“Hitting him back is only going to make things worse.” Brock rose to his feet, moving carefully from the table. “Our Marly’s a beauty, and the feeling’s already there Sam. Let it come to him naturally, or someone’s going to get hurt.” Brock moved away from the table, his stride casual and easy.
“How often is he right?” Greg asked them curiously.
Sam frowned. “I don’t know. He’s never done anything like that before.”
Brock had always left Sam and Marly to their pranks, standing back, watching with a tolerant expression when they messed up.
“Do you think he’s right?” Marly asked worriedly. “Cade was furious, Sam. Maybe someone less dangerous than Dillon would have been a good idea.”
Dillon was nearly as tall as the August boys, with dark brown hair and vivid green eyes. He was lean and muscular, and the worst flirt Marly had ever met.
“Dillon’s a pussycat.” Sam laughed. “The rumors are false for the most part. I know. Those orgies in the mountains he’s accused of have actually been fishing trips with me and the boys. I can’t tell you the times we’ve laughed over that boy and his growing reputation, and the fact he hardly does a thing to deserve it.”
Marly looked at him
in surprise. “Does Cade know that?”
“Hell no. He’d ruin it all, Marly. Dillon loves his reputation. Let the boy enjoy it while he can.” Sam was utterly complacent in his part in it all. “You just get dressed up real pretty for that ride he’s gonna take you on. I promise, he won’t try anything. He knows I would kill him.”
The utter confidence in his tone was a good indication that Sam had laid out a heavy threat to the other man. Marly just wondered how he had convinced Dillon to join the game.
“So all that talk about me being able to handle him was just talk.” She grinned at his deception.
“You couldn’t handle a kitten in a wet paper bag,” he grinned. “And none of us would trust another man not to hurt you, except one of us. So it’s a damned good thing you chose Cade to go after.”
“I’d like to point out that Cade may not agree with you,” Greg said softly in concern. “What if Marly gets hurt in all this, Sam?”
Sam frowned. “No way in hell. We can’t stand to see her cry, least of all Cade. He’ll take care of her, boy. Just you wait and see. Trust me.” They all winced.
* * * * *
He was going to end up killing Dillon Carlyle. Cade flung himself into his desk chair and stared across the room in growing fury. But first, he was going to kill Sam. What had possessed his normally protective brother to allow Marly within ten miles of the depraved creature Dillon was? Not that the guy didn’t have his good points, but Cade knew he would commit murder if he dared to touch Marly. His control wouldn’t be able to handle it. And damn her, she better be wearing more clothes when Dillon showed up than she was wearing now. That short dress, despite the long sleeves, was a killer. The stretchy silk clung to every curve of her body like a second skin. And her damned nipples were hard again. Didn’t she wear a bra?
He groaned, closing his eyes. He wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t. But he couldn’t forget either. The sight of her kneeling at his feet, his flesh hard and thick sinking into her mouth as she watched him with dazed desire. The sounds of her suckling, her moans of need as he spurted harshly inside her. The memory of the night before seared in his brain. Bent over before him, her lovely rear bare and vulnerable to him, that fucking plug stretching her, driving him crazy. He groaned, his head pressing into the back of the chair as his fingers gripped it tightly. God, he wanted her. Wanted her so desperately he was in danger of hurting her if he managed to get his hands on her again.
Next time, he swore. Next time he had her soft and hot, he was going to fuck the living hell out of her before he ever let her away from him. No. He shook his head roughly. Dammit. He couldn’t take her like that. Not like he had the women before her. His sexuality was like a beast when set loose. Marly deserved gentle, sweet loving, not the dominating sexuality he couldn’t rein in when it was given a chance to free itself. And there would be no controlling it. There was never a way to control it, especially when the need was riding him this hard.
Yet, he couldn’t force himself to call any of the available women he knew. The thought of it was instantly reprehensible. A betrayal. He shook his head. That wasn’t true, this attraction to Marly was the betrayal, and he was going to have to remember that.
But he couldn’t convince his body, or his unruly brain. He closed his eyes, and instantly he saw her, naked and willing, soft and inviting. He would move over her, parting her thighs, lowering his head. His tongue would touch and taste, his fingers would explore and invade. He remembered the feel of her tight little rear clenched around his finger and wondered—no. He opened his eyes, breathing harshly, fighting to contain the lust.
As he sat and brooded over his present predicament, a firm knock at the door interrupted his dark musings.
“What?” he barked, unconcerned that his temper showed in his voice.
The door opened, and one of the ranch hands, Bret, stepped hesitantly inside the study.
“Boss, we just found one of the mares injured. You want to come out and look at her?”
Cade rose quickly to his feet. “Which one?”
“Storm’s Promise. She came in from pasture a little bit ago and she’s hurt.” The cowboy scratched his jaw in confusion. “She was fine yesterday.”
Storm’s Promise was Marly’s horse. Grabbing his hat from the corner of the desk, Cade shoved it on his head. He only hoped no one had told Marly about the horse. The old mare was too fragile to ride anymore, but Cade knew she was attached to it.
“What’s wrong with her?” He kept his voice low as they left the house and rushed toward the barn.
“She’s been shot, appears to me like.” Bret shook his head. “I put a call in to the vet, he should be here any time now. He was just out at Carlyle’s ranch and fixin’ to leave anyway. Strange thing is, Cade, none of us heard any shots, and that mare wasn’t far enough away that we wouldn’t have heard it.”