“So eager, aren’t you, my love?” he crooned and removed his clothing.
He wanted to hear her, but he knew from experience that her screeching was a pitch higher than it should have been, and it ruined the mood. So he left the gag on.
He leaned closer. “I’m here, and it’s time.” A soft stroke over her hair, a bit coarser than the feel of Lara’s earlier, when she’d raced past him in the dark. “Soon, Cecilia. Soon we’ll be together again. But for tonight, a small sample of our pleasure, hmm?”
She danced for his whip, but when he brought out the knife, the fun really started.
Chapter Three
Lara didn’t see Noah at all for the next three days. She disliked the fact that she’d looked for him and chalked up her interest to wanting more explanations than she’d been given.
She’d done her research. Noah First existed. He had family in Maryland, if they were the same Firsts she’d tracked through the Internet. His driver’s license was legitimate. Of course, getting that news had meant trading favors with Mike Buckman, the pushy deputy who thought himself God’s gift to women. Not that Shelly seemed to complain.
The inn’s cleaning woman and sometime cook, Shelly currently sat with Mike at one of the dining tables. Most of the guests were eating dinner in town at this hour. Since the inn served evening coffee every other night, Lara had the opportunity to simply relax.
“Free coffee and treats for a whole month, hmm?” Shelly batted her eyes and flirted with the deputy.
A vain but pleasant enough girl who had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, Shelly seemed stuck in limbo, wanting to leave town but with nowhere to go. At twenty-two, pretty but with no prospects on the horizon, she seemed as likely to get knocked up as she was to get fired if she didn’t soon change her attitude. More than one rumor had alluded Shelly did her best work flat on her back. She apparently had her sights set on the large man in charge of the law.
“Yep. Lara promised to make homemade doughnuts too.” Mike bit into a cookie Shelly had earlier sneaked him and hummed his approval. “Law appreciation month.” He winked at Lara. “Lucky me, surrounded by the prettiest women in town.”
Shelly quivered like an eager puppy, and Lara turned away in disgust. She admitted she had a thing for a man taking charge, but acting like a doormat annoyed her. Shelly had a tendency to say yes to everything with a penis.
Amused at the thought, she turned around to leave and accidentally ran into Noah.
“Whoa.” He steadied her, and she worked hard to ignore the heat that flared to life between her legs.
Just from his touch. God, she needed to get laid. Maybe Frank was right. Life without sex could, in fact, lead to brain damage.
“Enjoying your stay?” She mustered a pleasant face and smiled. A solid presence from behind boxed her in between walls of muscle at her front and back.
“You staying at the inn?” Mike asked, his deep, authoritative voice in cop mode.
“Yeah, I am.” Noah didn’t offer any more than that.
Lara could practically smell the testosterone, making it hard to breathe. “Um, guys? Excuse me.”
Noah wouldn’t move, but he did at least break eye contact with Mike. “Lara, we need to talk.”
Curious, she nodded. He didn’t sound annoyed; he sounded…worried.
“Sheriff, want more cookies?” Shelly asked from behind them, holding a tray.
Mike ignored her, and Lara turned around to look him in the eye. As usual, interest and suspicion lingered in his gaze. If she’d been a less honest person, she would have been alarmed. But Lara had nothing to fear other than being bullied into a date, and she had no intention of succumbing to Mike’s questionable charm.
Mike frowned. “Lara, you okay?”
She realized Noah’s hand rested on her shoulder. Proprietary-like. The way a man oughta be.
His fingers tightened over her, and she swallowed hard. “Fine, Mike. I’ll leave you in Shelly’s capable hands.” She turned and nodded to Noah. “We can use my office.”
“Lead the way.” He laced his words with seduction, and she knew without looking that Mike’s gaze had narrowed on them both.
Once in her office, she closed the door to give them privacy. The small area had once been a larder, until she’d convinced Ida to remodel for some much needed administrative space. The older woman had furnished the room with a handsome Queen Anne desk, chair, and filing cabinets, as well as a narrow preacher’s bench that sat against the wall. Pretty but functional.
Noah didn’t sit. Instead he loomed over her when she sat behind her desk. “Did you research the painting?”
“Yes.” Frank had verified that Emilio Vala was a real person. Mention of a missing painting had turned up online, yet no picture had been attached.
“So?”
“So what?” Lara tapped her fingers on her desk in a jarring rhythm. “You aren’t lying about the painting.”
“No, I’m not. I’m also not lying about my name or why I need it back.” He sighed. “This should have been a simple job. I should be home right now instead of arguing with a mule-headed woman.”
An archaic insult, and one she didn’t intend to let pass.
“Mule-headed? Look who’s talking. Ever since you arrived, you’ve been acting like you own the place.” Even though she knew her reaction made no sense, she felt a sudden rush of challenge. Lara stood and rounded the desk, alien anger filling her as she poked him in the chest. “You arrogant ass. You think you can stroll into my place like you own it, make demands? Hell no. I don’t care how handsome you are, or how deadly.”
Everything fogged. Reality blended with a vision of cowboys and scantily clad women strolling around the establishment. Lara felt the remembrance even as she heard Noah calling her name.
“Darlin’, you’re just beggin’ to feel the bite of my belt.” The big man stepped closer. “And the kiss of my cock,” he growled before plastering his mouth to hers.
She lost herself in his taste. An echo of peppermint flavored his kiss, her favorite treat. Fury penetrated her mouth with his tongue, taking charge and not apologizing for it. He yanked her against his chest between one heartbeat and the next.
“Touch me,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
The sane part of her struggled to emerge, to protest. But the touch of the outlaw roused in her a combination of rage and desire.
She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his muscular arms. So strong, so powerful. He caged her, his fingers tightening over her hips while she dragged her hands down his broad chest to his firm belly.
“Lower. Do it.” His low drawl excited her, demanding obeisance. Then he was kissing her again, mastering her responses, and she followed his direction without a second thought. She pressed her palms against the flat of his trousers, measuring the thick length of his erection through the material. So big, and all hers for the night.
“Sugar, I’m right here,” she purred. “Waitin’ for it.” So wicked, taking this outlaw for her own. Oh, Fury liked to play it rough, but he was clay in her hands when she molded him just so.
She tightened her fingers over him, and he groaned. His lips trailed from her mouth to her neck, where he sucked hard. His hands rose to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples through the thin silk of her clothing. She was aching. Throbbing. The resultant desire traveled like lightning to her clit, and she had to have more.
She unbuttoned his trousers. He rocked back on his heels, and she shifted his cock so that it lay flush against his body. The tip of his cockhead poked past the gap in his pants, wet with arousal. With need for her.