“You okay?” Glory called.
Angelica glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her face. “I’m better than I was an hour ago.”
“That Brett Walker can sure work an ‘I’m sorry,’” she observed.
“Yeah.” Angelica straightened her shoulders and tugged at her sweater as if returning to work mode. “He can.”
“Do you trust it?” Glory asked. What she really wanted to know was if Angelica could trust Brett. No, if Glory could trust Kyle.
Her friend bent to retrieve the fallen items: clipboard, pen, hot dogs. She crossed the floor to put the package of food on the counter. “Winter’s on its way, but I still see sunshine. I guess I’m enjoying it while I can.”
* * *
I STILL SEE SUNSHINE. I guess I’m enjoying it while I can.
Those words played in Glory’s head as the afternoon waned. She thought she knew what Angelica meant by them. The other woman wasn’t counting on forever or fretting over change or a season that might turn hearts in a different direction. The now was good, this moment, and her friend was embracing it. Standing in the sun and accepting its benevolent rays.
While Glory was still hiding in the shadows, worrying about what-ifs.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Brett and Angelica’s embrace: the beauty of the yin and yang of it, the muscled man, the soft woman. His face as she took the first step toward him.
The beauty of that was what Glory had been denying herself.
On impulse, she picked up her phone. Kyle answered his after two short rings. “Hey,” he said. “I was just thinking of you.”
Her stomach fell toward her knees. It had to be a good omen. “I can say the same.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s good.”
“Where are you?” Suddenly, she wanted to see him. Had to see him.
“On a picnic table at Lake Arthur.”
“I love Lake Arthur!” Another omen. Surely. “Stay right there, will you?”
“I’m wherever you want me to be, Glory.”
Ending the call, she looked over at Angelica and committed family sacrilege. “We’re closing early.”
Her drive to the lake was short. Dusk was just beginning to add its purple filter to the air when she arrived at the almost-empty parking lot near the public beach. Kyle’s beat-up truck occupied one of the spaces. In the distance, she could see him sitting atop one of the picnic tables near the sand.
He’d turned his head when she pulled into the lot and he continued watching her now as she climbed from her little SUV and made her way toward him. Her heart was galloping, but her strides were more cautious.
Was she being a fool?
Then she was within an arm’s reach and could take in his handsome features, his sexily disheveled hair, the dark shadow on his jaw. They’d traded kisses the few times they’d been out, but she’d been careful then, too. Always so damn careful. Constrained in her box of caution just as she was physically bound by the walls of the hardware store.
He reached out to her, a lean hand asking for hers. Break out.
She touched just the tips of her fingers to the cup of his palm, taking in his warmth, feeling it travel through every digit toward her heart. He tugged her closer. “It’s getting colder.”
Winter’s on its way.
But she pushed that from her mind and climbed up to snuggle beside him, hip-to-hip. They both wore heavy jackets over their jeans. She had a scarf that she tied close to her throat now. Her mother had made it for her in knitting class and it featured a pattern of jumping frogs. Cute.
But Kyle was looking at her as though he saw beauty.
“Why are you here?” she asked, gesturing toward the beach and lake with her hand. It was nothing near as big as Blue Arrow Lake and was a county recreational area, not a private body of water surrounded by posh homes and estates. There was the wide sandy beach and a hiking trail all the way around. In the summer, you could rent paddle boats or rowboats or kayaks or paddleboards. During that season a massive, snaking water slide was open for the brave to make a splash.
“Appreciating,” Kyle said. “I still can’t get over all the natural wonder the mountains have to offer.”
Glory opened her mouth, closed it.
But he must have sensed something because he sent her a sharp glance. “What?”
“Well...” She cleared her throat. “I hate to break this to you, but this isn’t natural in the least. The land was owned by Samson Arthur, who put up a sawmill here to make crates for the citrus fruit he grew down the hill. When the trees were gone, he talked the federal government into damming two forks of a creek that ran through here via a WPA grant in the 1930s.”
“Oh.” Kyle appeared deflated.
“Mother Nature still had a hand in it, though. The story goes that they estimated it would take three years for the lake to fill. But that season the rains came big and they came early and it was filled in three days.”
“Must have been quite a winter storm.”
That season was hovering. Glory shivered.
“Cold, honey?” He curled his arm around her and drew her closer to his side. “Shall we go somewhere else?”
The sun still lingered, though low, in the sky. “Just a few more minutes,” she said, then rested her head on his shoulder. It felt solid. Good. Her gaze took in the quiet waters. “I used to love this place. And that slide. My favorite. I haven’t been on it in years.”
He ghosted his mouth over her hair. “Why not?”
“Summers are so busy at the store. I’m always working.”
“We’ve got to fix that,” Kyle said, jumping off the table and pulling her with him.
“What?” She tried resisting, but he was towing her toward the slide. “It’s closed, it’s cold, we...we can’t!”
He glanced down at her. “But honey, isn’t this what it’s all about? We can.”
That’s when she realized that her call had been riskier than she first thought.
* * *
THE COLD TOOK Kyle’s breath. When the water closed over his head, the shock to his system also stopped his heart. Jesus. He was too young to die. But then he remembered Glory was right behind him and he kicked, straining for the surface.
He had to stop her.
His head broke the surface and he was already yelling. “No! Don’t!” But she was whizzing down the plastic tube, an unholy grin on her face. Despite that, he hoped she was praying, because this stupid idea of his might be the death of her.
Dog-paddling to keep his muscles moving, he watched her fly off the end of the slide. At her touchdown splash, he stroked in her direction, running through all the life-saving procedures he’d absorbed from a lifetime of living in a household of doctors.
Seeing movement beneath the water, he reached down and found something of her and pulled. She emerged, sputtering, and he realized he’d fished her up with her ridiculous frog scarf. “Are you okay?” he yelled at her, as if she was deaf instead of likely frozen.
She threw her head back and let out a howl. Then she grinned at him. “H-h-hypothermia is setting in.” Her teeth began chattering.
Clearly, the cold had gotten to her brain.
Instead of stopping to investigate that fact, he urged her toward shore. “We’ll get you warmed up.” His mouth was numb, as was most of the rest of him.
They stumbled onto the shore and water sluiced from their bodies and onto the sand as he grabbed her hand and moved them as quickly as he could to his truck, stopping to grab his keys and wallet he’d left on the picnic table. At the passenger side, he stripped her out of her dripping coat and tossed it in the bed before lifting her into the seat. His jacket went the same way, then he climbed behind the wheel. The key made it into the ignition on the fifth try and he nudged the heater to the highest position.
“Okay,” he said when he could feel his tongue again. “Dumb idea.”
“Great idea!”
Startled, he glanced over. She was grinnin
g again. “Honey—”
“I feel alive,” she said, flinging out her arms. Her hand caught him in the side of the face, but he figured he deserved it—and he was too cold to feel much of the slap anyway. “Don’t you feel alive?”
He laughed, her exuberance catching. “Maybe. But more soggy and cold than anything else.”
“I never do anything wrong. We climbed over the chains that were supposed to keep people out.”
“Such a rule-breaker,” Kyle teased.
“You can’t imagine how good it feels.”
Yet he did. He fiddled with the vents so more of the heat blasted in her direction. With his undergrad degree behind him, the Scott family rules said he’d go to med school. The idea of it had felt like an anchor tied to him. He’d known he’d drown.
But when he’d partnered up with his roommate to go into business together, he’d finally felt as if his feet were on the right path.
Then he’d dropped into the work, determined to prove to his parents he could be a success on his own terms, and had become an all-work, no-play dull Jack. Not until he met Glory had he understood what he’d given up.
She was unwinding that silly scarf from around her neck. “I guess we should go,” she said, sending him a quick glance. There was something in it, something he couldn’t read in the gathering dark.
“Cold?”
“Getting warmer.”
“Let see what I can do to hurry that along.” Leaning close, he cupped her cheek and took her mouth in a kiss.
A hot kiss. They’d been sticking to public spaces before now. Meeting at local restaurants. So he’d only managed to go lip-to-lip in locations populated by people she knew. Which was virtually everyone in a thirty-mile radius.
This time he let his tongue plunge. Beneath his clammy clothes, there was suddenly so much heat he expected steam. Lifting his head, he drew in a gasp of breath. “Glory—”
“Again,” she demanded, her fingers sifting through his wet hair.
She tasted like fresh lake water and heaven. He nuzzled her throat while pulling air into his lungs and the coolness of her skin registered. “We need to get you warmer,” he said, as he felt her shiver.
But she turned her head to capture his lips again, the kiss urgent and edged with a desperation he found contagious. His hands found the sodden hem of her long-sleeved shirt and he drew it up, allowing the heat to hit her bare skin. She moaned into his mouth and then he broke from her again to drag the fabric over her head.
It was full dark now, the truck their private space that was warming by the second. He reached around for the clasp of her bra.
Her hands covered its cups as the closure released. “I’ve never done this, either. In a car, I mean.”
“Okay.” He kissed her eyebrow. Her ear. “Is it time to live a little or do you want to leave?”
“Live,” she whispered, and then her hands dropped. The bra fell to her lap and she whisked it away to her feet.
Kyle fought his own shirt and sent it flying over the back of his seat. Then her hands were on his chest and he groaned, giving himself up to her exploration. But his will only lasted so long before he had to have her naked breasts at his mercy.
He slammed up the arm of her bucket seat and leaned over the console, bending to touch her with his tongue, finding her pebbled nipple in the dark. Sucking it into his mouth, he reveled in her moan. Her skin was still cool and he warmed it by taking as much as he could into his mouth.
His hand plucked at the other hard tip and he felt the cab’s temperature rise another dozen degrees. His jeans were drying in the heat, strangling his cock in a grip that might do damage if he didn’t release it soon.
Afraid to move too quickly for her, he groaned against the flesh of her breast and lashed the nipple. Her hand dug into his shoulder—sweet pain—and going slow was impossible. Sliding his mouth across her skin, his hand went to the fastening of her jeans. Her belly hollowed out as he fumbled with the snap. She was breathing roughly and her hips lifted as he yanked on her zipper.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked, breathless.
“Do you want to?”
“Oh, God.” She groaned as he managed to insinuate two fingers beneath her panties. “I want everything.”
Vehicle sex was awkward. But Glory was a good sport, or maybe it was that he was doing a good job keeping her on the edge, dropping kisses to bare skin, caressing her as he worked at her jeans, praising her in rough whispers as she followed his instructions. Lift up, good girl. Gorgeous, move here. Give me your mouth while you hold on to this.
Then he was bare-assed on her seat and she was kneeling over him as he took the foil-wrapped condom from her and rolled it over his pulsing cock. He gritted his teeth, then took her bottom in one palm and her hip in the other and drew her lower.
Her wetness brushed his tip and he leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth. He gave it the tiniest bite and she jerked in his hold and then sank down on him. They both groaned.
He pressed his mouth to her throat.
“What is this?” she asked, wonder in her voice.
“It’s me,” he said. “It’s us.”
That last word echoed in his brain as she began to rock on him. Us...us...us. He crooned to her, more praise, and her movements sped up, taking his control with it.
“Glory,” he said, gripping her hips to slow down the rushing onslaught of pleasure. Sex wasn’t supposed to be like this. Before, it had been a function. Textbook stuff. The physical expression of the dry explanation of hormones and responses that his father had given him—complete with diagrams like something he’d draw on the paper covering of an examining room table—when he was ten.
Instead, this was more than his reaction to the female form. More than his biological response. This was about Glory, too, her small body enslaving his, her tight pussy sheathing him in an impossibly good vise. Not only did he want her to get off, he wanted her happy. He wanted her exhilarated and free, wearing that grin she’d given him after breaking all her rules and jumping into a ridiculously cold body of water.
It had taken his breath. Now she was taking it.
The little sounds she made now were aroused and almost a little anxious. He couldn’t read her expression in the dark, but he knew it was time to soothe her by sending her flying a little higher. He brought his hand to his mouth, wetting his fingers. Then they traveled down the center of her body to trace the place where they were joined. He shuddered, feeling his shaft being engulfed by the soft heat of her body.
His fingertips found the knot of nerves at the apex of her wet folds and he began stroking her there, short strokes and tight circles. She gasped, held up, and then she ground down on him. Harder. Filthier. Better than anything.
His other hand caressed her belly, then moved upward to brush her breasts, her straining nipples. He closed his eyes as she moved more quickly and he followed her lead, strumming her clit.
Her internal muscles were clamping down on him and he was dangerously close—so close—when she grabbed his free hand and brought it to her mouth. She took two fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as she ground down a final time. Rocking there, he felt the orgasm overtake her and it slammed into him, too, the release surging through muscles and sinew and blood.
Glory collapsed against him. He petted her, trying to take her down easy, even though he felt as if he’d expired in those final moments.
A definite ending.
When he returned to LA, work was never going to be enough again. No down-the-hill woman would ever be enough either, not after having this woman—Glory Hallett, mountain to her bones.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ANGELICA HAD DISCOVERED that while Brett was an early riser, he wasn’t a morning person. Not as much as she was, anyway. While she moved about his kitchen with quick steps, humming, he sat sprawled on a stool, staring at the surface of his coffee as if it was a television screen.
With a tiny shake of her head
, she swiped up the carafe and topped off his mug. As she made to move away, he shot out his hand and arrested her movement by hooking a finger in the back waistband of her jeans. “Thanks.”
“He speaks!” she exclaimed, in exaggerated surprise.
“Ha,” he said, then freed his hand to lightly smack her on the butt. “Maybe you wore me out last night.”
Rolling her eyes, she headed back to the countertop to replace the coffee on the warmer. There was no way she’d worn him out...not when it was clear he was holding back. Yes, they’d had sex and he’d been solicitous, very careful to please her. Maybe because he still worried she was damaged. Maybe because he felt guilty for their scrap—I have lousy judgment when it comes to women—but she was beginning to believe it more likely that caution was a way to keep himself separate from her.
To not allow her close to him, the real Brett Walker.
Despite being aware of the ticktock of the clock running down on her time left in the mountains, she couldn’t fight the urge to shake things up.
Shake him up.
She buttered toast for herself, aware he wouldn’t eat until his second cup of coffee was gone. Though her days didn’t usually start as early as his, this morning she was heading into the hardware store hours before opening. There was some paperwork she could accomplish for Glory, a task she hadn’t completed because they’d closed early the day before.
Glancing over, she saw Brett was still in that zone where he was half asleep and half awake. “I had a text from Shay this morning.”
He grunted.
“I’m invited to a marathon viewing of one of those wedding dress shows. Jace is out of town for a couple of days, Ryan’s going to do something manly with Mason. A girls’ night with all the trimmings—wine, cheese and crackers, a gooey dessert.”
He didn’t seem to think it was weird that she’d been asked over for something chummy with his sisters. Or maybe he was mentally still snoozing under the covers.
“Shay said I should spend the night.”
Straightening, he opened his mouth, but then he subsided again, his eyes back to their study of his coffee. “You’ll have fun.”
Can't Fight This Feeling (Cabin Fever) Page 24