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“Look at me, Chay. ” His voice hardened when she would have closed her eyes.
Forcing them open, she stared back at him. His jaw was clenched, sweat dripped along his forehead and down his face. His shoulders bunched, and she felt his thighs tighten as he pulled his erection back, then worked it into her farther, deeper, taking her until she was trying not to scream, until she was burning around him, and with a strangled groan, he buried himself full length inside her.
Hard hands clenched on her hips as he penetrated her fully, and some dark emotion in his eyes flared.
“Has there been anyone else?” She watched him speak, heard the words and tried to make sense of them.
“What?”
“Other men. Has another man taken what’s mine, damn it?” Pure male dominance flashed in his expression, in his eyes.
Another man? She shook her head; she couldn’t bear another man’s touch. Didn’t want it. Never, ever thought of it.
She shook her head again. “No one. No one but you . . . ” She wanted to tell him she only wanted him, only needed him, but as the words tried to slip past her lips, he moved.
As though the admission broke the last of his own control, he was moving inside her, plunging, fucking her with fast, furious strokes that threw her almost instantly into orgasm.
It was like that with Natches. So wild there was no hope of holding on. So hot there wasn’t a chance of not burning alive.
She arched and cried out his name. Her eyes closed, her neck lifted, and she felt him tighten, heard his hoarse exclamation before she felt him spill inside her. Heated, fierce jets of semen spurted into the quaking depths of her vagina and pushed her into another, destructive release, and to an edge of fear. Just the tiniest spark of concern because she knew there was something she should have remembered, something she should fear in this pleasure. A pleasure that left her sated, filled, and somehow, she knew, irrevocably bound to Natches in a way she never had been before.
SEVEN
Natches wasn’t certain what brought him awake just after daybreak. The sun wasn’t shining through the windows yet, and there was a light chill to the air.
At the end of October, it could get cold on the water. His bed was warm though, and he was drowsy and seeking the touch of Chaya’s body when it hit him.
She wasn’t in the bed.
He listened carefully and couldn’t hear her moving on the houseboat or in the shower. Irritation washed through him instantly, as well as a healthy dose of anger.
He sat up in the bed, his eyes narrowed against the gloom that filled the large bedroom as he glanced at the clock.
It was barely seven, too damned early to be up and moving around unless he had actually intended to be at the garage that day. Which he hadn’t. He’d intended to spend the day happily rolling around the bed with Chaya.
As he moved to flip the blanket back, he saw the paper on her pillow and picked it up before reading it silently. Am meeting Sheriff Mayes this morning. I have work to do. Will call you this evening.
She would call him this evening?
He crumpled the note slowly in his hand, and for just a second, only a second, a grim sort of humor touched his mind. How many times had he either written or stated that sentiment, never to return?
Oh, if she thought for a single damned minute she was getting away that easily, then he’d just have to show her different. He’d let her go twice. Third time’s a charm, sweetheart, he thought furiously. This time, she was stuck, and he’d make certain she understood that. Clear to her soul. No matter what it took.
Stomping from the bed, he headed for the shower. If he knew Zeke Mayes, and he did, then sweet little Chaya’s day wasn’t going to begin until after ten. Zeke had his rounds to make, his paperwork to do, and then he headed to the diner for breakfast around nine thirty or ten. Plenty of time for Natches to get ready and reach Chaya’s hotel. He’d drag her back to the houseboat and show her exactly how this relationship was going to work from here on out.
He paused as he stood beneath the shower spray. Relationship. Hell, he’d never had a relationship. Until now. Until Chaya. He’d never kept a woman around long, never wanted to, but he was starting to suspect he wanted to keep Chaya forever.
He finished his shower, dressed, and was downstairs in the living room pulling on his boots when a fist landed in imperative demand against the door.
His head jerked up, then he lowered and shook it in resignation. He knew that knock.
Pushing to his feet, he stalked to the door, pulled the shade back, and glared at Dawg as he slid the door open.
“Isn’t Crista draggin’ your ass to the lumber store?” he smirked. Dawg’s wife kept him on a very short leash. Dry cleaned and pressed clothes that looked presentable rather than day-old and holey. A decent haircut. But the scowl on his older cousin’s face hadn’t changed by much.
“Crista’s not feeling well this morning. ” Dawg shrugged as he stepped into the boat. “Where are you headed off to this early? I thought you took Fridays off from the garage now. ”
Natches watched curiously as Dawg prowled the living room and the kitchen.
