Killer's Prey Page 20

  “You feel so good,” she whispered.

  He forced himself to remain mostly still as her small hands ran over him, tracing contours of muscles all the way to the tops of his jeans. His blood pounded, his body ached in every single cell.

  But he didn’t want to scare her, so while she petted his chest, he reached for the snap on his jeans and tugged the zipper down slowly.

  Her smile widened a shade and she looked down. “Fair’s fair,” she said, and grabbed his waistband to tug it downward.

  His shaft sprang free, ready and hard. A quiet sound escaped her, then she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed.

  “Oh, sweetie...” It was all over then. He kicked away his jeans as quickly as he could, loving the way her hands kept reaching for him as if she didn’t want to break contact for even a moment. He felt her light touches on his back, his butt, his staff, everywhere she could find.

  Then he turned to her and reached for her clothing. Damn clothes anyway. Who the hell had invented them?

  She was as eager as he was this time, pulling her own shirt and pants away along with them.

  Until finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity but could only have been a couple of minutes, they stood naked, facing one another.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said huskily, still smiling. “The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

  Not as beautiful as her, but he was in no mood to have a conversation. Nor, apparently, was she. She leaned forward, found one of his small hard nipples and drew it into her mouth.

  She taught him something he’d never known about himself before when she did that. A torch seemed to light every nerve ending between his nipple and his groin. He groaned and pulled her closer, only dimly thinking that somehow they had gotten this backward. He was supposed to...

  Enough thinking. He gave himself up to sensation and tried to give her the same feelings in return.

  Her breasts were full, and he filled his hands with them. Apparently the nerves hadn’t been damaged, because when he brushed his thumbs over her pebbling nipples, she arched away from him with a cry, almost as if offering herself for more.

  The ability to stand was escaping him. In one swift movement he carried them both down onto the bed, half covering her body with his, tangling legs with her, finding every possible place to kiss and touch. He paused only once, to roll on a condom. His last sane thought.

  He claimed her mouth again, but only briefly. This time when he kissed her breasts, it wasn’t on the scars. He sucked her nipples deep into his mouth, reveling in her groans, in the way her hips tried to buck.

  Sliding his fingers down while his mouth continued to torment her, he slid his hand between her legs and parted her moist petals.

  She cried out and her whole body seemed to reach up for that touch. Over and over he stroked that most delicate of places until she was calling his name on nearly every breath.

  He loved it. But his own body was refusing to wait. When her legs parted of their own accord, he took the invitation.

  He levered himself over her, watching her face, and forced himself to move slowly, sliding into her warm, hot depths.

  Coming home. It felt like coming home. Rocking into her, he lost himself completely. The explosion built and built, like igniting the rockets on a missile before takeoff. Then, with a final shuddering cry, he exploded into her.

  * * *

  Nora felt completion take him, and it was as if it were the last push she needed to tumble over the cliff edge herself. His paroxysms started her own, she was dimly aware of her cry joining his, then the Fourth of July seemed to happen inside her head, exploding with multicolored lights and sparklers as her body shuddered to completion. As the ache changed from compulsion to satisfied need.

  Reaching up, she hung on to his shoulders, never wanting these moments to end. Never.

  Then he astonished her by moving again, and a minute later she once more toppled over the pinnacle into a pleasure so piercing she could hardly believe it.

  * * *

  He pulled blankets over them. He wrapped her in his body. He held her and for a little while she wondered if she’d lost consciousness. With her head pillowed on his shoulder, she was sure she never wanted to move again.

  She felt a sprinkling of kisses on her forehead but didn’t even open her eyes. She responded by tightening her arm around him, spreading her palm against his back, drinking in the wonder of being free to touch him so openly, the wonder of skin against skin.

  Right then life seemed like a beautiful gift, more beautiful than she could ever have imagined it to be. She would have lived in that moment forever, frozen in amber, if it were possible.

  “Wow,” he whispered. “Just wow.”

  “Me, too,” she answered quietly.

  He surprised her with a laugh, a truly happy sound, and squeezed her even tighter. “You’re a firecracker, Nora Loftis. Amazing.”

  “So are you. I never dreamed...” She left the thought incomplete. He could probably finish it himself, and right now talking seemed like an awful lot of effort.

  Besides, talking might shatter the spell.

  But spells don’t last forever. The keening of the wind reached her again, trying to stir the memories she wished she could bury forever.

  Almost as if he sensed the change in the mood, he left her. She wanted to protest, but as reality returned, her courage seemed to be fleeing ahead of it. She heard him turn on the shower and figured he’d be a while.

  But then he amazed her by coming back, scooping her out of bed and, with his arm around her waist, leading her to the bathroom. He tugged her under the hot spray, reached for a bar of soap and began to wash her in slow, lazy, erotic strokes. He spared no part of her, to her astonishment, and seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

  She learned how fast desire could return. Learned that she had some sexual gumption after all, because after he had finished lathering her, she grabbed the bar of soap, treating him to the same delight, washing both his front and back until she was thrilled to see him hardening again.

  A sense of power filled her, unlike anything she had ever known.

  “Woman, you’re going to bring me to my knees.”

  “I rather like that idea.”

  “So I gather.” But he laughed.

  Toweling off proved to be an equally erotic experience. Instead of silky touches, these were rougher, but just as exciting. Her skin glowed, and soon his did, too.

  She expected to tumble back into bed with him, wet hair and all, but he helped her wrap a towel around her head, then went in search of one of her nightgowns.

  A momentary disappointment filled her, but as he helped her into her sensible flannel nightdress, pulled slippers onto her feet and then donned his own bathrobe, she quickly realized this night wasn’t over.

  The anticipation would be allowed to build again. There was more to come, and absolutely no rush. How absolutely delightful.

  Chapter 12

  By morning Nora felt more sated than she could have believed possible. She ached pleasantly, and not even the sleep they had snatched during the night was enough to bring reality back into clear, hard focus.

  Her mind was awhirl with a new set of memories and experiences that it wanted to play and replay as if she could ensure she would never forget a single instant of her night with Jake.

  She stirred reluctantly only when she could hear him moving around downstairs.

  Her skin tingled with new awareness, even of the brush of her clothing against her skin. Her mind brimmed with things that made her want to smile or sigh happily. Her body, sated though it felt, was already awakening to a day of new possibilities.

  When had she last felt this way?

  Never.

  The whiteout still raged outside, giving her assurance that she needn’t think about other things again, not yet. The vacation from her fears alone should have been enough, but now she had a whole new stockpile of things to think about, good t
hings, memories to savor like fine wine.

  Even as she began to make her way downstairs, she promised herself that she would treasure the night they had shared and not let it hurt if that was the end of it.

  He had given her a great gift. More than one, actually. She must not let disappointment mar it.

  To her surprise, he was cooking. He stood at the stove in jeans and stocking feet, a fresh flannel shirt hanging unbuttoned, as he made eggs and bacon.

  “Where’s Rosa?” she asked.

  He looked around. “Well, there went my plan to bring you breakfast in bed.”

  She blushed faintly. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It’ll taste just as good down here. As for Rosa, I called and told her to stay home. She could get lost just between here and the bunkhouse. Al and I have some work this morning, though.”

  “In this?”

  “Animals must be cared for.”

  “But you guys could get lost, too.”

  He shook his head. “We’ll use safety lines and work together. Want some coffee?”

  Of course she did. She slid into a chair at the table while he brought her a mug. “Thank you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” His warm gaze seemed to embrace her and promise more delight to come.

  “I’m surprised this whiteout hasn’t let up at all.”

  “Sometimes they blow for a while. Not uncommon, as I’m sure you remember.”

  “I lived in town. I heard about them more than I saw them.”

  “True.” He slid some eggs onto plates, added toast and bacon, then carried them to the table. “Out here we’re used to it for a few hours at a time. It’s not unusual. One that lasts as long as this, though, might happen only a couple of times a winter.”

  He paused to pour two glasses of orange juice, then joined her.

  He raised his glass in a toast. “To a gorgeous woman, on a perfect morning after an even more perfect night.”

  She felt color flood her cheeks and he laughed.

  “I love that you can still blush,” he said. “It’s pretty, and it gives me a kick. You’re special.”

  Then he started eating as if he hadn’t just almost knocked the wind from her with his compliments.

  Oddly, the things he said reminded her of Beth, his ex-wife. She had known Beth in high school, mostly from afar since she had been hanging on the fringes and no one had really ever wanted to get close to her.

  But she remembered her impression of Beth, a very pretty blonde who had always struck her as slightly phony, as if she were playing life for an audience. She had often told herself not to be so unkind, and had blamed her reactions on the fact that Beth was dating Jake. But now she wondered.

  “What ever happened to Beth?” she asked. “Is she still around?”

  “She left before our divorce was final. She hasn’t been back except to visit her parents every year.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “She went to stay with cousins in Denver, met some guy and I hear they live in Dallas now. Plenty more to do there.”

  “Lots more,” she agreed noncommittally. None of her business really, and she had no right to say anything. But she wondered why Beth had married Jake if she wasn’t going to be happy as a rancher’s wife. Of course, how many people that age really had even a remote idea what they wanted for the rest of their days? Not many. And Beth, as she recalled, had lived in town, the child of two teachers. She might have had no idea what it would be like out here for weeks on end, especially in the winter.

  Certainly Nora wouldn’t have. Probably still didn’t have the faintest idea even after several weeks.

  But the difference was that isolation had been part of Nora’s upbringing. She was used to being left to her own devices. Something of an introvert by nature. She enjoyed having a few friends, but too much socializing wore her out. She needed her quiet time to follow her own pursuits and interests. Recharge time, she thought of it, and that wasn’t unusual for an introvert. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, it was that she needed a certain amount of downtime. Still. Even after the years at college and working as a psychologist. It balanced her.

  Beth, as she recalled, had never been without a coterie of friends, or Jake at her side. An extrovert. She needed the people, needed constant company.

  “She wasn’t the right type of person to live on a ranch.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  He looked up questioningly. “Psychological evaluation?”

  “I didn’t know her well enough to say that professionally. But I was just thinking back. She’s the kind of person who was never alone. Life out here would be hard for her, for any extrovert.”

  “I wish someone had told me that before it was too late.”

  “Or that she had realized what she was getting into. But most of us aren’t that self-aware, especially when we’re young and changing so much day-to-day.”

  “I certainly wasn’t,” he admitted. “So when do we stop growing up?”

  At that, a laugh escaped her, and she felt her cheeks stretch with a smile. “Never. I felt so grown-up when I got my first job and apartment. Now I’m thirty and I can say I’m not finished growing up.”

  “Maybe not in some ways. In others, I’m sure you’re quite the adult.”

  Color filled her cheeks again as memories from last night surged to the forefront of her thoughts.

  His smile seemed freighted with pleasure and promise before he resumed eating.

  She offered to do the washing up while he and Al went to check on animals. After he phoned Al and then stepped through the back door out into the hell of winter gone wild, she stared for a few minutes, hoping the two of them would be safe. She doubted either of them would be able to see more than a few feet in any direction. It just didn’t seem safe to be out there at all.

  The chill crept through the glass on the door and she shivered a little, thinking how much colder the wind must be making it out there.

  Then she turned to washing the dishes. She hoped she did a good enough job for Rosa, who seemed to be something of a perfectionist.

  But the time alone was good, too. She hadn’t had as much of it as she was used to. Then she remembered she was supposed to be at the library today. She guessed Emma wouldn’t be expecting her, but making a courtesy call seemed like the decent thing to do anyway.

  “Of course you’re not coming in,” Emma answered. “Gage wouldn’t even let me open the library, it’s that bad.”

  “Then how did I reach you?”

  “Call forwarding,” Emma said, a smile in her voice. “A bit of extravagance I insisted on. Look, the schools shut down today. A lot of businesses aren’t bothering to open. If you lived in town, you could get to the grocery for milk in a pinch, but that’s about it. Safety first. Enjoy it, Nora. Give yourself a snow day. Remember when we used to love them?”

  Nora never had, she thought as she hung up. Snow days for her had just meant extra hours working for her father at the pharmacy on the grounds that some of his employees would fail to show.

  This was different. A whole day free. A vacation.

  With Jake.

  * * *

  The idea that everything in town was pretty much shut down, too, added to the feeling of security generated by the whiteout. Nothing would be moving. The creep couldn’t reach her, probably couldn’t travel even a short distance to get to town, or if he were there, to leave it.

  But after a couple of hours she was beginning to worry about something else: Jake. And Al. They’d been out there in this for what seemed an awfully long time, and she had no idea how she would know if they might be in trouble.

  Rosa would know, she decided. Rosa must have been through this before, and would call if she suspected a problem.

  That didn’t prevent Nora’s nerves from stretching as minutes continued to tick by. Nor did the keening of the wind help at all. Dark memories of that night began to hover around the edges of her mind. She tried
to push them back with reminders of the night she had just spent with Jake, but their power was such that they remained hovering, like hawks ready to strike.

  She paced the house, wrapping her arms around herself, becoming increasingly anxious. Snow day? Vacation? Hah!

  But at long last, just as she was beginning to feel as if she could crawl out of her skin, she heard the back door open. She hurried to the kitchen and saw Jake, looking like a snowman, step inside the mudroom and begin shaking off, stomping his boots clear of snow.

  “I was beginning to worry,” she admitted.

  “I’m sorry. It took longer than I expected. It’s wild out there, and we kept having to huddle in wind breaks of our own to keep from getting too cold.” He shucked his jacket, kicked off his boots then grabbed a handy mop to clean up what he could.

  Moments later he stepped into the kitchen and pulled her into his arms. She could feel the chill on him as she returned the hug and accepted a quick kiss.

  “Coffee,” she said, pulling away with difficulty. “You need to warm up.”

  “I’ll make it. I need to keep moving until I can feel my fingers and toes again.”

  “That’s not good,” she remarked, managing to keep the scold out of her voice.

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But animals first. And I’m getting hungry again. Could you eat, just a sandwich or something?”

  “Let me make it for you. I need to do something other than pace and worry.”

  He paused after filling the drip coffeemaker with water. “Worry?” His eyes tightened a bit. “I really am sorry.”

  “You were doing what you needed to. I just had no idea how I’d ever know if you needed help.”

  “My fault. Rosa would know when to send out a flare. I didn’t think about telling you. I should have.”

  She couldn’t settle yet, so she waited while the coffee brewed, watching him flex his fingers and rise up repeatedly on his toes, encouraging the return of circulation.

  “I talked to Emma,” she said finally. “I guess most of town is shut down.”

  “Yeah. It’s bad, and nobody’s moving. Not so bad there, I imagine. You must remember.”