18
I kick open the front door to the lodge and carry Dakota up the stairs. Her head stays buried in my chest. She shivers like she’s lost in a Montana blizzard.
Fear and rage sweep over me like a rogue wave. I’m still not over the buzz of the tracker sending my heart into red-alert status. I ran. All I can see is Dakota lying on The Corner Store floor, shaking.
And I lost it.
So much for remaining emotionless.
Instead, a jagged edge of raw want carves me up inside.
I’ve kept my hands off her and now all I want to do is wrap her in my arms, keep her tucked against me forever, safe from any speck of darkness lurking in the outside world.
Guilt sideswipes me, making my stomach drop. Not even two weeks in and she’s hurt on my watch.
I can’t even fucking protect her.
This woman who means the entire world to me.
The thought has me letting out a growl.
Dakota looks up at me. “Davis?” she whispers.
I stomp into the bathroom and gently set her on the countertop. Dakota’s inky eyes still haven’t lost their glassiness. I move to the tub and turn on the shower, crank the heat as hot as it can go.
“What’re you doing?” she asks.
“Getting you warm. You’re in shock. Anxiety. Chills. You had a panic attack.”
Her eyes shutter. “A daymare.”
“A daymare.”
Steam churns around us. The mirror fogs.
After testing the pelting water, I come back to her.
She wets her lips and slips off the countertop. “Help me undress?”
“Yeah.” My throat feels like there are shards of glass in it.
Careful of her arm, I take her clothes off. First the puffy parka, then the oversized hoodie and jeans. She shivers in her bra and her panties, her dark hair spilling down over her slender shoulders and porcelain skin. My gaze drops to her belly. Small, slightly swollen, sexy as hell.
“Let’s protect that cast,” I say, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her arm. It’ll have to do for now.
Dakota’s smile is wan. “Hotshot to the rescue again.” She slips her good hand behind her, and before I can say anything, her bra is off.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Perfect full breasts.
I’m glued to the spot. Dakota’s a dream. A man doesn’t wake up from a woman like this.
She stares at me with those incredible brown eyes, like she’s waiting for me to do something, say something. “Well?”
“Dakota. Get in the goddamn shower,” I say harshly.
After a frustrated tilt of her chin, she kicks away her jeans, and steps into the shower in a silky, barely there thong. I avert my gaze from the sway of her tight little ass and battle the low groan building in my chest. Because fuck me, it’s not okay how badly I want her.
Still, I can’t keep my eyes off her for long, because when I glance back over, she’s drawing the curtain shut, her balance precarious.
Something primitive and protective courses through my bloodstream.
Has me storming across the tile. When I reach through the sheer shower curtain to hold her firmly by the elbow, she gasps.
“I can do it, Hotshot.”
“You’re not slipping,” I order, holding tighter.
While she soaps her curves and her belly, I grit my teeth and try not to look as the hot water rains over her body. Until one pert nipple drags over the roughness of my knuckles.
I whip my head to her. “Jesus Christ, Koty.”
Her coy smile causes my cock to jerk to attention.
So goddamn wrong.
She just had a panic attack, and now she’s daring me to do something with the fire building in my veins.
That’s fucking it.
With a rough hand, I tear open the curtain and lift her out of the shower. I carry her dripping wet across the bathroom floor, set her down on top of the counter, and cover her with a towel.
Her shoulders rotate back and she stares at me as if she’s furious and sad at the same. “I thought you wanted me warm.”
I softly grip her jaw and lean in. Her brown eyes narrow so fiercely I could burn up in their fire. “I won’t play this game, Dakota.”
“What game?” The slender length of her throat works. “You don’t touch me. You haven’t touched me since I got here.”
A muscle pulses in my jaw. “Dakota, this is not what you need right now.”
“I need you.” Her voice is an unsteady whisper. “I need you so bad, Davis.”
I don’t answer, because if I do, it’s all over. I’ve reached a boiling point in my head and my heart. My cock aches to plow through the front of my pants like a bulldozer.
“What if…” Dakota slips off the counter and lets the towel drop. I try to ignore how damn beautiful she looks. Soap suds trail down her breasts, and water glistens on her collarbones. She’s dewy and damp, a shy flush tinging her cheeks.
Her eyes glitter as she reaches for the dog tag with one pale hand. She licks her lips—those full, plump lips, that delicate freckle—and says, “What if I pressed it again?”
She does.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. The shrill alarm that normally would have annihilated me on the spot now has my erection thickening.
“You’re abusing your privilege,” I grit out, shooting her a warning look.
“What if I want to?”
“It’s getting hard to do the right thing here,” I growl.
“So don’t.” Her long lashes flutter, her eyes dark with heat. “You never break the rules, but we did. A long time ago, we did. And it was good, right?”
“It was great.” On a groan, I shake my head. My heart pumps out a rhythm of self-destruction. “But—”
“But I’m different. I know that.” Vulnerability stains her words. She takes a shuddery breath, fisting one hand in the hem of my T-shirt. “I’m not the girl you knew. I know I’m pregnant. I know I’m weak, but I—”
The words have barely left her mouth before I cup her face in my hands and force her gaze to mine. “That’s bullshit. You’re never weak. You hear me?”
A tear slips down her cheek. “We can’t go back. You forgot about me. I get it, but I don’t want to be lonely, Davis. I don’t want this feeling in me anymore.” Her head falls back, a sob tearing at my heart. “Help me make it through the night. Just one night.”
Her words—and my goddamn dog tag dangling between her full breasts—piss me off. A part of me she’s carried with her these last six years is touching her skin and I’m not.
She thinks I don’t want her and I do.
Fuck it.
My mouth lands on hers, hard, demanding. The entire world disappears. Nothing’s changed. That spark between us is a wildfire.
Her and me. That’s it.
Dakota moans, her tongue slipping over mine as her hand slides up my chest. Her nails dig into the hard meat of my shoulder, and she clings to me.
“You think I haven’t imagined us together every single day since you left?
” I rasp when I pull away from her. My heart pulses in time with my throbbing cock.
“You think I haven’t been worried sick when you went silent?
That’s why I fucking dream at night now.
Because I lost you. Because I couldn’t find you, and it terrified me, Dakota. ”
Those dark eyes widen, and she takes in a sharp breath. Too sharp.
I’ve said more than I should have. Before she can respond, I grab the back of her neck and crush my lips to hers. She tastes like cream and sugar. I drink her in. Eat her up.
A better man would stop this.
But who the fuck am I kidding?
I haven’t been a better man since I left the Marines. Since I set foot on the ranch and Dakota charmed her way into my life.
She wrenches at my shirt, her hips bucking against me. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Her urgency, her whimpered breaths, her eager hands, slay me. Six years of missing her, of rock-hard want, explodes in my chest. Unable to stop myself, I back her against the counter and yank the strap of her soaked thong, tearing it off roughly.
A delighted gasp escapes her lips.
Fuck if it’s wrong. Fuck the promises I made to Stede. I feel like a racehorse who’s been holding himself back, and now that I have permission, I’m out of the gate and running. Tonight, I need Dakota. And this woman—she needs me. I’ll give her every broken piece of me if it means protecting her.
I get on my knees and look up at her. “Stop me if I hurt you.” I tell her sternly. “I can’t hurt you, Dakota.” My voice is hoarse, shaky even to my own ears.
“You won’t,” she whispers breathlessly, searching my eyes. “Never.”
It’s not only her trust in me but also her vulnerability that gives me hope, the tentative promise that we can go back to what we had before. Even if it’s just for one night.
Her eyes glow as she stares down at me. A feral, beautiful look has taken over her face. Shower steam rolls through the bathroom, her entire body dewy and slick.
“Open your legs, Cupcake. Let me taste you.”
“Yes.” Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Oh, goddamn, Davis.”
A low groan slips out of me when I split her pussy with my tongue. Sweet. Swollen. I bury my tongue in her pussy and inhale. Her head falls back on a moan.
“Oh god,” she pants. Her fingers grip the sink counter, knuckles white. “ Oh . Hotshot,” she breathes.
I slow my pace, pulling back to say, “Ride my mouth, baby. Ride it like a good girl.”
A half-pant, half-plea erupts from her chest. “Yes, yes .”
Dakota rolls her hips, and I lave my tongue across the bud of her clit. She bucks, and I smile at the sound of her cry echoing in the bathroom. Her legs tremble on either side of me.
She clutches at my shoulders. Her nails dig in and make crescent-shaped marks. “Oh fuck,” she breathes.
Forcing her thighs wide, I milk that pussy. Juices stream down the inside of her thighs.
“Look how wet you are,” I grit out. “Soaked, baby.”
“For you,” she gasps, trembling. “It’s always for you, Davis.”
Her words cause a five-alarm fire in my brain. By now I’m fucking primal, my only focus Dakota. As desperate as I am to get inside her, all I want to do is push this woman until she’s gasping for air.
Dakota bows back, her breasts bouncing as she lifts her hips to let me in deeper.
I thrust my tongue into her. So damp. So drenched. So goddamn tight. I graze my tongue over the small bundle of nerves and watch the sweat bead on her skin.
Dakota cries out, her walls clenching around me.