Chapter Five #2
She didn’t understand. Didn’t know about the darkness he could so often feel inside of himself.
A fury that grew to a chilling degree. A twisted hate that had festered for the scientists and doctors in that godforsaken lab.
And earlier, when she’d been with Blane and the sheriff had been touching her, jealousy had burned within John.
Dark emotions seemed to thrive within him. “I’m not so sure I am good.”
Her smile stretched. “Then I’ll have to prove to you that you are.” Her fingers slid up his arm. Paused at his shoulder. “This is the second shirt that a bullet has ruined.”
Two for two.
“Why don’t you go ahead and shower off the blood? I’ll get you a towel.” She backed away.
Retreated.
He stood there, aware of the fire crackling behind him. He watched as she turned and headed toward the darkened hallway. “We aren’t going to talk about it?”
She stilled. “It?”
“The kiss. The fact that I got one taste of you and nearly went mad because I wanted so much more. I still want more. I’m staring at you right now, and I want to touch you. Want to taste you.”
She raised her hand, pressing it against the wall. “What if there’s someone else out there for you?”
“There isn’t.” He was absolutely certain of that.
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze finding his.
“There is only you.” He knew that, deep in his bones.
But she looked away. “I-I’ll get that towel.” And she ran from him.
That was okay, though. They were alone in the cabin. Wasn’t like he couldn’t find her. Wasn’t like she could escape.
***
Put down the towel and walk away.
Shelly paused outside of the guest bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and tendrils of steam snaked into the hallway. Water thundered from inside, and she knew that John was already in the shower. She should just slide her hand inside, put the towel on the sink and hurry away.
That was absolutely what she should do.
And she would do it.
She rapped on the door and raised her voice. “John! I’ve got a towel. I’m just going to put it on the sink.” She slipped her hand inside, fumbling around and then—then warm, strong fingers curled around her wrist.
The door had opened fully. More steam slid out, wrapping around her.
John was there. Clad only in the jeans that hung low on his hips. His face was cut into hard, determined lines, and his eyes glittered.
“Wanted to bring it to you—um, the towel, I mean.” She tried tugging on her wrist. He didn’t let her go. “I’ll be in the den if you need me.”
“I do.”
He still hadn’t let her go.
He had taken the towel and tossed it aside. His fingers slid along her inner wrist and the soft caress had her breath coming faster.
“I do need you, Shelly. You’ve been in more fantasies than I can count. I need you. I want you. Let’s both be very clear about that.”
Her heart was racing too fast.
Only…he let her go. “But you’re still scared of me. And I hate that. I’ll say it a thousand times, I’ll never hurt you. You can trust me.”
They’d just met. They’d—
“You say I’m a good man. You think I am. Baby, I can be so good to you. I can give you so much pleasure. Just give me the chance.”
Oh, wow.
His hands fell to the snap of his jeans. “The shower is more than big enough for two.”
Yes, yes it was. But…
If I cross this line…She was very much afraid of what would happen.
Not afraid of him. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the way she’d absolutely lost control with his kiss.
One kiss wasn’t supposed to make her ignite that way.
One kiss wasn’t supposed to send her body flying into overdrive.
One kiss wasn’t supposed to make her go wild.
But it had.
He had.
She hurried out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut as she exited.
Then she just stood in the hallway, trying to get her composure back.
She wasn’t used to men like John. Men who just said what they wanted.
No games. Men who were so strong and dominant.
The closest she’d come to someone like him…
that had been Blane. And they’d sure crashed and burned as lovers.
Would she crash and burn with John? Even if she did, would the pleasure be worth it? Because judging by the way the man could kiss, she was sure he’d be one hell of a lover.
Her hand rose and pressed to the wood of the bathroom door. All she had to do was go inside.
There was no one there to judge. Just her. Just John.
She wanted him. He wanted her.
So why was she hesitating? Why not take the risk? Why not take him?
Get a grip, Shelly. She was running on adrenaline.
That was it. Her emotions were out of control, and she just needed to calm the hell down.
Shelly hurried away from the bathroom and returned to the den.
She’d kicked off her shoes when she first arrived at the cabin, and now she sat on the rug before the fire, curling her bare feet beneath her.
She stared at the flames and she tried very, very hard to get her much needed grip.
***
He watched the cabin. Saw the lights shining from inside. Caught the scent of the smoke drifting on the breeze. Shelly Hampton was in that cabin. His target. But she wasn’t alone.
That damn bastard was with her. The fool who should have been dead. The guy was getting in his way. Screwing things up.
He’d worked too long and too hard for screw-ups. His rifle was on the ground beside him, but it was useless right then. He didn’t have a shot. He didn’t see anyone near the windows. For all he knew, Shelly and the bastard were fucking somewhere in the cabin.
He reached into his boot. Pulled out a knife. The same knife he’d used on her brother. He’d never killed anyone with a knife before. Not until Charles Hampton. But it had been surprisingly easy. And it had felt…
Personal. Only fair, really. The kill had been personal. Exactly what you fucking deserved.
Maybe he’d use the knife on Shelly, too. Give her what she deserved.
But first, he’d have to get rid of her protection. The asshole who thought he could play hero.
Wrong move. The hero was going to get a swift trip straight to hell.