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“Who was worried?” Hell, he almost came in his jeans just thinking about her watching.

“Sam.” Her voice warned him that he was treading dangerous ground. A subject she didn’t want to discuss, one she refused to understand.

“Fine, Heather.” He breathed out roughly. “Now go tuck yourself into bed and I’ll play nice and stay in the house tonight. How’s that? But get your ass off my bed and out of my bedroom before I forget why you were attacked, and why I can’t have you. Because God’s truth, I’m within minutes of fucking you until you can’t move.”

“Amazing.” Her voice was mocking. “I’m convinced the August men stole testosterone and stamina at birth. You three are like bunnies.”

“Keep it up and you’ll find out,” he grunted, fighting not to touch her as she moved slowly from the bed.

“Fine, I need to sleep anyway.” She shrugged, though he could feel the hurt echoing in the air around him. “More damned shopping tomorrow. As though either of those women need more dresses. Rick’s going to have to give this up soon.”

Sam stilled, watching her closely as she leaned against the tall poster of the bed.

“He’s still trying to draw the stalker out?” It would make the fourth venture into town.

Rick was convinced that the stalker had to be living close, in a position to hear the gossip concerning the August men and to sneak in and out of the ranch unnoticed.

“We have to do something, Sam. We can’t just wait on him to strike.” She shook her head, sighing roughly. “No one will be safe until he’s stopped.”

“Putting the three of you in danger isn’t the answer.” He turned away from her, rage ricocheting through him. “Goddammit. The bastard isn’t sane.” He shuddered as dark memories twisted inside him. “Heather, you don’t know. You don’t know what he could do to you.”

But Sam knew. He knew the pain and the horror, the bleak evil that could infect such men’s minds.

“We aren’t in danger, Sam.” She came to him, moving easily, comfortably into his arms as he opened them for her.

He needed to hold her. Just hold her. To feel her soft and warm against him, to feel, that for a moment, he was keeping her safe, keeping her sheltered. It was all he could allow himself for now.

“You’re all in danger.” He lowered his head, inhaling the clean, delicate scent of her.

“Rick will take care of us, and we’ll be surrounded by the bodyguards.” She moved back from him a second after he felt her tight nipples pressing into his chest through their shirts, though he kept her in the circle of his arms. “I just hate the shopping part.” The wry amusement in her voice was designed to distract him. He knew that, and for the moment allowed her to believe she had succeeded.

“Buy a dress,” he whispered, bending down to nuzzle her ear as she shivered sensually. “Something short and light. Something to show off those pretty legs of yours.”

“I don’t think so.” He could hear the breathless quality of her voice. “I’ve seen what happens to the women in this house when they wear dresses. I’ll just keep my jeans for now, thank you.” She pressed against his chest, an indication of her need for escape.

“Heather.” His arms contracted around her, loathe to release her. “If the danger weren’t so high, the situation so desperate, I’d show you in a way you could understand. Explain everything in such sensual actions that you would never forget. I’d love you, baby, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“Sounds good, Sammy.” Her voice was soft, sad. “Let me know when you run out of excuses, okay? I might be willing to try then.”

She moved away from him, glancing over her shoulder as she turned her back on him. For a moment, from the light of the other bedroom, he thought he saw a sheen of tears. But then she turned away and stepped slowly into her own room, closing the door behind her. The darkness enveloped him, inside and out.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed the situation, cursed the throbbing desperation of his hard cock. He couldn’t be around her, couldn’t think about her, without growing spike hard.

Being with Sarah or Marly didn’t help. It eased the demons, but not the emotional and physical demands that Heather inspired. He grimaced as he undressed for bed, throwing the clothes carelessly on the floor.

The bed was big, wide enough for three, and too damned lonely. He lay atop the blankets, staring up at the ceiling bleakly, then to the door that separated the two rooms as his eyes narrowed in intent.

Jerking a tube of lubrication from the beside table drawer, he squeezed a healthy amount into the palm of his hand, then stroked it over his straining cock as he imagined her. Imagined her coming to him, her soft body naked, hot, taking him, needing him.

His fingers tightened around the throbbing shaft as the images of Heather, naked, wet and wild, drifted through his mind. She would be tight. So damned tight. He stifled his groan as he stroked his straining cock, his fingers moving slowly over the scarred flesh as they tightened with the thought of Heather’s tight, soft cunt.

She would grip him, sear him. His hips flexed, his cock pulsing to the imagined sensation as his fingers stroked over the bulging flesh. The pace of his hand increased as he imagined her cries, her expression going slack with pleasure, her pussy tightening, spasming. He couldn’t stop the strangled groan as his cock exploded, spewing his creamy release over his hard abdomen as the pleasure tingled up his spine.

“Now that wasn’t fair.” His eyes snapped open as Heather stared at him from the doorway. And she was pissed. “Don’t use my fucking name, Sam, unless it’s me you’re actually fucking.”

She turned and slammed the door as she left again, leaving him surprised, a shade embarrassed, and so damned hard again he could do nothing but growl in misery.

Chapter Two


Tags: Lora Leigh Men of August Erotic