Chapter Four #2
“The sheriff doesn’t want me near you.” He stopped at the corner of the street, his gaze sweeping over the buildings.
They were all nestled side by side, and bright, festive holiday lights decorated the exterior of the shops.
Sunset was just sweeping over the mountains, but those lights were already shining brightly.
Wreaths hung on the doors, and Christmas music played from nearby speakers.
The snow had stopped falling, but a light coat of white dusted the town.
“Blane is suspicious of you.” Shelly pulled her coat closer to her body. “He has cause, don’t you think?”
She was shivering. He took off his coat—a coat she’d bought him—and wrapped it around her.
Shelly had picked up far too many clothes for him, and it had made him uncomfortable when she paid for them.
But he didn’t have any money. A man with no past—hell, he’d been so happy to escape that he hadn’t even thought about how he’d survive in the world.
He’d been scraping by while he tracked down Shelly.
Picking up odd jobs, but he’d need more. He’d need—
“Thank you,” she gave him a quick smile as she seemed to sink into his coat.
His heart warmed a bit. Her smile did strange things to him.
The wind blew and a lock of her hair slid over her cheek.
Without thinking, his hand lifted and he brushed her hair back.
But then his fingers lingered against her cheek.
They were so close. She smelled so good.
She was real, not some dream, and he’d never wanted anything more.
She didn’t back away. He heard her breath catch, and he felt her edge a bit closer to him. He wanted to slip into her mind. To see what she was thinking, to see if maybe, maybe she wanted him, too. If she wanted a kiss. Something so simple.
John was sure he’d kissed women before. Sure he’d had lovers. But he didn’t remember them. And he wanted to know what a kiss with Shelly—he wanted to know what that would feel like.
“I shouldn’t…” Her voice was quiet. Husky. Sexy.
He started to back away from her.
But Shelly’s hands rose. They pressed to his chest. “I shouldn’t want you this way. This much. It’s not quite normal, is it?”
Now he laughed. The sound was too rough. “What do I know about normal?”
“You’re a stranger, and I should be afraid. Blane’s right. I shouldn’t trust you.”
As far as John was concerned, Blane could go screw himself.
“But you touch me, and something happens.” Her voice stroked over his skin. “My whole body tightens. And I yearn. I need.”
Was the woman trying to bring him to his knees? “I want to kiss you.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
And she still wasn’t backing away. The music was playing around them. Christmas lights were flickering behind her. The whole scene—it was so different from the life he’d known in that hell of a lab. It was like a dream.
No, she was the dream.
“I want to kiss you, too,” Shelly confessed.
With those words, she sealed both of their fates.
“What could a kiss hurt?” Shelly asked as she rose onto her toes. “Just a kiss.”
His hand slid under her chin, and his head lowered toward her. His whole body was tight as he put a stranglehold on his control. His lips pressed to hers. A soft, light kiss. Gentle. Sweet.
And then her lips parted. Her tongue slid against his lips.
And his control cracked.
Not just cracked—shattered.
He pulled her closer. Held her tighter. His tongue thrust into her mouth.
He tasted her and felt drunk. Desperate.
She gave a little moan in the back of her throat, and the sound made him wilder.
His cock shoved against the front of his jeans, fully erect and eager—just from her kiss.
He was kissing her harder, deeper, and he didn’t want to stop.
Desire had exploded within him, and he wanted so much more.
He lifted her up because he needed to be closer.
He turned, holding her easily, and he caged her against the bricks of a nearby building.
His mouth didn’t leave hers. Her nails sank into his shoulders, and her body arched against him.
They were on a street, people were around them, and he didn’t care.
He had what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to let her go.
One kiss.
Yes, she’d sealed both their fates.
He wanted—
The whistle reached him. The fast, hard rush of air. The same sound that he’d heard on that damn mountain road. The whistle of wind that shouldn’t be there.
A bullet. Coming for my Shelly.
He jerked her to the side, shoving them both to the ground.
“John! What—”
The bullet sank into the bricks above them, sending chunks raining down. He was on top of Shelly, shielding her with his body, so nothing hit her.
Another shot was fired. There was no crack of the gun deploying because the shooter was smart. Too fucking smart. This shot was closer, but it missed them, sinking into the bricks again.
People were nearby on the street. A mother and son holding hands. John realized they could walk straight into the line of fire.
“Stay down,” he told Shelly. “Down.” Then he ran for the mother and son, grabbing them even as the mother screamed.
Another bullet whistled through the air, he could practically feel it—and it was coming for him. The shooter was aiming for him.
This time, he was the target, not Shelly.
He picked up the mother and her child, rushing them away from the open street and toward the side of the building even as he felt a burn across his shoulder.
People were screaming. Voices were rising.
He put the mother and child down next to Shelly. Shelly’s eyes were wide, scared. “John? John, you’re bleeding!”
He didn’t hear the whistle of another bullet coming toward him. He looked back, judging the wind, trajectory…figuring out where the bastard must have been. Close by. “I’m getting him.” Keeping his body low, John rushed away from her.
“John!” Shelly yelled.
The boy started crying.
“John!”
And he moved as fast as he could, knowing that he had to stop the bastard before anyone was hurt.