Billi Jean (6 page)

“I wasn’t leaving. I wasn’t. I promise. I never would leave. Please, a call. I promise. I never lie, never lie to you.” Her soft Russian accent made him soften his anger. She only let her British accent go when she was upset. He hated that she was upset. Crying.

“Who? Who were you calling?”

“My sister.”

No hesitation. He took the hood off completely and stared down at her, still angry but slowly able to think more clearly. He needed to come again. If he came again, he would think more clearly. His dick was throbbing and needing more.

“Suck me off.” It wasn’t a request, and she knew it.

Sniffing, she nodded slightly, still cautious with him.

Good. This was good. She would bring him clarity. He needed clarity. He had a target to find and take out.

Cupping her face, he took her mouth, showing her who was in charge before breaking the kiss. “Say it again.”

Pink lips quivering under him, she did. “I love you, Eric. Please, I never want to be parted from you.”

He nodded, not having heard this before either. She was his. She was his and knew it. Could she still need him? “You’re mine. I don’t want you calling them again.”

She sniffed but nodded. A tear leaked out.

“Say it, Mara, convince me. I don’t believe you love me.”

Something like shock filled her beautiful eyes, then more tears. Her face screwed up tight and she sobbed. “No, no, I love you. You’re my everything…everything good…everything good in my life, Eric.”

He softened. Every ounce of anger dimmed. She wasn’t faking. She never had been. He knew she loved him—he was her everything. She grew more upset, worrying him enough that he gentled her with a soft whisper and untied her arms.

Immediately she clung to him, sobbing and so upset she was going to make herself sick. Her arms tightened desperately around his neck. He could feel her tears along his shoulder. Warmth momentarily filled his chest. She loved him. She was his. Her family would remain a problem.

“No more calls, Mara.” He rubbed her hair and shifted her on his lap, untying her legs with one hand. “No more of this.”

“No more… No more, I promise.” Tear-drenched green eyes met his when he tipped her face to meet her eyes.

She was his. “Stop crying now. You and I have to take care of things.” He shifted her so she felt every inch of his cock.

She blinked and shuddered in a breath. “You still want me?”

Want her? Cupping her face, he kissed the salty tears, feeling his heart swell. “I want you. Now, show me how much you want me.”

Mara nodded, and the slow, shy smile he’d dreamed of on too many nights made an appearance. He should still punish her, he knew, but she was his. He’d take care of this family, and then she would be
all
his.

“Beg for it.”

“Please let me…suck you off.”

His erection pulsed, painful and ready for her sucking mouth.

Yes, he’d forgive her. Maybe find this sister and kill her. And this mother and father that dared to draw her from him.

First this, then the woman the Russians wanted guarantees was dead. Then, he’d take care of his life with Mara so that no one else could ever interfere.

Chapter Five

Russ could admit he was becoming a bit obsessed with Susan Fielding. She was like a sore tooth a tongue rubs against, even when one knows one shouldn’t. It didn’t help that he drove past her place to get to town. Or maybe it did. At least he had a chance to spot her.

He could barely remember the taste of her soft lips. She’d been so warm in his arms. But she was a difficult woman to corral.

For someone new to town, she sure was busy. So far he’d seen her out to lunch with Irene twice, at the hardware store three times, and at the little market half a dozen times. Each time, as soon as he’d managed to haul his truck into the parking lot, she’d pulled hers out. He felt like they were playing cat and mouse.

He wanted a lot more than to play with her. He wanted to catch her and…well, do things he’d never considered before. He dreamed of her every night. Not simply rolling around in her bed until they were both exhausted, but marking her as his so everyone, from the young punk at the hardware store to any Tom, Dick or fucking Harry, knew she was taken. By him. But that was in his dreams.

Reality was a tough son of a bitch. Reality said he was a long way from even rolling in bed with her. Susan Fielding thought he was nothing more than some flirt. A
flirt
. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles popped. He sank further in his seat and leaned an elbow out of his open truck window while he tried to relax his cramped muscles.

Yep, Susan Fielding was one tough little thing. She’d told Irene over lunch that he was a big flirt and got around way too much with the women.
What the hell?
didn’t even cover it.

He didn’t even know how to flirt, did he? Well, by Susan’s response, he’d say no. She even had him questioning himself. He didn’t flirt with women. He didn’t even buy them drinks. Women always came to him. They bought
him
drinks. Well, they had when he’d still been down at the base. And that usually got them what they both wanted. Sex. He had been good to them. He’d always been careful to see to a woman’s pleasure as well as his own—even if it was a one-night stand, he’d tried to make it good for them. Sometimes he’d hooked up twice, but never more.

He’d never wanted more. Now? He wanted more. It felt like he
needed
more. More than simply sex. He wanted to see Susan smile, listen to her life story, find out what made her seem so happy. But, yeah, he was a man. He wanted to see her cry out when he made her climax eight or nine times.

Russ snorted, remembering the things he’d fantasised about doing to her. He had it bad. This wasn’t going to be some all-night sex, maybe followed by a morning dip before he left. Not with her. He needed about thirty-six hours of straight sex. Hard, hot, heavy and wet. And then? Then he was certain he’d need more. And he needed it right now. His hard-on hurt. A man couldn’t think clearly in this condition, and hell if he didn’t feel like a major dick for jacking off remembering how soft her lips had been in that too brief kiss at the hardware store. Like he was disrespecting a friend’s daughter or some shit like that. He didn’t examine that bit too closely—he couldn’t. If he did, he might decide he needed to date her and not have sex for months—while he did what? Whatever dim-witted men did to win a girl like Susan, he supposed.

He had it bad. Could he manage another day of this? He’d fought an erection all night. Even jacking off hadn’t tamed the boy down.

He hadn’t been this edgy since a terrorist cell had been an inch away from cleaning his clock in Afghanistan. He’d lost four good men in that fire-fight. Four good, solid men. He’d been so pumped on adrenaline, and, finally seeing a woman who had all four limbs, a face and a willing body, he hadn’t taken a breather from straight sex for days. He wasn’t even sure of the woman’s name now. Some older woman he’d let pick him up at a dive outside the base. That was the closest he’d ever been to being this bad.

But hit on women? He never even paid women any mind, unless he was on leave and horny. And, shit, he was a man; men were always horny, right? He sure didn’t hit on women as often as his dick demanded. He’d been horny for months and not gone to the trouble of finding a willing woman. He frowned as the thought settled over him. The truth hit hard enough to make him tense up. He’d not had sex since moving up here. Well, maybe he’d been a bit off his game, but that was all.

Watching the rolling hills pass by his truck, he stretched his legs and shifted on his seat. Life had a way of knocking a person down one too many times. He simply hadn’t known what he wanted. Now he knew. And wouldn’t you know it? What he wanted thought he was some kind of loser, hitting on all the women. Because of one kiss in a hardware store?

He didn’t have a clue how to pursue a woman. He was from a man’s world. He’d served with men. He’d fought side by side with men for years. And now? He worked on a ranch, surrounded by more men. Women weren’t really a factor in his life, and he sure never flirted with
women
, as in plural. Oh, he was making a play for Susan, but not for some quick tumble. From Susan he wanted a great deal more. What exactly he wanted, he wasn’t quite sure. But he wanted it.

His stomach knotted as he took the curve in the road that led down to her house. Her truck wasn’t parked in the driveway. Didn’t she ever stay home? He sat up straighter and considered where she might be at this early hour. Maybe the grocery store. Women got up early for that shit, didn’t they? He exhaled heavily and headed down to town. Maybe he’d catch her buying food and he could suggest dinner out or something easy like that.

Frowning at the thought, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She might think he was coming on too strong if he did. Maybe he had been too forward with the kiss, but she’d been so damned hot. She’d smelt so good and that recruit, Bud, had been staring at her ass as if he’d had a chance of touching it. It’d been all Russell could do to only kiss her once and not drag her into something a lot hotter.

How did a man fight a misperception? He was trying here, and the ache in his groin was a killer motivation to speed things up a bit. He could be patient. He knew he could. Maybe with time Susan would see he wasn’t a flirt. He could do patience. He’d been a Goddamn sniper, for Christ’s sake. He could crouch down in the hot sun, not moving more than an inch every thirty minutes, and wait for three days in the blazing heat for his shot.

And now, when patience might actually be useful? He felt like he’d used up a limited supply. He felt desperate to secure Susan. Now. Not in a day. Or a week. Or even two months. He knew a great guy from another team who’d gone months dating a little nurse down in Oklahoma. The guy hadn’t scored a thing for all that time. Was that even physically possible at this point?

He shifted his legs to ease the ache in his groin and exhaled wearily. He supposed so. Simply thinking of all that creamy skin and those big, blue eyes made him want to be with her right now, hold her close and breathe in her scent.

And there she was. He had to force his hands not to jerk the truck over the kerb so he could get into the parking lot before
her
truck left.

Slow down, big boy. Down.
He yanked the truck door open and raked a hand through his hair as soon as he’d made certain her truck was empty. Chilly air helped tamp down the simmer he had going on, but a panicky feeling settled in his gut.

He headed towards the store and hauled the door open in a daze. Think. She thought he was a big jerk, some kind of womanising redneck. Well, cool and calm might work. Shit, could he even do that? Exhaling, he ran a hand through his hair again and shook off his unease. He was a Goddamn Navy SEAL. He could do this.

Maybe he should ask her out for coffee. Or lunch? Or maybe she would like to come up to the ranch. His heartbeat hit a hundred and eighty. He had no idea if she even drank coffee or liked horses or even ate lunch.

“Why, Major Ryland, good morning.”

God, she sounded so damned teasing. Were all beautiful women like this? A creamy beige skirt hugged every inch of her from just above her sexy knees, all the way up to meet a silky green top under a small, beige, feminine jacket. High heels with a thin strap across the small ankles completed the sexy-as-hell outfit. And, of course her hair was down her back, one side hooked behind her tiny ear in a casual style.

He blinked to clear his head, then had to clear his throat, and thank God he’d kept his jacket on, because his dick was not going down. He gritted his back teeth at how tight it felt against his zipper.

“Russell, and good morning, Ms Fielding.” Correcting her had become second nature now, but maybe Sunshine had been too much. And why was she dressed up? And why did she insist on calling him that? He wanted to hear her call him Russell, or Russ, even. No one called him Russell or Russ. Ace, Major, Major Ryland, Ryland, but not Russ and never Russell.

Her smile slipped, and she blinked before busting out in another pretty laugh. “Ms Fielding?” She pursed those pink lips and shook her head up at him. “You are too much.”

“Here we are; try this one.” Dave, the owner, operator and chief-in-charge of Dave’s Hardware strode up with some kind of lock in his hand. Another lock? Had she had trouble with the first one? And why need another one anyway? Hadn’t the house come with a top of the line security system?

“Ah, great. So, you were going to show me the back of it?” Susan sounded hesitant, even a bit uncertain, which was new. The woman always looked so active and happy. Other than the first day, he’d not seen anything but a grin on her face.

Now, a lock made her look worried? Her small fingers played with her hair, tucking it back behind the shell of her ear. He wanted to kiss her there, right behind her ear where he just knew she’d be sensitive.

Dave gave her a blank look. She tilted her head and waited. Dave was not the most gentle of men, but that look got him to do what she’d asked.

Pointing to the lock he’d set on the counter, Dave said, “Now, see this? This is the front locking mechanism. The back goes this way—”

“Oh, no!” Susan startled Dave with a laugh and covered her mouth, her blue eyes widening in surprise over her hand. “I think…oh, I am so sorry! I think I put it in upside down. That’s why the lock wasn’t working.” She grumbled the last as if it was the lock’s fault.

Russell coughed to hide a laugh and got a quick, blue-eyed glare. And, of course, that brought his dick to attention.

“Yeah, that’ll do it every time. Doors are tricky that way.” Dave blinked and slowly grinned.

Susan shook her head slowly. “Tricky is not what I would call it. I worked on that thing”—she gave the lock a dirty look—“for a few hours.” She picked the lock up and turned it around. “I think I got it inside out, too.”

Dave grinned even more at that, then wiped his mouth with a hand and nodded. “Yeah? That’s too bad. Now, what you need is—”