Cooper's Fall (11 page)

His woman. For the first time in his life, Cooper loved a woman. He’d be damned if anyone was going to take her from him.

She thought she would be safe. Uncle Martin had kept track of her father’s enemies. They had all died. The lieutenants who would have come after her had been arrested. Or they were gone, buried. Yet, someone had found her, was following her.

And they knew about Ethan.

Her hands were shaking as Ethan—everyone called him Cooper, but to her, he was Ethan—escorted her into the loud, crowded bar.

The Broken Bar was the hangout for every type of carouser, partier, or just plain wannabe-badass. And there were a few real badasses mixed in there, she was certain. The bouncers definitely. There had to be a dozen on duty tonight.

She picked them out instantly, most likely because there were no less than three around her and Ethan at any given time.

She pushed her fingers through her hair as she sat at the bar, tapping her fingers against the slick surface as she watched the large, cavernous room that seemed packed with twisting, drinking, gyrating, half-drunk bodies. A night of fun had never seemed so sinister.

Yes, it had. The last time she had let her fascination for a male draw her from hiding. And now, it was threatening the only man she had ever loved outside of her family.

“One of our finest.” Jake pushed a glass of whiskey in front of her. The little shot glass was a joke. She picked it up and tossed it back, grimacing at the pure pleasure of the burn that cascaded through her body.

“Hit me again, Jake.” She sat the little glass on the table as she gave the order absently, looking around, trying to make certain she couldn’t recognize any of the men she knew were her father’s enemies. Or could be.

He sat the shot glass in front of her. She frowned and looked up at him. “How ’bout a double?”

Jake’s brows lifted but he poured the shot into a glass, added to it, and handed it to her. He was watching her as though he expected her to just dunk it like she had the one before.

The first shot was for courage. This one she would sip. Drinking too fast only made her sick. She tolerated her liquor really well. What she didn’t tolerate well were nerves. And she had plenty of those going on tonight.

She twisted around the bar stool and came face-to-face with Ethan’s chest. She looked up the wide expanse to meet his inquisitive look from the glass to her.

“Not to worry,” she sighed. “I rarely ever get drunk.”

“That wasn’t what I was worried about.” His hazel and amber eyes were lit with amusement. “I’ve noticed, though. The only time I’ve seen you drinking is here, in my bar.”

“How would you know?” She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes. “You are very rarely in the house with me, Ethan.”

“But I watch you by your pool. If you were going to drink, you’d be on the patio.”

Her lips twitched, and she flushed. Because he had seen her masturbating by the pool. And because, damn him, he was right.

She sipped at the whiskey, loving the little bit of a burn that hit the back of her throat and flowed to her stomach. It eased her nerves just enough for her to see the fun that could be had in a crowd. And at home, sometimes, a drink in the evening helped her relax for the night. Though that was rare. She didn’t like sleeping at night.

“I’m not used to crowds, that’s why I rarely go out,” she told him.

“I figured that out. Are you ready to dance with me now?”

Sheer excitement filled her veins. “Seriously?” She looked out at the dance floor. “You’ll dance with me?” He’d said he wanted to, but she hadn’t been certain he meant it.

“Sair, sweetheart, I’d probably dance
for
you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, you little heart stealer. Dance with me.”

He pulled her out on the dance floor and he taught her the country steps, which weren’t hard to follow. She laughed as he twirled her around, pulled her against him, and ground his hips against hers with the rousing country beat. Then he let her go, let her wiggle and move, mimicking the other women on the floor before he would grip her, twirl her around, her hair fanning behind her before wrapping around his shoulder, some of the curls clinging to his T-shirt.

He seemed to like that.

Then the beat slowed, became dark and intimate, and he tucked her against his chest, his chin against the top of her head as she closed her eyes and felt him in every beat of her heart.

His hands stroked up her back, over the silky blouse she wore.
The one he had unbuttoned to the tops of her breasts and gazed at her. With one hand buried beneath her hair, his lips stroked over her brow, her cheek, her lips.

She whispered a sigh, her lips parting for him, feeling his kiss as she would have felt a caress clear to the depths of her spirit. He touched her that way. Just the thought of him touched her that way.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into the kiss as her lashes fluttered open. “Remember that, Sair. All mine.”

“Always yours, Ethan.” She would always belong to him, even if she had to run to protect him. And she would have to run soon. After he fell asleep tonight perhaps. Very soon. Because she couldn’t risk allowing him to be hurt.

But for now, she could hold on to him, feel him holding her. Because this was her dream. And this man was her heart.

Cooper pulled her against him, feeling her slight form moving with him as his eyes narrowed on the entrance of the bar. The guy that stepped in was no biker, drinker, or weekend partier.

He wore black jeans, a jacket in the middle of summer, and he was packing heat. Cooper watched as three of his bouncers moved between them and the new visitor. Finally, with a grimace, the stranger left. But Cooper knew his face now. Hell, he had his face. He glanced to Jake, who caught his eye and nodded. They had him on the security camera; all they had to do was run it now. He watched as the assistant bartender took over and Jake headed to the office.

“What are you doing, Ethan?” She lifted her head now, her gaze suddenly too somber, too filled with shadows.

“Dancing with you.” He touched her cheek, cupped it. “Protecting you.”

She shook her head before pressing her forehead into his chest and he knew she was fighting her tears. He’d seen them glittering in her eyes, felt the shudder that raced down her spine.

“Come on.” He caught her hand as the song ended. “I want to show you something.”

Sarah let Ethan pull her through the dance floor, back to the bar where they moved into the narrow space Jake called his domain, and to the door at the far wall. There was no way to get back there except through Jake, and the bouncers closest to the bar.

The music became muted as he closed the door and led her through a short hall to a flight of rough wooden stairs.

“Where are we going?” she asked, loving the feel of her hand gripped in his, the warmth of it, the implied connection.

She shouldn’t love him so, she thought. She should have held a part of herself back. A part of her heart.

“This is my home away from home.” He unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and flipped on the switch. Soft, muted light filled the room.

There was a bed at the far end of the room. A large bed, strewn with pillows.

“And no, I’ve never had another woman up here.” He closed the door and locked it behind him as she moved to the bank of monitors that sat over his office desk.

On one side of the room a tinted window looked out over the dance floor. She realized it was what she believed was a mirror on the wall above the dance floor.

There was a single shaded window by the bed, thick rugs, a table with two chairs, and a lamp hanging over it. Simple. Basic. Yes, Ethan would have come here to work, for the quiet, to brood perhaps. She could easily see him brooding here.

She turned back to him slowly.

He had stripped off his T-shirt and dropped it to the couch that sat against the wall, beside the bed. He toed his boots off, the amber
in his gaze deepening as she slid her sandals from her feet and her fingers began to unbutton her shirt. Removing it, she quickly unhooked her bra and dropped it from her shoulders.

She needed him. Needed him until the ache was like talons of hunger tearing at her. She unbuttoned her jeans as he tore at the belt cinching his hips. They moved together, undressed together.

She pushed her panties and jeans down her legs as he did, stepped out of them, and stepped toward him.

“God, I missed you, Sair.”

She was in his arms. He lifted her, holding her to him as he kissed her, devoured her lips, and carried her to the bed he had never shared with another woman. The bed that would only know the two of them.

The firm mattress cushioned them as he laid her back. It had been three days. She wasn’t content to lay back and just be touched. She wanted to touch.

She rose up, curling her legs under her as he knelt in front of her. Her hands lifted, palms stroking along his chest, down the hard, rippling abs as her lips pressed to his hip.

She needed. Needed to love him. This one night. Enough to last forever.

She gripped the hard length of his cock, smoothed her hands over the shaft as she watched the little pearl of liquid that formed at the slit.

Her tongue touched it, tasted it. And she wanted more. She let her mouth cover the broad crest, her tongue finding the little bar piercing beneath the head, playing with it as she sucked at the crown.

“Hell, Sair.” His hands burrowed in her hair, pulling, caressing the strands. “So pretty. So sweet.”

She stared up at him, caught and held by his gaze. Oh God. Oh God. He was staring at her in a way she never thought he would. As though, almost as if, maybe, he cared for her?

She whimpered, her mouth filled with him, her hunger for him suddenly ravenous. She had to have him. All of him. Touch him. Learn him. Her fingers stroked the shaft; her palm moved to the tight weight of his balls and she caressed him there as well.

His shoulders looked massive from where she sat. His arms were bunched. The snake tattoo rippled across his bicep, moved, flexed, its red eyes piercing the dim light of the room.

The sight of it brought her a sense of security, not a sense of fear.

“Christ. Yeah. Suck me, Sair. Hell. Your mouth is so fucking sweet. Damn you. Tight and hot and so damned sweet.”

He was blunt, explicit, and she loved it. She needed it. Her suckling strokes became deeper as she took him to her throat, moaned, and let her hands pump his shaft.

Evidently she was doing well.

“Hell. I love fucking your mouth,” he bit out as the crown of his cock throbbed, seeming to swell thicker against her tongue.

His hands pulled at her hair, just enough. It sent flashes of pleasure racing through her scalp, down her spine.

“Oh yeah, suck it like that,” he groaned as she took him deep, her tongue tucking against the piercing and rolling over it. “Damn, Sair. You make me hard enough to fucking cut glass with my dick.” He growled the words. They rumbled from his chest, filled her senses.

She wanted to taste him, all of him.

“The hell you’re gonna make me blow this fast.”

She gripped his hips as he pulled back.

“Ethan, wait.”

“Like hell.” He pushed her back.

Before she could recover he was over her, kissing her, taking her mouth with deep plunges of his tongue. Licking and tasting her before his lips moved to her breasts.