Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(41)

“Stop calling me Cupcake and stop leaving me baking and baby supplies.” I pace the room and stop to glare at him. “Stop trying to fix me.” I flip open the baby book and point at the sonogram picture. “Stop doing shit like this. Stop being nice.”

His head whips to me. “Someone has to,” he growls. “Be nice to you.”

“You might be protecting me, but you’re not my mental-health or happiness keeper. Do you understand me?”

Slowly, he turns. His body tight and coiled. Then he storms toward me. He cages me against the fridge, my feet touching the tips of his. My senses come alive. Every part of Davis pressed against me feels right.

He looms over me, his chest heaving like a bull. “I know what you’re fighting, Dakota. I know what’s inside that head of yours. I know what you’re running from. But I’m not walking away.”

My whole body’s vibrating, and his words just shake it even more. “Why?”

“You had to be a fighter for a goddamn long time. You had no choice. Now, you have a choice. Let someone take care of you.”

It slips out of my mouth. “Then take care of me.” I tip my head back to look at him, arch my body into his.

Davis’s hands return to his sides. “We can’t do this.”

“Why? Because you’re so honorable? Because of duty?”

He dips his head, his breath warm in the space between us. “Because the last thing you need is a man pawing at you.”

“I wish you would paw at me,” I whisper. Honesty’s boiling inside of me.

“Dakota.” My name falls strangled from his lips.

“You won’t even look at me. You won’t touch me.”

“Touch you is all I’ve fucking wanted to do since you’ve been back,” he grits out. “But how can I, Koty?”

My lips part. His confession warms every part of my soul. “You can, Davis. But you don’t care about me.”

An agonized sound rumbles in his throat. “You’re wrong there, Dakota. Especially about that.”

“Then prove it.”

Davis roams broad hands up my body. They linger on my waist, gripping it tight. “This is a bad idea,” he husks, gaze blazing.

I grip the hem of his shirt, refusing to let him loose. “It’s the best idea.”

His eyes close. “When you argue with me, Cupcake, it turns me on. Something fierce.”

“Bossin’ the boss man.”

He leans in, and his hips press me back against the fridge. The muscle of his square jaw pulses as his voice drops to a low growl. “What if I fucked you right here, right now? Spread your legs, yanked those pretty panties aside, and bent you over the kitchen counter.”

A tremulous breath escapes me. My sex dampens. My chest heaves. It’s all I can do not to whine my approval. I need it. Every atom in my hormone-addled pregnant body craves Davis Montgomery.

“Got news for you, Hotshot,” I whisper. “I’m not wearing panties.”

He hisses a breath. Desire darkens his face. A big flinger slides into my waistband, all calloused and rough, when we both hear it.

The creak of a door.

A violent burst of barking comes from Keena.

I jump and Davis goes rigid. The change is stunning. Man to machine. His hand goes to his hip, on the gun he keeps there.

I freeze. My eyes dart to the main room.

No.

Footsteps.

Keena’s savage barks echo through the silent lodge.

“Who is it?” I ask in a whisper. A feeling of complete blind panic crashes in on me. My heart’s a hummingbird trapped in my chest.

“Cupcake,” Davis whispers, pressing me back against the fridge. His body becomes a brick wall between me and the intruder. He reaches for the gun on his hip as his lips move against the cool shell of my ear. “Don’t fucking move.”





“Call off your goddamn dog, Davis.”

“Fuck.” I give a sharp whistle, and Keena quiets, but still paces the floor. My heartbeat hammers in my ears.

Of course, it’s a brother. It’s always a brother. Giving me grief. Spiking my blood pressure. Cock-blocking my goddamn dick.

Charlie steps into the kitchen, covered in mud and snow, and I can’t decide whether to shake his hand or shake the shit out of him. Two minutes ago, I was this close to kissing Dakota. This close to fitting her curves perfectly beneath my palms and fucking her in my kitchen. Maybe he ruined the best thing that could have happened. Maybe he saved my goddamn ass. Either way, it’s a chance I won’t get back.

“Everything okay?” Charlie asks, his amused eyes bouncing between me and Dakota.

“No,” I growl, holstering my Glock. “It’s not fucking okay. I could have shot you.”

I glare down at Keena, pissed off at the way she flew off the handle over someone she sees every damn day of her life.

Charlie grins. “Payback.”

My gaze stays locked on my brother as the memory of that long-ago hunt passes between us. “What do you want, Charlie?”

“I wanted to talk to Dakota.” His eyes move over my shoulder. “A favor.”

I bristle.

A soft voice floats. “Down, boy.”

I tense as Dakota grabs my bicep and comes out from behind me. The soft sway of her hips, all that tousled dark hair, those pretty flushed cheeks…