Naughty Stranger

by Stacey Kennedy

  He tucked a finger under her chin, bringing her gaze to him. “It’s not pity. It’s sympathy. Two very different things.” He slid his fingers over her cheek, then took her hand in his and stared at her for a loaded moment. “That’s why you gave up nursing?” he finally asked.

  She nodded, her heart in her throat. “I couldn’t go back after that.”

  He hesitated and then asked, “And why did you decide to move to Stoney Creek?”

  “Adam and I took a trip here.” She glanced out the window, staring at the water. “We’d hiked the mountains, swam in the waters.” The memory was a good one, bringing lightness to her tight chest. “We had the most amazing vacation.” She hesitated, then forced the words out. “Adam died the weekend after.”

  Something intense and broken crossed Boone’s expression. He glanced down at their held hands, exhaling deeply before addressing her again. “You came back to the last place you’d been happy?”

  She nodded, her chin quivering.

  “Jesus, Peyton.” He gathered her in his arms then and held her tight, no space between them.

  “Don’t you need to know the rest?” she asked after a minute went by.

  “Right now, I’m going to hold you,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m okay.” She sniffed.

  “Yeah, but I’m fucking not.” He held on to her for a long time. Until her tears dried and she no longer trembled. Only then did he lean away and slide his finger against the side of her face. “You are so strong…so fucking strong, do you know that?”

  She leaned into his warm touch and nodded softly. “It took me a while to realize that, but yeah, I know that now.”

  Their gazes held. So much unsaid passed between them. Peyton wasn’t sure what would happen after today. Because right now, they were bared. To each other. Their pain exposed. She wasn’t running away. And neither was he.

  He brushed his thumb across her lip, following the movement with his gaze, and took her hand again. “Do you mind talking more?”

  “I’m okay,” she breathed.

  He glanced away for a moment, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, and when he looked back, his hard cop expression had slid into place, revealing nothing of what he felt. “What about Adam’s past? What kind of man was he?”

  The memory of Adam brought warmth and a smile. “He was good and kind. A friend to everyone.”

  “He owned a real estate company, is that right?”

  “Yeah, he inherited it from his grandfather. He was really good at that. You know, people trusted him. Justin was his partner, and was more the brains of the operation.”

  “And you’ve always been close to Justin?”

  She nodded. “Adam and Justin were like brothers.”

  Boone paused to consider, then cocked his head and asked, “And Justin’s presence here was normal? The act of randomly showing up would be something he would have done before?”

  “Without a doubt,” she said without any hesitation. “He thinks of me as family. The fact that he wasn’t here sooner is more of a surprise, to be honest.”

  Boone frowned.

  She shook her head and said softly, “I know you’re looking for some red flag that’s going to stand out from my past, but there isn’t any there. All I knew in Seattle was love. Adam and I were living the American dream.”

  “Until the car accident,” he retorted gently.

  She saw where he was going. “Which has to be a coincidence.” She almost felt bad for Boone. Being a cop had to wear on his soul. He had to be suspicious of everything and everyone. Even her. “I’m telling you, Boone, this is not about my life in Seattle, this has to be about something or someone here.” He didn’t look convinced. “But you’re having a hard time believing me, aren’t you?”

  “I cannot be the judge of this,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing tight. “My instincts where the women in my life are concerned are flawed, and I know this.”

  Her lips parted and then shut as something about Boone occurred to her. She knew Adam’s passing had done some serious damage to her heart. Chelsea’s betrayal did the same to Boone. “Then who will be the judge?”

  “Rhett or Asher,” he said softly. “As long as you’re all right with my telling them what you’ve told me tonight.”

  She nodded, glancing away, suddenly feeling like she was an open wound and he’d just poured salt onto her. “Yeah, of course that’s fine.”

  “Hey, look at me.” He tucked a finger under her chin, bringing her attention to the warmth of his eyes. “Please don’t let that hurt your feelings. My past has shown me that when I care about someone, I miss things. And I don’t want to miss anything where it comes to your involvement in this case.”

  She knew his lack of trust shouldn’t bother her. He’d made her no promises. And yet, she’d come to trust him implicitly.

  Now she realized how truly dangerous that was. Because suddenly, with her past exposed, she wasn’t this new, anonymous woman she’d become when she’d moved to Stoney Creek. She was back to being the woman who loved love.

  Chapter 11

  The church was eerily silent. Not a car outside driving down the road. Not a single person anywhere. The pews were all empty as Peyton strode toward the front. She looked down at her black dress, a feeling of familiarity sliding across her. Candles were lit on every available surface, the lemon scent leading her forward toward the dark-haired man at the organ. His back was to her as he played a song, sounding both dark and despaired. She moved closer toward the coffin at the end of the aisle, even though that was the very last thing she wanted to do.

  She glanced from her left to her right, and then behind her. Everything was slow, hazy, like she was a second behind time, not quite able to catch up. She drew closer to the coffin, her heart clenching with every step she took. Adam. He lay like he did when he was sleeping. Quiet. Peaceful. “Adam,” she managed to choke out, her voice echoing around her. Because he would never wake up. “Adam,” she cried.

  “I’m not in there.”

  Peyton gasped, but it sounded like someone else when she suddenly found the coffin empty. She spun around finding the man at the organ now turned around, facing her. “Adam,” she whispered, moving closer, needing to feel him again. Adam was right there, talking, looking at her…breathing. “How can this be?” she whispered.

  She blinked and then he stood in front of her, cupping her face. “You’re not safe, Peyton.”

  His touch was gentle and loving and sweet and all the things Adam was. She shut her eyes and leaned into him, placing her hand over his. “What do you mean?”

  A blast of coldness hit her face, opening her eyes. Adam was a few feet away now. “You’re not safe,” he said again.

  God, his love…she missed that. She missed him. “Why am I not safe?” she demanded.

  “Tell Boone to keep looking. Don’t let him stop.” Adam’s eyes pleaded with her, love so clear in his gaze.

  “I don’t understand.” Every step she took, he backed away. “Adam!” she screamed, running for him when he began fading. “Adam!”

  He held out his hand, reaching for her as he disappeared. “Peyton.”

  “Peyton.” Not Adam’s voice. Boone. Strong hands shook her. “Peyton. Wake up.”

  Her eyes flew open, finding the bedside light on, and she jolted herself up in bed, realizing she’d been dreaming. But even awake now, she felt Adam’s concern, his presence, and her heart ached to sleep again, to see him again.

  “It’s all right,” Boone soothed, gripping her arms tight. “You had a nightmare.”

  “Jesus,” she breathed, her heart beating a mile a minute. She dropped her head into her hands, feeling the slickness of sweat coating her flushed skin. “I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

  “Nightmare about Adam?” Boone guessed.

  She nodded, brushing the hair off her face, glancing up at him. “I had them for months after Adam died.” And they were never happy dreams, where he sai
d he missed her. They were always cruel dreams where Adam was in distress.

  A heavy sighed passed through Boone’s mouth as he took her in his arms, holding her tight. “It’s been a stressful couple of days.”

  Yeah, it had. The murder. Justin had been in town. The car accident. And her helping the injured man. Plus Boone thinking maybe she was connected to the murder in her shop. She knew all those things would bring her back to the place she didn’t want to go. “Therapy helped quiet those nightmares.” Nine months and twelve days of therapy, to be exact.

  Boone held her head to his chest, stroking her hair. “It’s good you did that…spoke to someone. I restored my house as my therapy. I didn’t like the silence. Probably would’ve been cheaper to speak to someone.”

  “Whatever gets you through,” she said, exhaling deeply, trying to settle the racing of her heart.

  “Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  Each stroke of his gentle hands through her hair made breathing a little easier, bringing her out of her dream and back to reality. Back to this new life she had with Boone. “Damn this dream, though, it felt so real. More than any other before.”

  “What was it about?” Boone asked.

  She lifted her head, missing his warmth, sliding her fingers into Boone’s to feel connected to this world. “Adam was telling me that I’m not safe.”

  “Fear and worry can do funny things to a mind.” Boone gathered her in his arms and lay back against the pillows, pulling her close to him, regardless that she was drenched in sweat. “You are safe with me, Peyton.”

  “I know,” she admitted, shutting her eyes, absorbing the warmth and strength he offered.

  A pause. Then she heard the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you know.”

  Minutes went by while she breathed deeply, slowing her heart rate, reminding herself the dream wasn’t real. “This dream just felt so different than any others before it.”

  “How so?” Boone asked, brushing his fingers over her damp hair.

  “Adam’s never warned me.” He always seemed angry and distraught, but never afraid for her, only for himself.

  Boone’s deep inhale lifted his chest. “Maybe that’s just your own subconscious alerting you to danger.”

  “Not a believer in the other side?”

  Boone snorted. “The only ghost I’ve ever seen was a kid running down the street on Halloween with a bedsheet over his head. I believe in facts, in science, and in logic.”

  “Me too…usually.” She couldn’t shake the eeriness about the dream. “I don’t know, this time it felt really different.” He tilted her chin, turning her gaze to him, and she added, “In the dream, Adam asked me to tell you not to stop looking.”

  Emotion flashed in Boone’s eyes. “I won’t, not ever.” The light from the bedside table cast a warm glow over the side of his face. “You’re not alone in this. If there is something to find out, I’ll find it.”

  She cupped his face. “Thank you.”

  “Stop thanking me,” Boone said firmly. “I care about you, Peyton. I want you safe.” Then, not waiting for her reply, his mouth met hers.

  She basked in the knowledge that he had feelings too and clung to Boone, needing him to warm those the icy spots in her heart the dream caused. The kiss quickly turned from gentle to frantic. “I need you,” she rasped against his mouth, pushing off his boxer briefs.

  “You can have me,” he groaned as her hand grazed his hardened length. “Always.”

  She removed her pajamas and panties. Then his hands began to travel everywhere; her chest, her sides, her thighs, until he was pulling her up to straddle him. He cupped both breasts, tweaking her nipples, and then his hands moved lower, down over her thighs until he was squeezing her bottom, grinding her against his cock.

  Yeah, that’s where she wanted him. “God, yes, right there.” She moaned.

  He gave an inherently masculine moan and reached for her, turning her around so she was kneeling, her hands gripping the headboard. He’d shifted beneath her, and suddenly his face nestled between her thighs. Her eyes rolled back into her head at the first lick of her sensitive flesh. “Right here, Peyton?”

  “Yes!” she gasped.

  His low moan tickled against her nub and it sent shivers through her. Every soft lick against her folds had her shifting her hips, enhancing the pleasure. His hands gripped her bottom, squeezing tight while his tongue delighted her. So much so, she began rocking her hips, riding his mouth. Sensation overwhelmed her when he moaned against her sex again, obviously liking the way she owned her pleasure. She moved faster then, gently teasing her clit on his tongue, until he sucked hard.

  With a gasp, her body froze, and then a second later, she unraveled, shuddering against his mouth, gloriously quivering into her pleasure.

  She came back to herself when he reached for her, shifting himself back up the bed, and positioned her so that she straddled his waist. She pressed her heat against his erection as he reached for his wallet on the nightstand and took out a condom. They were both breathing deep when he rolled the condom onto his cock. And when his lips returned to hers, as if he couldn’t take a break from her, she couldn’t fight the needy moan that escaped. God, he made her feel, want, and need all at once. His tongue deeply stroked hers, and she kissed him back with the same fervor, wanting to feel alive. Boone made her feel alive.

  Desperation consumed her when she wiggled her hips and found the tip of his cock. She slowly took him in, relishing the low moan he gave. Needing to stare into his eyes, this man who brought her back from a cold place, she leaned back from his kiss and held his face in her hands. She slid up and down his shaft, lost in how he watched her. Intense. Aroused. Captivated.

  She was all that. And so much more.

  Losing herself in how amazing they fit together, she rocked her hips, arching her back into the pleasure. His masculine scent mixed with their sex infused the air while she ground against him searching for more. His hands explored her, not missing a spot she desperately wanted him to touch. Sometimes he cupped her neck. Other times he squeezed her breasts or her bottom. But he always seemed to move back to her face, her lips, always touching and looking at her. And in that touch, she wanted to lose herself, because she did trust Boone. Safe. With him, she had no fear. Her nightmares couldn’t touch her. Nor could anything touch her while she was wide awake.

  She shifted her hips faster and faster, feeling beautiful and wanted and so much more. She rocked her hips harder, urged on by the his deep, throaty groans.

  The pleasure soon began peaking. Her moans were uncontrollable now, as were his.

  Boone’s gaze intensified, expression tightened, and his cock grew thicker and harder inside her. His hands came to her hips, bracing and helping her gain speed. Skin slapped against skin. She cupped his face now, staring at this incredible man while they found pleasure in all this chaos.

  “Fuck.” Boone grunted, low and deep.

  She lost sight of him then as her pleasure took her soaring over the edge with him. Pulse after pulse, wave after wave of euphoria, she free-fell into the pleasure they created. A space that belonged only to him, and she trusted that, no matter what happened, he’d never let her crash.

  * * *

  Between the glow of the clock reading 2:00 a.m., the full moon outside brightening up Peyton’s bedroom, and Boone’s concerns, there wasn’t a hope in hell that Boone would sleep tonight. On his side, he stared at Peyton while she slept soundly, the moonlight casting over her pretty face. He reached out, stroked the hair away from her cheek, needing to see her.

  Someone was coming for her, Boone could feel it in his bones. And her subconscious was giving her the same warning.

  Why?

  Boone had interrogated thousands of people over the years. He could spot a liar a mile away. Peyton was no liar. He believed every word of what she told him about her life in Seattle. He believed the shock that the person in the SUV appeared to be hunting her in her e
yes.

  Eyes that slowly opened, looking sleepy and content. “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi.” He brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheekbone. Christ, he didn’t want to worry her. But the truth was he couldn’t find a single link to anyone who would want to hurt her. And it seemed inconceivable to believe that all this was a coincidence.

  There was a connection there between her late husband’s car accident and the one yesterday. Boone simply needed to find it.

  Obviously, Peyton read his frustration. Her brows drew together as she slid her hands beneath her cheek and the pillow. “Can’t sleep?”

  “A lot on my mind,” he admitted.

  “The case?”

  He nodded. “That, and other things.”

  Peyton watched him closely, her eyes opening wider, more awake now. “I’m really sorry that all this reopened your wounds with Chelsea.”

  He knew why her mind went there. She’d seen a peek into his fucked-up past, all because he bared his wounds so that she would open up hers. Truth was, only Peyton was on his mind. “Those wounds were open long before we talked last night.”

  “Maybe not wide open, though,” she retorted, those pretty eyes regarding him carefully. “I know it must have been hard sharing that story about Chelsea with me. I also know you told me that to make me feel more comfortable, and I’m really grateful for it.”

  “Like I said, fair is fair.”

  She smiled. “Still, it was sweet of you.”

  Sweet. Peyton only thought that because she still didn’t know the entire truth of what happened with Chelsea. She didn’t know how destroyed he had been, didn’t know it had taken him a year to look in the mirror again and recognize the man staring back at him.

  Before he could figure out how to explain, somehow feeling that he wanted her to know more of him, she wiggled a little closer, bringing all her warmth near him. And that’s where all the complicated shit faded away. She warmed him up, from the inside out, making his mind quiet in ways it had never been quiet.