Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (24 page)

“Come
on, Flayme, you can suffer through anything,” she told herself, pressing her
nose a little closer. She savored the pure, raw aroma of the man. Oh, yeah,
this was pure hell. She simply couldn’t imagine having to go through anything
worse than this torture. Manly scent. Flayme couldn’t quite figure out the
fragrance of the out-of-this-world aftershave that teased the senses.

My, oh, my, why
hadn’t he put his shirt back on?
She swore he lived to torture her. She
licked her suddenly dry l
ips and stifled a moan. Did he have to leave all that
expanse of chest bared to her gaze or
—
ooh
—
her fingers
itched like crazy with the need to take a stroll through the patch of hair
lightly dusting his chest.

Flayme curled her nails into her hands and ig
nored
the sharp pain. Resisted temptation
—
barely,
but the
hasty dressing he’d pressed against the wound reminded her she’d
injured him. He wasn’t going to welcome any advances from her—ever.

Ooh!
Those soft
little sounds she’d first heard from him back i
n D.C.
—
faint snores
—
which
seemed like days ago now
—
reverberated
in her ears.

She was too close. Way too close, in more ways than one.
If she wanted to escape, she had to keep this impersonal. Room was what she
needed in order to work her right hand across his stomach. The position she was
in right now left her arm pinned under her side. Crap!

Flayme scooted sideways in a crab-like motion, and prayed
the inch or so of space she created between them was enough. A sigh of relief
escaped her. Yes! She could move her right arm freely, as long as she took his
left arm with her.

Her nostrils flared as she again caught a whiff of his
aftershave. There was just something about a cowboy,
this
cowboy
—
all
that ruggedness and tough as leather, don’t-tread-on-me-or-I’ll
-pull-my-colt,
testosterone, just simmering in his genes. L
eather! That was it. He smelled like
old rawhide and
—
Flayme
snorted. “Old rawhide my ass!” He smelled like sex on the hoof. Hot. Spicy.
When did buckskin become such an aphrodisiac?

Lord, her imagination was going berserk. He wasn’t wearing
buckskin or anything in any form of leather, not even a belt. Flayme skimmed
her eyes down his flat belly, following the trail of dark hair that arrowed
past his waist and disappeared below his beltline. She tried to lean closer,
but ended up tumbling against him. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Oh, God.”

She stilled, but her raspy breaths competed with his soft
snores.

The cowboy stirred.

Damn-damn-damn!

“Nicole?” he mumbled feverishly.

Flayme bit her lip. He sounded ill. She pushed his hat off
his head. He’d probably have a fit because it landed on the floor brim up, but
she didn’t care. She needed to see his face. His eyes. And damn it! Who the
hell was this flippin’
Nicole
he kept
calling to? The woman needed to butt out of her business.

His eyes flickered open. Flayme swallowed hard and splayed
her hands across his chest.

“Nicole?” he repeated urgently when she didn’t answer.

His eyes glittered with a glassy sheen. He blinked, as if
he was having trouble focusing. His cheekbones looked hot and red as cherries.
He licked his dry lips and moaned. Flayme splayed her palm against one whiskery
cheek. God, he was burning up! What if he died? She asked herself that question
for about the hundredth time. She’d have murdered not only an agent, but a
fellow human being. She didn’t think she could live with that knowledge.

Gently, he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “You’re so
beautiful,” he whispered. “I wanna do you, but you know that. Don’t you?”

Do her?
Flayme stifled a snort. That’s just what she needed, a Cowboy Romeo
out-of-his-head with fever
—
craving
sex.

“You okay?” he asked huskily. He dragged her across his
chest. His right arm settled around the lower part of her back.

“Peachy,” she gritted through her teeth. “Your Nicole is
just fine and dandy, cowboy.”

“My Nicole,” he drawled, sighing. His hand dropped to her
ass and he squeezed a butt cheek. “Like the sound of that, baby. Mmm, love the
feel of
that.”
He massaged her ass
again. “Definitely love the feel of that.”

Oh, you do, do you?
Tough!
Because
Nicole
was about to make her big exit. His eyes closed. Flayme drew
a sharp breath. She waited for him to settle back into sleep. Then slowly,
reluctantly, she slid off him. She told herself not to do it, but couldn’t
resist gliding her right hand across his bare midriff. Ahh. Yummy. Talk about
tight. His stomach felt hard as a brick. It fairly shouted, ‘Explore me more!’

Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. A scant inch
more, and she could slide her fingers right inside his jean pocket. Or below
his waistband. A quarter inch. A hair.
Whew!
She was inside. Not past the waistband, although God knew her sorry fingers had
hesitated there before moving on to the pocket. She itched to explore his manly
package, but she had to behave herself to a certain degree.

Instead of going for the branding iron and gold nuggets,
she’d gone for the
other
gold. Her
fingertips touched the warm metal of the key. Shoot. Somehow, it just didn’t
have the same appeal.

Hard, calloused fingers bit into the tender flesh on her
wrist. “Woman, you’re going to have to manage to get a little control of
yourself.”

Flayme squeaked, jumping like a startled chicken.
“Control?” Lord have mercy, but he’d scared the hell outta her!

“Yeah. You go feeling ‘round so close to my
—
uh
—
you
keep feeling around in there, doll baby, and you’ll get hold of something a lot
harder than a key.”

“Auk!
Crap. You
weren’t asleep at all, were you?” Flayme jerked her hand out of his pocket,
leaving the key behind.

“This what you’re looking for?” He held up the shiny key,
amusement in his hot eyes. “Did you honestly think for one minute I’d leave the
key to your freedom within your reach?”

“But…I–I saw you put the key in your pocket.”

“You saw me put
a
key in my pocket, the key to the trunk of my car.” He pulled it out and held it
up. “Is there something in it you want? Need?”

“Jackass!”

He grinned, tossed the key on the nightstand and opened
the drawer. He fumbled inside it for a moment, then held up a shiny steel key.
“I believe this is the one you need.” He slid the key to the cuffs inside his
pocket. “I just wanted to prove to you that you can’t get the key out of my
pocket. I’m a light sleeper. Try it again, and I’ll cuff you to the bathroom
sink.”

“Ooh!
You and I
simply don’t see eye-to-eye. We’ll never get along,” she snapped.

“I’m crushed. Here I was thinking we were getting along
like Tom and Nicole.”

“You’re kidding right? They’re divorced!”

“I know, and we’ll be very divorced if you try for the key
again.”

Flayme flipped on top of him, pounding his chest. “Let me
go!”

“Ouch!
Stop it,
you little wild cat. I’m an injured man.”

“You deserved that for squeezing my ass.”

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist. You’re adorable when
you’re scheming.”

She punched him again. “Let go of me!”

“Control yourself, tigress, you’re the one pinning me down
here.”

“Oh.” So she was.

Duel rolled with her, settling his hard body on top of
hers. She tried slapping him, but her position wasn’t the best for inflicting
pain. Besides, he manacled both her wrists between one of his and grinned like a
damn wolf, all white, shiny teeth and deadly eyes. “It was a test, doll baby,
and you failed. You just proved you can’t be trusted.”

“You better start trusting me, cowboy,” she said through
clenched teeth.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I’m all you’ve got. In a few hours, you’re going to need
my help. The fever has already set in. You can’t fake that, and you’re bleeding
again.”

He glanced at the dressing on his shoulder and moaned.
“Thanks to you, I’m bleeding again. You just had to punch me, didn’t you?”

“You’re adorable
when you’re scheming,”
she said, tossing his words back at him and batting
her eyelashes. “As long as those wounds remain open, they’re going to bleed
with the least bit of exertion on your part. They need cleaning and suturing.”

“And you think I’d turn you loose with a needle to use on
me?”

“If you don’t, you might die.”

He snorted. “If I don’t, I might live longer.”

“You need stitches.”

“Do I look like I’m interested in losing an eye? I give
you a needle, and lady, with your love for sharp things, no telling where you’d
stick me. Uh-uh. Forget it.”

“God, you’re so stubborn.” She fumed. If it had been
possible, she’d have folded her arms beneath her breasts and tapped a foot in
pure frustration. “I wouldn’t dream of stabbing you in the eye with a needle.
Do you really think I’m that dangerous?”

“Uh-huh. I might be stubborn, but one thing I’m not, is a
fool.” He slid his gaze over her face, touching on her eyes, her nose, then
finally zeroing in on her mouth. “I’ve got you exactly where I’ve wanted you
since I first saw you.”

“And that would be when?” Flayme couldn’t keep her gaze
off his mouth. Such luscious lips. She’d never much thought about how a man’s
mouth could be sexy and inviting, but this man’s lips were as fascinating as
sin, and just as tempting. Velvet soft, sexy, and she already knew the taste of
him, the power of his kiss.

“Right after good old Neil tempted you with his offer.”

“What offer?” Flayme frowned. She had no idea what he was
going on about. Somewhere between his fascinating lips and the top button of
his jeans, she’d lost her train of thought, and she wondered just which one of
them was febrile. This man had the ability to scorch her soul.

“There you were, mad as a hornet,” he drawled, lazily
twining one of her curls around his index finger. “You took off down the hall,
feisty, furious, your hips swaying.” He studied the silken threads of her hair
as if they were the most interesting things in the world to him. “Such fire,”
he said. “Your hair is like a flame, hot and untouchable, yet here I
am…touching.” Slowly, he released the curl and it bounced back in place. “And
your legs. God, they looked fabulous in those sexy heels you were wearing. I
loved those heels. What happened to them?”

“You happened to them,” she said warily. It wasn’t exactly
true, but somewhere in the hours of this crazy night, he’d been involved in the
destruction of her favorite suit and heels.

A frown settled between his eyes, as if he didn’t quite
understand what she’d said. Then he continued, “All I wanted was to follow your
lead, grab you and lock us together in a closet somewhere and do…wicked things
to you.” His eyes glittered with sultry promise.

“Wicked?” Flayme licked her lips. “What kind of
wicked…things?”

“Oh, you know…a lick…here.” He drew out the words. “A
lick…there…licks… everywhere.”

Moist h
eat spiraled between her thighs at the
slow pronunciation of the word
lick
—
damp, hot, sinful heat that left
her feeling as if she was in a sauna. The muscles in her womb softened and
turned to mush. Her body buzzed as if an electric current shot through it. “Oh,
God, I…uh…
I
didn’t see you
—
”

“No. I was standing near the elevators. I wanted to kiss
you then, and I’m not foolish enough to waste this moment.” He cupped the sides
of her face, lowered his head, and nibbled along her jaw line. Before she
realized his intent, he blazed a path of tiny kisses to her mouth, then lifting
his head, he searched her eyes. “Now’s the time to say no, if you’re gonna.”

She blinked. “Do you think I’m insane?

“You had your chance,” he whispered. His mouth settled on
hers, soft, ravaging, so damn blistering and sexy, her insides ignited and
flashed white-hot. He might be injured, maybe even feverish, but when it came
to kissing, the cowboy knew his stuff.

Ooh, this kiss!

Flayme thought if her mouth hadn’t been so thoroughly
involved with his, she might start panting, or simply implode. Lord, the man
had kissing down to a fine art.

And his tongue
—
those
little licks he
gave her lips, her tongue, oh yes, his tongue—he
definitely knew what it was for and how to use it. He stroked the inside of her
mouth, sipping from her as if her mouth was a delicate flower. His touch felt
like silk, softly probing, coaxing her into responding while he took his time
and fully explored every secret crevice. Wondering about other uses he might be
expert at with it sent the blood super-charging through her body.

What he was doing to her just now, the way he skimmed the
tip of her tongue with his, tasted and sipped, licked and searched out every
tiny forbidden secret inside her mouth, sent waves of scalding steam spiraling
through her womb and between her thighs.

Were her toes really curling? Maybe. She couldn’t think
clearly with his hands scooping over her breasts, or the fact his fingers
skimmed down her ribs as if they were the most precious things he’d ever
touched.

All the while, his lips worked magic. He glided his
fingertips over her body in a slow and sensual caress, touching forbidden
places, searching for and discovering erogenous zones she didn’t even know
existed.