“Not this rushed. They’re cutting corners.”
Dawson’s grin widened. “You worry too much. Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”
Dawson had waved from the truck when he’d been ready to go. He’d smiled at Adam again, just before everything had spun out of control, and Dawson had been engulfed in flames …
Adam couldn’t breathe. Darkness was pulsing around him, consumed by fire.
He had to be dreaming he was standing in the parking lot of Riverbend’s bar, surrounded by his brothers and Jack, facing Kyle, who waited, smug, for his answer.
Adam viewed the scene as though from somewhere beyond, watching himself stick out his hand and take Kyle’s sunburned one. “You got yourself a challenge,” he heard himself say.
Kyle clamped down on Adam’s hand, but even the familiar handshake, with each of them trying to out-grip the other, didn’t snap Adam out of his daze.
“Good, that’s settled,” Grant said, sounding relieved. “Can I go have a beer now? Kyle, you’re buying.”
“Sure,” Kyle said, finally releasing Adam. “A round for everyone, on me.”
Jack grinned and led the way, Grant and Kyle following.
Carter was the only one who didn’t relax. He watched Adam closely as usual, waiting to see what he’d do.
Adam couldn’t go tamely back into the bar, especially not with Kyle playing host. He couldn’t go home either, where his mother and Faith would ask why he was back so early, and was everything all right?
He walked away, his emotions in turmoil. He strode as fast as he could, hoping the flames and the darkness would recede if he walked swiftly enough, but they didn’t.
Carter caught up to him, gravel crunching under his boots. “Want me to drive you somewhere?” he asked.
“No.” Again Adam watched himself from afar, unable to feel himself doing anything. Reminded him of when he’d flatlined—a dead man walking.
Carter kept stride with him. “Where the hell are you going? If I lose you, Mom will kill me.”
Adam swung on him, some of the darkness receding as his anger surged. “Will you leave me the fuck alone?”
“No.” Carter remained stubbornly with him, the untamed boy he’d been now a not-quite-tamed man. “Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll get out of your face.”
Adam told him. It wasn’t far; he could make it on foot. He knew exactly where his destination was, though he’d never been there before.
Carter scowled. Indecision warred on his hard face, but finally, he nodded. “You need me, you call, all right? You got your cell phone?”
Adam gave him an irritated look. “You know, you and Grant fuss like old men. I’ll be fine.”
Carter didn’t believe him, but at least he fell silent. He watched as Adam walked away, but he didn’t follow.
Thank God Mom had chosen Carter to look out for him tonight. Grant, Tyler, or Ross would never have let Adam do what he needed to.
The small houses in an older corner of the town had been falling-down wrecks when he’d been a kid, but in the last decade or so, when people had started wanting small-town life again—though not too far from the big cities—these old houses had been bought and renovated, the area gentrified.
Number 5 was painted a dark brown-red with crisp white trim. It was a shotgun house, meaning it had a door and one window in front, with the rooms placed one behind the other with no hallways—the doors from room to room were all on the same side of the house. Shotgun because, in theory, a man could fire a gun through the front door and, if all doors in the house were open, the slug would go straight out the back door without hitting anything in between.
A little porch fronted the house, with two steps leading up to its wooden floor. A porch light was on, highlighting the screen door and the dark brown door behind it. The front window glowed with light, and Adam heard a TV going.
The roar of fire finally started to fade as he raised his hand and knocked. He saw Dawson, surrounded by flame, grinning at him again. Can’t fault your taste, Campbell.
Then he was gone, replaced by Bailey, who yanked open the front door and stared through the screen. “Adam?”
“Hey,” Adam said.
Bailey pushed open the screen door and took a step to him, her brows drawing together. She looked so good, in a tight black shirt with a little satin bow on the neckline, her hair loose, her brown eyes full of concern.
Dignity went to hell. Adam grabbed her hand and hung on. “Bailey,” he said, barely able to form the words. “For God’s sake, you’ve got to help me.”
Chapter Eleven
Bailey couldn’t quite believe that Adam sat in her living room, on the center cushion of her sofa, leaning on his knees, his head bowed. He’d staggered past her when she’d let him in, ending up on the couch, growling at her to close the door and not let anyone see him.
Bailey locked up then pulled heavy drapes over her living room window’s lace curtains. “Adam?”
He didn’t respond. He stared down at her carpet, hands dangling between his knees, not moving, not speaking. Lamplight burnished his hair, bringing out the light streaks among the darker strands.
Bailey shoved her small coffee table out of the way and sank onto the sofa next to him. She put her hand on his back and found it moving a little. Not the shaking of a man crying, but of a man shivering and unable to stop.
“You okay?” Bailey caressed Adam’s back, his muscles hard beneath her hand, and tried to look into his face. “What did you want me to help you with?”
Adam scrubbed one hand over his face, then his hair. He rubbed his hair again, over and over, until finally he sprang to his feet with a snarl.
“Everything. I need your help with everything! This is all so … Ah, damn it. Fucked to hell.”
“You mean the lawsuit?”
Adam’s hands came down to his sides, rigid in fists. His short hair was a mess, scars white on his red face, eyes glittering.
He was a man going wild and trying not to. Adam had never contained himself, rushing after whatever he wanted, doing whatever he pleased, and always coming out on top.
His world had changed, life had changed, and he didn’t know how to face it.
“Screw the lawsuit. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me, Bailey. I used to be fearless—I’d do anything. I’ve been thrown out of helicopters, crashed cars and motorcycles, jumped from galloping horses and out of windows, rappelled down buildings and climbed back up them. No matter how hurt I was, no matter how dangerous, I got up and did it again. And now …” Adam stopped, staring at her as though seeing her and seeing through her at the same time. “Shit, I don’t want you to know this.”
He swung away, heading purposefully to the front door. Bailey left the sofa and got ahead of him, putting her back against the doorframe.
“No.” She placed her hands on his chest. Adam halted, but impatiently, his look angry. “Whatever you tell me will never go beyond this room,” Bailey said. “You know that. You asked me to help you.” She flattened her palms against him, soaking in the warmth from his T-shirt. “So let me help you.”
Adam stared at her a moment longer, the anguish in his eyes fierce. Emitting another growl, he closed the space between them, crushing her between him and the door.
“Stop,” he said savagely. “Stop being so … you.”
And he kissed her.
Bailey felt the change in him as soon as their mouths met. The man furiously angry became a man aroused. Adam’s fists relaxed so his fingers could furrow her hair, and his mouth opened hers. His body softened, giving instead of taking, sharing instead of demanding.
Bailey curled her hands on his back, digging into his shirt, starting to tug it upward as he kissed her. He’d bared her on the sofa this morning; now she wanted to see him.
Adam deepened the kiss, arms going around her, lifting her against the door. He hooked one hand under her hip, drawing her leg up, making it curve around him.
Bailey hung on to him with pleasure. She pulled him closer with her calf on his thigh, the position digging his rigid hardness against her. Her bedroom was behind the door on the other side of the living room. She’d been picturing Adam in there—as much as she tried not to—since he’d come home.
Adam pushed her shirt upward from the back, making a noise of satisfaction when he found she’d already removed her bra. He released her to pull the shirt off over her head, then helped her pull off his.
Maybe the bedroom wasn’t necessary. Adam lifted her again, winding both her legs around him this time, her breasts against his bare chest.
His next kiss left her no doubt what he was going to do. No playing, no feeling her up for the fun of it. He meant to take this all the way.
Did Bailey try to fight him off? Tell him to go? Grow offended that he assumed she’d be willing?
Nope. Bailey’s heart thumped with excitement and anticipation. It had been a long time since she’d had sex—a long time—and she was out of practice. But then, Adam would know exactly what to do.
He unbuttoned and unzipped Bailey’s jeans, jerking them open as she clung to him. Warm fingers pushed them down, slid under the waistband of her panties. He unwound her legs from him and pushed her jeans and underwear from her hips. Bailey was already in her stocking feet, no worry about shoes as her jeans slid to the floor.
Now she was naked, in her socks, her back meeting the door one more time, Adam pushing her there.
“Stop me,” he said, voice harsh.
“Wha … ?”
“You’ve got to stop me.” Adam’s blue eyes were tight. “Because I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Bailey remembered Kyle’s warning about Adam and women—He takes the ones he wants, uses them, and he’s done.
Kyle meant that Adam would sate himself on Bailey, and when he felt better, he’d leave town and never see her again.
Stop me.
The fury in Adam’s eyes was surpassed only by pain, and that, by his need.
Bailey touched his lips. “Don’t talk, Adam,” she whispered. “Just make love to me.”
**
Bailey’s gentle words should have snapped some sense into Adam. Instead, they had the opposite effect. He slid his fingers over her smooth flesh and hungrily took her mouth.
The beauty of her stunned him. He hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t know romantic words. He could only stare, and touch, and savor.
Her back was firm, spine curving to her hips. The shape of her, which she hid beneath work clothes, came to him through his hands. Waist that dipped in but a little soft, thighs hard from riding. Legs supple and strong.
He learned her with his touch as he kissed her lips, moving from her seeking mouth to nip her chin, her cheek. Then back to her mouth, her kisses eager. Her eyes were half closed with the pleasure of it, Bailey holding him in perfect safety.
Adam would never float away into that bad place when he was in Bailey’s arms. She wouldn’t let him.
He took one step back, breaking the kiss. While Bailey rested her hands on his shoulders, he unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, toeing off his boots so he could slide everything down.
He lost his balance, but Bailey caught him. They toppled together to the wall between door and window, Bailey crushing the heavy drape behind her.
Something inside Adam chided him for wanting to take her standing up in the living room. He should carry her to the bed, make it nice for her. Even their first, fumbling, crazy time way back when had been on his bed, as narrow as it had been.
That day came to him with clarity—bright sunlight pouring through the windows, the bed creaking as they fell to the mattress. The noises of the horses and people working in the stables had come through the open window, and Bailey’s smile had warmed him better than the late spring sunshine. Adam had been happy at that moment—the most perfect happiness he’d ever found in his life—and he hadn’t even known it.
Bailey smiled at him now, and a taste of that happiness returned.
The sofa was small, but it would have to do. Bailey had strewn it with crocheted afghans, prickly and soft at the same time.
Adam steered Bailey to it, kissing her while he did, leading her in a slow dance. He hooked his arm around her waist and lowered her down to the sofa, coming with her. The couch was too narrow for both of them, and Adam’s knee ended up on the floor. Didn’t matter—made it easier in some ways.
Bailey was laughing when they finally came together, her leg wrapped around him, her stocking foot brushing his back. She stopped laughing when his cock nudged her opening, but her eyes warmed with welcoming.
Adam held his breath. He touched Bailey’s face, the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, and held her gaze as he slid himself inside.
**
Bailey became liquid fire as Adam filled her. He looked straight into her eyes, no turning away, no closing himself to her. He was with her, watching her.
His brows drew together as she tightened around him, and Bailey’s thoughts fluttered and floated away.
Nothing was real but Adam’s solid body on hers, his hardness inside her. He held her with steady hands, no more shaking. This was Bailey’s Adam, come home.
He started to move. Bailey let out a soft moan, unable to still it. Excitement heated her skin, as did the need to pull him into her. She drew her fingers down to his tight backside, urging him as he began to thrust.
Their position spread her to him, let him slide inside without hindrance. The warm firmness of his cock opened her, making her slick, which let him move even deeper into her.
He knew exactly how to make love to a woman on a slim sofa, how to make the awkwardness of it work. That fact should bother her, but right now, sensation poured in and erased the niggle. It didn’t matter. Now was now—the past did not exist.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Adam whispered. “You always have been. I knew.” He smiled, proud of himself.
Bailey touched his face and didn’t answer. Adam had always been the best-looking man in town, with his blue eyes, handsome face, and sinful smile. His looks were ruined now by the mesh of scars that she smoothed on his cheek. But his eyes were as blue, his smile as cocksure as ever.
His smile faded as he sped his thrusts, need taking over. Smooth and quick, he moved inside her, Bailey made wet by their heat. His breath came faster—so did Bailey’s. Sweat trickled across their bodies, melding them. Where they joined was a beautiful ache.
Bailey’s hips rose as they kept on. Crazed excitement stirred inside her, blotting out all reason, all awareness but the hard heat of Adam, the fiery wildness at the center of her body. Only that existed, and Adam’s blue eyes.
She heard the cries coming from her mouth, a few caught by Adam’s kisses, before he bunched his fist beside her, a groan in his throat.
“Aw, damn,” he said clearly, and then he was coming.
The sound of their mingled voices spun Bailey into the white-hot madness that was her peak—the two of them made whole for one bright, extraordinary moment.
Bailey wasn’t sure when the moment ended, but all was warmth as she crashed back to earth, and the living room sofa, Adam on top of her.
His arms held her safely, his kisses, slow with afterglow, her anchor in the swirling world.
**
A long time later, the street outside quieted, the only noise coming from crickets in Bailey’s yard. Adam made himself open his eyes and raise his head from the cushion of Bailey’s chest. She was awake, and greeted him with a faint smile.
Something broke in his heart. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. Adam wanted to say her name, but ended up kissing her instead.
He eased back from the kiss and simply enjoyed looking at her. One lock of her sun-kissed brown hair spilled across her forehead. Her lashes were touched with moisture, as though her dark eyes had filled with tears—Bailey’s eyes, which Adam had never been able to forget.
He opened his mouth, thinking he sh
ould say something, but Bailey touched his lips. “If you’re going to tell me we shouldn’t have done this, don’t,” she said. “Yes, we should have.”
“I don’t regret it.” Adam didn’t, though he knew he’d let go of his control, and had not tried very hard to stop it.
“You’d better not.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’ve done stupid things in my life, but this isn’t one of them.”
Bailey stroked his hair, a nice feeling. Relaxing. Taking all the hurt away.
Any second now, she was going to ask him why he’d pounded on her door begging for her help. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. And yet, the only one he could talk to these days—about anything—was Bailey.
She didn’t ask, however, as though she realized he needed time. Only she would understand that.
Adam closed his eyes, content to stay in this warm cocoon with her. The real world moved on outside, but here, in their haven, nothing could touch them.
A phone rang. Bailey groaned, putting a hand to her head. “Figures.”
“Don’t get it,” Adam said. He lay heavily on top of her, not letting her move. His knee was cramped and rug-burned, but so what?
Bailey started to wriggle out from under him. “If it’s my sister, and I don’t answer, she’ll come over to find out what’s wrong.”
Adam let out a breath and raised his head. “Families. You gotta love ’em, but at the same time they drive you bat-shit crazy.”
Bailey kept squirming, her breasts crushing against his chest, nipples an erotic touch on his skin.
Adam at last let her up. He missed her warmth the second it was gone, but watching her hurry across the room, stark naked, to grab her phone, wasn’t bad either.
Bailey dug her cell phone out from under her discarded jeans and answered it. “Christina?” Her expression, which had shown her ready to tell her sister to politely go away, changed abruptly. “What? Slow down. Are you all right? Just tell me what happened.”
Chapter Twelve
Adam watched Bailey’s gaze become fixed on nothing, her brow wrinkling as she listened to her sister’s rapid words that Adam couldn’t hear.
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