Out Of Control (9 page)

He
shifted on the bed, slid his hands beneath her ass to lift her to him and drove
home with one fierce roll of his hips. There! Oh, God, she felt so full, the long,
thick length of him stretching her.

She
lifted to meet him and the rhythm began. In and out. Thrust and retreat. Slow,
hot, his cock dragging over every nerve ending in the walls of her pussy. Each
time a little harder, deeper than the time before. He bent over her so he could
lick her nipples, and shards of lightning shot straight to her center, gripping
and clutching at his rigid length.

In
and out, in and out.

She
wrapped her legs around him, locking their bodies together and rocking her
hips. As if that was a signal, he rammed into her harder, his balls slapping
against her as he pummeled her faster and faster.

The
coil of lust wound tightly inside her unwound and reached into every part of
her as her climax built and built. As if sensing her thoughts, he drove into
her harder one last time, tumbling them both into a black velvet space filled
with fireworks.

She
was mindless, shuddering with the force of the spasms rocking her, the beat of
her heart so fierce she was sure it would burst from her chest. His cock pulsed
inside her as he shattered with the force of his release, shouting her name.

Dana
unwound her arms from his neck and—

Ouch!

Her
arms fell away, bouncing her head against the hard wood of the table. Dana sat
up, rubbing her forehead, and realized she was panting and covered with sweat.
And the dream smacked her brain.

Cole
Landry. Sex. Damn, damn, damn.

Now
it came back to her in every vivid detail, awareness still thundering through
her body. For her entire adult life, she’d tried her best to achieve sexual
satisfaction. In any form. Anything that would melt the terrible wall of ice
she’d been trapped behind all these years. She’d read everything from how-to
manuals to erotic romances. Talked to more therapists than most people ever knew.
But all to no avail. The wall remained immutable. So why now? And why with Cole
Landry? She hardly knew him, for god’s sake, and she was having erotic dreams
about him?

That’s
what you get for daydreaming. He’s beyond your reach, and even if he wasn’t, he
wouldn’t waste his time with someone with so many sexual hang-ups. He probably
just has to crook his finger and women fall into his bed.

Enough!

She
hurried on unsteady legs to the kitchen for a glass of water, drank it standing
at the sink, refilled the glass and stumbled back into the dining room on legs
still unsteady. Opening her briefcase, she pulled out her research material—copies
from the newspaper records, the note pad she’d used at the sheriff’s office,
the…Wait! Where was her Blackberry? Although she took copious notes by hand,
she always entered key facts on it. This afternoon those included a list of
things to follow up on—names, phone numbers, and addresses of people who might
be able to provide her with some insight.

Her
BlackBerry was her Holy Grail. Sometimes she felt as if they had an umbilical
cord relationship. It kept her organized and connected to her stray thoughts,
her impressions, and everything that might otherwise seem trivial. Not to
mention that it also contained every important number and name in her small but
exclusive inner circle. She was never, ever without it.

Feeling
the edges of panic creeping in, she searched again through her briefcase, her
purse, her coat pocket and again came up empty. Frustrated, she dumped everything
out of her briefcase and purse, scattering the contents on the table and
shoving objects this way and that.

She
bit her lip in frustration, hard, as she dug through the mound of papers and
junk. Still nothing. Again she checked the pockets of the slacks she’d been
wearing. Nothing. Forcing herself to be calm, she went through every room in
the house, trying to think where she might have put it down, a tiny thread of
alarm skittering through her.

Thirty
minutes later, she was still empty-handed and fighting another full-blown panic
attack. What the hell had she done with it?

When
was the last time she’d seen it. The table in the sheriff’s department popped
across her mental television screen. The small digital device lying on the
table, peeking out from beneath the folders. She was always so meticulous about
things like this, aware of the nature of the info it contained.

But
today she’d been too anxious to escape the good sheriff. That was pretty damn
stupid. She’d let Cole Landry throw her off balance, and it had screwed her up.
She rubbed her forehead, the headache nudging its way back to the forefront
again.

All
right. So she’d have to give in and admit that it was at the sheriff’s office. Had
he looked through it? Pried through her personal information? Although it
required a password, she knew police departments had electronic wizards who
could bypass such things.

And
what the hell did she do now? Wait until tomorrow? Go back there tonight and do
battle with some night dispatcher who might not even know what she was talking
about?

Well,
damn it all anyway.

The
jangling sound of the doorbell startled her. Dana frowned. She didn’t think the
few people she made contact with since arriving in High Ridge would be coming
around to pay her a social visit. Grant had once urged her to get a gun,
telling her anyone who traveled alone to the weird places she ventured ought to
have some protection. Now she wished she’d taken his advice.

The
bell rang again. This time the sound was a little longer, as if someone was holding
a thumb down on the button.

She
looked through the peephole in the door and nearly passed out. Cole Landry,
macho sheriff, all around pain in the ass and the object of her unexpected
erotic daydream stood on her doorstep. Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her
shorts, she undid both locks and cracked the door open.

Chapter
Nine

He
looked at his handiwork, pleased with himself. Leanne was spread-eagled on the
back seat of the truck, restrained, eyes wide with fear.

“What
are you doing?” The words came out as a whimper. “Let go of me! Get off! Get
off of me right now!”

He
laughed, enjoying himself. This was the beginning of the good part. “No one can
hear you, little girl. Go ahead. Scream your lungs out. Still,” he cautioned, “can’t
take any chances.”

He
slapped a piece of duct tape across her lips. Moving closer, he sang as he
shoved her thighs even further apart, stretching her to an impossible angle,
filling her with pain.

“There
was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. Now,
little girl. Let’s see how nice you play.”

Chapter
Ten

Cole
Landry’s huge presence filled Dana’s tiny porch and crowded her doorway. His
Stetson was still perched on his head, but apparently he’d taken time to ditch
the uniform. His feet were shod in worn Western boots, so similar to those in
her dream, she wondered if he’d somehow been in her mind. A black T-shirt clung
like a glove to his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and well-worn jeans did
little to conceal his long legs and muscular thighs.

Or
the erection that was visibly pressing against his fly. What was that all
about?

She
didn’t know what terrified her more—his presence, his arousal, or her reaction
to both. Heat grabbed her like a fist, and every bit of saliva in her mouth
dried up. She had to swallow twice before she could make a sound.

“Uh…hi.”
Well, it wasn’t poetry, but at least she got the words out. “What can I do for
you?”

His
eyes burned into hers like smoldering coals. “I have something of yours and
figured you might want it. Is it all right if I come in?” One corner of his
mouth turned up in a semi-grin. “I promise not to attack you. I am the sheriff,
remember?”

Dana
felt the heat of embarrassment flush her body. She backed up and swung the door
wide, and Cole removed his hat and stepped into the house. As he brushed past
her, she caught his scent again, the same blend of male and horses from her
dream, and again she shivered. She’d never reacted to a man this way, not even
those she’d forced herself to go to bed with. Cole Landry should have
danger
painted on his forehead, in flashing red letters.

Digging
for a calm she didn’t feel, she waved him into the tiny living room, closed the
door and stood as far away from him as the limited space allowed. Being this close
to a man she’d just imagined having sex with totally unnerved her.

She
watched his gaze roam lazily around her space, and she sensed his brain
registering every detail. Not that there was much to see in the small cottage.
A living room and dining area with a view into a small but well-equipped
kitchen. A narrow hall that led to the two bedrooms and bathrooms.

She
cleared her throat. “You said you had something for me? I don’t mean to be rude,
but I’m in the middle of doing some work.”

He
turned back to her, his mouth turning up in a smile that made her knees knock.
Reaching into his pocket, he extracted a small electronic unit. Her PDA.

“This
was under some stuff on the table where you were working today.” He held it out
to her. “You probably missed it, being in such a big hurry to leave and all. I
figured it was important enough not to leave it there until tomorrow.”

“Yes.”
She gave a small sigh of relief. “I realized when I started to work tonight
that it was missing. Thank you for bringing it by.”

She
reached for it. Their hands touched, and she felt a bolt of something akin to
lightning shoot up her arm and impale her smack in the center of her chest.
That traitorous pulse in her pussy was pounding hard enough to play in a rock
band. She yanked her hand back at once, but he reached for it and gently placed
her BlackBerry onto her palm. The flare of light in his eyes was the only
indication that he’d felt the electricity, too. And he didn’t seem to be in any
hurry to move away from it.

She
swallowed past the panic that flooded through her and backed away further into
the room. She couldn’t let him get any ideas about her or do anything that
might force her to leave High Ridge before she finished what she’d come here to
do.

“You
know,” he drawled. “It’s only common courtesy to offer someone a cold drink or
a cup of coffee in a situation like this. I’m good with either one.”

Coffee?
A cold drink? Was she supposed to make casual conversation with him, too?

“I
know this sounds rude, but I really do have a lot of work to do.”

He
shook his head, almost dismissively. “Those cases are older than dirt, Miss
Moretti. Another half hour won’t make a difference one way or another. Besides,
you look like someone who could use a break.”

Her
chin lifted automatically. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

He
moved closer until he was only inches away from her. “It means, you’re so
uptight, if I flicked my fingernail against you, you’d vibrate like piano wire.
I’ve seen people teetering on the edge of a nervous collapse before, and you
give a pretty good imitation. So how about that cold drink and a little
conversation about the real reason you chose the High Ridge crimes to write
about?”

Dana
nearly dropped the BlackBerry. She curled her fingers tightly around it and
schooled her features into as blank an expression as possible. But not blank
enough. Because Cole was looking at her as if he could see right into her center,
right into the workings of her mind.

Dana
shivered. This was so not good. Not to mention the dream…

“I
can offer you a cold drink,” she said, giving herself a mental shake. “I don’t
know about the conversation.”

With
an effort of will, she made her feet move toward the kitchen, dropping the BlackBerry
into her briefcase as she passed it. Yanking two bottles of soda out of the
fridge, she turned to head back into the living room, only to find a solid wall
of muscle in her way.

Dana
froze. She suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her kitchen
and replaced by this man and images from the dream. Tiny drops of perspiration
beaded her forehead, and her heartbeat felt like a bass drum against her ribs.

She
had no idea how to handle the unexpected feelings running riot in her body. She
certainly couldn’t let him know how he affected her. Literally shoving one of
the bottles at him, she slid sideways past him into the living room.

“Thanks.”
His deep voice resonated through her as he followed close behind.

She
deliberately took the big armchair, leaving him the couch. As if he read her
mind, one corner of his mouth quirked, but he folded his body into one end of
the couch, stretched out his long legs, and tilted the bottle to his lips.