Search and Rescue by April Wilson
Chapter 29
Killian Devereaux
Scout runs around the yard sniffing like a maniac. I’m sure he’s bummed that he missed out on all the excitement this evening. He finally does his business and runs back up onto the porch. We come inside, and the dog gets a drink from his water bowl while I stoke the fire.
When I head down the hall, I find the bathroom empty, and I hear Hannah puttering around in the bedroom. By the time I’m done in the bathroom and make it to the bedroom, she’s sitting up in bed, leaning on pillows propped against the headboard, her tablet in her lap.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask her.
“Reading.” She lays the tablet down on top of the nightstand. “But honestly, my own life is more exciting than a novel at the moment.”
“Scoot over,” I tell her, and then I sit on the edge of the bed and reach for her arm. “Let me check your wound.”
She glances down at the stitches. “They look good.”
I apply fresh antiseptic ointment. The sutures look good—no redness or swelling, no sign of infection. “Looks like you’ll survive,” I tell her. She has a doctor’s appointment in about a week to get the stitches removed. “How does your ankle feel?”
“Not bad,” she says. “I did just take a pain pill.”
“Sutures out in a week, and your cast off in five weeks. You’ll be good as new.”
“What did Shane say to you?”
I was expecting this. “Not much, honestly. I think he was caught offguard. He said he’d think it over.”
“It’s your decision, not his,” she says. “I don’t know what he needs to think about.”
I shrug. “No matter. It’s done.” I brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ear. “I’ll have to make one trip back to Chicago to get my personal belongings. I don’t have much, as my apartment came already furnished. I live in his building, so I’m hoping he’ll let me out of my lease early.”
She laughs. “He’d better, or he’ll have to deal with me.”
I lean over and kiss her. “That’s my wildcat. Don’t worry. He’s a good guy. It’ll be fine.”
I turn off the bedroom light and climb onto my side of the bed. Scout jumps up to join us. After sniffing and rubbing on Hannah a bit, he settles down at the foot of the bed and curls up like a fox.
I lie on my back in the dark, my cock throbbing thanks to all the adrenaline still flowing through my veins. My body has a mind of its own, and that train has left the station without asking me. But she’s been through a harrowing experience tonight, and sex is the last thing she needs. I don’t want to push her, so I try to think about other things, such as what I’ll need to pick up in Chicago, or what type of job I can find here in Bryce or perhaps in a neighboring town.
I reach for her hand and link our fingers. “Tell me about your job.”
“Well, you know I work for a wildlife conservation organization. We rehab injured wild animals and provide education to schools and the public.”
“Weren’t you doing something with wolves? I remember something about wolves.”
“When I was in graduate school, I wrote my thesis on wolf populations in the northern Rockies. When I finished school, I took the job here in Bryce. I don’t get to work with wolves anymore, but I do get to work with other important species, like bald eagles, mountain lions, black bears, and coyotes.”
“I’ll need to find something I can do around here to support myself. I was thinking maybe I could find something in law enforcement. The sheriff seems like a good guy. I could work for him.”
“We won’t need much,” she says. “I don’t make a lot at the conservation center—it’s more a labor of love. My Jeep’s paid off, and so is my home. The land was a college graduation gift from Shane, and I actually helped build the cabin with a local co-op, so it was very affordable. I don’t have a mortgage, and I keep my bills to a minimum so I can afford to do the work I love and not have to chase a paycheck.”
“I like the sound of that. I guess I’ve always been a bit of a minimalist at heart. The personal stuff I have in my apartment in Chicago would maybe fill three medium-sized cardboard boxes. Speaking of my stuff, I’ll need to return to Chicago to get it.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’ll come with you, if you want me to.”
I roll to face her. “Of course I want you to come with me. We could fly to Chicago, and then we’ll drive my Jeep back here. I guess I should have realized we were destined for each other. We drive the same vehicle.”
Hannah grins.
“What’s so funny?” I ask her.
“I’m imagining how my family will react when they see us together—I mean really together. They’ve been teasing me mercilessly about you since we met.”
I lean in and kiss her. “Hopefully they’ll be happy for us.”
“They will be, trust me,” she says.
She rolls on her side and pulls me close. Then she hikes her good leg up over my hips, pressing close to me. My cock, which of course is already hard simply because I’m this close to her, brushes against the sweet spot between her legs. The only thing separating her body from mine is a couple layers of fabric.
She kisses me hungrily and pulls me closer.
“Careful,” I say against her lips.
“I’m fine.” She pushes me on my back and rolls up on top of me so that she’s sitting astride my waist, her weight on her knees.
“Watch your ankle,” I warn her.
She braces her hands on either side of my head and leans down to kiss me. “We need to celebrate.”
I grip her waist to hold her steady. “Celebrate what, exactly?”
“Everything. The poachers are in custody, you quit your job, you’re moving here, we’re together—”
I sit up and cover her mouth with mine. “All good reasons to celebrate.”
When I press the tips of my fingers between her legs, she gasps. I can sense her heat and dampness even through her underwear.
I never thought this could happen. Hannah McIntyre—the girl of my dreams, who I’ve been chasing for what seems like forever—is sitting half-naked on my lap in a bed. “Are you for real?” I ask her, hoping this isn’t just an elaborate dream cooked up by my subconscious.
She grins as she leans in and kisses me, her lips simultaneously coaxing and demanding. “I am. Are you?”
“Hell yes.” Keeping her gaze locked onto mine, I slip my hand down the front of her underwear, brushing against her soft, warm skin. My middle finger slides between the slick lips of her sex—my god, she’s wet—and my thumb starts rubbing tight little circles on her clit.
Her gasp morphs into a throaty moan. “Oh, god, that feels good.” Closing her eyes, she rocks against my fingertips, no shame, no hesitation. She knows what she wants, and she takes it.
When I increase the pressure on her clit, she gasps into my mouth, practically panting.
“Yes! Oh, my god, just like that. Don’t stop.”
She leans her forehead against mine, and I can feel the quivering in her taut thighs. She’s close, I can tell, and I love knowing that I’m the one bringing her here.
“Killian,” she breathes, and it’s the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
I could spend the rest of my life pleasuring this woman. “Come for me, wildcat. I want to feel it. I want to watch you.”
I think my words tip her over the edge because, almost immediately, she falls against me and shudders, and a keening cry catching in her throat. I press my mouth to hers and drink in the sounds.
It takes me a minute to realize she’s attempting to push her underwear down, but she’ll never get them off with that damn cast in the way.
“Damn it,” she growls in frustration as she tries to do the impossible.
“Here, let me.” I grab hold of the soft fabric and tear the seam apart.
“Yes,” she says, and then she reaches for the nightstand drawer. “We need a fucking condom.”
There’s no way she can extend her arm that far, so I steady her on my hips and do it for her. I hand her the packet, and while she tears it open, I lift my hips and shove my boxer briefs down past my thighs.
As she rolls the condom on my length, I lie back and relish this moment.
“Best day ever,” I say through gritted teeth as she completes her task.
She pushes me onto my back and positions herself over my cock before sinking down onto me. The pleasure is incredible, so much heat and tightness. She raises herself, then drops down again, over and over, until gradually she’s seated to the hilt. I have to grit my teeth to maintain control and not start shoving myself into her like a madman.
But I hardly need to move because she’s doing all the work. She rocks on me, taking charge, her hands pressed to my chest, her fingers sifting through my hair. The look of utter bliss on her face matches the way I feel.
I’m afraid she’s going to hurt her ankle, though, so I sit up, hold her carefully to me, and roll us so that I’m on top. Gripping her good leg, I hike her thigh up against my hips to open her up. She bucks into me, hard. Her face is damp with perspiration, her eyes glittering with arousal. I don’t hold back, because I don’t think that’s what she wants from me, and I want to give her exactly what she wants.
I’ll prove to her, even if it kills me, that I’m exactly the man she needs.
