Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(31)

Chapter Ten


“They seemed nice,” she said as Mike unlocked the door to his house.

“They are. They’ve put up with me enough, that’s for sure.”

When he ushered her in before him, she stepped inside. “Oh, I don’t think ‘put up’ is what they do with you,” she said wryly, trying vainly to tame her hair.

“I guess you got the story Jenna loves to tell.”

“Immediately. I got that story within the first thirty seconds.”

He chuckled, and she was struck by the way his lips perfectly framed his strong white teeth. Oh God, he’s gorgeous. Even as short as his hair was, it hadn’t escaped the wind’s havoc. The beers had brought a flush to his cheeks. “Yeah, she’s a little enthusiastic. He’d pretty much gotten himself out of the riptide, kid’s a strong swimmer. He knew what to do, which way to swim. I just made sure he made it back to shore without getting tired.”

Well, he had his side, Jenna had hers, and the truth was probably somewhere in the middle. “Either way, it’s pretty damn incredible of you to do that. It was still risky.”

“I suppose.” His eyes were like blue ice, yet the full force of them somehow burned.

She wanted nothing more than to continue what they’d started on the beach, but it was almost two A.M.—she’d wanted to be back at her hotel by now. Luckily, checking her phone showed no urgent messages from Rowan, though her mother had tried to call her three times. Probably beside herself and wanting to know if they were still alive, but it was too late to call her back now.

“Everything okay?” he asked as she slipped her phone back into her purse.

“Yes.”

“Want a drink?”

Sighing, she made her decision, though it was the last thing on earth she wanted. “I’d better get back.”

“I thought you might say that. Hoped you wouldn’t, but thought you might.”

“I don’t want to,” she admitted.

He leaned his arms on the kitchen counter, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flex of those forearms. The man’s veins were a wonder to behold. “It’s f*cked up,” he said ruefully. “I know.”

But it hadn’t felt f*cked up when he kissed her out there. Despite any objections her mind had wanted to throw at her then or afterward, it had felt wonderful. It had felt right.

Maybe Rowan had said it best. I can be sad tomorrow, I can be sad for the rest of this month and all of the next, or the rest of my life if I have to be. What was wrong with taking a night off from reality?

It was her heart at stake, that’s what. Everything felt so good, so right, what if she spent the night with him only to discover he was truly everything she’d ever dreamed of? That would be the ultimate heartbreak. She didn’t know if she could be strong enough to walk away, and walk away she must.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” The way he looked at her then—God, the way he always looked at her—eyes so intense and piercing, made her mouth run dry. “You want to leave, I’ll take you. You want to stay . . .” He grinned, and her mind supplied what she figured he was thinking: I’ll take you. She shivered. “Then you can stay,” he finished.

“I would have to be back early,” she said softly. “Before Rowan misses me.”

“I’m sure we can manage that.”

“I didn’t bring anything.”

He pushed away from the counter and walked around it, advancing on her slowly. She swallowed dryly, never as struck by his sheer size as when he was close to her. And she wasn’t short by any means. “What do you need?”

“Um . . . toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, something to sleep in . . .”

“I have most of that here.” Closer. One corner of his mouth kicked up. “And don’t worry, you smell pretty damn good. You tasted pretty damn good too.”

A flush crept up her cheeks. “I’ve had onions since then.” Oh, hell, that’s sexy, she scolded herself. The blond trophy standing beside him tonight at the concert would never have mentioned having onion breath to him, Savannah just knew it.

But he laughed. And he’d tasted and smelled pretty damn good too. She could smell him now: the salt of the gulf, grill smoke, and something faint and fleeting—his cologne, perhaps. Her heart tripped over itself, and her breathing quickened to compensate for its frantic beat. As he drew nearer, his warmth permeated her skin. Even through her clothes, through his, she could feel it. When we’re skin to skin, she thought, he’ll incinerate me.

God help her, she wanted to burn. Burn until there was nothing left of her heart and mind but ashes, no room to think, no time to second-guess.

He must have seen or sensed the moment she broke, the moment she gave in to this. His hands caught her head and tilted her lips to his, claiming them in a way that was nothing like that gentle, tentative exploration on the beach. Now he possessed her. Fingers in her hair, holding her fast while his mouth devoured hers and drew out the last of her strength, any lingering protests, and an abundance of helpless whimpers. She’d never felt so deliciously weak, so shaken to her core from a kiss.

But then he broke away and she blinked dazedly, almost embarrassing herself by chasing after him. “You sure you want this? You’re shaking.”