Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (37 page)

Bringing both breasts
up into view, I caressed them, pinched them, watched my face flush
and heat with lust. I wished Declan were there. I wanted to make him
as crazy as he made me. Make him pant, long for me, unable to think
of anything but touching, tasting, taking me. I pinched my nipples,
watching in the mirror. I wanted him to watch me do this as he
stroked his huge cock, then shot out a full, hot load of come across
my tits.

Oh God, where were
these thoughts even coming from? I dropped my hands away. I was
shocking myself. My body was like a racehorse kept too long in the
stable. It wanted out, wanted to flex its muscles and see how fast
and far it could race. Frightened, I knew I needed to put on the
brakes.

I needed to bring
myself back to reality. But what was reality anymore? Was it that
plodding, gray, same day-to-day I’d been sleepwalking through,
tending to my father, the most pressing and immediate needs of the
ranch, watching him fail, slowly? Was it the autopilot I’d flipped
on when I’d lost him, doing everything that needed to be done as I,
once again, experienced slow, inevitable loss—this time of my home?

Declan had only been
back in my life for three days and already I felt so confused. When
you had a dream, you always knew it when you woke up. The quality of
daybreak, that sense of realness and usually relief that no aliens
had landed or you were, in fact, wearing your pants while grocery
shopping.

But here I was wearing
no pants at all and feeling the most overwhelming, both frighteningly
and deliciously strange mix of sensations. Around Declan, I did
almost feel caught in a dream, as if he swept me up and I certainly
couldn’t think straight. But everything also felt more vibrant and
real. I’d simply felt more over the past few days, plain and
simple. I felt alive.

I drained the bath,
lying there listening to the sound of the water until the tub was
nearly empty. Was he next door in the bedroom? Lying a few feet away
from me? Ready with something new to tease me with, drive me wild?

I grabbed a towel.
Huge, fluffy, I enveloped myself in it and opened the door into the
bedroom. It was empty, no sign or trace of Declan. Hesitantly, I
opened the door into the main living area. Nothing. No cool,
collected Declan over by the bar, looking at me low and level and
heated. Not over in his favorite chair, now with the bear pillow. I
smiled a bit.

Over on the kitchen
island, I saw a note. Scrawled in black pen: At the gym. I got an
image of him, bare chested, dripping with sweat.

How could I start to
get aroused all over again? I was a mess. And I was exhausted. That
expanse of a bed called to me. I didn’t really have any clothes to
sleep in, though.

Back in the bedroom, I
pulled open one panel of a large, white tri-fold closet. Rows of
crisp, pressed dress shirts and suits stood at attention, pinstriped
and meaning business in navy and charcoal grey. I didn’t recognize
the names of the designers on the labels. No surprise there. There
was a lot in his world now I simply knew nothing about. I didn’t
know how much money it cost to buy one of these suits, to have a
shirt tailored to fit exactly right, to stay even one night in a
penthouse suite like the one he owned. I didn’t even know how much
money he’d made.

Money. I hated thinking
about it. Why did it have to matter so much? Looking up into
shelving, I didn’t see anything in his closet even remotely like
sleep clothes. Maybe Declan didn’t sleep anymore. Maybe that was
his money-making secret.

Pulling open another
panel, I found where he kept his reserve of jeans, dark and pressed
like the serious investment banker cousins of the dusty faded old
things he used to wear. Damn, but he made both look good. I didn’t
know which I preferred, the ones so old and soft they all but melted
into the form of his hard body. With one button open they looked
about ready to fall off of him, and boy did you hope they would. The
dark ones, though, coupled with a dress shirt like I’d seen him in
the past couple of days, those worked, too. Rough against my bare ass
as he’d held me against him, pulling my head back as I’d writhed
up against his hardness. I liked how he dressed it up but still kept
the jeans. I wondered if he did that during his frequent out-of-state
travel. You could take the man out of Montana, but you couldn’t
take the Montana out of the man.

Over in the corner, I
noticed a white wicker laundry hamper. It only had a few things in
it. I guessed he had a regular laundry service. For a second, that
struck me as somewhat sad. He never had anyone who cared about him
take care of his things, treat a stain and tsk over him having been
so careless, fold his t-shirts and place them in a drawer for him so
they’d be there when he needed them for his early start the next
morning. Sure, sometimes I felt overwhelmed with the amount of
housework each day required, but there was something about laundry. I
almost enjoyed the process, taking in the old and making it fresh and
new. Now that my dad was gone, I missed the funniest things, like
pairing and balling up his socks.

I felt a pinprick of
hot tears in my throat. What was I doing here? This was a huge
mistake. I had to be crazy making myself entirely vulnerable to the
one man who could squash me like a bug. I had to be completely
insane.

A smart woman would
walk away. It had taken me so long to recover from Declan the first
time around. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like a second
time. If you played with fire once and got burned, well, you had the
world’s sympathy. If you stuck your hand right back into the flames
again, you had only yourself to blame. But the flames felt so good.

Hand on my belly, I
took a deep, steadying breath. This was OK. Things were going to be
OK. What I needed most right now was sleep, enveloping, renewing
sleep. I knew from experience, nothing coaxed along sadness and panic
like exhaustion. After some good rest, I always awakened with a sense
of promise.

And tomorrow I would be
heading to New York City. I’d flown over Dallas, but the biggest
city I’d ever walked around was Boise, population not quite
reaching a quarter of a million. That still seemed like a lot to me,
with a 20-story skyscraper and plenty of hustle and bustle. But how
many millions of people lived in New York City? I’d soon find out.

Pulling a black t-shirt
and a pair of boxers out of his laundry hamper, I decided they were
the best things I could find. I certainly wasn’t going to sleep in
one of his suits. Yes, it was weird raiding his laundry basket, but
as I hung up my towel and slipped into his clothes I had to admit,
they had their benefits. They smelled like him.

Sliding into the soft
sheets, pulling up the comforter, I let his scent envelop me. I
sighed deeply. Nested on an assortment of down pillows, I fell fast
asleep.

Declan

Then

Lathering myself in the
shower, I took my time. Usually I was a dunk-and-dash kind of guy,
not the type to linger and luxuriate. But tonight was different.
Tonight I’d had Kara Brooks down in my cabin and I’d made her
come, full and sweet, on my fingers.

I couldn’t believe
how wet she’d been, the feel of her slick heat on my hand. I didn’t
muffle her cry with a kiss. I wanted to drink in every second of it,
memorize every movement of her face, every cry and scream. I’d
never seen anything better, my innocent angel, hot and horny and
wanting me, coming all over my fingers. She was what I wanted more
than anything else.

I’d been the first
man to do that to her. I couldn’t believe it. Even though my gut
twisted up and my hands balled into fists whenever I tortured myself
with thoughts of Kara with Bruce, I’d wondered how far they’d
gone. But apparently she’d declined the invitation I was sure he’d
extended many times to round those bases. She’d said no to him. Yes
to me. And now Bruce was an ex. I liked the sound of that.

I couldn’t wait to
touch her again. Tonight in a few hours she’d meet me in the barn.
She got me so hard so fast. But I’d take it slow with her, give her
all the time in the world. I’d treat her right, show her how good
it could be together, how I could be a real man for her. Even though
sliding deep into her would feel so good.

I brought my hand down
to my thick cock, palming it. I knew it would only take a few
strokes. I’d been hard for so long, straining and ready. But I’d
held back, tethering myself, keeping myself in check. I’d stroked
her, watching as she closed her eyes, parted her lips and kneaded her
fingers into the couch pillows. I’d held back even though her
silken heat on my fingers, the shudders of her orgasm, had
practically gotten me there myself.

Now, in the steam, I
stroked my hard length. Eyes closed, I remembered how she felt. I
wanted to hear those needy pants again, hear her moan my name. I
wanted to suck on those breasts, cup them and lick and bite her right
where she was most sensitive. I wanted between her thighs again,
stroking her slippery folds, bringing my mouth down to her to taste,
lapping and licking up her sweet juices. Working my thick cock, my
balls tightening with come, I thought about how someday, someday
soon, I would sink so deep into her hot, tight pussy. With a groan, I
came, heavy and full.

I panted as my
heartbeat slowed, my breathing regulated. I’d wait for her. She
deserved it. I’d grit my teeth and use all my restraint, go slow
and make it good for her.

After her orgasm,
sitting on the couch with her draped over me, her cheek against my
bare chest, it had hit me, hard. That was what it was supposed to
feel like with a girl. With your woman. It was supposed to click
together, everything snap into focus. You didn’t have to try. It
just worked. I didn’t do snuggling and cuddling, but I could have
stayed there like that with Kara all night.

She’d been the one to
get up and go. I loved that about her too, though, she took good care
of her dad. She had a big heart. I just hoped it was big enough to
take a chance on me. Because I was going to ask her to.

I wanted her to come
with me. I didn’t want to leave her behind. As manager of buildings
and grounds I’d have my own place at this next ranch and she could
stay there with me. I didn’t have it all planned out—hell, even
this morning I hadn’t been thinking about asking her to come with
me—but suddenly I knew we’d figure it out. Together. Because now
I knew I had to have her.

And somehow I felt like
she would say yes. Smiling like an idiot, I turned off the water and
stepped out of the shower. I felt light and buoyant, like soda
bubbles fizzed right up through me. I guessed this was what people
called happy. I felt like a king. I could do anything. This girl,
this amazing, kind, gorgeous girl, wanted me. I had no idea why. She
clearly had bad taste in men. But I’d take it. I’d accept her
mistake with open arms.

I toweled off next to
my bed. I was smiling and humming. Until I stopped. Someone was in my
cabin. Over by the couch, a thin curl of smoke rose up in the
darkness. Harlan. Our eyes met.

I didn’t jump or
flinch, I never did. But it rattled me to my core. He must have seen
Kara leaving my cabin. Maybe he’d missed her for dinner and been
watching. He probably saw her leaving my place with her dress rumpled
and her hair in a tangle. Steeling myself, I put down the towel and
pulled on my jeans.

“Couldn’t keep it
in your pants, huh?” Harlan’s voice bit into the shadows. His
words hit me like a punch but I didn’t move. I just stood there,
cursing myself. This was what happened when you let your guard down.
You’d think by now I would have known. Some dumbasses just can’t
learn.

“You come to my
ranch,” he continued, coiled up tight like a snake. “I take a
chance. I hire you, give you this place to sleep in. Give you free
reign. I trust you. And you fuck my daughter.”

“I didn’t—” I
began to form a protest, defend myself, defend Kara.

“Shut your mouth,
boy.” Harlan kept sitting there, cool in the dark, smoke curling up
over his head. I’d seen enough angry men to know, quiet rage was
the most violent kind. A man yelling with a broken bottle in an
alleyway? You could distract him easy and gain the upper hand. A man
sitting in the dark, his eyes fixed on you while he told you real
slow and thought-out how you were a low, worthless dog? You needed to
watch that shit, intent, so you could learn the next move before
things exploded.

“You’re here
humming like you’re on a goddamned game show.” He spat on the
wooden floor planks. “What do you think, my little girl’s your
new slut?” I crossed my arms against my chest. I wasn’t going to
give him the satisfaction of answering that question.

“Oh, now, don’t
tell me?” His voice got a hard curl to it, his lips twisted in a
sneer. “You’re sweet on her? That’s rich. And wait.” He
smacked his hand down on his jeans like he was about to tell a good
one. “Don’t tell me you think she likes you?”

I stood there meeting
his stare. I had my pants on but I’d never felt more naked. He
scrutinized me like I was a cockroach in his kitchen.

“That’s it, isn’t
it? You think my Kara likes you. Let me tell you, you’re a new
flavor all right. But have you heard of the flavor of the month?
She’s not going to end up with a dog like you.”

“You don’t know
what she wants.” I hated my words the second they left my mouth. I
sounded like an angry kid fighting in a schoolyard. Swift, fierce
rage pumped through my veins. But his words took root inside of me.

He let out that dry
chuckle. “You think she’d want you? She’s just slumming it.
You’re not good enough for her. Not by a long shot.”

“She can be the judge
of that.” I talked tough. But I didn’t feel it.