Talon had made it to where his steam cycle was parked next to the man-high side brick fence. Even in the poor lights out there, the thing gleamed some dark color—black most likely, knowing him. A two seater with landship tread at the back. One exhaust stack, pointed skyward. The canvas roof was open like it had been when he rode past the post office.
As she strolled forward, he turned, spun even—and there was no wobbliness at all. Rose frowned and took the last yard fast, drew her S&W revolver left-handed, and slammed her hand up onto his throat. She lifted him six inches off the ground with most of the weight under his jaw so he could breathe. The pistol went under his ribs.
“Okay, you cunning bastard, I can see you’re not drunk. No idea how, but when I let you down, you’re facing your cycle and showing me both wrists. Got it?”
“You do realize, you should not be able to lift me.”
“Huh?”
“No woman can lift this much one-handed.”
“Surprise, surprise. I can. It’s the croquet, and all the oatmeal.” Why wasn’t he sounding half-strangled?
“I am not going to hurt you. I don’t like guns pointed at me.”
Hurt me? As if. “At you? It’s only your ri—”
The move was fast and unexpected. She couldn’t counter it and barely knew what he’d done after it was over. Her pistol was gone, she’d been shoved into the brick wall hard enough to sting her back, and Talon held both her hands above her head. Each of his hands pinned one of her wrists. They were both breathing hard.
“Don’t scream. I’ll let you go. I just wanted you out here to talk, like I said.”
She blinked. How had he done that? No one, ever, bested her.
“You’re a freak.” She wriggled her wrists but all that did was rub some of her skin off on the brick.
Could kick him. As if he’d read her mind, he crowded her—his body pressing close. Groin to groin, his chest to her breasts, and his mouth inches away from hers. And there it was—that kerthump sinking feeling again. The temperature between her legs went up several degrees, and wet…she was much wetter down there.
“Freak? Am I?” She heard that dead smile in his words again. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m the sheriff.” He still held her. “The letting go bit? Remember? My deputy is coming.”
“Not yet he isn’t. I can’t hear him.” The pause stretched to breaking point. “You’ve been stupid, Sheriff.”
Yeah, she guessed she had. She’d thought she could take him. Killing someone took seconds, if you knew how. Looking into Talon’s night-darkened eyes only reinforced her gut instinct—this man could kill. But he hadn’t. And now, though she could try screaming, that meant sucking in a heap of air, and he’d know.
On the flip side… “If you’d wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”
“True.” So close, she felt the waft of warm air from his mouth as he spoke. She smelled him every time she inhaled.
As if he read her mind, he leaned in and put his nose to her neck where it was bared by her collar. His warm skin on hers. The fine bristles on his chin rasped at her. She tensed.
Why am I not protesting? I’m not some floozy. No? Then why haven’t I screamed for Deputy Yale? And sod it, that man is slow.
“Kill you? You smell too good, beautiful. I think I have other plans.”
Beautiful? Other plans? She stopped breathing. No one called her that. Especially not a six foot plus hunk of man who could, for once, eat her all up without half trying. His thigh moved in, denim to denim, pressing upward to where her clit resided. God damn, that’s…
The wall seemed to slide a half inch upward, because her knees had caved. She’d melted—bone, muscle, everything. The only thing stopping her slide was his knee between her legs, and her arms fastened above.
Around her wrists his grip rhythmically relaxed then tightened as if he was thinking. She thought about swallowing again, but that would be a dead giveaway to her arousal.
“You’ve never been kissed, have you, Rose?”
“Of course I have.” The huskiness in her voice bothered her. He’d know. Got to get back on the job. Get out of this hold for starters.
“No. You’ve never had a man kiss you, though you might have kissed them. There’s a difference. I doubt anyone else could handle you. I can.”
Stunned, she gaped at him.
Above, he put her hands together and held them in one fist. She pushed outward but still couldn’t budge him. Her next deep breath pressed her breasts into his chest. And he put his hand to her neck—without asking, like it belonged there. Like he had the right to do whatever he wished. The sensation tripped her into another land. Here was a man unafraid to do what he wanted with her.
Thumb on one side of her neck, fingers on the other, holding her there too, he spoke. “Done trying to escape?”
She simply breathed, watched, like waiting for an avalanche. Then ever so slowly, without fuss, he came in for a kiss.
Her brain kicked in. “My deputy—”
His mouth covered hers.
Warmth flooded through her. Slowly she closed her eyes, as he assaulted her mouth and claimed her. Fastened to the wall by his hands and body, she had no choice, for he leaned in harder and almost nailed her in place. His kisses, the subtle thrust of his thigh up into her pussy, the constant grasp on her throat and the way he let her have absolutely no way to move her hands, it all built into a storm that rumbled through her.
The kisses grew rougher, he nipped at her mouth, and pushed her head back so he could bite and suck at her throat.
Soon her moans and the sound of his lips and teeth and tongue on her were all she could hear. She writhed against his thigh, and his hand stroked where her shirt had ridden up above her navel.
He leaned his head onto her neck so her head was forced back. Above her own ragged breaths, she heard his quiet words.
“So soft. This is you. Not these.” He tapped her pistol, then his hand wormed down deeper between the top of her low riding jeans and her skin. Too tight, he only got one finger down close…a small distance from her little throbbing clit. Oh, she could tell to a fraction of an inch how far that finger needed to go.
The tension pulling upward on the skin of her mound was enough to make her feel it, to feel it ever so good. She clenched down there. Her clit moved, his finger stayed where it rested.
The moan she gave was low and drawn out. She ground herself up into his thigh.
He raised his head, and studied her. The hand, the finger stayed put. “You’d like me there, wouldn’t you, inside you?”
Only for a half a second did she hesitate. “God, yes.” Please, almost slipped out too. She met his eyes. And he smiled.
“I thought so.” Then abruptly, he removed his hand, released her and stepped away. “I know where your house is. I’ll meet you there.”
The egotistical statement…the sheer gall of him left her standing there, shivering. But, he had her. She needed the wall behind her to stay upright. He’d claimed her somehow in a most devastating way. She wanted him so much, she’d claw her way through Hell to find him again. At least for tonight, she would. Her panties were sodden. Her jeans might be too. If he didn’t have a cock the size of a rhinoceros, she would be terribly disappointed.
He ignited the engine of his steam cycle and rode away, the headlights carving light into the darkness. The one moment of hesitation in him was a glance backward, as if he had some doubts.
She’d be lucky if she didn’t make squishy noises when she walked. That had been so good. She shut her eyes, and remembered.
Her pistol was on the ground nearby. It’d need cleaning before she could trust it. Deputy Yale turned up a few minutes later. She dismissed him and walked out to Albert. On the ride home, she wasn’t sure Albert’s hooves were touching the earth. But reality leaked back in.
What was she doing? Remember why you wanted to talk to him? About Mr. Turpitt? Do not forget. For a second she wondered how he’d known where she lived, until she recalled the neat new community sign on the way into town—the one that had sheriff’s house, library, and so on, all marked out in pretty colors. She’d paint that out tomorrow.
The steam cycle was parked at the gravel driveway. He was there already, at her front porch—all intense and masculine, in his black, and with a look in his eyes that said, I’m waiting for you, and you alone.
Doubts crumbled. But, words needed to be said.
“You know”—she watched his face as she walked up the three steps—”I don’t generally ask strangers back to my house a half hour after we meet.”
“I understand. I had the same reservations. But I’m here. Besides, you didn’t ask me. Either tell me to go away, or let me in.”
That he hadn’t made a joke about this raised him up in her expectations. “Would you go?”
The only light was shed by the early moon. He put his shoulder against the wall, folded his arms and studied her. “No. Because you don’t want me to.”
She spun the keys on her finger. It wasn’t that she didn’t do one night stands, it was that this was the first time it hadn’t been under her control. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
He didn’t say another word, just waited.
Damn, he was good at that.
The keys shook just a little as she inserted them in the lock.
His fingers encompassed hers. He kissed her nape, once. “Allow me.”
As she strolled forward, he turned, spun even—and there was no wobbliness at all. Rose frowned and took the last yard fast, drew her S&W revolver left-handed, and slammed her hand up onto his throat. She lifted him six inches off the ground with most of the weight under his jaw so he could breathe. The pistol went under his ribs.
“Okay, you cunning bastard, I can see you’re not drunk. No idea how, but when I let you down, you’re facing your cycle and showing me both wrists. Got it?”
“You do realize, you should not be able to lift me.”
“Huh?”
“No woman can lift this much one-handed.”
“Surprise, surprise. I can. It’s the croquet, and all the oatmeal.” Why wasn’t he sounding half-strangled?
“I am not going to hurt you. I don’t like guns pointed at me.”
Hurt me? As if. “At you? It’s only your ri—”
The move was fast and unexpected. She couldn’t counter it and barely knew what he’d done after it was over. Her pistol was gone, she’d been shoved into the brick wall hard enough to sting her back, and Talon held both her hands above her head. Each of his hands pinned one of her wrists. They were both breathing hard.
“Don’t scream. I’ll let you go. I just wanted you out here to talk, like I said.”
She blinked. How had he done that? No one, ever, bested her.
“You’re a freak.” She wriggled her wrists but all that did was rub some of her skin off on the brick.
Could kick him. As if he’d read her mind, he crowded her—his body pressing close. Groin to groin, his chest to her breasts, and his mouth inches away from hers. And there it was—that kerthump sinking feeling again. The temperature between her legs went up several degrees, and wet…she was much wetter down there.
“Freak? Am I?” She heard that dead smile in his words again. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m the sheriff.” He still held her. “The letting go bit? Remember? My deputy is coming.”
“Not yet he isn’t. I can’t hear him.” The pause stretched to breaking point. “You’ve been stupid, Sheriff.”
Yeah, she guessed she had. She’d thought she could take him. Killing someone took seconds, if you knew how. Looking into Talon’s night-darkened eyes only reinforced her gut instinct—this man could kill. But he hadn’t. And now, though she could try screaming, that meant sucking in a heap of air, and he’d know.
On the flip side… “If you’d wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”
“True.” So close, she felt the waft of warm air from his mouth as he spoke. She smelled him every time she inhaled.
As if he read her mind, he leaned in and put his nose to her neck where it was bared by her collar. His warm skin on hers. The fine bristles on his chin rasped at her. She tensed.
Why am I not protesting? I’m not some floozy. No? Then why haven’t I screamed for Deputy Yale? And sod it, that man is slow.
“Kill you? You smell too good, beautiful. I think I have other plans.”
Beautiful? Other plans? She stopped breathing. No one called her that. Especially not a six foot plus hunk of man who could, for once, eat her all up without half trying. His thigh moved in, denim to denim, pressing upward to where her clit resided. God damn, that’s…
The wall seemed to slide a half inch upward, because her knees had caved. She’d melted—bone, muscle, everything. The only thing stopping her slide was his knee between her legs, and her arms fastened above.
Around her wrists his grip rhythmically relaxed then tightened as if he was thinking. She thought about swallowing again, but that would be a dead giveaway to her arousal.
“You’ve never been kissed, have you, Rose?”
“Of course I have.” The huskiness in her voice bothered her. He’d know. Got to get back on the job. Get out of this hold for starters.
“No. You’ve never had a man kiss you, though you might have kissed them. There’s a difference. I doubt anyone else could handle you. I can.”
Stunned, she gaped at him.
Above, he put her hands together and held them in one fist. She pushed outward but still couldn’t budge him. Her next deep breath pressed her breasts into his chest. And he put his hand to her neck—without asking, like it belonged there. Like he had the right to do whatever he wished. The sensation tripped her into another land. Here was a man unafraid to do what he wanted with her.
Thumb on one side of her neck, fingers on the other, holding her there too, he spoke. “Done trying to escape?”
She simply breathed, watched, like waiting for an avalanche. Then ever so slowly, without fuss, he came in for a kiss.
Her brain kicked in. “My deputy—”
His mouth covered hers.
Warmth flooded through her. Slowly she closed her eyes, as he assaulted her mouth and claimed her. Fastened to the wall by his hands and body, she had no choice, for he leaned in harder and almost nailed her in place. His kisses, the subtle thrust of his thigh up into her pussy, the constant grasp on her throat and the way he let her have absolutely no way to move her hands, it all built into a storm that rumbled through her.
The kisses grew rougher, he nipped at her mouth, and pushed her head back so he could bite and suck at her throat.
Soon her moans and the sound of his lips and teeth and tongue on her were all she could hear. She writhed against his thigh, and his hand stroked where her shirt had ridden up above her navel.
He leaned his head onto her neck so her head was forced back. Above her own ragged breaths, she heard his quiet words.
“So soft. This is you. Not these.” He tapped her pistol, then his hand wormed down deeper between the top of her low riding jeans and her skin. Too tight, he only got one finger down close…a small distance from her little throbbing clit. Oh, she could tell to a fraction of an inch how far that finger needed to go.
The tension pulling upward on the skin of her mound was enough to make her feel it, to feel it ever so good. She clenched down there. Her clit moved, his finger stayed where it rested.
The moan she gave was low and drawn out. She ground herself up into his thigh.
He raised his head, and studied her. The hand, the finger stayed put. “You’d like me there, wouldn’t you, inside you?”
Only for a half a second did she hesitate. “God, yes.” Please, almost slipped out too. She met his eyes. And he smiled.
“I thought so.” Then abruptly, he removed his hand, released her and stepped away. “I know where your house is. I’ll meet you there.”
The egotistical statement…the sheer gall of him left her standing there, shivering. But, he had her. She needed the wall behind her to stay upright. He’d claimed her somehow in a most devastating way. She wanted him so much, she’d claw her way through Hell to find him again. At least for tonight, she would. Her panties were sodden. Her jeans might be too. If he didn’t have a cock the size of a rhinoceros, she would be terribly disappointed.
He ignited the engine of his steam cycle and rode away, the headlights carving light into the darkness. The one moment of hesitation in him was a glance backward, as if he had some doubts.
She’d be lucky if she didn’t make squishy noises when she walked. That had been so good. She shut her eyes, and remembered.
Her pistol was on the ground nearby. It’d need cleaning before she could trust it. Deputy Yale turned up a few minutes later. She dismissed him and walked out to Albert. On the ride home, she wasn’t sure Albert’s hooves were touching the earth. But reality leaked back in.
What was she doing? Remember why you wanted to talk to him? About Mr. Turpitt? Do not forget. For a second she wondered how he’d known where she lived, until she recalled the neat new community sign on the way into town—the one that had sheriff’s house, library, and so on, all marked out in pretty colors. She’d paint that out tomorrow.
The steam cycle was parked at the gravel driveway. He was there already, at her front porch—all intense and masculine, in his black, and with a look in his eyes that said, I’m waiting for you, and you alone.
Doubts crumbled. But, words needed to be said.
“You know”—she watched his face as she walked up the three steps—”I don’t generally ask strangers back to my house a half hour after we meet.”
“I understand. I had the same reservations. But I’m here. Besides, you didn’t ask me. Either tell me to go away, or let me in.”
That he hadn’t made a joke about this raised him up in her expectations. “Would you go?”
The only light was shed by the early moon. He put his shoulder against the wall, folded his arms and studied her. “No. Because you don’t want me to.”
She spun the keys on her finger. It wasn’t that she didn’t do one night stands, it was that this was the first time it hadn’t been under her control. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
He didn’t say another word, just waited.
Damn, he was good at that.
The keys shook just a little as she inserted them in the lock.
His fingers encompassed hers. He kissed her nape, once. “Allow me.”