Sand Angel (3 page)

“Zoë?”

“Now,” she firmly demanded. She had to get away.

When he released her, a wave of relief almost swamped her. Her toes curled in her stiff boots, the discomfort enough to help her focus inwardly, gain the strength she needed.

It smarted, but she forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Nothing to say.” She walloped him on the chest with an open palm.

Before he could say anything else, she moved quickly toward her quad. Throwing one leg over the quad, she said, “Let’s ride,” before she crammed her helmet on her head. With both hands she raised the goggles that rested on the mouthpiece of her headgear to shield her eyes.

No one saw the first tear fall or the one that followed it.

She needed to escape. Needed to outrun Drew’s memory.

A twist of the key and the bike roared to life. The vibration between her thighs did nothing to quell the heat that simmered since she first saw Drew. It was like a flash flood as a million sensations seduced her. The achingly tender way he entered her body that first time, stealing her innocence as well as her heart. The repeat performances that had left her hungry to learn more, experience more. Each time more heated, more carnal.

And then the devastating loneliness.

Zoë didn’t wait for Josh as she popped the clutch and gassed it. All four tires dug into the sand, throwing it everywhere. A gust of warm air hit her in the face as she applied more fuel, tearing away from Gecko campground and Drew.

There was freedom in the wind. Speed was the only thing that fed her soul these days. But the Dunes were no place for stupid moves.

The quiet beauty of the ocean of sand lulled people into a false security. One minute the ground would be beneath her. The next she could be flying off a slip-face, a miniature cliff, soaring fifteen feet or higher in the air. The crashes weren’t a pretty sight.

Zoë knew never to ride alone or to venture farther than she could see. Well, one out of two wasn’t bad. Chalk her up as only half-stupid.

Adrenaline was like acid pumping through her veins as she approached an enormous dune cut by wind and weather. The tallest dunes were two hundred feet high and scared the shit out of newcomers.

But not Zoë, especially today.

That little hormone that stimulated her heart and increased her blood sugar, muscular strength and endurance was quickly pushing Drew to the back of her mind. All she saw was the challenge—the top of the mountain. The surface was smooth, no tire tracks announcing that anyone dared to approach it. That made it Zoë’s mountain. It dared her to conquer it. This was what she longed for—the challenge, the isolated bubble that surrounded her when she went into the zone. It was her mountain.

That was until an idiot crossed in front of her, making her swerve to avoid hitting him.

Concentration blown, she circled around, preparing herself for another approach when the same lame-dick passed in front of her again. Fit to be tied, she came to an abrupt stop. Pushing her goggles down upon the rim of her helmet, she tore her headgear off and placed it on the handlebars.

“I’ll kill the sonofabitch,” she mumbled beneath her breath as she stomped toward the rider idling his quad.

When she got within several feet of the rider, he pulled his goggles and helmet off.

Drew.

A gush of frustration pushed from her lungs. The damn man had changed clothes. Instead of the blue and white Fox ensemble, he now wore a matching yellow and black getup. Josh and Drew were the same size, muscular and six-two. She’d forgotten that Josh owned more ensembles than she did. It would be no hardship in sharing his clothes and boots with Drew.

Damn, he was sexy sitting on that bike.

The vibrant color was striking against his dark skin. She shook her head, pushing the thought away. She should have recognized Josh’s spare quad. Just then an identical quad passed by, and then another.

Okay. So maybe she wouldn’t have.

“What the hell are you doing?” she barked.

“Stopping you from killing yourself.” He cut the engine, threw his leg over the quad and stood up. Zoë didn’t miss the concern glowing in his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

“Killing myself? Don’t you realize that your idiotic attempts could have killed us both?”

“What was I supposed to do—ride up beside you and ask you nicely to pull over?” When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he said, “You would have tried to outrun me. Right?”

“Yeah. But—”

“But nothing. That hill is too much for you. Can’t you see no one is challenging it?”

All she could do was laugh at his attempt to protect her. “Now? After all this time you think you have a right to interfere in my life? To protect me?” She shook her head and started to turn away when he reached out, connecting with her arm, to jerk her body against his.

She didn’t have her shirt on, only the exercise bra. His jersey teased her skin, rasping her tender nipples against the cotton of her bra. His warm breath swept across her face. The smell of freshly applied deodorant and cologne, warm and spicy, assailed her.

When she opened her mouth to speak he stole her breath away with a kiss. Not just any kiss, but one with pressure and heat as he stroked his tongue across her now-sealed lips. She couldn’t open up to him. She couldn’t afford a taste of what she’d missed for three years.

His tongue was as persistent as she was obstinate. He nipped her bottom lip. She whimpered, the small cry parting her lips. He took full advantage of her moment of weakness and swept in to deepen the caress.

Hot and moist, his tongue stroked every inch of her mouth, breaking down her resistance one layer at a time. Arms loosely by her sides, she melted against his chest. For a moment she feared she might fall if he hadn’t tightened his embrace. It took all she had not to return his affection, to stay impassive.

“Kiss me,” he whispered against her mouth. His lips were featherlight as he slid them back and forth, a wicked enticement.

“No,” she said emphatically.

“Kiss me, baby.” No fair using the endearment he had used so many years ago. It made her tremble, causing her breaths to be ragged and audible as he shamelessly continued. “Kiss me like you used to. Hungry, as if you could eat me up.” There was a plea to his voice she had never heard before.

“No.” She wouldn’t give in to him. Even when he traced the bottom of her lip with his sinful tongue, she refused him.

He had never been forceful with her, so when he cupped her head, her immediate response was to pull back, to resist. More pressure was applied as his eyes grew darker with desire and their noses touched. They were both breathing heavily. No words between them, only the sexual tension that cried out for release.

But she would fight it. She had no other choice—she couldn’t let him past the barrier she had erected. Besides, she didn’t want him. She had a new life to live.

A sandpapery growl rumbled deep within his chest. His nostrils flared.

Zoë had never heard or seen anything so primitive, so arousing. In a moment of desire, she forgot where they were. For just a second she thought of giving in, of taking what she wanted. That was until two girls in a sand rail slowed down and said, “Get a room.” A stream of laughter followed as they revved the engine and sped forward.

Zoë trembled as she tried to reel her emotions in.

“We could, you know.” His voice was deep and coarse, his eyes flames of fire burning her up with his heat.

She couldn’t think. “Could what?” She had to keep her distance and hold on to the last bit of strength she had. There was no way she could taste him and then walk away, because that’s what would become of this moment of weakness.

“Get a room, baby.” His fingers wove through her hair. “I’ve dreamed of holding you again.” His lips brushed hers so lightly she thought that maybe she imagined it. “Kissing you.” His nose caressed hers, his eyelids heavy with desire. “Zoë.” Her name was just a whisper. “Let me make love to you.”

Zoë’s breath caught in her throat as a rush of moisture dampened her panties. How many lonely nights had she thought the same thing, dreamed that her cold vibrator was Drew’s hard and thick length slowly parting her folds, pushing deep and fast into her body?

But in the end she was always left shivering and crying, still unfulfilled, or worse—in the arms of a strange man.

No. She wasn’t about to relive this nightmare again. Heat rolled across her face. Her body tensed. She wasn’t a toy. He couldn’t drift back into her life and fuck with her head.

Damn him to hell.

“Why wait for a room?” she cooed, bracing her palms against his heaving chest.

He sucked in a mouthful of air and pressed his hips to hers. His firm erection dug into her belly.

Good. He would feel the full effects of her next words. “Just drop your pants, hon. I’ll give you one here for old times’ sake.”

Talk about hell freezing over. He went ramrod stiff. The fingers in her hair tightened as he pulled her head back so that her neck arched, strained. A nerve ticced in his forehead. The veins and tendons in his throat became more pronounced. “Don’t ever cheapen what we had, Zoë.” He sounded angry, like she felt.

Her laugh came out choked. “What we had? We didn’t have anything worth holding on to. You proved that.” She pulled her head away from his fingers. A mass of tingles splintered across her skull as her hair roots were stressed. His grip tightened further, increasing the sensation, an ache she craved. Pain was something she had learned to live with, even desired. “Don’t come knocking on my door thinking those old feelings are alive. They died the day you left.” The venom in her words must have struck the right chord, because he released her as if she had sprouted horns. The furious expression that twisted his features made her take a step backward.

Zoë didn’t wait for a response. Without another word she spun around, hopped back upon her quad. She didn’t take the time to put on her helmet and goggles. She just slung them over the handlebars, started the engine and rode away.

Chapter Three

What happened to the innocent, loving girl Drew had known? The woman who sped away on a four-wheel ATV was not the one he left three years ago. He crawled upon the seat of his quad. Had she erased him from her mind because his leaving had hurt her?

Did he really have to ask? Her response to him revealed her fury. He had been a selfish prick. Both of them had paid the price. The question in his mind remained—was there still something left in her heart for him, something worth fighting for?

As he watched sand rails and one quad after another pass by, he felt his anger growing. He had written, apologized. Even as hard as it was, he admitted that he was wrong to have taken the assignment. In one letter he told her he’d come home if she’d have him. Yet each of his letters had been returned unopened.

What was he supposed to have done? Shit-canned his career and returned home to a woman who didn’t want him? Lose everything?

Fuck it. He turned the key with too much pressure, making the engine screech. If he had to tie her to her quad, she’d listen to him.

The sun was beginning to set as Drew rolled into camp. Josh already had the grill going and the scent of hamburgers tempted him.

He had changed his clothes, but his hair was still full of sand from Zoë’s previous roosting. Removing his helmet, he could feel the tiny granules of sand against his sweaty scalp. They itched as he scratched, trying to relieve the discomfort. He needed a shower and another change of clothes, preferably something more comfortable than riding gear.

But first he needed to square things away with Zoë.

As he walked up to Josh, his friend pushed a cold beer into his hand. “Where is she?” Drew asked before pressing the can to his lips. The liquid was cool and refreshing against his parched throat.

“Toy hauler. Didn’t look happy. Whad’ya say to her?” Drew didn’t miss the concern that darkened Josh’s eyes.

Drew ignored him as he headed for Zoë’s trailer. She hadn’t even loaded her quad or raised the ramp. The backend of the trailer was agape. He took that as an invitation and stepped in. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, but he heard water running and looked toward the small bathroom.

Showering.

He’d give anything to join her, to soap her supple body, his hands touching every inch of skin. Instead he gazed around the trailer and waited.

Toy haulers had become all the rage. As he scanned past the small kitchen, he wondered if Zoë lived out of the trailer. It was immaculate. No oil stains on the floor where her bike and quad usually resided. From where he stood he could see her bedroom—her bed. What he would give to take her right here—right now. Feel her warm, wet body sheathe his aching cock. And Lord knows it was aching as it strained against his riding pants.

He had to change the course his thoughts were taking or he’d lose it before Zoë even got out of the shower.

On the walls were a couple pictures of Josh, their mother and father. Still, a cold or lonely sensation lingered between the walls. Compact. It had everything one needed. Running water, refrigerator, oven, heating and cooling, even a small color TV sat on the counter. Across from the kitchen were a table and two bench seats and a full-size couch. The bathroom and bedroom were the only areas separated by a sliding door, which was open.