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Peyton watched through the living room window as Detective Jorgenson drove down the long driveway leading to the Crown Ranch. The woman was probably already stretched thin enough with all the regular shenanigans that surrounded the horse farms during the lead up to the Kentucky Derby; she didn't need this added to her plate as well.
She heard Storm open the front door, so she hightailed it over there to meet with the detective as well. Though the warm spring sun beamed brightly, the breeze was cool. Her light flannel shirt should have been sufficient to keep her warm, yet a shiver ran through her. Maybe it was her nerves. They were shot, had been since she, Spencer, Brittiany, and Storm returned from their ride two hours ago to find her horse had been poisoned to send a message to her. She joined Storm on the porch; his long sleeves rolled up past his forearms. His glorious corded forearms. Even with the slightest movement, those cords rippled in response.
She willed those arms around her just like they'd been when they were in the barn earlier in the day; when her life had crumbled around her—again. The security she found in them was second to none. Her father and brother had left her in the best care possible. He'd held her tight until her tears dried. Then slowly inched away. His dark gaze had held her for what felt like an eternity—a pleasant eternity. The concentration of his stare had been soul-reaching. When his large, calloused hands had cupped her flaming cheeks, she was sure he was going to lean in and kiss her, and more than anything, she had wanted him to; but, he didn't. The internal debate in his eyes had been unmistakable. Peyton knew he had wanted to kiss her, but he'd held back. Why? Was it because he saw her as weak and needy and didn't care for that in a woman? Was it possible he'd completely read and was reacting to her insecurities? Were they shining that brightly? Could he see her reservations about relationships—men? Or, was it the demons that haunted him that held him back? From the way he'd looked at her moments ago, and the way he'd held her earlier, she'd bet it had more to do with his personal troubles.
Now, the tension in the poor man's face as he stared at Jorgenson's squad was not what he needed at present. Not when he was trying desperately to overcome the anxieties that plagued him since leaving the Army. Her heart broke. This was her fault. When would the effects of this stupid, horrendous mistake of a marriage ever go away? Peyton looked to the heavens. How long must she be punished before it was enough?
Detective Jorgenson parked her vehicle.
Storm stepped off the porch. "Good afternoon, Detective."
"Hi, Storm." The woman looked to be almost a foot shorter than Storm, but from stories Peyton had heard, she wasn't one to be messed with. Jorgenson's empathetic blue-eyed gaze landed on Peyton as she stepped up beside Storm. "Hi, Peyton."
Peyton mustered a smile. "Good afternoon. Thank you for getting out here so quickly. I know you're busy."
The woman nodded. "So, you guys think you know who did it?"
"Yeah, I think it might have been one of the newer ranch hands. Charlie Elliot. An older guy in his early sixties. We hired him about a month ago, and he passed our background checks," Storm said.
"And now he's gone?"
"Yes. We checked his room in the staff quarters. He's gone, his stuff is gone, and nobody's seen him since early this morning."
"What does he drive?"
"A green Subaru. Mid 2000's model maybe."
Jorgenson nodded. "So, what makes you think it was him?"
"He was in charge of filling the water tanks and feeding all the horses except the race horses. We have video of him going in and out of Diamond's stall just as he'd done with the others; but daily, for the past nine days, he entered her stall at least one extra time each day, and sometimes twice."
The detective's brows knit. "So, you didn't actually see him poison the water?"
"Well no, we don't have surveillance in Diamond's stall, just the corridor. But it's odd he went in her stall more times than usual. These hands have a job to do, and they need to move along," Storm replied.
"Plus, now he's disappeared with all his stuff. It's not like he said he quit or anything. He just left," Peyton chimed in.
"That part does seem odd. Let me see the video. How many days does it go back?"
"We keep all the files for a hundred twenty days, some longer if we have reason to think we'll need it someday."
They all stared at the screen. At least now Detective Jorgenson knew what the man looked like, but sadly, the video did not show Charlie poisoning Diamond's water.
Detective Jorgenson looked at Peyton with empathy. "I'm sorry, but there isn't anything on the video I can use. I agree the situation with Charlie is odd and I will try to track him down and talk with him."
Peyton nodded. At least the detective was open to the idea that Charlie may be the culprit and she was willing to investigate this matter further.
"Storm, send over the particulars on Mr. Elliott so I can check him out and a copy of the video as well."
"You got it."
"I'd like to see Diamond's stall and Charlie's room. Then I want to interview the other ranch hands. Oh, and I'd like to talk to Dr. Cullen. Is he still here?"
"No, he left a while ago."
"I'll stop by his office later then."
Detective Jorgenson milled around Charlie's room. Other than the standard bed, dresser, and desk, it was empty. As for Diamond's stall, it looked like it always did and the same as the other stalls.
A couple of hours later Detective Jorgenson climbed into her car and left. She let them know that through her interviews, Charlie seemed like the prime culprit.
Peyton took a seat on one of the oversized leather couches in the living room, curling her legs under her. She sipped her tea as she stared at the blank television screen.
The clunk of Storm's boot heels closing in behind her snapped her out of her trance.
He sat on a chair to the side of the couch, raked his hand over his face, and then cleared his throat. "How are you doing, Peyton? You doing okay?"
The concern in his gaze let her know he really cared. "I guess. I just don’t understand why anyone—Charlie—would do this."
"If I had to guess, someone paid him to do it. Probably got a big fat check."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "From my ex-husband."
Storm nodded. "Possibly, but we don't know that for sure."
"Sadly, it's probably true."
A tear slid down her cheek.
In an instant, Storm was on the couch pulling her into the security of his embrace.
It nearly killed her when he loosened his arms. She wasn't ready for him to let go yet, but at least he stayed close enough. She could still bask in the comfort and warmth of his rich, woody scent.
His large, strong hands cupped her head, and he used his thumbs to swipe the remaining moisture from her cheeks. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I know you'd probably rather your dad and brother be here with you right now; but know this, I would die before I let anything happen to you. Still, I'm sorry you're stuck here with me."
Without a doubt, Peyton knew Storm would lay his life on the line for her. He'd already proved his constancy in the past for her brother. Whether he knew that her brother had told her the story, she wasn't sure. This man's loyalty was second to none.
"I'm not sorry. You're exactly who I want to be with right now. My brother has every bit of faith in you, as do I. I could not be in better hands."
The man's magnetic gaze darkened. Her heart rate ratcheted up. She wanted—no, needed—his lips on hers. She leaned closer to him.
* * * *
Storm stared into the depths of Peyton's troubled irises. What he'd give to take her worries away. His failed attempts to take his hands off her and pull his gaze from hers had him not wanting to try any longer, but he knew for her own good he'd better. She had enough problems already; she didn't deserve any more. The last thing she needed was a broken man, one who couldn't seem to wrap his brain around his own problems.
The compliment she'd just fed him was the nicest he'd ever received and nearly tore down his resistance. His deceiving lips tingled and begged him to crush down on hers.
His phone buzzed. Storm sprang to his feet. Coach's face flashed on the screen.
The entire time he filled Coach in on Detective Jorgenson's visit, Peyton's wanting gaze was on him. If she didn't turn it off, he'd surely cave, and that couldn't happen. Like himself, Coach was not a man of many words, but Storm did everything he could to keep his friend on the phone for as long as possible to give himself time to think about how he was going to let Peyton down again without her hating him. The truth of it was it didn't matter how long he spoke with Coach, he'd end up hurting Peyton's feelings whether he caved to his need for her or not.
He disconnected the call.
Her yearning gaze was near impossible to refuse. He swallowed hard. "Your brother has a few people he needs me to run checks on. You don't need to go anywhere tonight, do you?"
Peyton rose from the couch and stepped toward him.
He stepped back.
Her eyes watered and her lips quivered. Her gaze landed on the floor. Back to no eye contact.
Storm pressed his hand against his chest in an effort to stop the slicing pain shooting through his heart.
She cleared her throat. "No, I'm in for the night."
"Okay. I'll be in the office if you need me."
She nodded, grabbed her tea mug off the end table, and hurried out of the room. A few moments later he heard her climb the steps. Then her bedroom door shut a bit louder than normal. Nice work, Storm.
It was just before midnight when Storm logged off the computer. Before heading up to bed, he checked to see that the security system was working properly. All was fine there.
As his tired, sluggish feet carried him up the stairs, part of him hoped Peyton was sleeping. Another part of him rationalized that if her light was on, he was going to take that as a sign he should slip into her room. Both disappointment and relief sifted through him when no light shined beneath the door.
He tiptoed past her room and slipped into his. But, sleep didn't come. Instead of the usual demons, it was thoughts of Peyton in the next room that had him tossing and turning. The remembrance of his rejections of her had him slamming his fist into his pillow.
Maybe if he worked off a little steam, he'd be able to rest. There was still time for a workout and possibly a few hours of sleep before Peyton woke. He'd need to be alert, especially when she was awake, in case she wanted to leave the house. Leaving his sight now was not an option. At least now he knew she probably wouldn’t give him any grief when he tagged along with her.
After pulling on a pair of athletic shorts, Storm stepped lightly through the hall. He paused outside her door and listened. Her whimper stabbed at his heart. At her sniffle, he raised his arm to knock but froze in place. If he knocked and she opened that door for him he'd cave to his desire if she'd let him, or would she still be pissed at him for rejecting her and turn him away? Perhaps there was a chance she wouldn't even open the door for him.
He lowered his hand and weighed his options. Could he do this? Was he ready? Peyton was a lovely woman who deserved a man who could be there for her all the time, and he just wasn't sure he could be that person right now. He wanted to be. But good God, some days it was difficult for him to muster enough strength just to get through the day, and getting through it functioning as a normal person was even more challenging.
The door flew open.
"How long are you going to stand there and what do you want?" Peyton's ice-cold tone froze the blood in his veins.
Peyton stared up at him with those big, dark eyes. Even in the dimly lit hall, it was easy to see the whites of her eyes were stained red from crying. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, comfort her, and make all her problems disappear. But the hands perched on her hips and her tapping foot kept him at bay.
She arched a brow. "Well?"
"I just...I heard you..." He hesitated to collect his thoughts. He sounded like a bumbling idiot and didn't want to make it worse. "I thought I heard you crying and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"So then, why didn't you? Why did you just keep standing outside my door?"
Evidently, she wasn’t going to cut him a break.
Her foot tapped harder.
"Why?"
Storm lowered his lids and stared at the floor. "It's complicated. You deserve someone who can...who will..." He paused and returned his gaze to hers. He needed to look her in the eye when he told her so that she'd understand he meant it when he told her he was no good for her. But, when he met her gaze it was full of compassion, not the fury from moments ago. The lump in his throat was too big to speak around.
Peyton reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. "You're a good man, Mason Starr. You're kind, caring, and loyal. There's not enough time in the world for me to describe all the good qualities you possess."
His heart hammered in his chest. The conviction in her eyes and her tone gave him no doubt she really believed he had the qualities she mentioned, but the sound of his real name rolling off her tongue is what did him in.
His arms flew around her, and his lips crushed down on hers. The passion she met him with was equally as strong, wicked, unbelievable. He pulled her body tight to his. The curves of her soft breasts pressed against him. She parted her lips, inviting him in. Her flavor seeped into him, amplifying the whirlwind of sensations already ripping through every cell in his body.
Their tongues tangled. Her hands slid over his bare arms, leaving a burning path in their wake. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer. His fingers found the hem of her short nightgown and slid up underneath it until both hands filled with the soft curves of her ass. He lifted her, and her feet left the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Good God, why had he waited so long to kiss her—hold her? Every nerve ending in his body was on fire, and it felt phenomenal.
He stepped over to the bed and sat with her on his lap. Her sex pressed to his erection. When she lifted her arms, he pulled her nightgown over her head. The plump, round breasts in front of him called out to his mouth. His mouth clamped onto her breast, and when his tongue flicked over her beaded, raspberry nipple, she groaned and wound her fingers through his hair, pulling his head tightly to her breast. As he suckled on that delicacy, he filled his hand with her other breast and kneaded. She ground herself against him.
He pulled his mouth from her breast and fastened it to the other, then he wrapped an arm around her waist and lowered his other hand, slipping it under the band of her silky panties to cup her wet mound. Her scent filled the room, tantalizing his nostrils, heightening his desire—need. When he slipped a finger into her moist channel, her breath hitched. The insertion of his second finger caused her to moan delightfully into the thick air. He wanted to hear that sexy, erotic sound again; and he would, several times before this night was over.
Peyton's hands dug into his shoulders as he moved his fingers inside her and circled her swollen clit with his thumb. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she ground against his hand. Her breaths came quicker with each flick of her nub of nerves. Then a little louder. Her lids fluttered open. The dark gaze staring at him was filled with desire.
He circled that little peak once more then pressed on it, and she exploded. The walls of her channel clamped down on his fingers, and her alluring cries of pleasure echoed in the air.
She floated forward, wrapping her arms around him. Her tiny, limp body relaxed into him. Her warm breath blew across the side of his neck. He pulled his fingers from her and enveloped her in his arms. The beating of her heart thudded against him. He wondered if she could feel his as well.
"Peyton."
"Hmm?" she responded as she burrowed in tighter. "I just need a minute."
He'd give her a minute to recover, but he was by no means done with her yet. He kissed the top of her head. After a moment, she edged back. The dreamy dark gaze that connected with his looked completely satisfied. Though her swollen red lips looked thoroughly kissed, he needed his lips back on hers. Leaning in, he took her mouth, working to keep it slow, seductive, meaningful.
She met him with that same pace as her hands moved slowly over his chest and stomach. Touching him, teasing him, seducing him. No aphrodisiac was needed with this woman's touch—her mouth—he couldn't possibly desire her any more. He wanted in her. His aching dick wanted in her.
"Do you have any condoms?"
Peyton leaned back. "No. You don't?" The disappointment in her tone nearly made him smile.
Storm slowly shook his head. Dammit. He hadn't expected to let things get this far. In fact, he hadn't intended to let things get anywhere.
"Coach might," she whispered huskily.
That had crossed his mind as well. Storm placed his hands on Peyton's hips, lifted her off his lap, and set her on the bed.
"I'll be right back."
Storm darted into Coach's room and made a beeline for his nightstand. Thank you, Coach. He grabbed a couple of condoms from the box and hurried back to the sexy woman waiting for him. He slipped back into Peyton's room to find she'd tossed back the blankets and was sprawled out over the sheet.
Long, dark strands of hair fanned out over her pillow. Her firm, round breasts called out to him. He'd answer their call in a moment. His gaze drifted along her body, soaking up the beautiful specimen of a woman lying before him, waiting to be taken by him. One arm lay at her side and the other across her flat stomach. The dark curls between her legs—the gateway to heaven—sent his already throbbing dick to aching even more. Long, slim legs stretched out over the bed. He needed to be between them.
When he returned his gaze to her face, he caught her eyeing the foil packages in his hand. She ran her tongue over her puffy lips. Her wanting eyes captured his, and he could wait no longer. In one swift movement, his shorts were off; in another, the condom was on, and he was on the bed beside her.
Their mouths met in a searing kiss. She gripped his shoulders and tugged him onto her. He dove between her legs into her tight, hot channel. Then he hooked an arm under her knee for better access. Her heat surrounded him. His heart pounded in his chest. Blood rushed his veins. It had been a long time since he'd touched a woman; and this particular woman, who he'd longed for since he walked through the Crown family door a year ago, pushed all the right buttons.
Peyton met his every thrust. Her hands skimmed over his sides, not stopping until they grabbed hold of his ass. She squeezed, arched, and then threw her head back as groans of pleasure poured out of her mouth. The walls of her hot, moist channel clamped down on him, catapulting him into a whirlwind of unrestrained sensations. His body tensed, then jerked, then exploded.
He collapsed onto Peyton and rested his head to the side of hers, his nose buried in her lavender-scented, silky strands of hair. His pulse pounded as he floated down from his blissful, orgasmic high.
The next thing he knew, sunlight poked through the window blinds warming his face. Sun? He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept until sunup, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so refreshed when he woke up. It couldn't have anything to do with the beautiful, loving woman wrapped in his arms. Could it?