Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (14 page)

“What if Lenora keeps calling him with suggested changes for the pool house while he’s busy with the Movenbecks? She’s bound to send him over the edge.” Wren changed the color to blue with another eight. “He’s meeting with her after he finishes the install. How am I supposed to talk him down from a murderous rampage if I can’t even make a call?”

He chuckled. “We’ll have to hope he resists the urge. When the plow guys come through, we’ll get an update on things downtown. If they know of someone with a functioning landline, we’ll get you to it.”

“When will they be by?”

“Probably tomorrow at the earliest.”

“
Tomorrow
?”

“Yeah.” He set down the winning card. “Beat you again.”

She threw down her remaining hand in a huff. “I’m officially convinced the deck is rigged.”

“Sore loser.”

“Losing gets a little old after the sixth or seventh time.”

Cranky too. She needed a distraction before she went over and tried the light switch for the umpteenth time. She was definitely a city girl, and a frustrated one at that. “I’m going out to get firewood. We’ll need it tonight. Why don’t you come help?”

She looked out the window. “The snow is taller than I am.”

“In some spots the drifts are taller than me, but I still have to get wood.” He shrugged. “Never pegged you for a whiner, Cooke.”

She glared. “I’m not a whiner.”

He stood and turned, biting his cheek. “Could’ve fooled me. Haven’t heard much of anything else since this morning.” He closed her bedroom door behind him, catching the tail end of her mutterings—something about his anatomy. If he knew her, and he was starting to, she would be ready to wade through the drifts by the time he was in his coat and hat. He’d called her a whiner, but she wasn’t by trade. She was just restless and worried and had every right to be.

Tucker opened his closet and pulled his new winter garb from the shopping bags. As he sat on the bed and tied his boots, he craved the palm trees and ocean views of home. The piles of snow were far less exciting than they had been to him and Staci all those years ago. But he was here now, so he would have to make the best of it. Fully dressed, he started down the hall, pulling on his hat and thermal gloves as he walked.

“Wait for me.”

Grinning, he stopped and turned. He definitely had Wren’s number.

She closed her bedroom door and hurried to catch up, dressed like a sexy snow bunny in her new red ski pants and black jacket. “Guess it’s a good thing we went shopping when we did.”

“Guess so.”

She pulled the black warmer over her ears and slid a slick pair of gloves on her hands. “I’m ready.”

Goddamn, he wanted the hell out of her. “Let’s go.” He opened the door to a violent slap of wind and gritted his teeth against the cold. “Looks like we’re going to have some good old-fashioned Utah fun.”

She sent him a doubtful look. “Oh goodie.”

He smiled. “I’ll go first and make a trail.”

“Super. We’ll be just like the pioneers.” She feigned excitement, then rolled her eyes.

He laughed. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a hot ticket, Cooke?”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

“Just step where I step so we can get this over with.” He started into the drifts, sinking once before he made it to the dip where the wind had blown most of the snow away. He glanced behind him and chuckled as Wren fought her way forward. They weren’t even a quarter of a way to the woodpile, and she was already huffing and puffing. “Keep up that pace and we should be back inside by midnight.”

“What’s that phrase Ethan says? Oh right—kiss ass, Campbell.”

Roaring with laughter, he shook his head and turned to concentrate on the next leg of their journey. Luckily, the rest of their trek wouldn’t be quite as bad. The house blocked the remainder of the slope from the worst of the winds.

“Hey, Tucker.”

“Yeah.” He turned and a solid ball of snow thwacked him on his temple—thankfully the one that wasn’t bruised. Blinking, he absorbed the shocking surprise and cold.

Wren burst out laughing, her big bold laugh he would never get enough of, as he stared at her and swiped the worst of the stinging chill away. “What the hell?”

“That was for calling me a whiner.” She tried to pull herself together, but a snort of laughter escaped, and she leaned forward in her mirth. “You should’ve seen your face. It was priceless.” She wiped at her cheeks. “Oh, I think I’m actually crying.”

“Hey, Cooke.”

She glanced up, still chuckling.

“Better run.” He darted toward her as fast as the snow would allow, and she turned, screaming, doing her best to beat him back to the house. He gained on her quickly and tackled her to the ground, laughing.

“Don’t even think about giving me a whitewash!”

“I think a snowball—” A handful of powder blinded him as Wren swiped her glove his way.

She scrambled up, shrieking through her bursts of laughter as he wiped at his eyes and spit away the worst of the latest attack.

“Oh, it’s on now.” He grabbed for her boot and missed, then crawled forward and captured her leg. She fell, and he shimmied up her body, snatching up her wrists, yanking her arms over her head, and lay on top of her. “All’s fair in war, Cooke,” he panted out.

“Be nice,” she puffed, winded, grinning and batting her lashes.

He chuckled. “Sorry, but you have to pay.” He kept her wrists pinned with one hand and used the other to form a sloppy, misshapen ball. “Any last words?”

“Tucker,” she warned, screeching as small chunks of snow fell on her cheeks from the makeshift weapon he moved closer to her face.

“That’s my name.” He chuckled sinisterly and smooshed the ball in the center of her forehead.

She bucked under him and let loose a bloodcurdling scream. “Damn it! That’s cold!”

“Snow usually is.” He grinned down, enjoying himself immensely as he wiped the worst of the mess away.

She struggled to free her arms. “Truce.”

“Oh, now she wants a truce.”

“Yes.” She chuckled. “Very much so.”

“I don’t know. I have you right where I want you.” He pulled off his glove with his teeth and skimmed his fingers along her chilly jaw.

Her smile vanished. “What are you doing?”

She was beautiful, with her gray eyes bright, her cheeks rosy, and her wild black curls spread out over the blinding white. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you, Cooke.”

She struggled to free her hands again. “Let me up.”

He let her hands go but kept her pinned to the ground. “Cooke—”

“I already told you I’m not attracted to you.” She pushed at his chest.

“Bullshit. You were plenty attracted last night.”

“No.” She shoved again, rolled out from under him, and stood. “That was a mistake. Last night was a mistake. That kiss didn’t mean anything.” She walked to the house as quickly as the drifts would allow.

Damned if he was going to let this go. He got to his feet and followed. “Wait a minute.”

She moved faster.

“Hey, Cooke, I’m talking to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to
you
.”

He caught her as she reached for the doorknob and spun her to face him. “Wait.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want to roll around in the sheets, that’s fine. I’ll get over it.”
Maybe.
“But don’t stand here and tell me last night didn’t mean anything. You’re only lying to yourself. There’s something here. There’s something between us whether you like it or not.”

“No.” She tried to pull free.

He yanked her against him. “Yes.”

“No,” she whispered again as she clutched at his jacket.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yes, Wren.” He would say it until she stopped denying what they both already knew.

Her breath shuddered out as they held each other’s gaze. “This can’t happen. I can’t—we can’t…”

She was saying no, but her eyes were saying yes. He couldn’t take it any more. He had to have her. He crushed his lips against hers and dove in, instantly invading her mouth.

She moaned, and her gloved hands were in his hair, bringing him closer.

He reached out, found the doorknob, and twisted. They walked through, still clinging, and he kicked the door shut. Whirling them around, he pressed her to the heavy wood and pulled the warmer from her ears, never taking his mouth from hers. She took off her gloves, tossing them to the floor as he kicked off his boots. He unzipped her jacket, yanking it down her arms, and tossed it aside.

He reluctantly eased back, breath heaving as he tugged at her sweater. He impatiently worked his way through the layers of clothing to get to her soft skin. He’d wanted to touch her for months; now that he could, it wasn’t happening fast enough.

She discarded his jacket and thermal top, casting them aside in between fevered kisses. He pulled her turtleneck off and groaned as he stared at her black bra over her small, firm swells. “My God, Cooke, you’re gorgeous.”

She responded by pulling his mouth back to hers, nibbling and tugging at his bottom lip as she unsnapped his ski pants and eased them over his hips. He shoved them further down and stepped his way out like a marching soldier.

Her eagerness revved him higher, and finally he cupped her breasts through the silk, making her shiver. “I’ve gotta get you out of the rest of these clothes,” he panted, picking her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rushed to the bedroom. Her tongue traced his ear and glided down his neck, driving him crazy.

He opened the door, slamming it behind them, and laid her on the bed. He tugged off her boots, tossed them over his shoulders and made a beeline for the snap on her ski pants. He peeled them off, taking her yoga pants and black lace panties with them. He’d never seen anything so spectacular as Wren mostly naked in the fading sunlight.

“Come here.” She held out her arms, inviting him to her.

He crawled to her and their mouths instantly collided as his hands went on a frantic journey, brushing along her smooth arms, the sides of her slender waist and hips. He pulled at the front clasp of her bra, releasing her beautiful breasts. “Cooke,” he groaned as he touched and traced, then lapped and suckled at her aroused nipples. She arched, whimpering as he inched his way down, kissing her stomach, ready to turn up the heat. He moved to the floor, kneeling by the edge of the bed, and grabbed hold of her legs, yanking her forward and she gasped. He lifted her hips and invaded her with his tongue.

She jerked and moaned, and her thighs contracted. “Tucker. Oh my god, Tucker.”

He’d never heard anything better. He plunged again, and her fingers clutched in his hair as she cried out long and loud, spasming, pouring around him.

Her gasps filled the room as she rode out her orgasm, and he slid his fingers along her hot, wet skin, tracing, exploring the most secret spots of Wren as her stomach clenched and her muscles shuddered with each hurried breath. He continued his discovery, using teasing strokes, waiting for her to come down from the first high.

She relaxed, and her hands slid to the bed. Their eyes locked, then he shoved two fingers deep and used his mouth, revving her up for the second time. Her brows furrowed and she gripped the comforter, arching her back, tipping her head, and went flying. Writhing, bucking, she called for him.

He started his way up, leaving open-mouthed kisses over her hips and waist, between the valley of her breasts, wanting the rest of her. Their gazes met again as she cupped his face, drawing his mouth to hers. The kiss started slow but quickly turned urgent as she slid her palms down his back and clutched his ass through denim.

He ground himself against her, savoring the feel of Wren’s breasts pressed to his chest and the rest of her hot body beneath his. She reached between them, pulled at the snap on his jeans, and unzipped, tugging his clothing past his hips.

He helped her slide his pants off and tossed them to the floor. She stroked him, cool fingers against hot skin, and he hissed out a breath, resting his forehead on hers as a rush of goose bumps covered his skin. He’d wanted this, Wren’s hands all over him, but there was more. “Wren,” he groaned. “I need you.”

She brought his mouth back to hers, and he pushed himself inside her, fisting his hands against the bed as he moved slowly, savoring her hot, tight wetness.

She clutched his shoulders, whimpering as he held her gaze and thrust deep.

She moaned as his movements grew hurried with the urging of her hips. She slid her hands along his sides and her fingers curled against his waist, clutching as her breathing grew rapid. “I’m going to—I’m going to… Oh,
God
.”

He pumped faster, and she stiffened, crying out. He captured her mouth once more as he pushed deeper, consumed by a rush of heat. Grunting, he exploded, falling with her.

Minutes passed while he rested his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her sexy scent while she caressed the skin along the back of his shoulders, and their hearts pounded the same rapid rhythm. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, smiling as he brushed away the damp hair along her forehead. He’d wanted her from the first moment—exactly like this—but never did he imagine it would mean so much. “Cooke, I—”

The wind kicked up with a powerful gust, and they both jumped.

“It’s snowing again,” she said in utter amazement.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Looks like it. Probably will off and on over the next couple days.”

She let loose an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so
much
.”

“Welcome to Utah.”

She smiled as she touched the fading bruise at his temple. “We never got around to the firewood.”

He grinned. “I think we kept each other plenty warm.”

She chuckled. “I can’t argue with you there.”

“I’ll go get enough to get us through tonight.” He kissed her chin, then nibbled. “How about you stay here just like this?”

She smiled again as her fingers wandered to his hair. “How about you get the wood and I’ll make dinner? Ms. Hayes brought more than fresh fruits and vegetables when she stopped by. I think I saw fixings for beef stew.”

“And that’s the beauty of cooking with gas. You’ve got a deal.” He rolled off her, untangling himself from her warm body. “Who needs electricity anyway?”

“
Me
.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

He studied her, watching as she pulled back. Even after what they’d shared, he was going to have to work for her trust. “Hey.” He reached out, gripping her chin between his fingers. “Don’t do that.”