Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(53)

He walked double time to the side steps then up them. When he reached to jerk the side door open he stopped.

There she was.

Her tank was a light pink, almost vanishing next to her fair skin, and it was thin, thin enough for him to know she had nothing on underneath. Her cotton shorts were so big she had the waist rolled down making them all the shorter.

All of the dark blonde curls of hers were free from the long braid she liked to trap them in and were wistfully falling over her shoulders. She had headphones in and was dancing in place...singing, as she baked. Brownies. I f*cking love brownies, he thought. His mouth watered and he doubted it was the baked goods causing it.

When she squinted her eyes closed and sang a verse out, using her chocolate covered spoon as a microphone as she spun around, his gunmetal gray eyes glinted with amusement.

Sure he’d scare her if he she did happen to notice his looming shadow outside; he stepped inside in the middle of one of her dramatic, eyes closed, spins. A spin that caused her to crash right into him then scream holy terror when she did so. She jarred back and pointed the spoon at him like a vicious weapon.

A beat later, with a heaving chest she ripped out her headphones and stared at him with the wide blue gaze he had seen every night as he closed his eyes.

Chocolate had splattered across her face. With a ghostly smile he stepped forward, his thumb reached to wipe the mark from her cheek away. Her blush, the rose tint sliding down her body, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

***

Justice Rose was not confused, she was utterly baffled at how or why Declan was there. She had fought to get over her embarrassing afternoon, pushed every thought of him and that girl out of her head. She refused to cry, and grasped anger like a boss. Music had been her salvation, and where that failed, brownies prevailed—even though she was making them for her grandmother for his freaking family Rally.

Now this, now she could feel the heat of his hand near her face, could see the hunger in his eyes, a pain filled with want and too many emotions to name. She could smell the commanding aroma of his aftershave and cologne, a cool mint and hint of spice, along with a scent that was all Declan.

In a breath his lips were on hers and she welcomed the call. When his arms encircled her and she felt his body made of steel slam into hers she climbed into his embrace, wrapping herself completely around him.

In the next beat she was against the refrigerator. His kiss went even deeper as he pressed into her and she felt how eager he was to be even closer. Feeling his desire in every move he made, hearing that she was stealing his breath, feeling his strong heart thunder under her touch was...it was whimsical, everything she had imagined day after day, night after night. It made her realize her memory of how sensual he had been was not a hallucination at all.

She had never wanted him more.

Then all at once the anger she had been soaking in all afternoon decided it should make itself known.

Instead of her hands grasping they began pushing at him, but he was so lost in the taste of her, the rush only she could give him, he took it as her excitement. It wasn’t until she nipped at his lip a bit so brashly that he jerked away and she ducked out of the cage of his arms that he got the hint.

She sucked in a breath as she began to pace.

“What the f*ck?” he roared, reaching for his lip. She didn’t draw blood but he was sure if he hadn’t pulled away when he did, she would have.

“I tried pushing you off,” she said and shrugged sharply, still pacing, and still fighting her heaving chest. This boy was going to be the death of her! No sane person could survive the highs and lows he dished out, much less how fast they came.

A sarcastic smirk came to him as the tip of his thumb reach to wipe the corner of his mouth. What was left of her scorching kiss had turned cold, and he was smearing the harsh reminder away.

“I’ll never get you,” he said, moving toward the door, understanding this was a mistake. He had no self-control around this girl. She took all the black and white of his life and flooded it with color.

“Me?” she yelled after him, pointing at her chest all but hopping in place like a boxer ready to go into the ring, charging forward only to step back.

He didn’t find her defense adorable, he found himself swelling with pride, and reassurance. She was strong. Bold.

Women leave. At the drop of a hat. But if he were to ever give the notion of keeping one around, be foolish enough of thinking of some forever, she’d have to be strong. He’d worry no matter what when he was gone, but having someone who didn’t have the mindset to stand up and defend themselves, in any way, for any reason—he wouldn’t be able to deal with.

Blunt and strong, those were things he knew how to respond to.

“Yes, you!” he roared back. “You go through f*cking hell and don’t even think to tell me!” He pointed at her. “And don’t say I didn’t need the pressure. What I didn’t need the pressure of was you not telling me you’re all right.”

Some of the anger left her, but not much. She was back to her fast, short pace. The speed of her breaths were not from passion but from her doing her best to take in the adrenaline soaring through her.

“I needed to hear it from you,” he said in a less fierce tone. “I needed you to tell me you were safe. Something.”

She jarred forward and pushed against his chest only to pull back. “I answered you! The first breath of clarity I had I used to find your letters and tell you. Answer you!”