“Not that there’s anything wrong with a booty call,” she blurted, her gaze colliding with his. It was bad enough that she’d fallen into a one-sided relationship. But to have Rayne realize exactly how she’d felt about him? No, thank you. “They’re one of my specialties.”
His gaze narrowed for a split second and if she hadn’t known better she might have thought the idea bothered him.
But, of course, she knew better.
Her chest tightened and she pasted on her sexiest smile. “You’re looking good.” Her gaze narrowed just a hint in typical Juicy Lucy fashion and she licked her lips. “Good enough to eat.”
Displeasure flickered in his eyes. “Careful, sugar.” He stepped toward her, and instinctively she took a step back. “I might actually think you’re glad to see me.”
“You and every other guy inside,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
He took another step and she matched him, backing up as he advanced until she came up against the building.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He stopped just shy of pressing his body against hers. “A nice, big steaming pile.”
She tilted her head back and stared up at him. “What makes you so sure?”
Because I can see inside you.
That was what his gaze said, but she knew she was just imagining something more than what was really there.
Love.
That was why she’d broken up with him and let him go. Because she’d loved him. Even though she’d known that leaving was the best thing for him, she’d secretly hoped that he would stay in Skull Creek. It had been crazy. Selfish. Logically she’d known that West Point was his ticket out of a small town, away from the abuse he’d endured for so long. At the same time, she couldn’t help but want him to stay. She’d loved him desperately.
But he hadn’t returned the feeling.
She’d thought so at the time. She’d imagined it all—the emotional connection, the deeper intimacy, the happily-ever-after waiting on the horizon for them—just as she was imagining the strange current flowing between them right now.
“I really need to get back to work.” She started to push him away, but he leaned into her, planting his arms on opposite sides of her, his palms flat against the building.
He stared at her, an intense look in his eyes, as if he’d just figured out the last piece of a puzzle. “You are glad to see me,” he said as if the news surprised him.
Heat pulsed along her nerve endings and denial rushed to her lips. “I am not.”
Satisfaction tugged his lips into a huge smile. “Oh, yes, you are.”
“Says you.”
The smile faded into pure intent. “No, darlin’.” He leaned down. His lips grazed her ear and the air stalled in her lungs. “Says you. I can see it right here.” His gaze caught hers and he touched her trembling bottom lip. “And here.” Fingertips grazed the throbbing tip of one breast. “And here” He trailed his thumb over her crotch. Her vagina clenched in response.
Electricity zapped her. Hot. Bold. Decadent. Her skin flushed and her nerves started to tingle.
She’d never felt so turned on by a man. So desperate.
Except with him.
Only him.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she blurted. She ducked under his arm and started for the back door as fast as her legs could carry her.
Her days of one-night stands were over. Contrary to popular opinion, she’d been celibate for over a year. Since the day her younger sister had dropped the bomb that she was getting married.
The news hadn’t come as a surprise, but it had been a wake-up call. Seeing Miranda so blissfully happy with her fiancé, rodeo star Cody Boyd, had forced Lucy to take a long, hard look at her own life, or lack of one.
At twenty-nine, Lucy had been stuck in perpetual party mode. No real relationships. No stability. No ambition. Not even a pet. Just a long list of excuses for not making something of herself—she didn’t have enough money, she didn’t have enough education, she didn’t get any respect. The reasons had been plenty, and so had the endless string of sixty-minute men. Sex had been the one thing she’d been good at. The one thing that had fed her ego. And so she’d indulged often.
Meanwhile, her younger sister had not only crawled out from under their mother’s bad-girl shadow, she’d also worked her way out of the Happy Snappy Trailer Park. She’d put herself through college, landed a good job, bought a nice house and met a great guy. Miranda had managed to do something with her life, despite the odds stacked against her.
Which meant Lucy had a shot, too.
She wanted more out of life. A college degree. A better job. A man who would stick around longer than a few hours. One who wouldn’t walk away the morning after and never look back.
Rayne had already taken himself out of that category a long, long time ago, which meant no kissing, no touching, no anything.
She picked up her steps and headed for the door.
SHE’D LOVED HIM.
The truth echoed in Rayne’s head as he watched her walk away. A rush of joy went through him, followed by a tidal wave of anger. All these years he’d thought she didn’t give a shit about him, that she’d used him, when all along she’d loved him.
His chest went tight and his gut hollowed out. The past pulled him back and, just like that, he was eighteen years old, watching her turn her back, feeling the heartbreak and the frustration because she didn’t want him anymore.
Only this time was different.
This time he could stop her.
He caught up to her in the blink of an eye and slid in front of her, effectively blocking her exit.
She walked straight into him and came up short. Her head snapped back and her eyes widened. “How did you—”
“Stay,” he told her, capturing her stare and refusing to let go.
She froze, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something else, but the words wouldn’t come.
She wanted to think. To turn and run, but she couldn’t. His mind overpowered hers, pulling her in, willing her to relax.
To give in.
To offer herself.
He had a vivid image of her spread across a blanket in the bed of his old truck, her long legs wrapped around his waist, her wet heat sucking at his cock and holding on tight.
But the memory paled in comparison to the real thing. Warmth radiated from her lush body. His nostrils flared with the sweet, decadent scent of fresh cinnamon rolls dripping with icing.
They’d always been his favorite dessert because they’d reminded him of his grandmother. She’d made them every Sunday morning when he’d been a kid. But then she’d passed away the year he’d turned five, his father had started to drink and his mother had started to run around, and his life had gone to hell in a handbasket.
He’d never mentioned Maw Maw Ruth to anyone until he’d met Lucy. She’d listened to his stories and she’d understood his pain because she’d had so few happy memories of her own.
The day he’d heard the verdict from West Point, Lucy had met him in the barn with a basket full of cinnamon goodies and a gallon of milk to celebrate. They’d eaten every one. And then he’d licked frosting off her fingers and her breasts and every place else, and they’d had a real celebration.
The memory of her and the cinnamon rolls and the pure joy he’d felt at that moment had haunted him ever since. No matter where he’d gone or what sort of hellhole he’d found himself in, she’d been there, too.
In his head.
His heart.
She’d been there outside Kabul the night he’d been turned, too.
His only distraction from the fear.
The pain.
The death.
His gut twisted and hunger gnawed at him. “Kiss me,” he commanded, his voice deep and compelling.
Just like that the confusion faded from her expression and desire fired her eyes a deep, sapphire blue. Her lips parted. Her nipples pebbled, pushing against the thin cotton of her t
ank top. She slid her silky arms around his neck and her mouth touched his.
3
THIS WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA.
Despite the hunger, Rayne knew that. But then Lucy pressed herself flush against him. Her pelvis cradled his and her breasts flattened against his chest. And just like that what was left of his conscience faded.
He wanted her.
He needed her.
And she was more than happy to oblige.
She kissed him, her mouth eating at his, her tongue plunging and stroking. Her moment of denial had fled and in its place was full-blown, uncontrollable lust. He could feel the emotion boiling inside her and smell the ripe promise of sweet, energizing sex.
His gut twisted and the beast stirred, and he couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. He took her in his arms and hauled her close, grinding his hips against hers with a desperation that made her gasp.
The sound bubbled against his lips, a soft vibration that stoked the fire that blazed inside him and upped his body temperature. He’d been so cold lately. So lonely. While he’d kept company with plenty of females over the past few weeks, this was different.
This was her.
The woman he’d loved. The woman who’d loved him.
He deepened the kiss, drinking in the taste of her, consuming her with a raw intensity that left her panting when he finally broke the connection.
She stared up at him, her lips swollen and slick, and his chest hitched. His muscles tightened and his mouth went dry. His fangs tingled.
“Touch me,” he finally murmured when she simply stared up at him, waiting for the next command.
Her hands slid from around his neck, down his chest. When her fingertips fluttered over his groin, his heart jammed into his throat.
She tugged at the button with an expertise that told him she’d undressed many men in all the years they’d been apart. Jealousy sliced through him, sharp and painful. Not that he’d expected her to remain celibate. She was a young, healthy, desirable woman and there was no reason she should have denied herself. Especially when she’d felt that he’d turned his back on her.
At the same time, the notion of her with someone else—anyone else—fed that deep, dark part of him and urged him to toss her over his shoulder and take her far, far away where no other man could touch her.
The zipper hissed and his jeans sagged. He sprang hot and huge into her silky hands, and the irrational emotion faded in a wave of pure, drenching pleasure.
“More,” he murmured after several heartbeats when she didn’t do anything other than hold him and drive him mindless with anticipation.
Dutifully her fingertips played up the underside of his erection and back down. She furrowed a path through the crisp, dark hair that curled around the base of his shaft before tracing a vein back to the ripe purple head. She cupped him again, massaging and teasing.
A drop of pearly white liquid seeped from the tip of his penis and dropped onto the inside of her wrist. Her lips parted at the sensation and his attention shifted back to her mouth. She had the fullest lips. So slick and luscious and—
“Taste me,” he commanded.
Her tongue darted out and she licked her lips before dropping to her knees to carry out the command. Her soft, silky hair brushed the tops of his thighs and her warm cheek caressed his scrotum. Warm wetness closed around him and drew him in, and the world seemed to stop.
All sound faded except the frantic beat of her heart which echoed in his ears as loudly as if it were his own. For a few precious moments, he actually forgot that he couldn’t feel his own heart beat any longer. That the man he’d once been was long gone and in its place was something he still couldn’t comprehend. Something that scared the crap out of him.
The steady thump, thump, thump grew louder. More frenzied. The taste of her excitement lingered on his tongue. His nostrils flared with the ripe scent of hot passion and raw sex and sweet, luscious cinnamon.
He feasted on the picture she made, her red lips fastened around him, her eyes closed, her long, silky blond hair framing her heart-shaped face.
The feel of her, hot and greedy as she sucked at him, stirred the beast until he felt his own insides tighten and twist. His hands tingled and he clasped her shoulders.
The sexual energy sizzled into his fingertips and up his arms, funneling into the greedy whirlwind that whipped inside him, feeding it. Warmth rushed through him and he relished the sensation.
But it wasn’t enough.
He needed to be inside her. To feel her explode around him. Then he would stop feeling so cold. So alone. So friggin’ hungry.
She could take away the pain and make him forget.
If she wanted to.
She didn’t.
The truth wiggled past the lust beating at his brain and snatched him back to reality. To the fact that she was on her knees, ready and willing to carry out every command. But only because she had no choice. No free will.
So? a voice whispered. Take her anyway.
But he couldn’t. No matter what a monster he’d become, he wasn’t that greedy or heartless.
Not yet.
He ignored the truth that whispered in his ear and hauled her to her feet. He wanted her the way she’d been in the past. Wild and uncontrollable in his arms. A slave to her own passion rather than his.
Kissing her, he indulged for one fast, furious moment before he forced himself away.
One fang grazed the fullness of her bottom lip. A drop of blood beaded and slid from the corner of the prick point. He caught the sweet heat and touched it to his tongue. Ecstasy rushed through him, followed by a gripping need that made his entire body shake violently.
He stared deep into her eyes and forced his will on her. He could make her forget the past few minutes while he pressed his will on her. Thankfully. “You won’t remember this,” he managed, his teeth clenched. “Just the talking.” Every muscle in his body stretched to the breaking point as he moved aside to let her open the door to the bar. “Go. Now.”
She quickly obeyed.
The hinges creaked, the door slammed shut and she disappeared inside.
Thankfully.
A shudder ripped through him and his hands trembled. His vision shifted, the colors swirling until he stared through a vivid crimson haze. The urge to rush back inside, pin her up against the wall and take what he so desperately needed gripped him for a long, painful moment before he managed to turn and put one foot in front of the other.
And then he did what he should have done the moment he saw Lucy Rivers for the first time in fourteen years—he climbed into his pickup, gunned the engine and hauled ass in the opposite direction.
WHAT THE HELL HAD just happened?
The question echoed in Lucy’s head as she walked in the ladies’ restroom and tried to shake the crazy feeling that she’d just done the unthinkable.
She’d talked to him.
That was it.
Sure, he’d proceeded to get a little too close with his inappropriate touching, but she’d put an end to it by walking back inside.
She hadn’t touched him. Or kissed him. Or did half the things she’d wanted to do.
She’d walked away from him.
So why did it feel as if she’d done so much more?
Her lips tingled. Her cheeks felt hot. A rich, potent taste that was a far cry from the iced tea she’d had earlier lingered on her tongue.
Her attention went to her reflection. She noted her pink cheeks and the faint smudge of lipstick near the corner of her mouth.
At least she thought it was lipstick.
She leaned in and touched the dark red splotch. A quick swipe and she stared at the stain on her finger. Wait a second. Was that blood?
Her gaze shifted back to the mirror and fixated on the small nick on her bottom lip. A strange image hit her and she saw Rayne reach out, his fingertip brushing her mouth before touching his own lips. His eyes fired a brilliant purple and he sighed in ectasy—
&
nbsp; Crazy.
She’d bitten her lip in her haste to get away from him. That was it. Even more, he had blue eyes. Not purple. Blue.
Her hands trembled as she flipped on the faucet. The cold water rushed over her fingers and she splashed the refreshing liquid onto her face.
Nothing had happened between them, she told herself. And nothing would happen between them because she was now on the wagon when it came to temporary men.
Even one who made her tummy quiver.
She grasped at the thought and reached for a paper towel. She was just drying her face when the door swung inward and Becky Bartlett walked in.
“There you are,” declared the waitress.
The petite brunette wore the usual Horseshoe attire—white tank and white shorts, a red bandana tied around her neck and an exasperated expression on her face.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Becky rushed on. “Jake Culpepper and his buddies want cosmos and I can’t make anything more complicated than a Jack and Coke. You have to get your butt behind the bar right now.”
“Cosmos?” Lucy tossed the paper towel and followed Becky out. “Are you serious?”
“They’ve given up beer completely.” She rounded the corner and pushed through the doorway leading behind the bar. “That was the deal if they wanted to get out of the house. Their wives want them to be more understanding. According to some stupid seminar the wives are taking, that means role-playing. The men are stuck drinking cosmos and appletinis while the wives guzzle Bud Lite during Bunko.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Becky shrugged and reached for the martini glasses. “That’s the SCANCs.”
The SCANCs, short for Skull Creek Association of Newlywed Couples, were a group of brand-new wives eager to make their marriages successful. They attended weekly seminars on how to argue more effectively and how to get their men to mow the grass on command.
The husbands, desperate to appease their new brides, went along with most of the rules, whether it meant sucking down froufrou cocktails on poker night or eating salads instead of chili cheese fries. Zeke, the owner of the Horseshoe, had even added a light menu to the bar’s staple of burgers and chicken fried steak sandwiches to appeal to all the SCANC husbands. Now the bar served up everything from fresh fruit plates to vegetables with yogurt dip.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume IV Page 2