Wild (3 page)

“Ah, don’t say you don’t remember, Sugar.” His eyebrow quirked up as he came around the counter and stepped into my space. His body hovered just a centimeter from mine, his chest brushing against my shoulder and setting my nerve endings ablaze, zinging them across my body, and sending them dancing before they burst into flames. I shifted my legs awkwardly. The throb between my thighs was becoming unbearable. For an instant, I hoped he would push me down across the counter and take me right there among all these books.

“The way you’re fidgeting tells me you remember just fine,” he growled as a hand slid up around my neck, his thumb dusting along my jaw.

I refused to look at him—refused to make eye contact. “I don’t.”

“If you say so. But your pussy says otherwise,” he murmured, his lips whispering across my neck. “I know you’re wet right now.”

“You’re a pig.” I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

“And the scratches you left on my back remind me just what it felt like to be deep inside you.” His warm breath whispered across my skin and caused my nipples to harden into aching peaks.

Suddenly a chime rang out and Claire stepped through the door.

“Oh, hello, Lane. I see you’ve met my new assistant librarian.”

“I have. She’s a fine one.” He stepped away as Claire leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Then a realization hit my brain.

His name.

I hadn’t known his name.

Lane.

I wondered if it was his first name or last name.

“Did Kat help you with whatever you were looking for, hon?”

His lips turned up in a devilish grin. “Kat,” he emphasized my name, “did a spectacular job of attending to my needs.”

I glared as his eyes flicked down my body one last time, my arms still crossed over my chest.

“Until we meet again, Kat.” He nodded at me before placing one more kiss on Claire’s wrinkled cheek and heading out the door.

The energy he left behind buzzed in his wake. Lane whoever-he-was had the ability to light more than just a room on fire; he had my body bursting into flames with just one glance from those glacial eyes.

I watched his lean form jog down the steps and stretch up into the seat of his pickup. He threw one arm across the seat of his truck as he turned his head to back out of the parking space. When he paused to put his truck in drive, he glanced up and caught me staring. His mouth quirked up in a cocky smile and he gave me a small nod. I heaved a sigh and then rolled my eyes.

“He’s sweet, that boy.” Claire busied herself at the front desk.

“I don’t really know him. Just ran into him a few times,” I murmured.

“Watched him grow up; he still comes over for Sunday dinner at our house. Lane’s sweet, after what happened—well, a person just shouldn’t have to suffer through something like that.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, it’s not my place to say. He doesn’t speak about it, but you can tell it still haunts him.”

I nodded in understanding. I could respect keeping skeletons where they belonged. “You called him Lane?”

“Oh yes, Lane Wild. He and his brother grew up next door to us. They don’t talk to each other much anymore, though. Ridge left as soon as he graduated. I don’t think he’s been back since . . . everything happened.”

“Lane and Ridge Wild. Interesting names.”

“Interesting boys, that’s for sure.”

Lane Wild.

His name bounced around in my head. He sounded like a rogue. A cowboy, nothing but trouble. A man sexy as that with a name like Lane Wild was definitely not someone I needed to get wrapped up in. Danger for me and for him on so many levels.

“He doesn’t look so much like a
boy
anymore,” I mumbled more to myself than anyone else.

“No, I guess he doesn’t. He’s quite the handsome one, isn’t he?”

“Mm hmm . . .” I agreed. I’d had a one-night stand with the town’s golden boy and he seemed to be haunting me.

“So let me show you how we categorize the periodicals.” Claire smiled and pulled me across the room.

I bundled up in a chunky cardigan with a scarf, wool socks, and boots, and headed out for the library.

The temperatures had dropped below freezing last night and I was dressed in layers because the furnace had gone to shit in the wee hours of the morning. I’d known there was a problem when I’d bought the furnace filter—it was a last ditch effort to rectify the situation with no such luck.

My lips felt like frozen icicles and a shiver ran through my body as I darted to my car and cranked the old engine. It flared to life and I cranked the heat immediately. It blew cold air, but I didn’t care; I needed the warmth the very second it kicked in. The only upside to the furnace going now was that it wasn’t the dead of winter when the nor’easters blew in and froze the cabin from the inside out.

I flew up the steps to the library, taking them two at a time and bursting through the door, thankful for the heat. I didn’t live far out of town, so I was at my new job before the heater had really even kicked in. I started peeling off layers and hanging them on the hook next to the door as I glanced out the window. Leaves danced across the sidewalks and gathered in gutters. Some stubborn ones still hung on as the wind curled and flipped in the bright September sunlight.

My eyes scanned the small park across the street. It was empty except for a man with a camera taking pictures. I squinted to get a better look. My heart kicked up in my chest and my palms tingled with the sense of being watched. I stood stock-still as the photographer aimed the camera at the library and presumably snapped a few pictures. I clutched at the old windowsill as I tried to control my breathing. Finally, the photographer turned and tilted the camera toward the treetops.

Jesus, he was taking pictures of the fall colors. And the library was a historic building. Probably a tourist that had come to enjoy fall in a small New England town.

I needed to stop my nerves from getting the best of me.

Not everyone was out to get me. I was far, far from home. In a town where nobody knew me, or where I came from, or my name. I was safe.

I straightened and steeled my spine as the photographer ambled along the walkway and continued snapping pictures of the sights surrounding him.

“It gets a lot colder than that up here. I hope you’re prepared.” Claire stepped out from the back room and took in my excessive clothing with a chuckle.

“Oh, I know. The furnace went out this morning,” I mumbled and turned away from the window.

“Oh, honey, you must be frozen half to death. I’ll call William and get him to fix it before you get home today.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and went straight for the coffee that she’d made in the back room. I stepped back out and we chatted for a few minutes while I sipped the hot liquid before I got to work, restocking the shelves.

I pulled into the narrow dirt driveway of my cabin later that afternoon. Claire had said her husband would take care of the furnace, but I was surprised to find a truck parked up by the cabin. One I’d seen before: black matte paint, a row of lights on the hood, oversized in every way, just like the man that drove it.

What on earth was he doing here? This was seriously beginning to feel like it crossed into full-on stalker territory.

I narrowed my eyes as I slung grocery bags over my arm. I stepped out of my car and stomped up the steps and through the front door. The house was silent. I scanned the shoreline, looking for the stranger that I couldn’t seem to escape. The one I’d shared a wild, passionate night of the best sex of my life.

I thought about our night together, before we’d left for his place.

Up against the wall in the bar, he’d captured my lips with his own and thrust his hand down the front of my dress, his fingers kneading my breast almost painfully. My fingers raked through his dark and disheveled hair, a moan escaping my throat. His blue eyes blazed as he took me in, writhing underneath him, so close to losing it, I thought my body would explode from his gaze.

“Need help?”

“Oh my God.” I turned and a bag ripped, causing cans to fly across the floor. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.” I brought a hand to my pounding heart.

“Didn’t mean to catch you unaware, Sugar. I thought the truck sitting outside would be an indication you had company.”

“No. Well, it was, but I thought you were outside.” I set the bags on the counter and bent to retrieve the cans.

“Bill had me come up to fix the furnace. He’s down with the flu and I’m the resident handyman in town.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.

“I’m sure you are,” I grumbled.

“Here.” He stooped next to me and grabbed the last remaining cans.

“Thanks.” I licked my lips, my one nervous habit. I hated it, but the dark shadow that overtook his eyes as he followed the path my tongue had taken along my lips told me it didn’t bother him so much. His long, muscular legs straightened and strained under the denim of his jeans. He stood tall in front of me. I was still crouched on the floor, two cans of crushed tomatoes in my hands, my heart pounding frantically in my chest.

“I like you on your knees, Sugar, but let me help you up.”

His words snapped me out of my daydream as his large hand reached down for my arm. He wrapped his palm around my elbow and I stood up. His gentle touch was unexpected. This big, strong man who said some of the vilest things I’d ever heard had a touch so gentle it wouldn’t hurt a fly. I frowned and turned back to the counter, taking food out of the grocery bags.

“So the furnace? Is it fixed?”

“Yeah, should be all set. I had to run into town and get a belt; that’s why it took me so long.” He pulled some items from another bag and set them on the counter.

My eye flicked up to his, taking in his face: the dark stubble along his jaw, chiseled lips that made my heart race, slightly mussed hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it. All of that rugged beauty contrasted with eyes the lightest blue I’d ever seen and lashes so dark, it nearly looked like he lined his eyes with makeup.

His eyebrows lifted, snapping me out of my trance.

“Spaghetti for dinner?”

“Yeah. Would you like to stay?” My mouth formed the words before my brain could stop them.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” His lips lifted in a soft smile as he inched closer to me, leaning across to grab the bags in my hands. I took in his toned forearms, a light dusting of hair spread over the rippling muscles, a lightweight, plaid shirt rolled to the elbows.

His arm brushed across my chest. Despite the chunky wool sweater I wore, I felt it as clearly as if I’d been naked. Sparks raced across my body and landed straight between my thighs and all I could think about was his strong arms lifting me up on the counter and taking me. Fucking me like he meant it. Fucking me like he was starved for my body.

My breath ratcheted up a notch and I pressed my thighs together, shifting back and forth, trying to get my mind off the sexy man infiltrating my space.

“Okay there, Sugar?” his breath whispered across my neck as he stood behind me. When had he gotten there? Where had I been?

Lost in my fantasy of him taking me in the kitchen, that’s where.

“Fine,” I croaked.

“Remembering the night we were together?” His finger dusted along the curve of my neck, pulling my long hair around to one shoulder. “Every time I see you, I think about it.” He leaned in, whispering his nose up my heated flesh. “I think about my hands up and down your body. Taking you in, feeling you shiver underneath me.” He ran his big palms up my thighs, over my hips, narrowing in at my waist, and then up my torso, his thumbs landing just beneath my breasts. “You’re intoxicating,” his gruff voice murmured in my ear. I leaned back into his hard body, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl. Giving in, all soft and open for me.” His palms hooked beneath my sweater and touched my heated flesh. Lightning bolts ripped through my body as he slid his rough palms up slowly, heating everything in their wake. His fingertips brushed over the soft satin of my bra, causing my nipples to pucker and pebble under his touch.