Blaine, Destiny - Roping in Forever [Forever 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

“What in the blessed name of a cowboy have you done to my daughter?” Surprisingly enough, Bella’s mother wasn’t drunk, or if she was, she hid it well.

“Evenin’, ma’am,” Travis said, removing his hat and looking Bella’s mother up and down like he was right interested in older women. Then again, Travis was interested in pretty much anything with legs and a pussy.

“Bella?” she squawked, peering down. “What’s wrong with her? What have you done to her this time Corbin Cansey?”

This time? Corbin bit his tongue. What exactly had Bella told her mother? “We saved her from a few big mistakes, if you want to know the straight of things, ma’am.”

“You bring my daughter home dressed like a…dressed like a…” She couldn’t finish making the comparison. Instead, she asked, “Is she drunk?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do believe she is,” Corbin replied, starting toward the main stairs.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Is her room up here?” Corbin asked, clutching Bella’s lifeless form still tighter.

“Yes, but, you wait there a minute. I’ll take care of my daughter.”

“Travis?”

Travis waggled his brows behind Mrs. McDermott’s back, staring at her ass. “Mrs. McDermott, let Corbin take care of Bella. I’ll explain everything.”

Bella’s mother glared at Corbin. “If you hurt her, so help me—”

“Ma’am, believe me when I tell you, hurting your daughter is the last thing on my mind.”

* * * *

Bella didn’t move. She was breathing, and she had a strong pulse, but she lay listlessly against him, curled in his arms. Corbin smiled to himself. Naturally, she’d had a little help with the way he’d positioned her.

“Is she all right?” Mrs. McDermott asked, stepping inside Bella’s small bedroom a few minutes later.

“If Benson—the fellow she was with at the club—told me the truth, she should be fine, but I’d feel better if you’d call her family physician. Maybe ask for a second opinion since I ain’t a doctor.”

“That’s for sure,” Mrs. McDermott said, looking around Bella’s room. “Doctors save lives. Cowboys destroy them.”

Corbin, by some miracle, let her insults go. He followed her eyes and noticed an easel in the far corner. “What’s that?”

“Bella didn’t tell you she’s an artist?”

“Bella doesn’t confide in me much.”

“I reckon you haven’t given her the chance, now have ya?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “But yeah, she’s got some talent. Her paintings and drawings would be in museums if she ever got her mind off you and moved outta this town.”

“You don’t like me,” he said, noting the obvious.

“I don’t have an opinion about ’cha either way.”

Corbin shrugged. “Some believe that’s the worst insult a man can get.”

“I don’t know you, boy. All I know is that you’ve hurt my daughter in a bad way. She ain’t been the same since she came back from
San Antonio
. Whatever happened there between you and her, I suppose it’s your business, but you put her through pure hell and I listened to her cry plenty.”

“Cry?” he asked, arching a brow. Immediately, he felt a strange stabbing sensation right smack-dab in the center of his chest. He’d made Bella cry?

“You staying or going?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’d like to stay,” he said, easing away from Bella. “But I’ll go.”

Mrs. McDermott took a deep breath. “Ah hell, she’s probably gonna kill me, but since you’re here, go ahead and kick off your boots and get comfortable. I’ll entertain your friend.”

Corbin narrowed his gaze on Travis, who was standing behind Mrs. McDermott gnawing on his bottom lip. He stared at Bella’s mother like he couldn’t wait to teach the teacher or take intimate lessons from a more experienced instructor. One thing was obvious—Travis liked Mrs. McDermott.

Resisting the smile tugging at his lips, Corbin nodded once. “I appreciate that.”

“No funny stuff.”

“No, ma’am,” Corbin promised. “I’ll even leave the door open.”

“Just as well,” she said. “Bella doesn’t even know you’re here.”

When they disappeared down the hall, Corbin cupped Bella’s cheek. When she turned toward his palm and sighed, he whispered, “She knows. And she probably realizes I’m not going anywhere now that I’m right where I belong.”

Chapter Nine

Corbin couldn’t sleep. He was as hard as a rock, and if he didn’t get things under control soon, he was gonna find the bathroom and manhandle his growing problem.

Slipping away from the bed, he eyed the bustier pressing Bella’s breasts high enough for a provocative show. He should’ve asked Mrs. McDermott to help Bella slip into something more comfortable or maybe taken to task what was his job in the first place.

He snorted at that. He’d like to think he’d be the one to slide that heavy leather away from her silky skin.

Far too aroused to even contemplate changing her clothes, he paced the room. He ran his hand down the length of his face and focused on Bella, really studied her.

She was the epitome of purity. Her blonde hair fanned around her face. Her small button nose looked trapped between round cheeks, perfectly flushed from the heat, or maybe it was lust. Maybe she was even dreaming of him, or perhaps he was just wishful thinking.

He lightly fingered the length of his rigid cock. He was definitely thinking all right. And God help him, he had more ideas than cattle to feed.

Focusing on the easel again, he tiptoed to the corner and peered around the large drawing tablet. “Look at this,” he whispered, realizing, too, that no one was there to peek over his shoulder. He was taken aback by what he saw.

Staring at a life-size portrait of himself, he sat on the stool, and flipped through several pages. To his surprise, as he turned one page over and then another, his life unfolded before his very eyes. The history he shared with Bella was documented in living color.

* * * *

Bella was floating. She drifted over the ocean like a swan, graceful in her moves and quite at peace, too. Deliberately, she swept lower and then darted higher, completely out of sight. Next, she was running, gasping for her next breath but unable to slow down. She needed to get somewhere and she needed to arrive there fast, but where and why? She seemingly drifted right to the edge of consciousness before slipping back into the confines of sleep. Suddenly, she jerked. She was aware of the danger and desperate to escape.

Choking, she sat up all at once, coming out of a deep sleep and so woozy she thought she might fall against the bed again. “Corbin?” she screeched, looking around her room, tossing her head from side to side and wondering how she’d ended up there.

He walked toward her. “I’m here.”

“I see that,” she muttered, swallowing tightly and resting the back of her hand on her forehead. “But why?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She glanced down at what she wore. She immediately looked back up, thoroughly confused. “What the hell am I doing wearing this…this god-awful outfit?”

“Uncomfortable?” he asked, sitting next to her casually. “I could’ve helped you change, but I was pretty certain you’d slug me once you regained consciousness.”

She narrowed her gaze. She wasn’t amused in the least and for some reason, Corbin hadn’t stopped smiling since she awoke. “What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“What happened to me?”

“Benson slipped you a couple of pills, and you drank a few drinks.”

“And then I what—hit some slut over the head and demanded her clothes?”

“The dress looks nice on you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean, you’re telling me I look nice rather than explaining why I’m wearing something straight from the streets of
Amsterdam
!”

“Don’t knock the life, baby,” he drawled. “Hate the designer if ya gotta, but I still think you look hot.”

She pursed her dry lips. She’d kill for a glass of water, not that she could make it downstairs to fetch one.

Trying to move, she noticed how sore she was. Her body felt like one large bruise. When she tried to leave the bed, her head spun.

Corbin placed a gentle hand on her wrist. “Are you all right?”

Trembling, she studied her hands and tried to steady them. “What time did you bring me home?”

“Around ten.”

A long silence distanced them. Then, she cleared her throat. “Corbin, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything,” he assured her, touching her cheek. This was not the Corbin she knew. What had happened to her? Did he know what she’d done? And if so, was that why he was being so sweet?

Raising her gaze to meet his, she said, “Did Benson…”

Corbin’s face flared red, and he immediately balled his fists. “Why? Do you feel like something happened?”

She cleared her throat. “Not like that but…” She stopped talking and then rubbed her arms. “I’m still disoriented. I feel like I’ve lost time. But I’d know, right?”

“Well, I can’t say how you’d feel from personal experience, but yeah, I think you’d know.”

“How?”

“Well, there’d be some uh…well, I would think you’d be sore—
real, real
sore,” he said, probably exaggerating the fact so she’d fear sex from that day forward. “Assuming it would’ve been your first time.”

Bella immediately lowered her eyes. She felt her skin heat. God, could she be any more embarrassed than she was right then?

“Bella, what do you remember?”

She closed her eyes and tried to think. After some consideration, she said, “I remember talking to you and walking toward the club. As soon as we were inside, I knew you were right. I didn’t belong there. Benson led me to the dance floor, and we started dancing.”

“How many songs?”

“I don’t know—two, maybe three. Then, I…oh God, Corbin, I remember changing into the outfit.”

He nodded. “And Benson helped you.”

She stilled against him. Her eyes watered.

“It’s all right, Bella. Tell me what happened next.”

“He groped me, told me something stupid like I was meant for his bed, but he was gonna make me wait and only give it to me if I acted like a good girl. Then, he led me back outside, and that’s when I saw you and Travis.”

Corbin released a huge sigh of relief. “Are you sure that’s what happened? You’re sure you remember everything?”

“Until I saw you and then I don’t recall anything at all. How’d I get here? How’d you know something was wrong?”

Corbin lifted her hair from her shoulder, locking a curl around his finger and then admiring the way the strands parted and fell. Their eyes met. “Because I know you, Bella.”

“You do know me, Corbin,” she whispered.

“Maybe not as well as I should,” he said, tilting her chin toward his. “As much as I hate to admit it, Travis noticed something wasn’t quite right.”

“Travis?”

“Yeah, he’s downstairs talking to your mom, or he was. I didn’t hear the truck leave, so he’s probably on the couch sawing logs by now.”

A somewhat uncomfortable silence passed between them before Corbin said, “Are you feeling okay now?”

“I’m good,” she assured him.

“I’d like to test that out for myself,” he said, giving her a light peck on the lips.

* * * *

When she responded to his kiss, he bracketed his arms around her waist and drew her to him, kissing her like he’d wanted to kiss her all night, holding her against him until the swell of her breasts rising and falling alerted Corbin to the obvious—things were going mighty well for them, all things considered. Lapping at her lips, he moaned and forced himself to move away. He’d thought he could kiss her and that would be that.

He was wrong.

Backing away, he paced the floor, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the matter?”

Outside of a hard-on, not a damn thing, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate the obvious being brought to the forefront of their conversation. Besides, if she glanced down, she could judge his dilemma for herself. He redirected his focus, pointing to the easel. “I saw the pictures. You’re very talented.”

She blushed. “I had inspiration.”

A smile tugged at his lips. He’d like to give her some more. He was still a man after all. And Bella was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“The first drawing—the sketch—that’s the first day we met, isn’t it?”

Her eyes held the distant memory. “After my father’s funeral.”

He remembered. He recalled seeing Bella with her mother, walking right outside the cemetery. He’d given them a lift home, wondering at the time why they’d been walking in the rain. Later, he’d discovered Bella’s mother had been too drunk to drive. Bella was fourteen, and he just happened on them at the right time, in the middle of a downpour.