AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He shrugged. “I got tired of dealing with shitstorms—especially ones I should have been smart enough to prevent.” Despite the offhand reply, pride expanded his chest. He’d left Magnolia Grove under the momentum of one of those self-induced shitstorms, well aware a lot of people assumed he’d never turn himself around. Coming back in a position of trust and authority felt good. The reluctant admiration in her eyes felt good.
“Preventing personal shitstorms is one thing. Preventing them for an entire city seems like a huge responsibility. That’s a lot of people to protect.” She slowed to run her fingers over the rough bark of a stark, leafless maple. The chilly air had turned her unpainted nails light blue.
He caught her hand and tucked it into the warmth of his and led them down the walkway toward the gymnasium. “I’m a protective guy.”
That earned him a scoffing sound. “Ricky Pinkerton might beg to differ.”
“See, we do have some glory days to relive,” he teased. Of course, they were standing in the shadow of the very spot where he’d broken Ricky’s nose at senior prom, for not knowing the meaning of the word “no,” despite Sinclair saying it more than once. He hadn’t known her then, other than from a distance. A nice girl, from a good family, and on every guy’s radar thanks to one of those truly remarkable growth spurts nature had bestowed over the summer. Ricky hadn’t been the only one fantasizing about getting into her panties, but he’d definitely been the most aggressive in the face of a clear and unconditional refusal. “As it turns out, I wasn’t protecting Ricky that night.” He drew her to a stop. “I was protecting you.”
She leaned back against the wall of the gym, and crossed her arms. Her chin came up, but her lips curved, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. They’d been over this ground before. “Thank you, but I didn’t need protecting. I had everything under control.”
“Sure you did. I should have minded my own business.”
Her stubborn little chin tipped higher. “I knew how to handle myself.”
“Oh, yeah?” He faced her and braced one forearm against the building, to one side of her head.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then flicked up to meet his, and he fell into midnight blue.
“Yeah,” she said softly.
He leaned in, bringing their faces close. “What if he’d done this?” Slowly, he slipped his hand inside her coat, under the loose hem of her sweater, and trailed his fingers around her naval.
“That wouldn’t worry me.”
Warm, cinnamon-infused breath washed over his chin. He inhaled, tasting her in the shared air, unlocking startlingly vivid memories of endless make-out sessions from their storage space somewhere deep inside his brain. Stolen hours spent behind the school, or down by the creek, or parked at the Lookout in his piece-of-shit truck, kissing until the windows fogged and their lips went raw. Need roused in his gut, heavy and staggeringly strong—like a hungry beast awaking after a long hibernation.
“How about this?” He eased his other arm around her, taking her weight against him as he pulled her close and slid his hand into the back of her jeans deep enough to tangle in her thong. “Would this worry you?”
Her breath caught. Slender hands grabbed his biceps and held on as he nudged his thigh between hers. She shifted until his pounding cock nestled against the fly of her jeans. “I’d tell him—”
“Me.” He ran his mouth along the side of her neck, scoring her skin with the edge of his teeth. “What would you tell me?”
“Shane…”
Wait, his mind insisted, because that wasn’t a yes, but his hands had a will of their own. One cupped her ass and hauled her more tightly against him. The other swept up her rib cage and closed over one soft, lace-covered breast. The tip tightened against his palm, and her little moan sent tiny vibrations all the way to his balls. He lifted his head and stared down at her and those plush, parted lips just millimeters from his.
“What would you tell me, Sinclair?”
…
Lips she hadn’t kissed in years hovered enticingly close. Irresistible energy jumped the small distance and woke tiny nerve endings in hers, making them tingle with anticipation. No, not anticipation—that was too tame a word for the bone-deep need gripping her. Like a recovering alcoholic staring down a double shot of premium, ninety-proof whiskey, she could practically taste the illicit flavors flowing over her tongue, burning a path straight to her heart, and finally quenching a thirst she’d never completely cured with ten years of safe, harmless substitutes.
There’d been kisses before Shane—not many, and not memorable in any visceral way—and there’d been kisses since. Fun kisses, passionate kisses, a few surprises, but none had stormed her senses and captured her soul. None, except his. Would his kiss still affect her the same way after all this time, or was it some elusive magic generated by youth, fearlessness, and the utter newness of it all? More importantly, was curiosity a good enough reason to throw caution to the wind and find out?
“Shane,” she whispered, and tipped her head a fraction of an inch, bringing their mouths closer. His breath warmed her lips. Rock-hard biceps flexed under her hands.
“Jesus, I missed you.”
His drawl snuck into the low words and sent her heart bounding to close the distance forged by time and circumstances, but her mind pulled the leash. Hard. Had he missed her? Really? Where had he been during those weeks when her world had spun out of control? When she would have given anything for a single word? By the time he had finally reached out, it had been too late.
Way too late. Self-preserving instincts kicked in, jerking her back as far as the wall behind her would allow while she struggled to find her voice. It surfaced, weak and pitchy. “I’d tell you—”
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured. “Anything.” His fingers teased her aching breast while his lips brushed the corner of her mouth.
Her resolve wavered.
Stop. You went down this road before. It led to a long, hard fall, and some wounds that never healed. Don’t let him draw you along the same dead-end path. Stay strong. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves. “I’d tell you to back off.”
