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I come again instantly, and so does he.
It’s terrifying, honestly, losing every last shred of self-control.
Pleasure drives me out of myself, rolling through my body like an earthquake until I scream so loud it spooks the horses.
Holt roars, pouring himself inside me, pumping so deep and so hard it claws at his soul.
My nails go to work again, ravaging his back until I can’t take how good it feels, until I just dissolve.
Like I said.
Terrifying.
…but God if I don’t want it again and again and again.
I scare myself a little more coming up from the frenzy, thinking what this means.
An uneasy truce isn’t enough anymore. Not with a man who pushes every last button in my manual.
I want to keep Holt Silverton messing me up for a long time.
* * *
I’m kinda glad I got everything out of my system earlier.
Makes it easier for me to be calm, snuggled up against Holt on the hood of his truck at the drive-in theater. The stars blaze bright overhead while an old Greta Garbo flick plays on the ginormous screen in black-and-white.
It’s a loosely held summer tradition for Heart’s Edge.
The town doesn’t do this every weekend, not when it’s spendy to run the big projector, and there’s something about movie licensing in the mix.
Nobody really cares what’s playing.
It’s about the atmosphere here, being together like this.
All of us just silhouettes, faceless, but part of the town, held together in this silent communion.
I haven’t been in a long time.
Not since I was little and used to come here with my parents and Sierra. We’d spend half the time watching the movies and the other half looking up and counting stars.
It’s almost bittersweet to be back here now, remembering happier times with a sister who wasn’t threatening my whole life.
I’m a little surprised, though, to see Reid Cherish here.
His Jeep’s parked a little ways off from dozens of vehicles.
For once he’s not done up in his suit, though he looks like he just came from work. No suit coat, his button-down shirt loose at the collar, tie off, sleeves rolled up.
Hell, his hair’s even mussed up, a bit of it falling in his face.
His gaze is locked on the screen, but it’s like he doesn’t quite see it from the way he’s glazed over.
Like he’s seeing something else, and he’s got this weird, melancholy look on his face.
I don’t want to feel sorry for him.
I don’t want to see that banker man as human.
But I know that look he’s wearing too well.
It’s twin to the feeling inside me, remembering how once I had a family to share nights like this, and now I’ve got nothing.
I tear my eyes away from Cherish and bury my face in Holt’s side.
No, not nothing, I think.
I’ve still got my ranch. I’ve got my dignity. I’ve got Frost and Plath.
And I’ve got Holt for however long this lasts.
Why the hell am I worried about Sierra or Cherish right now when they’re the people trying to take everything away?
At least Cherish is here. I shouldn’t be thinking about Sierra, but I can’t help it.
Not when I can still hear her girlish giggles and remember how she’d hug me like a real sister then.
Dad would let me pick out the stars on my own, but when I said them wrong, sometimes Sierra would patiently repeat them, one syllable at a time, until I said it right.
Ugh.
Part of me actually misses that annoying backstabber. Misses her being my sister and not my sworn enemy.
She’s vanished. Totally off anyone’s radar.
I haven’t seen her or Declan anywhere. Not even that big old truck of his that’s hard to miss.
No one’s tried to come sniffing around Nowhere Lane or the ghost town, either. I’ve ridden out every day, and found no new tracks. Ditto for Holt and Alaska going on patrol.
Holt told me about his meeting with the guys, how they said they’d keep their eyes and ears open. He also mentioned Declan and Sierra checking out of Charming Inn.
That should be good news.
Maybe they realized the jig was up, got smart, and left town.
That’d be a huge weight off my shoulders.
One less evil to contend with while I try to get everything sorted with the ranch. Maybe, just maybe, after things are secure, I can work out the will. Maybe I can pay Sierra something so she can get her life back on track without needing these shit-awful men.
Something’s still eating at me, though.
And I guess I’m ruining the night because Holt squeezes his hand against my shoulder, gathering me closer.
“You’re tense,” he whispers. “Something on your mind?”
“Just bad memories,” I say, practically crawling into his lap. “Sorry. I don’t mean to screw up our date.”
“Nothing’s screwed up as long as I get to be with you.” He makes an amused sound, nuzzling my hair. “You want to talk about it?”
