How very, very strange, she thought.
And like Marshal Roberts, she truly hoped Rafer never, ever learned he was there.
That wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing.
CHAPTER 11
She was suffering.
Cami lay stretched out on the bed, a sheen of perspiration on her flesh several nights later her eyes closed. Need swamped her as she gritted her teeth and cursed Rafe until hell wouldn’t have had him several days later.
Because she was miserable. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fight the burning arousal tormenting her.
The supple, firm vibrator lay pushed beneath her pillow, useless to her now. There had been a time when it had actually worked. When dragging it along the bare folds of her pu**y had taken her close enough to the remembered feel of Rafe’s fingers and tongue on her flesh to allow her to work it slowly inside her cunt and, long minutes later, to find the release she so desperately needed. There had been a time when she had known he wasn’t close enough to go to, and her body had allowed a little alternate pleasure.
It simply didn’t work anymore.
The feel of the battery-operated toy wasn’t even close to the feel of his fingers and tongue, let alone the sensation of his c**k working inside her. The heated stretch and burn of his iron-hard flesh was so much more extreme. It was thicker, hotter, throbbing inside her powerfully instead of the weak, pale imitation of the artificial vibrator. He had ruined her, that was all there was to it. No other man, no other touch would do.
She gritted her teeth and bit off a furious expulsion of breath. She was too scared it would turn into a scream of pure frustration. Because she was so damned horny she was on the verge of calling him and begging him to f**k her.
She could jump in her car; it wouldn’t take that long to drive to his ranch. There were still some icy spots on the road, but most of the snow had actually been removed. She could knock on his door again and spend the night letting him f**k this need for him out of her system.
Sitting up in the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and pushed her fingers through her hair, further ruffling the shortened strands as the hardened bud of her cl*t throbbed in misery.
If she could just get off a little bit, then it would help. Just take the damned pressure off or something. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how long she tried, it wasn’t happening.
If she just hadn’t been so insane as to take the mountain road that night and find herself snowbound with him. She wouldn’t be in this position. She wouldn’t be aching for him until she was certain it would drive her insane. Or was this why she had taken the longer, more mountainous route home from Aspen rather than the more direct drive along the interstate? Had that building need, that hunger she couldn’t control, been working on her subconsciously? Creating a situation that left her with little choice? Because consciously she had known what would happen if she were to be stranded at the ranch. She had known the need pulling at her would have taken care of the rest.
The hunger was a craving that never seemed to completely dissipate. She was like an addict, strung out in desperation for that next hit. Her body demanding its fix.
That was how she felt. Addicted to Rafer Callahan. Now wasn’t that a fine fix to find herself in.
As she cursed herself silently for the weakness, the low, muted buzz of her phone on the bed stand had her reaching out quickly for it and pressing the call button.
It could be the nursing home calling about her mother. Cami hadn’t heard from them all week. She could have checked the caller ID, but she didn’t want to know it wasn’t Rafer. She wanted to hope, to believe, until the last possible second—
“Hello?”
“I’m at the back door; let me in.”
Rafe.
Her eyes closed as her heart immediately began racing in a hard, excited rhythm. Her body immediately sensitized further. She could feel her heart racing, demanding as though the need had somehow summoned him. He was there, a dark male hunger rasping his already deep voice.
Hunger flooded her system, stronger, hotter than ever as she felt her juices flooding the flushed, heated tissue of her pu**y.
“You shouldn’t be here, Rafer. Go home.” It was all she could do to push the words past her lips and make the demand.
“Do you have company, Cambria?” The silky menace in his tone assured her it was a damn good thing she did not have company. The dominance in it had her breathing increasing; the sense of possession and determination rolling across the line shouldn’t have been so erotic.
“No, I don’t have company.” Pushing her fingers through the shortened strands of her hair, she clenched her thighs against the increased ache. “I’m sleeping.”
“Open the back door or I’m coming to the front. And I’ll knock until you answer baby or until your neighbors call the sheriff. Take your pick.
“I can promise the gossip will be as juicy as that lush little pu**y of yours.” The words were an erotic warning. An explicit, completely arousing promise. Because her pu**y was wet.
“Damn you, Rafe.” She disconnected the call, tossed the phone across the bed and jumped from it, to race from the bedroom to the backdoor.
He would do it too. He would let everyone hear him knocking and demanding to be let in. He would probably let everyone hear the erotic promises. The warnings of spankings. Oh God, she was going to come before he ever touched her.
As she moved quickly down the steps and through the hall to the other side of the house, she told herself she should hate him for doing this to her. She should blast him herself for blackmailing her. It really wasn’t fair. She should never let him get away with manipulating her like this.
Instead, she could feel the excitement pouring through her, tearing at her senses and sensitizing her body until the brush of her short, silky nightgown was like a stroke of sensual pleasure against her flesh.
She ran for the door barefoot, the folds of her pu**y slick and heated, her ni**les hard. Her womb was tight with the need for orgasm, her flesh, aching for his touch. Cami rushed into the kitchen and to the back door and threw it open with every intention of giving him her opinion of his high-handed arrogance.
Her lips were parted to let the insults fly. to berate, she was prepared to chastise. She had every intention of relieving some of the frustration that had built inside her all week.
He gave her another way to vent it instead.
Before she could get the first word out he gripped her h*ps and jerked her against him. Lifting her from the floor he pressed her against the wall.