“Shit.”
“S’all cool, boss. I’ll get you if you’re needed.”
“Right. Copy that. Night, Max.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kelan carried her to his room and kicked the door shut behind them. Like all the rooms in Ty’s house, this one was furnished in typical western ranch decor, with rough aspen log furniture and deep greens, blues, and burgundy textiles. His room had a California king bed and the standard furniture—dresser, side chairs, small table, nightstands—that all the other bedrooms had. He’d simplified his room’s decor by getting rid of the knickknacks. Still, it was a far cry from the streamlined simplicity of their condo in Fort Collins.
He set her on her feet by the edge of his bed, then put her bag down.
“I left my purse in the car,” she said.
He stood before her, a great wall of a man. Uncompromising. Certain of himself and the world and their future.
“We’ll get it tomorrow.”
He moved into her space as he peeled off her jacket. She sat on the mattress. He put a knee down beside her. She scrambled backward, making room for him even as he crawled over her. His hair fell forward in a dark fringe.
There were no lights on in his room, but the blinds weren’t drawn. Muted light from outside filtered in around them, giving his eyes an unholy glow.
His anger had not yet abated.
She moved farther onto the bed as he crouched over her. She ran her hands up his arms, over his corded muscles. He took her hands and lifted them above her head, then kissed the soft inside skin of her upper arm. He hadn’t shaved since the morning—she loved the scrape of his face. She squirmed, but his one-handed grip was relentless.
He kissed his way across her almost bare shoulder to her throat. He drew a deep breath of her skin, then brushed his lips against her neck.
“Kelan—” she started. They needed to talk.
“Not yet.” His warm mouth moved over her larynx, then down the center of her chest.
“Let me hold you.”
“No,” he whispered. She felt his hot breath on the inside curve of her breast. His free hand lifted the bottom of her tank top, baring her belly for his enjoyment. He nibbled at the curve of her ribs, the soft bend of her waist.
He straightened, getting off the bed. His dark eyes held hers as he set his foot on the bed. He removed his ankle sheath, putting his KA-BAR on his nightstand.
“Take off my boot.”
She sat up and unlaced it, then pulled it off him. His sock quickly followed. He set his other foot on the bed and had her remove that boot and sock, too. He lifted her leg and untied her sneaker, dropping it and her sock on the floor. He bared her other foot, then leaned forward. Taking hold of her tee, he pulled it over her head. He reached behind her and unfastened her bra. He pushed her shoulder back against the bed, straightening her so he could unfasten her jeans and drag them and her panties off.
He kissed her as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. Then he knelt between her legs to help himself to her sweet flesh. He slipped a finger inside her, just one finger, then added a second. She could feel how slick she was. She sat up and started to touch herself, but he moved her hand away and put his mouth where her fingers had been, while his slipped in and out of her.
Her hips thrust against his hand of their own accord. She was breathing in short huffs. Her body tensed…waiting…waiting. His fingers went still. He looked up at her. She blinked, her body easing back from the edge.
“Say you’re not leaving.”
“No.”
“Fiona. Say it.”
“I can’t.”
He withdrew from her. He went into the closet. She heard him open his safe, then heard the sound of something heavy being set in there before he locked it again.
He picked up his knife from his nightstand, then knelt by her feet again. She watched him warily as he fastened his KA-BAR sheath to her ankle.
“You have the tool you need so that you can do what you have to when you leave.”
“Kelan—” She sighed and bent down to remove it.
“Leave it.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“So you’re not leaving.”
She didn’t answer that. His lips thinned. Even in the dim light, she could tell the tension about him deepened.
He lifted the corner of his blankets. “Get in.”
She stood. His knife sheath was heavy, the leather hard. It felt like an ankle monitor. She slipped under his arm and scooted across the bed. Bending her knee, she tried to unbuckle the thing before he got in bed.
“Leave it,” he ordered.
He rolled her over onto her belly. Catching her hands in one of his, he kneed her legs apart. His hand stroked her back. It was big and warm, and his light touch sent shivers through her.
He kissed her at the base of her neck. His mouth moved over her shoulder, then her spine, which he followed all the way down to her ass. He bit one cheek.
She gasped.
He moved his hand between her legs and slipped two fingers in to her. It felt intoxicating to surrender so completely to him. She felt safe…and manipulated when he withdrew his fingers.
She pushed up to her knees. “Kelan Shiozski—don’t you dare use sex to control me.”
He was sucking her juices from his fingers. “Don’t leave me.”
“King will not stop.”
“Neither will I.” He put his finger in her mouth. “Taste yourself.” He smiled and licked his lips. “You’re like strawberries and cream. Just like I knew you would be.”
She touched her tongue to his finger, tasting something sweet and tangy. She couldn’t take much more. She pulled free of his hold, then straddled his thighs. Glaring at him, she unfastened his jeans.