Page 39 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

FORWHATSEEMEDlike hours, Mercy had been tossing and turning. She flopped onto her side. Her gaze slid to the clock. It actually had been hours. Three, to be exact.

She was fatigued, no doubt about that, but she wasn’t sure why she couldn’t fall asleep.

Maybe it was the foreign environment. The odd smell in the room. The itchy sheets. The mattress that countless others had slept on. The clothes that weren’t hers.

Perhaps it was Rocco’s betrayal that was like a hot knife in her chest.

Or maybe it was that he was only a couple of feet away, sprawled in a bed, and she wasn’t touching him. Her opportunities to do so had been few and far between before and were dwindling with each passing hour.

She had no idea what tomorrow might hold, or even if his feelings for her were genuine. But everything she felt for him and wanted with him was real.

Mercy had spent her entire life worrying about others, their thoughts, their feelings, their expectations, their needs, their wants.

What about her desires?

Why shouldn’t she be selfish for once and only think about herself?

No thoughts of the commune. Of her father. Of the ATF. Of the full moon. Of the transgression of sleeping with a nonbeliever.

She wanted to take what she needed on her own terms. This might be her last chance.

Biting her lower lip, she wondered if Rocco was awake. He hadn’t moved. He was still on his back, hands clasped behind his head.

She peeled back the covers, slipped out of the bed and climbed onto his.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked at her. “What are you doing?”

Slowly, she lowered her head to his, giving him time to pull away. But he didn’t. He watched her intently as he leaned in, and then she kissed him. Tentatively. Testing to see if he’d reject her.

Rocco shifted, easing away, and something in her chest sank to her stomach. “What do you want, Mercy?” he asked, his voice soft, almost sweet, as he caressed her cheek.

The words rose in her throat and stuck there.

When she brought Rocco to the compound, she had hoped that he would stay there with her or that she would eventually leave with him, but that they would be together. As a couple. That she would finally feel all the passion and pleasure that she’d only experienced through reading about it in books.The English Patient. Madame Bovary. Sula. Ulysses. Atonement.

Although most of them didn’t have happy endings. It looked as if her story with Rocco wouldn’t either.

But she could make the most of the here and now. “I want you.” More than she’d wanted any man she’d ever met.

“Today has been a roller coaster of emotions for you. In a few days, if you still want to, then—”

Mercy pressed her lips to his, silencing him. She didn’t know if she’d be able to look at him tomorrow without feeling a rush of anger. Much less in a few days. She didn’t know if she’d be in town or on the compound. All she knew for certain was that she had to do everything in her power to protect the commune. From him.

“Tonight,” she said. “Unless you don’t want this.”

Don’t want me.

“No, that’s not the problem. Rest assured, I want you very much.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

“Too late for that.” She pulled her shirt over her head and slipped off the leggings, baring herself to him. “But I want this.” She’d fantasized about being with him. So many times. She wondered if her fantasies outnumbered his lies. For now, one outweighed the other. She wouldn’t let anger rob her of this joy, this simple pleasure—feeling good in his arms. “My turn to use you.”

The words slipped out without thinking, sounding cruel, which wasn’t like her.

But he sat up, his gaze raking over her, and gave her a grim smile. “I’m happy to be used by you anytime.”

He took her mouth in what began as a simple kiss, but quickly heated when she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lay her down, resting her head on a pillow.

“You’re insanely pretty.” His words flowed like warm honey over her bruised feelings.

---