A Touch in Time (2 page)

His frown returned. “I have no idea what this rodeo is you’re talking about, but, yes, you’re on a ranch.
My
ranch,” he repeated not-so-happily.

A deep frown tugged at Jake Dawson’s mouth as he stared down at the crazy woman lying unconscious in his arms. Make that beautiful crazy woman.

Most of what she’d been saying hadn’t made a lick of sense to him. How could she not know what year it was? Was she ill? She had fallen climbing over the corral fence. Chances were good she’d struck her head when she landed.

He reached out to run his fingers through her hair and over her scalp again, still finding no sign of injury.

Maybe it was his head he should be worried about. It had been more than a year since he’d last fucked a woman and his sexual thoughts had been riding him hard the past couple of months. That and his own hand.

Was it possible he’d gotten to the point of wanting to feel the tight, wet, welcoming flesh of a female so badly that he’d simply conjured one up? Conjured
her
up.

Chestnut hair with streaks of gold woven through it lifted in the breeze, brushing across his arm in a silken caress. One that felt far too real against his flesh. The scent of clean skin and ripe berries drifted up to tease his already heightened senses.

He skimmed a finger along her cheek and then down the curve of her neck, needing to know if she were real or some lust-induced figment of his imagination. Beneath his curious touch, the woman’s pulse beat steady and strong, ending any doubt. She was real.

He studied her face, noting the thin line of black painted across each of her eyelids. Below the sweep of ebony were the thickest black lashes he’d ever seen. Lips, full and tempting, shimmered a soft pink beneath the sun’s glaring rays.

Painted face. Painted lady.

Jake gritted his teeth. Memories of the soiled dove he’d crossed paths with the year before had his body tensing in anger. He’d been trailing Deke Johnson across Texas when a saloon whore approached him, telling him she had information about the man he’d been tracking down. Information she was willing to exchange for his helping her escape the life she’d been forced to live. Well, he’d fallen for her tearful pleas. Bought it hook, line and sinker and it had nearly cost him his life.

Fearing that he’d lost the edge a Texas Ranger needed to survive, he left the company and bought himself a secluded little ranch on the outskirts of Cheyenne. He was a loner. A man who valued his privacy and guarded it carefully. A man who denied himself the pleasure of female company as a reminder of what his last good fuck had cost him.

He might have stopped tracking down outlaws with the Rangers, but he hadn’t lost his thirst for revenge where Deke was concerned. The man would pay for what he’d done. What he’d taken from him. All Jake had to do was be patient and wait for his enemy to come to him. And come he would. Of that, Jake had made certain.

Uneasy thoughts pricked at him as he stared down at the female in his arms. Not that an unconscious woman could be of any real threat, but what if, like last time, she wasn’t alone?

His narrowed gaze swept the vast expanse of land and woods that made up his ranch, searching for any sign that Deke was out there, lying in wait.

Nothing.

A soft moan drew his gaze back to the woman. How the hell had she walked out to the corral without him seeing her approach? Climbed right over the damned corral fence without a sound no less.

His dark gaze took in the thin cotton shirt she wore, one cut low enough in the front to give him more than an eyeful of flesh. The turquoise material clung temptingly to the rest of her breasts, not large ones like most of the whores he knew flaunted, but perfectly round swells that had his mouth yearning to sample them.

His perusal moved downward to where the too-small top pulled away from the waistband of her jeans, displaying not the pale white flesh he would have expected of a woman’s stomach, but smooth, tanned flesh.

Something winked at him in the sunlight, drawing his gaze even closer. What looked to be a tiny diamond star dangled in the hollow of her navel. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch the sparkling jewel. His finger circled the delicate gem and then skimmed the plane of her bare stomach. Skin so soft. So smooth.

All he had to do was slip his hand beneath her shirt... Desire surged through him at the thought, thickening his cock.

Jake pulled his hand away with a muttered curse. She was a whore. An unconscious one at that. Yet even at that reminder, his gaze slid down to take in the gentle curve of the woman’s hips and the long, denim-clad legs that followed. The sight of which was pure torture for a man who had gone without for so long. His cock thumped beneath the thick denim of his fly.

“Fuck.”

He forced his gaze to something far less tempting – her fawn colored boots – and his eyes went wide. The heels on them were damn near as long as fence posts. How the hell had she made it to the corral without breaking her pretty little neck?

His horse whickered behind him, reminding Jake of where they were. He needed to get this woman, whoever she was, out from under the blazing heat of the afternoon sun. Gathering her up in his arms, he stood and carried her back to his cabin.

CHAPTER TWO

Something cool and moist slid across her brow, drawing Brianna from the dark abyss she’d been sucked into. She forced her eyes open, expecting the blinding glare of the sun, only to find herself surrounded by near darkness.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up,” that deep, sexy voice from her dreams drawled.

She turned toward the husky sound, focusing on the fantasy man beside her. His broad shoulders and dark head were outlined in the pale glow of light coming from somewhere behind him. As her eyes adjusted to the shadowy room, his features became clearer.

“I’m dreaming,” she declared with a soft sigh.

He let out a husky chuckle. “Lady, if you’re gonna dream about a man, I promise I’d be the last one you’d wanna consider for the job.”

He pulled his hand away and placed the damp cloth he’d been wiping her brow with into a small ceramic basin of water on the nightstand beside him.

She looked around the tiny room, taking in her surroundings. It was clearly a bedroom, but the sparseness of the décor surprised her. No television. No stereo. Not even an alarm clock. Just a double bed with a simple iron frame and a couple of small, very rustic looking tables.

The man towering over her, shifted slightly, revealing the source of light behind him was not from an electric bulb, but by a flame wavering inside a clear globe, one a second globe filled with oil gave life to.

She bit back a gasp. If this wasn’t a dream, and she wasn’t at the rodeo, it could only mean she really had somehow tumbled from the twentieth century into the old west.

She struggled to get free, but the ropes that secured her to the bed held fast. More panic set in. She’d wished for a cowboy with a code of honor, but she’d ended up here. Tied to a bed by a man wearing a gun. An outlaw no doubt. Could things get any worse?

He reached out to still her thrashing. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

The feel of his large hand splayed across the bare skin of her stomach made her pulse race. She dared a glance up at the determined face of her captor. Jake Dawson was no ‘pretty boy’, GQ model type. He was, however, devastatingly handsome in a purely dark, sensual, rugged way.

His callused hand smoothed over her stomach and she fought the urge to arch into his touch. Her body wanted more. It had been so long since a man touched her. Even longer since she wanted one to.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice low and soothing, calming her with slow steady strokes. Strokes she wished were lower. Anything to ease the ache this man stirred in her.

Thick, wavy black hair hung down over his brow above intense, dark brown eyes as he leaned over her. Her thoughts shifted to the five o’clock shadow that darkened his strong jaw. What would it feel like to have that course stubble rubbing against her flesh, the flesh between her thighs?

He moved to check the ropes that bound her wrists to the headboard. He was so close she could smell him, musk and leather and all man. Her gaze was drawn to the faded scar that ran from the outer edge of his jaw to disappear beneath his shaggy mane. She wanted to trace it with her fingertips. Unfortunately, her bound hands prevented her from giving in to the temptation.

Water dripping onto the hollow between her breasts yanked her from her thoughts. Brianna glanced down at the hand hovering scant inches above her flesh. When had his hand left her to retrieve the rag from the bowl?

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, giving the rag another squeeze.

Tiny droplets teased her skin, making her shiver. It wasn’t from the cold water running down her flesh. It was from the erotic thoughts the sensation evoked. His tongue tracing the watery path down to her aching pussy, lapping at the moisture gathered there until she came - hard.

And I’m wanting.
She arched into his touch. “No,” she muttered impatiently. “He didn’t.”

“You’re lying, darlin’.” Grasping the hem of her shirt, he dragged it upward with a savage sneer and then froze.

She glanced down at the leopard print, demi-cup bra peeking out from beneath her gathered shirt and realization dawned on her. It wasn’t her less than bountiful breasts that had stopped him cold. It was the sight of her twenty-first century lingerie.

“You like?” she said with a slow smile.

“Darlin’...” he hissed, looking down at her like she was the sexiest female he’d ever laid eyes on. Like he wanted to devour her whole. And she was so very ready to be eaten.

Cum dripped from her cunt as his fingers skimmed the flesh spilling out over the satin cups, teasing it. Wait until he saw her matching thong.

“Deke knew what he was doing when he chose you,” he said, his jaw clenching as if fighting the need to touch her.

“I don’t know anyone named Deke. Why won’t you believe me?”

He lowered his face to hers. “Because beauty can be deceiving. I know.” Reaching out, he yanked the animal print down, freeing a breast.

He was angry. But it was more than anger driving him to touch her. It was hunger. There was no missing the passion that burned in those dark eyes.

She moaned as he captured a taut pink nipple between his teeth, nipping at it. Desire sizzled through her, zapping her senses.

“I know how to make a woman talk,” he warned, his breath a hot, moist caress against her over-sensitized flesh.

She arched into the heat of his mouth, ready to do more than just talk. “I don’t know how I got here,” she panted.

“No?” He undid her jeans. A second later, they were down around her ankles, binding her legs. “Mmm...” he grumbled in approval as his finger eased beneath the strip of material covering her wet pussy.

Her gaze settled on the impressive bulge threatening to burst through the fly of his jeans. “I see you like my thong.”

He gave it a tug, pulling the cum-dampened silk up between her nether lips which had her writhing. “It appears I’m not the only one who likes it,” he added with a cocky grin as he pulled again, sinking the thong deeper between her slick feminine folds.

“No,” she argued with a breathy gasp even as her body betrayed her. Cum dripped from her cunt to fill the crack of her ass.

His finger dipped beneath her thong, into the welcoming heat of her pussy. Then he pulled his hand free. “This tells me otherwise.” He wiped the glistening fingertip across her lips.

His boldness shocked her, but there was something wickedly arousing about tasting her own juices. She ran the tip of her tongue over her parted lips, the husky growl she elicited from her captor arousing her even more.

He crushed her mouth with his own. “Mmmm...” he murmured as he licked away every bit of her cream.

She squirmed, needing release. The movement had her thong brushing over her aching clit. Pushing her to the edge.

“Not yet,” he said as he moved to the foot of the bed and parted her thighs. Cool air rushed over her heated flesh. “When you cum, you cum for me.”

She bit her lip to keep from crying out, from letting him know how desperately she wanted the release he promised. Moisture seeped from her pussy as his dark head moved between her thighs, his tongue running slowly over the swollen folds.

“Oh,” she groaned, her head digging back into the pillow, her hips lifting.

“Tell me what I want to hear, Brianna,” he ordered as his fingers parted her. His tongue delved inside, sweeping past the nub of her desire in hard, angry thrusts.