Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2) (7 page)

N
ot hitting a beach when the start point was San Clemente was near impossible and Hollis didn’t bother to try. The Pacific unfurled like a cosmic blue-grey sail, righting her internal gyroscope in some way. God, she had missed this. The sun. The ocean to her west, always her west. It called to her. Terrified her now in a primal way, but it had never stopped calling. She had just stopped answering.

“Feels good.” Kadan called out over the wind tunneling into the car from the four open windows of her Jetta. “You’ll need a convertible now that you’re back.”

Hollis pressed her lips in a thin line, thrust back into reality by his casual comment. There was a time when she’d had a convertible. Of course she’d had one. A sports car. Red. A cape waved at cops on Pacific Coast Highway.
Toro, toro, catch me.

“Not practical in Seattle,” she said, when it was clear that he was expecting an answer.

He could have been an interrogator. She could feel the heat of his stare burn through her even through the lenses of his blue-tinted Oakley’s. As she turned right on El Camino Real, one of the main roads that cut through town before it dumped out onto the freeway, she ignored him. Or tried to and once she’d blown past Camp Pendleton, she got back on PCH as soon as she could. Oceanside was busy and lacked the commercial beach charm of the other coast towns more geared toward tourists and consequently more expensive to live there.

“Why’d you leave duchess?” He asked as soon as they were slowed by the traffic lights and pedestrians in Carlsbad.

That was a loaded question. And none of his business, but ignoring Kadan Carson had never been her forte.

“Was it me?”

“Not everything is about you.” She shot back, continuing to head south, the boutiques and restaurants, outdoor patios spilling over with potted bougainvillea and Birds of Paradise, flanking diners enjoying lunch.

He grinned. His irresistible, ‘yeah here I am—trouble incarnate—and you are turned on to your core’ grin. Hollis shifted in her seat and muttered something, she wasn’t even sure what. The effect he had on her should be illegal.

“Yes it is.” He leaned back in his seat and laughed, his body relaxed.

“Arrogant much? Don’t even answer,” she said.

His legs were sprawled out, tan and strong, the boot doing little to diminish his aura of strength and power and sheer, unmitigated sexual confidence.

He turned slightly in his seat so he could watch her. Hollis swallowed hard and her breathing tangled in her throat. His liquid, blue gaze seemed to cut through her barriers with a surgical force usually reserved for a scalpel. How could he still affect her like he had when she’d been sixteen and filled with all the confidence and hope and dreams in the world? She had no more defenses now than she’d had then, but at least at sixteen she’d oozed confidence.

What an idiot
. She taunted herself for even thinking about him and his effect on her. Kadan boasted the destructive force of fire, Kryptonite, and a nuclear detonation all crammed into one sexually potent package. She should definitely know better. Been there. Done that. Three attempts with him. Three times he’d devastated her. She was going to be one of those pathetic women who kept jumping back into one man’s arms over and over again just because he showed up and smiled. Although no other man had ever even remotely interested her. Just Kadan. Always Kadan.

No
.

She could resist him. She would. She wasn’t a young girl so easily seduced by his heated stare. And his hands. His hands had always made her wet, just looking at them, long, strong, tapered fingers, imagining them on her body. She tried to drag her attention back to the road. This was crazy. She would not look at his hands, one splayed on his thigh. She would not remember how she loved the contrast of his dark hands hungrily moving over her pale skin and how she would shiver and shake and moan and beg in his arms.

And then his mouth.

Hollis slammed on the brakes as a group of teenagers with boogie boards stepped into a cross walk.

The tension seemed to expand exponentially and Kadan laughed. One finger stroked through her hair and brushed along her tense jaw.

“Still there, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hollis said stiffly, although she knew exactly what he meant.

Sex. It all came down to sex with him. Just mind blowing, animalistic, no boundaries sex. Sex up against a wall or a table or anywhere they wanted. No rules except mind and body drugging pleasure.

She hit the gas a little quickly as if by speeding, she could escape him and the emotions and sensations he always provoked.

“Really?”

The challenge in his lazily drawn out question should have warned her, but she made the mistake of looking at him, only the part she’d looked at was already long and hard, and she felt like she was strangling. There was an impossible to ignore roaring of blood in her ears and her nipples peaked so hard and fast she knew they were visible under her tank top. And he wouldn’t miss that. Not him. Not in a million years. Just as she’d been physically unable to ignore the weather vane of his cock.

She wasn’t aware he’d moved until she felt the warm brush of his fingers along the waistband of her capri leggings. Her temperature shot up along with her tension and breathing.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving a point.”

“You are not.” Hollis meant to scoot away from his hand, but when his palm splayed low on her stomach, several fingers dipping into her waistband, it was like her brain shut down and instinct took over. She arched, pressing into his fingers, crying out when, with an expertise born of a lifetime of practice, his fingers easily pulled her panties aside and hit her sweet spot. Her body jerked to life, sensations running through her blood and nerves like an operatic aria. His thumb circled her clit while another finger dipped inside of her.

“Kadan.” She breathed, and it didn’t even begin to sound like a protest. “I’m driving.”

She lifted a little and moved against him, the sensations he created made her body feel so pliant, so empty, desiring to be filled. His eyes were liquid heat. He pulled his hand away, his finger wet with her juices, eyes holding hers he ran his finger around his lips and licked.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “Still got it.” Satisfaction oozed.

It was a slap in her face. Proving his point. He was in control. She wasn’t. Never had been.

Hollis swerved over to the curb. It was yellow, but what the hell? She had to get away from him. What he did to her without even trying.

She lurched out of the car, not even looking if anyone was coming. Blare of a horn, a middle finger, and Hollis scrambled around the car to the sidewalk, her face flushed, breathing ragged and a horrible feeling that she would burst into tears if he dared to say anything else to her ever again.

“What the hell, Hollis! You could have been hit.” He got out of the car, his boot catching on the side of the door.

In spite of her fury—more at her inability to resist him sexually and emotionally and his skill at playing her than at him—she lunged forward and caught his body against hers, afraid he’d hit the ground and injure himself more.

She didn’t need to worry. He had a lifetime of balancing on a board on furious waves that were constantly trying to wrestle him off. Even injured, he was strong and graceful and competent. Still she wrapped her arms around him, trembling with fear and anger and she didn’t know what else, but her body wouldn’t stop shaking, and she couldn’t unlock her arms. She could feel her heart pounding so hard, she felt dizzy.

“Are you hurt?” His question was soft, but his hands smoothed over her body, quickly at first as if he were anxious and then slowing. He molded her hips to his. It felt so good to be held by him that she let him hold her. She sighed shakily and melted. Home.

Even after so many years away, his body and being held like this was so familiar. The ache that had started deep in her core rippled through her body, through bone and blood and muscle to her skin. It was more than sexual. It was a visceral desire to hold and be held. She closed her eyes tightly. She was so alone. So lonely. Like a yawning, dark chasm of aloneness sucking her in and away from his light.

“You can’t touch me,” she whispered. “You can’t,” Even as she held him tightly.

“Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”

His hands were so warm and strong as they held her, as they moved over her body, shaping her. Somehow, she felt like he was putting her back together in some way, as if she’d flown apart and he was returning all the pieces of her puzzle body.

“Everything,” she whispered against his chest.

“Everything?” He tipped her head up so he could see her face.

“Total disaster,” she confessed and her eyes filled with hot tears.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his now damp T-shirt. She had to get herself together. She was worse than any hot mess on two legs and, even broken, he was near perfect, and she was
wrecked.

She could feel his warmth, the steady beat of his heart. God, he had always made her feel so safe, but that was an illusion. Not special to her. He made every woman feel that. She had to get a grip. She had to. Gulping a deep breath, she pulled out of his arms and took two steps back.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, baby,” he said softly and kissed her hair.

It was effortless, falling back into the past. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She never had been. It had all been a desperate acting job, trying to be the perfect girlfriend for Kadan. Trying to be more than enough so he’d never look at another woman. Never stray, even thousand miles away.

“Okay.” Somehow she managed to peel herself off his body. “Moving on. Sorry for the freak out. No big deal. Food.” Her gaze swung wildly up and down the crowded sidewalk, past the brightly colored shops lining Pacific Coast Highway and the solid ribbon of traffic north and south. “Food. Right.” No grocery store in sight, but the white awnings one block up signaled a reprieve.

“Let’s go to the farmer’s market.”

His expression hardened and Hollis had a mad desire to reach out and smooth the tension from his mouth, to trace his laugh lines, usually so present when he was surrounded by friends. The desire was like a drum thumping through her body until she could think of nothing else. She backed away and spun around, unable to look at him without touching him.

“Of course, duchess.” He matched her clipped tone. “Anything to please you.”

Even though she’d pulled away, she felt his absence like a glass of ice water tossed over her. She wanted the distance. Needed it. So why did it freeze her bones until she hurt?

E
ven though he still relied heavily on the crutches, it was good to be out. The sun felt fantastic on his skin and he was starting to feel alive again.
A shadow of himself, but still himself
. And trailing Hollis through the stalls of fresh fruit and vegetables was definitely contributing to his improved mood. She had a great ass, really tight and athletic, rounded even though she was quite slim. And watching her run her fingers expertly over a wide variety of fruits and vegetables before settling on her purchases reminded him of how else she could use her fingers. His hard-on was awkward, uncomfortable, but again it reminded him that he was still alive. And that Hollis was here. With him. Again.

“Are you planning to turn me into a salad?” He whispered in her ear after she had purchased an extensive selection of greens that he didn’t even know the names of from one stall.

“Tell me you are not going to whine about meat.” She tilted her head back to look up at him, a smile curved her lips and her amber eyes sparkled.

He sucked in his breath. Her eyes had always unraveled his cool. The color was beautiful, unusual, but it was the variety of expressions that chased through them instantaneously mirroring everything from fury to teasing to passion in the span of a few heartbeats, and through the years he’d found himself almost obsessed with trying to create storms in her eyes just so he could experience her color change to passion.

“I might,” he said softly, aware of her lips, soft and nearly curved in a smile, so close to his. “But I don’t whine. I insist.”

Inches. He could close the gap and feel her lips part beneath his. She’d always been so willing. So open and giving and passionate. In the past, he just had to look at her and think about sex and she’d catch fire. He’d never met a woman so consumed by desire for him. Who could and would lose hours in touching his body and letting him touch hers over and over again like it was their first time. Again and again.

He saw the instant she caught fire. Hollis paled then flushed. Made a small, adorable sound that caught in her throat.

“Um. No beef. It has inflammation properties.”

He was hard as hell in public like he was sixteen all over again. How did she do that with two totes full of vegetables? Beef was not the only thing with inflaming properties.

“It does?”

Hollis nibbled on her lip. “You’re not flirting, Kadan, are you?”