Desert Blood (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 2) (6 page)

“The absolute best.”

Cody’s eyes danced. “Better than Lassie?”

She laughed. He’d chosen the right moment to lighten things up. She was much too tense. “Way better.”

“Better than Rin-Tin-Tin?”

“A totally different class.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What about Benji? Benji could solve crimes, you know.” His eyes sparkled at some inside joke.

She shook her head, unimpressed. “Buddy didn’t need to solve crimes; he was so good at keeping trouble away.”

“Big dog.” Cody shook his head skeptically.

“I like big dogs.”

His head tilted to one side. “How big?”

“Big.” What was this, some kind of Freudian analysis? She moved from the kitchenette, holding out the bowl of strawberries, willing her hand not to shake. “Dessert?”

Cody grinned, and she immediately felt her face heat in a flush.

Never trust any man!
the fearful voice cried. But this time, the voice came from a distance, as if it had been grabbed by the scruff of its neck and was being escorted out the back door, fading away into the night.
Don’t trust anyone…

Cody snagged a strawberry and continued his inspection, tilting the photo of Heather and Cathy to the light. The two of them in uniform, hockey sticks crossed. “Field hockey, huh?”

She forced a light tone even as her gut clenched at the memory of Cathy. “I played in college.”

“Let me guess. Defense.”

Heather frowned. Did she really come across that way? Wary, on guard? She shook her head. “Midfield.” The ones who covered the most miles. Like she’d done her whole life.

“You look dangerous with that stick.”

“You better believe it.” She faked a chuckle. “It’s still in my car, actually. I never get around to taking it out.” She left out the rest—how it filled some of the emptiness of the backseat with Buddy gone. Buddy, with his long ears, flopping in the breeze.

“I’ll make sure to be good.” He looked at Heather like she was the next photograph to study, and then snagged another berry.

Pulse spiking, she ducked around him and slid the patio door open with a screech. Normally, she kept herself locked up at night, but some irrepressible urge called to her. Mesquite from the neighbor’s barbecue wafted in along with the nutmeg-vanilla flavor of the night-scented flower. It was the scent of a vast space. The scent of possibility.

“Scorpio’s up,” Cody said, a whisper at her shoulder. His scent joined the others. Distinctly Cody, it was like the beach at midnight: warm and inviting. But danger wasn’t far off, not with this man. She could feel the coiled power in him. Around him, almost. Like a force field. Maybe if she stood close enough, it would protect her, too.

That, or it would kill her with one electrifying jolt.

She had the distinct feeling he was sniffing her. One in ten hairs on the back of her neck stood; the other nine cheered. She wouldn’t mind sniffing him back. Inhaling, actually, right at the crook of his neck.

A hand reached around her and teased the pile of strawberries before selecting one. It moved right past her ear and turned into a luscious sound even as the scent of it made her mouth water. She could picture his lips closing around the strawberry, fingers tugging the stem free. Oh, to dance with this man again. To lose her fears in those arms. The physical beckoned, not just as a thrill but as a gateway to more. But how, how to proceed?

The couple of men Heather had slept with had all started as friends. A one-thing-led-to-another-and-then-we-were-naked kind of thing. She’d never slept with a stranger; never let things get wild after too many drinks or a few heated looks. Cody was not quite a stranger, but not quite a friend. Yet the desert kept whispering his name to her, again and again.

She closed her eyes and listened. A faraway voice had joined the whisper. Voices? No, yips—the sound of coyotes, howling in the distance. Heather’s eyes searched as if the high fence around her drab yard weren’t blocking the view. She imagined the coyotes, lined up along a scrubby ridgeline, muzzles pointed high. She loved that sound. It was one reason she didn’t need a TV or stereo out here: the desert was entertaining enough. The crickets were the newscasters, the lizards starred in action movies. Birds sung arias, and the coyotes—they played full symphonies. They were warming up now, voices honing in on the right key.

“Funny,” Heather murmured, “Until I got to Arizona, I thought coyotes only howled at a full moon.”

Cody snorted. “Common misconception. They howl anytime it feels right. When the night tells them to.”

The idea went down her soul like a warm drink. Doing what felt right. Following the night. If only she could do the same. Standing this close to Cody felt right, and what the night was suggesting… Well, she hadn’t been this tempted in a long time.

Heather waited for the warning voice to butt in and ruin everything, but there was only silence from that quarter. She spied on Cody from the periphery of her vision, watching him listen to the coyotes with closed eyes. His face twitched in response to each variation in the song, as if he were following a conversation. A smile, a nod, a tilt of the head. What was it about this guy?

He was the picture of a man in his element, a man at home. What she wouldn’t give to have that feeling. She’d spent her childhood shuttling between homes and summer camps. The only place she ever felt she belonged was the hockey field. A delineated green rectangle. Lucky man, Cody. The place where he belonged was magical, almost mystical.

Part of his aura suggested the place belonged to him. She’d felt that on the ranch, time and again. The man had that natural authority, that statement of right. But he was restless, too. What would it take to make him complete?

She turned and set the strawberries aside, facing Cody, an inch away. Wishing desperately for him to start what they both wanted. He held back, though, letting her take the lead, even if the hitch in his breath gave the effort of it away. She loved him for it, but hated what it said about her. Did she really come off as so fragile?

God, maybe she was. Being attacked in an alley on a dark Friday night will do that to a girl. For once, the memory made her bristle with fresh determination instead of cower. She had escaped that alley. Started a new life. Here. Now.

Heather stepped forward and put a hand on Cody’s chest. Beneath the soft cotton of his shirt was solid steel that heated at her touch. Half-closing her eyes, she tilted her head and wished for his lips. Imagined them brushing over hers, soft and sweet. She saw his eyes drop to her lips and focus there as if he were counting her breaths, waiting for his chance. The way the girls did at school, studying the beat of a jump rope before leaping in. Waiting…waiting…

The coyotes warbled on, high and hopeful, then low and lonely.

She’d had enough of waiting and wishing. Enough of lonely. On the next breath, Heather reached for his lips with her own.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Heather put everything into that kiss—all her joy, her sorrow, her hope. She squeezed her whole body to his, savoring the sweet taste of strawberry on his lips. Arms banded with muscle circled her waist, and she wove her arms behind his neck. The man was a fireplace on a cold winter’s night, emanating warmth and security.

A pause, a breath. He was waiting for her. God, she needed help with this. How to proceed?

“Cody, help me,” she whispered, threading her fingers into his hair.

His face took on that Huck Finn grin. “With what?”

“You know what.”

His lips moved to her ear. “Pretend I don’t.”

She inhaled and tried to summon the old Heather from deep inside. “Cody, I want you.” Just that whisper stirred the need burning inside her.

His lips teased her ear. ”You want me to..?”

She shifted her jaw, gathering her nerve. He needed a clearer message? Fine! She’d give it to him. She plunged into a deep, wet kiss and gave herself an inner nod. How’s
that
for assertive? When she pulled back, Huck Finn was gone, and a very surprised Cody stood in his place.

She admired her courage for all of three seconds before throwing herself in for another taste of him. She was addicted already, after only that touch. As for Cody, his lips went from surprised to hungry, and his arms pulled her tight. Every inch of her body found a home on him, snug and warm. Something inside her was welling up. Something—or everything, all at once: joy, sorrow, want, need, all of it finding expression in a soft moan.

Cody kissed her right through it then pulled back with a sharp intake of air—a diver bursting to the surface after venturing too deep. He rested his forehead against hers for a long, quiet moment, seeming to pull himself together. “You’re getting me ahead of myself,” he whispered, gulping back the ragged edge in his voice. “How about we do this right?” he murmured, lips moist on her ear.

Right
was just what Heather needed. Right now. She nodded, eyebrows rubbing against his chin, watching his smile stretch. He was looking down at her, eyes dancing on hers. Another kiss, more measured this time, and then his mouth teased her ear. “We need to finish that dance, you know.”

She slid back into him again, held him close, and felt his foot shift, his body sway. Something vibrated against her chest: a hum, slow and steady, coming from him. They slow danced in place for a moment until he raised one hand and let the other gently guide her through a turn. Then he tucked her close again, her back against his chest, thick arms crossed over her.

Heather stood, practically purring as he repositioned his hands by her hips. “Touch me,” she heard herself whisper, pushing his hands under her shirt and up from the neutral zone of her waist to her lower ribs.
Nice
, she thought then mumbled it aloud. He let out a chuckle and stroked until she nudged him higher.

“Here?” His voice rumbled through her torso, hands easing higher.

“Everywhere.” That drew another smile. She could feel it on her ear.

She held her breath as Cody’s fingers worked over the swell of her ribs to the edge of her bra. He traced it as his mouth massaged the soft juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of his hands lifted and went to her hair, combing it so gently, she could have sighed. His mouth played at the skin of her neck, soft, then hard, until he broke off with an audible intake of air. She wanted more, but he just smoothed the hair over her neck and anchored his nose by her ear. His hands became her focus again, as they inched slowly from her ribs to the curves of her breasts.

“Here?” Cody whispered.

“Mmmm,” was all she could manage. Her core was already weeping in anticipation. This man wasn’t just a long-lost friend, he was a long-lost lover, and she’d been missing him for more than a lifetime. Cody circled her nipples through the fabric of her bra and she bit her lip, holding back a moan of delight. Her breasts were swelling, filling his hands, marveling at how different this was. Heather joined in, echoing his movements with her own thumbs. Until now, her sexual encounters had been giggly, fun. This was all heat, irresistible desire that had her leaning forward, pulling her shirt over her head, and tossing it aside.

Her body was in full meltdown mode, leaning back into him, giving herself away. Because she wanted—no, she needed this. Deserved it, even. A little tenderness in a life that had somehow become all about survival.

Just when she couldn’t stand one more minute of slow and sweet, he tugged her hands above her head and turned her in a pirouette that finished with them face-to-face, mouth-to-mouth. As their tongues began their own slow dance, her fingers tangoed down the buttons on his shirt. Now her hands were sliding over skin, bumping over muscle. Pushing the shirt back over his shoulders, she couldn’t help rounding them a second and third time, drinking her fill of his barely restrained power. He could have grabbed her and pinned her down. He could have taken over the kiss, the dance. But he didn’t. He let her dictate the pace—and she soared with the confidence he gave her.

He clasped her hands in his next, guiding them up and around, turning her back to him. The curves of her body meshed perfectly with his. What was it he said when they first danced?
We’re made for each other.
Must be true, because she’d always had two left feet—until now. He slipped his fingers inside her bra then discarded it completely. A half turn later, she had his shirt off. Bodies ever closer, ever hotter. Another turn, another layer. She was a ballerina atop a music box, part instinct, part art. Her shorts slid to the floor, one inch at a time, followed by his jeans in a slow-motion feast.

Two more half turns stripped away panties, then boxers. God, this was nothing—nothing!—like one-thing-led-to-another. This was deliberate, inevitable. As if fate had scripted it all along, holding back her heart so it could cave in completely tonight, all over this man. Her lips tiptoed along his neck then suckled the same point he’d been so fixated on before on her own neck. She could feel his pulse quicken, right under the skin. Under her hands, his ass was firm, corded. She was about to curl a leg around his hips and press herself to his erection when Cody went back to slow and easy, shifting into the maddeningly unhurried pace of an overprotective bear. Didn’t he know she wouldn’t break or wither or cry? All she wanted was him—all of him. Now.

“Cody, please,” she moaned.

His breath tickled her neck. A kiss, a whisper. “Soon.”

His hands gripped her hips and squeezed her close. She could feel his cock pushing, her body responding. His hands traveled leisurely over her breasts then meandered down to her hips, curving closer to her sex. Conflicted in their greed, her hips pushed forward toward his hands then back against his cock.

Heather thought she had sworn off men. Ha! This one, she wanted to swallow whole. “Cody.” It was meant to be a whisper but came out in a moan.

His hands explored the curls of her pelvis, sinking deeper then dancing away.

“Cody, please.” God, she was begging him. But did she care?

No. Not when he was mouthing her name into her ear, again and again. Not when he was worshiping her body with every unsteady breath he drew. The man was a Midas of the soul, turning everything in her to gold. Mining now, finding her pussy. One finger slid inside, then another. Heather worked an arm behind her and closed on a column of hot desire, living marble that pulsed under her touch. A single spot of moisture pressed into her tailbone. His fingers curled inside her, circling and widening her, then probing deeper. Heather teetered on the verge of a very deep canyon. Falling now, crying out as everything inside her convulsed in need. Was it possible to come so quickly? With Cody, anything seemed possible. But drawing this out would be so much better than rushing through, so she fought to regain control even as her body begged to let it all go.