Taming the Lone Wolff. Janice Maynard
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“It’s not what you think.”
“What am I supposed to think?”
“Damn it, Winnie.” He stopped, ground his jaw and stared at the floor. Finally he spoke in a voice that sounded like rough steel. “I find you attractive. That complicates things.” His eyes were impossible to read in the harsh shadows.
Suddenly the oxygen in the shed evaporated. “Is that the truth?” Her heart pounded in her chest. Danger. Danger. Danger.
“Why on earth would I lie?”
His shocking candor made her want to be brave. And that desire gave encouragement to the long-suppressed yearnings of Bad Winnie. Here was a man she wanted. And he wanted her. Reluctantly, but still…Her heart raced. “I find you attractive, too, Larkin,” she whispered. “Very. Attractive, I mean.” Daringly, she reached out and traced the curve of one of his sculpted biceps. His skin was warm to the touch. Though the night was cool, Larkin was wearing a short-sleeve polo shirt that stretched to accommodate his hard, taut body.
His stood rigid as she ran her fingers from his shoulder to his elbow. Arousal sang through her veins and urged her on. Her gaze settled on his lips. Being a good girl all the time was no fun at all. Desperately, she wanted to taste him. But at what cost?
Larkin shuddered when she used her thumb to trace the bend of his arm. “God help me,” he groaned. “This can’t happen.”
“What?” She couldn’t make sense of anything. Not now. Not in the middle of the night when the world seemed strange and conducive to madness.
“This.”
He yanked her into his arms, his big body enfolding her smaller one like a warm blanket. She felt his taut rib cage, noted the ridge of his belt buckle digging into her skin, heard the shallow rasp of his breathing. His mouth took hers unapologetically. No buildup, no foreplay. Just a raw desperation that layered confusion upon desire and dragged a whimper from her starved lungs.
When she communicated her need to breathe, he moved his attention to her throat, her collarbone. Her sleepwear consisted of a silky camisole and thin knit boxer shorts. When one of his big thighs pressed between her legs, her knees wobbled. He held her with one hard arm across her back as he ravaged her fevered skin.
“Larkin…”
“Hmm…”
“I thought I was the only one.”
“God no.” His teeth grazed her nipple.
She jerked, struggling to get closer, or maybe to get away. Who knew? Her hands found their way to the back of his head. Playing with the short hair at his nape, she felt reality dissolve in sheer, animalistic hunger. “I don’t even know you.”
His laugh held little humor. “We’re getting closer by the second. Shut up and kiss me.”
Obeying seemed like the best course of action. One of his hands had found its way down inside the elastic waistband of her sleep shorts and caressed her bare bottom. “You’re so damned soft,” he groaned. He squeezed her ass cheek.
She felt his arousal, huge and hard at her belly. With a house full of delightful bedrooms at her disposal, she was chagrined to find herself searching wildly for a horizontal surface in the tiny enclosure filled with potting soil and manure.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” she groaned.
At that instant, a two-way radio in Larkin’s pocket generated static as a disembodied voice intruded. “Hey, boss. Where are you?”
Larkin froze. A heartfelt curse echoed her own sentiments. He released her so abruptly she stumbled. “I’m behind the house,” he said, the words terse. “Don’t move. I’ll come find you.”
The radio went silent. Winnie hated the harsh glare of the unadorned overhead lightbulb. She felt naked, exposed. Larkin looked nothing like a romantic hero. His tight expression fell halfway between sexually frustrated and pissed.
“Well, this is awkward,” she said, attempting humor to dislodge the giant boulder crushing her chest. “I’ll leave you to it.” Her eyes stung with tears she would never in a million years allow to fall. Larkin was a guy. He’d grabbed her half-clothed body, and the predictable had happened. End of story.
He didn’t have to know that such raw passion was foreign to her. That it had been years since she had felt more than a mild interest in the opposite sex. That he was the first man in a decade to coax her into bestowing her trust.
Grabbing the chain in a wild attempt to disguise her chaotic emotions, she plunged the shed into darkness and slipped out the door. Larkin was right on her heels, his breath hot on her neck. “Not so fast, Winnie. We have to talk.”
Her choked laugh held more than a hint of hysteria. “Isn’t that my line?”
He shook her gently. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Wow. The pain that statement invoked was far out of proportion to the fact that she had met this man only a day ago. “Well, we’re even, then,” she said, her words deliberately flip. “I shouldn’t have kissed you either.” Unable to hold her tears at bay despite her best efforts, she fled.
Larkin let her go. He’d botched this job so badly he was amazed she hadn’t fired him on the spot. First he’d overlooked the glaringly obvious fact that his new boss expected to be consulted at every level. And then he’d compounded his gaffe by kissing her senseless. Good Lord…
Remembering the feel of her in his arms hardened his sex to the point of pain. Hunger raged in his veins even now. Had his employee not intruded, Larkin would have lifted Winnie into his arms and taken her standing up. The rush of crazed passion was something he hadn’t experienced since his hormonal college days.
But Winnie was no sorority girl looking to add notches to her bedpost. She was a fascinating, complicated woman. A female for whom he felt a visceral, inexplicable need. Such wild emotion was not to be trusted. He was being paid to keep her and her flock safe. In those brief moments when he’d kissed her and felt her small, perfect body meld to his, he’d had no thought at all for his job.
The realization stunned him. Was he kidding himself about his reasons for suggesting Wolff Mountain as a hidey-hole? He no longer allowed any woman to influence his decisions. At least not since his little sister married Sam. Larkin, for the first time in his life, felt free.
So why complicate his life?
Without warning, he stubbed his toe on an unseen rock in the grass. The dull pain shocked him back to reality. Screw self-examination. Taking Winnie to the mountain was expedient and well thought out. It had nothing to do with sex.
An hour later, with his crew safely on alert and all initial summations complete, Larkin strode back up the lawn toward Winnie’s house. He already knew which windows were hers, and they were dark. He let himself in, locked the doors and moved wearily up the stairs, his tread virtually silent. In the upstairs hallway, he paused, his hand on the doorknob to his room.
Why had she kissed him back? Had she merely been humoring him? Or was she starved for male companionship? She poured her heart and soul into her cause. Did that leave any time for relationships? Her fire and boldness in the shed had surprised him and made it much more difficult to stop thinking about her in inappropriate ways.
He showered rapidly, not wanting to think of who and what lay so close at hand. If he went to her room, would she welcome him?
Beneath the covers, he sprawled naked and still damp, waiting for the thundering of his heartbeat to calm so he could sleep. Suddenly, the idea of taking her to Wolff Mountain seemed fraught with pitfalls. He knew the correct angle to take with Winnie. Practical and businesslike. If he allowed himself to break his own personal rules, he would only end up hurting her.
Larkin had no plans for matrimony. Ever. He’d seen a dysfunctional marriage close at hand, and it