Breathless Descent (Texas Hotzone 3)

She opened her mouth to ask him why he’d stopped her, but he lifted her to her feet and kissed her. He tasted of a man on the edge—of wild, untamed passion. Of desire barely contained. And she knew what it had cost him, not to let her finish him.

He pressed her against the wall, his hand sliding up her body, over her breast. Water, no longer hot, but warm, sprayed over their bodies, as he lifted her leg and pressed inside her, thrusting hard and deep.

Shay gasped as pleasure flooded her senses, and she clung to him, finding herself pinned in his hot stare as he said, “We’re going to come together, just like we’re going to face the family together this afternoon.” He thrust again, stroking her into a whimper, before he demanded agreement. “Okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, okay. Together.” And before she could start thinking about what might go wrong with that plan, he took her away, to a place where together felt really good and sleep didn’t matter.

13

CALEB PARKED HIS TRUCK in front of Shay’s parents’ place with Shay sitting uncomfortably on the opposite side of the truck, instead of by his side. He’d made her ride by his side until a few blocks away, not ready to play this game of not being together. But he didn’t have a choice, and he knew that.

He wanted it over. And he wanted this to be it—the last time. By the time Shay’s parents were back from Italy, he wanted their relationship to be public, and he intended to do everything he could to convince Shay of the same. If—and it was a big “if” as far as he was concerned—they decided this relationship didn’t work, then at least they could stop dancing around each other. Either way, they would have resolution.

“I feel like they’re going to know,” Shay admitted, as he killed the engine.

“If they didn’t know yesterday, when we were about to explode with sexual tension, they won’t know today,” he said, and then pointed. Her mother was coming out the front door directing her father, as he rolled a bag toward Kent’s truck. “They’re excited and nervous. They aren’t going to be paying us any attention.” He discreetly reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. “Let’s get this behind us.”

She nodded, drew a deep breath and exhaled before reaching for her door handle. Shay immediately rushed toward her parents, and he tried not to notice the way the light denim of her jeans hugged the sweet curve of her backside, the same one his hand had hugged less than an hour before. The slight expansion around his zipper region had Caleb slowing his pace, in no rush to join the chaos of pretravel jitters.

Kent shoved the screen door open and sauntered in Caleb’s direction, trying to act nonchalant, but the stiff set of his jaw said he was far from relaxed. Kent’s early obsessions with the racetrack had apparently been foreshadowing the future, a fear Caleb had begun to nurse on a visit several years back. This wasn’t the first time Kent had asked him for money, and he still hadn’t seen the return of the first loan. Not that he was biting at the bit to get it back. He had money. He was more concerned over the fact that Kent didn’t have the money to return, and what that said about their suspicions of a gambling problem.

Kent stopped beside him, placing his back to the family. “Mom’s making Dad crazy, she’s so afraid of forgetting something,” he laughed, but the sound was strained.

“They’ll be fine once they get on the plane,” Caleb said, and motioned to the house. “Let’s go inside.”

Kent nodded, and they walked in silence until they stood in the kitchen. Caleb tossed an envelope of cash on the island counter and then leaned on the counter, hands behind him. Kent snatched it up and stuffed it in his pocket, as if he feared it would be seen.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “I know I owe you, and I’ll pay you back. I have a bonus coming at the end of the year.”

Caleb noted the smudges under Kent’s eyes, the jerkiness of his movements. “You got the gambling bug pretty bad, don’t you?”

Kent shoved his hands in his pockets and laughed. “I was gambling with Dad, Caleb.”

“Last night,” he said. “And still you lost your backside instead of walking away.”

“It was Dad! He egged me on, and I didn’t want to say no.”

“You got a bookie?”

“Caleb, man,” he said.

“Do you have a bookie, Kent?”

“I’m a single guy with no responsibility.”

“So, you do.”

Kent scrubbed his jaw. “I don’t have a problem if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You don’t have a dime to your name, Kent.”

“I’m in a slump,” he said. “My end-of-the-year bonus will fix that.”