When the final aftershocks shimmered throughout her entire body, she sank back against him. His tongue sank deeper into her mouth, devouring her. When he dragged his fingers from her core, she cried out. Releasing her lips, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, dragging air into his lungs. She could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the frantic pounding of his heart.
Exhausted and drained, yet totally content, she relaxed. His arms tightened around her. “That was just the beginning.” She shivered at the sensual promise in his voice.
Her toes curled as he stood with her still clasped tight in his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her in the center. She almost cried out in protest when he pulled away, but he didn’t go anywhere. Instead, he stood there watching her.
She was totally naked, but she wasn’t embarrassed or uncomfortable. She felt absolutely wonderful. His eyes narrowed as she stretched sensually, letting her arms and legs slide over the dark green comforter. “Mmm, I feel good.”
“You’re going to feel even better,” he promised. His hands went to the front of his jeans and slid the button open. The rasp of the zipper was loud above the sound of their breathing.
“Come here.” She held her hand out to him and he reached for it. Their fingers almost touching.
An explosion rattled the glass in the window.
“What the hell?” Jackson raced to the window and swore. His hands were fastening his pants as he snatched up the rifle and hurried back to the bed.
She’d grasped the comforter, draping it around her. Fear wrapped around her heart. “What is it?”
“The old barn.”
He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial. “Nathan. He’s hit the barn. Send the fire department. Hurry.” He hung up and placed the phone in her hands, wrapping her fingers around it. “If anything else happens, call Nathan. He’s got a man watching the road to the farm. They should both be here in a few minutes.” He strode to the door.
“Wait.” She jumped off the bed and ran to him. “Don’t go out there.”
He cupped the back of her head in his big hand. “I have to. He’s out there just waiting for a chance to get to you. Stay in here with the doors locked.”
“It’s a ploy to get you out of the house.”
“I know.” Leaning down, he dropped a hard kiss on her lips. “But I have to keep him from getting close to the house.” He turned and hurried down the stairs. She was hard on his heels.
The smell of fresh paint filled her nostrils, reminding her just how dangerous this stalker was. She should have left this afternoon. But it was too late for that now. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.
“I have to.” His face was grim as he unlocked the back door. “Lock this behind me and then go back upstairs and wait for Nathan.”
Opening the door a crack, he slid out and disappeared into the shadows. Emerald locked the door and raced back upstairs. If there was a chance she could do anything to help him, the last thing she wanted to be was naked. Ignoring the twinge in her back, she ran into the bedroom, dropped the comforter, grabbed her shorts and began to dress.
Chapter Eighteen
Jackson kept to the shadows as he moved stealthily toward the barn. He didn’t see much in the way of flames yet. Thankfully, he’d sent off the last load of alfalfa and hay a few days ago. There wasn’t much left in that barn, but the wood was old and dry and would go up like tinder. He didn’t even want to think about the orchards beyond. With the dry weather, the entire place could go up quickly.
He didn’t care.
If the place burned to the ground, he’d rebuild and replant. It was all replaceable. The only thing that mattered was keeping Emerald safe. The deputy would be at the house within seconds and he would keep her safe. As long as he was between her and the barn, her stalker would have to go through him to get her.
He stood in the shadow of an old oak tree just beyond the yard and watched. Nothing moved. He inched forward, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The rifle was solid in his hands. He’d never shot a man before, but he knew he’d do it without a moment’s hesitation to protect Emerald.
Sweat rolled down his back as he eased up to the open door of the shed. He could hear the crackle of fire as it began to eat at the structure. He needed to close the door. That would help cut off the supply of oxygen and slow the flames. At least he hoped it would.
Jackson slipped in the door, trying to see through the thick, black smoke and the dark of the night. He grabbed the edge of the door and began to pull. Something. A sound, a movement or just plain instinct told him he was no longer alone. He jerked at the last second, but he wasn’t fast enough. Something hard glanced off his head and hit his shoulder. He dropped to the dirt. The sound of a door closing seemed impossibly loud above the crackle and roar of the growing blaze.
The stalker was heading toward the house. Toward Emerald.
Cursing himself for falling prey to the stalker’s tricks, he shook off the pain in his head and pushed to his knees. The rifle was still in his hand and he slung it over his shoulder. It was incredibly hard to push himself to his feet, but he did it. Something slick ran into his eye and he brushed it away. His fingers came away sticky and he knew it was blood. Ignoring it, he staggered to the door and pulled. Jammed!
Turning, he faced the growing inferno behind him. There was no getting out through the back way. Lurching forward, he plunged through the blaze and dove into the tool room. The smoke made seeing impossible. Going totally by feel, he ran his hands over the wall until he found what he was searching for.
The handle was smooth and familiar and he gripped it tight with both hands. Three steps were all it took until he was facing an outside wall. Drawing it back over his shoulder, he threw every bit of his strength behind it as he struck forward. The axe bit into the dry wood, sending chips flying everywhere.
Emerald hauled on the rest of her clothing and then pulled on her shoes. Grabbing the cell phone, she shoved it in her back pocket as she pounded down the stairs. She needed a weapon.
Stumbling into the kitchen, she swore under her breath. With everything torn up, she didn’t know where to find anything. She didn’t dare turn on a light and give away her position to her stalker.
Worry for Jackson was eating at her. She loved him. There was no denying it any longer. And if they both lived through this, she was going to tell him. She was also angry with him for going out there alone to face her stalker. He should have stayed with her where she could keep an eye on him.
God, she was losing her mind. Making her way over to the kitchen drawer, she yanked the top one open and reached in. Sure enough, her fingers folded over the handle of a small paring knife. It wasn’t much, but she had no idea where to find the knife block that usually sat on the counter.
Closing the drawer, she went to the kitchen window and peered out. Where was Jackson? For that matter, where was the deputy? Biting her bottom lip, she debated going outside. The problem was that Jackson thought she was inside. There was always the possibility that he might shoot her by accident if she went out. She was well and truly stuck inside. Something else she was going to yell at him about when this was over.
Calm. She took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm. The sound of glass tinkling caught her ear. Her room downstairs. There was no time to run. He’d surely hear her. She eased back into the corner of the dark room and stayed very still. Footsteps grew louder. The roaring inside her head intensified until it deafened her. Where was Jackson? Had he been hurt? Her fingers tightened around the handle of the knife, which was down by her right thigh.