Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(7)

"Ramblin' man."

"Yep."

"I'm the opposite of you, Gentry Striker. I will dig my roots so hard  and so deep into a place I will grow stagnant and not move or breathe or  think for years."

"But you're here."

She gave him a tired smile. "I'm trying to break my roots."

"Why?"

"Divorce."

"Oh, shit. When?"

"A year ago."

"So you're still in the man-hating phase then," he said with a baiting smile.

Blaire giggled. She couldn't help it. This wasn't funny at all, but …   "Yeah, I guess I am. You suck less than the other boys, though."

"So far."

"Yeah, you still have a whole week to make me hate you. Better get to practicing."

"What should I do?"

"Uuuuh, you could ignore me. You could slowly grow colder and more  distant until you barely look at me. You could call me names. You could  make me feel invisible."

Gentry's lip curled up in a terrifying grimace. Just a second, and then  it was gone, as if it had never been there before. But she'd seen it,  and the feral expression had lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Is that what your ex did?"

Blaire inhaled deeply and nodded. "Pretty lame. I always thought the  only way I would ever consider divorce was if he hit me or he cheated.  Our break was quiet, though. No drama. He just gave me the papers one  day, and after the shock wore off, we both just … left. We'd been together  since we were kids, and married young. When we divorced, he told me he  didn't know if he ever loved me, or if he just needed someone to love  him like I did when we were younger. He told me he didn't need that  anymore. Didn't need me. He didn't want kids, and that made it worse  because I want to be a mom. We hugged goodbye the day he moved out of  the house. No yelling, no name-calling. It was like two roommates going  on with their lives. Only he moved on, and I grew my roots deeper. Clung  to the house and all our pictures. All of our memories. I dug my claws  into work so it would distract me from the ache, and at some point, I  lost myself completely. So here I am in Rangeley … "

"Trying to find yourself again," Gentry finished in a deep rumble.

She nodded and stared at the flickering fire. "Yep."

"That's why you said ‘no' when I asked you to leave."

"Yeah, I kind of need this week."

Gentry cracked his knuckles and shook his head. He gave her a sideways  glance, and she could've sworn his green eyes were brighter somehow.  "There are things you don't understand here. Things under the surface."

"Danger?"

He dipped his chin once. "If you stay, you listen if I ask you to do stuff, no questions asked."

She stiffened at that. "I don't like being told what to do."

"I bet you don't. I don't like telling people what to do. It's why I  left this place when I was a kid. I was supposed to be a leader here."

"Like the mayor?"

His eyes narrowed. "Something like that. I won't try and boss you  around, Blaire, but I'm not very popular in town right now. You're  staying at my inn, and I don't want any of the tension to blow back on  you. So please, if I ask you to do something, just do it. Okay?"

Blaire lifted her attention to the cuts and bruises on the left side of  his face. There was no reason to trust him, but Gentry had made sure  she'd stayed in the cabin tonight instead of going out to get food, and  look what had happened to him. She believed he was protecting her in  some confusing way, even though he had no reason to. And now, he was  asking her to trust him.                       
       
           



       

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

She didn't understand what was happening here in Rangeley, but she had a  bone-deep instinct that Gentry had his finger on the pulse of this  town. He was offering to keep her out of trouble, and all the lust she  felt toward him gave way just a little to something more. In this  moment, with his bright green eyes locked on her, a soft expression on  his usually hard face, one of her thin heartstrings that had somehow  survived her ex latched tentatively to Gentry.

This was the most terrifying moment of her life. She didn't want another  break, and getting attached to a man was setting her up for just that.  This had been fun when she'd just been turned on by him, but this  conversation had changed the winds and sent their little boat crashing  sideways into a wave.

"I should go," she murmured, trying to hold a tight smile.

Gentry's eyebrows lowered into a troubled expression, but he nodded. "Probably best."

"Goodnight, Gentry," she said, standing. She set the wadded-up food  wrapper in the bag and moved to take the blanket off her shoulders, but  Gentry was there so fast she gasped. His hands pressed on her shoulders,  keeping the blanket in place.

"Bring it back later when you decide to wear a damn jacket outside." His voice was too gruff, too rough, too low.

He pressed his body against hers, and his hands tightened slightly on  her shoulders. The flames from the hearth heated her front while Gentry  warmed her back. God, she should be running from him. She should be  sprinting to her car and peeling out of here, out of this town, out of  the reach of this tempting man.

But her body, the traitor, stood there frozen and wanting. With his  cheek, Gentry pushed her head to the side gently, then lowered his mouth  to her neck and brushed it there as soft as a butterfly kiss. Parting  her lips, Blaire let off a helpless sound and rolled her eyes closed  against how good it felt to be touched by a man again.

Gentry inhaled deeply right at her hair line. The short whiskers on his  jaw raised gooseflesh up her body. He was teasing with a kiss on her  neck, letting his lips touch her, then easing away. He scraped his  facial scruff across her sensitive skin, then eased away again. His  hands slid from her shoulders down her back to her hips. Slowly, he  pulled the blanket from her and pressed his body more firmly against her  back. And oh, she could feel his excitement against her spine. A soft  noise whispered from his throat that sounded animalistic. She liked it.

Gentry slid his left hand around her hipbone, brushing his fingertips  just under the hem of her shirt, dragging fire where his skin touched  hers. She inhaled sharply and rolled back against him instinctively. The  second she moved against him, he grabbed her hard, digging his fingers  into her skin. Rough man, just like she knew he would be.

"Don't tempt me to take this too far tonight, Trouble," he murmured against her neck.

Ooooh he was a sexy talker, teasing her, making promises, hinting that  he had plans. She wanted to tempt him, so she rolled her body back  against his again.

Gentry's hand slid smoothly up her shirt and cupped her breast, and dear  goodness nothing had felt better. Nothing in her entire life. He  kneaded her gently, and with his other hand, he brushed his fingertips  just under the elastic of her waistband.

"Tell me to stop, Trouble," he dared her, then plucked gently against  her neck with his lips. He still hadn't kissed her. Only teased with his  mouth.

They should stop. She was supposed to be bolting out the door and  putting space between them before she fell harder. Even if she felt like  she knew him, and even if she trusted him in ways that made no sense,  he was still a danger to her heart. But he was touching her, feeling  her, working her into an inferno. Warmth pooled in her belly, and she  was already wet from what he'd done to her body. Gentry was a man who  knew how to touch a woman, and maybe she needed this.

She should've told him to stop, but instead she cupped her hand over his  and guided him down into her pants. Gentry wasn't teasing anymore. He  slid his finger right inside of her, then let off a shuddering breath as  if it felt as good to him as it did to her. He pulled out and pushed  back in, hitting her clit. Geez, this was everything. Her body was  overheating from the flames in the hearth or from Gentry's body warmth  or from the fire he'd created inside of her. Maybe all three. Her  sensitive nerve endings sparked like lightning every time he slid into  her just right. She reached over her shoulder and gripped the back of  his neck, holding him close as he worked her toward release. Almost  there already.

"Gentry," she whispered, begging for something she didn't understand. He  was already giving her everything. "Oooh," she moaned as he pushed into  her again.                       
       
           



       

His lips were back on her neck, just barely, brushing her skin, so close  to a kiss. She'd never been withheld a kiss before. She loved and hated  it. She wanted it, wanted him to lock onto her, wanted him to spin her  around and devour her lips, but he didn't.