Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Canyon) (11 page)

Eleven

B
en pulled into the motel and parked in front of the entrance. Claire got out to stretch her legs a little after sitting in the car for so long. They walked into the lobby together and up to the front desk.

A short young man with shaggy brown hair looked up. “May I help you?”

“We need a couple of rooms,” Ben said. “Just for the night.”

Or at least that was what Claire hoped. Ben hoped he would be able to locate Hutchins on the internet. Or that his friend would find him in the morning. Even if that didn’t happen, Claire figured Ben would be too anxious to wait and would rather push farther down the road.

The desk clerk pounded on his keyboard, then turned back to them. “Sorry, sir, we only have one room left but it has two queen beds. That’s the best we can do.”

Ben nodded, rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Thanks, anyway.” He turned to Claire. “We’ll head down the highway a ways, see what else we can find.”

Claire shook her head. “You’re exhausted. Both of us are. I’m not afraid to sleep in the same room with you.” She ignored the way his gaze sharpened, the way it made her stomach contract.

“You sure?”

“I can trust you, right?”

His mouth edged up. “Mostly. You’re safe with me tonight...if that’s what you want.”

A flush crept into her face as she turned back to the desk clerk. “We’ll take it.”

The young man slid the paperwork across the counter. Ben filled it out, and the man handed each of them a key.

“Number 203. Second floor, down at the far end of the hall. You can park down there and use your key to get into the building. Take the stairs to the second floor.”

Ben stuffed the key into his pocket. “Thanks.” Heading back to the SUV, he moved the car to a parking space at the other end of the motel. All the way there, Claire worried she had made the wrong decision.

She wasn’t really going to sleep with Ben, she told herself. Not in the literal sense. She was just sleeping in a bed in the same room with him. But her heart was beating a little too fast, making her wonder if she would actually get any sleep.

“I hope this is a good idea,” he said, reading her mind as he opened the motel room door and held it for her to walk in towing her carry-on. He walked in behind her and tossed his canvas duffel onto the overstuffed chair.

He turned on the lamp beside one of the beds. “Ladies first. You get first shot at the bathroom.”

She nodded. “Thanks.” Tugging her bag in that direction, she went inside and locked the door. Thank heavens there was a fan so he wouldn’t be able to hear what she was doing.

She showered and brushed her teeth, then pulled on the white sleep tee with a teddy bear on the front that she had brought with her. It covered her sufficiently from neck to midthigh, but when she walked out of the bathroom and noticed the way Ben was looking at her, she felt half-naked.

There was a bottle of water on the dresser. She cracked it open and took a drink, noticed his computer set up on the desk. “Find anything?”

Ben just shook his head. “Looks like it’s going to take more than just a name. Might even be an alias. I’ll call Sol first thing in the morning.” Ben headed for the bathroom, his expression tired and grim.

Claire was under the covers pretending to be asleep when he came back out. Through lowered lashes, she watched him, noticing he wore only a pair of white cotton briefs, figured even that was a concession to her.

He walked over to the other bed and stood with his back to her, testing the firmness of the mattress, drawing back the covers. Long, powerful legs, wide muscular shoulders that veed to a pair of narrow hips. When he turned, she allowed herself to enjoy his amazing pecs and six-pack abs.

Her eyes widened as her gaze moved lower.

“It’s not my fault, angel, if the way you’re looking at me is making me hard.”

Oh, God! She closed her eyes tightly, pretended not to hear him.

“Seems to me it’s my turn to look at you.” Walking over, he jerked back the covers. Claire shrieked as a shot of cold air hit her, then flushed when she discovered her sleep tee had ridden clear up on her hips. She was wearing a pair of white cotton bikini panties, but they didn’t cover much. She grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and tugged it back down.

“Very nice,” he said, tossing the blankets back over her. “If I hadn’t promised you’d be safe, I’d climb in there with you. I don’t suppose you’d reconsider.”

She looked up at him standing there completely aroused and not the least bit embarrassed. Claire’s stomach contracted and her nipples tightened.

“We...we need to get some sleep,” she said and rolled over on her side, facing away from him.

“Good luck with that,” Ben grumbled, then walked over and flopped down on the bed.

Claire wasn’t sure how much time passed. Minutes that seemed like hours as her mind kept replaying the sight of Ben Slocum, standing there in all his almost-naked glory, fiercely aroused. She closed her eyes but sleep remained elusive. It irritated her that Ben didn’t have the same problem. It was the sound of his deep, even breathing that finally put her to sleep.

* * *

It was three in the morning when Claire awakened. Unaccustomed to the desert dryness, she reached for the bottle of water she had set on the nightstand and took a long drink. The room felt strangely quiet as she set the bottle back down. She looked over at the other bed. It was empty.

Claire jolted up off the mattress, certain Ben had left her and taken off on his own. Then she saw him on the deck outside the sliding glass doors.

He had pulled on his jeans but wore no shirt, and his feet were bare. He stood with his back to her, staring out at the desert. There was something in the rigid set of his shoulders that moved her, the way he stood with his long legs splayed as if he faced some unseen foe. He seemed so isolated, so alone.

Laura had always said that Ben was a man who needed no one, and yet there were times Claire caught glimpses of the gentler, more vulnerable man he kept locked inside.

She hadn’t missed the relief on his face when Lyla Holden had told him Sam seemed all right. Ben might not know it, but already he loved his son.

Claire watched him staring into the darkness and wished she could comfort him in some way. It was foolish, wanting to comfort a man who would shun the very thought of it.

Still, she found herself moving toward the door leading out to the deck, sliding it open, stepping into the soft night and warm desert heat. The moment she did, he turned and their eyes met. Hers uncertain, his cool and remote. When she moistened her lips, his icy stare shifted, changed to a look of burning intensity.

A single instant of hesitation, then he strode toward her, pulled her into his arms, and his mouth crushed down over hers.

Heat,
was all she could think.
Power and determination.
Claire swayed on her feet as need washed through her, so strong she wasn’t sure if it was his or her own. Her lips parted under his relentless assault, welcomed the invasion of his tongue, and her arms slid up around his neck. He stroked deeply into her mouth even as he moved her backward up against the wall, into the shadowy darkness on the balcony. The kiss grew wetter, hotter, hungrier.

She could feel his erection, thick and hard against her belly; his hands, big and strong, easing up her nightshirt, cupping her bottom, pulling her more solidly against him. Sensation rippled through her, heat and desire, lust unlike any she had ever known.

“God, I want you,” he said against the side of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. Goose bumps rose wherever he touched. “I need you, angel.”

Her breathing hitched as his hands moved to her breasts, cupping them through the soft cotton fabric. She understood his need. Worry ate at him, thoughts of the past, the woman he had once loved and the son he had never known. His ghosts were haunting him tonight, and there were times even a strong man like Ben needed to connect, to feel the closeness of someone who cared.

Claire moaned as his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place as he ravished her mouth. Her own need swelled. It was wrong, she knew. There was too much at risk. Sam’s life was at stake.

But what about Ben? His child was missing, a child he might never know. Sam needed her, but so did Ben.

It took a moment for her to realize he had paused, that he was no longer touching her. When she opened her eyes, she stared into a pair as pale and hot as the tip of a flame. He was waiting, holding himself back. Keeping his word.

Claire read the need in those ice-blue eyes, and her heart expanded. Rising on her toes, she cupped his face between her hands, felt the roughness of his late-night beard and very softly kissed him.

Ben groaned and the dam of his control suddenly burst. Hard hands moved over her breasts, her belly, slid beneath her nightshirt, smoothed over the globes of her bottom. He had left the decision to her, and she had silently given him her permission. Now there was no turning back.

His fingers moved under the elastic of her white panties. Claire gasped as he ripped them away. Ben caught the sound in her mouth, kissing her deeply, taking control of her body and perhaps a little of her soul. She barely heard the buzz of his zipper sliding down, barely noticed the protection he pulled out of his back pocket, ripped open and slid onto his powerful erection.

Then he was lifting her, stroking her softness, finding her more than ready, feeling her tremble. A single deep thrust and he was buried to the hilt, drawing a low moan from her throat. For a moment he stilled, giving her time to adjust to his size and length, fighting for control.

Claire didn’t want control. Not now, now when she had taken the irreversible step and given herself to him. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him wildly, deeply, urging him on, wanting what his hard body had promised. Ben lifted her, propped her back against the wall, wrapped her legs around his waist and started to move, slowly at first, then faster, deeper, harder.

Fierce, pounding thrusts sent pleasure spinning through her. She felt consumed and on fire, clinging to his neck, trembling as he took her more deeply, took her until all she could think of was the pleasure, and Ben, and how good it felt to have him inside her. She didn’t expect the powerful climax that seized her, forced a cry from her lips. She shuddered with the force of it and just hung on.

An instant later, Ben’s powerful body tightened and he followed her to release.

* * *

Claire.
Her name rang in his head.
Claire.
He hadn’t expected what she’d given him tonight. When she’d stepped out into the moonlight looking like the dark-haired angel he called her, he’d told himself to leave her alone, that she was only offering friendship. But he had needed a woman tonight, needed to feel a woman’s arms around him, needed the taste of a woman in his mouth, the scent of a woman wrapped around him. He hadn’t meant for that woman to be Claire.

Then he’d looked into those wide green eyes and seen something in their uncertain depths, something that reflected the same need he was feeling. Her soft kiss had been his undoing, and for a moment, he’d lost control. He’d wanted her badly, had since the morning she had talked her way into his living room. But he didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to break the trust she had given him.

He loved sex. Loved women who loved sex. Women who wanted what he had to offer and took it freely. Even then, some of them he’d wound up hurting. More than a few. He’d didn’t quite know why. He’d always been open and honest, never pulled any punches.

He was who he was, and he figured that wasn’t going to change.

Now everything had changed. Now he was a father.

Now there was Claire.

He took care of the condom, tossing it into the waste can out on the deck, shifted her into his arms and carried her toward the sliding glass doors. Claire leaned her head against his shoulder, her mahogany hair spilling over his chest as he made his way back into the motel room and settled her in the middle of her bed.

For several long moments, he just stood there staring down at her, wondering if she regretted what she had given him. Figuring she probably did. He’d rushed her, taken what he wanted. What he’d so desperately needed. He hadn’t expected her to be so responsive, so passionate. Hadn’t figured her to climax so fast and so hard.

A red-car woman after all.

Another time he might have smiled.

“I was rough with you,” he said a little gruffly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But even if he hadn’t, in a different way, sooner or later he would.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“What do you want from me, Claire?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes on his face. “I could ask the same of you.”

He knew what he wanted, what he had no right to. “I want more of you. A lot more. I’ve wanted you since you walked into my house and I asked you to make me a pot of coffee.”

“
Ordered
me to make you a pot of coffee.”

He didn’t smile. “I’m not an easy man.”

Her mouth faintly curved. “No.”

“Outside just now, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” But it had, and he had been right. Sleeping with Claire didn’t feel like just sex. There was something about her, something strong and brave and dependable that drew him. Yet she was as soft and feminine as any woman he had ever known.

“You asked me what I want,” she said. “I want you to make love to me again. I want you to sleep in my bed. In the morning, I want you to forget this ever happened. I want you to pretend nothing has changed so we can go on the way we were. So that we can find Sam.”

It was a wet dream come true. A woman who wanted ten-shot-tequila sex. Sex with no memory at all of what had happened. No morning-after regrets. He wondered why it bothered him.

He made no reply, just peeled off his jeans and climbed into bed beside her. He kissed her as he lifted off her soft cotton nightshirt, ignoring the teddy bear on the front that somehow made him feel guilty. He looked his fill at her perfect, apple-round breasts, went hard again, almost to the point of pain.