I blinked up at him. “To deliver your groceries?”
“Here.” He gestured vaguely at the compound around us. “Other drivers won’t.”
I considered lying, giving some bland answer about customer service or professionalism. But standing there, with his dark eyes studying me so intently, I couldn’t bring myself to be anything but honest. “The money,” I admitted. “The tips are good.Reallygood.” I paused, heart hammering against my ribs as I added, “And… I might like seeing you, too.”
The words hung between us, more revealing than I’d intended. My cheeks heated, but I didn’t look away. Something shifted in his expression, a subtle softening around his eyes and a slight parting of his lips as he processed what I’d said.
“Yeah?” The single word held a vulnerability I hadn’t expected from him. Somehow, that made me feel a little better about my admission.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.
Rancor took a slow, careful step closer to me. My breath caught as he moved deliberately into my space, giving me time to retreat if I wanted. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. He leaned in slowly, his face coming toward mine. But instead of the kiss I expected, he dipped his head to the curve where my neck met my shoulder. I felt his breath first, warm against my skin, then the unmistakable sensation of him inhaling deeply, taking in my scent.
The intimacy of the gesture froze me in place. No one had ever done that before. Smelled me with such deliberate intent. It should have been strange. Should have made me uncomfortable. Instead, heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading outward until my fingertips tingled with it.
His beard brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, the unexpected tickle making me giggle. The sound surprised both of us. His lips curved against my skin in what felt like a smile, and he drew back enough for me to see his face. Sure enough, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth, transforming his features. Making him look younger, somehow. Less burdened. My heart stuttered at the sight.
I didn’t think about what I did next. Didn’t plan it or weigh the consequences. I simply acted on the pull I’d felt since the first moment I saw him. My arms moved up around his neck, fingers finding the warm skin above the collar of his T-shirt. I pressed myself against the solid wall of his chest and rose up on my toes.
His hands settled just above my waist, large and warm through my shirt. He held me like I was something precious, something that might break under too much pressure. I pulled him down toward me, our faces inches apart, giving him time to pull away.
He didn’t.
Our lips met in a kiss that started gentle and tentative. His lips were warmer than I expected, softer. He tasted faintly of coffee and something distinctly his own. My fingers curled against the nape of his neck, into the short bristle of hair there, and I felt rather than heard the low, contented groan rumbling through his chest.
The kiss deepened, his grip tightened at my waist, drawing me closer, while I explored the contours of his shoulders, the strong column of his neck. When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Rancor pressed his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingled in the small space between us. His eyes, so dark and unreadable from a distance, revealed flecks of amber among the brown, and a warmth I hadn’t expected.
“Cora,” he said, just my name, but it carried weight. Likehe was testing how it felt to say.
“Rancor,” I whispered back, the name strange and perfect all at once.
“Marcus,” he said softly. I pulled back slightly, confused. He growled and tightened his grip around me. “Marcus Wheeler. My name.”
I smiled up at him. “Would you prefer I call you by your first name?”
He shook his head. “Ain’t that man anymore. Just wanted you to know.” He lifted his chin to rest on top of my head. He actually trembled as he held me. I got the impression this was something important to him, but I had no idea why.
We stayed like that until reality reasserted itself in the form of distant laughter from somewhere in the compound. I reluctantly pulled back, my hands sliding down to rest against his chest. His heart beat strong and fast beneath my palm.
“I should go,” I said, though everything in me wanted to stay.
He nodded, stepping back just enough to give me space to open my car door. The loss of his warmth was immediate, the late afternoon air getting cooler as the sun set.
I slid behind the wheel, started the engine. Through the windshield, Rancor stood watching me, his expression open in a way I hadn’t seen before. A look of profound longing painted his face like a beacon. It was funny, because in the romances I enjoyed reading, the hero often wore the exact same expression. I raised my hand in a small wave, and he returned the gesture, that same slight smile touching his lips.
As I drove away from the compound, the taste of him still on my lips, a realization settled over me like a warm blanket. For the first time in years -- maybe for the first time ever -- I’d found people who made me feel something other than the need to disappear. And in Rancor, I’d found a man I desperately wantedto know better.
The thought both comforted and terrified me. I’d spent so long keeping myself safe by keeping everyone at arm’s-length so I didn’t form connections with others that could be severed easier than they could be forged. Now I was speeding away from a compound full of ex-cons with the lingering sensation of one of them on my skin, under it, seeping into places I’d closed off inside me a long fucking time ago.
And God help me, I couldn’t wait to go back.
Chapter Four
Rancor
The soil pushed between my fingers, damp and alive. Dawn painted the sky in shades of purple and orange, filtered through the camo netting that hung above the compound. Sarah’s garden had been waiting for me since before first light. The mint had grown wild again, pushing into spaces it didn’t belong. Sarah would have laughed at that.You always try to take whatever room that isn’t yours. She often told me that when she’d wake up with me wrapped around her, my face snuggled against her neck. She would have that smile that lit up everything inside me. I reached for the pruning shears, the weight familiar in my palm.
As I worked, the burn scar on my forearm caught the morning light, paler than the surrounding skin, a reminder of another life. Construction foreman. Husband. Almost a father. I’d been proud of all three. I’d helped turn the warehouses into livable spaces for all of us. I’d done my best to be a good person and the best protector to my family, but my best efforts hadn’t been enough.
