Page 30 of Texas Kissing

As I drove away, I saw him emerge from the stable and stand watching me, lit up by the red glow of my tail lights. He didn’t yell or curse, just stood there staring at me. As if he knew I’d be back.

As if he knew me better than I knew myself.

I glanced down at myself, taking stock. My jeans were still unbuttoned. My bra was unfastened and dangling from my breasts. I’d gotten three buttons of my blouse fastened, but only one of them was in the correct hole. My cheeks were flushed and my whole body was throbbing with tormented, desperate sexual heat.

Goddamn that man, for tempting me into it.

Goddamnmefor running away.

I slammed the heel of my hand into the steering wheel. Goddamn my uncle, for putting me in this nightmare in the first place.

22

Lily

The next morning, I was up early to go running.

I have an uneasy relationship with exercise. For weeks and weeks, I’ll do none, while a little voice in my head whispers, louder and louder, that I really need to get off my ass. Finally, to shut it up, I go for a run. At which point, I remember how much I hate running. But then afterwards, I get that brief, satisfied glow—for an hour or a day, Iloverunning.I’ll do this every day,I tell myself. And then I don’t...and after a few weeks the cycle starts again.

Given the heat, running in Texas means getting up early. This has the added advantage that very few people are around to see me in running gear. My usual route is down the dried-up creek bed, towards the hills, then looping back to the bus along a disused farm track. At first, I used to carry a Taser. After a year of never running into anything more threatening than a lizard, I stopped.

There was another reason to go running that morning, though. I was due to meet with a new clientand I wanted a clear head. Specifically, I wanted to clear my head ofBull.

It wasn’t easy, though. Every impact of my trail shoes on the hard-packed dirt sent a little shockwave up my legs and into my brain, and the rhythm was disconcertingly similar to the night before. The way I’d arched and ground against him. The way he’d taken my nipple into his mouth—

Shut up!I pounded along the creek, trying to go faster, hoping that that would help.

You like that?

His hands on my breasts. That thick thumb pushing between my lips.

My legs went faster still, my muscles burning.

You’re a bad girl when you get going—

Shut up!

—aren’t you, Lily?

It was impossible. Dangerous. No matter how big and strong he was, if he got involved with me there was a good chance he’d wind up dead.

It wasn’t just the danger I lived with, but the danger a relationship would bring. Avoidinghaving a lifeis exactly how I stayed off the radar. I couldn’t even have a Facebook page. How the hell could I have a boyfriend?

I was panting hard, sweat trickling down the back of my sports top. I’d tied my hair back into a tight ponytail in some sort of unconscious effort to take control and be ruthless and efficient. But beneath my jogging shorts, the flex and push of my hips was rhythmically rubbing things, making me painfully aware of just how out of control I was.

Damn him. Damn him, with his muscles and that smile and—

Goddamnit!

I reached the end of the creek and started back along the farm track. Sweat was trickling down my forehead and my upper chest gleamed with it. My boobs—difficult to control even with a sports bra—ached and heaved. That was all normal. The fact that my nipples were hard wasn’t. I could feel them pressing into the soft fabric, yearning for the rougher touch of his fingers. God, his hands were sobig.If they slid underneath me and gripped my ass, squeezing my cheeks, I’d feel like I was just completelyin his hands;he’d just scoop me up off the bed, opening me up, and—

Shut up!

I staggered to a stop and bent over, huffing for breath. It was impossible. I couldn’t get him out of my head—the more I tried, the more he was there, strong and arrogant and larger than life. And it wasn’t just the sex. There was something even more disturbing, underneath that. The memory of that horse ride and the way he’d looked at me a few times, especially as the sun had gone down. A different kind of intimacy, one that maybe I needed even more.

Thatwas the real reason I couldn’t be with him. Even if I could somehow enjoy a one-time roll in the hay and then walk away—and I wasn’t sure I could—it already felt like more than that. Which was nuts, because if there was one thing I’d learned from seeing him in Lucky Pete’s and reading his Facebook page, it was that Bull didn’t fall for anyone—he was a rutting, pumping sex machine, and that was it. Why on earth would I think he might develop feelings for me? Because I liked him in that way myself? A thousand slimmer, prettier girls probably thought the samething.I’ll be the one he falls for.

I snorted in contempt at myself. And then gave a hard little laugh. Looking down at myself, all sweat and curves, the idea was ridiculous.