Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Warrick
Z ara’s scream had me dropping the glass saltshaker, and I took the stairs up, two at a time, and got to the loft as she shot up in bed, grabbing at her throat. I got to her side. “Zara, Zara, baby, look at me!”
Her chest was heaving a mile a minute, and her gaze was still splintered, probably shifting between her nightmare and the present. I drew on my hunting lessons with Dad, but there were no swift movements. Gently, I touched her arm. “Hey, I’m here… Look at me.”
Her eyes snapped to me and recognition sparked in her eyes. “Warrick? Did I?—”
“Let out a bloodcurdling scream that scared me to shit? Yeah,” I replied. “Do you want some water?”
“Maybe something hotter,” she said, eyes dropping to her lap, clearly ashamed about another panic attack in my presence.
“Okay, c’mon.” I helped her out of bed and kept an eye on her as we descended the ladder. When we went to the kitchen, she curled up on the loveseat while I got a kettle on and cleaned up the shattered glass and salt.
“Do you have nightmares a lot?” I asked gently, my back turned to her, knowing she still felt ashamed about her scream.
I kept my back to her, giving her a modicum of privacy while I seasoned the New York Strip steaks with salt, ground pepper, and a sprinkling of red pepper for a little kick. With the cast iron pan searing hot, I seared them off.
“No, I usually don’t,” she said. I barely heard her over the sizzle of the meat.
“Any reason why they would start now?” I asked, and this time, I looked over at her.
Her face was turned to the window, her expression void. “I don’t know.”
That was the first time I had ever heard her lie to me, but I didn’t call her out on it. I stacked that tidbit away for later as I basted the meat with thyme, rosemary, garlic, and butter. I kept an eye on the boiling potatoes and the diced mushrooms ready to be sautéed.
“Maybe it’s stress,” I told her. “When I was recuperating from the accident, the stress made me have nightmares night after night. Hell, even when I napped during the day, I had nightmares. I relived the accident over and over again until I saw myself dead in twenty variations. I still have PTSD from it.”
Zara’s face dropped. “You still relive that night?”
“Sometimes.”
“And I went and showed it to you. Oh god, Warrick, I am so, so sorry.” She sounded so sorrowful and regretful. I pivoted to see her slipping off the couch. She then wrapped her arms around my waist from behind.
Feeling her press so close to me and hearing her express herself so freely made me want to tell her it was all right, but for now, I settled on circling one arm around her briefly and kissing her temple. She felt so small and vulnerable. All I wanted to do was protect her, even from herself.
“I hope you take your steaks medium rare,” I said, pulling the meat out and resting them while I poured heavy cream into the potatoes and added a dash of salt and pepper and some garlic.
She peered into the pot. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“During recovery, I distracted myself with videos and ended up falling down the rabbit hole of cooking videos. They taught me more than when my mother tried,” I said. “And believe me, she tried.”
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked.
At that very moment, Goose came and nudged my knee, telling me he needed to go out. I asked Zara to take him. She nodded, “Let me put on some pants.”
Since we had not taken our bags out, I watched as she crouched. The edge of her boy shorts cupping her round bottom sparked the lingering lust I still held from earlier. I wanted to be inside her badly, but that was going to be later on.
She left, and I fixed the rest of dinner, getting a little concerned about how long she was taking to get back in. So, with the food covered and in the oven, I got my boots on and headed out to find Zara and Goose at the north of the cabin, where there was a break in the trees.
It was a place where you could see all the miles and miles of pasturelands below; beyond those, she could see my hometown.
“I know you explained why you left this place, but did you find it any easier being away?” she asked.
“The first place I ended up in after leaving here was Lincoln, Nebraska, with a small training camp… I trained every day and worked every night,” I replied. “When I ended up in Queens for half a year, I’d gotten spoiled by how close things were: banks, supermarkets, ATMs, the ER, and believe me, I used a lot of that.”
“Most people thought I’d left because small-town life wasn’t enough for me, but that wasn’t exactly it. I liked the quiet and being so close to nature up here, but I’d felt stifled. After I left Dallas, I knew my life would circle back here one day… I just didn’t know when or why. I was young and knew I would have to be a bit older to take on as much responsibility for the ranch.”
She turned, her hand dropping idly onto Goose’s head. He rubbed his head into her palm. “Let’s get back inside.”
We reentered the cabin, and while she curled up on the couch, still rubbing Goose’s ears, I plated up. She took a quick trip to wash her hands before returning and tucked into her meat—her groan was orgasmic.
“God, this is good.” She groaned. “You can cook for me anytime.”
“Marie is jealous of her kitchen,” I said. “She would scold me if I got anywhere near her territory. Do you cook?”
Zara snickered. “Hell no, I can’t even boil water without burning it. And I know that is physically impossible, but I have done it.”
I found myself increasingly curious about Zara’s life. “What sort of things do you do well?”
“I—” she paused. “—I guess I could say the one thing I do well is my job as a PA. I didn’t really excel at sports or arts. I never really found my groove until I was dropped into the office.”
She sounded…evasive. And I didn’t like that. Why was she so cagey with her past?
“I guess I’ve been middle of the road all my life,” she replied. “What do you do for fun around here, because I have zero wilderness skills? I watched one of those wilderness shows once and was convinced a scorpion had snuck into my room and bit me. I even got hives.”
“Up here, there are a lot of things that hunt once the sun goes down.”
“ Hunt ?” She sounded aghast. “Like actually trap and kill and skin and…drain blood?”
I went to get the fire going, and when the fireplace in the cabin was getting relatively warm despite the wind coming in the window, I sat back on my haunches. “Yes, and in winter.”
“Winter? As in, aren't all the bears hibernating?” “
“Grizzlies, yes, between November and March, and it is rare for one of them to leave their den during that time,” I shut the window and went to take my seat.
“When they do, it's usually because the den is getting too cold or small, or they're hungry, and believe me, you don't want to run into a hungry bear. But the bigger concern is cougars.”
“Cougars?” Zara sounded strangled. “Like big, scary, claw-y mountain cats that can claw your face off?”
“Well, it damn sure isn't older women on the prowl.” I grinned before seriousness dried my smile. “They hunt at night and don't differentiate between a deer, cows, or a human. If they sense blood and it’s alive, they're going to go after it.”
“Bad mental image. Ugh.” She shivered and lifted her plate, then gestured for mine.
“No, I’ll get it,” I replied.
Her eyes narrowed. “You cooked. It’s the rule not to let the cook clean, so gimme.”
Laughing, I handed her the plate and watched as she began to rinse; I got up and slung my arm around her, pulling her into my front and kissing her neck. With both hands dunked into the sudsy water, she tried to fend me off with her shoulder—I kissed her harder.
“Stop—” she dropped her ear to her shoulder.
“No.”
“I’m sensitive there!” She bumped her butt to my front, trying—and failing—to dislodge me, but her motion backfired. “Stop trying to seduce me with your…your…your seductive wiles!”
“So, you find me seductive.”
“I do not .”
“Liar,” I dug my fingers into her side. “You can’t hide the truth from me.”
In a swift motion, I yanked her hands from the water, spun her to the wall, caught her wrists in one hand, and pinned them above her head. Holding her in place, I kissed her. Driving my tongue home, I pressed my hard, aroused body against hers.
Within seconds, she gave in, yielding with a sigh, and her soft little body stretched tautly against my own hard edges as she strained against me, her stiff nipples teasing at my chest through layers of fabric.
The taste and feel of her flooded my senses, exploding into raw desire. Zara stuck her damp hands into my hair and sucked on my tongue. It only heated my blood more. Shifting, I slipped a hand between us, cupped her pussy, and pressed a thumb right above her clit.
She pulled her head away, her chest punched up with a breath. “Oh god. Do that again.”
“Like that, huh?” My voice was rough as my thumb ran over her covered clit. “I want to strip you down, tease and taunt you, pinch your nipples until your tight little pussy squeezes around my cock.”
Her eyes were blown wide as I hauled her to the couch; she straddled me as her mouth covered mine, my lungs burning as my palms slid up the silken softness of her inner thighs. She got to her knees, and I understood her desire. I plucked the button on those shorts out and tugged them down her legs.
I covered her mouth with mine, drinking in her gasp as my fingers bypassed her panties, stroked through the small patch of curls, and petted the slick petals below.
Her hips lurched desperately against my hand, and Zara bit down on her bottom lip as I played with her clit, stroking it, circling it—pleasure showed on her face, but I knew it wouldn’t fulfill her.
Rolling her clit with my thumb, I pushed inside; she was hot, wet, so tight. So bloody perfect. “Come for me,” I rasped against her ear.
Zara gripped my shoulders, pressed her forehead into my collarbone, and climaxed with a soundless gasp. I barely restrained my own ragged groan as she came. The lush flutters around my fingers made my erection jerk underneath my jeans.
“You’ve got devilish fingers.” She kissed hard and rough, while my fingers kept moving inside her, and I moaned into her mouth. “This time, I am going to return the favor.”
She sank to the floor, popping my jeans, and I eased up as I tugged the well-worn denim down to my shins; she palmed me, hot and hard; I rolled my hips, as she stroked my thick, ruddy cock.
She absently licked her bottom lip, and I groaned, imagining that sweet, lush mouth of hers wrapped tight around my cock as she sucked me off, those big green eyes of hers looking up at me as she did so.
Meeting my eyes, she flattened her tongue against the smooth underside of my cock, licking slow, teasing me, making my breath quicken. I gripped the back of her head as she wrapped her lips around the thick head of my cock.
“Oh fuck,” I hissed.
Zara trapped the ridge of my crown under her lips as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive head, pushing her head until it hit the back of her throat—with a moan. She swallowed around me, tongue fluttering against the sensitive underside, again and again.
I lost myself in the rhythm, in the pleasure of her touch, of the jabs of lightning streaking up my spine. She pulled back; the moans around me were constant now.
“Do you like sucking my cock that much?” I hissed out a breath and swore, my voice low, gravelly, and full of raw lust. “Stop teasing me and take me all the way to the back of your throat.”
Zara opened her mouth wider, allowing me to push her head down, down, down the length of my erection until she’d enveloped almost every inch of me. She reflexively swallowed around the engorged tip, and I groaned like a dying man.
My breath came hard and fast, and just when she’d prepared herself to swallow as I climaxed, I abruptly pulled her mouth off me. “Get on the bed… now .”