Rebel's Claw (4 page)

“You don’t have to go to any trouble,” he said. “Everything looks very comfortable.”

“All right. Let me know if you need anything else.”

His fingers drifted over her collarbone, up to her chin. “There is one more thing.”

“What?” Her throat was so tight her voice erupted in a croak.

“A kiss. May I, Carrie?”

Without consulting with her brain first, her head nodded.

When he leaned down, his black hair tumbled forward. It must have slipped out of the rubber band. Without contacting her with anything but his mouth, he brushed his lips against hers. A flame erupted inside her with the power of a gunshot. She knew she’d never be the same.

He straightened, fixing her face with his questioning dark eyes.

“Again,” she whispered.

He gripped her cheeks with strong hands as his mouth closed in on hers, harder. Longer. His square jaw brushed against her face, sweeping her into a cyclone of sensation. She gave herself to him and the kiss, lifting weak and shaky arms to tangle her fingers in his glossy hair.

He smelled heavenly, like spicy oranges cooking in a scorching canyon. His lips parted, unleashing a hot, questing tongue she felt down to her toes. You’re mine, it said.

Yes, yes, yours. All yours.

Her fingertips skated across his hot, satiny skin. He reminded her of a primal animal. The way he moved…like a predator. A soft growl even vibrated in his throat. Her panties couldn’t be more drenched if she hung them out the window in the rain.

Pressed inside the cage of his strong arms, the grim truth she lived with every day melted away. If she stood here long enough, maybe it would disappear forever. He pulled his lips away but kept them close enough to breathe her air, and for her to breathe his.

Nothing in her life had felt right since Daddy had died. Until now.

A squeak of surprise escaped her when he picked her up and set her on the rose-colored quilt covering the bed.

“Roark, what are you doing?”

He knelt beside the bed, fixing her with a hungry but caring stare. “We both need this.”

She clutched her chest. “We can’t.”

But the slick delta between her legs screamed,
Yes we can!
When else would she get the chance to make love? Men this handsome didn’t come along every day.

He bowed his head. “I know you value your private life here, and I have a lot going on in my life, too. Let’s share the night.”

“I-I don’t think it would be right.”

“What’s wrong about it?” he asked, lifting his chin. “I have protection.”

Her heart hammered. “I-I’ve never done it before.”

But she wanted to now. And only with him. Why?

“Then I’ll make sure it’s special.”

“W-we don’t even know each other’s full names,” she protested. “Mine is Carrie Myers.”

“Roark Archer.” He chuckled and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Myers.”

She gasped when he unbuttoned her shirt and traced the tip of her breast through her flannel nightgown. The bud hardened and ached, making her writhe on the quilt. Handshakes were a darn sight safer.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “You can’t go through the rest of your life never experiencing what it’s like to be with a man.”

She’d planned to do exactly that, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Keep touching me.” It wasn’t an exact answer to his question, but she needed it so badly. Maybe it would help her make up her mind.

He frowned and traced the scar beneath her breasts. “What happened here?”

“A little mishap with some barbed wire.” She shrugged. “Got kicked in the fanny by a horny bull once, too. The wire cut bled more, though.”

“What were you doing with barbed wire?”

“Getting it off to put the electric in.” Her flesh burned with electricity of its own. Did he have to ask so many questions
now
?

“Can’t you hire some men to help you around here with the rough stuff?”

She tugged the buttons on her nightgown. “More touching, less jawing, please.”

In seconds, he’d pulled off all her clothes except her panties. He traced his hand down her body, exploring her breasts and the width of her waist. She sucked in each breath and held it, too consumed by pleasure to exhale right away.

When his fingers tangled on the waistband of her panties, her legs trembled and her cleft burned with need. For the first time, she wished she owned lacy, feminine lingerie instead of boring, practical underwear.

“These are so sexy,” he whispered as if reading her mind. “So perfect on you.”

She gasped when his finger dipped under the white fabric, probing and swirling over swollen flesh. Her head thrashed on the pillow. Surely, she didn’t deserve such pleasure. With each caress, he promised even more. Completely disconnected from reality, she hovered over an abyss.

Don’t let me go.

She craved him every night, to make her forget everything causing her pain. With an instinct of their own, her hips danced as sinuously as a snake’s. His finger slipped inside, thrusting deep. If her pleasure was electricity, he’d light her up for miles.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. She shied away when he unzipped himself, but he pressed his bare cock into her palm. Lord, she’d never felt anything so hot. So alive. A trail of juice seeped from her core.

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” he whispered in her ear.

Their chests bucked and swelled against each other from their hard breathing. She felt as if she’d run the length of the ranch a hundred times.

“Y-yes, Roark.”

“Then grab my wallet off the nightstand since you’re closer to it.”

Her body tensed. He didn’t plan to pay her like a prostitute, did he? Daddy definitely wouldn’t approve. He wouldn’t look kindly on a one-night stand, either.

“There’s a condom in it,” he added.

When she twisted away from his hot skin, the contrast of the cool air caused her to shiver. Clumsier than ever, she dropped the wallet on the bed. It opened, revealing several pictures in plastic sleeves. She couldn’t resist flipping through them. Did he have a girlfriend? Hopefully not a wife. Hopping cow patties. She hadn’t even thought to ask about that.

Too late to back out now.

The people were all ages and shared a similar look to him, so she assumed they were family. She could hardly concentrate, with him stroking her back and grinding his wonderful hardness against her buttocks.

“You’re taking too damn long,” he muttered against her hair. “I’m about to take you, condom or not.”

“H-hold on a second,” she replied.

When she spotted the last picture, the heat in her body turned to ice. She blinked, hoping she’d seen it wrong, but the image only became clearer. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she stared at the face of a reddish-haired man with a beard. Nausea twisted her gut while a lone coyote howled in the distance. The remembered sensation of mud and blisters floated across her hands….

Oh, dear Lord. It was him! The face of the creature she’d killed.

Roark groaned and rubbed against Carrie’s soft ass again. How hard could it be to find a condom in a wallet? If she made him wait any longer, his dick might explode. She had the sexiest body—small but strong. The skin on her arms was tough and tan, but other, more private parts of her were pale and softer than velvet.

And if he didn’t stop breathing her scent, he might ejaculate before he ever got his cock inside her.

When he peered over her shoulder, he discovered she studied his pictures. Holy buffalo crap. Now was not the time to walk down memory lane. He wished he’d reached for the wallet himself. Those pictures were private. When she sat up—her back still to him—she breathed funny and her shoulders shook.

“Carrie, are you okay?”

What luck. He was about to do a virgin, a rare treat, and she felt sick at the last minute. Looked like he’d have to settle for the hand job after all. What in the heck was wrong with her? She was one weird chick. Lives like a recluse, keeps her father’s stuff lying around, sleeps with a gun, and now this. He couldn’t even contemplate a relationship with her.

“I’ll be all right.” She turned and glanced at him with haunted green eyes. “I shouldn’t have eaten steak so late.”

“You hardly swallowed a bite.” He jiggled her shoulder. “Give me the wallet, angel. I know exactly where that rubber is.”

Instead, she picked up her flannel nightie, put it back on, and sat on the bed again.

“Are these people your family?” she asked, flipping through the pictures.

He sighed and stuffed his shrinking cock back into his jeans. Maybe the interruption was for the best. After inhaling the fragrance from her sweet cunt, his suspicion had turned into fact. Carrie was his mate. She was also a virgin. No-strings sex and virgin mate didn’t exactly go together. As long as she gave her consent, he didn’t really give a damn, though.

“Family and friends,” he replied.

Tired of staring at her back, he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. Obviously, sex wasn’t going to happen tonight. The less she knew about his pictures the better. As soon as he got settled someplace, he planned to move them to a locked box so no one else could stumble across them and ask questions.

“Do you see them often?”

“For a recluse, you sure are nosy.” He nudged her arm. “Just teasing. Seriously, most of those people have passed on. I carry their pictures for remembrance.”

“Were they sick?” When her small fingers brushed the hair from his forehead, his breath caught. “I’ve heard of people living in one area getting the same illness from pollution.”

Roark pinched the bridge of his nose as the smell of burning dust from the bedside lamp burrowed into his head. She was getting closer. Too damn close. Why not lie to her and tell her they all got cancer? Talking to a mate must be stronger than truth serum because he couldn’t lie to her.

“No, Carrie. They died from violence.”

“Then you understand loss, too.” She traced the edge of his leather wallet. “Will you tell me about them?”

His body twitched with the urge to shift and trot out of here on four legs.

“I’d rather not.” He faked a yawn. “Didn’t we agree to no-strings sex?”

“I understand.” She flipped to the last photo. “I’m curious about him, though. Was he your brother?”

Roark’s heart accelerated as he gazed at his buddy’s face. He’d taken the shot of him in Yellowstone where they used to hang out around the hot springs. Jared even wore the necklace he’d made for him, of his claw hanging from a gold chain. His pinkie finger tingled as he remembered losing it.

Maybe she knew something about him. Painful or not, he had to find out.

“No, he was my best friend.”

Her hand shook. When she set the wallet down, it folded closed. “Wh-what happened to him?”

“I wish I knew. He disappeared about three years ago. I’m still looking—”

The bed lurched as she jumped off it and left the room.

“Carrie? You okay?” he called out.

He opened the wallet and stared at Jared’s face before closing it again and placing it back on the nightstand. She knew something. He was sure of it. Water ran in the bathroom next door. When she returned, her face was pale under her tan.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Did you ever meet…Jared?”

“Was that his name? No,” she said quickly, rubbing her stomach. “The steak didn’t set right is all. I’m not used to having people around.”

“Especially in your bed,” he added.

“Yes.”

The last thing he expected was for her to grip his shoulders and press her mouth to his.

“Make love to me, Roark.”

“I thought we lost the mood.” But when her nipples pressed against his chest through her nightgown, his erection hardened, ready to pick up where they’d left off.

“I need you.” She even grabbed the back of his head and slipped her tongue into his mouth.

If that wasn’t consent, he didn’t know what was. Why had she suddenly become so wild? It was as if she were trying to forget something. His gut told him she was lying when she claimed she knew nothing about Jared. Maybe a good orgasm would loosen her tongue.

This time, he took the rubber out of the wallet himself. After rolling it down his cock, he smiled and lay on his back.

“You’re so tiny, you’d better get on top this time.”

Why the hell did he say
this time
? Tonight would be it. Tomorrow morning he was out of here, after he learned everything about Jared there was to know. Even though she still kissed him passionately, her thighs trembled around his thick waist. What a crazy chick—about to shoot him full of holes one minute and fragile as a newborn pup the next.

Her silky hair felt even sexier than he’d imagined, cascading over his chest like fringe. So perfect. Lamplight reflected on the honey-gold hairs of her thatch slick with arousal. As if she’d waited her entire life for him to arrive and make her a woman. The sense she knew more than she admitted made her more tempting.

Fate had brought him here.

He gripped the base of his pulsing cock. “Are you ready, angel?”

She nodded and perched over the head. Gripping his shoulders, she pulled herself down.

“Jeez, Carrie. Go slower. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Within seconds, her tight core swallowed him to the hilt. She cried out and dug her nails into his muscles. Why had she lunged down so fast, as if she’d wanted to hurt herself?

He smoothed her hair. “Hold still. Let your body get used to me.”

Her legs quivered so hard they shook the bed. He almost decided to abort the mission. She couldn’t possibly be enjoying it. When she finally moved again, he guided her hips to make sure she moved slowly enough.

He squeezed his eyes shut as her hot little sheath electrified him to the balls with pleasure. Physically, she was the best lay he’d ever had. She must have the tightest pussy west of the Rockies. Unfortunately, it also screwed with his head. Images of Jared refused to go away. Then he thought of her father’s old boots still sitting in the kitchen. How alone she was.