His Southern Temptation(6)

By: Robin Covington

Opening his eyes, Taylor filled his vision. She was beautiful, her perfection marred only by the confusion lingering in the depths of her gaze. Lucky knew his expression mirrored hers. They were two sides of a twisted coin. She was the first to break the silence, her voice hushed and a little hoarse. “I heard you’re back in town for good.”

“Yes. My folks are in trouble with the farm and I’m going to buy them out.” He swallowed the lump of dread in this throat. He knew the answer to his question already, but had to hear it out loud to make it real. “Are you staying?”

The fierce truth of her words sparked in her eyes and tightened her lips into a thin line, even though her tone was just a little bit above a whisper. “No. Never.”

And there was the final rub.

They were always one step out of sync. In the same orbit, circling each other, but on separate paths. The problem was that somewhere along the way he’d started wanting more, wanting her for more than a few stolen days. She didn’t. And that was why he hadn’t gone back to her in the last two years. They were wrong for each other.

But it didn’t matter.

It was the pull of her gravity, the irresistible force of Taylor that caused him to lower his head and crush his lips against hers. Taylor never hesitated, opening her mouth to him, her tongue enticing him further as they ate at each other with eleven years of unquenched lust. She was warm and wet, and tasted as good as he remembered—sweet, rich, and complicated. That was his girl—one big complication.

His hands explored her skin, coasting along the length of her thigh, across the strip of silken flesh exposed by her tank top inching further up her body. A glancing brush against the lower swell of her breast had Taylor arching into him, her body a perfect fit with his erection and hinting of what could be if they lost the clothes. As if she read his mind, her nimble fingers inched under the hem of his T-shirt, rucking it up as she caressed his back in a spine-melting massage.

“Lucky Landon, what the hell are you doing?”

Lucky broke off the kiss, his body automatically shielding Taylor from the unexpected intruder and poising for attack. Shaking off the haze of desire, he blinked as Sheriff Burke and a young, red-faced deputy peeked over his shoulder. He groaned at the absurdity of the situation. They must be a sight. Sprawled on the floor, in a lip-lock, and groping each other like teenagers. The only thing dampening the humor of the situation was the gun pointed at them and the grumpy law enforcement officer attached to the end of it.

“Lucky, we got a distress call from this house, and then I walk in and find you mauling some half-dressed woman on the floor.” The sheriff hitched his gun a little higher so that it didn’t point right at him, but he didn’t put it away. “It’s almost time for me to go home, and I don’t have time for your usual bullshit. So why don’t you explain why you’re here, or I can call and tell Teague to get his ass over here to explain it to me.”

Lucky froze. The thought of what Teague would do to him if he found out he’d been all over Taylor made whatever was left of his arousal disappear. Good. At least he wasn’t in danger of doing anything really stupid. Like sleeping with his best friend’s little sister. Again.

That was the old Lucky. The Lucky who was reckless, always getting into a tough scrape and having to fast-talk his way out of it. The new Lucky was going to help his parents get out of debt, walk away from the trail of death he left behind him, and settle down with a great woman who wanted the same kind of future.

He glanced down at Taylor, her expression now wary with a touch of “what the hell did I almost do?” written all over it. Good. They just needed to give each other a wide berth and they’d both emerge from this encounter no worse for the wear.

Taylor shifted under him, turning her head to give the sheriff the smile that had won her at least two Junior Miss Virginia pageants. Sheriff Burke smiled back and lowered the gun completely as if she’d cast a spell on him. God help the poor man—he had no idea what he was up against.

“Sheriff, I’m so sorry to call you for a false alarm. You might remember me, I’m Mary-Taylor Elliott.” Her grin spread even wider and she added a little batting of the eyelashes to ensure neither of them would go to jail and have to face Teague this late at night. “I’m staying here for a little while and had no idea Lucky was here as well. We scared each other half to death.”

The meaning of her words sunk in and he ground his teeth with the effort to bite back a groan.

She was staying here? In the same house? Alone. With him.

He should have let her shoot him.