Stealing Home

chapter 21



FOR FOUR DAYS Lorelei kept up pretenses. Smiled and put on a happy face. Played with Michelle and dabbled at a few articles, helped Logan around the ranch. She even started to till the vegetable garden, prepping it for the seedlings she had started on the back porch. On the outside she looked like she was just fine.

Inside she was miserable.

Her brother was returning to riding bulls, she was afraid Michelle was coming down with a cold—which was never good and always terrifying, and she missed Mark. She’d gnaw off her left foot before she’d ever admit to it though.

It was for the best that she’d ended things. She knew that. He had a demanding baseball career, she had gardening articles. It didn’t take looking beyond their jobs to see how very different they were.

Even if he showed up and asked her to take him back she’d say no. It would never work between them. Men like Mark married flashy, exciting women. And women like her settled down with dependable, steady types.

She kept telling herself that as she pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. With Logan and Michelle gone for the day at the doctor for a regular checkup and physical therapy, she’d taken the opportunity to air out the house and clean. While she’d been away Logan had let the laundry pile up, and she’d spent the past few hours washing and folding.

She reached the clothesline and set down the basket full of wet clothes. With a snap of fabric she draped one of her brother’s denim shirts over the line and shook her booty to Aerosmith’s “Dude Looks Like a Lady” as it spilled through the open windows of the house.

Since it was laundry day and seventy degrees of Colorado perfection she had on a baggy sweater and her wash day shorts. They were hot pink cotton short-shorts that barely covered her behind and gave her legs a good tan.

She had to admit it felt good to be home. For a moment Lorelei closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun, let the warm rays wash over her. She stood there enjoying the slight breeze, the happy sound of birds chirping nearby, and the simple joy of hanging laundry on a warm spring day.

The phone rang, startling her. Lorelei hung another shirt before she reached for where it lay on the grass next to the wicker laundry basket. She bent down, her behind wiggling in time to the music, and snatched it up.

She hit the talk button on the cordless and draped a white T-shirt on the line. “Hello?”

“Lorelei?”

She almost dropped the phone. “Mark?”

“I’ve got an issue with you, sweetheart.”

Her heart slammed into her chest. Why was he calling her? She dropped a pair of her wet panties. When she bent to retrieve them she heard him groan into the phone and she asked, “Are you all right? You sound like you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine.

She ignored that because something else occurred to her. “How’d you get my phone number?”

His deep voice growled into the phone, “Don’t change the subject, Lorelei.”

Her stomach turned to liquid. She distinctly remembered wishing she could talk to him over the phone to hear his voice isolated like that. Now she was and his voice was like sex. Raw, rough, hard. Just like he was.

And what was she doing thinking about him like that anyway? It was over between them.

She grabbed another shirt, hung it, and tried for blasé. “What do you want, Mark?”

“You, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

Well, that plan was shot to hell. She couldn’t pull off blasé if her life depended on it. Not with his rugged, masculine voice saying things like that to her.

“Do you often pull your hair up on your head with a scarf like Daisy Duke? Did I ever tell you she was my first crush? It does wild things to me that you do your hair like her.”

She frowned at his odd questions. “Sometimes I pull it up with one, yeah. Why are you calling, Mark? You got your lucky charm back.”

His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “I’ve been thinking about you, fantasizing about you in a skimpy pair of hot pink shorts. Makes me want to take a bite out of you. Would you want that, Lorelei? Do you want me to eat you?” His voice had dropped to a hot whisper by the time he’d finished.

Of course she did. That was part of the problem. Being eaten by Mark Cutter was as addictive as a drug and she was an addict. She needed AA. Hello, I’m Lorelei Littleton and I’m addicted to Mark Cutter’s spectacular mouth.

But he didn’t need to know that. “Not particularly.”

His laugh came through the phone and she felt her lips twitch in response. He had the best sense of humor.

“Be that way, then. But I’m wise to you, honey. So, question: What do you think about squirrels?”

Squirrels? What in the world? “In what context?”

“Cute or menace.”

Lorelei contemplated and snapped another shirt, shaking out the wrinkles. “Cute, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“Look around.”

She spun and looked down, a gasp stuck in her throat. Sure enough, there was a fat, brown squirrel rifling through the wet laundry. She took a step forward and it leaped from her basket, dragging a pair of her wet underwear with it. The rodent raced, tail twitching, toward the nearest tree. Lorelei dropped the phone and dashed after it. What the hell was wrong with that animal? Somebody needed to tell it that squirrels collected nuts, not Fruit Of The Looms.

The faint sound of laughter stopped her dead in her tracks and twirled her right back around, her panties instantly forgotten. It was Mark’s laugh. And it didn’t sound like it was coming from the phone. It sounded far too close. Wait a minute . . .

Where was he?

Her gaze raked over the backyard, hungry for the sight of him. Nothing. Only the big old white house behind her, tulips and daffodils spread at its feet. Nothing but Steven Tyler, the great expanse of lawn carpeted with spring grass, and the tire swing swaying gently in the breeze.

Disappointment speared through her. Mark had just made a lucky guess, that’s all. It’s for the best, she told herself as she bent to retrieve the phone, held it in her hands, and stared at it. Should she even talk to him anymore? Torment herself with what she couldn’t have? Draw out the misery? She hung up the phone.

Mark was a game she couldn’t play anymore. Had stopped playing that night when everything had changed between them. It was her choice.

So why did she feel like crying?

Lorelei scrubbed her hands over her face, pressed fingers against the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes against the hot sting of tears. Hadn’t she vowed not to get in so deep with him that he could hurt her? That she wouldn’t hang around long enough to see him leave? Well, she’d been the one to do the leaving. That was true. But her plan had backfired—her heart had gotten involved after all.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to hang up when someone’s talking to you?”

Her body tensed, every single nerve went pinging through her. Opening her eyes, she dropped her hands and slowly turned around. Felt her world tip dangerously beneath her feet.

There he was, standing in her backyard in a pair of jeans, a black baseball cap, and a faded gray T-shirt that said “Baseball Players Give Good Wood,” looking better than any man had a right to. And her heart plummeted right down to her pink painted toes. “What are you doing here, Mark?”

His running shoes made a muffled sound on the grass as he advanced on her. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two and had the stubble to prove it. Dark blond hair curled around the bottom of his cap and smudges darkened the undersides of his eyes. They were hot, but his scowl was hotter.

He was mad, bad, and so damn good it hurt her heart to look at him.

Lorelei tore her gaze from him and swallowed hard. Focusing on a new foal and its mother in the pasture to her right, she said, “Go away, Mark. There’s nothing here for you.”

He didn’t stop until he’d invaded her personal space and his body heat washed over her. His voice had a hard edge. “You owe me an explanation, Lorelei.”

Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. It wasn’t fair, just wasn’t fair at all. She’d given him his stupid necklace back. There was no reason for him to be there, messing with her emotions. “I don’t owe you anything. That stopped the minute you got your necklace back.”

The brim of his hat shadowed the top half of his face when he lowered his head to her and demanded to know, “Are you telling me I’m nothing to you? That what we’ve shared means nothing?”

It meant everything. “That’s right. It was a good time while it lasted, but I got bored so I left. No offense.”

He made a warning sound low in his throat. She still refused to look at him—couldn’t. “You got bored?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, nodded. “That’s right.”

“Prove it,” he demanded after he cursed.

Why was he doing this to her? Wasn’t he glad to have his life back? No strings, no complications. Wasn’t that what he wanted? “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

His hands shot out and gripped her hips, pulled her close. “Why?” he taunted. “Afraid you’ll show your bluff? That I’ll know you’re a liar? News flash, I already know that. You’ve done nothing but lie to me—now it’s time for the truth.”

Emotions crashed over her in brutal waves, too much for her to take. She pushed hard against his chest. Taken by surprise by the attack, Mark rocked back far enough for her to yank out of his grip. The second his hands released her she was running to the house. She heard him let out a string of curses, then take off after her. “Damn it, Lorelei,” he called after her, “come back here, you little coward. I’m not through with you.”

Her pulse leaped at the threat and she barreled up the steps to the back porch, swung the door open, and had it ripped out of her hands and slammed shut. Mark spun her around and pinned her to the door as his large body came up hard against her. Air rushed from his chest and washed hot over her face. When she struggled he just gripped her hands and flattened them over her head.

“Let me go.” She was breathless. His body was so close and it was making her crazy. He was making her crazy. Too many emotions racked her. It was just too much, period.

“No. I’m never letting you go again.” Hard gray eyes stared her down. “Get used to it.”

Lorelei stopped struggling. What was he saying? “It’s over. We both know it. Maybe you just don’t want to admit it because you’re a sore loser.”

Full, sensual lips scorched her skin when he kissed the side of her neck. “It’s not over between us, sweetheart. Not even close. Now kiss me and prove to me how bored I make you because you don’t feel bored now. You feel hot and soft and so damn good.” His open mouth trailed over her jaw, making her knees weak.

His voice was caught between a demand and a plea when he whispered roughly against her mouth, “Kiss me.”

She kissed him. Against her better judgment. Despite the voice in her head screaming at her not to. She did. On the back steps of her house because she couldn’t stop it. And because she wanted to more than she wanted anything.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest when her mouth opened under his. He released her hands and shoved a heavy thigh between her legs, pushed it against her crotch. The brim of his baseball cap hit her in the head and she ripped it off, flung it away. Then her hands were in his hair, pulling at him. They were streaking over his shoulders, her nails digging into the hard muscles. They were tearing at the waistband of his faded jeans.

She couldn’t get enough of him.

When her hands dove under his shirt and encountered the hard, corrugated plane of his stomach he tore his mouth from her and growled, “To the bedroom. Now.”

Because she couldn’t help herself she clamped her legs around his lean waist and gave him wet, drugging kisses. She felt him fumble for the doorknob and push the door open. As he stumbled through the door into her house, the screen door slapping behind them, she ran her tongue over his throat. Tasted his skin.

“Jesus.” His hands gripped the backs of her thighs below her butt, hard.

She laughed against his neck when he stubbed his toe against the wood stairs and almost toppled them to the floor. He released a very creative oath and flung a hand against the wall, saving them. When she sucked the skin below his jaw he tripped again. “Am I distracting you?” She bit his ear.

“Hell, yes,” he ground out. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t, and when they crashed through the door to her room and hit the bed she was so turned on she almost came. Almost climaxed right then, when he fell on top of her and thrust his erection hard against her. Tremors started and her muscles clenched. She gasped, “Hurry.”

Sunlight streamed through the open windows and fell across his face when he leaned back. He was so beautiful to her that her heart floundered in her chest. His normally clear eyes were totally glazed with passion. His lips were slick from her kisses. “Tell me what you want,” he panted.

His hands raced over her stomach as he pushed her sweater over her head and threw it on the floor. Her white cotton bra went next, and when her breasts were free he groaned.

“I want you naked,” she demanded, impatient for the sight of him.

In less than a minute he stripped until he was wearing nothing but skin and a condom. Her gaze ran hungrily over his body until it settled on his heavy erection jutting out from the patch of dark blond pubic hair. Her stomach shuddered in response to the sight of him, made her ache for what he had. She licked her lips and his hard-on jerked in reaction. He smiled and moved to her.

He stopped at the foot of the bed by her feet and Lorelei watched him reach out, felt the callused palms and strong fingers wrap around her ankles. Honed muscles flexed as he yanked, pulled her down the bed. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he said with a wicked grin.

Then his hands stroked up the insides of her thighs, and nothing had ever felt better in her life. Lorelei knew it didn’t change anything. There was no way for the two of them to work. They lived in different worlds.

But when his hand was palming her through her shorts and his fingers were slipping behind the cotton fabric to touch her where she throbbed for him, she didn’t care. All she knew when his thumb found her *oris and rubbed was that she’d explode if he didn’t take her soon.

He shifted her, and then her shorts and panties were flying through the air. They landed on her computer desk, her flower-printed panties draping from the corner of her open laptop.

His harsh voice made her wet and achy for him. “I’ve spent the past week hard for you. Nothing’s worked to cool the fever you’ve started in my blood. I’d think of your mouth, the way it had felt so slick and hot around me that night in my car, and my cock would turn to stone. When I’d try to take care of it I’d see your hot little p-ssy and my hand wasn’t enough. I wanted your hands on me stroking me off, not mine.” He dropped to the floor between her knees. “I needed you.”

“Oh God,” she breathed. Her hands fisted into the quilt.

Mark laughed and slid his hands under her behind, spread her thighs, and pulled her to his mouth. “He’s not going to save you now.” His wet tongue stroked boldly, aggressively over her. “You’re mine.”

A strong finger slid inside her as his mouth covered her fully and it made her cry out. “Mark!”

Another finger joined the first. His tongue rolled over her * and he sucked. Used tongue and lips and suction on her with single-minded intent. Her muscles started to quiver on the edge of orgasm. Wanting more, wanting to go over the brink, she raised her knees and placed her feet on his shoulders, arched into his mouth.

A growl ripped from him, vibrated against her before he pulled back. His voice was rough, raw with arousal. “Look at me,” he demanded.

She opened her eyes and stared down her body. Sexual desire rolled off him and slammed against her. His body was rock-hard beneath her knees. “Don’t ever leave me again. Do you hear me? I don’t think I could take it.” Mark straightened slowly, pulled her bottom off the bed until she was positioned over him, the thick head of his penis pushing against her. “Say it. Tell me you’ll never leave me again.”

His hard hands gripped her butt and she tried to slide onto his erection, but he held her off. He rubbed the hot length of him against her opening until it was slick with her moisture and she was panting with need. “I need to hear the words,” he said just above a ragged whisper. “Tell me you’ll stay.” This time it wasn’t a demand. It was a plea.

But she couldn’t say it. So Lorelei did what she knew they both wanted instead. She gripped the end of the bed and shoved off the edge, buried him all the way inside her in one long thrust. The hot circumference of him filled her up and she quivered around him, moved against him.

He gasped. “Damn you. Why can’t you just say it?”

Because she was still so scared. So she shifted her hips and rotated them, ground flush against him. Rubbed against the base of him. Mark swore violently and pulled out, rocked into her. Thrust in deep again on a primal moan.

They forgot all about talking.