a reason to live(16)
“Don’t say it,” he clipped short. He couldn’t handle her thanking him for anything to do with her sister. He was too riled up.
She took a few deep breaths after his outburst, nodded, then continued. “As I was saying, I was in the area and thought I’d stop in and say . . . hi.”
The word liar bounced around in his head, and he grew more pissed off.
“Maxine says you’re runnin’, that some person is after you, and your first thought was to contact me. A man you don’t know.”
“I already went to the police and they can’t do anything to help until this person makes a move. I left town hoping my departure might calm things down. Then I found myself in your neck of the woods so I thought—”
“Bullshit,” Shane bit out, his voice hard and unyielding. “Trails End isn’t on the way to—or from, for that matter—anywhere . . . So, I’ll ask again, why are you here?”
“I wanted to say thank—to say hi.”
“You wanted to say hi to a man you don’t know while you’re runnin’ scared?” he sarcastically accused.
She’d held his eyes until then, but when he called her bluff, she looked away. She was lying and she knew he knew it.
Twelve months of breathing and eating the guilt over her sister’s death had worn his control thin. And today of all days, she showed up with no forewarning, kicking him in the gut with her presence. Therefore, he didn’t have the time or inclination to be patient with her. Wanting the truth, he moved toward her and got right into her space, using his size once again to intimidate her into telling him the truth.
“You came here hoping I would help, didn’t you?”
When her eyes widened and she looked away, he had his answer.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded.
Her head came up immediately, and she looked at him. He could see color warming her cheeks and her pale-green pools were bright with unshed tears. She licked her lips again. A nervous habit, he decided, but the effect was still the same. Hunger set in, his blood began to burn, and his cock ached.
“Answer me,” he demanded, his attention dropping to her mouth.
“Yes.”
“Even though you don’t know me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma Jane said you were the bravest man she’d ever met.”
A direct hit to his soul.
Shane closed his eyes and hung his head.
“She said you cared more for the men who were injured than your own safety. That—”
“Don’t,” Shane grit out.
“But you need to know how much she admired—”
“Jesus, I don’t want to hear this,” he hissed.
“Trust me, Sergeant. My sister knows a good man when she sees one. We both do. Please don’t beat yourself—”
Shane couldn’t bear to hear another word. His only recourse was to shut her up, so he grabbed her neck and slammed his mouth over hers. She gasped when his lips met hers and he took full advantage. Anchoring her mouth to his with the scruff of her hair, Shane bent her head back so he could control the kiss. Her hands were pinned to his chest, but as he deepened the kiss, they moved up and wrapped around his neck. Warmth crawled up his spine and settled in his chest, replacing the constant ache he’d grown used to feeling inside.
He lost himself in the taste of her lips and the feel of her soft curves pressed against his body. Lust pumped through his veins in primal need. A need that spoke of claiming, of possession. The taste of her—sweet, sultry, all woman—drugged him, and he drank deeper until the need to rip the clothes from her body consumed him.
Tearing his mouth from hers, Shane buried his head in her neck, determined to take his fill of her sweet scent. She whimpered, “Shane,” as he ran his tongue along her neck, but something about the way she pronounced his name reminded him of Sloan and he froze. Realization of what he was doing crept in and he pulled back, abruptly setting her aside, regretting the loss of her warm body wrapped around his instantly.
Sage staggered when he let go, looking helpless, reminding him further of her younger sister, making the ache return, slamming into his chest like a freight train. He knew then he’d screwed up. He should have stayed away. Now the taste of her lips would haunt him as well.
“Your sister’s faith in me in was unfounded. I’m not who you think I am,” he said without feeling and then turned his back to leave.
“Bullshit,” she shouted though her voice trembled with emotion. “Tell me, Shane. Tell me what happened that makes you think you let Emma Jane down!”
Shane twisted at her plea and saw tears running down her cheeks. At the sight of her anguish, he was unable to keep the truth from her. He’d done enough; he might as well rip the Band-Aid off and set her straight so her perception of him was clear. He was no hero.