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If that was all they could have, then so be it. It would have to be enough.
“Just sex,” she heard herself say. Just a mind-blowing distraction that she desperately needed.
Figuring she was risking rejection, Alana kissed him. She felt the resistance, all right. His muscles went hard. The tension came off him in waves. But the instant erection was a good sign.
“I’m sure,” she said, murmuring it against his mouth and taking the kiss to the next level. “I’m really, really sure.”
She would have added a thousand reallys if necessary, but those two seemed to do the job. That and she ran her hand between them and pressed her palm to his erection.
Egan cursed, maybe aiming it at her, maybe at himself, but he lost the choke hold he had on all that goodness. He returned the kiss, and the hot and hungry urgency came through loud and clear.
His mouth went to her breasts, kissing whatever parts were not covered by the bra. He was moving fast, maybe so it wouldn’t give him a chance to change his mind. Alana went with that and upped the speed, too, figuring this was going to be a desperate kind of quickie.
She didn’t bother with his shirt but instead went after his belt. Thankfully, it cooperated and gave her speedy access to his zipper. Alana shoved it down, immediately sliding her hand into his boxers.
He did more cursing and yanked off her panties. Not down her legs, either. The thin fabric ripped, and he tossed them aside. Egan reached in his pocket, pulled out a condom and had it on in record time. He took hold of her hips and thrust inside her.
Yes, this was where battle and speed mattered. Apparently, so did extreme, intense pleasure. Because that’s exactly what he gave her. He moved inside her. Harder, deeper, faster. Until Alana lost her breath and didn’t care if she ever found it again. She just held on and let Egan give her exactly what she’d asked for.
Sex, with him.
Yes, it was enough. Not just for their future but for the climax he gave her that had her skyrocketing to that amazing place of pure pleasure and mindlessness. She felt him go down that same slippery slope as he came.
Alana didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her muscles had disappeared. But that was okay, too, because it meant she could just stay put with her head on his shoulder. Body to body. His breath mingling with hers while he was still inside her. She wanted to just stay like this for hours. Maybe even longer.
But she couldn’t.
She also couldn’t avoid eye contact, either. He wouldn’t see the guilt that he no doubt expected to see there, but Alana suspected he’d be able to see something deeper. That tangled mix of still-healing wounds and fear.
“I’m still planning on going to the life celebration,” she said. Talk about an inappropriate post-sex subject. “But my suggestion is that you stay away.”
His eyebrow rose. “Why?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” she quickly qualified. “But there’s going to be trouble. Right before you got here, I called the inn and spoke to Melinda.”
His eyebrow lifted even higher, and he adjusted his posture, sitting up straighter. “Why?”
“I invited her to the life celebration,” Alana admitted. “I figure it’s time for a good air-clearing.”
“AIR-CLEARING,MYASS,” Egan muttered as he stepped from his truck at the town’s park. He had another word for what he was sure was about to happen.
Shitstorm.
It definitely wouldn’t be the life celebration that Tilly had meticulously planned. Then again, what Tilly had planned was a tribute to the perfect son who never existed. Tilly wanted a whitewashed version of Jack to be hailed and praised. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if the woman hadn’t created that whitewash by trying to stomp down the truth. In doing so, Tilly had stomped down Alana, too.
Egan figured Alana had reached a breaking point. Not a snap but more so fed up with the lies. He couldn’t blame her for that, but he still thought she was going to regret inviting Jack’s lover to this event. That’s why he’d tried and tried to talk her out of it. But those attempts had failed.
Of course, it was possible that Melinda simply wouldn’t show. She might not even accept Alana’s invitation, and Egan held on to that hope as he made his way from the truck and toward the already-gathered crowd.
Alana hadn’t driven with him. After their quick round of sex, she’d headed home to shower and change, and Egan had gone to the ranch house to check on his dad. That hadn’t been an especially long visit since he’d been on the phone with Audrey again, but Effie, who was skipping the celebration because of the heat, had said she’d keep an eye on him.
Even though the wind had kicked up from a storm front that was moving in, the heat was still a factor. It was the same for the dress blues uniform that Egan had decided to wear for the occasion. Even though the shit show component of this event might indeed materialize, he wanted to pay his respects to Jack. Well, partially pay respects, anyway. It occurred to him that if Jack were alive, Egan would want to punch him in the face for the mess he’d created.
With that unsettling reminder coursing through him, Egan made it to the edge of the crowd and stopped, peering over the sea of cowboy hats and even some umbrellas to try to spot Alana. He saw her on the makeshift covered podium positioned to the side of the draped easel that he assumed was holding the painting.
Tilly was there, too, dressed in mourning black, complete with a gauzy thin black scarf that looked more like a veil that’d just slipped off her head. In contrast, Alana was wearing a yellow skirt and top.
She looked pissed off.
