"Most likely." The tone of Frank's voice bordered on resignation as he concentrated on rubbing soot off his palm. "There was nothing in either stall that could have started the fire."
J.T.'s jaw hardened as his first two prime suspects entered his mind without any prompting. "Where were Randal and Mike?"
Frank shook his head, already ahead of the game. "I checked them out first thing. Mike had a solid alibi and Randal said he was watching TV in his cabin when he heard the hands yelling for help. Both men helped to put out the fire."
Uneasiness crept over J.T. "I want the fire marshall out here tomorrow to conduct an investigation." And maybe he'd mention the strange occurrences that had happened over the past week, just to get them recorded for future reference.
Frank nodded. "Will do."
Nearly an hour later, after the animals had been secured in the undamaged section of the barn, J.T. slipped into the quiet, dark house. The guest bathroom shower was running, and J.T. assumed Caitlan was in there, scrubbing the smoke and soot from her body. He found Laura fast asleep in her bed. Placing a loving kiss on her cheek, he smoothed the covers, then left her room and headed back down the hall.
J.T. restlessly paced the guest room while waiting for Caitlan. He tried not to imagine her in the shower, the warm water and slick soap sluicing over her silken skin, and failed. He wanted her too badly not to respond to the merest thought of her.
She was well and truly in his blood, a growing fever that made him burn from the inside out. He thought of having a wife, a mother for Laura, and how he wanted all that with Caitlan, a woman who would risk her life to save a horse. A woman who gave him so much without realizing it. Love. Laughter. Anger. Passion.
He didn't know how he'd been fortunate enough to have found her-or the other way around, as the case might be-but he was willing to fight for her, to prove that she belonged here on the Circle R with him and Laura.
Before he could talk himself out of joining her in the shower, he began stripping off his clothes. With every article hastily shed, his body grew achingly hard for her, his heart opening to receive her in the purest sense. Seconds later he stepped into the steamy bathroom and smiled when he saw her misty outline through the frosted glass shower stall door.
The time had come for him and Caitlan to settle a few things.
Chapter Twelve
Caitlan sensed J.T. before she actually heard or saw him. Eyes closed, the hot shower spray rinsed away the last of the soap from her body and hair and pounded the tense muscles across her back. An incredible awareness swelled within her, as if J.T. had reached out and physically caressed her. The shower stall door opened on a soft click and she shivered, not from the cool air rushing in but from the sensual anticipation racing along her spine.
Her lashes fluttered open and she looked at J.T., standing just outside the shower. He was naked and aroused, all sleek strength and firm, hard muscle. Liquid heat fluttered in her belly when his dark gaze slowly, reverently, glided the length of her body, and then back up again. Desire had clouded his eyes by the time he'd finished his visual exploration.
Touched by live flame, she fought the urge to cover herself. She knew what he wanted, knew she should tell him to leave, but her need and love for him eclipsed any semblance of reason or modesty she might have had.
He stepped inside the one-person stall and shut the door. Water droplets bounced off her and clung to his skin. He stood so close she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. So close, his erection brushed her belly like a velvet caress and the tips of her breasts grazed the sprinkling of hair on his chest. Her nipples puckered into exquisitely tight buds, and she resisted the impulse to move even closer and rub against him.
The intense need blazing in his eyes kicked her heart into a heavy beat, reminding her of the desperate way he'd kissed her and held her after pulling her from the barn, as if he never wanted to let her go. Indeed, she hadn't wanted him to release her. At the time she'd rationalized his reaction as an outpouring of adrenaline and fear, but now she sensed his longing ran much, much deeper.
Tentatively, she reached up and touched a streak of soot on his cheek, wiping it away with her wet fingers. He'd put himself in danger by rescuing her from the fire, when it was her job to protect him. A tender ache wove through her.
"You could have died for me," she whispered thickly, her fingers playing over his stubbled jaw.
Catching her wrist, he dragged her hand to his mouth. He placed a kiss in her palm, then nipped at the flesh just below her thumb. "I would have, if it meant saving you." His voice vibrated with emotion.
The love in his gaze was unmistakable, echoing her own feelings for him. In that moment she knew she'd take whatever he would give her. Tonight she didn't want to think… she wanted to feel everything J.T. had to offer.
Curling her hand around the back of his head, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him without restraint. Water sluiced over them and she pressed her body to his, sliding her slick, naked breasts against his chest.
He growled deep in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her closer, returning the deep, tongue-tangling kiss with fervor.
And then it wasn't enough for Caitlan. She trembled. She ached. She burned for his touch. Her medallion tingled hot against her skin, but she ignored the radiant sensation for the excitement surging the length of her body.
His lips left hers and trailed down the side of her throat to her collarbone, his tongue lapping the water from her skin. When the wet heat of his mouth closed over a turgid nipple, suckling her deeply, her need mounted. He paid homage to both breasts, then nipped his way lower, exploring with mouth and tongue and the light graze of his teeth every sensitive hollow and curve. By the time he found his way back up, he was as soaked as she. He wiped the water from his face, his gaze so passionately intense she shivered.
"J.T., please," she whimpered, plowing her fingers through his wet hair. She strained into him, yearning for the ultimate union with him, the wonderful ecstasy of being a complete part of him.
"Not here," he rasped, then groaned when she curled a leg around his hip, trapping his thick arousal between their bodies. "Oh, God, Caitlan. I want you in my bed."
Caitlan didn't think she could wait that long.
Two minutes later, their bodies still damp from the quick rubdown he'd given them, J.T. laid her on the soft quilt covering his bed. Leaving the nightstand light on low, he slid on top of her, bracing himself above her on his elbows. Her legs parted eagerly for him, but he didn't take possession of her.
The friction of his hard, muscular body pressing into her soft contours aroused her. The gleam in his eyes blazed savagely and his heart pounded fiercely beneath the hand she'd planted on his chest. Heaven help her, she wanted him like this, wild and primitive and hungry for her.
"I love you, Caitlan," he said, the words sounding rusty and unused. "I love you." Before she could respond his mouth swooped down on hers, open, hot, and wet, ruthless in its demands, a kiss meant to claim. The tip of his arousal touched silky warmth, teasing and tormenting her with the promise of being filled.
He tore his mouth from hers with a low groan. His gaze grew dark and smoky, his breathing harsh. "You're mine, Caitlan," he said, staking the same claim he had in the barn. "Say it," he demanded huskily.
She thrilled to the truth burning in his eyes, the same truth that seared her heart and made her wholly his. Her medallion danced like fire between her breasts, but not hot enough to dissuade her from following her heart. "I'm yours," she said, hooking her legs around his thighs, luring him toward the promise of ecstasy. "Take me."
Caitlan cried out as he drove into her, her body so primed that she accepted him in one silken stroke. He came down on her with an anguished moan, crushing his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His hips moved rhythmically against hers, long, fluid thrusts that escalated into something far more powerful and compelling.