Sand Angel (4 page)

Sorrow and a good dose of guilt washed over him as he heard the water stop. Zoë shouldn’t be living like this. She should be married with a home and a couple of kids—his kids.

Where the thought came from, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the senseless deaths he’d seen in Iraq. Knowing that many lovers, husbands and wives lost someone special and for what? Maybe it was the emptiness he felt in his own life. He brushed his fingers through his hair.

Damn. He sure fucked up both their lives.

The door squeaked as she exited the bathroom. A little blue towel wrapped around her body, another turbaned around her head. She hadn’t noticed him as she headed for the small closet. As she bent to pick something up, the towel inched higher. Drew leaned forward to catch a glance at the softness between her thighs.

A knot formed in his throat as his cock jerked to attention. Hunger built like a raging river. It took every ounce of control not to go to her, not to take her down to the floor and part those long legs. The thought of how hot and wet she would be had his mouth watering to taste her.

A flare of anger sparked as he remembered the backend of the trailer was wide open and everyone and their dog could see her blessed body. He moved quickly to block her from anyone’s view. The shuffling of his boots startled her.

A tight breath squeezed from her lungs as she spun around. Her gaze rolled to the ceiling when she saw him. “What the hell are you doing in here?” She gripped the towel around her like it was a shield.

With slow, wide steps he began to close the distance between them. “We need to talk.”

Her shoulders rose and fell on a huff. “There’s nothing to talk about, Drew. Just give it a rest.” Sadness filled her reddened eyes.

Had she been crying?

He squared his shoulders. “Zoë, I wrote.” His gaze swept across her face, down her slender throat to where the tops of her breasts were exposed. He watched a bead of water disappear between them. He wanted to follow the drop of water with his tongue, taste every inch of her skin.

“Yeah. Mom said you did.” She glanced over his shoulder. “I should have closed that door or at least pulled the curtain.” There was a plastic curtain looped and tied at each side of the opening.

“Why didn’t you read my letters? Why didn’t you write?” God, he wanted to touch her, but her body was ramrod straight. The frown on her face said she wasn’t open to any of his advances.

“Why? You said it all when you left.” Her tongue darted across her full lips. “Now if you’ll get lost, I’ll get dressed.”

“No.” He reached for her, fingers closing around her arm, as she tried to turn away from him.

Surprise lit her eyes. She stared at his hand. Then pinned him with a scowl. “No?”

“Not until you listen to me.”

The muscles in her jaws tightened. “You have nothing to say I want to hear.” Her voice shook. A flush of color dotted her cheeks. “Just get out of here.” The rise in her voice must have drawn Josh’s attention, because he appeared in the doorway.

“Everything okay?” her brother asked.

She cocked a brow. “No, it isn’t. He won’t leave.”

“Drew?” Josh took a step up the ramp.

“Back out and shut that damn ramp.” The warning in Drew’s hoarse voice fell on deaf ears. Josh took another step toward them. Desperation was building fast inside Drew. He’d fight Josh if he had to, but he wasn’t leaving until he had his say.

Worry wrinkles creased Josh’s forehead. Indecision warred in the depths of his brown eyes as he looked at Zoë. “Sis. This has to stop, before something happens to you.” He pinned Drew with a stern glare. “Hurt her again and I’ll kill you.” There was an eerie softness in his tone that left no doubt he meant it. Gone was the casual camaraderie they had shared. He turned to his sister again. “Zoë?”

She was trembling. Hot daggers flew from her eyes as she glared at Drew.

“Zoë!” Josh repeated sternly.

“Okay,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “The good old boy’s club is alive and well even in this Godforsaken place.” She tossed Josh a look that would have killed a weaker man.

Josh backed out, but not before giving Drew one last warning glare. Slowly he raised the ramp. It shut with a solid thud as Josh slid one and then the other lock in place.

Fingers curled into fists, Zoë turned away from Drew. “Say it and then get out of here.”

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He didn’t want her filled with fury. “Look at me, Zoë.” He reached to guide her chin toward him and was greeted with a sharp slap as she knocked his hand away. Another attempt ended with the same result as she skirted around him.

She was breathing hard. Her rigid stance dared him to try again. The towel on her head had worked free. Long, wet hair draped across her shoulders, resting at the bend of her elbows. She looked wild, untamed.

Something snapped. The single thread of control Drew held vanished.

He lunged.

Quick and unhampered by the heavy, unbendable boots he wore, she dodged him. In the confined space there was no place to go, except through the side door and outside.

She wouldn’t escape him that easily. As she ran past him, he caught her wrist. She swung the free one, striking him hard against the cheek with her fist.

“Shit!” That stung.

Then her fingers folded around the doorknob. He blinked as he got a handful of towel.

“You wouldn’t,” she breathed.

“Release the knob, Zoë.”

The squeak of the knob sounded as she twisted it.

He yanked the towel free, revealing every inch of her glorious body.

She spun around and attacked. The impact was so great that it knocked him backward. His hand jutted out, catching her arm. They both fell. He twisted so that he took the brunt of the fall, pulling her atop him as they landed on the floor.

Like a wildcat, she scratched and clawed.

Before she could do either of them damage, he rolled her naked body beneath him. It wasn’t easy, but finally he got her wrists together and pinned above her head. Her breathing was erratic. Succulent breasts rose and fell rapidly.

“Get off me.” Her struggles quieted by the weight of his body. “Drew—”

He silenced her with a kiss and was rewarded with a fierce bite to his lower lip. He jerked back, tasting blood—his own. “You play dirty, baby.” He used his knee to wedge between her naked thighs.

“I don’t play at all. Now get off me.”

He had never seen her angry before, never seen the fire that burned in her soul like it did at this moment. It made him hot. With a dip of his head he took her rosy nipple into his hot, wet mouth.

Her breath audibly caught. A throaty whimper followed. “Stop.” The one word was filled with desperation. “Drew. Stop.”

But he didn’t—couldn’t.

The flesh in his mouth was soft, her nipple hard against his tongue. Small bumps rose around the swollen nub as he licked around and around it. Slowly, he worked his knee against the apex of her thighs, rubbing.

She tasted so good. Felt even better as his hand slipped between them. Just like he remembered, she was warm and wet. When his fingers parted the softness of her sex, she cried out. The desperate sound wrenching from somewhere deep in her throat made him break the suction he had on her breast.

Tear after tear flowed like rivers from her closed eyes.

“Zoë?”

Silence, except for her soft sniffles.

“Baby, look at me.”

Her eyes remained closed. If anything, her tears increased as her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Shame twisted his gut. She hated him and he almost took her against her will. The knowledge was something he couldn’t bear. His hand slipped from between her legs. He released her wrists. Lightly, he skimmed his fingers across her cheek before he pressed his lips softly to hers. Kissing her for what might be the last time.

He rolled off her and got to his feet. She didn’t move or open her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Zoë. I never meant to hurt you.”

The door closed quietly as Zoë heard Drew leave. She lay on the cold linoleum floor of the toy hauler, her body racked with tremors, her eyes moist with tears. She didn’t have the strength to fight his unwanted advances.

Liar.

That was the crux of this terrible mess. She did want his advances. His lips on her breast had been heavenly. With each suckle, the threads of arousal tugged at her pussy. His mouth warm and wet, his cock pressed to her thigh made her hungry for more. When he parted her legs, drove his knee against her tender flesh, her thighs opened wider on their own accord. But when he’d touched her, discovered her wetness, her need for him, she had died a thousand deaths.

Humiliated. She couldn’t help the burst of emotion. The need simmering through her body was an uncontrollable wildfire. Hot, liquid fire surged through her veins. Shamelessly, she had released another wave of desire into his palm. Her body did everything but scream, “Fuck me”, though it had lingered on the tip of her tongue, aching for release.

Slowly, she rolled to her side, drew her knees to her chest and hugged herself. For years she had run from Drew’s memory. A strangled sob broke from her throat, but felt like it came from her heart.

Her skin felt too tight. The pressure inside her body heavier than it ever had been. The pain ripping through her chest hurt.

She wanted it to stop.

Needed it to stop.

Desperately, she drew herself into a tighter ball.

The sad truth was, she could never run fast or far enough to get away from Drew’s memory. When he left her, Zoë had pulled some stupid stunts, partying and drinking, until she discovered she had a natural talent to ride. Riding gave her a purpose, a goal in life—to be the best. It had saved her from destroying herself. Yet somewhere something went wrong.

The first year she competed, her daredevil attitude won her awards and status at her company. She had been unique—a novelty. Yet as she began to compete against the men, she heard their grumblings. They said she was taking more chances—dangerous choices.

When other women wouldn’t try a jump or stunt, she would. Dave, her boss, said she was heading down a destructive path, becoming more of a liability than an asset. Some of the people she worked with called her an adrenaline junkie. What the hell did they know? Funny thing was they didn’t say the same thing about the men who followed her. Yet she understood why they did what they did. The rush was a high, better than any drug. She craved it. The silky epinephrine was hers anytime she wanted it.

Slowly, she uncurled her body and pushed herself to her feet. Shaky legs held her upright. She went to the cupboard, took out a shot glass and the bottle of tequila next to it and poured. Without a second thought she downed one shot of courage. It burned so good.

Carrying the bottle and glass, Zoë drifted toward a chair and slowly sat down before the kitchen table. With a critical eye she took in her surroundings before setting the bottle and glass down. As a young girl she had dreamed of a ranch, a horse and a family—little girl’s dreams. She released the air in her lungs.

Josh had brought Drew home the summer she turned sixteen. A weak smile touched her lips. Smitten was too mild a word. He had turned her world upside down and inside out. She did everything to get his attention, even kissed him. Her eyelashes brushed against her cheekbones, remembering that night.

Zoë had always been sure of herself, knew what she wanted, and she wanted Drew.

“You’re too young, baby.” His eyes had glowed with a fire that heated her blood. At the end of summer he had left on an assignment, returning three years later to stoke the flame that still smoldered inside her.

A tremor raced up her spine, shaking her from head to toe. The memory shifted and it was her nineteenth birthday. She stood before him ready, willing. They had spent a wonderful weekend at the lake. Loved and shared what Zoë had thought were plans for a future together. But they had been her desires—not his. Drew’s plans hadn’t included her. His career had been more important.

Zoë leaned forward, elbows on the table as she buried her face in her palms. Damn him for returning now. Just when she thought she had her life figured out he came waltzing in to mess with her head. She picked up the bottle and poured another glass. “No way,” she said before downing the liquor. She wasn’t falling for him a second time, no matter what.

Chapter Four

Laughter floated on the warm air. Drew sat on a lounge chair in the shade of the awning that hung from Josh’s fifth-wheel trailer, brooding, his gaze darting toward Zoë’s toy hauler. The beer in his hand was cold as he pressed it to his lips and let the amber liquid flow down his parched throat.

In the distance, campers were pouring in like ants, one right after another. Soon their semi-peaceful site would be swarming with people. And if Drew didn’t know better, they looked to be heading straight for him. As a barrage of trailers and campers descended, Drew wondered if Josh had invited all of Phoenix to California—at least that’s what it looked like from the Arizona license plates. Men and women poured from their vehicles, each having a handshake or hug for Josh as they stepped out to greet one another.