Stud for Hire (12 page)

He brought his hand down on her ass. Hard. She lurched and whipped her head around to glower at him.

No. He would not allow that either. “That is not an acceptable response. Are you ready to begin?”

She frowned at him, and then realization flooded her face. She licked her lips which, frankly, was like a knife to his gut. He was on tenterhooks here, anxious to begin and worried he didn't have the fortitude to see it through.

“Yes,
sir
.” A near snarl.

He stroked his handprint, his mark on her cheek. “Good girl,” he said, and then he smacked her again. Not hard, not cruelly, just enough to warm her, prepare her, to give her what she really wanted.

When she didn't stop him, he increased his pace, covering her bottom with a series of hearty spanks. He didn't stop when she began to cry out. He didn't stop when she began to writhe. But when her breath broke into short pants, he reached beneath her, between her legs, and found her hard nubbin.

And he stroked her.

As he paddled her ass—alternating between sharp and soft smacks, stopping to stroke her heated skin and then beginning again—he caressed her. Teasing and light, around and under, dabbing at the tender underside. Then circling it without touching until she wailed.

“Logan,” she cried. “Please!”

He assessed her response, the desperate look in her eye, the flailing of her bound limbs, the tenor of her cries. He knew . . .

As she reached her crest, he thrust three fingers into her, and thrust them deep and hard, at the same time massaging her clit with his thumb.

She seized. Sputtered. Howled.

Her clench around him was so manic, so frayed, he could barely contain himself.

He whipped out. Kicked off his boots. Yanked off his jeans. Tossed them aside. Then went lunging for them when he remembered the stupid damn condom. He found it in a crazed scrabble of denim and then knelt behind her on the bed, pulled his briefs down only as far as they needed to go, rolled the rubber onto his aching cock, yanked her toward him with hard hands on her hips, and drove home.

God. God. God.

She was so tight. So wet. So ready. Her channel clenched around him and his eyes crossed. Such pleasure. Such bliss.

It was hell to pull out, but he did not delay in lunging deep again.

As he slammed home, she came again. A series of torturous ripples barraged him. When he yanked out, she resisted, a heinous draw.

“God,” he growled. “God.”

Never before had he been so tense, so on edge. So fucking hungry for a woman.

He held her steady with fingers sunk into the flesh of her hips and pummeled her. A wild man, frantic, desperate, crazed.

But she was crazed as well.

She thrust back into him, closed her hold on him, sucked at his cock with each withdrawal. As he tried desperately to hold back, determined to make this last and last, she worked diligently to make him lose his mind.

And she won.

He gave in. Pressure built at the base of his cock. His balls pulled up into hard little stones. Need burned through his body . . . and with a dazzling explosion, he released.

Bliss washed him as she came around him, quivering with each jerk of his swollen cock.

An eternity of ecstasy, of mindless bliss, over far, far too soon.

He pulled out and collapsed beside her, gasping for breath. She cuddled closer and he held her as she shook. He dabbed away the tears on her cheeks and gently unlashed her, checking her skin to make sure the rope had not been too tight.

He kissed her there, tenderly laving the blue veins tracing her delicate wrists.

She sighed.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gravelly, fatigued, perhaps from too many snarls and growls.

She turned in his arms and nestled into his chest, kissing the underside of his chin. “Yes, Logan,” she said, her eyes filling, once again, with tears. “I am wonderful.”

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her tears away. Their flavor, a tinge of salt with a hint of Hanna, filled his senses.

He loved her.

God help him.

He loved her and he always would.

They made love again sometime in the night, less frantic this time and far more gentle. Although each kiss, each caress, each whisper in the dark was threaded with a hint of desperation. Their time was almost up.

Tomorrow would dawn and Hanna would return to the party for the last event. And then she would return home. To reality.

She nestled deeper into Logan's embrace and listened to his even heartbeat, reveling in the warm wash of his breath as it skated over her as he slept. She wrapped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes. Memorizing the moment.

A tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away.

It would be difficult saying good-bye to Logan. But she really had no choice. If she was going to save her father's ranch and keep her mother in a familiar home, she had to marry Zack.

It would be difficult facing
him
after this. And not just because she now knew, to the depth of her soul, marrying him was a horrible mistake.

The hard, cold fact was, she had abused Zack's trust.

The realization surprised her. Though her feelings for him were far from loverly, she had agreed to marry him. He was her fiancé. Despite her need to know what she would be missing in a passionless marriage—a folly if there ever was one—she couldn't deny the bitter ache of guilt.

Zack loved her, in his way. He deserved better than a woman who would have a torrid affair with another man at the first opportunity.

She would have to tell him what had happened here.

Most likely, he would end their engagement and toss her aside and then everything would fall apart.

She ignored the whisper of relief at the prospect. She had no business feeling relief.

Because of her, her father would lose his ranch and Mom would have to leave her home, perhaps even go into some state-run facility—which sent a ribbon of horror through her.

If only there was another way.

If only her art had sold. If only she had something, anything, more to offer.

But she didn't. She couldn't even land a job. At least, not in Snake Gully. She'd tried, but all the shop owners and even Willy, the owner for the Hitching Post Saloon, just smiled and patted her on the hand and told her to go home to daddy.

She and Sidney had been spoiled, she realized in retrospect. Raised by a wealthy man and never knowing want. It had always been expected that each of them would marry and marry well. Neither had ever had a real job. Neither had any salable skills.

For all her independence, leaving town for the big city, Sidney worked in a coffee shop, barely making enough to pay her rent.

Not for the first time, Hanna cursed their bad luck, or Dad's poor decision making skills. Granted, he probably never expected his investments to go bad. Never expected the ranch would take a downturn or that Mom would get so sick.

And now Hanna would pay the price. If Zack didn't dump her tomorrow.

Still, the thought of her upcoming wedding made her belly churn.

And the thought of lying like this in a bed with Zack . . .

She shuddered.

Logan shifted beneath her, murmuring something unintelligible and pulling her closer. She molded herself against him, thrusting her worries from her mind.

This was now. He was here now. There was too little time to squander it thinking about tomorrow.

She stretched up and kissed the underside of his chin until he came awake. Until his hands began to move over her body again with an enticing warmth, and his mouth found hers, and graced it with a drugging kiss.

Let tomorrow take care of itself, she decided.

This night was too precious to waste.

***

The next time she awoke, dawn's rosy fingers were creeping over the horizon. She nestled into the warmth of Logan's embrace, loath to leave this comfort.

And then she realized . . . it was morning.

The partygoers would be awakening soon for the final festivities . . . and all she had to wear back to the house was a flimsy nightgown.

“Logan.” She shook him gently.

He muttered a muffled word.

“Logan. Wake up. We need to get back.”

His lashes fluttered and then lifted and she stared down into his beautiful blue eyes.
Lord have mercy.
He was handsome under usual circumstances, but like this, sleepy and rumpled, sporting a delicious bristle on his cheeks . . . He was irresistible.

She swallowed the drool in her mouth. There was no time for such ruminations.

“We have to get back. It's morning.”

His lips lifted in a lazy smile. “Not yet.” He tugged her closer and kissed her. She loved the taste of him, his drowsy, earthy scent, but she pulled back, forcing a frown.

“We have to go. Come on.”

It nearly killed her, but she slipped out of bed and cast about for her nightgown. It was half draped over a chair, where she'd flung it the night before. She tugged it on.

He groaned and scrubbed his face. “God. Is it morning already?”

“Come on,” she urged, finding his clothes and tossing them to him. “We need to get back before everyone wakes up.”

Her words must have hit their mark, because he stiffened and glanced out the window, though there was not much to see on the deserted scrub. “Crap. I planned to get you back before daylight.” He leapt into gear, dressing with quick, sharp actions. He found the truck keys and wrapped her in her blanket. “Don't worry,” he said, stroking her lip. “I'm sure they'll all be sleeping in this morning, after last night's party at the swimming hole.”

“Didn't you go?”

He snorted a laugh. “I went long enough to see that you weren't there.”

“Hmm.” She couldn't hold back her grin. It only faded when he kissed it away.

“Come on,” he said, clearly reluctant to leave. “We should go.”

“Wait.” She stayed his hand as he reached for the doorknob.

He stopped, and looked at her, his expression intent. “Yes, Hanna?”

“I just wanted to say . . . Thank you, Logan. For everything. I truly enjoyed it.”

He kissed her again. “I enjoyed it too. But we're far from done.”

“The party ends today. I go home today.”

He winked. “But we're far from done.”

A skitter of excitement danced through her, even though she knew there would be no more playtime between them. Not today. Not ever.

He carried her to the truck, which was hardly necessary, but much appreciated as she was barefoot. Then he settled her in and kissed her before he closed the door. When he slid onto the bench seat on the driver's side, he leaned over and kissed her again. And then again, as though he couldn't get enough.

Neither could she.

But she knew, even if he kissed her forever, she could never get enough of him. So, swallowing her regret, she pulled back and said, “We should go.”

His lashes flickered. A muscle bunched in his cheek—making her want to stroke his fuzz—but he nodded and started the engine. They headed down the rutted track, back to the ranch house, jouncing around. Hanna didn't remember it being so rough on the way here, but she had been distracted.

“I am glad you enjoyed our night together, Hanna,” he said.

“I did.” She tucked the blanket around her, against the early-morning cold.

“But I was hoping we would have a chance to talk as well.”

She laughed. “We were otherwise occupied.”

“We were.”

He turned onto the main road. She glanced at him, surprised that his features seemed tight, his brow knit. She set a hand on his forearm. The muscles rippled at her touch. “What is it, Logan?”

“I had things I wanted to say to you. Things I needed to tell you.” Heavens. Judging from the darkness in his expression, he didn't think she would appreciate what he had to say.

“So tell me.”

“I'd rather do it face-to-face . . . And preferably when you're not half naked.”

She laughed and tugged the blanket tighter. “I'm not half naked.”

“You might as well be. And God help me, as much as I woke up with a powerful need for you, taking you in the front seat of Cody's truck is not what I have in mind. Can we sit down for a cup of coffee when we get back? Somewhere more private than the dining hall?”

“Sure.”

Her heart fluttered. She wondered what he wanted to tell her. What could be so sensitive it needed to be shared face-to-face with someone fully clothed—in private? Most likely he wanted to come clean about knowing her in high school. She should just mention it here and now. But she didn't want to miss out on more time with him.

Besides, that would probably be their last conversation.

Because she would not be able to see him again. Certainly not after she was Zack's wife.

No matter her morals in this, her last fling, she would not be unfaithful once she had made a vow before God . . . and everyone in Snake Gully.

If Zack didn't toss her aside, of course.

Somewhere deep inside, she knew that little flutter was hope.

But it was silly. So she squashed it.

Logan pulled into the driveway of the ranch house and parked next to another pickup. “Go on in,” he said, without meeting her eyes. As though, if he dared to glance her way, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking her. On the front seat of Cody's truck. “Get dressed and I'll clean up a little and we'll have that talk.”

She nodded and slipped out, wrapping the blanket around her as she made her way over the uneven ground and into the house.

Thank God the front door was unlocked. She couldn't imagine how humiliating it would be to have to pound for admittance wearing her nightgown and a flimsy blanket. She pushed through and closed it behind her and headed for the stairs.

“Hanna!” A sharp male voice froze her in her tracks. She turned to see her fiancé, his cheeks beet red, standing in the doorway to Cody's front room. He was tall and handsome with an almost pretty face, though at the moment, it was twisted in anger. His sun-streaked blond hair stood up in spikes. His eyes went wide as he took in her dishevelment. His fingers opened and closed in tight fists.

“Zack . . .”

“Just where have you been?” he snapped.

Hanna opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Zack deserved an explanation . . . but not like this. And not in front of Tibby, who stood behind her brother, peering over his shoulder with a smirk on her face. Hanna's gaze flicked past her and she stilled as she saw the front end of Cody's red truck parked in the driveway. Her heart lurched.

The front room looked out onto the lawn.

No doubt both Zack and Tibby had witnessed her ignominious return.

His gaze raked over her and his nostrils flared. “What the hell are you wearing?” His tone was soft, but there was a thread of fury in it.

Mortification snarled through her as she remembered she was standing in the foyer dressed in her nightgown and wrapped in a blanket.

Tibby snickered.

Without a word, she turned and flew up the stairs.

***

Hanna ran into her room and yanked on a pair of jeans and a shirt, not bothering with her bra because she knew, she just knew, Zack was pounding up the stairs after her. Indeed, just as she pulled her blouse on, he slammed into the room.

Though she was more than a little embarrassed, and perhaps a little frightened, she faced him.

His flawless face was splotched. His features tight. His fists tighter. He glared at her with a ferocity that, had it been physical, would have thrown her across the room. Of a sudden, Hanna was reminded of Sidney's earlier admonition that one didn't know a man until one had seen him angry.

Well, Zack was angry now.

She could hardly blame him.

“What the hell is going on?” he snarled.

“Why are you here, Zack?” she asked, in an attempt to deflect his fury, or at least the question. She had no intention of answering that question. Not here. Not now.

“Why am I here?” He gaped at her. He appeared lost for words. “Because my sister texted me that I'd better come and collect my wayward fiancée, that's why. I didn't believe her, of course. Who would? You of all people.”

She disliked the way his lip curled at that last bit.

“Zack . . .”

“Shut up. Just shut up and get your things. We're leaving.”

“The party is not over.”

“Oh, it's over. In fact, forget your things. Your sister can bring them home. Come on.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. His fingers bit into her. She tried to wrench away, but couldn't.

He towed her forcibly down the hall. A door opened as they reached the top landing and Cody stepped out. He wore only a pair of sweats and his hair was sleep-tousled. He yawned. “What's all the ruckus?” he asked, and then he saw Zack. He paled. “Hey . . . Zack. What's up?”

“Fuck you,” Zack snarled as he pushed past, heading down the stairs. Hanna had to focus to keep up; she nearly tripped on the stairs several times.

“Wait!” Cody thundered down the stairs behind them. “What do you think you're doing?”

Zack reached the bottom and rounded on Cody, roaring, “What do you think I'm doing? I'm taking my fiancée home.”

Cody grinned, though Hanna could see the tension in the lines of his face. “But the party's not over.”

“It is for her,” Zack growled.

He whipped around and hauled her past a smirking Tibby and out the front door. Hanna danced over the stones in the drive that gouged her bare feet as he herded her to his truck. As he unlocked the door, a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Logan, running from the barn.

Her heart leaped.

He looked wonderful in his chambray shirt and rough jeans. His hair was still wet from a quick splash. She wanted to go to him, run to him, wrap herself in his arms.

But she couldn't.