up, right here,” he bit out as his lips moved to her throat, his hand cupping her breast as his fingers gripped her nipple, milking it and caressing the hard point as a strangled groan tore from her throat. “You make me lose all common sense when I’m around you, Heather.”

“What common sense?” Her voice was torn, ragged, as she arched into him, her neck tilting as his tongue raked over her collarbone. Sam couldn’t help but smile. Her sharp tongue was lethal. But, he had his own weapons. He shifted back, exposing her breast further as he moved toward it, his mouth watering at the thought of the pleasure to come.

* * * * *

Heather fought for breath as his lips covered her distended nipple. Heat seared her flesh, stroked her nipple as his mouth suckled at the mound firmly, his hand gripping Lora Leigh

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it, fingers caressing the underside erotically. She arched to him, a broken moan whispering from her throat.

“Someone will see,” she whispered brokenly. “Hear me.”

“Mmm.” Evidently, the thought didn’t bother him. Then she remembered who she was talking to. Sam. The same man torturing her body with the needs tearing through it was the man who would want to share her, to watch as his brothers took her. His teeth rasped at her tender nipple as the thought flared through her. She couldn’t halt the desperate clench of her womb, like a soft blow to her stomach as the image of it drifted through her mind.