Free Unleashing the Storm by Sydney Croft

creaky stairs, her pulse already pounding in anticipation of
having Tom inside her. At the landing, Spazzy, a wire-haired terrier mix, lay
at Tom’s door like a sentry. For a moment, she thought Spazzy might have the
same issue as Cheech, but when she reached down to scratch him between the
ears, the sensation that flashed through her wasn’t one of suspicion. Spazzy
liked Tom. And Spazzy had also seen him go outside in shorts and bare feet.
    Odd.
Tom wasn’t a smoker; she’d have smelled that. Maybe he’d gotten too warm. The
old house didn’t have air-conditioning, and the rooms overheated on sunny
afternoons.
    She
hesitated at the landing, cast a glance at Derek’s door. Derek, who had warned
her about Tom. Who had flirted with her, had liked her cooking. Who didn’t seem
to want Deb like Tom did. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, pushed
away the strange pinch of jealousy that tweaked at her for the second time
today. She had never been territorial when it came to men. How could she be,
given that she couldn’t limit herself to one man per season?
    None
of that mattered right now. She needed sex, and she needed it now. Derek might
not mind her climbing into bed with him out of the blue, but she already had a
connection with Tom. She could save Derek for later. For when Tom wore out or
he decided he’d rather have a stacked blonde.
    She
hurried down the stairs and stepped out onto the front porch, grateful for the
cool breeze that rippled the fabric of her baggy sweat shorts and that seemed
to shrink her tank top to her aching breasts.
    Find
Tom.
    The
dewy grass tickled her toes as she headed toward the barn. She didn’t need the
bright light from the nearly full moon to guide her—she could find the barn
blindfolded—but it helped her keep an eye out for Tom, who was nowhere to be
found.
    Lifting
her nose, she inhaled, seeking his scent. Now that they’d mated, his fragrance
had become a beacon, stronger than it had been before, and she should be able
to smell him if he was nearby. She caught a lingering impression—he’d been this
way recently.
    Frowning,
she stopped at the stack of hay bales that had been delivered yesterday and
that needed to be hauled into the barn. A T-shirt lay draped over one corner.
Horse snorts and sleepy chicken trills and the sounds of animals moving about
in stalls collided in her ears, but no footsteps.
    She
glanced back toward the house, cursing. Derek might be her only option right
now. But dammit, sleeping with him would only cause problems this early in the
game. Dinner had been mildly amusing, the way the two men had been so blatantly
competitive, but in all seriousness, the rivalry was a bad sign. Clearly,
neither was the type to share, and she had no time or desire to deal with
jealousy or posturing or idiotic alpha-male chest pounding. And unfortunately,
Tom and Derek seemed to be as alpha as it got.
    Hands
on hips, she looked into the distance, into the forest behind the farm, up the
hill toward the exotic animal acres, in the field to the west.
    The
field where one of the horses frolicked, seemingly chasing a man. A man who
moved like an Olympic sprinter. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. There
was no way a human could keep up with a horse. No, her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. The man was Tom, and he was running a race with Shamal,
her little gray Arabian mare.
    She
inhaled sharply, her mind trying to make sense of what she was watching. Did
Tom possess some sort of animal gift like hers? Was he somehow genetically
enhanced? She wouldn’t put it past the government to try something like that.
Especially with soldiers.
    The
graceful power of his body mesmerized her, drew her, made every cell quiver
until they felt ready to burst, and she suddenly didn’t care if he was Robocop.
Heat washed over her until her clothes felt sticky and confining, and she
stripped out of them, spread them on the bales of hay. She threw back her head
and let the