“My mom. She was an addict. She didn’t take very good care of me, or remember enough that she should be.” Lila watched me carefully as I spoke. Listening intently. “When she died, I was put into foster care. It was me and my plastic bag being shuffled from place to place. There were no attachments until the Holts. I …” My words left me for a minute, but Lila seemed to know what I meant.
“You found love with them. With Maggie and Levi.” Her eyes were soft, liquid in the low lights in the barn.
“I did. With them and my brothers and sisters.” I rubbed my thumb along her knuckles again, savoring the feeling of touching her. She was so soft, and I loved the way a blush followed along every time my fingers brushed against her. “I left after Levi’s accident … everything felt like it was coming apart again.” That feeling had been choking me. The sensation I’d had when I was little had come back tenfold. The fear that everything could vanish in an instant.
“Like people were leaving.” Her hand gripped mine. “When Grams died, that’s how I felt. Still do, honestly. I’ve felt guilty about it. Like she abandoned me, but that doesn’t really make sense.”
“That’s it exactly.” Relief washed over me. My siblings had tried to understand, but they didn’t seem to share that same sense of panic I felt when Levi died. There was that feeling torn between missing him and being angry at him for dying. Then there was the worry that I might turn around and find someone else in my family that I’d claimed, who would leave me without meaning to.
Anyone could have an accident. Hell, Wade’s job was dangerous. None of us were prepared when he announced he would pursue a career in law enforcement. We’d all thought he’d gone a little crazy. When he was a kid, he was more than a bit of a handful, so being Mr. Law and Order was a new look. Then Kipp said he was going to bea statie. Now Maggie was getting older. Life was balanced on a knife’s edge all the time.
“I get it,” she was nodding.
I could tell that she did, and she was suddenly that much more attractive to me. Not only beautiful, but it seemed like sheunderstood.
“Lila,” I murmured, her name tasting like temptation.
Her breath caught, and when her lips parted, it wasn’t words that filled the space between us. It was want.
Her hand found mine, pressing it flat against her cheek. The faint tremble there matched the one in my chest. Slowly, I traced the line of her jaw, feeling the slope of her neck, until my thumb rested at the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat fast beneath my touch.
When I leaned closer, her knees brushed mine, and I had to hold back the desire that overwhelmed me. All day long, there seemed to be this magnetic pull that kept growing. She made me feel crazy, and this thing with someone coming after her? Unacceptable.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?” My mouth hovered a breath from hers.
“I don’t know.” Her words came almost in a whimper as I edged closer to her, her eyes dilating. “Like you know how everything ends.”
“But I do. So do you,” I whispered. “I’m a sure thing.”
My hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. She surged up to meet me, and our mouths collided in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, a reckless release all at once.
She fisted my shirt, dragging me closer, until there wasno space left. My other hand anchored her waist, pulling her against me, solid and certain. Her lips tasted faintly of the barbecue’s sweetness and the malty aftertaste of beer, all tangled together. I groaned into her mouth, and she swallowed the sound, answering with a gasp that set my blood roaring.
This wasn’t just heat. I needed her.
In fact, I was desperate.
Her mouth opened beneath mine, sweet and urgent, and the kiss deepened. Every nerve lit up, and all the control I thought I had dissolved like the fire that had gutted her mudroom. Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging with a desperation that made my chest tighten.
“East,” she whispered against my lips, and the sound was enough to ruin me.
I pulled her onto my lap, her thighs straddling me, the blanket bunching beneath us. She fit there so naturally, as if she had always been meant to. The soft fabric of her leggings pressed against the rough denim of my jeans, her heat piercing through every barrier. My hands found her hips, firm and guiding, unable to let go.
Her curves pressed close against me, chest to chest, heartbeat hammering against mine. I traced the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the shape of her ribs under my palm. Each place I touched, she trembled, and each tremor fed the hunger that threatened to break me open.
Her tongue tangled with mine, demanding, claiming, until I was groaning into her mouth and she was gasping like the air had grown thin.
My lips left hers only to blaze a path along her jaw,down to the hollow of her throat. Her head tipped back, granting me access, and I tasted her there, all salt and skin. Her pulse thundered against my tongue, and I wanted more.
“Are you wet for me, sugar?”
Her fingers clutched my shoulders, nails biting through cotton, urging me closer. “Maybe,” she breathed, though her hips rolled once, slow and desperate, against me. The friction nearly undid me.
“I’ll bet those panties are drenched.” My hand slid beneath the edge of her hoodie to the bare skin of her belly. The heat of her burned into my palm, and she shivered as if I had touched fire to her skin. “I might really come in my pants this time.”
Her laugh was broken, breathless. “That’s the worst kind of confession.”
