Chance Encounter

magical, something-”

She broke off and shot him a quick glance before turning away, but it was enough to see the spark of heat, the slight blush to her cheeks. “Never mind.” She slipped off her vest and kneeled on the ground, stuffing it in her backpack. Her hair fell over her face, and she was half turned from him, but there was no mistaking her emotions, which were all over her face.

Confusion.

A hunger to rival his.

And hurt.

It was the last that killed him. “Ally-”

“We’d better get back, it’s a long walk.”

“Brian’s in school, or he’d better be,” he heard himself saying. “We can ask him about the scarf later.” He carefully removed it from the tree.

Still hunkered down by her backpack, she looked up warily. “Why would you want to stay here when you can hardly even look at me? You certainly can’t talk to me. Or be friends with me the way you are with every single other person on your staff. In fact, if you’re not yelling at me, you’re-”

“I’m…?”

“Kissing me,” she whispered. “You need to stop that. It just…messes with my head.”

He found himself squatting beside her, reaching out to touch her arm. “It messes with mine, too.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t seem to do that.” His fingers skimmed up her forearm past her elbow, passing lightly over her upper arm. She didn’t so much as blink. What was she thinking? For once, he didn’t have a clue. His fingers dallied at her shoulder, and she shuddered.

“When you touched me before,” he said softly, in apology. “When you hugged me-”

“I shouldn’t have,” she interrupted. “It was silly, I was just happy, that’s all. Forget it.”

He wanted to see her smile again. He didn’t understand it, or the need to be the one responsible for that smile. But then again, he’d never understood half the emotions she caused in him.

So he stopped thinking and acted, slowly standing, drawing her up as well. Their bodies were close, and he entwined one hand with hers. With his other hand, he gently slid the scarf over her cheek, her jaw.

Ally closed her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. When he stroked her again, she made a sound that surely told him exactly what he was doing to her. “Don’t worry,” she managed. “Lucy will be back really soon.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m leaving.”

“Yes.”

She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to his, and there was something so hot, so intense in the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to consume her, inhale her, devour her. But they weren’t intimate. They weren’t even friends. “You’ll be glad when I go.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, in complete contradiction to the regret in his eyes. He touched her again.

Again she closed her eyes, needing to protect herself from that look, from the wonder and the heat and the affection, because it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real.

He couldn’t really feel those things for her. “You want to stay away from me, remember?”

“I can’t,” he said softly. The cool scarf slid over her neck now. His thighs brushed hers. His chest slid close too, in a touch so light she wasn’t sure it was real. But her nipples hardened and her heart sped up. She gripped his fingers tight. “Chance…”

“When you touch me,” he said, his voice as silky as the scarf, “I get instantly hard. Did you know that?”

“N-no-”

He rocked his hips to hers.

“Um…yes.” He was most definitely hard.

He rocked again.

Very hard.

She felt the scarf through her thin, V-necked T-shirt as he slid it down further, over her collar bone. His eyes followed the movement with dark intensity as he skimmed it over a breast and the very turgid tip. Unable to contain her small gasp, she reached behind her and grasped the tree so that she didn’t collapse. “Chance-”

“I want to taste you again,” he murmured into her hair as he dropped the scarf and wrapped his arms around her.

“No kisses,” she said quickly, trying to pull back, but he held her right where he wanted her, not hurting her, not letting her go, either. “Remember? We just decided.”

He simply brushed his mouth across her cheek and jaw, to the soft spot beneath her ear, where he gently drew in a patch of skin and sucked.

Was it possible for bones to melt? “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it feels good. You feel good.” He brushed his lips over hers. “You taste good, too.” And then he used his tongue, slowly, thoroughly. Expertly.

Instant heat. Instant need.

He angled her head where he wanted her and brought her against him, hard. At the feel of him, so wild, so aroused, she shivered. He simply drew her even closer, his hands sliding over her waist, her hips, her back, untucking her shirt so he could touch bare skin, and when he did, he moaned at the feel of her.

It was a struggle to remember they had no future. That he was determined to be alone to live as he chose. That she was determined not to mess up her life again. She didn’t want to care for him, didn’t want to care for anyone this way, at least not now.

She wanted her freedom, too.

But freedom didn’t have to mean celibacy. She could want him, have him, then walk away, couldn’t she? It could be part of the adventure. Knowing that, she let herself sink into how he made her feel. He was so good at making her aware of nothing but him, at making her skin hot, her mind blank. Making her want to do things she’d never thought of before. So she kissed him back with all she had, which was with far more emotion than finesse, but he didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t stop touching him, running her hands over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest and the bunched muscles of his arms.

With a low, heartfelt groan, he pressed her back against the tree. She felt his fingers stroke her sides beneath her shirt, outlining her ribs. His warm, calloused hands skimmed over her belly, tingling every inch of her heated, damp body. “So soft,” he whispered. Nibbling his way to her ear, he let out a rough sound of pleasure as his hands closed over her breasts. His fingers were long and warm, and he glided his thumbs over her tight nipples, back and forth, making her whimper for more. One of his hands slipped down, down, past her bottom, her thighs, catching her behind the knee, lifting her leg up to his hip, so that he could press his hips to hers and glide the neediest part of him to the neediest part of her.

She nearly lost it. Her limbs turned to rubber, her vision was interrupted by stars and her head hit the tree trunk with a light thud as she cried out his name, so close, so close…

“I’ve wanted to touch you this way since I first saw you,” he whispered against her ear.

Beyond manners, beyond rational thought, much less humility, she grasped his shirt in her fists. “Then touch me. Touch me now.”

“Here?” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her throat. He sounded as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Rough. Sexy.

Well, she’d wanted wild, hadn’t she? And he was making her wild, no doubt. “Here.”

His deep, dark gaze searched hers for exactly one heartbeat before he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. With a flick of his fingers, her front-clasp bra opened and he took her aching flesh into his hands, making them both gasp with pleasure.

She tugged off his shirt, too. So far gone she didn’t care that they had only the sky and the trees for coverage. At the sight of all his dark, edgy beauty, right here in front of her, all hot and aroused, for her, she nearly sank to the ground.

With no little amount of awe, she ran her fingers over hard muscle and hot skin that rippled with strength and quivered with desire at her touch. Marveling at the feel of him, she wanted more, and tried to get it. Bold for the first time in her life, she cupped him in her hands. He blew out a serrated breath and captured her wrists. Gathering