She forced her knees to function again, found her feet and
straightened up.
“Oh, like you didn’t,” she snapped. “You enjoyed that,
fucking me with my own handmade gift to you. No doubt you’ve got all kinds of
tricks planned.”
“No doubt.” He slid the talisman back into his pocket.
She gathered some threads of dignity. “You look damned
pleased with yourself.”
“Why not? How many times in your life have you come twice,
so hard, so close together?”
“Never.” It wasn’t worth the strength to lie; he deserved
full credit. “Never that hard. Never that soon.”
His grin widened as he stepped closer. Damn, he was still
fully dressed, fully in charge, while she felt more than naked. Weak,
vanquished.
And utterly, utterly fulfilled.
“And now,” he said in an even tone as he reached up to the
hook above her, “I think you’ve been through enough.”
She jerked up her head at this.
Enough
?
Been
through?
“What!”
“The game stops here and now, Calloway.” His air of supreme
self-assurance had vanished. “I thought I could carry it off, carry out
everything I said in that letter but there’s no way I’d ever do that.”
“Oh, right!” Lost energy now came surging back to her limbs.
“You can stand there with your erection bursting out of your pants and tell me
you can’t carry it off. Like you don’t want to drop your jeans this moment and
get it into me so fast.”
“Don’t push me,” he warned, a wary note in his tone.
What the fuck?
“Don’t push you? Since the moment I walked in here you’ve
made it clear that your entire agenda is to fuck me blind and merciless and
rough and endless and raw.”
He shook his head, his eyes betraying uncertainty.
“Aw shit, Calloway. I hope, even now, you know me better
than that. Better than I know myself. That I can’t take such blatant, obnoxious
advantage of you like that. I couldn’t do it six years ago. I couldn’t do it
now, though God knows I meant to. Just to have one good, unforgettable piece of
you.”
Burning resentment took over her body and soul, where just
moments ago she’d been all desire and eagerness.
“Couldn’t do what?” she demanded.
“Tie you up against your will and fuck you. I hope you know
that’s not me.”
“Not you? Hell, Corbett, haven’t you been paying attention?
You just did exactly that. Tied me up and fucked me. Twice. First with your
tongue, then with your—our talisman. Or are you one of those guys who
conveniently thinks it doesn’t count if it’s not the actual personal, private
cock?”
He blushed. Apparently, he was indeed one of those guys.
“And as for that bit about
against my will.
Do you
think for one moment you’d have got this far with me, or even as far as
removing my jacket, let alone tying me up, stripping me, eating me alive,
penetrating me with the carving, if I hadn’t been perfectly willing? If I
hadn’t
let
you?”
At least he wasn’t going to run away with the idea that things
had gone all his way.
“Oh yeah?”
He stepped back and spent a long moment or twenty just
staring at her. Every part of her. Until she felt herself flinch under his
look.
“You? Let me?” The words were quiet, puzzled. “And yet, Ms.
Calloway, ma’am, which of us is standing here unfettered and fully dressed, and
which of us is bound and naked and powerless—”
“Right. And—oh, the hardship—suffering from a pair of
back-to-back over-the-top orgasms. Inflicted on me by a guy who, I have to
admit, is pretty good with his hands. And mouth. And that trick with the
carving.”
“I repeat, you’re the one tied up.”
“And I have a pair of legs that could have broken your ribs
if I’d chosen to defend myself. Or cracked your nuts. If I hadn’t been a
willing partner in what just went on, you’d be lying on the floor right now,
doubled up in agony, clutching your balls.”
He winced. Then he rallied and a slow smile split his face.
Warmth flowed through the evening air, over her exposed body and into her
battered heart.
It’s going to be all right…
“Aw, Calloway, you were always so damned feisty. You’d no
more kick me in the balls than I’d force myself into you, or any woman.
He stepped closer, the heat of his body beneath his rough
clothes emanating onto her naked skin, and one hand caressed her buttocks,
drawing her against him, as the other ran a gentle path down her cheek, his
thumb outlining her lips.
He moved in to kiss her, his tongue now coaxing and
caressing, where it had been all force and demand earlier.
And she melted. This time with the helplessness of passion
and tenderness.
It’s right. So right. After all these years.
He pulled away slightly and again reached up to the hook. “I
swear, Calloway, if I don’t release you now, I’ll be inside you so fast—”
“I dare you,” she found herself saying. And wouldn’t she
just love it.
“What?” His eyes said ‘
Oh god yes’
and ‘
Are you
crazy?’
at the same time.
“I can’t wait a moment longer. Let me see you now, just a
taste of you. Time enough for long and sweet all night long. But now—oh please,
Corbett. I just need you now, just like this.”
And, longing and desire all over his face, he was clearly
powerless to refuse.
His hands went to his belt buckle. She grabbed a quick
breath and watched in blood-stopping anticipation as, with deftness and
deliberation, he undid his belt, opened his zipper and released his penis.
Oh lord. Joe Corbett in all his manifest glory. Two simple
reality bytes hit her.
He was big.
He was hard.
Just as she’d fantasized for so long. Only more so.
God, Calloway, there’s no going back now.
She grew wetter, hotter, needier, as he moved against her,
his mouth again on hers, and the heat of his amazing erection radiated from
him. His probing fingers eased her open to receive the searing tip of his
penis, solid and insistent, between her starved and swollen labia.
At last, damn it. After all those years of longing and
deprivation, the actuality of Corbett’s naked cock drove into her, deeper,
rigid, glorious—
And then it all stopped.
Corbett drew back and out fast, dropping her legs as a cold,
wet curtain of rejection fell between them.
“Corbett! What?”
“Condoms, damn it,” he snapped with a rueful laugh “I was so
caught up in this game, I never gave it a thought.”
He covered up but his erection still held strong.
She had to laugh. “You don’t carry them with you?”
“Believe it or not, I actually don’t keep them handy at
work. Not in my tool kit, not my pocket. There might be an old one in my truck,
but I wouldn’t rely—”
“Check my jacket pocket.”
She indicated the chair where he’d thrown it.
He grabbed the jacket and, after searching the pockets,
extracted a three-pack and stared at it.
“You came prepared with condoms.” His voice was devoid of
any emotion. And damn, she hadn’t even meant to use them. It had been just in
case of a very, very long-shot occurrence.
“Not like you think. Unlike you, I’m always prepared with
basic equipment. Like lip balm and tampons.”
Again that slow smile came to his face. “Like I said,
feisty.”
Relief flooded her as he ripped one off, and started to shove
the others back into her jacket pocket—
Oh no…
He extracted something else now.
No…please, not that.
He unfolded the paper. Tara could barely endure watching his
face as he realized what he held.
Finally, he slowly folded it again and shoved it into his
own shirt pocket, along with the condoms.
“So.” His voice held only ice. And accusation.
“I didn’t…” Oh hell, what case could she plead now?
“No convenient amnesia. No misunderstanding. No gradual
submission to my seductive demands. No wondrously reclaiming each other as
lovers.”
“No. That wasn’t—”
“Getting me to immobilize you and strip you and fuck you was
just a game, wasn’t it? You came here today, armed with condoms, with every
intention of getting it from me, a crude and cold-blooded violation.”
Shit, how could she explain anything now? That it had never
been on her horizon, until she’d seen him standing there and he hadn’t let up
on his ultimatum.
“No…” she managed through the rock in her throat. But it
wasn’t working.
The tension in his eyes, his lips, even the muscles in his
neck, turned him into a man on the edge of decision.
“Not going to happen.”
The atmosphere went sub-polar, inside and outside of her.
“I don’t know who would end up being more degraded,” he went
on, dignity in his voice and words. “Me for raping you, or you for demanding to
be raped. And getting it.”
And now she burned with shame. “Rape? Is that what you think
it would be?”
“What else would you call it?” he snapped. “Abuse with
consent?”
Consent meant consent. But she wasn’t about to beg.
“What
is
going to happen,” he went on, “is you’re
going to get dressed and get on that bike and get out of my life, because we
both know that’s where you belong.”
Desolation drenched her. How could she have forgotten the
closing line of his letter?
….
and then I never want to see you again.
He reached up, gripped both her wrists and lifted her off
the hook. Then dropped her onto the wicker chair, where she flopped like a
stringless puppet.
“Get out of here.” Without another word he turned his back
and stalked off down the veranda steps to disappear around the side of the
cabin, and she had the heartbreaking luxury of a few moments alone in the
evening air.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! She could weep with frustration
and anger and a sense of sheer stupidity.
And now, she could no longer ignore the caution light
blinking frantically in the back room of what passed for her mind each time
Corbett had driven her remorselessly toward a mind-blowing orgasm.
Leo.
She’d blown it. This trek was all for Leo’s sake. Leo’s
future depended on it. If she didn’t bring Corbett home to take over the
business, Leo would just ignore his bad heart and dig himself into an early
grave.
But now, even if Corbett agreed to talk to Leo—and he
wouldn’t—she’d never, never want Corbett anywhere near her or Leo or her real
life.
And—crap!—she hadn’t even received the consolation of the
man’s considerable sexual genius.
Chapter Two
Corbett stalked off toward his truck, his mind devoid of
options. Neither sticking around nor leaving was the answer.
And after all his intentions, both good and evil, that had
plagued him when he’d heard the unforgettable sound of the vintage Indian, he’d
gone and blown it. Big time.
He stopped now at the sight of her hard-ridden motorcycle in
the yard and found an old memory overtaking him—the last time he’d heard it
arriving. The faint sound in the distance on the road up to Leo Calloway’s
workshop, on the old highway leading out from town.
He hadn’t forgotten a moment of that sweltering August
night, all those years ago. He’d been working for hours and was ready to call
it a night. Sawdust was sticking to the sweat on his skin. He’d heard the
Indian Maiden getting closer, louder. Then it roared to a halt in the yard.
And young Tara Calloway had walked into his workshop. There
she stood, all nineteen years of her, drops of sweat glistening from the skin
above her tank top, rolling down to the slight gap revealed by her
borderline-demure neckline, hair scraped back into a ponytail, a perspiring
beer bottle dangling from each hand.
She kicked the door shut behind her.
“Thought you could use a break.” She plunked one beer on the
counter, then twisted the cap off the other and handed it to him.
Who could resist? His throat was parched and dusty. He wiped
his hands on his jeans and reached with gratitude for the beer and knocked back
a third of it in one go.
She opened her own and did the same.
“Thanks,” he gasped, once he could drag the bottle away from
his lips. “I needed that.”
“Thought so. How come you’re still here?”
“Want to get this cabinet done before I go home tonight.”
“You work too hard.” Tara glanced around the workshop.
“Daddy should get air conditioning in here.”
“Yeah, well, I kind of like it like this.” He liked the open
door, the open windows, even if the only view was the delivery yard. Didn’t get
that at the Fermanagh Institution. Electronically locked doors, sealed frosted
windows, cold, stale recycled air.
He’d take the heat with the freedom any day.
Tara took another swallow of her beer and walked over to the
bench to examine the cabinet. “It’s beautiful. You’re good at this.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You like working here.”
“Yeah, I like it.” Except for Jarmin. And Tara.
“You know I’m leaving for Toronto tonight?”
“Tonight, eh?” He’d been counting the days, now the hours,
until this incredibly tempting creature was safely on the other side of the
country living with her mother and attending university, and he wouldn’t have
to clench his fists and tighten his balls to keep his libido under control
whenever she was around, or near, or Leo mentioned her name, or—
“Will you miss me?” she asked point blank, then took another
draw on her beer, not taking her eyes from him.
“Sure, why not?” That was good. Casual. Don’t care. “Are you
old enough to be drinking?”
“You know damn well I am. Even if my dad still thinks I’m
about twelve.”
Tara put the beer down and reached for his, which he
relinquished. That was probably his first mistake. Except maybe for accepting
the beer in the first place. Or not locking the workshop door.