Renegade Hearts (The Kinnison Legacy Book 3) (10 page)

The realization that he’d been her one last fling came like a sucker punch to his gut. He’d always been the one in control of his affairs, calling the shots, causing the heartbreak. It was a blow to his pride. That’s how he chose to look at it in the final analysis. Had she broken his heart? Was that what all this was about? Jesus. He fervently wished there was a Scrabble board, Chinese checkers, even a damn deck of cards in this cabin.

“I’m sorry, Dalton. What happened was my fault. I coerced you, and it wasn’t fair.”

He stared into the fire, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t remember being an unwilling participant, Angel.”

“So it meant nothing.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I didn’t say that.”

“If it did then why didn’t you say something? Why did you just let me go?”

He dropped to his knee, busied himself with poking at the fire as he searched for an answer that made any sense. “You were headed back to your life in Chicago.” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Maybe you didn’t want to be tied down,” she offered.

He stood and looked at her. “Maybe that’s true, but I’m not the man I was back then.”

She held his gaze. “No, I don’t think you are. I’m not the same either. I’ve been through some things, Dalton. I’ve made some poor choices. I’m in no position to pronounce judgments on anyone. I’m sorry for what I said about your drinking.” She held her hands clasped in her lap.

An old transistor radio sat on the cabinet in the kitchen. It was used mainly for weather, and he wasn’t even sure if the batteries inside still worked. He went over and turned it on, grimacing at the amount of static he found as he turned the dial. Then Garth Brooks filled the silence in the room with a song about a man who’d do anything for the woman he loved.
“I’m shameless.”

He shoved the coffee table aside and held out his hand to her. “You’ve got to get past this idea of being afraid of me, Angel.”

Her reach hesitated midway to his. “I’m not--”

He grabbed her hand and gently brought her to her feet. They stood toe-to-toe as he watched her eyes slowly lift to his. “I’m not going to hurt you. But you need to know that ever since you’ve been back, I’ve been fighting my attraction to you. Something happened that night. I’m no saint, and I don’t pretend to be one. I think you already know that.”

“I’ve heard you have a reputation,” she offered with a hint of a smile.

She allowed him to draw her closer, to circle his arm around her waist as they began to move to the music. “No one has plagued my sleep like you have.” It felt good to admit it, to get it out in the open. Where it would take them, he didn’t know, didn’t care. Right now, he was content to have her snuggled up warm against him, dancing slow on the old braided rug. His body heated at her touch and he pulled her closer.

She looked up at him. “Did you mean what you said about plaguing your sleep?”

He cupped her face and smiled, realizing how his hands trembled. Gliding his thumb over her bottom lip, he imagined how she’d taste, the need in her kisses, the need that had been building inside of him since she arrived. He searched her eyes. “I meant every word. But if you don’t feel the same, if you aren’t ready for this, you need to stop me right now.”

***

“I have a confession to make.” She watched his mouth close in, his eyes searching hers.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well since that kiss behind the barn.”

“It was pretty hot.” His warm breath teased her lips, causing her to reach on her tiptoes to meet him. She clung to his shirtsleeves, taking as much as giving to a kiss that drugged her senses.

So much she wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, before they went any further. “Dalton,” she sighed, tilting her head to accommodate his mouth blazing fire on her skin. His mouth expertly diverted her attention as he peeled the hoodie from her shoulders and unsnapped her shirt. Turning, he sat on the couch and pulled her to his lap, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. When at last he let her come up for air, he held her gaze as he unhooked her bra, tossing it aside with her shirt.

Needing to feel his hard flesh to hers, she tugged off his shirt and reached for his waistband. With a wicked smile, he covered her hand with his.

“I want your nights to be as tormented as you’ve made mine.” He held her gaze, releasing her face as he slowly slid his hands down over her breasts. Caressing, his mouth followed, sending heat to her core.

She arched against him an ache throbbing deep inside her.

“I want to see all of you, Angel,” he whispered as he held her face from another mind-blowing kiss.

She stood and pulled him to his feet. With the steady thrum of the rain on the roof, they undressed each other between unhurried kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said building a slow-burning need with his gentle caresses, his mouth that trailed fire over her body.

This patient side of him was unexpected. Angelique needed this, needed him. Overwhelmed by his tenderness, she surrendered to him, guiding him as he left a trail of fire down her body, between her thighs. The pure intimacy of the moment caused a gasp to escape her lips. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, soothing. It had been forever since she felt so loved, protected.

“Just happy,” she answered with a wobbly smile.

“Aw, sweetheart.” He leaned down brushing his lips to hers, and pushed into her igniting the fire that had been building between them. She met each thrust, her gaze locked with his as they drove each other. She had no delusions, willing to accept whatever he gave her. Her body shattered and she clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around him as his body shuddered and he followed her over on his own release.

He kissed her gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Angelique took a cleansing breath, and laying a hand over her heart, used the other to draw a quilt over her nakedness. Her body sated, she tempered her joy with caution, reminding herself that sex with Dalton was amazing, but that so much more was at stake. She couldn’t afford the emotional toll of sacrificing her heart to someone who needed saving, who would take her trust, her heart, and toss it away when they were done. Though she felt a measure of guilt in her cynical view, it was trust—in him and in her emotions—that prevented her from telling him the truth about Emilee.

A few moments later, he returned, crawled beneath the blanket, and drew to his side, draping his arm around her. Together, they sat in silence staring into the fire.

“I have a confession,” he said, kissing her temple.

She looked up at his profile and wondered for an instant what it would be like to wake to that each morning. She snuggled closer, breathing in his warm scent, wishing this moment would go on forever. That the secrets, the lies of omission, didn’t matter. That they could truly be happy like this.

“I saw you once way back in high school. I was driving that old truck that Jed made all of us share.” He chuckled low. “I was late for doing chores and took the shortcut past your uncle’s farm. You were flying across the field riding some coal-black horse, as if you were being chased by demons. It stopped my heart, not kidding. One of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. You didn’t see me, but I damn near put my truck in the ditch that night watching you.”

“Stop it.” She nudged his arm.

“Damn impressive, I thought to myself. That was the first time I think I noticed you.”

“And here all this time I thought I was invisible to you.”

He smiled. “Hey, I was an upperclassman. Was I going to admit that a girl I knew in middle school was
kinda
cute?”

“
Kinda
cute?” she repeated sitting up straighter to look him in the eye.

He lifted the quilt and offered her a wicked grin. “A cute girl who grew up nicely, by the way, and in all the right places, I might add.”

She snatched the covering and raised her brow.

“Go ahead, it’s your turn.”

Angelique eyed him in surprise. “My turn? What do you mean, my turn?”

“Come on, I heard that maybe you had a bit of a crush on me back then.”

She shrugged. “Oh,
that
. I guess I thought you were
kinda
cute. But my Aunt Rebecca would have locked me in my room if she thought anything would come of it.”

His smile dissolved. “What do you think she’d say now?”

Angelique met his solemn gaze. This was no longer a teenage crush. He just didn’t know it yet. As much as what they’d shared meant to her, the reality was that they had only begun to get to know each other again. Still, the look on his face made her realize the importance of her response. She touched her hand to his cheek. “She believes you’re a good man, a hard worker, and that you love your family very much.” She repeated what her aunt had said about Dalton when she’d asked how Angelique felt about him.

As though reading her mind, he held her gaze. “And what do you see?”

She searched his eyes, absentmindedly chewing the corner of her lip.

He brushed an errant wisp of hair from her eyes. “You do that when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“I put you on the spot. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s not that.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m not sure you’re ready for what I have to say.”

He straightened slightly as though preparing for the worst. An unwelcome chill separated them. “Go on. Whatever you have to say, just say it.” The guard he used to keep pain at bay went up.

“Dalton, please. It’s nothing bad. I just don’t know how you’ll react.”

The coldness in his expression softened. “Try me.”

She was attracted to him. Clearly, they had the physical thing down, but could she trust him with her heart?

“Angel?” He held her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “Do you want me to tell you what I see?”

She nodded. “You know, you’re the one only who’s ever called me that.” Her smile wobbled.

He shifted, framing her face with his hands. “I see a beautiful, vibrant woman whose success has come from a lot of hard work and, I suspect, a lot of heartache. I’m not looking to hurt you, Angel. I want this—whatever it is—to work out between us.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Dalton brushed it away with this thumb followed by a chaste kiss.

She covered his hand. “Dalton,” she said quietly, even as he continued to place soft kisses on her eyes, her nose, her lips. Her thoughts grew muddled, lost in his tenderness. How many times had she fantasized him like this? Even after their night together. Even when she believed that they had no future and she’d settled for Tony. Fear of what Tony put her through, of how he’d almost killed her and Emilee surfaced, and she began to tremble. “Hold me, please. Just…hold me.”

“Sssshh, it’s okay, Angel.” He stretched out on the couch, pulling her to his side. “I can do that.” Tucking her under his arm, he brushed her shoulder as he cradled her body to his. She rested her cheek on his chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart. “Just rest, sweetheart. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Residual fear gave way to fatigue and as her eyes drifted shut, Dalton’s heartbeat and the rain on the roof melded as one.

***

The lawyer for the defense was a sour-faced man. His beady grey eyes and thin-lipped mouth positioned themselves into a smirk as the jury foreman stood to read the verdict.

“On charges of secondary manslaughter, robbery, and kidnapping—guilty.”

The judge gave a sentence of more than fifty years in the State Penitentiary. There’d been no appeal. Tony hadn’t wanted one. He glanced over his shoulder as they led him away. His gaze found hers across the crowded courtroom and the corner of his lip curled in a sneer as if to say, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Angel, sweetheart, wake up. It’s only a dream, honey. You were dreaming.”

She sat up, confused at first. Wherever she was, it was pitch black except for the rays of a full moon shining a swath of light across the dark room.

“Are you okay?”

A hand touched her arm and she nearly leapt from her skin.

“It’s me, Dalton, sweetheart. You’re at my cabin, remember?”

Dragged from a deep sleep, she struggled to free herself over bare limbs and the confines of the quilt as her thoughts swirled. She needed to stand on her own two feet. “I’m…I’m okay.” Her body was cold, and she felt clammy. Her heart still raced with the thunder of wild horses.

“You’re safe, Angel.”

She saw him in the shadows moving to the kitchen where he relit one of the lamps. Her breathing steadier now, she recognized the symptoms of the panic attack. She’d not had one in several months. Remembering her dream, she snatched up her clothes and held them to cover her nakedness. “Did I say anything…in my sleep?”

He reached out, but didn’t come closer. She couldn’t blame him for being cautious. “Only mumbling. Do you remember anything?”

Too clearly. Even now, she remembered the murderous look in Tony’s eyes. Only her aunt and uncle knew the truth. Everyone else, including Dalton, believed her husband was dead. To her, he was as good as dead the moment he tried to drive off with Emilee. She knew she’d have done whatever was necessary to protect her daughter—then and now. No one in Chicago with the exception of her lawyer knew where she’d gone. Not once in four years, since their divorce was final, had she heard from Tony.