Somebody had officially lost control. Finally.
Their legs wrapped around each other, and they rolled again, Chloe crying out a little when a stone dug into her back.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, pulling him back. “It’s okay.”
He laughed at her exuberance. “You know, this place is called the lookout, not the make out,” he said.
She took a deep breath and turned her head one way, then the other. “Okay. I looked.” Then she reached up and grabbed him for another kiss. “Make out.”
Happily, he obliged. And found new places to kiss under her ear and down her throat, tasting salt and grit and skin and Chloe. “You really did like that ride,” he joked in between kisses.
“You knew I would.” She found a few places of her own to kiss, sending fire through his veins and way too much blood southbound. “You planned this.”
“Not this.” He eased a finger under a lacy bra, making her shudder at the contact. “I did not plan…” Lowering his head, he put his mouth over her bra, already reaching behind her to get the thing off.
“Shane.”
“Mmm?”
“We’re doing this?”
He lifted his head. “We’re doing something.”
She didn’t speak, holding his gaze as he slowly dragged his hand from the back to the front, under the bra, closing his palm over the curve of a sweet breast, her nipple budding in his hand.
Her jaw loosened as she fought for a breath. “That’s really…nice.”
“No kidding. Let me taste.” He dipped down and kissed the skin, suckling her while she rocked under him. He fought for control, instinctively knowing she’d need things to be as slow as he could stand to make them.
“You made me leave my bag,” she said.
He lifted his head, thrown by the statement that made no sense in his blood-starved brain.
“I brought condoms.”
And that made him smile. “You sly dog.” And then he remembered his wallet was in the ATV shed. “And way smarter than I am.”
“We can’t—”
“I know, I know,” he assured her. “But we can…” He moved his hand over her belly, thumbing the button of her jeans. “Play.”
A flash of warning in her eyes stopped him from opening the jeans.
“Too dirty for you?” he guessed. “Too many germs if I…” He inched a finger below the waistband. “Touch you.” He lowered his head to whisper. “And make you lose control in a very, very good way?”
He felt her shake her head and barely whisper, “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
He kissed her ear and leaned up again. “Just let me give you pleasure.”
“I can’t,” she said, adding a meaningful look. “Like, literally.”
He couldn’t have heard that right. She said she brought condoms, so surely she could, but… “Do you mean… Is an orgasm against your rules or something?”
She bit her lip. “It doesn’t happen for me. I mean it has…alone.”
“Oh. Oh.” He shook his head. “This is not right.”
She laughed now, closing her eyes. “I knew you’d take it as the ultimate Shane Kilcannon must-win challenge.”
“Hell yeah,” he insisted. “Right here, right now, sweetheart.”
Her laugh faded. “You can’t.”
He gave her his best you gotta be kidding me look. “You’re not even going to let me try?”
“I…”
He didn’t wait for her lame response, dipping his mouth to hers to quiet her with a kiss. She didn’t argue, but kissed him back, letting him take his sweet time, letting him roam her bare breasts and heat her whole body to a point where all she could do was sigh when he unzipped her jeans.
He needed only to touch her. Just a gentle, easy, perfectly placed finger…
She gasped when he found that place, closed her eyes, and bit her lip.
“Look at me, Chloe,” he urged. “Look at me.”
She slowly opened her lids, her eyes so dark with arousal he couldn’t tell the iris from the pupil. It was all deep and dark and locked on him.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me touch you. Like this. And this. And…”
She lifted her hips, letting him deeper inside her. “Shane…oh, Shane.”
“There.” He had her now. Had her. Held her, kissed her, found her sweetest spot and whispered her name and all he could do to her in her ears until she reached up and dug her nails into his shoulders.
“Let go, Chloe. Let go and let me have you.”
With a whimper, he watched her unravel, clinging to him, rocking against his hand, her body vibrating as he eased her over the edge to satisfaction. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and melted into a breathless release.
“Now you’ve learned the most important lesson of all,” he finally whispered.
“How to lose control in broad daylight when covered in dirt?”
He laughed softly. “Never, ever give me a challenge.”
She managed to open one eye, turn her head, and peek at him. “You made it seem effortless.”
“I’m really trying not to gloat, but it’s difficult not to.”
“You deserve to gloat. You got me riding in mud and basking in the afterglow all in one afternoon.”
He leaned over and kissed her, brushing some hair from her cheeks. “Not to diminish my expertise or anything, but you were basically wired to explode any second.”
“All this time with you, I guess.”
He fell back with a thud. “And she wonders why I’m a cocky son of a bitch.”
“You’re not a son of a bitch,” she said, pulling him back to her. “You’re wonderful, and you make me feel…normal.”
“If normal is perfect, then yeah. Good enough to eat next time.”
Her eyes widened.
“Aaaannd I crossed the line,” he teased. “Sorry.”
“Sex is so…messy.”
“I hate to break it to you, Chloe, but we are literally lying on dirt and grass, covered in mud, and probably being feasted on by a critter or two. You haven’t died of the mess.”
“Not yet. Tomorrow I could be in the ER.”
He lifted up. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about? That you’ll get sick?”
She didn’t answer for a long time. But she had something to say, he could tell. So he waited, still, close, patient. The way he would with a broken dog who was about to put two and two together and figure out what got rewarded.
“You know I told you I lived with my mother, alone, growing up.”
He nodded.
“She was crazy.” At his look, she shook her head. “Like, literally not right. She was a filthy, messy, disorganized, distracted…pig. My home growing up was a sea of boxes that should have been thrown away, clothes that were never in place, magazines, papers, mail, stupid things she found that she wouldn’t let go of…lamps, pictures, crap.” Her voice cracked with anger. “It was so unfair. So awful. Such a flagrant way of telling me she didn’t love me. And I was sick. Allergic to dust, which was like snow in my house, and mites and molds and paper and…you name it.”
“It’s unthinkable to live like that,” he said, stroking her arm in a way that gave sympathy, but he knew it wasn’t enough. “Where was your father?”
“They never married, but my dad worked in a coal mine and died in an accident when I was a baby. Our only family was my aunt. A couple times a year, my aunt Blanche would come to town and take me away. She was my godmother and, believe me, Cinderella didn’t do any better. My mom was very protective and really didn’t like Blanche, but she lost the battle. My aunt would take me to a pretty hotel, and we’d shop and go out to dinner. We didn’t talk about my home life or my mom. We still don’t, really, but she knew how hard it was to grow up like that.”
“And that’s what made you a neat freak.”
She turned to him. “Please don’t say that. Don’t imply that I’m not normal, because it’s my greatest fear that I’m going to turn
out like her.”
He stroked her cheek, regretting the comment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “How’d you manage to get out of there? How’d you find a way to study and get to college and build a career?” All of that must have taken one helluva lot of willpower and discipline, especially without the help and love from parents that he had always taken for granted.
She shrugged. “I had my sanctuary, my room, so clean you could eat off the floor, and I did occasionally when I couldn’t bear the kitchen. And I was smart, got good grades. I didn’t have a social life, because friends would mean I’d have to bring them to my house, and I would never do that. I got scholarships and took off after high school for Lexington and UK and never went home except for very brief visits and her funeral.”
“How did she die?” he asked.
“She got an infection after a routine surgery, which, I’m sorry, was probably her own fault.”
“So it didn’t crush you when she died?”
“I spent my life mad at my mother,” she admitted. “When she died, I was twenty-five. I was finally able to let go of some of that hate. It’s a slow process, because I was well and truly formed by then, including my, um, habitual tidiness.”
“So different from when my mother died,” he whispered, vaguely aware that he slid her T-shirt back down and tucked her closer to him. “That’s when I got—what did you call me? Cynical?”
She turned to him, searching his face. “I bet she wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“No, she wouldn’t have,” he said, feeling a punch of guilt. “But I can’t change.”
“Really? You can change other people—make them fall for dogs and ride in mud and get all kinds of messy—but you can’t change yourself? Maybe you haven’t met the right person to make you…what’s the opposite of cynical?”
“Trusting? Secure? Hopeful?”
“Are you any of those things?” she asked.
“Not since she died,” he said softly. “You were full of hate, but I was full of love. And it all evaporated when she left us. I still haven’t forgiven her.”
She inched up. “Forgiven her? For having a heart attack at fifty-five?”
He turned away, but she took his chin and made her face him. “Yeah, I’m mad about it,” he admitted.
She stared at him, her impossibly deep brown eyes glinting with gold in the sun, with sympathy and warmth and a promise of something he…something he wanted and couldn’t even articulate.
And it wasn’t sex. At least, not only sex.
A cold, crazy sweat stung the back of his neck.
“Well, that’s all kinds of wrong,” she said, sitting up all the way.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” he admitted, knowing that wouldn’t change a thing.
After a moment, she reached behind her and hooked her bra, then stood, slowly zipping up her jeans. He didn’t move because he didn’t even understand what he was feeling.
Chloe.
What if she was the right one? What if she was the one-in-a-zillion person for him? What if—
“Will you let me drive the ATV back?”
He blinked at her, the change of subject throwing him—and relieving him a little, too. “Can you?” Can you change me back, Chloe?
“If you don’t mind going really, really slow.”
But the problem was, he was falling really, really fast.
Chapter Fifteen
Chloe’s whole body was still humming when Shane pulled his truck onto her street. Humming from the wild rides, the intimacy, the secrets they’d shared, and the emotions that had churned up with as much force as mud under the ATV tires. But all that buzz went silent and cold at the sight of Aunt Blanche in the driveway looking wild-eyed and desperate.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” She dove to climb out the minute Shane stopped the truck. “What’s the—”
“Daisy is gone! She’s running around the neighborhood, and I can’t find her!” Blanche exclaimed. “I’ve had ten phone calls in the last hour.”
“Gone?” Chloe whipped around to Shane. “I locked the gate,” she insisted, turning from side to side as if Daisy might come bounding out from behind a bush.
Blanche looked like she was fighting tears, then she stepped back and blinked at Chloe’s mud-stained clothes, but didn’t say anything.
“Where was she last seen?” Chloe asked, reaching for her aunt as the severity of the situation rolled through her. “Close to here? On this street? How far did she get? Oh God.” She put her hand to her mouth and stifled a scream of pure fear and frustration. “She’d never hurt anyone, Blanche, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, I know, honey. I’ve told that to everyone who’s called, but…” She closed her eyes. “We have to find her.”
Yes, they did.
Chloe caught sight of Shane running to the back of the house, heading for the gate, which she knew she’d locked. “Who saw her last? Who’s called you?”
Blanche let out a breath. “Who hasn’t? It was people from this neighborhood mostly.” She pointed down the street. “Cindy Mayfield, who lives down there with her mother. The couple across the street with two kids. Someone called from their car, too, from two streets east.” She grabbed Chloe’s arm. “He didn’t say his name but told me pit bulls should be shot.”
Chloe swayed like she’d been shot. “I’ll head that way. Tell Shane where I went.”
Blanche nodded.
“I swear I locked her in,” Chloe added.
“I know, but she got out.”
Impossible, Chloe thought, but didn’t take time to argue. Instead, she bolted in the direction of the sightings, calling Daisy’s name and peering between houses, around bushes, down the side street.
Please, God. Please bring her back. Please let her be safe. Please let her be safe.
She heard footsteps behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see Shane catching up, a phone at his ear. “Just get here fast, Liam. If Garrett’s free, get him, too. Molly and Darcy. We don’t know how long she’s been gone or how far she got. We have to spread out.”
He caught up to her as he put the phone away.
“I locked the gate,” she said again, her voice cracking as tears threatened. “I swear I locked the gate.”
“I know you did. The lock was broken. Someone did this on purpose.”
She froze and sucked in a breath. “No.” Then ice-cold terror spilled through her veins. “Oh, Shane, if someone hurts her, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”
“Only after I do it with mine.” He gave her a nudge. “You go that way. To the back of every house and look around. I’ll go this way. I left Blanche at your house with treats in the driveway. Hurry. Don’t let her get far.”
She nodded and ran toward the next house. “Daisy!” Nothing. She ran around the back, up the other side, and into the next yard. No Daisy. No Daisy. No Daisy.
How could this be?
On the third house, she barely made it halfway to the back when a side door opened, and an older man in a robe stepped out, scowling at her. “I lost my dog,” she explained. “Have you seen a little brown and white terrier?”
“Pit bull!” he barked. “He was right here, and I called the police and the mayor. If we had a dog catcher, I’da called them, too.”
“She’s not…” Never mind. It wasn’t worth it. “How long ago and did you see which way she went?”
He pointed to the next house. “Through the back. Maybe twenty minutes.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry.” She took off, calling for Daisy again and again, her voice rising with a frantic sense of panic with each empty yard she examined. She’d lost track of Shane, of time, of anything but the need to find Daisy.
Who would do that? Who would break a lock and let a dog out?
Someone who hated her idea? The answer was so obvious, she stumbled a little at the thought, but shoved it down, needing concentration and energy to find that dog. Someone would hurt Daisy to hurt her?
“Daisy!”
She whipped around at the sound of another woman’s voice, spotting a Waterford Farm truck with the windows down, Molly in the driver seat, Darcy next to her, calling for the dog.
“Anything?” Molly called when she spotted Chloe.
Chloe shook her head. “I’m checking yards.”
“Stay on it, we’ve got this street, and Garrett’s one road over. Liam’s on his way.”
She nodded, almost too overwhelmed with gratitude to even thank them, then she heard a loud, high-pitched whistle that she knew had to have something to do with this. Was that Shane? Was Daisy hurt? Had she been hit by a car or…oh God.
Fighting tears, she ran back to the street, still checking around every tree and bush, hearing the whistle again. A truck came around the corner and honked at her, and this time she saw Liam at the wheel.
“Shane’s got her,” he called to Chloe. “Hop in.”
She almost collapsed with relief, running to the truck and yanking the door to hoist herself up. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, I just got the text that he has her.” He looked sharply at her. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“Just a little freaked out.” Blowing out a breath, she tried to pull it together. “Someone did this to her. To me. Someone broke the lock on the back gate.”
He grunted. “See? This is why I hate people.”
“Vote against the idea, for Pete’s sake,” she mumbled. “Don’t risk a dog’s life.”
Liam threw her another glance, his dark eyes a perfect reflection of the intensity that seemed to hum through him all the time.
“I mean, is it worth it?” she asked, too worked up to hold back her frustrations. “Daisy could have been hit by a car or lost forever or…” She put her face in her hands, wanting to wipe out all the possibilities. “Oh God, that poor dog.”
“Look,” Liam said, gesturing ahead. “Shane’s got her. She’s in good hands. You both are.”
She could practically taste the adrenaline that dumped through her. “Oh, she’s safe. I was so scared. So scared.”
“So was my brother.”
Even from the distance, she could see how pale Shane was. “He loves that dog,” she said.
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