Rebecca Zanetti - Under the Covers

She caught her breath at his speed, her face against his back. He began moving through the house. A calloused hand caressed her butt, and she wiggled. He caressed harder, taking claim, holding her in place.

A tingle wandered through her.

He climbed stairs, and his fingers dipped between her legs.

She gasped out, seeing stars.

Slowly, one finger entered her while another tapped her clit. She gave a strangled cry. “No, stop.”

He stopped moving just inside a doorway. “Okay.” Another finger slid inside, stretching her.

Oh God. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” His silky hair brushed her skin, and his teeth nipped her thigh. His thumbnail scraped across her clit. “Control isn’t something you get to keep here, Juliet.”

Her abdomen quivered. If he didn’t cease his playing, she was going to orgasm over his shoulder, completely at his mercy. While the idea was intriguing, she had to keep some dignity. “Being upside down gives me a headache,” she said.

His fingers deserted her, and she had just enough time to relax before a hard slap echoed across her buttocks. Fire lanced straight to her sex. “Quinn.” She meant it as a protest, but his name came out on a moan.

“No lying—not here and not now. When we’re like this, only honesty. Agree or you go home.” His muscled shoulders shifted as he took a deep breath. “After I turn your ass red.”

She gasped and then slowly relaxed. Lies didn’t belong between them when they were together like this. “No lying,” she murmured. Then, her hands slid down his back to grab a very impressive ass. “Though I’m getting bored with this discussion.”

He laughed and took several steps. Air brushed her skin as he laid her on a bed. His fingers trailed down her abdomen. She gyrated against him, her breath catching.

He released her, and she tensed in protest.

“We have time, sweetheart.” Desire spiraled high across his face. Grabbing her hips, he pushed her up the mattress, his body covering hers. He brushed the hair away from her forehead. “You’re beautiful.”

She blinked. This was about sex. Great sex. She couldn’t offer more. “Quinn, I—”

“Shh.” He nipped her lips. “I know. No worries.”

Well, that might hurt a little. “Oh, okay.”

He settled between her legs. “But for the next couple of hours, you’re mine, sweetheart.”

The possessive tone battered down any defenses she’d been trying to shore. “Maybe I’ll claim you, Sheriff.” Tangling her fingers through his thick hair, she tugged his mouth down to hers for a slow, long, drugging kiss.

A jangle echoed by the doorway. “Freeze!” a woman yelled.

Then things happened too fast and too slow all at once.

Juliet screamed.

Quinn leaped from the bed and toward danger.

Juliet scrambled under the covers.

“Jesus Christ,” Quinn bellowed, jumping back for the bed and shoving under the covers with her.

Juliet clutched the bedspread to her chest, her gaze on the doorway. Quinn’s college-aged sister stood with a bat clutched in her hands, her blue eyes wide and her face extremely pale.

The woman’s mouth opened and closed several times. She threw the bat to the floor and ground her fists into her eyes. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I could’ve lived my whole life without seeing…that!”

Quinn growled and threw a pillow at her while remaining safely under the covers. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Dawn ducked the pillow and peered between two fingers. “I came to talk to you and found Mertyl wandering down the road. Titan followed right behind her.”

“Oh.” Quinn sat up but kept the bedspread over the important parts.

“And”—Dawn’s voice rose in pitch and volume as she dropped her hand—“I came inside, and it looks like there was a big fight. The table is broken, a painting is down, and I heard a noise up here. So, I grabbed the bat and came upstairs.”

Quinn stilled. Tension vibrated through the room. “Let me get this straight. You noticed signs of a fight, of danger, and your logical choice was to grab a bat and come upstairs.”

“Um—” Dawn took a step back.

Juliet fought the urge to hide her face under the bedspread. “I’m so sorry, Dawn.”

The woman shuffled her feet. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—I mean, that you and Quinn—well, I mean—”

“Go away,” Quinn muttered. Then he frowned. “Why didn’t you call for help before coming upstairs?”

Dawn’s eyes widened just as heavy boots pounded up the stairs. Jake rushed into the room followed by Colton, their younger brother. Both men wore faded jeans, work gloves, and thick shirts. They’d obviously been working the ranch.

Dawn giggled. “I did call for help.”

Oh, God. Heat shot into Juliet’s face so quickly her skin burned. She pulled the sheet over her head.

Jake’s laugh rang through the room.

“I’m going to arrest all three of you for trespass if you don’t get the hell out of here,” Quinn barked.

The sound of a door closing was a prelude for a moment of silence before laughter echoed down the hallway stairs. Quinn tugged on the sheet.

Juliet held onto the heavy cotton with all of her might.

“Juliet? They’re gone.”

It didn’t matter. She’d never live the last few moments down. Good thing she was leaving town. Soon.

Juliet settled more comfortably in the kitchen chair, her gaze on the half-naked warrior cooking dinner. “I think we may have blinded your sister for life.”

Quinn chuckled and stirred the scrambled eggs. “I’d prefer not to think about it again.” The muscles in his impressive arms shifted as he reached for salt and pepper to dump on the eggs. He wore scars on his back, and it hurt she wouldn’t have time to get close enough to ask about them. But she had the night, and she was going to enjoy what she could. He’d thrown on jeans but had left his torso and feet bare. Very masculine. “If I hadn’t been nude, I probably would’ve smashed both Jake’s and Colton’s heads together for not leaving right away.” While the words emerged tough, obvious affection lived in them.

“You and your siblings seem close.” Juliet picked at a loose thread on the shirt she’d borrowed.

“We are.” Quinn removed the pan and slid eggs onto two plates. Delivering one to her, he grabbed a plate of buttered toast. “You don’t have siblings?”

“No.” Not really, anyway. She eyed the eggs. “These look fantastic.”

“Thanks.” He sat and tossed her a napkin. “Eggs are the only thing I know how to cook. Well, besides Christmas cookies.”

Juliet unfolded the napkin on her lap. “Christmas cookies?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Leila and I have a tradition of making Christmas cookies shaped like sheriff stars every year. It’s our, ah, thing.”

Talk about the sweetest thing Juliet had ever heard. “You’re a softy, Sheriff.”

“Humph.” He dug into his eggs. “Why the gallery, Juliet?”

She paused. “What do you mean?”

“The gallery? There are tons of businesses you could open, and you choose a Western art gallery in a small Montana town. Why?” Lazy intelligence glimmered in his eyes.

The need to confide in him surprised a grin out of her. “I love art. Love paintings, drawings, sculptures—even comic books. But, no matter how hard I tried, I never had talent.” She took a sip of water. “Skill, maybe. But not the talent so few have that amazes anyone who looks.”

He nodded. “So you decided to surround yourself with art.”

“Exactly.” For the first time in a month, her shoulders relaxed. “I do have a good head for business, and I have an eye for other people’s talent. That works.”

“Do you still paint?”

“No. But I do sculpt once in a while. Just for me, and just for fun.” Her pieces were more functional than inspirational, but that was okay.

The phone rang, and he stretched over his head to grab the handset off the wall. “Lodge.” He listened for a moment and then stood to flip open his cell phone sitting on the table. “Yes, Mrs. Romano. I understand. Give me a minute.” He set down the handset and punched in a number on the cell phone.

Juliet tilted her head to the side. What in the world was going on?

Quinn waited and smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Maceberry. This is Sheriff Lodge, and I could use Graham’s help. Is your son home?” Quinn glanced at Juliet and winked.

Sexy and strong, that wink shot right down to throb between her legs. The man should be captured on film.

“Graham?” Quinn straightened up. “Mrs. Romano’s cat is stuck in the tree down the street. I owe you lunch next week if you go and get the darn thing down.” Quinn nodded. “You’re the best, kid. Be careful and don’t fall.” The cell phone clicked shut. He lifted the handset to his head. “Mrs. Romano? Graham Maceberry has become my official cat catcher. He’ll be there in a few minutes to get Snookie down. Just offer the kid one of your amazing strawberry scones when he succeeds. Yes, ma’am. Have a good night.”

With a sigh, Quinn dropped back into his seat. “My job’s a dangerous one, darlin’.” The smug grin sliding across his face promised both danger and sin.

“I can see that.” She licked cheese off her fork.

His eyes flared.

She stopped licking. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive.” She paused as heat filled her face. “You know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He’d leaned forward to say something that had to be sexy when the doorbell rang. He frowned. “What is up with people today?” Tossing his napkin on the table, he strode into the other room. Voices echoed, and he returned with a plate full of brownies and a casserole dish covered with tinfoil.