Run Wild (27 page)

“To Redding?” He took a step closer. “What did you do in Redding?” he demanded. “Wait a minute. Burrows’ ex and children are in Redding. Did you…?”

He broke off when she nodded. Then paraphrasing but giving him the pertinent details, Natasha shared her conversation with Sandra and her daughter Rebecca.

“She hates her father that much?” Trent rubbed his chin, pacing the length of the kitchen and ending up at his refrigerator, where he pulled out a fresh beer.

“It’s rather justified. Did you know Carl Williams was Burrows’ son?”

Trent spun around. “What?” he practically yelled. “Are you sure?”

“Do you know his mother?” Natasha asked. It was the only way she could think to confirm what she’d been told.

Trent nodded. “Jim Burrows is Carl Williams’ father, or was his father,” he amended, staring at the floor. “This certainly opens up a new line of motive.”

“I agree. But it was just hearsay,” she reminded him. “And I knew I needed facts. So when I drove here from Redding I knew where I had to go first. Dad’s message to me from my uncle had bugged me from the moment I heard it.”

“You believed he was staying at the cabin.”

“And I was right. I found him there.”

“What did he tell you?”

Her father had edged around what happened like the pro that he was. Natasha had heard his talk all her life but had realized, sitting with him in that old truck, how it hadn’t occurred to her until that moment how little of himself he’d ever shared with her.

Trent mistook her silence as an unwillingness to tell him what her father had said. He pushed away from the counter and moved into her space.

“Natasha.” He said her name with a soft, low growl. His dark features were intense when he stood in front of her, looking down and searching her face. “If there is any way to prove your father’s innocence, I will do it.”

“He didn’t do it.” Her voice cracked as she shook her head.

“Do you believe me?”

“I think you’ll work within the law and be fair and just as you view what evidence you can find.”

“You don’t trust me.”

She was shaking her head before words would come out. If anything, Trent was more open and straightforward than any other man she’d ever met. Maybe that was what scared her.

Damn. Was she scared?

“You don’t trust yourself,” he growled, his voice lowering to a husky whisper.

The words scraped over her flesh as if somehow he’d just run his fingers down her body instead of caressing her with words. Words that were not true.

Natasha stepped away, needing space and suddenly feeling trapped between him and the counter. She was heading into the living room when Trent was right there, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. She slapped his chest, bracing herself for impact. She wanted him more than her next breath yet was running. Something inside was screaming, caution, watch out, full collision ahead!

“Sometimes risks are worth it,” he growled, and captured her mouth, pulling her against him with strong, powerful arms that crushed their bodies together.

She was on fire. Every inch of her body singed with need that exploded the moment he impaled her mouth. Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck, stretched her body against his, and took everything he offered.

Trent ran his hands down her back, clutched her ass, and lifted her up against him. They were dressed, kissing, and already Natasha knew there was no turning back. His hands were confident, knowledgeable, and she wanted them everywhere.

Flames ignited, dancing around one another, feeding the craving she’d had since first laying eyes on him. Maybe she had run home because of Trent. It had given her time to clear her head so she could focus on her father. But there were two men tearing up her insides right now. One of them was right here, finding each spot inside her conflicted and giving it very exquisite detailed attention.

She would worry about her father later.

Natasha couldn’t believe how hard she was breathing. Her head had fallen back, limp on her shoulders, as Trent took his time tasting her neck, kissing and nibbling as he moved with slow scrutiny down her jugular, then to her collarbone.

She pulled her head up when his fingers brushed over her stomach. He grabbed her sweater, stepping back and staring down at her as he pulled it up to her shoulders.

She’d never seen eyes so laden with lust. His hair was tousled around his face. Had she done that? Black strands turned into sensual waves and bordered his face. She decided she loved his strong facial features, especially when his jaw was set in that determined way of his, creating hard lines that created a look of a man hell-bent on having what he wanted.

And Trent wanted her.

“Raise your arms,” he instructed, and continued raising her sweater.

It blinded her momentarily and she felt incredibly exposed, vulnerable, yet, oddly enough, safe. Natasha never put herself in unprotected positions. Life moved a lot smoother, and she was a lot happier, when she was in the lead, in control, and protecting those around her who meant something to her. That’s why she loved working in the office. Natasha always knew where her men were, what they were doing, and was there if they needed anything from her. And she kept everything in control. She never had to give up control.

The sweater came off and she stood before Trent in her jeans and bra. He seemed to have forgotten he still held her sweater. It was in his hand one minute, but then as he stared at her, appearing completely in awe, his fingers relaxed and he dropped it but didn’t move his hand.

“You are beyond beautiful,” he whispered, his expression turning ravished.

She managed to catch her breath. “Let’s see what I get to work with.” Natasha grabbed his shirt, pushing him back a step when he tried taking over. “Hands down,” she ordered, holding on to his shirt as she began lifting it up his chest.

“Don’t ever think you can tell the sheriff what to do.” He stood in front of her, not moving.

She’d shoved his shirt up to his armpits and it remained there, crumpled, exposing his muscular chest. Natasha stared at his perfectly chiseled biceps, at the trace of fine, tightly wound black curls that stretched across them.

“I think I’m not going to be any less dressed than you are,” she drawled right back at him.

Natasha yelped when he once again put speed in his corner, lifted her, and moved her backward through the dark living room. She found herself bouncing on the couch when he dropped her there, having damn near ripped her button off and yanked the zipper down on her jeans before letting go and taking a step backward. He was strong as hell! Breathtaking. And as he stood over her he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the ground with as much care as he’d given her sweater.

“Take your shoes off, darling.”

She stared up at him, enjoying the hell out of the view, before deciding to oblige and pull one foot to her chest to slide off her boot.

“Better watch how bossy you get, mister,” she warned as first one boot, then the other, hit the floor with a
clump.
“I can dish it out too.”

“You can only dish it out if you have someone who will allow it,” he said, unzipped his jeans, then stepped out of them, taking his boxers down with them.

Natasha scooted to a sitting position, knowing she had a good comeback to slam out at him but forgetting for a moment what it was. She stared at his cock, how thick and long it was, noticed he was a righty, and licked her lips when she narrowed in on the drop of precum swelling at the tip.

She lifted her gaze, let it travel up his tight, flat stomach, and took in his broad chest. His arms were just as muscular, which didn’t surprise her, and there was a fine line where a tan ended and his skin was lighter leading up to his shoulders. She had the sudden urge to run her finger along that line, feel the muscles in his upper arms flex under her touch.

She’d moved to the edge of the couch and pulled her legs up. She grinned when she reached his face with her eye candy journeys. “Come here,” she ordered.

Trent knelt on the couch, reaching for her.

“See, I have someone to follow my orders,” she informed him, then yelped when he grabbed her ankles and tugged her hard enough she flopped down on her back with her feet in the air.

Trent moved in between her legs, making it so she couldn’t move. His hands were on her breast, flicking the thin lace material up and out of his way with a smooth, swift motion. Then coming down over her, he stopped when their faces were inches from each other.

“Let go and trust me, Natasha.”

They’d been playing, bantering back and forth between the two of them as they prepared to embark on a sexual relationship. She blinked and slowly his eyes came into focus. Natasha saw this was more than playing. Trent was serious.

In the blink of an eye everything had changed. With Trent’s body on top of hers, and all that masculinity rubbing against her, it was impossible to think. Nor did she want to think. She wanted to experience, enjoy, and bring that growing pressure inside her to a climax so she could finally explode. Trent began kneading her breasts. He tugged on them just enough. It was all good. He didn’t really expect her to respond to his demands. Somehow Trent knew what it took to stimulate her body. She stretched her legs on either side of him and closed her eyes once again, letting him adore her breasts. Nothing had ever felt better.

Natasha arched into him, letting him reach underneath her and unsnap her bra. He tugged it free from her body, and she had no idea where it went after that. Not that she cared. In fact, nothing mattered at the moment other than the pleasure he was giving her.

“More,” she begged, feeling no shame. “Don’t ever stop.”

Trent chuckled, his breath hot against her nipple as he moved to her other breast. Natasha tangled her fingers in his hair, ready to force him to stay right where he was if he dared try moving. He hummed against her tortured flesh and continued teasing her with his tongue, then scraping her hard and eager nipple with his teeth.

His cock danced between them, tapping against her bare flesh above her jeans. It traced moisture against her belly as it continued its quest for attention. He was driving her crazy.

Natasha forgot about her mission to keep Trent pinned where he was. Her hands slipped over his shoulders and down his back. She already knew he was strong. She’d seen his muscles bulge against his shirt. But feeling all that raw power tingle against her fingertips sent shivers through her. Natasha smiled as his muscles twitched under her touch. Trent might get demanding and think he possessed the power to control her. Her smile grew. With a mere brush of her hand down his back, she had the man trembling against her touch.

Trent immediately shifted his weight to give her room when she pressed her hands between them. She found his cock and wrapped her fingers around it. He groaned, his entire body stiffening. A rush of power stronger than she’d ever known washed over her.

There had been other men. Natasha had even had sex in some rather unusual places, the nightlife in L.A. offering a montage of escapades to indulge in. A couple of men from her past had basically been one-night stands from when she’d been younger and flirted with a wilder crowd. It hadn’t taken much to learn it wasn’t the type of lifestyle for her. Then, in her early twenties, she’d dated a couple guys, one of them even lasting six months or so. Odd how that had only been several years ago and his name escaped her at the moment.

None of them had ever empowered her, though. Trent wanted her to let go and trust him. It meant giving him something she wasn’t sure she had. But then how could she offer any type of commitment when she didn’t have a clue how to go about doing it?

Chapter Twelve

Trent stared at Natasha’s perky, round breasts. They were perfectly shaped, and each light brown nipple was puckered, hard and pointed at him. The moisture clinging to them simply added to the perfect picture.

He shifted his attention to her face just as her lashes fluttered. Natasha opened her eyes and stared up at him. She was returning from some faraway place and he’d die to know where her thoughts had been. He was doing his best to push her into accepting him as more than a distraction from the circumstances around her father.

Natasha was unique, a woman who came across as brazen, big city, and fully capable of taking care of herself. He wondered if anyone else had ever taken the time to stare into her wonderfully unique eyes and see the woman behind all of the physical beauty. Something told him they hadn’t. Maybe a few had tried, the poor bastards. Trent doubted they got far.

Her fingers were wrapped around his cock, and the way she touched him, explored and teased, damn near made his eyes roll back in his head. If she knew she played with fire, she didn’t care. For some reason, this feisty little lady liked it dangerous. As long as that danger didn’t get into her head. Possibly it was her upbringing, being raised around law enforcement. Or maybe she loved danger because it was too high-impact for emotions to get in the way. He’d noticed her eyes go flat when he told her to let go and trust him. Trent grew up with his father in law enforcement. Danger didn’t bother him but he certainly didn’t seek it out. He had no problem expressing his emotions.