Sarah's Seduction (25 page)

Hell yes, she remembered. Her nipples beaded instantly. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath that damned shirt again. Did the woman ever wear a bra?

When he glanced back at her face it was to see the shy flush that stained it. She didn’t back down though. Her eyes met his, the forest green color darkening with her arousal. He remembered exactly what she looked like aroused, needing. His teeth clenched at the memory. He should have stayed away. He should have never come out here to her.

“Are you still a virgin?” He wanted to bite the words back the minute they were out of his mouth.

“Are you still fucking your brother’s lover?” she snarled back, anger brightening her eyes now.

She was a prickly little thing. Quick with her mouth, hot with her passion, and driving him crazy with her female stubbornness. Sam took a deep, hard breath then went to his knees in front of her. He had to touch her. She was temptation and one he didn’t understand, yet couldn’t resist. Her eyes widened, then she blinked when he did nothing more than watch her. He loved watching her. The shift of her expression, the anticipation in her eyes.

“I don’t know how to fuck a virgin,” he whispered, shaking his head, confused by the overwhelming need he had to touch her in gentleness; confused by the tremble in his hands. “And I want to fuck you, Heather. I want to fuck you bad.”

He watched her breasts heave on a hard breath. He clenched his fists in an effort not to touch them. He tamped his grin as she frowned fiercely, the evidence of her fight against her arousal telling in her deepening flush, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

“You should really wait on an invitation, big boy. And I don’t remember protesting how rough you became before,” she bit out, but he heard the breathy indication in her voice that the idea intrigued her. Just as she had been intrigued before by the small taste of pleasure/pain he had introduced her to.

And it intrigued him. The memory of her pleasure, her unmasked lust as he pulled that long hair, or erotically nipped at the plump lips of her perfect cunt made him insane with his growing lust for her.

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“Invite me, Heather.” He moved closer, unable to deny himself. He was weak, he admitted. Damned weak where this fiery little redhead was concerned. She bit her lip, her eyelids lowering, her breathing fast and uneven now.

“Do I look like a fool, Sam?” she asked him, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Naw,” he whispered with a grin. Damn, she could lighten his heart when nothing else could. “You look like cinnamon candy, baby. Sweet and hot on my tongue, blowing my mind with your taste. “

She watched him carefully, her lips parted now as she fought for air. He knew just how she felt. He was smothering with his desire for her.

“And you look like trouble.” She trembled though, despite her objection as he pulled her leg from its propped position, then moved closer to her.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he whispered as her hands gripped his wrists.

“What?” Surprise flared in her eyes.

“Do it,” he growled almost wincing at the roughness of his voice. “I want to watch you, Heather. Unbutton your shirt, then spread it apart. Let me see your hard little nipples. Touch them.”

“I’m still a virgin,” she reminded him, her bitterness heard and understood. Sam winced. His last words to her before she left the year before were to lose her virginity before returning. He wasn’t an easy lover and he was terrified of hurting her. Evidently, she hadn’t heard that part.

“Not for much longer,” he promised her. “Now unbutton that fucking shirt, Heather. Don’t play coy, baby, you knew what would happen when you came back.”

Her nails bit into his wrists, biting into his skin as her tongue ran over her lips nervously.

“I didn’t expect anything, Sam,” she told him, and he was surprised at the honesty he heard in her voice. “There were no promises between us. How could I have expected anything?”

Sam took a deep, rough breath as he watched her. She didn’t try to hide her arousal, didn’t care to let him know he would be first. Even knowing what he was, the life he lived, she wanted him. How much more would she want?

“I won’t be easy. I warned you, Heather.” He fought to keep his voice hard, but he heard the vein of need in it. “Now unbutton that damned blouse before I rip it off your body.”

He was almost shaking with the need to taste those hard little nipples beneath the cloth. To suck them into his mouth, nibble at them; hear her cries of passion as he drove her crazy with his mouth. Then his mouth went dry as her hands went to the buttons. One slid free, parting the material minutely. A moment later, the second came undone. His cock jerked in anticipation.

Her fingers went to the third, was slipping it slowly from its mooring when the van door was suddenly jerked open. Without thought, Sam pushed Heather to the floor in a Lora Leigh

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quick movement, his body bracing for danger as he turned to meet the person stupid enough to interrupt him.

He stopped within a second of a blow to the intruder. Tara Glaston stood watching him, her eyes narrowed, her hands propped on her slender hips, her green eyes glittering with anger.

“Heather, do you have any idea what the hell you’re getting into here?” She bit out. The soft chuckle behind him surprised him. He turned back to Heather, wondering at the knowing glint in her amusement filled gaze.

“Maybe that’s a question you should be asking him, Tara.” She was sitting back up, re-buttoning her shirt and watching Sam with a knowing glint.

“Get out of here, Sam.” Tara bit out, her anger slowly simmering as she watched him. “I think they need you at the house for something.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew Tara, and knew well she was as mean as a blind rattler.

“This isn’t over, Heather,” he warned her. “Don’t think it is.”

She bit her lip again. Damn her, he wished he could do it for her.

“For now it is, Sam,” she sighed, watching him warily. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“Talk isn’t exactly what I have in mind,” he bit out as he jumped from the van.

“And next time, I’ll make sure Big Sis here is locked out.”

He flashed Tara a hard look before stomping away from the van and the woman slowly driving him to complete madness with his lust for her. His cock throbbed painfully, his veins pounded with the surge of blood. His mind was a mess though, and he knew it. Memories, dark and fragmented, stirred within him as he navigated the dark landscape around the house. Damn her, he cursed. Damn her to hell for making him feel and in turn, for making him remember.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sarah stared out in the darkness, sitting quietly on the patio, watching the pool ripple beneath the faint light of the moon. The evening’s events played through her mind, the reality of it finally sinking in. A mad man stalked her because she slept with one of the August men. She sighed. The last damned time she decided on a one-night stand. This one seemed never ending.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Sam stood in the shadows of the patio, watching her, the moonlight casting a pale, eerie glow over his face. He looked tortured, tormented, not the easygoing cowboy she had glimpsed before.

“Doesn’t look like I am any longer.” She sat back in the padded chair, her feet propped on an ironwork planter filled with blooming moonflowers. The sweet scent washed over her, adding a breath of sensuality to the air. Sam moved forward, roughly masculine in jeans and boots, a T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and flat stomach.

“You should go back in.” He hunched down by her chair, in front of her, too close for comfort. He looked too much like Brock and the sexual interest in his eyes was much too heavy. “It’s safer inside, Sarah.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” she sighed, watching him carefully. Would it matter where she was, she wondered. The brothers seemed to surround her. Their eyes shadowed, their expressions more relaxed than she had ever seen, yet the marks of the past were still there. The faint lines of bitterness alongside sensual lips, on their broad, sun-darkened foreheads. Worry and pain had scarred them in more ways than one.

“You act like I’m going to attack you.” Sam smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t do that, Sarah. Brock would kill me if I tried.”

“But you want to.” Her heart sped up. There was something about Sam that didn’t mesh with the laughter and amusement he usually portrayed to the world.

“No, Sarah.” He shook his head, his voice gentle. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was weariness in his voice, the same sadness the others carried. He lowered his head, then glanced back up at her. The smile was back in place.

“Too late,” she told him softly.

He shook his head. His hand reached out, running over her smooth ankle before she could jerk away from him. The touch left a fiery impression that unsettled her.

“You remind me of a friend,” he said regretfully. “A very good friend, Sarah. She’s easy to talk to. Easy to be open with.”

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“Then why aren’t you with her, Sam?” she asked him, wrapping her arms across her breasts. “Why are you here?”

“Because I owe them,” he whispered. “I owe them everything, Sarah, including my life.”

“What about your happiness?” She tilted her head, watching as a finger ran softly over the side of her sandal.

“If they want it.” He shrugged.

“What about what you want?”

“I want to know my brothers love me again,” he whispered darkly, secretively. “I want to know some demon from hell didn’t take it all, Sarah. I want to lie with you, touch you, see Brock watching me take you and know he loves me. The same as I do with Marly. I want to find my way out of hell, if only for a little while.”

Sarah’s heart clenched. Her hand covered her mouth, she didn’t jerk away this time when his fingers circled her ankle. She did nothing to wipe away the tear that drifted down her cheek.

Sam seemed more than surprised by that bit of moisture. A finger moved, lifted the drop from her cheek. He looked at it, seeing the glistening dew settled on the tip of his finger.

“I haven’t cried in over twelve years, Sarah, and no one else has cried for me.” He looked in her eyes, and Sarah knew if this man didn’t cry soon, then there would be no hope for him. Cade and Brock would lose a part of their souls as well.

“Sam.” She shook her head, hating the pain she saw in his eyes. “This doesn’t work for you.”

“For a little while it does, Sarah,” he told her, his voice rough. “It works for a while. For as long as I can forget that I’m the cause of it. That my brothers knew hell because of me. Will you help me forget?”

His hand was at her knee, his voice turning sensual, heated with arousal. Sarah came to her feet with a deep breath.

“I need to find Brock.” She went to move around him, but he was too fast. He stopped her, not forcing her to stay, his hand on her arm warm, not hurtful. He stared down at her, his hand soothing, smoothing over her skin.

“Just a kiss,” he whispered, his lips tilting in a smile so similar to Brock’s it broke her heart.

She trembled, desperate to get away from him, wondering why she wasn’t running from him. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, shivering despite the heat of the night as his hand cupped her cheek. Nerves tightened the muscles of her stomach, made her suck her breath in roughly.

His head lowered. He watched her, his eyes dark, lonely, need whispering through the night. His lips were a breath from hers, his eyes narrowed, arousal pulsing in the air around them when she found the strength to jerk away. Lora Leigh

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“Brock,” she gasped out, moving jerkily around him, rushing for the door.

“Brock wouldn’t care, Sarah,” his voice was soft, so somber it tore at her soul.

“You’re a part of him now. He loves you. Return it to me.”

“No.” she gripped the door handle, shaking her head desperately. “I can’t. God help me. I can’t.”

She pushed the door open, rushing into the family room, past Brock and Cade, Marly and Tara. She hid her tears, fought her overwhelming fears, and ignored the damp need collecting between her thighs.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Sarah?” Brock followed her to their room, concern edging his voice and his expression.

She stood at the large window, knowing it was bullet proof, knowing the precautions that had been taken two years before in case the family was ever threatened again. Good precaution she thought, because it appeared they knew nothing but the fear and disquiet of evil.

She looked out at the night, fighting tears, sadness, needs. Needs she shouldn’t have. They were getting to her, each of them. Slowly, insidiously, their needs, their pain was wearing away her resistance, tearing down the fabric of her objections. She didn’t care much for the fact that she was so weak in the face of it.

“How did it happen?” she asked as he closed the bedroom door. “How did your father get away with sending you to that madman?”

She watched the pain twist his expression at her reminder. She hated bringing that expression to his face, hated hurting him. But she needed to know. She needed to understand before she made the biggest mistake of her life. She loved Brock. She knew she did. She always had. Now she just had to figure out how to live with it.

“He was our father. We thought we were going to work for another rancher for the summer. We found out better when we got there. When he locked us in cages after drugging us during our first meal. We understood though, the first time one of us was dragged out and raped.”

His voice was cool, his expression tortured. Sarah closed her eyes tight, fighting the overwhelming fury that something so terrible could have happened to him.

“Sam was first.” He glanced away from her, swallowing hard. “He tortured him for hours. He still carries the scars from it on his body. And in his mind. He was just eighteen. We both were. ”