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Carter tugged Allie closer, cradling her head against his shoulder. She didn’t wake and her deep breathing remained unchanged, reinforcing the wisdom of his decision. She needed sleep far more than he needed sex. And if holding her was what she wanted, that’s what he would give her. There’d be plenty of time for more later. Hopefully.
He stared over her head, scanning the shadows of the river, the shoreline so dark it was hard to see where the water separated from the land. No way would Dwight risk traveling at night when it would be impossible to see their trail. He might not even be following. Maybe he’d cut his losses and run.
On the other hand, the man was desperate. He hadn’t killed his wife so that he could hide in a third-world country. Worse, he knew Carter was unarmed; Man Tracker rules were posted and public. He probably considered Carter more of an inconvenience than a threat. No doubt, Dwight would try to take him out first, then Allie. And Dwight had a hatchet.
Carter glanced down at the sleeping woman tucked against his chest. Allie depended on him, and while he knew some guys who were skilled at hand-to-hand combat, he wasn’t one of them. He’d certainly never had to fight for a woman before, and definitely not for her life.
He’d been a teen when he started competing at rodeos. But he’d been big for his age and sex had been plentiful—generally with tough, more experienced ladies happy to teach him the ropes. Still, speed had been of the essence and no one cared to linger. Just as the rodeo moved on, so had his sexual partners.
But as he grew older and his bank account swelled, he was viewed as a more eligible prospect. Ladies turned clingy, especially the groupies. It was easier to turn down the offers, certainly wiser. Although as someone who’d developed a healthy appreciation for sex, the constant restraint left him edgy.
Jenica had empathized. She was a model and former rodeo queen who also had to fend off suitors. It had been convenient to hook up. Their relationship would be monogamous but temporary—at least that’s what they’d agreed. Turned out she had wanted much more, and her beautiful exterior hid a truly nasty core. Five of his horses had paid the price.
He needed to do a better job of protecting Allie than he had his horses. The first step was not to underestimate Dwight. He had to assume the man was coming.
Downriver, a coyote howled then was joined by several others, the haunting chorus comforting. He let himself be distracted by their yipping, trying to decide if there were two coyotes or a larger family. Sometimes it was hard to tell.
“Are they close?” Allie whispered.
He glanced down and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “About a half mile away. They won’t bother us.”
She didn’t seem afraid or even annoyed that they’d woken her. Only curious. “Sounds like a family of four,” she said. “Parents and two pups.”
“What makes you think that?”
“In the off season the ranch holds a variety of conferences, including wildlife seminars. Sharon always asks me to host them.”
“So that’s how you did it,” he said. “That’s how you lasted so long.”
“Guess I picked up bits of information over the years. It all helped.”
“I thought Janet was the leader,” he said slowly. “So did Monty. I misjudged you, in every way.”
“Does that mean you’ll sit beside me in the dining hall now?” Her tone was light but he picked up on her hurt. And it bothered him that he’d been so unobservant, so quick to judge, always assuming her smile was too beautiful to be real.
“You never had any room beside you.” He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “But yes, I intend to fill your dance card if you’ll let me.”
“You can dance?” The incredulity in her voice was both sweet and deflating.
“My dancing boots are a little dusty but I can manage.” He thought it prudent not to admit that dancing had been a time-efficient way to meet women. One drink, three dances, then out the door to the back of his horse trailer. “I can polka, line dance and do a mean eight-step,” he said, smiling at the idea of whirling her around the floor.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “That is so sexy.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. A little kiss that started out sweet and unexpected, but then his mouth locked over hers, their tongues mating, and when he lifted his head he was rock hard with longing.
“When we get back,” he said, pressing his mouth against her forehead, “let’s see if we can take some time off.”
“You mean sneak off to a motel somewhere?”
There it was again, the flippant tone she used to hide her hurt. But she’d probably had that suggestion made hundreds of times before. In fact, she probably had guests keen to jet her off to exotic locales every day of the week. And while he had some savings, he couldn’t compete with the trust-fund types who flew in by private helicopter. However, if exotic vacations were what she wanted, she wouldn’t be working at the Mustang River Ranch.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
“Not sure if I can afford a hotel,” he said, downplaying his wealth. “And I’m not much into sneaking. You can play it any way you want with Sharon, but I don’t intend to hide my feelings.”
“Okay,” she said, but there was happiness in that little word and none of her earlier flippancy.
“It doesn’t matter where we go,” he said, thinking of a rodeo. “Or what we do. As long as we go somewhere.”
“Maybe we could go to a dance competition,” she said. “Or the Two-Day Line Dance or even the World Championship Dance-Off.”
“Sure.” He gulped. “If that’s what you want.”
He felt her shoulders quiver and glanced down. She was silently giggling and it was obvious she’d been teasing.
“Is there really a World Championship Dance-Off?” he asked, shaking his head in amusement.
“Not that I know of.” She was openly laughing now. “But it’s not something I’d ever want to attend. I like to dance but I’m not much into watching.”
“Thank God,” he said, barely realizing he was cupping her breast, stroking it possessively. And that she was arching into his touch.
“You realize Sharon doesn’t like employees dating?” Allie said.
“I don’t care what she likes.” He sighed with approval as he cupped and stroked and explored her nipple, and all the beautiful areas around it. “You have such a beautiful breast,” he whispered.
“Two of them,” she said.
He didn’t need any further invitation. “We don’t have time for this,” he said, even as he pushed aside her shirt and lowered his head.
“It must be at least half an hour before sunrise,” she said.
“But I’ll want more time with you. It’s not going to be enough.”
She reached down and touched him. “You seem pretty ready to me.”
Just the feel of her hand was amazingly erotic. “But I don’t want it—you—like that.” Not like all the hasty and forgettable fumbles of zippers in the back of a stall, behind the portable pens, or against the tailgate of his pickup truck. Nor did he want it as it had ended with Jenica, in the dark when he didn’t have to see her face. But this didn’t feel like that all.
The moonlight showcased Allie’s breasts, and it wasn’t just his cock standing at attention now, his entire body was taut with longing. She met his gaze head-on, trusting, looking at him in a way that made him feel invincible. And perhaps there was an element of that. Maybe she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t leave her in the morning and hike out for help, even if that were the best solution.
He cupped her face. “I want you bad,” he whispered, “but we don’t have to do this now. I’m not going to leave you alone. You know that, right?”
She gave him a luminous smile. “I know,” she said. “And I’m not going to leave you either.”
He’d been talking about the next twenty-four hours and she was maybe talking about something different. But holy hell, his heart was thumping, her words acting like the most powerful aphrodisiac.
Growling, he reared back, pushed her thighs wider, and entered her quickly, desperately, forgetting everything he’d learned about meticulous foreplay. It didn’t matter though, she was wet and ready and he groaned in pleasure. And he knew he should work her clit, fondle her nipple, do something so she wouldn’t think him a selfish lover. But his mind had quit working, taken over by pure desire, and he could only feel her tight walls quivering around him, their joining so complete it was hard to tell where she ended and he began.
When he heard her gasp, felt her convulsions, his control shattered and all he could do was join her in a ground-rocking climax.
“Holy hell,” he muttered. He rolled onto his side, not sure if it was seconds or minutes later when he realized he was probably squashing her. He pulled her to his side, still breathless. “Hell,” he muttered again, almost embarrassed to look at her.
“Heaven,” she whispered. Then she sighed with contentment.
He glanced down, feeling somewhat better. Her eyes were closed and she wore a beautiful smile. He knew enough about women to be able to spot a real and faked orgasm, and clearly she’d had one. But there was no way hers had been as intense as his. No way. His heart was still pounding as if he’d run a marathon, or actually more of a sprint.
“I was a little quick,” he muttered.
“Nobody times it,” she said.
But they did. He’d heard the women giggling about shotgun cowboys and had resolved never to earn that moniker. Allie’s voice was definitely drowsy though, sated and content. He most certainly was.
He slid his hand along the silky skin of her back, keeping her close. It was tempting to let her sleep, even to drift off beside her, but the sun would be up soon and they needed to be ready.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. “I have some horse bandages. Any spots we should wrap before we head out?”
“Hardly romantic pillow talk,” she mumbled. Her eyes remained shut and it was obvious she was already half asleep.
He leaned in and brushed her face with a kiss, careful to avoid the scratches on her cheek. “Once we lose Dwight,” he said, “I’ll give you all the pillow talk you need, and anything else you want.”
“Like a tent and food and coffee?”
“That’s a promise. But if we catch up to Monty, you can have the coffee today.”
Her eyes cracked open. “He has coffee?”
“Lots.”
“Maybe we should get going then,” she said, just as he’d hoped.
She propped herself up but he felt her wince and saw her touch her shoulder. Clearly a postcoital high wasn’t enough of a painkiller. And though he hated to see her hurting, it was good to take stock, to figure out her condition so he could assess how fast they could move.
“Let me see that,” he said. Her shirt was already unbuttoned, and he eased it down, panning his flashlight over the shoulder joint while gently exploring with his other hand. “I assume this happened escaping the moose,” he said, hiding his dismay at the vivid bruising. She’d told him about hanging onto a tree branch but she looked as banged up as any bull rider.
“The ligaments are stretched so it’s going to hurt,” he added, dragging his gaze off the shades of purple and black. “But it seems okay.” He readjusted her bra—realized he was lingering over her breasts longer than warranted—and firmly buttoned her shirt.
“Any other spots?” he asked. “Knees, ankles good?” He shone his light over her bare legs, determined to remain objective. But they had always caught his eye, even wrapped in jeans, and now they were in front of him, toned and slim and shapely. Her feet were sexy too, with cute toenails painted in varying shades of red. Then he jerked forward, cursing in dismay.
That wasn’t nail polish. It was blood.
