The Ranger Read online

  “Untie me,” he said hoarsely. “I want to touch you. I need to touch you.”

  She took him in hand, then peeked up at him from between his legs. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m busy.” Then she deliberately took the whole of him into her mouth. There was no timid touching with the tip of her tongue, no tentative lick along the side of his dick.

  She ate him.

  And he’d never seen anything so profoundly sexy in his life.

  Will’s breath left in a startled whoosh and he groaned from deep in his throat. She sucked him, working the hot, slippery skin against her tongue, then wrapped her hand around him and used both to drive him crazy. In and out, up and down, a de liberate swirl of her tongue over his head, then she suckled the sensitive spot—unbeknownst to him—just below his head on the underside of his penis and he came dangerously close to coming right then.

  “Rhiannon,” he growled as the orgasm built force in his loins. “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to—” She cupped his balls, took another long deep pull, simultaneously working her tongue against him, and he completely lost it. “Come.” The word ripped from his throat as the release rocketed from his loins.

  And just as if he was the ice cream cone he’d watched her eat earlier, she licked him up, savoring his essence on her tongue. If anything, she looked as if he tasted better, and the satisfaction of knowing that called to his inner caveman, made him want to drag her by the hair back to his cave and never let her go.

  “Mmm.” She sighed as she finished him off. “That was very good.”

  His laugh bordered on frantic.

  “I hope you don’t need a lot of downtime,” she said as she slowly stroked him again. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

  He instantly hardened once more and shot her a self-satisfied smile. “I’m g-good,” he told her, though it seemed like a vast understatement. He was so much better than good.

  He was fucking fantastic.

  Rhiannon snagged a condom and swiftly rolled it into place, then scaled his body once more. She winced with pleasure as the head of his dick bumped her clit and she slid back and forth along the ridge, coating him in her own juices. She was hot and wet and he set his jaw so hard he could have sworn he felt it crack.

  His eyes almost rolled back in his head and once again the desire to touch her, to taste her breasts made him pull against his restraints. But something about the restriction heightened the experience. She set the pace. She was in control.

  And she was brilliant at it.

  Her dark hair slithered around her shoulders, down over her breasts, playing hide-and-seek with her nipples. Her lips, soft pink and swollen, rose in a sensual half smile and the dark thatch of hair between her thighs as it rested over him was quite possibly the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.

  Gorgeous, he thought, thunderstruck with awe.

  She lifted her hips and then slowly sank onto him, her breath leaking out in a long, slow hiss as though his invasion into her body was somehow pushing it out of her. Her heat completely engulfed him. He instinctively flexed beneath her, pushing up.

  The slight movement made her grin and she rocked forward on him again, up and down, up and down, then bent forward and laved his nipple with her tongue while clamping tightly around him. Who knew? he thought as a flash fire flared down his middle and landed in his groin.

  She leaned back once more, her hands on his chest, and she rode him hard. His arms strained against the bindings as he pushed up into her, bucking to meet her downward thrusts. A low purr built in the back of her throat and he watched her face as she caught the first spark of climax. She chased it, her hips undulating wildly against him, then she reached down and massaged her clit. A mere sweep of her fingers sent her flying over the edge and a low, keening cry ripped from her lungs.

  She tightened hard around him, triggering his own release, and though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, this orgasm was even more powerful than the last. He bucked and shuddered beneath her, every muscle clenched and spent.

  Rhiannon collapsed on top of him, boneless and sated, and he felt her lips press a tender kiss against his chest.

  It was that kiss—that small gesture—that propelled him over the edge of reason, and he felt himself fall, quite irrationally and against his better judgment, in love with her.

  “ARE YOU GOING TO LET ME GO now?” Will wanted to know as she curled up against his chest.

  She smiled against him. “I thought you were my slave.”

  “Yes, but even love slaves need to attend to necessary business.”

  “Damn.” She sighed. “Can’t you just hold it?”

  He chuckled. “Rhiannon.”

  She loved the way he said her name in his low and husky voice. “Oh, all right,” she said, sitting up reluctantly. “Any chance you’ll let me put you right back?”

  She freed his left arm first and he winced as he stretched it out. “No.”

  “I thought as much.” She worked to free the second wrist. “But you seemed to enjoy yourself. I mean, if multiple orgasms are any indication,” she added wryly.

  The minute he was released, he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her to the bed, stretching her arms up and over her head. “How do you like it?”

  “A little rough, as you know,” she said silkily, reaching up to lick his throat.

  “No,” he admitted, then shuddered. “Jeez, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Let’s hope not,” she murmured. She lifted her hips suggestively against him. “That would be a tragedy.”

  Another gratifying growl vibrated against her lips. “Let’s shower,” he said. “I want to lather you up and watch the soap bubbles slide over your ass.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  He nuzzled her neck, then nosed his way down until he could pull her nipple into his mouth. Wicked sensation whipped through her. “I like the way you taste,” he said. “I could easily get addicted. Or become a glutton.”

  She could, too, Rhiannon thought as her toes curled into the sheets. And it utterly terrified her. She’d never had any interest in light bondage before, in tying anyone up, and yet she’d wanted control over him, had wanted him to bend to her will and let her have her way with him. There was more going on here than she was willing to admit, most especially to herself. She would acknowledge only that she was seriously besotted with him.

  Besotted was a safe word. Anything else…was not.

  He tugged her toward the bathroom, adjusted the tap and then followed her in.

  Hot water, equally hot man, wonderful naked wet skin…

  “Mmm, this is nice,” she said as Will filled a washcloth with her soap and rubbed it over her shoulders.

  “I love the way this stuff smells,” he said. “I’ll never look at another orange and not think of you.”

  She grinned, then turned so that he could wash her chest. “I’ll never look at another piece of rope and not think of you.”

  “You’re wicked.”

  “Yes…but you like it.”

  “I do.” He sighed as though he found the knowledge mystifying.

  He turned her around and carefully placed both of her hands on the shower wall. “I don’t have any rope in here, but do you think you could just stand here like this for me? Without moving?”

  A breath stuttered out of her lungs. “I’ll try.”

  He ran his hands down her arms, then slowly over her rib cage, casually brushing the sides of her breasts. He continued downward, licking the flute of her spine along the way.

  Her legs shook.

  He palmed her rump, kissed the twin indentations above her rear, then slowly skimmed her thighs. On the return trek, he pushed his hands around to her front, slipping his fingers over her mound, dipping between her folds, then upward until he held both of her breasts.

  Her hands fisted against the shower wall, but she didn’t move them. He bent his head and nipped at her neck, the sensitive
place where throat met shoulder, and she felt a rush of longing sweep through her. The air was heavy with steam and he was hot and warm at her back and suddenly nothing else mattered. Everything in her world seemed to shift until everything past, present or future was tied to this moment.

  He nudged her legs farther apart with his foot, then ducked beneath her arms and kissed his way down her body. He stopped at her sex and though she knew what was coming, she was not prepared for the shock of sensation that burst through her when his fingers parted her curls and his hot tongue laved her clit.

  Another tremor made her knees quake and her hands slipped farther down the wall, but didn’t leave it.

  Then he buried his mouth in her sex, suckling, laving, licking, tormenting her until she was certain she wasn’t going to be able to remain on her feet, much less stay anchored to the wall. He slipped a finger deep inside her, hooked it around and massaged a secret spot.

  She gasped and locked her knees to keep them in place.

  “Will, I can’t—”

  “Oh, but you will.” He chuckled against her. “I did for you. You can for me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. I don’t know—”

  He tented his tongue over her clit and pressed hard, stroking it back and forth, then wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling down. Melting. Disintegrating. Flying apart.

  Another skillful sweep of his tongue and a bit of pressure deep inside and she was beating the shower wall with her fist as the orgasm swept her under. She cried out, her voice hoarse and mangled, then literally sagged against him.

  Before she could catch her breath, he was suddenly behind her, nudging her folds.

  Then he froze and a hot oath fired from between his lips. “I left the condoms in the bedroom.”

  Oh, hell, no. She needed him inside her. Felt as if she couldn’t breathe unless he filled her up again.

  “I’m clean and on the pill. You?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what the hell are you waiting for? Get inside me.”

  The exquisite sensation of him—just him—inside of her made unexpected tears prick the backs of her eyes. He felt so good. So perfect. So unbelievably right.

  He growled a low purr of masculine satisfaction and his hands bit into her hips. “You are—” He released a shuddered breath as he stilled inside her, seemingly prolonging the moment, observing the event for what it was—flawless. “There aren’t words to describe how good you feel to me right now.”

  He withdrew, then pushed back in.

  “I know that f-feeling.”

  Pushed again, withdrew, a mindless seek and retreat that impossibly made her quicken again.

  She could feel the tension building in her sex with every skillful stroke of him deep inside her and she lifted her foot and set it on the lip of the tub to give him better access.

  He growled and rubbed his hands greedily over her ass, thrust again and again, then carefully pressed his thumb against the rosebud of her bottom.

  The sensation was so incredible she heard a loud gasp hiss through the shower and realized it was her own.

  “That’s…wicked.”

  “But you like it,” he said, tossing the words back at her, and she could hear the self-satisfied smile in his voice.

  He pressed harder, upped the tempo and angled deeper. Three crushing plunges later, she shattered.

  Sound receded, everything went black and white, then suddenly flared into Technicolor focus. She screamed and her nails scraped down the shower wall. A moment later he joined her, his guttural groan alerting her to his impending climax as he pushed in one final time and locked himself in place as though he wanted to permanently cement himself there.

  And as the final vestiges of release pulsed through her, she let her hands fall away from the wall…and she let go of that figurative cliff face she’d been clinging to, as well, allowing herself to plummet into that terrifying place she’d never wanted to be.

  In love.

  Will pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sleep with me,” he said.

  She did.

  13

  “YOU’RE THE SECOND PERSON who has come by today and wanted to see those old records,” the petite lady told them when Will asked to look at the microfiche. “They’re still out,” she complained, frowning. “The gentleman—who told me he was a librarian, as well—didn’t even bother to put them away. He rushed out of here as if his pants were on fire and hollered an apology.”

  Will’s gaze swung to Rhiannon’s and before he could utter a word, she was already firing questions at the woman. “What was he looking at? How long ago did he leave?”

  The librarian flinched back at the intensity in Rhiannon’s voice and darted a startled look in his direction.

  “It’s important that we find him,” Will said. “He’s unwell.”

  Not exactly a lie. He was diabetic.

  She frowned knowingly. “Yes, I could tell that,” she told them. “Had to get him a glass of water. The poor man had broken out into a clammy sweat.”

  The panic in Rhiannon’s eyes tore at him.

  “Oh, Will,” she moaned, her voice cracking. “I knew this. I knew something was wrong. I’ve had a terrible feeling about it for days now.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t psychic.”

  “I’m not, but I know when something is wrong,” she repeated impatiently. She leaned across the counter to the woman. “How long ago did he leave? This is really important.”

  The librarian glanced at the clock and fretted as she tried to work it out. “A couple of hours ago,” she said. “Maybe longer.”

  “Can you show me what he was looking at?”

  “Right this way,” she said. “Follow me.”

  They were escorted to another dim airless room, where a single book lay on the table. Rhiannon crossed the room quickly and scanned the documents, her gaze darting across the page. It suddenly stopped and she gasped.

  “Here it is,” she breathed. “Winston Watson. Oh, he was only three,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Where was he interred?”

  “Creekside Cemetery.” She glanced up at the older woman. “Do you know where this is?”

  She shook her head. “Your friend asked the same question and I gave him the same answer, honey. I’m sorry.”

  Will quickly nodded at the woman and propelled Rhiannon toward the exit. “We’ll stop and ask until we find it,” he told her.

  Neither clerk at the first two convenience stores was helpful, but they finally got lucky when they stopped at a local feed and seed store. A couple of old-timers argued over the exact whereabouts long enough to make Rhiannon’s face flush with irritation, but finally agreed on the location and passed along the directions.

  “How long should it take to get there?” she asked them.

  “’Bout fifteen, twenty minutes,” one said. “The sign is gone and it’s a far piece off the road, so you’ll need to keep your eyes open. That’s an old one. Not too many people buried there, either.”

  “I’d like to be buried there,” the other one remarked.

  “Oh, shut up, Marvin. Charlene’s already bought your plot at Morningside.”

  Marvin frowned. “How do you know that?”

  The other man grinned. “Because I sold her the burial insurance.”

  Marvin harrumphed. “Didn’t know she had any.”

  While they continued to discuss their impending funeral arrangements, Will and Rhiannon hurried back to the Jeep. She tapped her toes impatiently against the floorboard and her mouth was set in a flat, worried line.

  “We’ll find him.”

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “He would have called me by now.”

  “He might not have a signal.”

  She gazed out the window, a line of worry furrowing her brow. “He’s had time to get back into town, Will.”

  He silently agreed, but was playing devil’s advocate to try to distract her.
“His battery could be dead.”

  “Stop it,” she said. “I know what you’re doing. You’re worried, too. Don’t try to pretend with me, please.” She softened her statement with a wan smile.

  He reached over and took her hand. “Forgot. Sorry.”

  And though it seemed bizarre, he had forgotten about her talent. Had she picked up on his feelings last night? Will wondered. Had she been able to tell that she’d gone from someone he couldn’t resist to someone he suspected he couldn’t live without?

  A sense of dread settled in his chest as he raced toward what he instinctively knew was the end of this mission. They were going to find Theo today, if not right now, and for the first time Will stopped to consider the impact that was going to have on their present situation.

  Mission accomplished. Rhiannon would no doubt insist on driving Theo home, so there would be no point in him hanging around. He would go directly back to Atlanta. Without her.

  To a job that might or might not be his when he told them what had happened.

  And he would have to tell them. His conscience wouldn’t permit anything less. Regardless of what would happen with her, they still had the right to know that he’d done more than step over the line—he’d ignored it completely.

  He peeked at her and wondered what she was thinking. Had her thoughts turned to their inevitable goodbye or was she so preoccupied with finding her mentor that she hadn’t even considered what this would mean for them?

  For the first time in his life he wished he had some sort of special psychic ability, because he would dearly love to know what was going on in her head. She had to have picked up on how he felt about her—he knew it. She was too perceptive to have missed the change. To have missed his revelation.

  But did that affect her? Did she still want something casual? Was she still happy with the status quo? Or like her, had he become her exception?

  Tension coiled in his muscles with every rotation of the tires against the pavement, with every mile that put them closer and closer to the end of this journey.