Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

A man who loved her, and refused to admit it. She’d be damned if she would let him deny it any longer.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The front door slammed behind her. “Where is he?” Rick was on the porch, agitation tightening every line in his body as he swung around to her.

“You two are driving me fucking crazy,” he bit out. “What the hell is going on?”

She speared him a furious look. “I’m going to save the stalker the trouble and kill the bastard myself. Right after I fuck his brains out. Now tell me where he went.”

Rick eased back as the hand that carried her gun twitched.

“Heather.” He cleared his throat, but she still caught the edge of humor in his voice. “Maybe you should give me the gun first.”

“Where. Is. He.” Her teeth were gritted, fury and lust surging in equal parts through her body.

Rick blew out a hard breath. “Dammit, Heather, just don’t kill the dumb bastard. We don’t get paid if he dies.”

“Where?” She was tired of arguing with stubborn men.

“He headed for the barn. He’s barefoot though, so I don’t expect him to take a horse out. He dared anyone to follow him, Heather. And he looked mean enough to make it stick.”

“He’s trouble looking to happen,” she snorted furiously. “Expect anything.”

She stepped from the porch.

“Uh, Heather, you’re a bit underdressed,” Rick pointed out.

“Overdressed,” she snarled. “But I’ll take care of that when I find him.”

Thankfully, she had thought to slip her feet into the thin ballet-style house slippers that matched her robe. The thin rubber soles protected her feet from the concrete of the walkway and the rough dirt area in front of the barn and stables. She stalked across the distance, determined to finish this once and for all. She was ready to pack up and leave the ranch for good. Sick to death of the conspiracy and veil of secrecy that bound the brothers together.

They could deal with their pasts however they pleased. She wasn’t a fainting miss. Hell, she had been intrigued by Sam and his brothers from the beginning. But it was Sam that set her body on fire. Sam that kept her in such a state of lustful preparation that she couldn’t keep her mind on her job, or her own protection, let alone his. It was a dangerous line she was treading.

She entered the interior of the barn, stopping as she saw the dim light behind a stack of hay toward the back. She followed him, listening carefully to the shuffle of hay, a muffled curse. She moved purposely around the high bales, then stared at him coldly as he stared up at her from the rough bed he had made in the thick loose hay behind it.

A battery-powered lantern lit the area. A thick blanket was spread over the rough dried grasses, perfectly formed to make a comfortable bed.

“Pouting?” she bit out as she watched him angrily.

“Go back to the house, Heather.” He frowned at her fiercely, and yeah, he looked mean enough to make it stick, but by God if she didn’t feel a whole lot meaner right now.

“Take those sweat pants off.” She pushed the words through gritted teeth, her body so hot, so desperate for release she could barely think coherently.

His dark brows arched in surprise, his gaze flickering to the gun in her hand. Heather didn’t give him time to comment further, or to refuse her. Training could be handy though, she thought as she moved in quickly. Before he could do more than gasp, she was straddling his tight abdomen, her wet pussy flush against his clenching muscles, the gun muzzle beneath his chin, much as it had been Cade’s. She was damned near mad enough to pull the trigger, and the amusement that suddenly lit his eyes did nothing to cool her down.

“Take the sweat pants off,” she gritted out.

“Do you have the safety on?” he asked her, arching his brow as his hips lifted, his hands moved.

“What safety?” she bit out, hissing out a hard breath as his abdomen tightened further, rippled beneath her swollen clit.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned her as he slid the sweat pants away from his hips, then worked his legs until she knew the pants were separate from his hard body.

“I’m so damned hot I am the freaking fire,” she bit out, swallowing tightly as she edged back until she felt the naked tip of his engorged cock nudge between the cleft of her ass.

“Heather.” His hands caught the rounded curves of her butt as she wiggled against the engorged head of his erection. “Baby, please.” His voice stopped her.

She could feel the juices of her pussy leaking to his tight abdomen, his cock nudging at her. She stilled, staring down at him, dying to shift, to bring his thick flesh in line with her hungry cunt.