Set the Dark on Fire (19 page)

With a Herculean effort, he tore his gaze away from her, because he was in no mood to be jerked around—encouraged and rejected—yet again.

If she’d waited another minute, he’d have walked her home, but she rushed out of his room before he’d recovered well enough to follow. And she left both copies of her lyrics on the top of his desk.

He stared at the pages for a long time, comparing his slanted scrawl to her awkward, meticulous letters until the pages blurred.

Making a strangled, furious sound, he swept his arm across the surface of his desk, clearing it. When that failed to satisfy, he stood and upended the son of a bitch, sending it careening across the room. One sharp corner tore a jagged edge in the drywall before it landed on its side, contents spilling from the drawers, littering the floor.

Angel ran blindly, tears stinging her eyes, the cool night air biting her cheeks and upper arms. She stumbled over a rock on the side of the road and almost went sprawling, but she didn’t slow down until she reached the edge of her father’s property.

Cutting across the yard in silence, she approached her tiny studio, tiptoeing in the dark, panting lightly.

As she put the key in the lock, someone laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Madre de Dios,”
she blurted, almost jumping out of her skin.

Her father chuckled at her skittishness.
“Lo siento,”
he said, putting his hands up. “You are very nervous these days,
mi angelita.”

Angelita
. Little angel. She was hardly that. “No, Papá,” she protested, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I was just—”

“Visiting the neighbor boy? Dylan Phillips?”

She moistened her lips, tasting salt from the tears she’d already forgotten.

“Let’s talk,” he said, frowning at her closed door. He’d installed the lock himself, saying a girl her age needed some privacy, and had rarely visited her here. “Do you want to go to the kitchen?”

As surreptitiously as possible, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “My room is fine.” She opened the door and turned on the lamp, glad she’d had the foresight to put her bus schedules away. Gesturing toward the only chair, she took a seat on the edge of her bed, her heart pounding with trepidation.

Her dad was quiet, steady, reliable. He worked his fingers to the bone for their family and had never asked her to do the same. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted to speak to her about, because he wasn’t one for long, meaningful discussions. A nod or a smile was the most encouragement he gave, a simple reprimand the most punishment.

“Qué honda?”
she murmured. What’s up?

He hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if searching for the right words. Deep grooves etched into his forehead, making him appear far older than he was. “I know you have had a hard time since your mother left.”

“I’ve been okay,” she mumbled.

“Your brothers have done well. Except for Juan Carlos, of course. And Yoli hardly remembers. But you …” He placed his fist against the center of his chest.
“Te dueles.”

She hurt. Fresh tears sprang into her eyes, much too easily.

“Do you know that when I saw the dead woman lying there, I thought it was you?”

She shook her head, astounded by his words.

“I knew you had gone out the night before, and when I left before dawn the next morning, you had not yet returned. I was very worried.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hanging her head in shame.

“Do not be. You are entitled to have fun with your friends. To live a life of your own. To make your own mistakes.”

When he said “mistakes,” he looked into her eyes, and she knew he understood what she’d been going through better than he let on.

“I know what happens at the Graveyard, and I will not tell you what to do. But I hate to see you going with boys to fill an empty place in your heart. They will only take from you, and leave you emptier than before.”

She stared down at her pointy-toed boots, unable to claim she didn’t know firsthand how true his words were.

“What happened with Tony? Did he mistreat you?”

Sniffling, she shrugged her shoulders. “Not really.” Tony Duran had been her boyfriend for almost three years, and in that time he’d never once raised his voice to her. He might not have ever really
noticed
her. They’d certainly never engaged in a passionate argument like she and Dylan. Nor a passionate anything else.

They’d broken up after Christmas, after Chad. She hadn’t told him what she’d done, or given any reason for her decision, but he’d accepted it the way he did everything else, with neither question nor complaint. If she’d proposed marriage, his reaction might have been the same, so she didn’t waste any time crying over him. It was kind of hard to feel upset about ending your relationship with a robot.

“I will buy you a car,” her father decided. “I know you want to get out of the house. Now that Yoli is in school, you could get a job, or take classes at the community college.”

“You can’t afford to buy me a car,” she protested. “The boys need new shoes, and the dryer’s busted, and the hot water heater’s going out. If you didn’t send money to Mamá—”

His face darkened with anger, and she knew she’d gone too far. She clamped her mouth shut, but she couldn’t take back those impulsive words.

“One of my customers has an old car for sale,” he continued in a tone that brooked no argument. “I will see if he is interested in trading for services.”

Angel wasn’t a perfect, dutiful daughter, but neither was she openly defiant. She didn’t talk back to her father. Showing disrespect, in her family, wasn’t an option. Although she knew he couldn’t buy her a car, not even an old junker, without cutting corners elsewhere, literally taking food from her siblings’ mouths, she didn’t say anything more.

Nor could she tell him of her plans, because it would break his spirit, and he would never agree to let her go.

Ending the discussion, he stood slowly and shuffled out the door, moving the way he always did when his back was hurting. Like a man who’d suffered several lifetimes’ worth.

Wishing circumstances were different, and that she had any other choice to make, Angel went to her wardrobe, took out her only suitcase, and began to pack.

18

Shay couldn’t invite Luke back to her bedroom while her brother was home, and he couldn’t sneak her into the firehouse. Booking a hotel room wasn’t an option in a town as small as Tenaja Falls either, so they were going to the Visitors’ Center at Dark Canyon.

It was risky, but not as risky as tearing each other’s clothes off in a public parking lot.

She knew Luke only wanted her for sex, and that she was allowing him to treat her like the kind of woman he thought she was. If it was any consolation, she only wanted one thing from him, too. For the first time in a long while, she was willing to give up the standards nobody believed she had, and enjoy a man solely for his body.

And what a body it was.

She studied him as he drove along the deserted road toward Dark Canyon, eyes trailing over his flat stomach and sinewy arms, admiring the contrast between his pale gray T-shirt and bronzed skin. He handled a truck the way men did, leaning back as far as the space allowed, thighs braced wide, his right arm fully extended and his hand resting lightly on top of the wheel. After meeting up with Jesse’s square-shaped face, his knuckles must be throbbing, but he didn’t complain. His position was deceptively relaxed, belied only by the tenseness in his jaw and the hard line of his triceps.

Not to mention the ridge of his erection beneath his button fly.

She pulled her gaze away from the front of his jeans, uncomfortably aware of her own arousal. Her nipples strained against the soft cotton T-shirt, and between her legs she felt achy and swollen. In her heightened state of consciousness, the lacy fabric of her panties against her sensitive flesh was both pleasurable and abrasive.

She squirmed in her seat, wishing he would put his hand there. Wishing she had the nerve to put
her
hand there.

A few moments before they arrived, she unlatched her seat belt.

“You stay over there,” he growled, proving he was attuned to her every move.

Smiling, she toyed with the frayed edge of her skirt, which was almost short enough to be called indecent. His eyes traveled down the length of her legs, then jerked back to the road.

Heart racing with anticipation, she reached underneath her skirt and took off her panties, careful to avoid getting the stretchy lace snagged on her high heels. He glanced at her again, eyes black with lust, nostrils flaring as if he could smell her.

Well, maybe he could. Her panties were very wet.

Scarcely able to believe her audacity, she opened her purse and dropped the lacy red thong inside, stashing it with a smart click.

He turned his attention back to driving, his expression promising he would make her pay later for taunting him.

She couldn’t wait.

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, she got out of the truck and strode toward the front entrance, keys in hand. While he stood behind her, heat coming off of him in waves, she unlocked the door to the Visitors’ Center.

Dark Canyon State Preserve headquarters wasn’t an ideal location for a tryst. There were shelves of informational brochures, examples of taxidermy that were as creepy as ghosts in the moonlight, and glass cases of biological items such as owl barf and coyote scat.

A romantic getaway, it was not.

Bypassing the scientific displays, she took Luke by the hand and led him back to her office. There was nothing in there but her computer desk, a couple of office chairs, and an old wool love seat, but at least they were alone.

Ignoring the overhead light, she clicked on her desk lamp, illuminating the small space with a cozy glow. When she snuck a glance at him, the look on his face was priceless. He obviously found the room lacking in sexual possibilities, and she couldn’t blame him, but he was so out of his element the situation struck her as comical.

“You think too much,” she decided, grabbing him by the front of the shirt. Instead of kissing him senseless, she played a bit coy, nibbling her way across his jaw. When he tried to capture her mouth with his, she pulled her head away, teasing him. His eyes flashed with pique. And arousal.

With no panties on, she could feel moisture slicking her inner thighs. Wanting more freedom, more reaction, more sensation, she stepped back and took off her shirt, dragging the soft cotton over her aching nipples as she bared her breasts.

He didn’t blink once.

Smiling, she wiggled her tiny skirt down her hips and stood brazenly before him, clad in high heels and her birthday suit.

His gaze seared her skin, lingering on her breasts and between her legs, making her body throb in response. But he must have known intuitively that she wanted to be in control, because instead of reaching for her, he curled his hands into fists.

She circled him slowly, watching his throat work as she made her perusal. She liked this. Driving him crazy. Making him sweat. Standing directly behind him, she pulled up the back of his shirt, stripping it over his head and tossing it aside.

He arched a glance over his shoulder, obviously uncomfortable with the position. Even so, he held himself motionless while she slid her hands up the length of his spine, her fingertips playing over taut muscle and smooth skin. His body was a study in strength and definition, every inch of it lean and powerful and perfectly toned. He had these sexy indentations at his lower back, and a very cute, very tight butt.

Murmuring her approval, she sank her hands into his back pockets and kissed the spot between his shoulder blades.

Feeling a rough place beneath her lips, she frowned. “What’s this?” she asked, taking her hands out of his pockets and running her fingertips over the scratches.

“You did that.”

“Oh.” She had a vague recollection of sinking her nails into his hard flesh. “Sorry.”

He shrugged, making all those gorgeous muscles dance. “Don’t be. I enjoyed it.”

Her throat went dry. Heart thumping, she slid her arms around his waist, flattening her breasts against his back and letting her hands drift down his front. “Do you have a condom this time?”

“In my pocket.”

Rather than looking for it, she found his erection, surging under the flat of her palm. Her breath hitching, she released the buttons on his fly one by one. Unable to resist, she nipped at his shoulder and moved her hands from front to back once again, burying them in the waistband of his shorts and giving his bare butt an exploratory squeeze.

With a low growl, he turned on her, grabbing her hands by the wrists and jerking them out of his pants. She thought he was going to lift her up against the nearest flat surface and have at her, a move she would have gone along with enthusiastically. Instead, he dipped his head to kiss her, holding her arms behind her back and tangling his tongue with hers, making love to her mouth rather than her body.

After a long moment, he raised his head, his gaze raking over her flushed face as if he wanted to commit every line and curve to memory. Startled by his intensity, she stared back at him in confusion, moistening her throbbing lips.

He was doing this wrong. This was supposed to be about casual sex, pure pleasure, a simple physical connection. But the way he was looking at her …

Covering her mouth with his once again, he backed her toward the love seat in the far corner. She smiled against his lips as he perched her on the edge and settled himself between her legs, his knees sinking into the seat cushions at her feet.

This was more like it.

When he released her wrists, she arched against him, desperate for him to suit up and get on with the show. But his eyes slid down her body and his hands took a leisurely path over her hips, setting a different pace.

Shay had never begged a man for anything in her life, but she found herself saying, “Please,” in this embarrassingly high-pitched whimper.

Smiling, he bent his head to her, wetting one nipple with his tongue, then the other.

Her inner muscles clenched with longing. “Please, Luke,” she panted. “I’m going to ruin the couch.”

His gaze lingered on her nipples for another moment before lowering to the other place, where she was wet and pulsing with sensation. “It isn’t worth saving,” he murmured, moving his mouth down her belly.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, bracing her hands by her sides. She couldn’t maintain a semblance of control if he kissed her there. She was hanging on by a thread already …

He parted her slippery folds with his fingertips, exposing the taut pink bud of her clitoris and tasting her hungrily.

She cried out, gripping the edge of the love seat and spreading her legs wide, beyond decorum, beyond shame. “Luke,” she pleaded, watching his tongue flick hotly against her. At the same time, he sank two fingers deep inside her.

It was good. It was way too good. It was so good she couldn’t hang on a moment longer. “Oh,
yes,”
she gasped, moving her hands from her sides to bury them in his short hair, holding him there, holding him
right there
while she dissolved in pleasure.

When the world wavered back into focus, Luke was in front of her, stretching a condom over his jutting erection.

Shay blinked a few times, studying him unabashedly. She’d seen him in the dark and felt him in her hand, among other places, but she hadn’t really looked her fill. “Hello there,” she murmured, reacquainting herself with his manliest of parts.

With a chuckle that sounded pained, he placed the blunt tip of his penis against her, reacquainting her further. She was swollen and slick, still in the flush of orgasm as he slid into her, and so sensitive she felt every inch.

He caught her gaze and held it, gauging her response.

“More,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. “More,” she said, brushing her lips over his.

His control broke. This time, he took her mouth and her body, thrusting deep and plunging in, filling her everywhere at once. His hands knew all of her feminine secrets and his lips tasted of her musk. He wasn’t tender, driving her hard against the wall behind her back and angling her hips up to meet his thrusts, but he was thorough. And he felt so good that tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

The pegs underneath the love seat scraped along the tile floor and the couch springs groaned in protest.

She thought their first time together had been phenomenal, but this was better. He was still doing it wrong, making too much eye contact, as if he wanted to see the ecstasy on her face while he worshipped her with his cock. He was still too demanding, wringing every drop of pleasure from her, owning her response. There was too much mouth to mouth and skin on skin. But, oh, God, did he make doing it wrong feel right.

She clung to him, pressing her lips to his neck to muffle her scream as she climaxed again. With a muttered curse, he cupped her buttocks and jerked her toward him, penetrating her so deeply she felt as though he wanted to pierce her soul. His body convulsed as he spent himself inside her. Shoulders trembling, he collapsed against her, a bead of sweat trickling down his well-muscled back.

Shay never imagined she would enjoy having a man pant and heave and sweat all over her. After Jesse finished, she’d always wanted him to leave. Immediately, if not sooner. With Luke, she was struck by the urge to stroke his hair and talk drowsy nonsense. She wouldn’t mind if he fell asleep on top of her. She wanted him to stay inside her forever.

Realizing her feelings for him went deeper than she’d thought, she panicked, squirming underneath him, pushing at his shoulders. He lifted himself up at once and withdrew from her carefully. She scrambled away from him, gathering up her discarded clothes and hurrying to the ladies’ room, hoping to wash away her sullied emotions.

She put on her clothes and stood before the mirror in the darkened room, feeling raw and naked and over-exposed. Studying her reflection was a mistake. Her eyes sparkled with intensity and her cheeks were bright with color.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the office, preparing to hurt him before he could do the same to her.

One glance at his conflicted face calmed her as nothing else could have. She wasn’t going to have to do anything. He was about to ruin it all on his own.

Adding a swagger to her walk, which was difficult on unsteady legs, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and bent to pick up her purse, giving him a sexy show that was part bravado, part façade. On the inside, she was crying.

He ran his fingers through his short hair, and she was struck by the impression that he wanted to apologize for the way he’d taken her. Deep down, he was a gentleman, one who didn’t lose his inhibitions any more often than he lost his self-control.

“This morning, in the cave … I acted like an ass, and I’m sorry.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, accepting his apology with a terse nod. Then she glanced at the clock above his head and manufactured a short yawn.

His eyes narrowed. “I know I said I wasn’t looking for a relationship—”

“Neither am I,” she interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t have the best track record with women.”

She almost choked on her surprise. Luke Meza was admitting he’d made mistakes
and
that he had relationship issues? Wonders would never cease. Leaning her hip against the desk, she plucked at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt, trying to look bored. “Let me guess. Some bad girl broke your heart.”