Loe raamatut: «Melt Into You»

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

Acknowledgments

Special Excerpt from Crash Into You

About The Author

Also by Roni Loren

Praise for Crash Into You

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

twelve years ago

Most of the time temptation climbs into your lap and straddles you, demands you deal with it immediately. Give in or deprive yourself. Choose your adventure.

Jace’s general stance: Deprivation was overrated.

But he’d never faced this kind of temptation. The kind that seeped into your skin so slowly you didn’t even notice until you were soaked with it, saturated. To the point that every thought, every breath, seemed to be laced with the desire for that thing you shouldn’t have.

And right now that thing was nibbling flecks of purple polish off her fingernails.

Jace shifted on the rec room couch, pretending to look for the remote control, even though he could feel the damn thing digging into his hip. He had to do something to get her calves off his lap. Otherwise, she was going to feel exactly how much he hadn’t been concentrating on the horror movie. Or she’d assume he’d gotten the monster hard-on watching the teens get butchered on the screen. Although, thinking he got off on blood and guts might be preferable to the real reason he was sporting wood.

She tucked her legs to her chest and set her chin on her knees, staring at him with eyes so pale blue, they looked like silver dimes in the flicker of the television. Thunder rumbled outside and her gaze darted to the window behind him. Wary. “Maybe we should’ve watched that Jim Carrey movie instead.”

He hit Stop on the VCR, cutting off the eerie music to the closing credits, and resisted the urge to scoot closer to her, to curl around her lithe body and slay her fears like the dude in the movie had done for the heroine. Well, up until the guy’s head was lopped off. That he could skip. “See, I warned you it would freak you out. I shouldn’t have even let you watch it. It’s rated R. Too old for you.”

She snorted and shoved his thigh with her foot. “Said the nineteen-year-old who just finished his third beer.”

He glanced at the empty bottles on the side table. Yeah, he was batting a thousand on the responsible adult thing tonight. Good thing his parents had left him in charge. “I’m in college. Beer is part of homework.”

“Whatever. I’ll be rated-R approved in three months anyway.” She grabbed her Coke off the coffee table and sipped, drawing his attention down to her heart-shaped lips and the way they drew the liquid slowly from the bottle. “Hell, I’ll be porn approved.”

Fuck. That’s the last image she needed to paint on his brain. “No, you won’t. Gotta be eighteen for that.”

Lightning reflected off the silver ring in her arched eyebrow. “You would know, I’m sure.”

“I’m a guy.” Which should be enough of an explanation. “And don’t you dare watch any of that shit until you’re like thirty.”

“Oh, please. I’m not that innocent, Jace,” she said, yawning and setting down her drink. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, smudging her heavy kohl eyeliner until she looked like some gothic angel. “The couple I was placed with last time had a huge stash that their idiot sons always raided. I’ve seen my share of bom-chicka-wah-wah.”

“Oh, terrific. Glad you were supervised so well.”

“It was stupid. The guy actors were ugly and the girls were fake-looking.” She bumped his thigh with her bare foot again. “Kind of like those chicks you always date.”

He almost jolted when she touched him. He felt like that game Operation where any slight nudge sent a loud buzz through his system—only this buzz went straight to his dick. Every time he was around her these days was like this.

He’d almost gotten used to it, had accepted the painful state as part of his daily existence. Then two weeks ago they’d been goofing off in the pool. She’d sprayed him in the face with the hose, and he’d grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her into the water with him. When she’d surfaced, she’d been laughing—something as rare as a unicorn sighting.

He’d pushed her hair off her face, intending to dunk her again, but had gotten caught in the net of her laughing eye-lock. He’d hesitated. And in the space between blinks, she’d glided in closer to him, invaded his space, and kissed him.

And dammit, he’d kissed her back. Had let all the pent-up desire he’d harbored for her over the last few months pour into the kiss. So stupid.

He knew having someone live in his parents’ house for a year didn’t make her his sister. But he wasn’t dumb enough to think kissing her was okay either. Especially when she was still in high school. Man, if hell existed, he was going straight there.

He’d stopped the kiss when she’d pressed her body against his, her one-piece bathing suit not thick enough to insulate him from her every peak and valley beneath it. She’d swum off without a word and hadn’t mentioned it again, apparently voting to pretend it never happened. He’d seconded that vote.

But now he realized they were probably going to have to discuss it. Draw a nice little chalk line between them. He’d drunk the beer, hoping to get some liquid courage, but no such luck.

He scooted more toward the arm of the couch, away from contact with her feet. “The girls I date aren’t fake-looking.” Not totally.

“They sure as hell don’t look like me.”

Fuck no, they didn’t. They didn’t smell of cherry shampoo like she did either. Or smile at only his good jokes, not the lame ones. Or make him feel like he was worth hanging out with—not because of his money, or his rank on the college swim team, but just because. “No one looks like you.”

Her gaze shifted back to her chipped nail polish. “Yeah, well, not all of us can be supermodels.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

She swung her legs from the couch to the floor and stood. “I’m going to go clean this polish off and go to bed. Thanks for renting the movie, even though I think I’ll be sleeping with the lights on and the closet doors open tonight.”

“Hold up.” Jace grabbed her hand before she could escape, knowing he shouldn’t say what he was about to, but not okay letting her walk away feeling like she was somehow less than. “I’m serious. Those girls only wish they looked as great as you. Really.”

“You’re so full of crap I bet your eyes have turned brown with it.” She slipped her fingers from his grasp and hugged her elbows. “Don’t do this because of what happened in the pool. I have enough people doing the let’s-lie-to-make-her-feel-good thing. You’re the only one I’ve been able to count on to not bullshit me.”

Thunder rolled outside as if gathering energy off her building anger.

He leaned back on the couch, his hands out to his sides. “Chill, I’m not lying to you, okay?” I haven’t really been sitting here all night watching you instead of the stupid movie. And no, I haven’t spent the last two weeks replaying how good it felt to kiss you that day. Or wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped things.

She stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, like she was determining results on some internal lie detector.

He knew more discussion in this direction wasn’t going to lead anywhere good. If she kept prying, his feelings were going to slip out, especially with his tongue loose from beer. “You should go to bed.”

Her lips parted as if she was going to push the issue further, but then—thank God—clamped them shut and turned her back on him. “Good night, Jace.”

After he was sure she’d be done in the bathroom and tucked into her own room, Jace trudged upstairs to get ready for bed. He should’ve skipped brushing his teeth. The minute he stepped into the steamy, cherry-scented bathroom, his hard-on returned full force. She’d showered.

He groaned as images of her slipping out of her clothes right where he stood assailed him. Water sluicing down over her every curve, washing away all that makeup and leaving behind that natural beauty so few girls seemed to have. Her hands sliding soap over her naked body, touching, exploring. Fuck.

He brushed his teeth with brutal force and shoved his toothbrush back in its holder, fighting the temptation to climb in the shower and let the fantasy run wild while he stroked himself. He’d done it before with her on his mind. But he knew it wouldn’t provide any real relief. It’d only key him up more, and all he wanted to do right now was fall into bed and crash. At least if he was sleeping he didn’t have to think about the girl two doors down.

He made his way to his bedroom and flipped on a lamp. The room flooded with warm light, but then flickered off, the distinctive sound of everything electronic in the house going from a whir to dead silence following it. Ah, hell.

He crossed to the far side of the room and pulled back the curtains on the pair of large windows, lighting his room with the flashing of the storm. With wind like this, losing electricity had been inevitable. Now he wouldn’t even be able to distract himself with TV to help get to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped between the cool sheets.

Stared at the ceiling.

This was going to be a long night.

He counted the seconds between the bolts of lightning and the boom of thunder—the space between getting less and less. The worst of the rain would pass over them soon. But he feared his throbbing hard-on wouldn’t fade quite as quickly.

He tossed from one side of the bed to the other, trying to think of something—anything—besides the girl down the hall. Even replaying some of the gory scenes from the movie they’d watched didn’t help. Nothing could shake the image of her standing there—smudged eyeliner, faded sweatshirt, and a jaded smirk that told him she really didn’t believe she was beautiful.

Didn’t realize he couldn’t even concentrate when she was near.

He flopped onto his back with a strangled sigh. He would never fall asleep at this rate. Not with his brain on an endless loop and his body staging the boner from hell. Resigned, he let his hand track down his abdomen and below the waistband of his shorts, imagining that it was her delicate, purple-polished fingers wrapping around his cock instead of his large hand.

He groaned as he stroked up the length and ran a thumb over the tip. God, how many times in the last few months had he thought of her this way? He couldn’t ever remember aching for someone like this. Sex was sex. Girls were girls. Both had always come easy to him. Neither was something to get all knotted up about. Why was she so different?

Her name whispered off his lips as he brought himself closer to release, and the windows rattled with the next roll of thunder. Jace almost missed the faint tap tap tap sound mixed in with it. The noise came again. He tilted his head, listened. Another knock and then his door cracked open a sliver, a beam of light peeking through. “Jace?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pulled his hand from his shorts and squinted in the glare of the flashlight. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice swallowed by another rumble outside.

Hell no! He sat up on his elbows, making sure he had enough blankets over him to cover what was beneath the sheets. “You okay?”

She stepped fully into the room and clicked off the flashlight. “Do you have any matches or a lighter? I . . . I know it’s stupid, but the dark still freaks me out and I want to light a few candles.”

He frowned. “No, sorry, I don’t. I could go look downstairs. There may be some in the kitchen.”

“No, don’t get up.” She took another step toward him, the flashing from the windows lighting her in strobe effect, each blink giving his eyes something new to torture himself with. Bare legs. Short gym shorts. Damp hair. A tank top so thin he could see the shadow of dusky pink nipples beneath it.

But where he lost it was when his eyes locked with hers. The longing he felt in his own chest reflected in her pale blue stare. He tried to clear the knot that lodged in his throat. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to go back to my room, Jace,” she said, something very different from fear lacing her words.

His tongue grew thick in his mouth. “Well, you can’t stay in here.”

Another step closer, now within arm’s reach of him. “Why not? No one will be home until tomorrow.”

He groaned and raked a hand through his now sweat-dampened hair. “Because . . . Jesus, you know why.”

“Because you think I’m pretty.” The corner of her mouth lifted despite the obvious nervous edge tracking through her tone.

“Don’t do this,” he said, not sure if the words were directed at her or himself.

“Come on, I want to know.”

“Yes, because I think you’re pretty.” He looked toward the windows, breathed. “Because I damn near lose my mind every time I’m near you lately.”

Her breath escaped in a sharp little puff, and the thunder rolled between them, electrifying the air.

He hardened his tone, hoping she’d run for the door. “Go back to your room. We’re playing a dangerous game and doing the right thing has never been my strong suit.”

“That’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting down on the bed, ignoring his warning. The curve of her hip brushed against the back of his hand. “You’re the only one in this family that seems to live in the moment, to take risks.”

Yeah, and his family hated him for it. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the vision of her, but her scent wrapped around him just the same, awakening every nerve in his body.

Soft skin slid across his palm as she gripped his hand. “Take a risk on me, Jace. Please. I need . . .” She paused and he opened his eyes to find hers going shiny. “I need you.”

The stark ache in her voice sank down into his bones, eclipsing even the sexual attraction he had for her and fueling something deeper, some longing to connect with her. Hold her. Soothe whatever made her so sad beneath that tough girl façade. To be that guy to fight off her demons.

To be what she needed.

So he squeezed her hand and pulled her down against him, taking her lips in a slow, savoring kiss and letting himself fall to the desire that had choked him these last few months. Her body melted along his, her hands exploring his bare chest, threading though his hair, touching and testing. Both brave and timid.

Jace held back his need to run his hands over each inch of her, afraid he’d overtake her with his own wants and urge her farther than she wanted to go. He settled for laying gentle kisses along the curve of her neck, tasting the sweet salt of her skin and breathing in her heady scent. He could spend all night relishing every nuance of her. Each flavor. Each texture. Each breathy sigh.

Her fingers traced down over his hip, pausing when they brushed the waistband of his boxers. Tentative.

He eased back from kissing her neck and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Hey, we can just kiss. This doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “But what if I want it to be?”

The sweet plea in her tone undid him. Completely and totally decimated the last of his resistance. He put a knuckle beneath her chin and lifted her face to him. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

The lightning flashed outside, revealing the color staining her cheeks. “I want everything with you, but . . . can you take the lead?”

He eased her off him and onto her back, kissing the corner of a mouth that smirked too often and stared into eyes that had seen too much. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

And he did.

Tasting her, touching her. Loving her.

Breaking every rule he’d set for himself and breaking the goddamned law.

But in the beautiful perfection that filled the next few thousand breaths, he didn’t care.

Because sometimes doing the wrong thing was the only thing that felt right.

ONE

Evan Kennedy swigged the last of the tequila from the mini-bottle as her fiancé’s moans of pleasure drifted through the wall behind her. She set the bottle down and sank back onto the bed, curling her pillow around her ears. This was torture—absolute Geneva Convention–worthy stuff. Next time they stayed in a hotel, she would make sure the suite had two bedrooms that didn’t share a wall.

How was she supposed to sleep with that kind of erotic soundtrack in the background? Especially when the only company she had in her room was the hotel’s mini-bar and a subpar selection of cable stations.

The heavy thudding of a headboard banging against the wall started up, rattling the three empty bottles on her bedside table. Oh, the guys were on their game tonight—obviously celebrating the good news they’d all gotten earlier in the evening. No telling how long their show would go on. With a heavy sigh, she threw the comforter off her legs and climbed out of the bed, happy to find she only wavered slightly.

She needed air. Or at least some place where two happy lovers weren’t sharing passionate, wall-rattling sex while she lay in bed alone.

She yanked on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then tucked the last mini-bottle of tequila into her pocket. The bars downstairs would be closed by now, and although she rarely drank, tonight she had the urge to get comfortably numb. She just had to make sure not to run into any of the people here for her and Daniel’s couples’ seminar. That certainly wouldn’t reflect well on the company. And the last thing she felt like doing was getting into a row with Daniel about “professional image.”

After running a brush through her hair, she stepped out of her bedroom and threw one last glance at Daniel’s closed door. The moans had turned to dueling male grunts. Clearly both parties were having a good time. An unexpected pang of sadness hit her in the gut, and her eyes burned as if tears were going to flow.

What in the world? Her hand went to her cheek, but of course no actual tears were there. She never cried. But that burning was the first sign she’d had in years that she was still physically capable of tears.

She shook her head. Maybe it was the tequila.

And the close quarters.

A walk would help.

She shut the door with a soft snick and made her way down to the lobby. As expected, things were quiet. The overnight desk clerk glanced up at her with disinterested eyes. She gave him a quick smile and turned in the opposite direction to head toward the pool and the beach beyond.

She slipped through the exit door, and the warm Gulf breeze wrapped around her, lifting her mood a bit. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, letting it fill her lungs and hoping it would clear her head. But as soon as she opened her eyes again, the glowing swimming pool seemed to tilt in front of her. Whoa. Maybe she had overestimated her liquor tolerance. Three shots of tequila might have been two too many. She grabbed on to the back of a nearby lounge chair to steady herself.

Evan focused on the dark expanse of the Gulf of Mexico in the distance, waiting for the spinning in her head to stop. She just needed to make it to the beach, sit down in the sand, and get her normally iron-clad defenses back in place so she could return upstairs with a smile on her face. She didn’t need the guys seeing her this way. They’d want to sit down and talk about feelings and shit. And really, she just didn’t want to go there. The last thing she needed right now was for Daniel to put on his therapist hat with her.

After a few more fortifying breaths, she straightened her spine and made her way slowly around the edge of the pool and to the wooden stairs that led down to the beach. Almost there. But when she reached for the gate, the latch didn’t give. “What the—?”

She looked down and sighed at the sign attached to the weather-beaten wood. Private Beach—Closed: midnight to 6 a.m. No lifeguard on duty.

“Dammit.”

She stared longingly at the crashing waves, the peaceful solitude of the beach calling to her like a siren song. She peeked over her shoulder at the hotel’s main building. There weren’t any security cameras out here. Who would know? And Daniel had brought a hell of a lot of business to the hotel this weekend with the conference, so even if someone caught her, she doubted they would do more than politely direct her back to her room.

Without giving it more thought, she planted a foot on the lowest railing and draped her other leg over the top, making sure to keep two hands securely on the fence so her head wouldn’t start whirling again. She hoped no one was watching because she was sure she was executing the maneuver with the grace of a walrus, but at least she didn’t topple down the stairs. Score.

After a careful walk down the steps, she kicked off her flip-flops and curled her toes into the cool sand. Ahh, yes, so worth the rule-breaking.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the clouds far off on the horizon blinked with lightning. Damn, she should’ve brought her camera. The new lens she’d bought would’ve been perfect to catch the display. She moved closer to the water, stepping past the rows of hotel lounge chairs and closed umbrellas and not stopping until the spray from the crashing waves hit her face and the taste of salt alighted on her tongue.

The tide pooled around her feet, soaking the bottom of her jeans and sending a little chill through her. She rubbed her arms and glanced down the beach, taking in the deserted shoreline that stretched along the length of South Padre Island. The moonlight had turned the normally colorful view into silver sand and black water, but even in the darkness, she could tell she was alone on her three a.m. adventure.

No surprise there. People didn’t come on vacation to wander around alone half-drunk in the middle of the night. No, the people in those beautifully appointed hotels lining the beach were cuddled up to their loved ones right now, sleeping off a fun day. Or, like Daniel, having crazy monkey sex with their lovers. Lucky bastards.

Normally, that knowledge wouldn’t bother her. She’d made her decisions, had created a good life for herself. For the first time, she was with someone who loved her—even if that love was only platonic. But for some reason, a hollow ache had rooted solidly in her chest tonight. And paired with the heated need that had settled between her thighs after listening to an hour of lovemaking, she was dangerously close to feeling sorry for herself.

Her fists balled. No way. Screw that. The alcohol had to be what was making her feel this way. She just needed to sober up.

She looked down at the water swirling around her ankles. A dunk in the surf would probably snap her into sobriety pretty quickly. But walking back through the hotel in dripping-wet clothes wasn’t exactly wise, especially when she wasn’t supposed to be on the beach in the first place.

She gave the shore another quick scan, then shrugged. Oh, what the hell.

Evan stepped back from the water long enough to shimmy out of her jeans and T-shirt and tossed the clothes where the water’s edge wouldn’t reach. Despite the warm night breeze, her nipples beaded beneath her bra and goose bumps rose on her skin. A little zip of adrenaline went through her. Man, how long had it been since she’d done something like this, stepped outside the lines a little? She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

To hell with the pity party. She was on a gorgeous beach and had the whole damn thing to herself. No more whining. She made her way back toward the waves and took her time submerging herself, determined to enjoy the luxury of owning this little piece of ocean for the night.

The water lapped at her as she moved further into the surf—bathing her legs, sliding up her thighs, soaking her panties. Mmm. The gulf was deliciously warm against her skin, caressing the dormant parts of her to full sensual awareness. Her hands cupped the water and drew it up and over her breasts, soaking her bra and the tightening buds underneath. A shudder went through her.

She wanted to sink into the salty depths and allow the sensations to take over, to wash away the dark emotions that had claimed her tonight. But even in her buzzed state, she knew tequila and swimming weren’t good bedfellows. So, she stopped when the waves crested at her chest and settled in to watch the light show on the horizon.

The distant storm had moved a bit closer, and though it still wasn’t near enough to be a threat, the view of the flashing sky was breathtaking. She wanted to kick herself for not bringing her camera. She’d had so little time for her photography since she’d gone on this seminar tour with Daniel she was beginning to worry she’d forgotten how to do it. Hopefully, when they returned to Dallas after this last stop, she could dedicate some time to her neglected studio.

With a sigh, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and dipped her hair into the water. Maybe that’s why she was in such a funk. She’d spent the last few months supporting Daniel’s passion and ignoring hers. She’d signed up for it, and the venture had turned out to be lucrative for them both, but it definitely didn’t feed the part of her soul that slipping behind a camera did. That part was downright starved.

Thunder rumbled closer this time. Reluctantly, she drifted back a few feet. It was probably time to get out. The alcohol-induced fog in her head was clearing, and based on the sudden uptick in wind, the storm would be on top of her in the next few minutes. But before she could take another step, pain—sharp and sudden—shot up her thigh.

She yelped and jolted backward, her arms flailing before she crashed into the water and went under. Saltwater filled her mouth, silencing her shout, and a burning sensation wrapped around her thigh and radiated outward.

Disoriented, she scrambled for solid footing, trying to get back to the surface. She knew she couldn’t have fallen into deep water, but the writhing pain and the knowledge that she was out there alone had panic edging in. She spread her arms in an attempt to tread water and finally felt sand against her toes. But just as she tried to push off, twin bands of heat wrapped around her upper arms and her entire body was propelled upward.

When her face broke the surface of the water, she sucked in a large gulp of air, half-coughing, half-choking. She kicked frantically, trying to make sure she didn’t get dragged back under.

“Stop fighting or you’re going to drown us both.” The rumbling male voice came from behind her, and the grip on her arms tightened. “We’ve got to get out of the undertow.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, but she forced herself to stop struggling so the stranger could help. His breath was warm on her neck as he pulled them both backward, but he didn’t say another word. The water seemed to be fighting their progress, and the man adjusted his hold until he had his arms hooked beneath her armpits. She wanted to tell him to let her go, that she knew how to swim, but her thigh was burning like a swarm of wasps had attacked it and her head was spinning again.

A few hard-fought minutes later, packed sand scraped against her heels, and she sucked in a deep sigh of relief. The man dragged her another few feet until they reached dry land, then set her down and kneeled next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his broad chest heaving beneath his soaked T-shirt.

She lifted her gaze to the concerned eyes staring down at her, an odd sense of déjà vu washing over her. “I, uh . . .”

“I heard you scream. Are you hurt?” He touched the side of her head, evaluating her.

She wet her lips. “My leg . . . Something stung me . . . I lost my balance.”

He glanced down the length of her—the mostly naked length of her. Shit. She shot up into a sitting position and scooted backward, but his hand locked over her knee as he stared down at her upper thigh, which was still burning like she’d roasted it over an open fire.

“Damn, it got you good.”

“What are you talking about?” She tried to jerk her leg from beneath his grip, but he held her firm as he examined her.

“Jellyfish,” he said, frowning at her. “Your whole thigh is striped. That must hurt like a sonofabitch.”

She stared down at the red tentacle-shaped lines around her thigh. “Well, it doesn’t feel awesome.”

He chuckled, the rich sound seeming to vibrate from deep within his chest, and something stirred in the back of her brain. He climbed to his feet. “Here, let me help.”

“Don’t you dare pee on me,” she said, the words slipping out before she could rethink them.

He tilted his head back in a full laugh this time, the sound echoing down the beach.

She cringed. “I’m sorry, I—”