Midnight Sins (48 page)

as she tried to get closer, tried to burrow beneath his

flesh.

“You haven’t come to me, Rafer,” she panted

roughly. “I waited.”

“I waited for you, baby,” he whispered. “You didn’t

call. I won’t beg you every time we come together.”

“Do you want me to beg?” She was so ready to

beg.

She could beg so easily if that was that he

wanted her to do.

“No, I want you to dance with me, Cami.”

Her hands tightened on his shoulders.

He wasn’t going to make this easier for her, was

he? It would be all or nothing. And didn’t he deserve

it?

All his life he’d been pushed to the back, told he

didn’t deserve the same things other men deserved,

and each time he entered Corbin County he became

a secondary citizen.

And he wasn’t.

In so many ways, Rafer deserved so much more

than others in this county could ever deserve.

He drew back to stare down at her, his eyes

meeting hers, demand darkening them and tightening

the fingers that clenched her hips.

She laid her head on his chest, feeling one broad

hand move from her hip to the back of her head, his

fingers threading through the short strands of her hair.

Closing her eyes, she tried to soak in the warmth and

confidence that was so much a part of him.

“Let you claim me,” she whispered, knowing what

he was demanding.

“Deny you belong to me, Cami.” He sounded

uncompromising yet incredibly gentle, even

understanding. He knew what he was asking of her,

knew what it could possibly result in, and still he was

demanding it.

She fought the emotions rising inside her, her

face tightening, clenching with the effort it took to hold

back the instinctive objection to everything he wanted.

She swallowed tightly. “I can’t belong—” But she

wanted to. She wanted to so badly that the need

throbbed through her veins and pulsed through her

clit. It wasn’t just a sexual need or a sensual pleasure.

“I can dance with you,” she dragged in a harsh breath.

The need was a hunger to be close to him, to

allow the intimacy of a dance to pull them together. It

would hold them and allow them to claim each other in

public. He would do it in full view of not just their

enemies but also the threatening caller that who finally

called that evening as she made her way to the town

square.

And this time, the threat had been more explicit.

Rafe tensed against her.

Oh, she wasn’t going to do this.

Rafe stared down at her, calculating the best way

to stake his claim. To impress upon her, and every

man who would lust after her, that she was his.

Convince her clear to her soul, that she was his. That

no other man would touch her, no matter what, no

matter where.

And there was only one way to effectively do that.

To claim her, to mark her in a way everyone would

damned well understand.

She was a stubborn woman and she had it in her

head that she wasn’t going to allow any kind of public

claim. That she was either not risking her heart, or not

risking her pride by being publicly claimed by a

Callahan. He had to admit, at this point, he wasn’t

certain which it was. But he did know what he had

seen moments before. Another man trying to touch

her, to take her, to claim her.

Cami’s reputation as a woman without a claim

was coming to an end, and it was coming to an end

tonight.

Lowering his head, nearly nose to nose with her,

Rafe felt his teeth pull back in a primal snarl.

“Be very, very careful,” he warned her, his voice

rough, hoarse. “I saw that bastard touching you, Cami.

I saw his hand on you and I saw his invitation to you, to

dance.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parted.

“Don’t.” He laid his finger against her lips. “No

objections. Don’t even bother arguing. Trust me,

Cami. To the bottom of your soul trust this: If I see

another man touch you, see him lay his hand on you,

then I swear to you I’ll break his hand. And God help

us all if you agree to dance with any man other than

me!”

Shock resounded through her.

The sound of his voice, the warning, the fury that

glittered in his eyes, had trepidation surging through

her even as he jerked her closer. His fingers tangled

in the hair at the back of her head, pulled her head

back, and his lips covered hers.

It was like pouring gasoline on fire.

Barely banked on a good day, the hunger

suddenly flamed, raged through her, and stole her

control. Her hands buried themselves in his overly

long hair, tangled in it, and pulled him closer. Like

roughened velvet his lips rubbed over hers, slanted,

his tongue meeting hers desperately.

She tasted him. Male heat and flaming hunger.

There was a hint of the beer he must have drunk

earlier, and that smokey wine taste of his cigar. Just a

hint of it. Just enough to make her long for more, to

have her reaching to get closer, to taste the kiss

deeper.

What was she doing?

She moaned in need. She was aching for him.

The ache was becoming more intense by the night,

the hunger to just have him near tearing at her.

His fingers clenched at her hip and in her hair as

a male groan muted and filled Rafer with a need for

her that was nearly intoxicating by itself.

She had never been wanted as Rafer wanted

her. She had never been kissed, tasted, and touched

as Rafer touched her.

And she had never ached for another man as she

ached for Rafer.

She was shocked as he pulled back, but she

didn’t fight as he wrapped his arm around her back

and led her the short distance to the edge of the

dance area.

She didn’t care at that point who watched, who

saw. She didn’t care what they saw.

She could feel the hard, thick wedge of his cock

pressing against her lower belly between their

clothes. Suddenly, she wasn’t chilled any longer, she

was warm. No, she wasn’t warm, she was hot.

Blazing. Fiery.

She could have melted ice as she stared up at

him.

The flame of hunger in his gaze sank inside her. It

washed over the places in her soul that she wanted to

remain hidden, that she wanted to remain chilled.

She didn’t want to thaw. She didn’t want to feel

the additional ache, the loss, the hungry need that

went so far beyond the sexual.

But that was exactly what she felt.

As he moved her across the dance floor, held her

in his arms, and claimed her to everyone willing to

see, Cami felt that part of her soul open and come

alive.

Rafe watched the crowd.

With his head bent over Cami’s, one hand

tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip, he felt

her melt against him.

She was accepting him. He could feel that

acceptance to the bottom of his soul. And in doing so,

she was accepting the claim he made on her.

With his gaze locked across the dance floor on

Marshal Roberts, he stared back at his supposed

grandfather with a fiery rage and unbidden fury he’d

never been able to quench.

Until the old man turned away, replaced the

western hat he invariably wore, and walked away.

He didn’t know what the old bastard was up to,

but he would find out. There were a lot of things he

intended to have answers to very, very soon.

Until then, he had Cami in his arms. Slow

dancing, swaying, holding her as close to him as two

people could get.

Until the music ended.

Cami found herself back where they had started,

sheltered within the small grotto, staring up at Rafer

as he stepped away from her.

A second later, she was free.

Trembling, struggling to stand upright on the fiveinch

heels as he steadied her, but only for a second,

before letting her go and stepping back.

“Rafer,” she whispered.

She needed more. She was dying for more.

“Let me know when I can come through the front

door, Cami,” he bit out furiously. “Until then, you

damned well better remember every word of warning I

just gave you.”

Before she could protest or argue, he was gone.

Sliding through the shadows and disappearing,

leaving her feeling suddenly deflated, lost.

She sat down slowly on the lovers’ bench behind

her and covered her face with her hands.

She should have told him why.

She should have told him about the phone calls

and that the last threat wasn’t just against her. The last

time the caller had contacted her, he had threatened

Rafe as well.

“You’re not being a good girl, Cambria. Don’t

you know I’ll punish you even more than I did your

sister? This time, your lover will feel my anger as

well.

You’re not being a good girl.

In other words she wasn’t staying away from Rafe

or keeping him away from her.

Maybe she should have told him—

CHAPTER 15

Cami forced herself to go home that night.

The streets, as she suspected, were far from

empty, which would make it much easier for anyone to

follow her.

She walked back to the house with friends she

worked with who had parked farther down the street

and gave her a reliable excuse for walking with

someone. She didn’t have to ask anyone to walk with

her, which would have required explanations.

But once she reach her home and stepped

inside it, she almost wished she had stayed just a little

longer at the outdoor party. Perhaps until daylight.

Because the house was too quiet.

It was too lonely.

The home she had grown up in, the one she had

bought from her father when he and her mother made

the decision to move to Aspen, seemed to close in on

Cami. For the first time in her life she didn’t feel

comfortable, warm, and protected, and she wondered

that she ever had.

There had been something about her mother’s

presence in it, Cami admitted. Her mother had made

the difference. Before Cami’s parents had sold the

house and moved to Aspen, it had been a warm,

inviting home. Sometimes. If her father wasn’t there.

But still, it was the home she had been raised in.

It was the home where she had gotten to know her

older sister until Cami had turned eight and Jaymi had

moved out.

And even then, Jaymi hadn’t forgotten about her.