Montana Sky

said, I’ve got a houseful of company, and morning comes early.” She took out her keys; he snatched them out of her hand. “Look, McKinnon—”
    “No, you look.” He tossed her keys over his shoulder, and they rattled into a corner. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. You’re staying right here where I can keep an eye on you.”
    “I’ve got the midnight shift.”
    He merely picked up the phone, punched in numbers. “Tess? Yeah, it’s Ben. Willa’s here. She’s staying. Call Adam and tell him to adjust guard duty accordingly. She’ll be back in the morning.” He hung up without waiting for an assent. “Done.”
    “You don’t run Mercy, Ben, or me. I do.” She took a step toward her keys and found the room revolving as she was slung over his shoulder. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
    “I’m taking you to bed. I handle you better there.”
    She swore at him, kicked, and when that failed wiggled into position to take a bite out of his back. He hissed through his teeth, but kept going.
    “Girls bite,” he said when he dumped her on his bed. “I expected better from you.”
    “If you think I’m going to have sex with you when you treat me like a maverick calf, you’re dead wrong.”
    His back throbbed where her teeth had dug in just enough to make him mean. “Let’s see about that.” He shoved her back, pinned her, and handcuffed her hands over her head. “Fight me.” It was a pure dare delivered in steel tones. “We never tried that before. I might like it.”
    “You son of a bitch.” She bucked, twisted, and when he lowered his mouth to hers, bit again. He rolled with her, careful to keep her hands—and nails—away from his exposed flesh.
    Her aim with her knee was off just enough to make him grateful, close enough to make him sweat.
    He used his free hand to rip her shirt, then the thin cotton beneath, but didn’t touch her. It was the grapple, the excuse for violence he thought they both needed to scare away the fears.
    And when she lay still beneath him, panting, her eyes closed, he thought he knew what they both needed next.
    “Turn me loose, you coward.”
    “I’ll tie you to the headboard if I have to, Willa, but you’re staying. And when we’re done, you’ll sleep. Really sleep.” He touched his lips to her temple, then her cheek, her jaw in a sudden shift to tender.
    “Let me go.”
    He lifted his head. Her hair was tumbled over the dark green corduroy spread of his bed. There were flags of angry color riding high across her cheekbones. Her eyes burned so hot he was surprised his skin didn’t blister.
    “I can’t.” He lowered his forehead to hers, wondering if either of them would be able to accept it. “I just can’t.”
    His mouth found hers again, quietly, slowly, deeply, until she felt something inside of her quake to the point of shivering apart. “Don’t.” She turned her face away, tried to struggle back to level. “Don’t kiss me that way.”
    “It’s rough on both of us.” He turned her face back, saw her eyes were damp and dark now, the heat burned out of them. “It may get rougher yet.” His mouth met hers again, lingered so that the shock swept through him. “God, I need you, Will. How the hell did this happen?”
    He dragged her where he was bound to go, making her head reel and her heart break open to pour out secrets she’d kept even from herself. She sobbed out his name, then simply lost her grip on the slippery ledge she’d clung to for longer than she’d known.
    When he lifted his head again, she stared into his face, one she’d known her whole life, and saw fresh and new. “Let go of my hands, Ben.” She didn’t struggle, didn’t shout, but only said again, “Let go of my hands.”
    So he did, gentling his grip, then releasing it. When hestarted to lever himself away, those hands came to his face, framed it, and brought him back. “Kiss me again,” she murmured. “The way I told you not to.”
    So he did, deepening the moment, then drowning in it.
    He pushed aside her tattered shirt to find her, claim her, his hands sure and slow. She surrendered to it, the sensation of those hands gliding, scraping, stroking. Gave in to it, the taste of that mouth drawing and drinking from hers. Yielded against it, the heat of that body, the hard angles pressed into the curves of hers.
    Whatever he wanted tonight, she would give. Whatever he seemed to need, she’d find. The quiet, unspoken desperation seeped from him