Free Broken Fences (A TroubleMaker Novel, #1) by Kelly Gendron

driveway.
    Colden’s hand
gently swept across Dusty’s naked back as he pulled her hair aside. Every nerve
in her body danced from the touch. The cool night air caressed her skin just
before his voice rasped, hot and low and right into her ear, “Dusty girl, lift
your hand and wave goodbye to your cousin.”
    Again she obeyed
Colden’s smooth command. Her hand rose to bid farewell to Sissy and Jimmy as
they pulled away from the house, leaving her alone with the manipulator of her
every movement. As the car disappeared from the road, she wanted to turn around
and face Colden, to confront him, to inform him that what happened back at the
opera house was a one-time thing. He’d broken her heart six years ago, and
Dusty would be damned if he’d get the chance to do it again—a tidbit, of
course, that she’d never tell him. She didn’t need him to know how bad he’d
hurt her or how much power he truly had over her.
    But the chance
to clear the air escaped her when she felt the warmth of Colden’s lips touch
her bare shoulder. Hot shivers flowed through her body. The feel of his
feathery lips moved up her neck. Falling under his seductive spell, she arched
to give him better access. His hot breath passed over her ear, and his skilled
tongue followed close behind. Another eruption of heat rolled over her skin. It
rippled to her brain and ignited her badly behaving hormones, again producing a
wetness between her legs.
    She’d thought
the orgasm in the opera house would’ve sedated her neglected hormones for a
while, fat chance. They were reproducing like crazy, begging for more. Her lack
of panties only intensified the awareness of what Colden James could do to her
with nothing more than a kiss. She had to get away from his hot breath, gifted
lips, and manipulative words.
    Turning from
him, she searched for the keys in her purse and hurriedly began making her way
to the door. Colden had let her go. A small part of her wished he hadn’t. She
stopped to insert the key but the door creaked open.
    Before Dusty
could figure out if she’d forgotten to lock it, Colden had pushed her away from
it. One strong hand pinned her to the house while the other reached down and
pulled a gun from his pant leg .
    Wait…Colden
has…a gun? Oh my God ! He’s been armed all this time?
    “What the—”
    Before she could
finish the sentence, the hand that was holding her to the house shifted up and
covered her mouth.
    He pressed
himself against her, and a finger fell over his lips. The firmness in his eyes
hushed her. He twisted around and did a quick inspection of their surroundings
before he glanced over his shoulder. “Take your shoes off,” he ordered in a low
whisper.
    “What?”
    “As sexy as they
are,” he said, with a slow grin spreading over his face, “they make too much
noise. Take ‘em off.”
    Not about to
argue, she reached down and slipped off her sandals.
    “Good girl.” He
winked, but then his tone turned grave and serious. “Now grab my shirt and hold
on. No matter what happens, don’t let go.”
    He waited until
she gave him an affirmative nod. Something had changed in him. No longer was he
the playful cocky St. James. He reeked of competence and fearlessness, a tower
of indestructible strength. He turned from her and, using both hands, lifted
the gun. His biceps puffed out, and the ink stretched across his tan skin. The
way he held the gun hinted that Colden was no stranger to handling the weapon.
    Do all
paper-pushers get a gun? Do the Feds train their desk agents too? Maybe they
do, just in case the agent is ever needed out in the field. That was the only
reason she could fathom why Colden looked so capable with the gun.
    As he slowly
moved toward the door, she decided she was thankful for the government’s
investment in proper training. She was sure he was overreacting and that no
intruders were there, as Odessa was a quiet town and with a low, nearly
nonexistent crime rate, but there was something