Smolder Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 6)

by Toby Neal

  “I need you more than food,” she whispers.

  I groan. “Lucy. You’re insane. You’re wounded and you want to—have sex?”

  “Yes. Please. If we’re gonna die, I want to be with the man I love at least once.” She’s so direct, this girl I adore. She works me through the soft leather breeches until my eyes roll back. “You feel so good.”

  “That’s my line,” I whisper. “Ah, God.” I shake my head. “Stop, or this is going to be over before it starts.”

  She stills, but doesn’t take her hand away, and it’s my turn to slide my fingers over her luscious body, so petite, so feminine. My Lucy is a little fertility goddess, all curves and dips and tight silky hollows. She moans as I stroke her, fully clothed.

  I want her naked.

  “I think you need a sponge bath. After all you’ve been through.”

  I help her remove her clothing, and she makes me take off mine.

  The crude bath using the clay basin makes us both smile and she even laughs a little, teasing me—but we can’t stop kissing as we take turns with the cloth. Her face is so close, her scent rising up in the wet heat between us. The bruising that traces across her skin like storm clouds across a field is evidence of her power, her courage, her incredible strength; my girl can giggle and wince in one movement…all while kissing me.

  She isn’t allowing me time to muster the willpower to pull away. It breaks my heart into a million shards of glass, all glinting in her starlight, to know what she’s doing: but, whatever happens next, we’ll at least have tonight. We’ve earned it. We need it.

  I push her back on the pallet. Her eyes are molten, slumberous and unforgettable, the image of her face burnt onto all those fragments inside me. I kiss and tongue my way down the hourglass of her body, laving and caressing every injury with tender touches, making her toss and moan—and finally I’ve got my mouth on her, making her lose her mind, giving her space to forget. Offering her freedom.

  Every minute of her passionate response, every quiver and clench of her climax brings me closer to the stars. And yeah…strawberries.

  When the aftershocks have settled, she opens her eyes. “I want you in me. Get up here.”

  “We…don’t have any condoms.” My last gasp of resistance. I don’t want her to regret this.

  “Roan, it’s the freakin’ apocalypse! We could be dead in an hour!” She grabs me by the braid, pulling me up her body. And it’s not gentle.

  Hard and soft. Dark and light. Lucy and Roan.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucy

  The knowing is so intense when Roan is touching me. He’s velvety darkness with pinpricks of brilliant light—a clear night bursting with stars. I sense every feeling surging through him and it mirrors mine. We are making love on two planes: the physical and the spiritual, and it’s so profound it defies logic or description.

  I’ve got Roan on his back, right where I want him, where I’ve wanted him just about forever. I’m still a little shaky, but not from injury—from that mind-bending climax he just gave me. I kiss and play with his nipples, torturing him like he did me.

  I lean up to kiss him, the sting of my broken lip drowned in the gentle caress of Roan’s mouth. He fills his hands with my breasts, his gray eyes darkening as he thumbs my nipples. His hands are full of me as our mouths taste and tease and tussle.

  He breaks the kiss to explore my neck and I drop my head back, giving him better access—a deer to his wolf.

  “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” he mutters against my skin. “God, you taste so good.”

  “Roan.” His name is a prayer: explore me, get to know me, love me. But he already does. As I’ve always suspected, Roan Winters is head over heels in love with me.

  That love is at the throbbing center of his being, the black hole of his interior galaxy. He’s finally admitting it to himself. But shame, rage, and despair cocoon that love, keep it suppressed, locked down, hidden, and denied.

  How can I free him, break through to him?

  This. Only this will do it.

  As he draws my nipple into his mouth, pleasure shoots through me and I cry out. His need is so intense that it heats me from the inside, and as I rub myself against his powerful thigh, I feel another orgasm tightening around my core. Unbelievable, considering how mind-blowing the first one was, but here it is, spiraling up my center. I want him to come with me, for us to explode together, for him to be deep inside when it goes.

  He feels it too, but suddenly pulls back, trying to withdraw.

  He’s afraid! He knows that when we do this, it’s not some one-night stand, it’s a line that once crossed will be forever in the sand—a stream that wears down rock until it creates a canyon, love the river running through it.

  True, we might die tomorrow, and hell, we might die tonight.

  But Roan is still afraid of hurting me, afraid that he’ll let me down, that he won’t be good enough to be my lover, my partner, my everything. Tears sting my eyes at the knowledge. There is no one better.

  “Roan.” I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. He turns away, kissing the bandages on my left palm before I gently bring his eyes back to me. “I love you, Roan.”

  He blinks and tries to turn away but I don’t let him. The emotion is so big inside me, my body can’t contain it. Love is pouring through my skin, it’s filling this cabin, and it’s spreading out to the world around us. The love is bigger than me or him. It is destiny, unity, life itself.

  “Take me. I am yours. And you are mine.”

  He shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge his ownership of me. “Lucy…” His voice is a rasp. “I’m…I’m broken.” His eyes glint black-blue, like a storm cloud or a deep bruise: the warning of something ahead, filled with the pain of something lost.

  “You are not broken. I know you’re not. And I know that you love me.”

  His eyes gleam wet and I kiss him. I kiss him so that he can feel the love that I feel, know what I know.

  Roan groans in surrender as I slip my legs around his hips, taking him deep into me, straddling him on the wooden pallet.

  “Oh, Roan. Roan!” I cry out as extreme pleasure zips up and down my spine. He stretches and fills me, forcing out all the hate and anger, infusing me with love. His fingers dig into my ass, spreading and kneading as I cling to him, my muscles quivering. He keeps me there for a moment, our pelvises aligned. Roan is sheathed inside me and I’m on fire!

  Everything is shimmering, vibrating colors all around me as we keep kissing, that wordless conversation, our bodies telling our truth.

  He lifts me and I moan as the slight movement sends shock waves of pleasure through me—already I’m coming. I’m out of control. Out of my body. Out of my mind.

  Roan lifts my hips to ride him. My good hand fists his hair and our lips never leave each other, our tongues never daring to part. But then I need to breathe, and arching up I gasp, his name bursting from my lips as another orgasm explodes, surprising me with its ferocity. I toss and cry, his hands holding me through it, the silky steel of him a pole I dance upon. So good, so right, so perfect, so totally necessary.

  He rolls us over so I’m on my back. His hand caresses my forehead gently, pushing a strand of hair away. He goes to pull out, but I wrap him with my legs, holding him in place.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Roan Winters.” He’s afraid again: scared to be happy, to be loved, to let himself go and feel his own pleasure and fulfillment. “You can lie to yourself about what this is, but you can’t fool me. And you can’t leave until you’ve come.”

  I grab his hair and pull with my legs, moving him deeper into me. He takes over with a low growl, clenching me close and so hard I gasp with the force, loving it as his rhythm picks up: sensual, instinctive, elemental.

  Roan claims me with each thrust, he owns me with each thrust, and with each thrust he’s mine.

  I’m going again, falling over that edge, and this time the drop is even steeper, the high even h
igher as pleasure blows out of me, lighting up the night. I’m coming apart, and he’s right there with me. There’s nothing in this world or the next but intense light, color, sound, and sensation.

  Roan collapses over me and his weight is welcome and cherished. My name is a whisper on his lips. I run my good fingers through his hair, trace the elegant line of his spine, grip the hard globe of his ass.

  Roan Winters chuckles into my neck, squeezing me close. “Lucy. Lucy, Lucy.” He’s happy. Joyful. Because of me. Because of our love.

  I did it! I broke through that wall around his heart! Joy washes over me, too. My eyes slip closed and my body relaxes into the hard pallet, spent and content.

  Roan rolls away and I hear the splash of the rag in the basin of water. He cleans us up and I just lie there, luxuriating in pleasure, happiness, and his love. He spoons me and draws me close in his arms, the blanket warm over us. The throb of pain from my hand is a distant echo compared to my body’s deep satisfaction. I drift off into sleep knowing I’m safe, and I’m right where I belong.

  The sound of chopping wood wakes me. Sunlight glows in the bare windows. I blink several times as sensation slowly returns to my body: throbbing pain in my left hand, sore bruises on my face, satisfied ache between my legs.

  I stretch like a cat who just enjoyed her bowl of milk, then get up and look out the window to see Roan, shirtless, chopping wood.

  Hot damn.

  Roan’s skin gleams, a shade somewhere between nutmeg and delicious. The ripple of his muscles flexing as he raises the axe over his head is practically pornographic. He brings the blade down in an elegant arc, slamming into a piece of wood that splits apart from the impact.

  I have a sense of what that wood is going through. And it’s awesome.

  Wrapping the blanket around myself to ward off the cool morning air, I open the door and step out onto the creaking porch.

  Roan looks up at me and I smile. He returns his gaze to the wood and addresses the kindling he’s picking up. “We should get going. Your family will be worried.”

  His voice is cold and hard. The tone feels like he’s punched me right in the stomach, and I suck in a breath at the pain. “Good morning to you, too.”

  He sets another log up on the stump, lifts the axe, and slams it down like the period at the end of a sentence.

  “That’s all you have to say to me?” I manage to keep my voice calm and steady but it’s edged with tears. “After last night?”

  A burst of anger rolls off of Roan, but his rage isn’t at me. He’s filled with self-loathing.

  I walk down the steps, planning to pet him and tease him back to bed, but he jerks away, like I’m dangerous—a wolf to his deer.

  “Go get dressed. We need to get moving.”

  I ignore his words and drop the blanket, standing in front of him totally nude. His eyes widen and I can feel his body surge with desire, mirroring my own.

  “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.” He pulls his eyes off me and stares at the ax, letting out a long sigh. “Lucy, you just need to understand that I’m not the man for you. What happened last night was because I couldn’t help myself. You’re beautiful, and I wanted you. You wanted me. And we’d been through a lot, and both of us needed the release of sex. But that’s all it was. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

  So many words from him, all at once! And they sound rehearsed, as if he practiced them while I lay sleeping in post-orgasmic bliss.

  I take a step forward and he turns his back to me, trying to hide his reaction…but I’m not blind. All pain from my injuries forgotten, I concentrate on bringing him back to that place of love and happiness, bringing him out of the darkness and into the light. I touch his bare shoulder, and he flinches, stumbling away from me.

  “Don’t touch me. Please.” It sounds like he’s begging. I freeze because he’s in pain. Horrible, wrenching pain.

  My throat closes from the cruelty. He’s dumping me, again!

  I can’t believe this is happening, when it’s so stupid and hurts us both so much. I wish I could hide in anger like I did when he sent me home from his cabin, but I can’t. I can feel the depth of his suffering. He truly believes he’s doing the best thing for me.

  “I’ll go get dressed.” I manage to say. He nods, relief washing through him.

  I pick up the blanket and run into the cabin. Dressing quickly in the dirty, stained clothing from my days of captivity, I go outside to where Roan is stacking the wood on the porch. “We have to leave things as we found them. For others who might come,” he says.

  Always so thoughtful and conscientious—of others, but not himself, or me.

  We might be able to leave this place as it was, but that doesn’t work with people. There is no going back from what we did last night.

  Every moment of the ride to the Haven is excruciating.

  I sit in the front of the saddle with Roan behind me, my ass at his crotch, my back pressed to his chest.

  He’s hard as stone, desperate for me. I feel the ridge of his desire prodding my butt, the tension of his arms around me almost quivering with need. But he’s growing colder and more distant with every step Sweetie takes. When we reach the back entrance of the Haven he leaps off the mare and hauls me down, pulling me towards the door roughly, letting his cold rage take control.

  “Hey!” I yell, ripping free from his grasp. Roan turns back to me, gray eyes wild, frantic to be rid of me. “I get that you’re afraid of what happened last night.” He sucks in a breath. “But that’s no reason to be mean.”

  “I don’t want to be in a relationship—with you, or anyone. I’m not cut out for it.” He won’t look me in the eye. His jaw is ticking with tension.

  “You’re trying to hurt me because you’re hurting.”

  “You know nothing about me,” He says through clenched teeth. “You’ll never know anything about me.”

  My temper rises to meet his.

  “Actually, Roan, I know you quite well.” He doesn’t look at me or try to deny it. Tears tighten my throat but that protective anger spurs me on. “I know that you love me. But you won’t let yourself, and you won’t let me love you back.” He still won’t look at me and it just makes me angrier. I want to affect him! I stomp my foot, a pathetic non-noise muffled by the pine needles. “You’re a chickenshit, and that’s why you’re all alone.” My voice has risen so that I’m yelling at him. “Maybe that’s why your parents didn’t want you—because you pushed them away and never let anyone love you! You’re a coward, Roan Winters!”

  Roan just keeps his eyes down. The cold blue of his emotions pulse, a deep amber center warming inside him. He’s satisfied that I finally struck back with a low blow and tried to hurt him. It makes him feel better!

  I can’t win. Nothing I say or do can sway him.

  My tears are hot and impossible to contain, spilling down my cheeks, but I swallow my sobs, refusing to let them out. He takes my arm and walks me over to the back entrance, enters the code, opens the door and pushes me through. I stand on the other side, staring at him, my eyes overflowing.

  He finally meets my gaze as the door swings shut between us, and his eyes are dead black. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

  The door clicks into place and I stare at the steel, my vision blurred with tears, my head pounding and my mind filled with a silent scream. He’s leaving, and he’s not coming back.

  Roan Winters just shut the door on me and took my heart with him wherever the hell he’s going, and I’ll never see him again. I drop to my knees, curling up into a ball, and give in to my agony.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Roan

  It takes every fiber of strength I have to close out the shocked, wounded expression on Lucy’s swollen face.

  My movement is pure will as I turn and mount Sweetie. Shadow does not follow. He sits at the door and yips to get my attention, and when he has it, he scratches the door and whines, looking at me meaningfully.

  Lucy�
��s on the other side of it, crying.

  I know she is.

  I’ve always known what she’s feeling.

  I want to vomit from the pain, but this is how it has to be.

  I snap my fingers, willing the wolf to follow, but he doesn’t. Shadow lies down and rests his nose between his paws, refusing to look at me.

  This is a journey I have to take alone, anyway.

  I lead Sweetie around to the main gate and when it trundles aside I dismount, taking my pack with me, and the mare trots through. I don’t wait for the gate to close. I ignore JT’s voice coming through the speaker asking what the hell I’m doing. Instead, I break into a run, sprinting for the trees.

  I’m heartsick and sore, cold and empty. Fixing up the cabin gave me a sense of a future, a way I thought I could live in community with the Lucianos and keep my soul apart.

  But there was no way to do that. The price tag for the Lucianos’ love is too high for someone as bankrupt as me.

  My mind can’t bear to touch on Lucy for even a second. She’s a white-hot coal, consuming me from the inside, agonizing and burning.

  I have to find a way to rip that coal out and quench its flame.

  The weight of the pack on my shoulders grounds me. The familiar burdens of my hatchet, and pistols in their holsters along with the rifle in my hand remind me of who I am, and how I operate in the world. Alone and deadly.

  “You’re a coward, Roan Winters.” Lucy’s voice stabs me like a hot needle and I flinch at the memory.

  Yeah. I’m a coward, not the right man for Lucy: a woman who drinks love like water, who pours love like rain—but I’m a desert, unable to give anything back.

  The forest has always brought me comfort and a sense of belonging. There’s no time but the movement of the sun and the weather through the trees. No plan. Just a path I’ll make myself, and follow until I can’t anymore.