Caine's Reckoning

“You can play as soon as you get warm.”

That pulled her up short. He wanted her comfortable? He hadn’t finished the sentence before he was shrugging out of his shirt, taking his support away as he removed his arms from the sleeves. She just stared at him as she pointed out the truth. “But you’ll be cold.”

He lifted his eyebrow at her as if she’d said something totally ludicrous. His “I’ve been cold before” wrapped around her along with the shirt, enfolding her in the soft, warm wool and the knowledge that he was worried about her comfort. He was a very strange man.

She caught the edges before it could slip from her shoulders. She took a cautious breath. Threading through the faint smell of sweat and horse came that uniquely intriguing scent she associated only with him. Beneath her determination, the girl she’d used to be struggled for attention.

She squashed her flat. She couldn’t afford to kill off this opportunity with idealistic moments. Caine was a man, and she was a woman. What was going on here was a bargain as old as time. Just because she wasn’t hating it didn’t change anything.

Her knees bent with the security she found in this up-front, honest negotiation. “Then I guess it will be up to me to warm you up.”

On the way down, she couldn’t help but admire his form. She’d never seen a naked man on this side of forty, and Caine was a very well-made man. The bulge of his pectorals curved to the broad ridges of his abdominal muscles. His shirt hem brushed her calves, sending a shiver of unfamiliar sensation up her spine as she followed that thin valley between his stomach muscles with her lips counting the hills on either side as she went. One, two, three. The well of his navel tempted her tongue to linger, and flick. The inhalation of his breath proved an incentive to tease.

The gap that spread between the waistband of his pants and his flesh became an invite to explore. She caught the faint line of hair that started below, trapping a strand in her teeth, tugging it instinctively, smiling when he sucked in a harsh breath. He wasn’t so different after all.

Caine’s hand cupped her skull, once again applying that subtle direction she was coming to expect. She opened her mouth, pressing a hot kiss to the hard flesh of his abdomen, tracing a scar with her tongue until the smooth center ended just to the left of his navel in a rough pucker of healed flesh.

Thumbs under her chin pressed back, putting an inch between her mouth and his stomach, but never surrendering control, holding her in place for his pleasure. “Unbutton my pants.”

She reached for the gun belt, flicking her tongue over her lips as she did, feeling his gaze as intently as a touch, the ache in her nipples a foreign, distracting sensation she pushed aside. “Leave the guns,” he said, surprising her. She glanced up. He was staring at her with eyes gone dark with passion and something else she couldn’t define. “They might come in handy.”

She didn’t know whether to be comforted or dismayed he was still so aware of their location and the risk.

It was harder to get his pants undone with the heavy weight of the guns dragging on the belt, but he didn’t fuss or swear, just waited patiently, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as she wrestled with the task. Around them the grass rustled with the passing breeze and birds chirped in a soothing melody she clung to, not understanding nor trusting the undercurrents that made this time feel so different.

She finally got the top two buttons undone. The next three relinquished the battle with an eagerness that reflected the increase in Caine’s respiration, the only indication beyond his engorged cock she had that he was aroused. His stoicism annoyed her on some deeply feminine level she didn’t begin to understand.

His hands left her cheeks just long enough to lower his pants the inches she needed to free his cock. And they definitely needed to lower. The thick shaft was too hard and too long just to pull out. A minute of expectant silence surrounded them as inch after inch appeared until finally, the broad head fell into her hand, swollen with passion, rigid with need, too heavy to stand upright. Dear God, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make him fit. She gave him a tentative squeeze, running her tongue over her lip.

His hand dropped to her shoulder while the other curved under her jaw, steadying her through the awkward moment.

“Hungry, baby?”

She shook her head on an instinctive “no.”

His weight shifted and the whole atmosphere of the moment shifted right along with it. Desi’s sense of power blinked out as if it’d never existed, and she was, once again, just a pathetically weak woman on her knees before a man who held all the cards.

“That’s what I thought.” The hand under her chin turned her face up to his, and she knew what that something else was she’d seen in his gaze. Pity. Her nails dug into Caine’s thighs as he said, “Seems to me a woman must be pretty damned desperate to be willing to freeze her ass off bargaining with a stranger this way.”

She closed her eyes as emotion washed over her in a sick wave. She didn’t know what was stronger, despair or horror, just that both were potent contributors to the humiliation that had a stranglehold on her voice. “Maybe I’m just a natural born whore.”

The statement she wanted to sound cold and matter-of-fact came out high and strained. Caine cocked his head to the side. His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth. “It’s been my experience there’s no such thing. Just women who’ve run out of options.”

The downward tug on her arm was order enough. He didn’t need to add the “Stay put.”

He made himself decent with that efficiency of motion she was beginning to associate with him. His hand came back under her chin. She followed the silent direction. She had the sense he saw in her eyes everything she tried to hide—the pain, the despair, the stupid endless hope.

“Tell me why.”

She couldn’t. He wouldn’t believe her and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to help. He would be honor bound to uphold the law once he knew the truth. “You don’t need to know why.”

If his frown was any indication, he wasn’t used to being denied.

“I’m a Texas Ranger. If you need help, I’m here to provide it.”

She looked past him to the horizon. “We’ve already settled what I need.”

“Indian country is no place for a woman.”

But it was the only chance she had. She licked her lips. “You promised you’d let me go.”

“No. I promised I’d get you out of Los Santos.”

“But it was a trick.” Acceptance flowed from her in a shuddering sigh. Just another trick.

Caine didn’t hide from the truth. “Yes.”

He’d needed to know what he was walking into. Desi’s desperation combined with the padre’s told him all he needed to know. The woman needed help. Badly. “But it’s leading to a promise.”

“What kind of promise?”

There was no challenge in the question, no hellfire and brimstone defiance, just more of that damn hopeless acceptance. The merciless sunlight reflected off the moisture gathering in her eyes, tears he knew she’d rather die than have him see…Ah, hell. There was no going back for either of them.

He rubbed his thumb across her lips. “A Hell’s Eight promise. One you can believe in. From here on out, Desi, you’ve no need to run. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She shook her head, her big blue eyes begging his. “Just let me go.”

“No.” Sending her off into Indian country with no protection would be tantamount to murder. Caine helped Desi to her feet, steadying her as she swayed. He jerked his chin to the west. “Whatever you’re running from, it’s not worse than what you’ll find out there.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know you belong with people who care for you.”

“My people are dead.”

“Your guardian, then.”

Her upper lip curled in a sneer. “No, thank you.”

He made a note of her disgust as he dragged her along behind him toward the paint. The uneven tugging of his hand had him looking back. She was limping. He stopped. “Let me see your feet.”

She didn’t hesitate, merely lifted her left foot with an obedience that was oddly disturbing. He took it in his hand, the high arch and fine bones making him want to hold her safe. The state of the sole made him wince.

“Show me the other.”

With that same obedience she lifted the other. Shit. They were both bruised and scraped but the right one was torn to shreds. Guilt roughed his temper. She’d been hurting and he’d let her play sex games. Not that he’d meant for things to go that far. He’d just been measuring the extent of her desperation when something else had risen between them. Something he’d never felt before. Something hot, dark and possessive. As a result, he’d acted as he never had. That fact wasn’t sitting any better with him than the fact that she’d been hurt in the first place. He pressed lightly to the side of the deeper cut. Fresh blood welled. He met her gaze. “You should have said something.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”