Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

The razor thin cuts had been just deep enough to ensure that scars remained, but not so deep as to maim. Barely visible now, but easily felt. He ran his hand over his abdomen, feeling the roughness of the flesh there, the scars he carried himself. If he went further, he would feel those on his cock.

He closed his eyes then, fighting the sick rolling of his stomach, the guilt and shame and never-ending knowledge that his violent refusal of Marcelle’s advances had resulted in months of horror for not just himself, but his brothers as well. A refusal that had changed all their lives forever.

He propped his elbow on the doorframe and rubbed his forehead over his arm. Thinking of the past sickened him. The smell of blood, semen and tears drifted through his memories as agony pierced his soul. He clenched his teeth, fighting the dark visions that drifted through his mind.

For the most part, he had blocked the memories. Unlike Cade and Brock, he had somehow managed to dim the brutal clarity of what had happened. For a time. Now they seemed to be returning with a vengeance, and not just in the form of nightmares. In the form of bloody flashbacks and twisted expressions of death.

He shook his head, feeling the moisture that chilled his flesh as a cold sweat enveloped his body. He raised his head, blinking as he stared out at the moon-shadowed landscape of the ranch and fought for answers.

“Where are you?” he whispered bleakly. “And what the hell do you have planned now?”

“I’m sure he’ll let us know soon.” The soft, feminine voice had him jerking the curtains closed and turning to the connecting door.

She stood there, framed by the soft light from her room, red hair gleaming from the backlight, her expression shadowed.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” He frowned as he checked to be certain the curtains were closed securely and that there was no chance prying eyes could see her. She had been attacked because of his attraction to her, his affection for her. He couldn’t take the chance that the violence against her would escalate.

“Cade didn’t tell you?” She stepped farther into the room, her slender body moving languidly in the dim light. “He thought it would be safer for me to sleep up here rather than downstairs. Personally, I think I’m starting to cramp family time down there.”

She smiled as she said the words, but he heard the vein of hurt in her voice. She knew…knew he had been with Sarah and Marly, knew he had gone to them when he continued to refuse to go to her.

“I won’t make excuses…”

“Do I ask you for excuses, Sam?” She tilted her head as she watched him. “You explained it to me pretty clearly the first time. I don’t have a hold on you, so it’s none of my business…” She paused. “Right?”

Sam watched her broodingly. If only she knew. Unfortunately, telling her would only add to his problems.

“Yeah. Right,” he grunted as he turned away from her. “Fine, you’re in the room beside me. Keep the door closed, ignore my snoring and we’ll get along fine.”

Now he could only pray she could ignore the nightmares. Somehow he had a feeling that was wishful thinking at its height.

“So you snore?” She walked farther into the room, as though she owned the place, Sam thought.

“Loudly.” He tried to ignore the fact that she plopped on his bed and watched him expectantly as he stared back at her.

“Fine.” She shrugged. “I’ll ignore your snoring, you ignore my vibrator buzzing.”

He blinked. His heart damned near shot out of his chest, it thundered so hard, and his cock was fully erect and throbbing no sooner than the words were out of her mouth. Damn her, she didn’t play fair.

“Son of a bitch!” He raked his fingers roughly through his hair as he stared at her in amazement. “You’re a virgin.”

“So?” She was laughing at him. He could hear the amusement in her voice, the mockery. “Even virgins get horny, Sammy.”

She scooted back on the bed, crossing her legs like a damned pretzel as she propped her chin on her fist and watched him.

“Aren’t you on duty or something?” If she didn’t get out of his damned bed he wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions. The thought of that vibrator was killing him.

“Nope. I just came off duty. Everything’s quiet and calm for now so I thought I’d come see if you needed to be tucked into bed or something.”

Or something, definitely, he thought heatedly. Less than two hours ago he had climaxed until he wanted to scream with the pleasure, and now he was dying to touch Heather, to take her, to hear her cries echoing around him. To possess her in a way she could never imagine. A way he knew she could never accept.

Then he stopped. Had she heard? Did she know it was her name he cried out as he pumped his semen deep inside Sarah’s body?

“Where were you earlier?” He couldn’t stop the question. Couldn’t stop the need to know.

“I wasn’t watching, if that’s what you want to know.” The amusement was gone from her voice. “I was tucked nice and safe in the camper, hon, so you don’t have to worry.”

He heard the hurt, the lingering question in her voice, and fought to ignore it.