Free Against the Wild by Kat Martin

calm.”
    â€œOh, Finn, it’s okay, boy. We’re going to fix you.”
    When Dylan returned, he was surprised to see Emily sitting on the ground next to Lane and Finn. The little girl was petting poor Finn, who was trembling all over, while Lane talked to him softly.
    For the next half hour, he worked over the dog, pulling the quills out one at a time, a painful procedure since they were barbed at one end. All the while, Emily and Lane kept the dog quiet.
    â€œCould have been worse,” he said as he finished.
    â€œWorse? Finn was really hurting.”
    â€œI know. But sometimes the quills get inside the animal’s mouth. It’s really hard to get them out.” He went back inside the house and brought out some spray antiseptic, gave the dog a good dose.
    â€œHe’ll be okay. Hopefully, he’s smart enough not to go near one of those things again.”
    â€œI don’t think he will.”
    â€œGood.” He smiled. “At least we don’t have to worry about skunks.”
    â€œSkunks? Oh, my God.”
    Dylan laughed at the look of horror on Lane’s pretty face. “Take it easy. There aren’t any up here. They’re all farther south. No snakes, either. Frogs are about it.”
    â€œExcept for bears, wolves, and moose.”
    â€œWell, yeah.”
    Lane smiled and shook her head. “I think Mrs. Henry is calling us to supper.” She extended a hand to Emily. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go in and eat.”
    Dylan watched the emotion playing across his daughter’s face. Uncertainty. Anxiety. Longing. For several seconds, she just stared up at Lane. Dylan’s chest squeezed when Emily took hold of the hand Lane offered, and Lane led her into the house.
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    It had been another long day and yet Lane felt exhilarated in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. Maybe never. As a child in rural Illinois, she had loved the open spaces, the clear skies, the green fields stretching along the highway. She’d been living in L.A. so long, fighting the traffic and smog, she had forgotten how good it felt to breathe fresh, clean air.
    At night she was exhausted, but also excited to be working on such an amazing project. And there was Dylan.
    Her attraction to him seemed to grow every day, more so perhaps, now that he was giving her the time she needed to know him. He had walked her to her room and given her one of those mind-blowing, world-rocking kisses, but he hadn’t pressed for more.
    Lane almost wished he would.
    Almost.
    At the tap of doggie nails on the floor, she glanced over at Finn. Amazingly resilient, he trotted up to her as she got ready for bed. Careful not to brush his injured muzzle, she gave him a few quick back scratches and he headed for his place in the corner.
    Tired to the bone, Lane climbed into bed and turned off the lamp, closed her eyes, and slid into a deep, mindless sleep. It wasn’t until sometime after midnight she began to toss and turn, her mind flashing with erotic images, her body growing hot and damp.
    She was no longer alone in the bed. Dylan was there, kissing her, pressing her down in the mattress, his strong hand fisting in her hair. The muscles in his long, hard body tightened as he moved, as his powerful erection thrust deep inside her. She was on fire for him, moaning, straining toward release.
    She was almost there, teetering on the edge of climax, whimpering softly. “Dylan . . .” she whispered. “Dylan, please . . .”
    Footsteps sounded in the hall, jerking her from sleep to wide awake in an instant. Eyes wide open, she listened for Dylan’s knock at the door.
    Embarrassment washed over her. Dear God, had Dylan heard her moaning? Calling his name? Heaven only knew what else she might have said. She waited, wondering if she should invite him in, let him make love to her, give her what her hot, erotic dream had promised.
    She heard the heavy thump as the footsteps