Melissa Cutler - Cowboy Justice

There was sound again, a primal, guttural whimper that meant she would come as soon as he allowed her to. He backed off, slipping two fingers into her wet, swollen opening. She squeezed his fingers and his mouth went dry. When he got around to fucking her, it was going to feel out of this world. It was going to blow his fucking mind.

First things first.

She wanted him to spank her again. Harder, And, well, that was one demand he was happy to oblige. He unlatched his belt one-handed.

It sagged in his hand, much heavier than he’d expected.

Shaking his head to clear it of the fever dream he was operating within, he looked down. This wasn’t his off-duty belt. It was his equipment belt, complete with radio, firearm, utility knife, and all the other trappings of his job as sheriff.

He blinked at it, reality hitting him hard.

What, in God’s name, was he doing? Had he gone crazy? He’d come to Rachel’s ranch with two of his employees to process crime scenes for evidence. And not an hour later, he was knuckle-deep inside her in the middle of the day. In uniform. With his squad car sitting out front. And with her sisters home.

My God. He had no integrity at all. He’d become a sheriff to fight against Meyer and the other good old boys who abused the power of their positions. But look where he was—getting his rocks off with a victim in an open case while he was on the clock. Could he ever feel superior to Meyer again? Because he sure didn’t now.

The instinct to pull his hand away from her was a strong one. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that she was close to release. So utterly close. And the damage was done. There was no taking back the choice he’d made any more than he could take back all the other terrible choices he’d made involving Rachel.

Remember this, you rotten prick. Because this is the last time you’ll have her like this. Never again. You’d better brand into your memory her sounds and the way she feels on your hand when she comes. Because this is it.

He rocked forward, set the belt on the box next to Rachel’s hip, and braced his hand on the lid as he leaned over her, as close to her ear as he could get.

“Rachel?”

Her eyes, blissed out and half lidded, regarded him dreamily.

He dragged his fingers from her depths and swirled them over her clit. Smashing her eyes closed again, she whimpered and panted, her hips straining toward his touch.

He stared at her beautiful face, her freckled nose and long lashes, the tightening of her jaw as he swirled and stroked her. “Say my name when you come.”

She lifted her head and opened her eyelids all the way, questioning. He thought she was going to ask him why, but then one corner of her lip turned up, and she whispered, “I always do.”

Then her body tensed. Her eyes rolled back and she dropped her cheek to the box lid. That mewling whimper spilled out of her throat, and then, as her back practically levitated from the box, she chanted his name.

He watched, unblinking, trying not to miss any detail of her orgasm. Her pulsing muscles, her wet heat, the sound of his name. Her wild, bucking body coming apart all around him.

When her release subsided and she stilled, he almost said, “I love you.” Except it didn’t matter that he’d finally figured out that’s what he felt for her. Because she’d told him in so many words, too many times to count over the last year and a half, that she couldn’t love him, not after what happened with her mom. Even if she could grow to return his feelings, what could they do about it? Some things weren’t meant to be, and, clearly, he and Rachel were doomed to keep looping back to each other in the same vicious cycle of impulse and denial.

The bowline knot released easy enough from her wrists, though she’d tightened it considerably since he’d bound her. That was the kinky thing about a bowline—the harder the bound person pulled against it, the tighter it got. Rachel’s wrists were red and raw.

She straightened her bra and shirt, then stretched up, tugging her panties and pants in place as she stood. “Why did you stop?”

“I wanted to take care of you. That’s all I need.” He rubbed her wrists. “These marks look bad. Do they hurt?”

She pulled away from his touch. “I’m fine. Give me a real answer. Why did you stop?”

He snagged his belt and held it up as proof of his sins. “I’m on the job and I should’ve never . . . we should’ve never . . . You put that rein in my hand and I forgot who I was.”

Nodding, she hugged herself. “You should have thought about that before you chose to go by horse with me.”

“You’re right.” His chest grew tight, seeing the defeat in her expression. So much for an afterglow. Shunting the pain aside, he reattached his belt, then went in search of his hat. When he found it, he pulled it low over his forehead so she wouldn’t see the storm in his eyes. He almost didn’t elaborate, the truth hit so close to home. But he owed it to her because she was right. He tipped the first domino when he decided to accompany her. “But I couldn’t pass up my one chance to ride with you.”

She swallowed, her eyes locked on a spot near his feet. Then she rubbed her wrist and he had to wonder if the binding had hurt her, after all. “I’ve always wanted to ride with you too.”

He let out a hard laugh. “We are so screwed up, you and me. My God, we are a mess.”

She swayed, like all the energy had drained from her in one mighty whoosh. He reached for her, but she caught herself on a post, sagging against it. He smoothed a hand over her back. “You all right?”

“No, I’m not.” She turned her eyes up to his, resolve as hard as steel glinted in them. “Recuse yourself from the investigation. For me. For us.”

The stuffy heat of the stable pressed down on him. The buzz of flies he’d previously been oblivious to filled his ears. He ran a finger between his collar and his neck to combat the heat and the excruciating tickle in his throat.

Why the hell had he ever thought it was a good plan to quit smoking at the same time he tried to quit Rachel? He would hand over the deed to his house if a cigarette would materialize in his hand. Stupid thought to flit across his mind, but he couldn’t have possibly heard Rachel right. Because that would mean she felt something for him besides blinding lust, besides infuriating resentment for that lust—which, he’d decided a while back, were pretty much the only two feelings she harbored for him.

“What?” he croaked.

She straightened. “Remove yourself from my case. I want to try for something real. With you.”

Oh, God, no. Why now? Why couldn’t she have been ready a month ago, before the shooting? Feeling as if he’d been struck with a cane, he sunk into the arm he’d braced against the post, closing his eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve considered that already? I haven’t thought of one other thing since Monday except how I can possibly make everything work. There’s no easy answer.”

She shoved away from the post to pace the length of the stable, her hand on her forehead. “You were expecting the answer to be easy? Because I can tell you from experience, nothing in life worth having is easy. Look around you on my farm, Vaughn. Every valley used to be covered in alfalfa. My crop. It’s all gone. I’ve been fighting for my place in the world since the day I was born. You think anything’s supposed to be easy?”

“Damn it, Rachel. Listen to me. I didn’t mean easy like you think. Look, the Meyers have been acting above the law since the day I met them. My whole goal in becoming a cop was to one day put myself in a position to hold them accountable for their crimes. That’s what I’ve been working toward for the last twenty years. Since I was sixteen, that was all I wanted.”

He flicked the brim of his hat higher, no longer wanting to hide himself from her. “Then, after twenty years of waiting for the right moment and the right case to come along, Wallace Jr. and his friends trespassed onto your property with drugs and automatic rifles. They shot you. They shot your horse. It was the perfect opportunity for me to bring justice down on the Meyer family. It was the case I’d been waiting for.”

She sucked her cheeks in and looked so lost he thought she might start crying. “Forget I asked. I can’t compete with revenge.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you—everything’s changed for me, but I’m trapped. If I recuse myself now, the first thing that’ll happen is Meyer and his men will start digging around to find out why. And they won’t have to dig far. People in town are already spreading rumors about you and me.”

“You’d lose your job.”

“Maybe, but I don’t even care about that anymore. What I have to care about is that the people of this county entrusted me with enforcing their laws. If the truth came out about our involvement, all the interviews and evidence I’ve collected against Meyer Jr. and Jimmy de Luca could be labeled as tainted in the eyes of the court. If a judge threw it all out, a convico help you find the woman who tried to kill my only child?”

“Give it a rest with your bullshit melodrama, Meyer. A woman’s life is in danger.” Please, let her still be alive.

“She should’ve thought of that before she aimed her gun at my son.”

“Junior brought that on himself. You know it as well as I do, damn it. Like we both know you’re not going to stand by while a woman’s life is at stake, if for no other reason than it’ll crush your public image if word gets out.”

Meyer propped a shoulder on the door frame and folded his arms over his chest. “It’s fun watching you squirm, Cooper. Like a worm on a hook, helpless. I could get used to this.”