Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) (9 page)

“Sure, I could do
that. Anything else?”

So eager. I had to wash
my mind out with soap. “Yes, while you’re out shopping, buy
yourself some clothes to wear in New York. And Kara,” I said,
serious. “Make sure you spend lots of money.”

Nutty piece of work
that she was, her response was a small, defiant pout.

Firm and in control
now, I pointed my finger at her. “When you come home, you’re
going to model it all for me. I want to like what I see. Don’t
disappoint me, or I’ll have to discipline you.”

“What?” She looked
at me wide eyed, suddenly nervous.

“You heard me. Now
get going.” I turned back to the computer. She walked out of my
office.

I wanted her nervous,
anticipating tonight. I liked the idea of her going shopping for me,
choosing things I might like that she could model for me. Clothes
that I could take off. Because as much as I loved that defiant spark
in her, tonight I’d enjoy teaching her some discipline.

Kara

Then

“Princess?” At the
sound of my father’s voice, I paused at the front door. I was
heading down to bring Bill his mail. He didn’t get much, so it
wasn’t any trouble to sort it and bring it down to him on Sunday
mornings. I usually gave him some of the extra fliers and sales
circulars Daddy and I would have thrown out, too. I knew he enjoyed
looking through it all.

“What is it, Daddy?”

“While you’re down
there, would you check in on Declan? He’s been fighting a nasty
flu. The man won’t stop working even with a raging fever.”

I didn’t need to be
asked twice. I about flew down to Bill’s, leaving his mail on his
porch after I rang the doorbell instead of staying to chat a few
minutes like usual. Rushing over to Declan’s cabin, I wondered how
long he’d been sick. I’d been avoiding him like it was my job for
the last two weeks. Ever since that night.

The night he’d caught
me. I’d snuck down to his cabin and pleasured myself on his bed.
He’d watched me do it, seen me come on my fingers as I’d called
out his name.

I still couldn’t
believe that had happened. No wonder I’d been hiding the past two
weeks. I was around a lot more—Bruce was already off at college for
pre-season football so I was officially single—but mostly I stayed
in the house. I was hiding and I knew it was ridiculous on my own
family’s ranch, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Declan
had seen. And what I’d done on his bed.

I’d been restless
that night, as I had been so often with Declan on the ranch. I
couldn’t sleep. In the heat, the sticky sheets, the air that
wouldn’t move, I’d lain on my bed throbbing and aching. Then, in
the middle of the night, I’d been drawn down to Declan’s cabin
like a sleepwalker, in a trance, pulled irresistibly down to where he
lived.

I had a key to his
cabin. We had keys to every building on the ranch. I knew it was
wrong. I knew I shouldn’t be going in. But he was out of town, or
supposed to be. I told myself he’d never know.

I’d never felt more
mortified, never been more panicked then when I’d heard Declan’s
voice in the doorway. After I’d come on my own fingers in his bed
while calling out his name. He’d caught me. There was no going
back. Now, without any shadow of a doubt, he knew exactly how I felt
about him, how much I longed for him. And he knew what a nasty girl I
really was.

Since then, I’d
literally hid in the house. I’d managed to avoid him almost
completely. Except one time for about the longest 30 seconds on
record in human history. I’d made the mistake of heading down to
the barn and then he’d walked in, no shirt, sweaty with his jeans
low on his hips. He’d stood there like a caveman, a big piece of
lumber tossed over his broad shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when
he saw me. All of the air left the barn. I stood, trembling, unable
to look away from his heated gaze, scared and nervous and desperate
to touch him. Then Bill had come in, thank God. I’d fled as fast as
I could.

Now, again at the door
of Declan’s cabin, I paused a moment so I could catch my breath. It
wouldn’t do to show up panting and sweaty, especially if he were
feeling just fine. But Daddy said he had a nasty flu. What if he
wasn’t OK?

I knocked. No answer.
Knocked again, then tried the doorknob. It was open, so I let myself
in.

The room was dark and
dank, shades drawn and no lights on. It felt like no one had let air
into it in a couple of days. “Declan?” I called out. No answer.

Movement on the bed
about made my heart stop. Declan lay there, eyes closed.

“Declan? Are you OK?”
I rushed to his side. He didn’t open his eyes. Even in the dark
room, I could see he looked sweaty and flushed. I brought my hand to
his forehead. He was burning up.

Swearing under my
breath, I headed to his bathroom. Did a pig-headed man like Declan
have any medicine or did he just plan on walking it off all the time?
Opening his medicine cabinet, I found a First Aid kit and then, on
the bottom shelf, an old bottle of Aspirin. That would have to do.
Shaking, I shook a few pills into my palm. In his kitchenette, I
found a glass in a pile of dirty dishes in his sink. That would have
to do as well.

Back at his side, I
tried to coax him awake. “Declan?” I brought a hand to his hot
forehead. His black hair lay plastered to him. I smoothed it back.
“Declan, you need to sit up. You have a fever. You need to take
some medicine.”

Suddenly, his hand
grabbed my wrist and pinned it down to the pillow. He looked at me,
wild-eyed and crazed with fever. “Don’t you dare!” he spat out.

“Declan, it’s
Kara.” Frightened, I brought a hand to his unshaven cheek. “You’re
sick.”

Panting, he sank back
down, exhausted, eyes on me still. I grabbed the Aspirin and water
from his bedside table and brought it to his mouth, half-expecting
him to bash it away against the wall. Instead, watching me, wary and
guarded like a wounded animal, he parted his lips. I placed the
Aspirin in his mouth and brought the glass to his lips. He drank a
sip and swallowed, then drank more, finishing the whole glass. Then
his eyes shut again and his hand fell off of my wrist. His body
slumped, passed out.

“Declan?” I tried,
knowing it was probably useless. His lips looked so cracked and dry.
“You should drink some more. You look dehydrated.” My hand still
shaking, I brought my palm to his burning forehead. He didn’t move.

I hadn’t seen a
thermometer in his bathroom. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing
he’d have anyway. Thermometers were for worried moms taking their
kids’ temperatures. I was surprised Declan even had Aspirin.

Nothing to do now but
wait and see if his fever would come down from the medicine. I busied
myself cleaning up, opening the windows to let in some fresh air,
washing the dishes in the sink. I found a large water bottle and
filled it with cold water. I filled his empty ice cube tray and set
it in the freezer.

Back at his bedside,
Declan lay looking more peaceful in a deep sleep. Tentatively, I
brought my hand to his forehead. It felt cooler. My entire body
sighed in relief. If the fever could be controlled with medicine,
he’d be all right. Probably. He just needed someone to make sure he
took it.

I wondered how long
he’d been down there sick by himself. Had he spent all day
yesterday passed out, no water, alone in his suffering? I’d been
around yesterday, I could have cared for him. I felt sick I hadn’t
known that he needed me.

I grabbed a towel and
filled a bowl with cold water. At his bedside again, I brought the
cool, wet cloth to his forehead. He stirred slightly under the
sensation, but didn’t wake. I had to guess it felt good, he must
have been so uncomfortable, sweaty and dehydrated and alone. I wet
the towel again, then brought it to his face. His cheekbones stood
out more prominently, his stubble longer than I’d ever seen it.
Even gaunt and sick, this man looked like the hottest thing I’d
ever seen.

The sheet lay bunched
down by his stomach. He didn’t wear a shirt. It was a testament to
how sick he was that I hadn’t fully noticed that fact until now.
Unsure yet driven on, I dipped the cloth back into the cool water,
then brought it to his chest. He lay there, unmoving. Slowly, I drew
the cloth along his pecs, so defined, bare for me to study. I’d
watched him so many times, seen him from a distance without his
shirt, but now here he was, at my touch.

Tattoos played across
his muscles, tribal swirls along one shoulder, a band around his
bicep. I traced them with the damp cloth, using that as my excuse to
touch where I’d wanted to for so long. I might have been cooling
him down, but I was heating up.

The cut of his pecs,
the ridges of his abdomen, I drew the cloth slowly along every inch.
This man was pure, packed muscle. Down at his side, I noticed the
white, tough skin of a scar. Tracing my fingers along it lightly, I
wondered what had happened. It had faded so much I hadn’t noticed
it before. It had to be old, something he’d gotten years ago, but
it had to have been painful, several inches along his stomach. There
was so much I didn’t know about him, but I wanted to know it all,
every untold story, every secret.

I didn’t know who he
had close to him, but something told me he didn’t have many. Maybe
no one. I wanted to kiss that scar, take the pain of it away, care
for him better than anyone ever had. Softly, slowly, I drew the cloth
along his skin, caressing every inch.

My hand rested on his
sheet. A glimpse of his hip lay exposed. Bare. I realized that he
probably had nothing on at all underneath that sheet. My breath
caught in my throat.

I remembered the last
time I’d been in his cabin, that night he’d caught me. So
naughty, I’d turned the key in the lock, opened up his door and
walked right in. I hadn’t made a conscious decision to get into his
bed, it just happened. I’d lain on his bed, between his sheets
still rumpled from where he’d last slept. Enveloped in the darkness
surrounded by his scent, I couldn’t help it. So desperate for his
touch, my carnal craving dominated all of my senses. I’d driven my
fingers down into my soaking wet sex, working myself and coming so
hard against my own hand.

I remembered the sound
of his voice from the doorway when he’d said my name. The feel of
his hands, rough down on my wrists after he’d come to me on the
bed, pinning my hands above my head. He’d shocked me, touching my
fingers and asking me if he’d smell my sweet pussy on them. I’d
never heard anyone talk like that, never thought of anyone doing such
a thing. But instantly I could see it, him sucking on my fingers,
licking my own juices off of him. I nearly came again right there
pressed underneath the hot, solid length of his body.

And now he lay before
me, stripped naked. No washcloth now, I trailed my hand along his
chest, up along his tattoos and hard, honed muscles. Down I swept my
fingers along the ridges of his abdomen.

“Kara,” he
whispered, hoarse, filled with longing.

I pulled away, sitting
up straight, guilty as charged. His eyes remained closed. He didn’t
move a muscle. Had he said my name, or had I made that up?

Tentative, I couldn’t
help but bring my hand to him again. My full palm to his hot skin, I
ran my fingers along his perfect chest.

“Kara,” he groaned
again, yearning for me. No, I hadn’t made it up. He was calling my
name, eyes still closed. Maybe he was half-awake, maybe still asleep
and dreaming. He wanted me.

My eyes traveled down
again to the sheet and then widened, because now I could see a huge
bulge, outlined, thick and long against his thigh. I’d touched him
and he’d gotten hard. He looked enormous.

I stood up quick in
alarm. What was I doing? Molesting a feverish man while he lay passed
out in his sick bed? Had I truly lost my mind?

Declan was going to be
fine. His fever was coming down. My father was probably about to walk
in here any minute to see what was taking me so long. I had to get
back up to the house and tell him everything was all right.

But everything wasn’t
all right. I stood shaking by Declan’s bed for another second
before turning to go. Everything had changed. And whatever was
happening, I knew it would give me no rest.

Now

In a bright,
whitewashed store with ABC letters hanging in the window, I took my
time looking through gift options. There was a newborn baby boy in
Bozeman who needed to be spoiled. Everything looked so sweet, cloth
books a little one could gnaw on, stuffed giraffes to snuggle with,
keepsake baby books for all of the firsts. They had the softest blue
baby blanket I’d ever felt plus a fuzzy zip-up hoodie with bear
ears up top. I could just picture a chubby little baby face in it.

“Are you shopping for
a gift for someone? Or…” A salesperson came over, glancing at my
flat stomach.

“A gift,” I
acknowledged. Though I had to admit, a store like this pulled at my
heartstrings. One day I hoped I’d be buying a zip-up hoodie with
bear ears for my own baby. Or two, or three. I did want a family some
day. And wow was it easy to start dreaming about that with Declan.

I needed to stop that
slide and fast. This morning, the way he’d taken me, so savage with
need, claiming me as his own, my whole world had exploded. We’d
lain there panting and I’d wanted to stay like that in his arms
forever.

Not him. He’d leapt
up, showered and gotten to work.

This week together was
nothing more than a transaction. I had to remember that, keep it
front and center in my brain. Maybe I should make myself an index
card. THIS IS A BARGAIN NOTHING MORE. I could flash it in front of my
face when I started gazing at him with little dancing hearts in my
eyes.