As if she could read his mind, Kensie’s expression shifted, lines appearing between her eyebrows. Colter didn’t want her to think. He didn’t want to think, either. He only wanted to feel.
He leaned in, pressed his lips softly to hers, letting her decide. For a second, he thought she’d change her mind. Then her arms looped tight around his neck, her eyes closed and her mouth moved against his.
All the built-up pressure in his chest released and he sighed against her, loving the silky softness of her lips, the raspiness of her tongue seeking his.
It wasn’t enough. He pulled her in even tighter, suddenly hating the sensible coat he’d had her buy. He kissed her harder, faster, desperate for more.
She met each stroke of his tongue, her fingers sliding through his short hair, not enough to grasp. She rose even higher on her toes, giving their kiss a new angle.
A different kind of pressure rose inside him. He could lose himself in this woman. Release all his pain and his past and try to forget himself with a few hours of pleasure.
He forced his hands away from her back, shifted them to her hips. Misunderstanding his intent, she tilted her hips toward him, almost changing his mind. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t use her to soothe the aches in his soul any more than he wanted her to do the same with him.
Because whether she thought so or not, this kiss wasn’t really about him. It couldn’t be. They barely knew each other. But, on some level, they understood each other.
He knew her pain, the way losing her sister must have followed her through her life, a silent, torturous ghost. He knew the razor-thin line between hope and desperation, between love and torment.
Using his grip on her hips to anchor her, he leaned back, simultaneously peeling her off him. “We shouldn’t do this.”
His voice didn’t even sound like his. It was deeper, gruffer than usual.
She blinked back at him, her cheeks flushed bright red and no comprehension in her gaze.
The fog of desire surrounding her made him want to pull her right back in. Instead, he told her, “Maybe I should be dead, but I’m not. So stop looking at me like I am.”
Kensie’s lips twisted up, lines raking her forehead. “What?”
Her voice wasn’t right either. It was breathy, higher pitched. Way too sexy.
He steeled himself, trying not to lean back in. “You heard me.”
Then he turned away so she wouldn’t see how little this had to do with his proving something. He might have started walking toward her because of that, but it had quickly become something very different.
But not enough. And she deserved better.
Reaching on top of a cabinet, Colter pulled down his shotgun and dug out a box of shells from the drawer. When he felt like he had some control over his emotions, he turned back toward her.
She looked equal parts stunned and confused.
“Let’s do this,” he said, tapping his leg for Rebel to follow and heading for the door before he could change his mind.
HOW COULD A man who didn’t think he belonged among the living make her feel so alive?
At twenty-seven, she’d had a handful of long-term relationships, even one that her parents had pushed her to make permanent. She’d had a handful of flings, too. But none of them had made her feel even close to what she’d felt with Colter for a few minutes up in his cabin. Minutes he regretted, if his abrupt stop was anything to go by.
He’d strode out of the cabin—with a shotgun, of all things—and Kensie had been left rooted to the floor. It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to get it together and follow.
Now here they were. Back on the edge of town where Derrick’s store was located, except this time they were tackling a bigger stretch of stores. It was about the size of downtown Desparre, but the stores were more spread out, tucked away in a maze of side streets. That was Colter’s excuse for them to split up and find out if anyone here could give them more precise information about Henry. That, and the fact that it was rapidly getting dark and he wanted her safely back at her hotel before the sun fully set. The reality, she suspected, had to do with that kiss.
It had started out slow, almost like a first kiss, even though they’d already shared one on the street. But then it had shifted. She wasn’t sure which one of them had punched the gas, but suddenly, she hadn’t been able to get enough of him. It had felt like a million degrees inside her winter gear as he’d heated her up, but she’d been certain she was about to shed all of it. About to fall into bed with a man she hardly knew.
The idea made her cheeks flush even now, and she’d barely been able to look at him during the drive over. Embarrassment, yes, but also regret. Falling for Colter was a bad idea for so many reasons, and yet she’d take the heartache later for a night with him now.
That’s how you feel right this minute, a little voice in her head whispered. But what about when you’re back in Chicago, all by yourself and missing him?
The idea made her restless, antsy for a glimpse of Colter and Rebel, to reassure herself he was still close. Once he’d parked the truck, he glanced at her, his expression inscrutable, just staring for a long moment. Then he’d suggested she work her magic with some of the townspeople while he went into the rowdy bar and
