It wasn’t her intention to let him see her like this. That’s why she’d come back here—that and to get the other clip for her Smith & Wesson. Embarrassed, she immediately turned her back to him, pressing her palms against her eyes to dam the geyser emotion kept trying to push to the surface. To her dismay, Gray wasn’t thwarted by the move.
Settling on the bed behind her, he swept her onto his lap. “Don’t turn away. Let me hold you.”
“I’m okay.”
Nevertheless, she hid her face in the hollow of his shoulder for fear that he would see what a joke that was. All the while, she repeated those two words over and over in her mind. They were a litany she needed to repress the images of the day, and the finality of her future, assured now by the town’s rejection. Rejection might not always be personal, but when you knew of the injustice in it, it stung without discrimination like a razor across the heart.
“You’re better than okay. You’re beautiful and brave, and I can’t stand watching this, seeing you get hurt over and over.”
She could do without him admitting deeper feelings. This all would have been easier if she’d never been introduced to the tender side he repressed, self-medicated and otherwise tried to eradicate to punish himself. She had no use for it now, no use for anything since her future held nothing, certainly no chance to wake in his arms to a day without threat.
Yet, despite that internal conflict, when he pressed his lips against her neck, she arched into the caress, and when those caresses streamed down her throat into the V of her shirt, she wrapped her arms around him with the avidity of one parched and starving.
She didn’t know or care which of them pulled open the snaps of her shirt, just that it happened. She craved the hot night air and his hotter, humid mouth on her breasts, his strong fingers mastering the clasp of her bra…craved to fit a lifetime of sensation into this waning ember of her life. In no other context could this make sense, but nothing else that had happened did, either.
When he cupped her in his hands, she pressed herself into his mouth. As the fire within spread, she straddled his thighs.
Although his hands continued to caress, Gray spoke with doubt. “I didn’t intend…”
No, he would desire but resist. Mr. Sacrifice. Saint Gray. For once Elias had it right. But she couldn’t go on without this moment to sustain her.
“Kiss me again.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. Sinking his hands into her hair, he locked his mouth to hers. There was no time for flirting, no time for modesty. Passion ruled. Their kiss was bold and greedy, and with each stroke of their tongues, their hands gripped harder, grew more frantic. Sasha couldn’t keep any part of her still and rocked against him, pressed her breasts against his chest. When that wasn’t enough, she tugged at his T-shirt so that they could at least touch flesh to flesh.
It just made it worse, the soft mat of his hair teasing her sensitive nipples, her lushness against his hardness. Gray groaned and lay back on the bed, taking her with him.
“God, I want,” he breathed between kisses. “I want this more than I want air.”
Sasha loved the words. They melted her from the inside out, even as his touch did the opposite. But she couldn’t answer in kind. She didn’t trust her own voice. So she showed him.
Me, too, as she ran her teeth and tongue along his neck until he shuddered. I want you, when she did to his nipples what he’d done to hers.
But being able to touch and not have was as much torment as pleasure. And so, breathless, she sat up.
She waited for him to meet her gaze.
The veins in his temple and neck throbbed, but when she unfastened the snap on his jeans, he sat up, too, and did the rest. At her first stroke, as she held him hot and hard in her hand, he urged her to her knees to slip down her jeans and panties.
“You have to let me get something,” he said, bending to nuzzle the dark curls he’d just caressed.
“No. I’ve never been with anyone this way…just the two of us. Just…us.”
Realizing what a revealing remark it was on so many levels, she resolved the issue herself by taking him inside her all at once. As ready as she was, it was too much, too fast. Her gasp had Gray attempting to ease her off him, but she tightened her arms as well as her inner muscles.
Losing control, Gray groaned and crushed her to his pounding heart. “Forgive me. I can’t let you go.”
“Don’t.”
His hands were unsteady as they stroked the length of her back, drove into her hair to urge her to meet his gaze.
Knowing what was coming, she kissed him and murmured, “No more words.”
“Damn it, you’ll listen for once. They’re not just words. I know it’s supposed to be impossible—”
She pressed her fingertips to his lips only long enough to replace them with her mouth. “Kiss me…and come. Come inside me. Please.” Each whispered word was a caress all its own, augmented by her rhythmic rocking against him.
Careful of her wound as he was of his size and strength, Gray nevertheless gripped her hips and helped intensify the ride. Time was their enemy—there was no denying it—but so was desire. Feeling its capriciousness undo him, Gray groaned into her mouth, “Ah, God, not yet. Not yet,” as the pressure built.
But Sasha’s body had never been so ripe, full of heat and him. And she wanted the rest. Repeating the subtlest tightening of internal muscles she felt him lose control, and the power of it sent her with him over the top.
The tremors lingered, and she yearned to prolong them, to repeat what they’d shared. But reality could allow only spare minutes, so they clung tightly to imprint what sensations they could. Before the first flush of passion receded fully, she ran her mouth along his collarbone, collecting a bit more of his essence. The fleeting caress spawned another spasm from Gray, so very present inside her.
Sadly, however, the sounds of the outer world were invading their dark oasis. The exodus seemed to be resuming in bits and spurts, and after what had been a brief respite, Jessie was barking with new insistence.
They had gambled with fate all they could dare.
With a last kiss, Sasha eased off Gray and began reaching for her clothes.
He, however, couldn’t stop touching her, her beaded nipple, her kiss-swollen lips. “This has only made it worse,” he murmured.
“I know.”
“I want—Sasha, sweetheart, let’s get Jessie. I’ll get us out.”
Here we go, she thought. “I can’t. That’s not an option for me.”
“Everyone’s going. Can’t you hear them?”
What worried her was that Borodin could be observing it, too, and, as a result, initiate a change in plans.
When she failed to respond, Gray began adjusting his clothes. She could tell by his brisk movements that he was upset with her.
“You can’t still be thinking of staying.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t win.”
“I’m not seeing this as a contest. It’s what needs to be done.”
Weary from the pace she’d been keeping all week, on top of the emotional strain of the last twenty-four hours, she picked up her gun and extra clip and headed for the living room. At the door, she eased to the side, unlocked the dead bolt, then swung the door wide.
All that greeted her was Jessie’s louder barks. Her eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by now, and as she stepped outside, she studied her surroundings. Everything seemed as it was, but it didn’t take light to gauge the amount of dust in the air due to the fleeing residents of Bitters.
A sudden cry had her ducking into a defensive position.
“Frank, don’t leave me. I need you.”
Recognizing the voice, she looked toward the police station where she saw a shadowy skirmish going on. Two people were wrestling, and then one fell to the ground. The other dived into the patrol car and keyed the engine. Gears grated and tires screeched as he backed recklessly into the street and then sped away.
Sasha ran, but by the time she made it to the front of the station, she could see Elias’s patrol car turning sharply at the dirt road and following the last car.
Unbelievable, Sasha thought. Worse yet, he’d left behind Gerri Rose.
She went to the sobbing woman lying in the fetal position on the ground. How had she managed to get away from Tim, or did he even know she wasn’t in their house? Sasha could only hope the girl hadn’t done something really insane. There was no time to deal with another crime scene right now.
“Come on, Gerri,” she said, touching the woman’s shoulder. “You have to get away from here. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t c-care. I can’t live without him an-anyway.”
“Trust me. It’ll be easier than you think. Come on.”
The girl allowed herself to be assisted, but continued weeping. “How could he? I told him that I loved him, a-and he acted like—He left m-me.”
“Yeah, he’s a regular prince. Now that you know, maybe you’ll wake up and figure out he’s not the answer to your problems, not to mention your dreams.”
As she steadied the younger woman, another vehicle turned out of a side street by the library, but rather than head up the dirt road, it turned toward them. Sasha was about to reach for her gun when she recognized the engine’s characteristic cough.
It was the white pickup. She stared in amazement as it pulled beside them and a young man, a heavier and blonder rendition of Tim Pike climbed out.
“Ger?” he called in a childlike voice. “Tim says it’s okay for me to bring you home. He said it’s okay to pick up ice cream if we hurry. You want a cone, Ger? I got money.”
Gerri Rose pressed her hand to her mouth, either to stem her sobs or hold back a hysterical laugh. Nevertheless, aided by the young man, she slid across the bench seat of the pickup. When he settled back behind the steering wheel, he waved cheerfully at Sasha.
He cut a slow, wide U-turn and drove away, leaving Sasha to stare after them. Dear heaven, she thought, wrapping her arms around her waist.
“That’s Tim’s half brother, Lonnie Metcalf,” Gray said, coming up behind her. “He’s a little slow.”
Things were moving way too fast for her. Sasha purged a deep breath trying to make sense of it all. “In all honesty, I don’t care if he has the IQ of a gnat,” she replied. “That’s the truck.”