Spirits Shared (6 page)

She really looked at his place then. It was
essentially a single large room with two short walls extending out
to form an alcove for a small office, and a counter separating the
rest of the cabin from the kitchen.

On either side of the cabin door there were
totem poles capped by Thunderbirds. There was another Thunderbird
carved into the fireplace mantle.

Animal figures, some painted, some left as
polished, stained wood, were scattered throughout the cabin. A
grizzly with two cubs was on his desk. Several mountain goats along
with wolves and coyotes were on the bookcase.

The sofa and chairs in the living area
looked handcrafted and built for a man's comfort. The cushions were
a dark brown that wouldn't show every speck of dirt and went with
the photographs on the wall. She'd bet most, if not all, of the
pictures had been taken locally. Fog and storm dominated, though
one was a close-up of a golden eagle taking flight.

Her eyes returned to Tekoa. "The photographs
are amazing. Whoever took them is a natural with the camera."

The self-deprecating smile reappeared.
"Lucky and patient are more accurate."

A little thrill spun inside her. Photography
wasn't her medium, pencils and watercolors were, but he had an
artist's eye. "It's your work?" she asked, moving toward the
kitchen.

"Most of it. The picture of the bull rider
was taken by my cousin Briar."

Jessica skirted the kitchen counter. Clay
pulled out one of the bar stools and sat, sending a swell of
emotion up her throat so everything else faded.

He was okay. The wreck, the frantic search
for help, finding him on the road, pale and shivering and hurting,
it almost seemed like a nightmare.

Masculine lips that could deliver exquisite
pleasure kicked upward. "Babe, if you keep looking at me that way,
I'm either going to drag you to the rug in front of the fireplace
or I'm going to ask Tekoa if we can borrow his bed."

She blushed and turned away from him though
she couldn't escape the images of the two of them lying naked on
the rug, or lying on the bed with Tekoa watching, a strong dark
hand around his erection, moving up and down on his shaft.

Her heart fluttered and the heat in her face
was nothing compared to the heat between her legs. She clamped her
thighs together but that made the need worse.

Tekoa came to her side, and breathing in his
scent had a wild storm forming in her chest. She shivered, rubbed
her palms against her shirt.

How was she going to say no to this? Did she
really want to?

A fist squeezed and released her heart.
There was so much to lose.

He tapped a cabinet door on the wall to the
left of the counter. "Canned goods here. Next one over is baking
stuff. There's steak in the freezer and some ground beef in the
fridge along with fresh vegetables. There's a loaf of homemade
bread in the box next to Clay's elbow. If there's something else
you think you might need, ask."

Her eyes darted to his jeans-covered
erection and her stomach did a little flip. She licked her lips and
his cock flexed against the material.

She tore her eyes away from the front of his
jeans. What happened to pushing thoughts of what might come next
into the background?

Why wasn't he married? He probably had women
making up reasons to call 9-1-1. He probably had men committing
crimes so they could run and have Tekoa take them to the
ground.

She pressed her legs together. Rubbed her
palms against her shirt.

Maybe he wasn't married because he was
bisexual. Because like Clay, he needed to be out, and needed a
woman who could accept his need for a male lover before he said
I do
.

She opened the cabinet, selected cans of red
kidney beans and diced tomatoes, and was amazed by the steadiness
of her hands given that her heart couldn't seem to find a steady
beat.

This was like her first date with Clay.
She'd been hopeful and afraid and needy and nervous.

She glanced at him, drinking him in, her
heart climbing into her throat on a swell of tears. She'd been so
afraid, both before the wreck and then after. She couldn't lose
him.

"Jess…" His eyes and the heated, edgy tone
in his voice warned that he could only take so much, not that she
needed the warning. He'd go slow or fast, he'd take his cue from
her, but he knew her body as well as he knew his own, and he was
fearless.

A hint of willingness, the slightest
indication that she was ready to take the next step and he'd strip
her out of the shirt and panties, he'd make love to her and it'd
only turn him on more to do it with Tekoa watching.

Clay's eyelids lowered. His features
hardened and her sex grew more swollen. The tears that had risen
with thoughts of loss evaporated in a rush of scorching heat.

She turned away and reached for a can of
corn with a hand that shook. What would she do if he ordered her to
take off her shirt and panties and brace her hands against the
counter?

Part of her wished he would take the
decision away from her and simply make her accept Tekoa as a lover.
He had the power. But the part of her that loved and trusted him
was glad he'd never do something like that. He could be a
thoroughly dominating lover, but he was also a sensitive, caring
man who treated her as an equal and made her feel protected and
treasured.

"Pots and pans?" she asked, hyperaware of
how wet her panties were, of the blush that seemed to be
permanently warming her face.

Tekoa pushed away from the counter. "What do
you need?"

"One of each. How does chili with a salad
and the homemade bread sound to you guys?"

"Works for me," Clay said.

Tekoa touched a hand to the middle of her
back and sent a surge of heat into her pussy. "I'll be your
assistant. You give the orders. I'll carry them out."

She nodded, fantasies raging, of her
ordering him to strip, her ordering him onto his knees, her
ordering him to put his mouth on her pussy. If she said something
he'd hear the husky need in her voice, not that he couldn't already
see it in the way her nipples were outlined against the light blue
shirt.

She hugged her arms to her chest and her
heart banged against the tin cans she'd selected.
Dinner
first
, she thought. She didn't have to decide right now how far
they'd take things tonight.

She breathed deeply to clear her voice of
husk. Braced herself in a futile effort not to react physically.
Glancing at Tekoa, she said, "You get onion duty."

"One chopped onion coming up."

She threw herself into cooking. It'd always
been a refuge.

Clay and Tekoa launched into a discussion of
the outdoor activities and local places that might become adventure
destinations. They were engrossed in a conversation about fly
fishing by the time they sat down at the table to eat.

"So you tie your own lures?" Clay said,
squeezing Ranch dressing onto his salad.

"Don't you?"

Clay shook his head. "Haven't learned."

"You've probably got a handle on the knots.
I could teach you how to make the flies. Not to brag, but a cousin
of mine has been winning tournaments using a design of mine."

Clay laughed. "Yeah, not to brag. So I'd be
a fool to say no to the offer?"

"Could be."

Jessica smiled at their exchange. And the
image of the two men, heads bent over thread and pieces of fur and
feathers, Tekoa's hands guiding Clay's, had her heart racing toward
a dangerous destination.

She finished her salad and as she dug into
the chili, Clay said, "So did you always want to be Sheriff?"

"Who wouldn't?"

Clay grinned. "I take that as a yes."

"A great-uncle had the job before me. I used
to hang out at the jail and ride shotgun in the cruiser as a kid.
Even used to sleep some nights in a cell."

Clay laughed. "That could have ended badly,
got you a little too comfortable with life behind bars."

"Could have, but didn't."

"Then you've always worked here?" Jessica
asked, having a hard time shaking the heart-melting image of Tekoa
as a little boy tagging along after his uncle.

"No. Went to college in Seattle. First law
enforcement job was there. I was a patrol cop."

Clay paused in the act of slathering butter
on a slice of the homemade bread. "What's your last name?"

"Windstrike."

"Officer Windstrike. Holy fuck. I didn't
recognize you with the long hair. You're the cop who saw that
mother throw her toddler off a bridge and dove into the river after
the kid. You remember it in the news, Jess?"

"Definitely. Somebody caught it with their
cellphone and it went viral."

A blush stole into Tekoa's face. "I did what
anyone would have done. Let's talk about the books Jessica's
written and illustrated."

They did until dinner was finished, then
Clay left his seat to stand behind her chair. His hands rested on
her shoulders, strong, possessive, close enough to her breasts that
the heat that'd been reduced to a simmer flared.

"I'll take care of the dirty dishes since
the two of you worked on the meal," he said, bending down and
rubbing his cheek against her hair.

Tekoa pushed his chair back but didn't
stand. "There's no dishwasher. Uses too much power."

Clay laughed. "I'm used to doing it the
old-fashioned way. There never seems to be a dishwasher handy when
I'm camping. And there's almost never such an edible cook."

He nuzzled her neck. The soft brush of his
lips against her skin sent shivery anticipation to her nipples so
they hardened, drawing Tekoa's gaze to the front of her shirt. And
it was her turn to blush.

Heat condensed in her nipples and sex. She
swallowed a moan, shivered when Clay's right hand dropped from her
shoulder to between her legs.

Her blush deepened though Tekoa couldn't
know Clay's hand was on her mound and not her stomach or thigh.

Clay nibbled his way to her mouth, caught
her soft moan with a kiss, the heat between her legs building with
the rub of his fingers over her clit.

She snapped her legs shut. If he slid his
hand beneath the shirt and discovered the slick arousal coating her
inner thighs he'd plunge his hand into her panties and play with
her. And if she let him touch her so intimately in front of
Tekoa…

Her heart somersaulted. She'd come sitting
at the table with Tekoa watching.

Clay thrust his tongue against hers,
punishing her for denying him access to her pussy with hard,
dominating kisses that had her channel clenching, demanding that
she spread her legs and guide his hand to her wet opening.

She wanted him to force her thighs apart and
slide his hand into her panties. She wanted him to cup her mound
and discover how aroused she was. She wanted him to plunge his
fingers into her and make her come. She wanted, but…

He ripped his mouth off hers. His eyes
glittered with desire and said,
It's up to you. The control
rests with you.

Her heart tried to pound its way up to her
mouth and out as
yes, yes, yes
. But say yes and there would
be no going back.

Not ready. She wasn't ready.

He gave her a hard kiss with eyes that said,
It's okay.
"I'd better get to the dishes. Why don't you and
Tekoa decide what we're going to play?"

She swallowed, only barely prevented herself
from glancing at the bed. She fought against cupping her breasts,
taking hard, throbbing nipples between her fingers and easing some
of the ache.

Come bedtime there'd be another choice. If
she lay next to him in the dark, there'd be no denying need and
desire.

Clay brushed his mouth over hers then
straightened. Tekoa stood, the heat in his eyes banked though his
cock pressed thick and full against the front of his jeans.

She shivered. Wanted, her channel clenching,
demanding she lift her shirt and push her panties downward.

"Let's look at the games," Tekoa said, his
voice strained.

Face flushed, aware of the arousal wetting
her panties and inner thighs, she followed him to a cabinet next to
the television set. It was packed with board games, along with a
rack of poker chips and decks of cards.

She glanced at him sideways. He smiled and
it was a feather-stroke across her heart. "My family tends toward
marathon game sessions. What's your preference?"

"Don't let her choose Scrabble," Clay said
from in front of the sink. "Being a writer gives her an unfair
advantage. The last time I beat her was six months ago, after she'd
been drinking."

She laughed, the tight heat of need
loosening, becoming a flood of warmth. The only decision she needed
to make right now was how they'd spend the rest of their
evening.

Her heart demanded she get to know Tekoa
better, though in a lot of ways, she already felt she knew him. But
then, she'd thought she'd known Clay too, before
The
Revelation
.

Shadowy ache encircled her heart and
squeezed.
Let it go
, she thought.

Would she rather Clay have not told her?
Would she rather Clay have not admitted the truth of his
bisexuality to himself until after they were married?

No. And no.

She picked up a poker chip. Not all of them
were created equal and by the weight and texture of the one in her
hand, Tekoa wasn't a casual player.

She glanced at Clay. That'd make it
fair.

"My purse is in the car. In all the panic to
get help and then to get Clay taken care of, I forgot about
it."

Her gaze went to the window. It was pitch
black outside and storming. And given the remoteness, there was
probably no reason to worry about her driver's license and credit
cards.

"We can keep the stakes low," Tekoa said.
"I'm sure you're good for the money."