Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(26)

Licking my lips, I taste the lake water. I give his admission all of two seconds’ thought, because it’s all I need. I understand where he’s coming from…I just don’t want to be there. Which means I need to put some real distance between us now.

“Let’s get back to Stoney,” I say, nodding toward the shore. “I don’t want an infraction, or whatever they give you when you f*ck up.”

I start wading through the water when he says, “Wait.”

Dammit. I can feel whatever shit this guy has buried weighting me down. Pulling me into the figurative undertow. I should have listened to that nagging voice and stayed to myself.

Still, I give him another second.

He moves in front of me, his towering height blocking my escape. “What does your tat mean?” His gaze lowers to my chest. To the words scrawled below my collarbone in my handwritten script.

From Pain Comes Strength.

I raise my eyebrows. “I think it’s pretty straight forward there, Boone. Kind of simple to figure out. What do you think?”

He lifts his hand from the water, as if he’s going to touch me…but hesitates. Hand suspended, his gaze trained on my chest, my breathing ratchets. Then he makes contact, slowly tracing his finger along the first word. Beads of water drip down my skin, roll between my breasts. A breath lodges in my throat at the feel of his finger—rough yet tender at the same time, his light touch. He works his way across, to the last word, and slips his finger beneath the strap of my bra. Moves it aside. So he can see the tat fully.

See me fully.

“I think,” he says, “you’re the farthest thing from simple to figure out.” His fingers skim down lower, over the swell of my breast, before he pulls away. Then he looks into my eyes. “I just don’t know where to begin, or if it’s too much of a challenge.”





Boone

Of brimstone and kiss



NO WORDS COULD BE truer. But I’m shocked as hell they came from my mouth.

Melody is caught somewhere between fascination and appall. I didn’t give her a compliment, and she’s smart enough to understand that. Most chicks would’ve blushed, smiled, accepted the words surface deep.

Not her. She’s clinging to the underlying meaning. Trying to unravel the mystery. That’s why I should leave her the hell alone. My first conquest to get back in the game shouldn’t be her; I should hook up with someone easy…not that kind of easy. Well okay, yeah, maybe. Someone who isn’t going to look too close. Who won’t painfully peel back the layers, dissect everything I let fly out of my mouth. It’s exhausting just being around her, trying to filter my thoughts.

I need uncomplicated.

That’s what I decide. I give her one last, longing glance, let my gaze sweep over her pale pink bra, her hard nipples peaked against the wet material, and subtly sink under the water to adjust my hard, aching cock.

The look she’s giving me nearly does me in, though. Almost makes me say f*ck it and grab her, just to end the torment. I’m a livewire, strung taut and snapping, dying to press her body against mine. Just to get some relief.

Then, “You’ll never face a harder challenge.” Her words sink into me, to the marrow. She releases me from her penetrating gaze, and says over her shoulder as she begins to swim away, “Let’s leave it at that.”

And she’s right. Again. I don’t need this shit. I was wrong that first night when I approached her, when I let her gravity pull me in. I’m sure there’s a plethora of guys in orbit out there now, who she keeps all at bay. Waiting for the second she crooks her finger at them.

I have to admit, when I first saw her, I was tempted by that pouty mouth. The big dark eyes, gorgeous against her creamy skin. Layers of burgundy and black hair swept up into a messy pony tail, brushing her soft shoulders. Petite, tight body with curves in all the right places…begging to be explored. She looked so mouthwateringly untouchable. Tough as nails yet soft and tender.

But it was more than that. She sung, over the crowd, over the chaos, her pain. She wears it like a shield of impenetrable armor. Literally has it tattooed on her body. It called out, whether it wanted to be heard or not, recognized or not, and my pain answered in reply. Physical attraction; anyone can feel it. Anyone can act on it. But that soul deep cry—that raw harmony that plays on a frequency too low to hear—that’s what caught my attention. Ensnared me.

Only I was too oblivious at first to acknowledge it for what it was.

There wouldn’t be any escape with this girl. Not the kind I’m craving.

“Get your ass out, guy,” she shouts from the bank. “Hustle up. I have to get back before I’m assumed AWOL.”

Then there’s that: messing around with a user. It’d be safer for me to stick my hand right into a fire. Because this proverbial one is going to hurt a lot more.

That thought helps the rock hard boner tenting my boxers to wilt, and I can move out of the water. But dammit, as soon as I’m solid in my choice, mentally berating myself for almost getting mixed up with another user…she bends over to grab her pants.

She’s wearing these cream and pink, half ass cheek covering things. Not thongs—I know what to call those. But they’re sexy as hell. Lace trims enough of her round ass to hide most of it, but reveals all the sexiness. And I can’t help myself; I stare. Stare hard.