Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(22)

She let the guitar fall to her side and pushed to her feet. He didn’t move back to give her space, but since she was standing on the step, she was eye to eye with him.

She framed his face with her hands and leaned in to slant her lips lightly over his. She brushed back the other direction, feeling the vibrations from her sensitive lips through every nerve in her body as if she’d strummed all the strings in an open chord.

When his mouth opened to her, she drew back and stared at him. “I didn’t come to Angels Rest chasing you, Diesel, I swear. But if you want to be caught, just for tonight, I’m here.”

She slipped past him down the step and walked around the side of the house, crossing the coarse mat he’d laid over the power cord. She tucked the guitar into its case in the front passenger seat then slid around to the roomy back.

Roomy only because it didn’t have all the gear and bodies of their old touring days. She hadn’t realize how much she missed it until she’d powered up the little reading light they’d always used to plot the next leg of their route each early, early morning after a gig. By herself, the space felt too big, too empty.

But as Diesel pulled himself up through the sliding door, the wine bottle dangling from his fingers, the space immediately got close and heated.

Or maybe that was just her.

He cast one glance around but then his gaze was fixed on her again. “I can’t stay,” he warned.

She lounged back on the futon mattress. “You might’ve noticed my bed has wheels,” she said. “I’ve never been much of a one for staying either.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I think that’s my fault.”

She snorted. “Because you gave me my first kiss? You think I’ve been chasing you ever since?”

His eyes opened and he pulled the sliding door closed with a bang. “Yes.”

“You sure think highly of yourself.”

“No, that’s just it. I didn’t.” He settled on the far end of the mattress from her and took a swig from the bottle. “I was just a geeky, uncertain kid, and you were so…fearless. Nothing stopped you. And in just a couple weeks, you taught me to go after what I wanted.” He stared at her. “And part of me knew I wanted you.”

His intensity shook her. “We were just kids, Diesel. We couldn’t know anything about who we’d become.”

“You used to sing when we were riding our bikes around. Everybody in the neighborhood knew you were coming.” He gave her a faint smile. “The first day we met, you told me you’d be famous someday.”

She flushed. “I guess I thought highly of myself too.”

“That fascinated me.” He looked down at his hand, fisted on the flannel blanket covering the futon. “My family moved so much when I was a kid. We were never in one place for very long. My older brother had…behavioral issues. He’d get into trouble, and we’d have to move again. There were some older folk in my family who thought he should be…locked away.”

Willow frowned. “That’s awful. For him and for you.”

“I tried so hard to be good, to be quiet and always get along, to make up for him. But after awhile, I didn’t want to make friends because I knew we’d just be leaving again.” He grimaced. “Didn’t help either that I was skinny and nerdy.”

She reached over to touch his clenched knuckles. “I thought you were cute in your Wolfman shirt.”

His lashes flared up, and he pinned her with a sharp gaze. “That spring was the first time I almost wanted to be my brother. To kick up a fuss so everyone had to listen to me for once. Because I wanted to stay for the whole summer. With you. But that time, he actually hurt someone and we had to move again.” He shook his head with a wry curl to his lips. “I got parental consent to join the army at seventeen just because I needed the peace.”

She squeezed his hand. “You never told me any of this.”

He shrugged. “It was an ugly family secret. Plus, we were too busy not catching fish. And I wanted to be normal, just for a little while.”

Her heart ached for the scrawny boy who’d run amok in the woods with her. “If you wanted to be normal, you should’ve traded me the Wolfman for my vintage Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox. But you practically bit my head off when I offered.”

“You’re right. I should have.” He rolled his hand upright to close his fingers gently around her wrist. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

Her pulse leaped under his fingertips. “To trade me?”

“To bite you.” He pulled her toward him.

His mood seemed so strange, so volatile, she thought maybe she should be more nervous now than when she’d chosen him from the alley, thinking him a complete stranger.

Except he wasn’t a stranger. In some ways, he was the last person to know that wild, singing girl who’d cannonballed through life, with no concerns except her own delight.

Now he’d given her the chance to seize that again. And she already had two and a half songs out of the deal.

“So bite me,” she murmured. “Make me feel it.”

He looped one arm behind her back and bent her over, his eyes glittering before his mouth descended on hers.

The tannin bite of the wine wreathed them. She let out a soft moan and reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. How could he, with just one kiss, ignite all the sensations she tried to evoke in her songs? With one breath, he filled her with music.