Running Wild Part 20

There were a few holds he showed her how to break, and if someone caught her from behind how to bend down, grab the guy's ankle, and jerk upward so the attacker landed on his a.s.s. The physical exercise was more demanding than she'd expected, and soon they were both sweating. At first she paid rapt attention through the demonstrations and practice repet.i.tions, but the physical reality of such tutoring was a lot of touching, of feeling Zeke's arms around her in his mock attacks, and the hard, muscled length of his body against her. The soft fabric of his pants didn't do anything to hide the thickening erection that pushed against her bottom, or her crotch, depending on the position of the move he was showing her.

Concentrating became harder and harder, right along with his p.e.n.i.s, and finally she stopped even trying. Leaning back against him, she gripped his thick wrists and closed her eyes. "I think I've lost my motivation."

"Is that so?" His tone was low and rough. His arms tightened around her, pulling her more snugly against him, and one big hand slid under the edge of her T-shirt to flatten on the smooth flesh of her stomach. He rested it there a moment, rubbing his fingertips lightly on her skin, then slicked his hand downward, sliding it under her loose waistband. His thumb circled her navel, then with two deliberate moves he had her pants sliding down her legs to pool around her knees. "Looks like your motivation isn't all you're losing."

He bent his head and his mouth moved slow and hot over the side of her neck, and just like that she was ready for him, her heartbeat thundering, her breath panting out fast and deep. She lifted one arm and curved it back, resting her hand on the back of his neck, feeling the heat pouring off his body, the hard pads of muscle even there. Her posture offered up her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he took them, covering them with his rough palms, catching her upright nipples between his fingers and gently, at first, pulling them even tighter. Then his fingers tightened and the pulling wasn't quite so gentle, and she didn't care. Hot p.r.i.c.kles of sensation speared from her nipples straight to her v.a.g.i.n.a, to her entire body. Every muscle in her tightened, clamping down, and she gave a hoa.r.s.e cry at her emptiness. pouring off his body, the hard pads of muscle even there. Her posture offered up her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he took them, covering them with his rough palms, catching her upright nipples between his fingers and gently, at first, pulling them even tighter. Then his fingers tightened and the pulling wasn't quite so gentle, and she didn't care. Hot p.r.i.c.kles of sensation speared from her nipples straight to her v.a.g.i.n.a, to her entire body. Every muscle in her tightened, clamping down, and she gave a hoa.r.s.e cry at her emptiness.

Either her cry was a signal or he'd zoomed from zero to a hundred the same way she had. Swiftly he turned her, clamped his hands on her waist, and boosted her over his shoulder. Dizzily she clung to him as he took the stairs up to his bedroom and deposited her on the bed. He stripped her pants and underwear the rest of the way off, tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. While he was doing that she was fighting his clothes, trying to get his shirt up and off, his pants down and off, or at least enough that she could get her hands on him.

He didn't give her a chance, sliding between her legs and reaching down between them to guide his p.e.n.i.s into place at her opening. Carlin took a deep breath and stilled, her eyes almost shut, holding herself ready for that hot, penetrating slide of flesh into her. It came, not slow as he sometimes did, but deep and a little rough. There it was, the magic of feeling him enter her, the stretching of her body around him, the heat and clinging and something else, something more more, something exciting and precious and terrifying.

And afterward, when she was limp from coming, when every muscle was shaking with fatigue and all she wanted to do was curl up in his arms and not move again until she had to get up and cook breakfast, she had to force herself to crawl out of his arms, out of the warm, tangled covers, and search for her clothes.

"Sleep here tonight," he said, the iron in his tone telling her he didn't like it one bit that she refused to spend the night with him, and that he wasn't getting resigned to sleeping alone.

"No, I can't," she said, though she could have cried from the depth of her longing to do just what he wanted. "It's too dangerous." Then she hurried out of the room before she began crying, and he realized she wasn't talking about the danger of some of the hands maybe seeing them together. She'd checked that the doors were locked so that wasn't going to happen. The real danger was to herself, and she was way, way too late to stop it.

THE DAYS TICKED past. All in all, Carlin felt ridiculously content. She was happy to stay indoors when it was so cold simply breathing was dangerous. Chili was simmering in the slow cooker, and the hot ham and cheese sandwiches that would accompany it wouldn't take any time at all to throw together. She'd thought about trying a recipe for chocolate cobbler, but decided to stick with something she knew would be a success: cookies. Zeke was a sucker for homemade chocolate chip cookies. past. All in all, Carlin felt ridiculously content. She was happy to stay indoors when it was so cold simply breathing was dangerous. Chili was simmering in the slow cooker, and the hot ham and cheese sandwiches that would accompany it wouldn't take any time at all to throw together. She'd thought about trying a recipe for chocolate cobbler, but decided to stick with something she knew would be a success: cookies. Zeke was a sucker for homemade chocolate chip cookies.

And she was a sucker for him. Now and then she tried to talk herself out of getting too deeply involved, but it was much too late for that. She was crazy about him. The s.e.x was great, but there was more. That human connection she'd been searching for, and had found, tied her to him in a way she hadn't expected.

And it was...nice.

Carlin heard the crackle of the radio from Zeke's office, where he'd been at work for a couple of hours. She couldn't tell what was being said, but it could be anything: cows being moved, a fence down, a truck or some other kind of equipment broken down. She'd even heard the question "What's for supper?" crackling over that two-way radio a time or twelve. the question "What's for supper?" crackling over that two-way radio a time or twelve.

Minutes later, Zeke all but ran though the kitchen, a rifle in his hand. She'd never seen him armed, beyond their shooting lessons, and immediately her heart jumped into her throat and stayed there.

She followed him into the mudroom. "What's wrong?"

He handed her the rifle, and she held it as he pulled on boots. "Wolves." He continued to prepare himself to leave, with a heavy coat, hat, and gloves.

Carlin swallowed before repeating his single, alarming word. "Wolves? Shouldn't you stay inside if there are wolves wolves out there?" out there?"

He smiled at her, leaned down, and planted a quick and familiar kiss on her mouth. "City girl," he said.

"Insane man!" she countered as he took the rifle from her. "Who goes out looking for wolves?"

"They killed a cow. We have to take care of this now." He glanced over his shoulder as he headed out the door. "Lock it behind me. Spencer and Walt are going with me, and there's no reason for anyone else to head this way before it's time for supper."

After he was gone, she flipped the deadbolt with a vengeance, and pursed her mouth as she watched Zeke cross the s.p.a.ce between the house and the bunkhouse in long, easy strides. Weren't there wolf exterminators in this part of the country? Why did Zeke have to be the one riding out looking for hairy, fanged predators? Walt could do it, or Spencer...no, Spencer would probably want to adopt any furry animals he ran across, even if they threatened to eat him alive. She stood there for a few minutes, worried about all three of them, before she returned to the kitchen. Zeke did it because he was the boss, because it was his land and his responsibility, and he took care of what was his.

Carlin wondered if they'd take an all-terrain vehicle or horses. She wondered what would happen if one of the men got thrown, if a wolf might spook one of the horses and cause an accident. In her mind she could see Zeke going toe to toe...well, toe to paw...with a wolf. In her mind, a series of things went wrong. The rifle didn't fire, the wolf leaped, claws and fangs flashing, and Zeke ended up on the ground, b.l.o.o.d.y and torn. What if there was more than one wolf that attacked? What if Spencer and Walt weren't fast enough to save him?

Oh, s.h.i.t. She needed to get one of the guns and go help, just to guard him.

Except they were already gone.

She finally sat at the kitchen table and forced herself to stop acting nuts. Zeke was perfectly capable, more capable than any man she'd ever known. His rifle was going to work just fine. He'd probably done this a hundred times...she just hadn't been here to wait and worry.

While she was waiting she might as well do something, so she made two batches of cookies: the chocolate chip Zeke liked and oatmeal-raisin because that was what she preferred. Sitting was impossible, and cooking kept her hands and her mind busy...most of the time. Possible disastrous scenarios ran through her mind, though she did try to keep her mind on what she was doing and not on what they might or might not be doing.

It had been a very long time since she'd had anyone in her life to worry about on a daily basis.

Finally she heard them drive up, and a little while later she heard his footsteps. Before he could unlock the door she was there, opening the door, checking out the little bit of exposed skin she could see for scratches, sc.r.a.pes, blood. He looked fine. More than fine, he looked great-and annoyed.

"Didn't find 'em, huh?" she said, being very careful not to give too much of herself away. It wouldn't do for Zeke to know that she'd been half-wild with worry for him. Zeke to know that she'd been half-wild with worry for him.

"No." He handed her the rifle and began to peel off his outerwear. "We'll head back out early tomorrow. We have a good idea of where they'll be, we just ran out of daylight."

Great. She'd worry all over again! Not that she could let him see her concern. Their relationship was supposed to be employee to employer...and s.e.x. No worrying, no taking on each other's problems.

If she took on his, then he'd probably feel obligated to take hers on, as well.

She walked into the kitchen, still holding the rifle. Instead of handing the weapon back to Zeke she propped it in the corner-carefully-then turned to face him. Her arms snaked around his neck. His arms went around her.

"I missed you," she whispered.

His eyebrows raised slightly. "We weren't gone all that long."

Long enough. Too long. "I made cookies."

He smiled. "I smell 'em. Maybe you should miss me more often."

He lifted her; she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"The guys will be in soon for supper," Zeke said, nuzzling her neck and sounding almost angry at the timing.

"This is true." She kissed him on the side of the neck.

"Maybe I should just deadbolt the door and let them fend for themselves. One night won't hurt 'em. I think there's some tuna in the bunkhouse pantry. Crackers, too. Now, there's a balanced meal."

Zeke's suggestion was tempting, even if he was kidding. At least, she thought he was kidding.

"You get a quick shower," Carlin said as he reluctantly placed her on her feet. "We'll get everyone fed and out the door in no time."

And once they were alone again they wouldn't talk about wolves or Brad or the rapidly approaching spring.

MAYBE BECAUSE THEY spent a few energetic hours before Carlin slipped out of his bed to go back to her own room-and, d.a.m.n it, he wished to h.e.l.l she'd quit doing that-the next morning didn't start quite as it normally did. spent a few energetic hours before Carlin slipped out of his bed to go back to her own room-and, d.a.m.n it, he wished to h.e.l.l she'd quit doing that-the next morning didn't start quite as it normally did.

Zeke knew something was wrong before he reached the kitchen. The lights weren't on, there was no scent of freshly brewed coffee to draw him in that direction, and all was quiet. Well, s.h.i.t.

Either Carlin had overslept or she'd bolted in the night. He didn't think she'd leave, not now, or at least not without saying something. But...d.a.m.n, what if she had? He'd been so tired last night after she'd gone to her own bedroom that he'd slept like a dead man until the alarm went off.

No, he wouldn't let himself think that. For one thing, since the accident she'd been extremely leery-and with good reason-about driving on icy roads. If there was any moisture on the roads, they froze over every night. If she were going to leave, she'd do it at high noon, after the ice had melted on the roads.

He headed down the hallway to her rooms. Her door was closed, which wasn't a surprise. He knocked, called out. "Carlin!" No response.

h.e.l.l, had had she left in the middle of the night, despite the ice? His own blood felt like ice as he tried the doork.n.o.b. Locked. That wasn't a surprise, given her fondness for deadbolts. Relief flooded through him, because unless she'd gone out the window, that meant she was in there. she left in the middle of the night, despite the ice? His own blood felt like ice as he tried the doork.n.o.b. Locked. That wasn't a surprise, given her fondness for deadbolts. Relief flooded through him, because unless she'd gone out the window, that meant she was in there.

He pounded on the door and called her name, louder this time. He finally heard her on the other side of the door, and started grinning. Not that he could make out every word, but there were several "Oh, s.h.i.ts," followed by a slightly frantic, "Coming!" door, and started grinning. Not that he could make out every word, but there were several "Oh, s.h.i.ts," followed by a slightly frantic, "Coming!"

The door opened, and Carlin darted past him, a rumpled, wild-haired frenzy in a blue bathrobe.

"I overslept!" she yelped without looking back. "Oh, s.h.i.t! s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t!"

He followed her at a slower pace, relieved that she was still here, strangely attracted by her fresh-out-of-bed messiness. He stood in the kitchen doorway and watched her blast around like a crazed hummingbird-a very s.e.xy hummingbird, with sleep-flushed cheeks, blond hair falling this way and that, and those pajamas clinging to her a.s.s and b.o.o.bs as she moved around. Her robe didn't do much to conceal, well, anything. The hem flipped and danced as she got to work.

No woman in this particular state should make him hard, but Carlin did. She wasn't just rumpled, she was fl.u.s.tered, and still amazingly efficient. In less than a minute she had the coffeepot going and a carton of eggs out of the fridge. There wasn't much time before the hands would start showing up for breakfast. It wouldn't be a day for pancakes or omelets. He suspected this would be a scrambled egg day. She'd fix something else, too, because she knew they all needed plenty of calories, especially in this cold, but she didn't have a lot of time.

She glanced over her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I must've turned off the alarm in my sleep. I never do that! Well, I guess I do. Normally Normally I never do that. Coffee will be ready in a minute." I never do that. Coffee will be ready in a minute."

In an easy and practiced motion, Carlin reached into the freezer and came out with a bag of frozen biscuits. She turned on the oven, grabbed a cookie sheet out of a cabinet, and in the same smooth move she opened the fridge and grabbed a package of ham.

G.o.d, forget the biscuits, he thought. He wanted to eat her her. Fresh from the bed, heavy-lidded and mussed and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l...he wanted to take that bathrobe off of her, kiss her neck, then peel off those pajamas and f.u.c.k her on the kitchen table. And if he didn't get his mind off that picture right now, the men would know as soon as they came into the kitchen because he'd have a hard-on that would tear out his zipper.

When the first knock sounded at the door, Carlin cinched the sash of her bathrobe tight and ran a hand through her hair. It didn't help much.

He went to unlock the door. "Guess who overslept," he said as the men tromped in. There was no doubt who the someone was, given he was showered and shaved and dressed, and she looked as if she'd been chased around the kitchen by the Hounds of the Baskervilles. But she had scrambled eggs, ham, and biscuits on the table in record time, and they all laughed when she heaved a big "Whoo!" as she set the plates down.

"I feel as if I've run a marathon," she announced. "I need coffee. If any of you somehow break every bone in your body and need me to spoon-feed you, yell out, but otherwise I'm going to sit in the kitchen and suck down some caffeine."

"Just don't go to sleep again," Walt said, grinning.

"Hah. As if I could."

Zeke watched her go. She didn't know she was gorgeous, didn't realize how tempting she was. If she checked, she'd definitely see how tempting she was to him. Thank G.o.d he was sitting down now, because no way could he hide his physical reaction to her. And, d.a.m.n, did she have to use the word "suck"? He could barely focus on eating.

When Walt-the last to finish-left by way of the mudroom, Zeke followed him to the door, told his foreman he had a little paperwork to take care of, and once Walt was out of earshot, locked the door.

He returned to the kitchen and-again-just watched Carlin as she piled dirty dishes in the sink. When she saw him, she smiled. "What a way to start the morning! My heart is still pounding. Now that it's over, I think I'll have some more coffee before I-" She registered his expression and stopped in mid-sentence. Her smile changed, her eyes growing heavy-lidded. "I'm not going to get that cup of coffee just yet, am I?"

Zeke shook his head and walked toward her.

She tried to argue with him. "I need a shower, and some makeup, and a hairbrush..."

"You don't need a thing. Except maybe me." He kissed her neck, her mouth, and while he kissed he untied the bathrobe sash and slipped his hands inside the robe. She was warm and soft, yielding and...his.

She sighed as he kissed her neck, reached between them to put her hand over his erection. "Who knew that frazzled and unkempt was such a turn-on for you?" she murmured.

He slid his hand inside the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pushed them down.

"Zeke!" She ruined the protest with a laugh. She was already breathing hard, her nipples peaking under the thin cotton of her pajama top.

He stopped both the protest and the laugh with a hand between her legs. He found her soft opening and pushed, slipping a finger inside her, then another. She was wet and hot, ready for him, clinging to him and gasping.

"Here?" she whispered, and to answer her own question she unfastened and unzipped his jeans and pushed them down.

He lifted her and she kicked her pajama bottoms aside, wrapped her legs around his waist. He turned and pinned her to the nearest wall, held her while she guided his p.e.n.i.s into her hot body, slick and tight and as ready for him as he was for her. She rode him, slow at first, eyes closed and head back as if she savored every stroke. Heart pounding, he gripped her a.s.s and moved her faster, up and down, going into her deeper and harder. closed and head back as if she savored every stroke. Heart pounding, he gripped her a.s.s and moved her faster, up and down, going into her deeper and harder.

She climaxed, a cry tearing out of her throat, and her hot inner muscles clamped down on him like a soft fist, milked him as he came with her, fast and hard, and d.a.m.n, at that moment life was good.

Life was good because he had Carlin in his kitchen, most nights in his bed, and right now wrapped around his body. And, s.h.i.t, he hadn't even made it as far as the kitchen table.

Chapter Twenty-five

"LIBBY'S COMING TO visit," Zeke announced one morning in January. "I just got off the phone with her." visit," Zeke announced one morning in January. "I just got off the phone with her."

Carlin kept her expression calm, but panic squeezed her stomach. Libby! The famous, perfect Libby-here. In what was now Carlin's domain. She couldn't have been more terrified if the ranch were being invaded by the Huns.

"That's nice," she managed to say. "When?"

"Next week. I'll pick her up at the bus stop in town."

Men. "Exactly when, next week? Monday? Thursday? I need to plan the meals, so I'll have to time the grocery shopping." That sounded reasonable, didn't it? "And how long is she staying?"

"A week, tops," he replied, answering her second question first. "And she'll be here on Tuesday."

Today was Thursday. She had five days to prepare. Suddenly, five weeks weeks didn't sound like enough time for all she had to do. The place had to be perfectly clean-good luck with that, considering she had to deal with Zeke the Laundry-Making Monster-and, please G.o.d, don't let her burn anything when she was cooking! didn't sound like enough time for all she had to do. The place had to be perfectly clean-good luck with that, considering she had to deal with Zeke the Laundry-Making Monster-and, please G.o.d, don't let her burn anything when she was cooking!

The days pa.s.sed in a frenzy of preparations. She went over menus, new dishes, and finally rejected everything new because now was certainly not the time to be experimenting! She was as nervous about meeting Libby as she would've been if she was meeting Zeke's family. He'd said his mom and sisters and their families usually came for a visit in the summer, so she didn't worry about them; she'd be gone by then, and because she wouldn't be around for much longer she really shouldn't be worried about meeting Libby. What did it matter if Libby liked her or not? new because now was certainly not the time to be experimenting! She was as nervous about meeting Libby as she would've been if she was meeting Zeke's family. He'd said his mom and sisters and their families usually came for a visit in the summer, so she didn't worry about them; she'd be gone by then, and because she wouldn't be around for much longer she really shouldn't be worried about meeting Libby. What did it matter if Libby liked her or not?

Because it mattered to Zeke, that was what.

Because it mattered to him, it mattered to her. Never mind that if she stuck with her plan, she'd be gone in two months.

"If?" When had it become "if"?

She had to stop thinking that way. She still didn't know where she'd go, but it didn't really matter, did it? What mattered was that whenever she tried to think about her next step, she faltered. She didn't want to leave-not in the spring, not ever.

Falling in love with Zeke hadn't been part of the plan. Some nights she had to bite her lip to keep from saying the words.

The winter had gone by too fast. She tried to hold on to the good times, had tried to make Christmas and even New Year's Eve as special as possible so she-and maybe even Zeke-would have something to remember when days were not so bright. They'd laughed together, they'd spent hours making love in his big warm bed upstairs, they'd spent other hours snuggled in front of the fireplace just enjoying each other's company. The men felt like family. This felt like home.

Now it was January, the weather was as unG.o.dly cold as they'd warned her it would be, and spring was too d.a.m.n close.

When she'd given herself a deadline for leaving, she hadn't specified late late spring or spring or early early spring, and from all spring, and from all she'd heard could she really leave Zeke in the middle of the very busy calving season? He'd need her then, even if he did work from before dawn until well after dark and she didn't get to see him nearly as often as she'd like. She was talking herself into staying, and that scared the h.e.l.l out of her because she didn't have to put a whole lot of effort into it. she'd heard could she really leave Zeke in the middle of the very busy calving season? He'd need her then, even if he did work from before dawn until well after dark and she didn't get to see him nearly as often as she'd like. She was talking herself into staying, and that scared the h.e.l.l out of her because she didn't have to put a whole lot of effort into it.

But now Libby was coming to visit, and Carlin was beginning to wish she'd left yesterday, spring or no spring.

Tuesday came way too fast. Zeke went into town to meet Libby's bus. Carlin stayed behind to prepare a big dinner: roast and potatoes, green bean ca.s.serole, corn pudding, soft rolls, and white cake for dessert. With the crew down to winter level and the married men eating their evening meals at their own homes, she'd been cooking for a smaller crowd lately. There were usually seven for breakfast and lunch instead of ten, since Patrick had returned earlier than expected, but it would be eight while Libby was visiting. Dinner would now be for six, instead of five. It was amazing what a difference the absence of three men made when it came to cooking and grocery shopping!