Dillon's Claim (9 page)

He glanced at Deke. The
residual tension in his brother’s jaw told Dillon he wasn’t entirely appeased. Dillon
knew why. He had taken an unnecessary risk by going out to find those trespassers
alone in the dark last night. Much as he hated to admit it, Deke had every
right to be pissed at him. If the shoe had been on the other foot, Dillon would
have torn a strip off his brother’s prickly hide.

“You’re right,” Dillon finally
muttered, staring out at the rolling hills in the distance. “I should’ve called
you. I’m sorry.”

Deke glanced over at him in astonishment,
then chuckled. “How’d those words taste coming out of your mouth?”

A reluctant grin pulled at his
lips. “Like shit.”

When they finally reached the
corral and took care of the horses, the only thing on Dillon’s mind was finding
Charissa. But once he walked the short distance to the lodge, her car wasn’t
parked out front.

Frowning, he jogged up the
stone steps and went to the office. Ashley, the office manager, looked up with
a smile.

He didn’t smile back. “Has
Charissa Myers checked out?”

“Yeah, she left about an hour
ago. Why? Something wrong?”

Fuck.
“No.” Just that his
heart had stopped beating. He kept his expression impassive. “Did she leave a
message?”

“No, not that I know of.”

He could almost feel his lungs
deflate. “Thanks. If Dusty calls in, tell him everything’s clear.”

“Sure.”

Stepping outside into the
oppressive midday heat, he tugged his hat on and struggled to pull in a lungful
of dry air. The crushing disappointment in his chest made it hard to breathe. She’d
left him again without a single word. Even after what they’d shared last night.
Fucking
hell
, that hurt.

He trudged back to his truck,
slammed the door behind him, and took off for his place. Damned if he’d call
her this time.
This
time he’d gotten her message loud and clear—she wasn’t
interested. Somehow he was going to have to deal with that. Because he was done
chasing after her and trying to convince her to give them a chance at a future
together.

****

Closing her car door behind
her just before noon, Charissa climbed out next to Dillon’s truck in the
scorching hot air and smoothed down her flouncy, white, knee-length skirt as
she stared at his home. Made of smooth pine logs, the modest cabin was simply
constructed but tidy and well maintained. Not that she expected anything less from
someone as particular as Dillon.

Though she’d planned to be on
her way back to Austin by now, the need to see Dillon again had kept her here.
She’d waited all morning for him to contact her, but he’d never called or sent
word from one of his brothers or the other staff members.

When she’d found Dusty and
asked about his whereabouts, he explained that Dillon had still been busy with
the security check. Then, instead of giving her Dillon’s landline number, Dusty
had given her directions to the isolated cabin. That hadn’t worked out too
well. She’d driven past it on the first attempt by accident and, realizing she
was lost, finally turned around and out of desperation followed the faint tire
tracks in the ground that led her here.

Nerves danced in her stomach
as she stood next to her car under the hot sun and eyed the cabin. She knew
what to expect from Dillon today. He’d made his intentions clear enough last
night, and she wanted to experience it all with him. She was as ready for that
as she’d ever be. But afterward...she didn’t have a clue what would happen. He
cared, but he’d never indicated he wanted anything serious from her. Their
lives—their worlds—were so different that a real relationship probably wasn’t
going to work anyway. Still, she couldn’t quite squash the hope that rose
inside her as she started for the front step of the rancher-style cabin. All
she knew was she needed more of him before she could let him go.

Gathering her courage, she
rapped sharply on the door and stood on the stoop to wait. Red geraniums
bloomed in the window boxes along the front of the house and in pots placed
along the front path. It pleased her that Dillon cared about such things, but
she had trouble imagining him fussing with flowers.

The greeting she’d prepared
died on her tongue when Dillon pulled the heavy door open, releasing a breath
of cool air from the air conditioned interior. Wearing an unbuttoned black
shirt over his bare, magnificent chest, he stared down at her with hard blue
eyes. “Forget something?”

His icy tone and expression
shocked her speechless for a moment, but then she glared right back at him. Why
the hell was he in such a bad mood? She licked her lips and raised her chin.
She’d be damned if she let him think he intimidated her.

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Well?”

“Hello to you, too.”

He didn’t respond, but his
expression turned from cold to wary.

Well, damn. This wasn’t at all
how she’d envisioned this going. Maybe she’d made a mistake by coming out here
to find him.

He folded his thick arms
across his chest, the sheer physical power of him making him even more
imposing. “Why are you here, Charissa?”

Did he really not know?
Frowning, she tilted her head. “Uh, I wanted to see you?”

“Why? Ashley said you checked
out and left hours ago.”

Realization slowly dawned, and
with it came a pang of empathy. He thought she’d taken off again. She shook her
head. “I checked out, but only because I didn’t want to miss check out time.
When I didn’t hear from you this morning, I went into town with Bridgette to do
some shopping. After I got back, I asked Dusty where you were and he sent me
out here.” She barely resisted the urge to fidget. “Is...that okay?”

His entire demeanor changed.
Softened. The ice in his eyes thawed. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, it’s okay.” He
seemed relieved.

Glad that awkward moment was
over with, she smiled then took his face in her hands and leaned up to kiss
him.

He stiffened for an instant,
as though she’d taken him completely off guard, but he recovered fast. Before
she could slide her arms around his neck, Dillon caught her around the waist
and dragged her inside with a hungry growl. Her heart did a somersault in her
chest.

One big hand fisted in her
hair as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. She sighed and rubbed against
him. Every nerve ending in her body pulsed at the evidence of his need for her.
He shoved the door shut and pinned her against it, grinding into her with his
hard, aroused body. His tongue swirled around hers, stroking and teasing. She
gasped into his mouth, already melting for him. Desperate for more.

He pulled back just enough to see
her eyes. His burned with the kind of dark desires she’d only dreamed about. “You
sure about this?”

“Yes,” she managed shakily.

His gaze held her as forcefully
as his body did. “You know what I want from you. What I’ll do to you.”

Swallowing, she nodded. He’d
take total control of her this time. Make her completely helpless. God help
her, she wanted it as much as he did. The thought of what he’d do excited her
unbearably.

His eyes burned like blue
flames as he released her and stepped back. “Go stand by the bed.”

She blinked in shock. Just
like that? No more seductive lead-up, no more foreplay? He stood there watching
her expectantly, and she finally took the hint and walked to the side of the
king sized wrought iron bed. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stared
at the rumpled sheets he hadn’t bothered to remake. She might have an idea of
what to expect, but she didn’t know exactly what he had in mind. He’d been so
incredibly tender and considerate with her last night. Something told her he’d
be different this time. More dominant. Rougher. She repressed a shiver,
wondering what he would do to her, hoping he’d still be patient.

You wanted this.
Too late to
back out now.

“Face me and take off your
clothes.”

She whipped around. His voice
was low, hard. His muscular arms were folded across his chest. The ring of
command in his words startled her. She’d never seen this cool, almost detached
side of him before. Was he still angry? She didn’t want to do this if he was
angry. He was much too big, much too experienced. Suddenly she felt a little afraid
of him.

Dillon didn’t move from his
position by the door, just watched her with that hot, predatory gaze. In full dominant
mode. She didn’t know if she liked it or not.

“Strip for me,” he ordered
softly, his eyes taunting her, almost like he wanted her to defy him. She
wouldn’t dare.

A wave of acute
self-consciousness swept through her, but if this was some sort of test, she
refused to fail it. Her fingers shook a little as she reached for the hem of
her snug top and drew it upward. She pulled the soft fabric up slowly,
revealing the plane of her belly and the black lace push-up bra encasing her
tingling breasts. The intent way his eyes tracked the shirt’s progress turned
the heat between her legs into an insistent throb.

Beneath the feeling of unease,
a sense of feminine power rushed through her. Dillon’s expression was set, his
jaw tense as she undid her skirt and ever so slowly dragged it over her hips. She
added a little shimmy when she drew it down her thighs to her red strappy
wedges, loving the way he stared at the soft scrap of black fabric that covered
her damp pussy. Her fingers found the little rhinestone heart nestled between
the bra cups. Pausing, she stroked her fingertips over it, watching his
reaction.

One corner of his mouth kicked
up in amusement as he met her gaze. “Go ahead and tease me while you can,
sweetness. But bear in mind, I’ll make it ten times worse for you when I take over.”

The endearment helped dispel
some of the nervousness lurking inside her but didn’t remove it completely. With
a shaky smile, she released the front clasp and carefully drew the cups aside.
Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, the nipples tight and achy with need. The
thought of his mouth sucking on them made her light headed.

“All of it,” he rasped, never
taking his eyes off her naked flesh.

That hot stare made her feel
feminine and oh so sexy as she revealed her body to him, because she had no
doubt he recognized it as the act of surrender it was. Rather than make her
feel weak or exposed, she felt beautiful. Free.

Sliding her hands into the
waistband of her thong, she drew it away from the damp flesh between her thighs,
slowly, biting her lip to stifle a moan as the fabric tugged against her hot
folds. Every second, she was acutely conscious of Dillon’s gaze on her. Once
her panties were gone, she unbuckled the red espadrilles and slid them off her
feet.

When she was finally naked,
she straightened and stood before him, fighting the urge to fidget and cover
herself. The detached way he watched so silently made her feel more exposed. Bright
beams of sunlight streamed through the slats in the wooden blinds covering the
window next to his big bed. With that kind of illumination, he’d be able to see
every imperfection on her body. A flush spread over her face, down her throat
to her breasts. She wished he’d just take over, stop making her feel so
nervous.

Without having moved or saying
a single word, Dillon looked ready to devour her. “Stretch out on the bed for
me.”

Something in his expression made
Charissa hold his gaze as she climbed on the bed with as much grace as possible
and lay on her back amongst the rumpled sheets with her trembling thighs
pressed together modestly. She could feel his eyes on her naked skin, seeing
every intimate detail. From the bedding, his clean scent reached out to tease
her, the subtle spice and sexy musk that was all Dillon. She squeezed her legs together
to try and relieve the persistent ache between them and waited. What was he
going to do?

“Don’t move,” he said in a
deep voice.

Without looking back at her,
he turned and headed out of the room. Confused, she stared after him. A moment
later, she heard a closet door open and him rummaging around. Charissa curled
her hands into the bedding. What was he looking for? Toys? She held her breath
as his footsteps headed back toward the bedroom. When he appeared, her eyes
locked on what he held in his hands, and a ribbon of unease snaked through her.

Those were no novelty store
cuffs or the cute fur-lined ones she’d seen in adult stores. They were wider,
made of black leather, with some sort of metal clips attached to them. And he
held several lengths of silver chain as well.

Full-on restraints.

Her heart skipped a beat as
her gaze flew to his, but she couldn’t read his closed expression. He stopped
at the foot of the bed, and this time, she could tell he was fighting a smile. Sensual
heat and icy fear warred in her veins. Could she really do this? Relinquish
this kind of control to a man with this sort of experience? It was obvious he
was intimately familiar with the restraints. Unbidden, a twinge of jealousy
flared deep inside. How many women had he brought here and used them on?