Authors: Kate Angell
He looked down between their bodies. The neckline of her top still hung
off her nipples and the drawstring on her sweatpants was tugged low off her
hips.
The exposed skin was flushed as pink as the wings on her butterfly navel
stud.
The slickness between her thighs had invited him to enter her. Yet her
dazed expression hadn't held the same naked lust that fired his belly. Her
hands clutched his arms; her legs were stiffly locked.
He'd gone off on her, all wild and wounded.
She'd let him rage on her body.
She hadn't tried to fight him.
His hand was still down her panties.
He swore, pulled free, and dropped back a step. He was acutely aware how
small she appeared. The perception reset reality.
Tension born of his adrenaline and her vulnerability filled the air. He
watched as Dayne adjusted her top and sweatpants. Her hands shook and her
cheeks burned.
Once fully covered, she cleared her throat, and cautiously met his gaze.
“I know what not to call you.”
“We can't repeat what just happened.” He owed her an explanation, which
he reluctantly gave. “You jarred a bad memory that brought out the worst in me.”
She touched her ringers to her lips—lips now swollen from the grind of
his mouth against hers. “We all have our demons,” she said softly. “Some that
won't die. I didn't mean to be cruel.”
“I didn't mean to jump you.”
Cimarron took that moment to nudge himself between them. The dog dropped
to his haunches beside Dayne, then leaned into her thigh. She immediately
scratched his ears.
Kason noted the naturalness between Cim and the tomboy. The Doberman
sensed something about her that Kason had yet to put his finger on. The earlier
cell phone call had brought out the fight in her. She'd then gone on to
challenge him for the trailer, win or lose.
In the end, he might have lost more than she. Her scent, taste, and feel
soon followed him to bed. A bed where he slept naked and alone.
Cimarron had settled on the foot of the mattress, only to desert Kason
within minutes for the guest room. He'd heard the springs on Dayne's bed squeak
as she'd edged over and welcomed his Dobie. Cim was one lucky dog.
Four
Kason Rhodes kept company
with the dawn. He'd always been a fan of mornings and rose with the first
fingers of light.
He stretched out on his
back, jammed a pillow beneath his head, and fought the full press of his
erection. Damn, he was stiff.
Dayne had infiltrated his
dreams. She'd aroused him in a fantasy of foreplay and sweet panting. Yet
there'd been no satisfaction. Boners sucked. His flying solo fell flat.
He hadn't taken himself in
hand since he was sixteen.
There wasn't enough soap on
the planet to satisfy him this morning.
Today, Dayne will pack and
depart.
The thought jacked him from
bed. He had every reason to want her gone, yet his gut tightened at the thought
of her eviction. He hated to be the bad guy, even with good reason.
Kassie.
He'd never imagined the childhood name would cause
such a knee-jerk reaction. The previous evening he'd gone all animal on her.
He'd shut her mouth with a punishing kiss, then proceeded to stroke her wet.
Lady had gone slick for
him.
He'd had no business
touching her.
He felt like an absolute
ass.
He didn't seek forgiveness
often.
Yet a second apology might
set things right.
He'd shower and shave, and
afterward they'd talk.
Female laughter captured
the dawn, just outside his window. He glanced out.
He located Dayne just
beyond his Hummer. A red Woodstock '69 T-shirt hung loosely off her shoulders
and black sweatpants with Key West across her bottom draped her hips. She stood
barefoot in the dewy grass, one arm raised, ready to throw a tennis ball for
Cimarron to chase. Cim was so excited, he quivered.
Tomboy had a good arm. She powered
the ball a fair distance, giving the Dobie a solid run. The dog retrieved,
returned, and dropped the ball in her palm, ready to go again. Twenty tosses,
and they changed games.
Hide-and-seek came next.
Dayne made Cim sit and stay while she hid behind the Hummer. She whistled, and
Cim charged to find her. Once spotted, Dayne took off. The Dobie loped at her
heels. Cimarron lived to give chase.
In his exuberance, Cim
sideswiped her hip, knocked her down. Dayne landed flat on her back in the
grass. Cim dropped down beside her.
She was so out of breath,
her laughter came choked and thin. The Dobie licked her face, and she wheezed
even harder.
Hand over her heart, she
slowly calmed. She shaded her eyes against the sun and looked at the crystal
blue sky. She inhaled deeply—fresh air and the scent of the woods—and sighed
with contentment.
“Eat.” She knew the way to
Cimarron's heart. Both woman and dog rose and returned to the trailer.
The scent and sizzle of
hamburger made Kason's stomach growl. Lady was cooking breakfast.
He drew on a pair of gray
athletic shorts, rounded the bed, and stepped into the hallway. The sight of
Dayne feeding Cimarron two enormous hamburger patties on a paper plate brought
him up short. The Dobie looked at her adoringly before devouring his breakfast.
She was spoiling his dog.
Dayne sensed Kason before
he could move. Her gaze flicked up, then down, taking him in. Familiarity
darkened her watercolor blue eyes. She'd known his kiss, his touch, the press
of his erection. There was no moving beyond her stare.
Her look dared him to face
her after the previous evening. He met her challenge. His shoulders squared and
his abs flexed.
His hands fisted.
He widened his stance.
Heat circled his groin. His
dick strained to impress. He was nearly the size of her porno vibrator. She
blushed, and was the first to look away.
His neck burned.
There was no reason to
stand in the hall and point at her. He sidestepped into the bathroom, cracked
the door, called out. “You're up early.”
“I wanted to shower before
you got up.” Her words came around the wooden frame.
Damn. “Any hot water left?”
“It's a very small tank.”
The tank heated water for
one shower, not two.
The icy cold tamped him
down. After skrinking and shivering, he shot from the shower. He toweled off
and dressed.
Back in the kitchen, Kason
found Dayne bent low before the cupboards, itemizing her groceries. Her T-shirt
climbed her spine, revealing a symmetrical display of soft, smooth skin and a
nicely curved ass.
Cimarron had become Dayne's
shadow. She nearly tripped over him as she collected several #10 cans, then
staggered toward the front door. She stacked the items beneath the living room
window.
Twisting toward him, she
said, “I'm clearing the shelves so you can bring in your own food.”
He hadn't planned to shop
today. “What you don't want to haul, I'll buy,” he offered.
She circled back to the
kitchen. “I'm getting boxes from Frank's Warehouse today. I'll load up, see
what's leftover, and cut you a good deal.”
He moved to the
coffeemaker, poured himself a cup. “How do you plan to get the boxes back to
the trailer?” he asked with his first sip.
“I'll make several trips on
my bike.”
“That could take days.”
“I could get a couple of
people from work to help me.”
“I don't want strangers in
my mobile home.”
“I was a stranger once.”
She was familiar to him
now. He had kissed her deeply, stroked her intimately. He'd almost taken her
against the refrigerator. In the aftermath, they'd connected. She'd recognized
and understood his pain.
“Where will you go?” His
need to know proved stronger than he liked.
“I just might camp on your
doorstep.”
“Bad idea.”
She sighed, concentration
furrowing her brow. “I plan to buy a newspaper, scan the classifieds, and see
if there's a one-bedroom available close by.”
“Or maybe a place across
town? North is nice.”
“I'm healing,” she reminded
him. “I need alone time. This area is less traveled than most.”
There was little traffic
because he owned a thousand acres and no one trespassed. No one until the
tomboy.
He again wondered about her
illness, and if he was being a total jerk in tossing her ass. In his thirty-two
years, he'd never rehashed, contemplated, or questioned his decisions. He lived
by his gut. Yet Dayne had him second-guessing himself.
He glanced at his watch. “I
have places to go and people to see.”
“Job interviews?” She
looked hopeful for him.
“I have a strong lead.” He
hated lying to her.
“Good luck.” Her words
sounded sincere.
“I'll be back around two.”
“I'll have everything
packed and ready to go.”
Kason locked his jaw
against offering her another night in his double-wide. He was glad Cimarron
couldn't talk. The Dobie would be in Kason's face, campaigning for Dayne to
stay. Her mantra followed him out the door. “Breathe in; breathe out; move on.”
***
The Rogues practice
strained both his muscles and his restraint. Psycho was more of a dick today
than he'd been yesterday. His digs and jabs crossed to left field, then
centered on the batter's box. The man liked to needle.
Kason tuned out Psycho
until it came time for the team's daily scrimmage. Closing in on noon, the
manager instructed the ballplayers to form into two different teams from the
previous day. Center fielder Risk Kincaid and shortstop Zen Driscoll crossed to
the home team's dugout.
The Bat Pack hung as one.
“Deserters,” Psycho shouted
from the visitors' side.
“You've got us.” First
baseman Rhaden Dunn, along with the back-up catcher, begrudgingly crossed the
field.
Psycho grunted. “Two
batters hitting .280 can't replace grand slammers.”
Kason took his first at-bat
against pitcher Sloan McCaffrey. The man had never liked Kason. His wife, Eve,
was an artist. The previous July, Dog Days of Summer, a charity silent auction,
had brought out advocates for animal rescue. Sloan and Eve had been on the
outs. Kason had pushed Sloan back into Eve's life by bidding on her oil
painting of James River Stadium. Kason had driven up the price, forcing Sloan
to compete for his woman.
Wildly jealous, Sloan had
bid extravagantly. At the end of the night, he'd won both Eve and her painting.
Delighted by the outcome,
Eve had gifted Kason with Cimarron, one of the rescued pups. A nice gesture on
her part, yet one that suggested Kason might still be a rival for Eve's
affection. Sloan continued to keep a sharp eye on Kason, even after the couple
wed. Eve still dogsat Cim whenever the Rogues played out of town.
On the mound now, McCaffrey
wound up, hoping to draw Kason outside his strike zone.
Kason was selective.
He was known to often go to
full count before he took his swing. Three balls and two strikes, and he nailed
a fastball between first and second. The hit drew Psycho in from right to scoop
and throw. Kason slid cleats high into second for a double. Risk Kincaid's
single got Kason to third.
Zen Driscoll's solid hit to
center dropped behind the fielder. Kason sprinted home. His team led by one.
The three-inning scrimmage ended when Kason laid down a bunt, and Zen scored
from third. The home team took their 2-0 win to the locker room.