To Desire a Wilde (9 page)

W
ithout having to look at his watch Shilah knew to the minute the last time he'd had sex.

And if memory served correctly, the last woman he'd been with, he'd picked up here, at the same club, while sitting on this exact same barstool.

Which was exactly why he'd come tonight.

To pick up a woman, any woman, in an attempt to ruthlessly shove away the images from his mind of Ellie, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he'd made love to her in the most intimate way.

The last moment, right before she'd climaxed, it had taken all his will not to pick her up, turn and lay her across the table, his cock embedded deep inside her sweet, willing warmth.

He inhaled a deep breath, grabbed the beer the bartender had placed in front of him, tilted his head and in one long drink, gulped down the entire contents.

Shit.

Blowing across his mind in regular rotation, much like an overplayed song on the radio whose lyrics become etched in the listener's mind, he could recall, in painful detail, every part of her soft, lusciously curved body to a T, inch by inch, curve by curve, and every nook and cranny in between.

He couldn't get her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried—no matter how many long hours he put in around the ranch, well past quitting time—the image of her, legs spread, head thrown back in bliss as he'd made love to her.

He couldn't exorcise from his mind her smell, that unique scent that seemed to belong to her and her alone, a mixture of fresh flowers and earthy woman, or the feel of her sweet lush body.

For the remainder of the week he'd kept his distance from her, his nerves so taut he knew that if he didn't, he'd say to hell with it, pick her up and carry her to his room, to pick up where they had left off.

Every day since he'd worked until he couldn't move, and finally exhausted, he'd made his way to the house, and slumped into the bed.

Where images of her continued to haunt him, relentlessly, refusing to allow him any peace of mind.

Last night, unable to take it anymore, feeling like he was losing his mind, as he'd lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he'd palmed his shaft in his hand, knowing that it was the only thing that would relieve the building, bone-crushing ache that was starting to drive him out of his damn mind.

He set his beer down on the counter, silently nodding
his head when the bartender asked if he wanted a refill.

Which was the only reason he was here tonight.

What was brewing between him and Ellie was something he knew wasn't good for either of them. Too many questions still lay between them, doubts and insecurities. Not to mention her dedication to maintaining her professional ethics.

But despite all of that, Shilah knew that if he continued to work side by side with her, it was only a matter of time before he'd do something stupid, and force her to admit she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

As much as he wanted to do exactly that, in the end, he didn't want to think about how she'd feel about him afterward. Shilah lifted the beer to his lips, and this time allowed the liquid amber to slide slowly down his throat.

The arctic greeting she'd given him the next morning had shown him that her guard was back in place, a barrier she was hell-bent on maintaining between them.

With a drawn-out breath, Shilah allowed his glance to drift across the crowded bar, surveying the scene.

To hell with it. And her. If she didn't think what they had was special—if she didn't want to take the chance that what they had, what they could have, could be one of the best things that ever came their way—who was he to fight against it.

Seemed like he had been trying his whole life to prove he was worthy of someone loving him.

Forcing the maudlin thoughts to the side he continued his perusal of the club. It was Friday night, and although
barely eight o'clock, the club was already hopping, as it was the hottest spot in Lander, Wyoming.

Truth be told, besides the variety of pubs on every corner, it was the only spot in town where people could dance and mingle. Sporting three levels, the club brought in customers not only in the small town of Lander, but, due to its increasing popularity, people came from miles away to party at the club.

Dubbed “the pick-up spot,” it was a place where people mingled from all walks of life, all looking for a little action, if only for the night. It was a place where hookups happened regularly, and a man…or woman, was guaranteed to find someone to fill the empty void, if only for one night.

Exactly the place he needed, he thought, finishing off his beer.

There was a time when he and his brothers hit this place, or similar ones, together, the three men having their pick of women for the night. Even then, there were times when Shilah longed for something more. Something like what his brothers now had—one woman to love, to call his own, one woman he could turn to, the only one he wanted to turn to during good and bad times.

More and more, Shilah was beginning to feel like the odd man out.

Without conceit, Shilah was well aware of his effect on the opposite sex, something he and his brothers during their younger years had capitalized on.

The Wilde boys.

That's what they were called, from as young as he could remember. First, as the wild “hellions” Jed Wilde had adopted, cast-offs, unwanted by their families.
The kind of boys who, if a woman passed them on a deserted street, she would clutch her purse tightly against herself.

As the boys grew into manhood, women held on to their daughters, just as tightly.

Wilde. Undisciplined and reckless.

He and his brothers hadn't given a damn what others thought about them. He knew that, although the young girls looked at them longingly as their mothers dragged them away, Shilah and his brothers were not the types any of those same girls would dare bring home to meet their parents.

Not that it mattered.

And although their opinions had changed as they'd grown to manhood, their wealth increasing, as had their status, Shilah knew that despite all of that, if those overprotective mamas knew his history, where he'd come from, they'd turn disdainful eyes his way and swiftly hustle their daughters away.

“You here alone, sugar? Or would you like a little company?”

Shilah turned from his perusal of the club and his own thoughts to cast a slow, appraising glance over the woman who'd come to stand near the bar, next to him.

He allowed his glance to slide over her, lazily, taking in the short dress that was barely long enough to cover an ass so round and full, he wondered how she even took a step without showing her panties.

That is, if she was wearing any. He had a distinct impression that she wasn't.

The hot smile stretching across her full, red-hot lipstick-covered lips competed with her equally flaming-red hair. Although wide and inviting, there was a certain
calculating look in her eyes as she in turn assessed him, head to toe.

He eyed the rest of her. The dress she wore was soft, made out of some stretchy type of material that molded her curvy body as though it were a second skin.

Despite the youthful attire and alluring smile, the heavy makeup she wore didn't disguise the fine lines that framed the corners of her mouth and eyes.

But tonight he wasn't picky. Tonight he needed a woman to take his mind away from the one he couldn't have, the one who had plagued his thoughts for longer than he wanted to admit. His cock hardened, but not for the woman standing in front of him.

She glanced down, her grin widening, and slid her glance back to meet his eyes. Moving closer, she scored the side of his face lightly with her long, sculpted nails.

“Or…we can take this party somewhere else,” she suggested, her voice low, full of suggestion.

He rose from the barstool, towering over her, despite the stiletto boots she wore.

“Let's go,” he said. Withdrawing his wallet, he threw down bills to cover his tab, along with a hefty tip, and turned, his arm going around the woman, and left the bar.

H
er hands shook as Ellie unlocked the front door and dragged her bone-weary body into her parents' home. No sooner had she closed the door than she slumped down against the frame.

She was so tired even her eyelids ached. She blew out a long breath and allowed her lids to droop as her head dropped back, leaning heavily against the door.

She would have slipped right onto the floor had she not used the last ounce of her strength to push away from the door and move farther inside the house, and slowly make her way to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, she withdrew a large bottle of water and uncapped it, allowing the ice-cold contents to slide down her throat, closing her eyes.

She drew out a long, tired breath. The week had been one straight out of hell, with the amount of work and
long hours both she and her father had put in at the clinic.

Working side by side with her father twice a week she'd helped him take care of the animals that had come to the clinic. She'd also gone along with him late one evening as he'd done his weekly visits to the small ranches in the surrounding counties, mainly doing on-site vaccinations.

Between that and her own work at the Wilde Ranch, the week had flown by in a blur.

She had the house to herself, as her parents had decided to get away for the weekend. After a lot of encouraging from Ellie—scratch that—after Ellie had
demanded
they get away, her father had taken her mother to the cabin the family owned in Jackson Hole.

Ellie's demand had come after the week of watching her father and the seemingly unending amount of energy he had as he worked from early in the morning and often long nights at the clinic.

He loved what he did, of that Ellie was certain. She'd never heard him complain about his workload. Yet over the week, far too often she'd found him relying more and more on the cane he'd starting using recently, seeing the occasional grimace cross his lined, yet still handsome face.

In addition to his own work, her father had offered to help her at the ranch. But Ellie had hastily declined his offer for the very reason she didn't want anyone involved in the ranch to assist her—the threat of bias still weighed heavy on her mind.

Besides, she'd come back home to be of help to her father, not to give him more to do.

Ellie had been torn between offering to help and
remaining silent. She, more than anyone, knew what it was like for those around her to think she was in need of help, something she'd struggled with from the time of her accident.

But it was obvious from the shadows beneath his eyes and the way he relied on his cane even more as the week had worn on that her father needed time away from the clinic, even if it was just a brief getaway.

She allowed the thought to simmer during the week. When she'd casually mentioned the idea to her mother, she'd seen the light enter her eyes. But Leandra had shaken her head, stating her father would never leave because of the clinic and his workload.

When Ellie then reminded her mother that her father was no longer alone, that she was there with him now, the smile that stretched across her mother's face had been worth the amount of work Ellie knew she'd just agreed to tackle.

Her mother had convinced her father, and Ellie couldn't have been happier seeing the surprise cross her father's face that, not only would he be getting away for a while with his beloved wife, but that his daughter would be the one to take over for him in his absence.

By the end of the week, Ellie would have paid any amount of money to get away as well, if only for a few hours, to be by herself and decompress.

The business side of the week hadn't been the only thing Ellie had been contending with, she thought, taking her bottle of water and flopping down on the sofa in the living room.

As she brought the bottle to her mouth, allowing the cold water to slip down her throat, her thoughts turned to the other reason, the one that had her up late at nights,
tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep no matter how hard her day. No matter how many miles she ran she couldn't outrun the image…the memory of the way Shilah had selflessly made love to her.

Ellie finished the bottle of water and with a thud placed it on the table in front of her. Propping up her feet, she leaned back and grabbed one of her mother's throw pillows, hugging it tightly against her body.

After leaving the old cabin that day, Ellie hadn't waited for Shilah to lock up. Racing toward her horse she'd made quick work of unhitching him from the post. Ignoring the twinges of pain, she'd placed one foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up and over the horse, settling into the saddle. Within seconds of mounting the horse she was reining it around and galloping away, before Shilah had reached her.

She'd urged the horse on faster, ignoring the shooting stabs of pain to her knee with each jostle as the large stallion ate up the distance.

She'd refused to acknowledge the mocking voice in her mind, asking who she was running from, herself or Shilah.

Once she'd reached the house, she'd dismounted.

Embarrassment, confusion and leftover lust warred for dominance in her mind. Unable to look at Shilah, to see whatever may be in his eyes when he looked at her, she began to guide the stallion toward the stable. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she stopped but didn't look over her shoulder.

“I—I'm going to put her away,” she said, running a hand over the sweat that covered the horse's back, feeling a momentary guilt that she'd pushed the horse so.

“Let me do that. You're tired. Just go home, I'll take
care of everything,” he said. And for a brief moment she stood there, facing away from him. She bit her lip in indecision, fighting against the urge to turn and face him, to get it all out, and answer his question.

But in the end she didn't, she couldn't. She didn't know the answers herself.

She waited for him to say more. Waited until the tension grew so thick, she felt its invisible hands reach out as though to choke her.

Close to tears, unreasonable, crazy tears, she'd silently nodded her head and had nearly run to her car.

The morning after their hot, tumultuous lovemaking at the cabin, Ellie hadn't expected to see Shilah at all, much less have him show up before she had arrived. Already at work with the men, he'd been herding the cattle and tagging them, waiting for Ellie's arrival.

Although to the casual observer Ellie doubted anything had seemed wrong as business had returned to usual, she had felt the strain between her and Shilah. She'd been jumpy the entire day, waiting…expecting, and yes, she admitted to herself, there was a part of her that wanted him to bring up what had happened.

Ellie laughed, without humor, and rose from the sofa, making her way to her bedroom. Obviously it hadn't meant to him what it had meant to her. Not only had he not mentioned it, but the following day, as well as the rest of the week, Jake had taken his place.

But why should it mean anything to him, what they'd done, she thought. Shilah, as well as all his brothers, had never been short of female attention. Although discriminate in his bed partners even when they were teens, Ellie had been aware, painfully so, of that fact.

Padding naked to the bathroom, she started the shower
and turned to grab her essentials. She paused when her eyes met her reflection, allowing the towel she'd wrapped around her body to slip as she ran a critical glance over her body.

All legs, that's what her father used to say about her, growing up.

She was nothing but long legs and lean lines. She ran a hand over her body, stopping at her breasts. Small, they barely spilled over her hands.

She drew in a breath, remembering the feel of Shilah's hands as they had lightly grazed over them.

Shame brought a blush over her face as she thought of the wanton way she'd pressed into his hands, silently asking…begging for him to touch her, to sooth away the ache that had been growing steadily since the moment they'd re-connected.

She thumbed a finger over her nipple, watching in fascination as it sprang tightly against her thumb. Her breathing grew ragged, as she thought of the contrast of feeling between his callused hand and soft touch as it had brushed over her.

Her hand trailed down the line of her flat stomach. She hesitated, her hand hovering over her mound. She glanced up at the mirror and her reflection shocked her.

Hastily she turned from the mirror, and jumped into the shower, allowing the cold water to rain over her overheated skin.