Chapitre 6: Chapter 7
Dakota carried her groceries into the cabin and began to put them away, her mind still racing. Ever since she'd bumped into him at the café she'd been completely rattled with no idea why. It wasn't that she hadn't seen good-looking men before. At twenty-eight she'd had plenty of them come on to her during market days. Of course by now she was aware they were only interested in who could brag about "fucking the crazy lady". The very few times she'd let herself go had proven disastrous, so she tried to imagine every man she came across as uglier than a mud fence.
But there was something about this one...
She was no little package, standing five nine in bare feet, but this man towered over her. Thick black hair peeped out from beneath his Stetson to touch the collar of his shirt and the shirt and worn jeans hugged a lean, broad-shouldered body. Maybe it was his eyes that got her. Silver, like polished nickel, with lighter gray highlights. A ruggedly masculine face defined by thick eyebrows and equally thick black lashes.
Why the hell was she noticing him, anyway?
She sighed as she emptied the last of her canvas bags, folded them and stowed them in a cupboard. For the first time the silence of the cabin disturbed her. Usually it was soothing, peaceful, her refuge from the outside world. Today the absence of sound made her jittery. She turned on the television-her one real extravagance-and found a channel that didn't offend her too much. She no longer watched the news or talk shows, and soap operas weren't her thing so sometimes her choices were limited.
She was about to throw a load of laundry in her mini-washer when she heard a noise outside, the screech of an animal that set her teeth on edge. Picking up her shotgun, she cocked it and eased open the front door. She swiveled her head left and right, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from but absolutely nothing looked disturbed.
Standing completely still in the doorway, she waited for the noise to repeat itself but it never happened. Something rustled in the wild grasses, startling her, and two squirrels dashed across the front yard, chasing each other.
Dakota let out the breath she'd been holding and was about to step back inside when she heard the rumble of a vehicle on her almost-road.
What now?
She kept the shotgun tucked in the crook of her arm as a pickup emerged from the cloud of dust it was pushing ahead of it and pulled into the bare spot in front of the cabin. Who would be coming here? No one ever came to the cabin. They visited her booth during Market Days or placed orders for her potions and salves in town with Muriel at The Daisy Chain. But come out here where she lived? Never. She swallowed back the sudden burst of anxiety and settled her hands more firmly on the shotgun. Her knees nearly buckled when the truck pulled to a stop, the door opened and the stranger from the café climbed out. An invisible charge of electricity zapped between them, the air suddenly filled with it.
Oh, god. Just what she needed. Not only didn't she want visitors, she didn't want men. Her forays into sexual relationships had been disappointing and unsatisfying. She'd finally decided she was better off taking care of herself.
Now here he was, bring an aura of sexual electricity with him.
Shit!
He looked around, his head turning from one side to the other before he started toward her. He walked with animal grace, a fluid movement of legs and hips. As he drew closer he smiled at her, but there was little humor in it and she had the feeling he could be a dangerous man to know. Her body reacted immediately, a tiny pulse throbbing in her cunt and her nipples standing at attention. She had an insane desire to rip his clothes off and see if he looked as magnificent when he was naked.
Dakota sucked in a breath. Not good! Her rare moments of sexual activity had been nothing short of catastrophic. You'd think she'd learned her lesson by now.
"I hope you won't need that shotgun," he said. "I'm not planning to start a gunfight."
His voice was like warm molasses sliding onto a plate, deep and rich. Her body reacted automatically to the sensuous sound, the same weak-kneed, kick-in-the-stomach feeling she'd had when she ran into him in town, and she had to fight to keep her face expressionless.
"What are you planning? What are you even doing here? I don't entertain company."
He stopped at the porch steps and she tightened her grip on the shotgun. No way was she letting him in the house. Not the way his proximity set off sensations in her body previously only produced by her collection of toys. What the hell? She could smell trouble.
"My name is Jonah Grey." A ghost of a smile drifted over his mouth. "It's usually polite when someone introduces themselves to tell them your name, but it so happens I know it."
She snorted. "I'll bet the good people of Eagle Pass were only too happy to gossip about me."
"Actually, I got your name from the sheriff. I'm doing some articles and I wondered if you might give me a minute or two and answer some questions."
She tensed at his words. Was this another reporter sniffing around the crazy half-breed? Dakota angled the shotgun so her finger was on the trigger. All she had to do was raise the muzzle.
"Questions? About what?"
Jonah Grey didn't flinch. He just looked at the gun and back at her. "I don't think I'll give you any cause to shoot me."
"Tell me in one sentence what you want before I blow one of your toes off."
The damn man actually grinned. "I'm writing about the legend of the Chupacabra and the recent killings here."
That stopped her for a minute. The damn stupid legend. Did he think it was Native American? That just because she was half-Kickapoo she would know about it?
"It's not a Native American legend," she said in a flat tone.
"I'm aware of that. More Hispanic than anything. But the last killings happened not too far from here. Besides, I have a feeling the Kickapoo are more aware of what's going on than the people in Eagle Pass."
Her entire body tightened. "Are you saying the Kickapoo have something to do with it?"
He shook his head. "Not even hinting at it. Just wondering if there's a little more insight into the legend there." He put one foot on her bottom step, completely ignoring the shotgun. "I promise not to take up too much of your time."
Reluctantly Dakota backed up a step. The problem was, she wanted him to take up a lot of her time and that was so not good.
She gestured toward the two old Adirondack chairs she'd scavenged from somewhere. "We can talk out here."
He nodded. "All right."
She watched him lower his tall body easily into one of the chairs, push his hat back slightly on his head, and lean forward with his arms on his thighs. He was obviously doing his best to put her at ease, but how much ease could she feel with someone who had danger written all over him?
Rather than sit down in the other chair, she leaned against the porch rail, still cradling the shotgun. She wondered if it was to warn him to look but not touch or to remind herself to keep a safe distance.
"What is it you want to know?"
"For starters did you hear anything the day it happened? Sound carries a long way out here."
Dakota shook her head. "No. Nothing. At least not that I remember. But there are so many animal sounds all mixing together that it's hard to distinguish one from the other
His silver eyes studied her face as if trying to see beyond her answer. What was wrong? Didn't he believe her? She hadn't heard anything. She didn't think. Now, she wondered if...
"Remembering?" he asked, breaking her thought pattern.
She shrugged. "Maybe. I honestly don't know if I heard anything or not. I'm busy during the day."
Busy hoping no one will bother me.
"Surely you'd be able to tell the difference between the sound of an animal and that of a human."
He shifted his legs and Dakota's eyes were drawn automatically to the fly of his jeans. When he saw where she was looking, one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. Heat rushed to her face and she slid her gaze away from him. She'd told herself toys were better than human beings, less complicated and more dependable. But if anyone could change her mind it was Jonah Grey.
Sex on the hoof. That's all she could think. God, she was in such trouble. If he didn't leave quickly she might not be responsible for her own actions.
"Dakota?"
Swell. Staring again.
"Sorry." Mentally she kicked herself. "Lost my place for a minute. Have you been to the site and looked at it?"
He nodded. "I was hoping I could take a look around your property and see if the beast came this way. Maybe left some tracks."
She shrugged. "I don't think you'll find anything here. And I don't usually have strangers hanging around my cabin."
"I promise to be quick.
Are you quick in bed, too?
Mentally she smacked herself. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? But she knew. She'd barely met this man yet she wanted him naked in her bed. Had she truly lost her mind? She'd better get him out of here before she did something really stupid.
She opened her mouth to tell him he had to leave, but instead she heard herself say, "All right. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee first?"
If she hadn't been looking straight at him and seen the silver in his eyes darken to slate she might have thought her invitation didn't get a reaction from him. But she knew instantly that whatever ridiculous carnal urgings she felt for him, they were reciprocated. She was in big trouble and it was her own fault.
Jonah took off his hat when he unfolded himself from the chair, using it to cover the raging hard-on he'd spiked the minute he'd gotten within two feet of Dakota Furcal. The spear of lust that had thrust itself through him when they nearly collided at the diner had caught him completely by surprise. Oh, sure, he had a highly active sex drive. That came with being a shifter. But he'd never experienced instant desire like this with anyone before. Not since...
No. He wouldn't go there today. At this moment he only wanted to focus on the woman standing inches away from him, fiddling with mugs and a coffee pot. She still wore the denim skirt and scoop-necked blouse she had on in town. His hands itched to slide up beneath skirt and caress the satin skin of her thighs, the curve of her ass, the dampness of her cunt.
Oh, yeah. She'd be damp. Maybe dripping. He'd seen the hunger in her eyes. If possible, his cock hardened even more, pressing painfully against the denim of his jeans. He should probably wait a decent interval of time before making his move, but the room was so charged with sexual awareness he wasn't sure either of them could wait. His wolf's sense told him she was ripe for him now.
For one brief moment Jenna's face flashed through his mind, a smile tilting up her lips, eyes darkening with passion as he thrust into her. Satisfying his sexual needs since her death had simply been an exercise, like feeding himself or hydrating his body. He had never expected to feel the thread of passion unwinding within himself again. Never expected to sense any kind of connection with another female.
Jonah moved up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. The heat of her body surged through his hands and washed through to his groin. Just touching her ramped up the rush of lust consuming him. His cock couldn't take much more of this.
"Forget the coffee," he told her. "For now."
He waited to see if she'd push his hands away or try to back off. When she didn't he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against her. Just a soft touch, a feathery caress. She trembled beneath his hands, a faint tremor racing through her body. He licked her bottom lip, tasting the hint of the flavor of strawberries, and his cock flexed in response.
Jonah took his time licking back and forth across her lip, He could sense a skittishness mixed with the heat. Slow, he told himself, Very slow. It will be worth it.
In a moment her lips parted and he danced his tongue inside, licking and tasting, touching the wet surfaces of that hot cavern. Her own delicate tongue touched his, tentatively at first, then more boldly. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands around to her back to press her closer to him. He angled his head and pushed his tongue in even deeper.
Dakota sighed into his mouth, clutching his arms and leaning into him. Even with the layers of fabric separating them he could feel her hard nipples pushing into his chest and he growled low in his throat. Sliding his mouth away from hers he kissed his way along her jawline and down the side of her neck. At the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder joined he nipped lightly, then soothed the skin with his tongue.
She vibrated with need and tightened her hold on him. He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and take her right there on the floor but he was certain that would frighten her and that was the last thing he wanted. He ground his teeth as he reached for control, knowing this dance would be a long, slow one.
He took his time kissing her neck, nipping and licking then soothing with his mouth. In tiny increments he moved his lips lower to the swell of her breasts, teasing her with the tip of his tongue. Her skin had the fresh bouquet of persimmon and a tantalizing mixture of herbs that ramped up the heat in his body. He wanted to bury his face in her flesh and lose himself in the wonderful mixture of scents.
"Jonah," she breathed, tilting her head back to give him greater access.
Her voice had a musical lilt to it that that reminded him of the sounds of the forests he loved so much. He sucked one taut nipple into his mouth, fabric and all, and she tightened in response.
Jonah moved his mouth to her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth.
"If I move this to the bed I see over there are you going to turn that shotgun on me?" he whispered.
She shook her head.
Before she had a chance to change her mind, Jonah swept her up in his arms and carried her to the big bed against one wall, placing her gently on top of the quilt. He toed off his boots and kicked them to the side. Then with great care he proceeded to undress Dakota, kneeling to kiss each area of skin as he exposed it. He paid homage to every part of her body, tickling her ankles and her inner thighs with his tongue, swiping it across the quivering muscles of her tummy. His hands skimmed her thighs and hips, the skin like the softest satin. The beast within him was raging and again he reached for control.
He braced himself on either side of her, flicking her nipples with his tongue. She slid her hands up and down his arms, her breathing uneven, eyes glittering.
"You have too many clothes on," she whispered.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone