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  “He asked me about driving it for him in the Moonshine Run. Since your father can’t do it.”

  That brought her gaze up. “Are you going to?”

  “Anything to make my future grandfather-in-law happy,” he said with a wink, killing her again.

  “You know, when we break up, I think Jeb’s going to take it harder than anyone. My parents will both be relieved, but Jeb’s going to be so disappointed.”

  “Disappointed for you, or for himself?”

  “Oh, himself, definitely,” she said laughing. “But I’ll still hate seeing him hurt.”

  “This breakup. Have you given any thought to that?”

  She shrugged. “I just assumed you’d leave to join your team, and I’d stay here because this is where I belong.”

  “Staying in Dahlia with a broken heart. Your father’s prediction come true.”

  She didn’t care. “All I want is for them to talk. To fix things between them, or to move on. As long as that happens, I can deal with their I-told-you-so’s.”

  He seemed to give that consideration. “Are you going to tell them? When all is said and done?”

  “What, that we were faking it?” When he nodded, she said, “I guess I’ll play it by ear.”

  “What if I finish here and leave before they settle things?”

  Judging by her parents’ earlier reaction, she hoped things would move quickly. Still…“How long are you planning to stay?”

  “As long as it takes, but no longer than I have to.”

  “Then we’ll have to make sure our act is convincing,” she said before she could stop herself.

  “You want to explain that? Because I could take it to mean…wait a minute.” He swung up to a sitting position, his frown ruthless. “This convincing thing. Is that why you came to see me at the pits? Why you kissed me in the hauler? Were you auditioning me for the part of your fiancé?”

  She swallowed what remained of her nerves. “Yes and no.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He got to his feet, and started pacing the room, stopping with each pass to look at her.

  “It was more about auditioning me.”

  “Auditioning you.”

  She nodded. “It’s why I brought up what happened at Tater’s kegger. To see if you remembered.”

  “You think I would’ve forgotten?”

  “I don’t know. We never talked about it, and you left Dahlia that summer.”

  Every move he made radiated frustration, as did the hitch in his voice. “Cardin, Jesus. You were there—”

  “And I was drunk,” she reminded him.

  “Even so, you had to know I wanted you. That Kim was nothing but a means to an end.” He quit pacing. “I’m not particularly proud of how that night went down, but seven years was a long time ago. I’ve done some growing up since then.”

  “That’s what I thought. What I hoped I hadn’t imagined.” She paused. She could barely breathe. Barely think. Barely find the words she needed to say. “Especially after what happened the other day.”

  He hunkered down in front of her then, desperate. “Tell me what you hoped, Cardin. Tell me before I burst a blood vessel here trying to figure it out.”

  “That I wasn’t the only one who’d been turned on…and that I’m not the only one still wanting.” Admitting those things to herself had been easy. Admitting them now to Trey, not so much. The look in his eyes had her struggling to catch a breath.

  And when he came for her, she thought she would die.

  8

  WANTING.

  It was a word with which Trey was intimately familiar when it came to his feelings for Cardin. And with her gaze—fear and hope tied into her longing—pulling him in, it was the only emotion he knew…his heart racing, his body growing hard. His skin tingling and hot.

  He sat back on his heels, his hands on his thighs. He wanted to reach for her, he wanted to speak. He couldn’t move his fingers any more than he could work his tongue. She did this to him. Made him dumb.

  She took pity and smiled, reaching out and curling her fingers into his shirt and tugging him down. He caught his weight on his palms as he covered her, the layers of clothing between them a barrier he both welcomed and loathed.

  He wanted her naked. He wanted her naked now. But he wanted even more to savor the journey of stripping away the fabric. Learning her, the exploration and discovery…it had been such a long seven years.

  Earlier, before joining him, she’d flicked off the switch in the kitchen. The shade of the table lamp cast but a small pool of light on the other side of the room. Looking down into her eyes, however, Trey was able to see everything he needed to.

  This wasn’t a joke. She wasn’t playing him. She was right where she wanted to be.

  “I wondered when this would finally happen,” he told her.

  “I didn’t think it ever would,” was her response.

  He wedged one of his legs between hers and shifted to the side, reaching up to brush her hair away from her neck before nuzzling her there. She arched to give him better access, and blew out a heady sigh. “You have no idea how good you feel.”

  And she had no idea that the way she tasted, like sugar and salt, the way she smelled, like warm lemons and limes, the way she felt beneath him, soft yet firm, was so much better than what he’d imagined, that he might as well have not bothered to imagine anything at all.

  He raised his head again, caught her gaze again, had a brief bout of conscience telling him to go slow but ignored it. He had to believe that she would understand, that she shared his desperation. He kissed her, hard, slanting his mouth over hers with a hunger than became a craving where nothing mattered but having her.

  He needed to touch her. He needed her to touch him. They had lived with this thing between them for too long already, the physical attraction, the emotional unknown. They had to get to the other side of it and sort out what came next from there.

  She moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles and urging him closer. He lowered more of his weight, pressed her with his chest and his hips, slid his tongue along the length of hers when her kiss begged. They bumped teeth, bruised lips, nibbled and nipped as if they’d been starving for each other all of these years.

  Trey supposed they had been. That night at Tater’s kegger had been the end of Trey’s time in Dahlia, but it had been the beginning of something with Cardin that had never been given a chance.

  He supposed, too, that this chance wasn’t a fair one. He wasn’t sticking around. She wasn’t about to leave. Their engagement was a sham with a purpose. All they were doing was giving in to a lust that had grown too intense to contain.

  Except…he knew that wasn’t true. This was more than physical desire. It was a matter of the heart.

  He lifted his head, rolled onto his elbow, looked down. Her face was flushed. Her eyes glassy with arousal. Her lips wet and swollen from his assault. She was gorgeous, and his gut tightened at the thought of having her.

  “Listen, Cardin.” He brushed her hair from her eyes.

  She reached for his wrist and held it. “Shh. Don’t talk. Not now.”

  Talking wasn’t his first choice either, but…“I have to know. To be sure.”

  Her hand slid from his wrist to his fingers. She brought them down to cover her breast. “Please don’t talk, Trey. I don’t want to be thoughtful and logical about anything right now. I just want to feel.”

  She moved his fingers again, this time sliding them beneath her T-shirt. The material of her bra was a tease, the thinnest of barriers separating them. He molded her breast to fit his palm, rolled her nipple until it peaked.

  When she groaned, he dipped his head, sucking her nipple between his lips, wetting both her flesh and the fabric. She raised one knee, her other caught flat beneath him, and rolled toward him as if she couldn’t bear the distance anymore than he.

  Neither could he bear the clothes they still wore. He lifted up, stripped off h
is shirt, helped her get rid of hers before unhooking her bra. Seeing her bare breasts…his heart pounded as hard as it had seven years ago when he’d looked up to find her watching him from the door.

  The memory sent blood rushing south to stiffen the part of his body tired of being denied the woman he most wanted. He crawled on top of her and lowered his head, plumping her breasts together, kissing her nipples, sucking them, laving one then the other with the flat of his tongue.

  She didn’t let him play long, but surged up and shoved at his shoulders, rolling him to his back on the second sleeping bag, and climbing up to straddle his thighs. The look on her face was possessive, as if now that she had him, she wouldn’t be letting him go. He wasn’t going to argue. This was where he wanted to be.

  “My turn,” she said and smiled, giving him no time to brace himself before her mouth was on his chest. She searched out his nipples in the swirls of his hair, flicking her tongue across them then nipping with the edge of her teeth. He felt more than heard the sound he made, his entire body caught up in what she was doing with her mouth.

  She moved lower, the tips of her breasts dragging down his abdomen. He tucked his chin to his chest, but her head blocked his view. He could easily have closed his eyes for the ride, but she was at his waistband now, her fingers working free the buttons of his fly, and this was something he wanted to see.

  She kissed the head of his cock through the cotton of his briefs, ran her tongue in a line along the elastic band on his belly. Propped up on his elbows, he lifted his hips. She skinned away his jeans; they caught at his ankles and his boots, and she left them there, lifting him free from his shorts before tugging them down his thighs.

  He wasn’t standing in a dark bedroom wishing Cardin were with him. Wishing had given way to reality. And nothing had ever felt so right. Smiling, she took his cock in her mouth, ringed her fingers beneath the head and closed her lips above them, using her tongue to stroke the rigid underside seam, to toy with the slit in the tip.

  For several long moments she held his gaze, but finally she closed her eyes. He kept his open; he couldn’t look away, not from this. Her black hair fell over her shoulder to tickle his legs and hinder his view of her breasts. But he felt them, their softness and weight as she shifted her position, her nipples grazing his thighs.

  He wanted to surge into her mouth, to see her take all of him. He wanted to come, to live the fantasy that had been with him so long, it was hard to remember that it wasn’t real. Real hadn’t happened until now…and it was happening way too fast. He was going to be done before they really even got started.

  Luckily for his pride she released his cock and came up onto her knees. While he rid himself of his shoes and pants, dug a condom from his wallet and rolled it on, Cardin stripped down to nothing.

  He lay back, watching as the light played over the skin of this woman he’d wanted to take to bed for a good quarter of his life. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. If it was all in his head, he wanted to stay there forever. But it wasn’t, and she crawled over him, her breasts swinging to tease him, her belly sliding against his cock as it stood straight.

  He could smell the salty warmth of her sex as she opened to take him in, her moisture and her warmth closing around him. He groaned, then reached for her, winding his fingers into her hair and pulling her close for a kiss.

  Their tongues mated, a mimicking of the in and out motion as he thrust into her, as she raised her hips then pressed down, grinding her clit to the base of his shaft.

  Later, they would make love. Later, they would take time to learn one another’s bodies. When they were done here, they would spend hours finding hot spots and places to tickle and just how to touch. And they would talk. But right now, he had nothing to spare but for this.

  She pulled her mouth from his and arched her spine, tossing back her head. He reached for her breasts, kneaded, sucked, biting the plump flesh and bruising her. She cried out, then brought her mouth to his neck and nipped him in return.

  He pushed one of his legs through hers and flipped her over, their bodies still joined, perspiration gleaming on her skin, her pupils dilated with wicked heat that sent his body’s temperature soaring, his emotions into a fever pitch of hunger.

  Braced above her, his hands on the sleeping bag, her hands thrown above her head, he grit his teeth, his jaw taut, and ground his cock into her sex until her whimpers and labored breathing told him he was hitting everything just right.

  She hooked her heels over his thighs beneath the cheeks of his ass, and rocked against him, squeezing and milking him as he drove deep, both of them sweating, straining, fighting to hold back and enjoy the long, hard ride.

  But the crash came quickly, a fast and furious fire that consumed him body and soul. He knew she was with him, felt her following him into the spin, holding him tight as if fearing he would leave her before she was done.

  He wasn’t going anywhere, and he lowered himself to cover her completely so she would know that he was sticking around. And that as far as he was concerned, the night had just begun.

  9

  CARDIN WOKE EARLY, ALONE, and to the most blissful silence ever. Considering blissful was the last word she would have chosen to describe her life these days, the quiet was a joy, and very welcome. She didn’t exactly live in a madhouse, but she no longer had anything close to this peaceful calm at home.

  Now that Delta had moved out and Cardin had moved back to live with Eddie and Jeb, she had the second floor of the family house all to herself. But even from her upstairs rooms, she was constantly aware of Eddie in the kitchen banging pots and pans, or of Jeb in his garage banging car parts. Eddie found all of life’s answers while cooking and her grandfather, well…

  If Jeb had his druthers, he’d spend his days working at the Speedway, or on the road with any team that would take him on—though he’d always had a soft spot for Corley Motors, and for the man with whom Cardin had spent the night. Which meant hiding the truth about her relationship with Trey from her grandfather would require extraordinary skill.

  And speaking of Trey…

  She supposed she should get up and see where he was, what he was doing, what he wanted her to do. What he was thinking after what they’d done last night. How the tension between them had changed now that they’d scratched their itch. But she wasn’t going to do anything without first injecting a whole lot of coffee into her system.

  Tugging on her blue jeans, socks and sneakers, and pulling her T-shirt over her head, she made a quick stop in the bathroom to wash her face, and brush her teeth and hair. Once in the kitchen, she found Trey’s coffee machine, a case of bottled water, and an unopened can of Folgers.

  While the coffee brewed, she searched out sugar, powdered creamer and two mugs, then carried both out to the barn where she’d heard the sound of activity when she’d stepped onto the porch.

  She had no idea how early he’d left the house—and her—to start working. He’d told her it would take weeks to sort out the mess of tools, auto parts and twenty-odd years of accumulated junk his family had stored in the outbuildings. After that he’d start on the equally cluttered house before finishing up with the acreage—the mowing, the fencing, the heavy-duty nurturing to get something to flourish besides weeds.

  The morning air was deliciously cool, not quite cold enough to frost her breath, but close. The sun was just topping the ridge to the east, shooting arrows of light through the property’s trees. She breathed deeply of spring coming to life, the morning’s dew intensifying the heady, verdant smells.

  And speaking of heady…

  Twenty feet from the barn door, she came to a stop. Trey had just walked out. He had on blue jeans, work boots and a denim shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms, the tails untucked, the front unsnapped. The shirt teased her, the way it hung open, revealing next to nothing yet still stirring her blood.

  He was frowning, looking down at a rusted piece of metal in his hands. He turned it over,
held it up as if he needed the light to see. When he lowered it was when he caught sight of her and the drinks she carried. She wasn’t sure which was responsible for the smile that shooed away his frown.

  “Is that for me?”

  She cocked her head to the side and considered how much better the day already seemed. “Good morning to you, too.”

  She didn’t hold out the second of the coffees for him to take, but teased him with it instead. He came closer. She kept her gaze on his as she sipped from her heavy white mug, hiding her grin and her giddy rush of nerves behind it.

  He stopped in front of her, and she made the mistake of lowering her gaze from his face to the exposed strip of his chest. It was either give him his cup of coffee or bury her nose against him and breathe in. She remembered so clearly how he smelled.

  Their fingers brushed when he took the drink from her hand. He swallowed a gulp, then said, “Good morning, Cardin. I hope the floor wasn’t too hard on you.”

  The floor wasn’t the hardness that had made sleep difficult. She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I slept like a baby, swaddled in my sleeping bag.”

  “In my sleeping bag, you mean.”

  “Thank you. It made the floor bearable.” As had the warmth of his body, she thought, then quickly changed the subject. “You must’ve hit town in the middle of the night. I saw the loaf of bread and eggs. Would you like me to cook breakfast? I think I can manage the hot plate.”

  He lowered his coffee slowly, his gaze as warm as the sun on her shoulders, as the ceramic mug heating her hands. “I didn’t bring you out here to wait on me.”

  “You didn’t bring me out here at all. I volunteered to come.”

  “To help me. Not to serve me.”