“My cabin,” he answers like it’s obvious. “Ours now I suppose.”
His plan hits me like a bullet train on speed.
“No, I can’t,” I whisper trying to ignore the tantalizing bead of sweat rolling down his neck. “You don’t know me. You didn’t even know about the match.”
Dark green eyes meet mine and I lose my train of thought.
“That was before,” he says.
I can’t manage another protest as he kneels down in the mud to fasten my seatbelt and scribble directions onto an old fast-food napkin. This is insane. I’m insane. He’sdefinitelyinsane.
“Before what?” I ask, clutching the napkin.
His whole face lights up when he grins at me. Those dark eyes shift from shadowy forests to a warm spring meadow, and I freeze as his big calloused palm comes up to cup my cheek. For just a split-second I forget all about the men who want to kill me and the likelihood that trouble will follow me to this small idyllic town.
“Before I met my Angel,” he says, thumb tracing a lazy circle on my cheek. “Drive safe and make yourself at home. I’ll be back in four hours.”
His free hand bumps the brim of his hat up before he leans forward to kiss me.
It’s soft at first, like he’s giving me a chance to pull away. I can’t. Not because of his hand that’s shifted to the back of my neck. No, he’s giving me plenty of room to escape.
I just don’t want to.
My fingers curl tighter around the napkin in my hand, crinkling it as my heart pounds. His lips press a little firmer, a little surer, and I feel it everywhere, down my spine, in my stomach, in the sudden ache blossoming between my thighs.
Up close he smells like pine, sweat, and raw male musk. So fucking addictive it makes my head spin. I can feel the restrained power in his body, the way his chest rises and falls, and I wonderhelplessly how that heavy, solid frame would feel pressing me into the mattress.
A small, helpless sound escapes me before I can stop it, and I feel the way his mouth curves against mine.
The kiss deepens just enough to steal the rest of my thoughts, his tongue brushing mine in smooth intoxicating strokes. My free hand lifts without permission, hovering for a second before settling against his chest.
His shirt is damp with sweat around the collar, but I don’t mind. I always have a trace of grease or oil on my clothes. It reminds me that he’s real, not just some figment of my imagination I’ve conjured up to ease the crushing panic that’s been chasing me since I left Hollow Creek.
The hard, thick ridge of his cock twitches against my thigh through his jeans and realize with a dizzy rush just how big he is. The thought of trying to take all of him makes me tremble.
He pulls back, my lips parting as I chase the warmth he leaves behind before I can stop myself. His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin.
“Drive safe, Angel. Before I decide not to let you leave at all.”
I drive away, dazed and breathless, knowing with terrifying clarity that I’m already in too deep.
Carter
Her tires churn against the mud, the sound of loose gravel shifting under the weight of her car as she drives away. I’d love to be following behind her in my truck, rather than finishing my shift, but she needs to rest.
Those dark circles under her eyes haunt me.
I stand in the lumberyard long after her taillights disappear around the bend, my cock already thick and throbbing against my zipper. One kiss from that curvy mechanic with grease on her cheek and I’m wound tighter than I’ve ever been.
Instead of heading back to the crew, I turn away and reach for my phone, already dialing as I walk towards the lumber stacks. I surround myself with cedar, pine, and maple as I focus on the task at hand.
Fate and Casanova’s meddling have brought Sloane to me, but we have a rocky road ahead of us. I’ve got a woman that’s running from danger and the only way we can move forward in our relationship is if I can eliminate the threat.
Sheriff Larson answers on the second ring, voice alert in a way that tells me he’s not lounging behind a desk.
“I need a favor,” I say.
A pause stretches between us, just long enough for him to hear the tone I’m not trying to hide.
