Rekindled Read online

  Rachael cleared her throat.

  Toby glanced at her. “Your big-wig boyfriend isn’t around, and having five wheels isn’t—”

  “Well, I never.” Rachael huffed and then got back in her car. “Kaylee, call me later, okay?”

  Kaylee waved as Rachael drove off. “Toby, that wasn’t very nice.”

  “You skipping out isn’t very nice either.” A belly roar filled the air. “And after what she did to me, hell and fire.” He twiddled his toothpick. “Why would I give her the time of day?”

  “What did she do?”

  “Forget it. Let’s go find the boss.”

  “Toby?” She hesitated and pulled open the car door. “Please, Toby. Just let me leave.”

  “I wouldn’t help you run back then, what makes you think I’d help you now?” He batted her nose and strutted toward the station house, leaving his rusted Jeep behind her car.

  Big, puffy snowflakes began to fall from the sky. The wind died and then swirled in a howl, then softened again. She took in a deep breath of the cold, crisp air.

  She eyed Toby’s car to see if she might be able to squeeze by, but it didn’t look good.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Blaine yelled. “You ran out on me ten years ago without an explanation, and I won’t let you do it to me again.” He marched across the pavement. His cowboy boots banged and clanked with each long stride. He wore jeans, a T-shirt, a light jean jacket, and his long, dark hair flowed from his face as he stomped toward her.

  She stared at him, knowing her mouth was wide open and she was unable to move, much less breathe. A gasp tickled her throat when she tried to say something—anything—but couldn’t.

  “You have some explaining to do,” he whispered.

  Her five-foot-six-inch frame seemed tiny as he towered over her, having at least six or seven inches on her. She locked gazes with his dark, intense stare. “I…I…already explained why I left and where I went.”

  “Not that.” Without warning, he grabbed her hips. “We miscommunicated because people lied to us, but this time you’re lying to me.” His eyes bore into hers like a tiger ready to pounce. “I can throw you over my shoulder or you can get in the car. Your call.”

  “You wouldn’t dare! Isn’t that kidnapping or something?”

  “So, call the cops,” he said, unlocking his truck. “Get in.”

  “You can’t boss me around—”

  “Get in or I’ll make you,” he said.

  She clenched her jaw but complied, knowing he wasn’t past tossing her over his shoulder at this point.

  “If you think about running, I’ll handcuff you.”

  “You’re being an asshole,” she said.

  “Stop lying to me, and I’ll stop being an asshole.” He slammed the door shut and then leaped across the truck, uttering numerous curses.

  Large drops of snow floated and swirled about in the howling wind. Small, white mounds had already begun to collect on the roads. The truck skidded and fishtailed as he squealed out of the parking lot.

  “Stop this truck right now. I refuse to go anywhere with you when you act like this.”

  “You have to stop running, Kaylee,” he said in a soft tone, but his hands gripped the steering wheel, and his eyes focused on the road as he drove way too fast. “You have to start being honest with me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  The roads heading out of town and to his house were empty. He took the curves tight and fast. She braced herself as the truck fishtailed again. “Slow down.”

  She felt the car ease up slightly.

  “I’m tired of your bullshit.” He took the turn onto Route 5, his house now just a mile down the road. “I know you’re in trouble. I know someone is trying to kill you, and I know you’re lying to me.”

  “None of which has anything to do with you.”

  “It has a lot to do with me.” He laughed. “Besides finding you crumpled over your father’s body. Besides someone shooting at you in my driveway. You decided to put me in the middle of this.”

  The truck skidded sideways as he pulled into the driveway.

  “You put yourself in the middle of this the moment you brought me back here. Had you let me go to the hotel—”

  “You’d be gone. And most likely dead.” He shut the engine off. “I’m not going to let someone kill my wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” she corrected him.

  “Whatever.” He slammed the door and headed for the stairs, leaving her in the truck. “Not so fast.” She stepped into the cold night air. “You don’t get to dump all that on me and walk away.”

  He turned and faced her. “Why not? That’s what you were going to do to me.”

  “I didn’t dump this on you.”

  “Fine.” He raised his arms, palms facing the sky. “But that doesn’t change the situation, and I can’t stand by and let someone I care about put themselves in the line of fire, literally.” He turned and took the stairs to his apartment two at a time.

  The snow had started to fall harder as she made her way up the stairs, leaving her footprints behind. He’d left the door open, but once inside, he didn’t talk, didn’t look at her, just went for the refrigerator. He got himself a beer, opened it, chugged half of it down, and then sat down on the sofa.

  She took off her coat, shaking off the snow. “I didn’t mean to drag any of you into this.”

  “I know,” he said. “But we’re in it, and it just pisses me off that you don’t get I’m on your side. That I want to protect you. Help you.”

  “It’s not that I don’t get it,” she said. “I’m ashamed.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and locking gazes with her. “Come here.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I shouldn’t be here at all.”

  He sipped his beer and stared at her. “You can’t run out on this,” he said. “Not just because of what happened to your father, but because of those scars on your back.”

  She sat on the edge of the sofa. “It’s killing me that I’m putting you in danger.”

  “You do remember I’m a cop, right?”

  She smiled weakly. “Your mother could get caught in the cross fire.”

  “She has a cop for a son and a cop for a boyfriend. I think she understands the danger.”

  Blaine had always had an answer for everything. It was difficult to win any argument with him because of that. But also because sometimes he was just right. But in this situation? The De Lucas wouldn’t think twice about snapping his mother’s neck. Her situation wasn’t going to change, and no matter how much she wanted to curl up in his arms, the De Lucas would destroy him and not look back.

  “I’d been working on leaving for months. I had to get my back better before I could do that. The longer I stayed, the worse the situation became. And now I just need to hide.”

  “You can’t run,” he said. “They will find you.” He tugged at her arm, pulling her closer. “Let me protect you.” He pressed his lips against her temple. “I’m sorry I blew up at you, it just scares me that you’d be so reckless as to try and do this on your own. Being alone isn’t smart.”

  She relaxed into his body. Her head rested on his shoulders, his arm looped around hers. She lifted her feet, tucking them off to the side. He set his beer down, snagging the remote off the coffee table. He picked a television station with an old sitcom. She didn’t really watch it. And he had the volume turned down so low, she could barely hear it anyway. Instead, she contemplated her situation. If she ran, she had to take care of one thing first, and she couldn’t do that for a day or two. But Blaine was right. Running could get her killed. Nothing she didn’t already know.

  But staying could get any number of people killed, including Blaine.

  “You’re deep in thought.” He tugged gently at her hair. “What are you thinking about?”

  She sat upright. He had one arm stretched out on the back of the so
fa. The other one on the arm rest.

  “I bet I know what you’re thinking about.” He winked.

  “Yeah, what’s that?

  “You want me.”

  “Seriously? Not a time to joke around.”

  “I’m not joking. I can see it in your eyes. They change color when you—”

  “That’s not true,” she said, though this was something he’d constantly told her when they were young and in love.

  “It is true. And you want me.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re conceited?”

  He nodded. “But I’m right,” he said. “You want me, and I can prove it.” He slowly stood, pulling her with him. “No matter how hard you try to deny it, you still want me.” His lips hovered over hers. She held her breath as she tried to rid her mind and body of all the things this man could do to her. All the things he could make her feel.

  “Blaine—”

  His lips brushed against hers. She didn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his enchanting stare.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered. His hands were on her hips. His thumbs under her T-shirt, rubbing her bare skin.

  “I think it’s a great idea.” He smiled devilishly.

  She tried to wiggle from his grip as she packed herself against the railing to the stairs. “I don’t want you.” Neither the words nor the tone sounded very convincing.

  “Hmm.” He looked mildly amused. “That’s not what your body says.” His eyes glanced below the neckline.

  Her nipples tightened. “I’m cold.”

  “No, you’re hot. Probably on fire.”

  She moaned when his hand cupped the swell of her breast, his thumb fanning over her taut nipple.

  With the intention of pushing him away, she grabbed his wrist, but she just held it there as his forefinger and thumb turned and plucked her nipple.

  “Tell me you want me,” he whispered.

  “I want you,” she said. “But—”

  “No buts.” He kissed her nose, then her cheek. It was tender. Gentle. Then he kissed her mouth. Their tongues met with wild fury like the storm brewing outside. She leaned into his hard chest, ripping his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and lifting it over his head, forcing their lips apart. His bare chest raised up and down with a heavy breath. She reached out and ran her hands across his hard stomach muscles. She admired his beautifully sculptured body. Every inch of him was thick and hard. She began to fiddle with the buttons on his jeans. But he stopped her.

  Gentle hands lifted her shirt above her head. “So beautiful,” he said, tracing a path over the curve of her breast. He found the front clasp of her bra and released her aching mounds.

  She couldn’t concentrate on anything but his fingers gently tugging at her nipples, his lips on her neck, driving her mad with passion. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back. He gave pleasure to one breast with this hand and the other with his tongue. “Perfect,” he said as he knelt down and assaulted her stomach with soft kisses.

  He rolled her jeans down, tugging her underwear with them. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  He’d always been one to give her romantic compliments in and out of bed. His lovemaking always made her feel special. She opened her eyes to see him stepping back, staring at her naked body.

  “You like what you see?” With him, she’d always felt completely comfortable being sensual. Odd how that seemed to be like riding a bike, because with other men, she’d always felt the need to cover up and hide.

  He nodded and pointed to the stairs.

  “You first.” The wind howled, banging branches against the windows.

  “No.”

  The hardwood floor squeaked when she took a step toward him. His muscles twitched as she ran her hands over his chest.

  “Upstairs,” he said hoarsely as he laced his fingers through hers. All the way up the stairs, he never once took his eyes off her naked body. Once at the foot of his bed, he gently lifted her off the floor and placed her on the bed. He knelt in front of her. His hands gently spreading her legs and lifting them over his shoulders. She dropped to her elbows, arching her back. His hot breath tickled her right before he pressed his lips against her and his tongue dived into her. She looked down at him. His head buried between her legs. His long, dark hair flowing over her body.

  Clutching the comforter, she tried to hold her body as still as she could, savoring every sensation. Every stroke of her insides. His hand moved across her stomach, making its way to her breast. He took her nipple between his finger and thumb, turning the hard flesh left, right, and then tugging it away from her breast. She couldn’t take it anymore. She lifted her hips, then pushed down toward the bed. “Please,” she begged him, shifting her hips again.

  His thumb found her hard, throbbing mound. He fanned it a couple of times, while his tongue still swirled inside her. He lifted his head. His gaze met hers as he slid his fingers inside her, his other thumb still rubbing her. She spread her legs wide, resting her feet on the edge of the bed.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She could only nod.

  He pinched her hard, swollen nub, then rubbed his thumb over it in a circular motion. His fingers glided in and out of her swiftly and with purpose. He bent his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue, lapping harshly and sucking while his fingers still danced inside.

  She fell to her back, clutching her breasts, plucking at her own nipples. She arched her back, moaning. No one had ever been able to make her feel the way he did. She felt him switch from his tongue to his fingers again, tugging and making circular motions until her body quivered. And convulsed. He continued massaging her, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She closed her legs tight, holding his hands between her thighs, her stomach muscles still contracting with pleasure.

  He kissed her knees than stood, his hands undoing his belt buckle.

  “You had your fun,” she said. “My turn.”

  He smiled, dropping his hands, letting her undo his pants. “I’d say you had just a little bit of…” He hissed as she released him, taking the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the edges. She held him with one hand, stroking the base, while she licked and kissed the tip, the sides, then eventually took all she could into her mouth.

  He fisted a wad of her hair in his hand and tugged. She looked up at him, her eyelids heavy. She squeezed his hardness.

  “Stop,” he said.

  “I’d say you’re ready.”

  “Not yet.”

  After he’d found a condom by his bedside, he settled his broad hips between her parted legs and pushed down in one tortuously slow stroke. He repeated the motion a few times, his arms keeping the weight of his body off hers. He stared into her eyes with such passion and desire. She arched her back, shifting her hips.

  “I don’t want to hurt your back.”

  “You’re not,” she said, grinding her hips frantically against him.

  “But I might.” He rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

  She let out a small laugh. “You just wanted me on top.”

  “Well, there is that.” His hands encouraged her hips, and she rocked over him, slowly, teasing him, building up her own anticipation. His hands reached up and toyed with her nipples while she rocked back and forth and up and down. She could feel his thigh muscles tighten. His hands dug into her ass, guiding the motion.

  She leaned forward, pressing her hands on the bed, angling herself so when she grinded against him, every part of her was touched.

  He raised his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard. His tongue swirling roughly against the sensitive skin. His hands ran from the small of her back to cupping her ass, digging her fingers into her flesh. Her stomach tightened, and wetness poured out of her again, her body shuddering with delight.

  Blaine dropped his head. He held her hips still as he moved his until a guttural groan escaped his mouth and he slowed his p
ace, his hands releasing their tight grip. She dropped her head to his chest. Both gasping to catch their breath. They lay there for a long while. The only noise was their breathing.

  “Blaine?”

  “What?”

  “I’m getting cold.”

  He gently pushed her aside, arranging the comforter and the sheets so their bodies were covered.

  She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder, and he held her close.

  “Promise me you’re not going to run,” he whispered.

  “I can’t promise,” she said. “I don’t want to, but I can’t promise.”

  “That’s an honest answer.” He kissed her temple.

  Blaine held Kaylee in his arms, knowing nothing had changed. He’d like nothing more than to hide out in his tiny apartment and make love to her over and over again, but that wouldn’t do either one of them any good. He had to first find out who had killed her father, while protecting her from the mob.

  A humming noise followed by his nightstand vibrating snapped him from his trance. He snagged his cell phone and flipped it open.

  “Hello” he said, not letting Kaylee go as she tried to slip from his grasp.

  “Blaine, it’s Hadley.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to talk to you and Kaylee about Rutherford.”

  Blaine kissed her softly on the forehead. “Okay.”

  “In person. Is she there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be over shortly.” The phone went dead.

  Blaine dropped the cell to the floor. “We’re going to have company soon.” He shifted the covers, giving him better access to her naked body.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it feel like I’m doing?” Her skin was still beaded with sweat from their last encounter, but he hadn’t had enough of her yet. He ripped the covers off their bodies altogether.

  She reached for the blankets. “It’s cold.”

  “Let me warm you up.”

  She’d always been the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  “Who’s coming here?” she asked.

  “Who cares?” he said, as headlights beamed through the window. “Hadley wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be right over.”