Stay: Changing Tides, Book 1

by Candi Wall

  Brack beat her to the answer.

  “She’s riding with me.” He toweled his feet off and pulled on a pair of medical socks before sliding his boots on. Tossing the blanket to the female EMT, he shrugged his shirt and jacket on and climbed down next to them.

  Sam cleared his throat. “Captain, we’ll get the gear back to the station. You and Abby need to keep warm.”

  But Brack wasn’t listening. His hand caught on her arm through the blanket she still held and pulled her along next to him. She followed, not really wanting to cause a scene in front of their teammates. A quick glance back told her their Captain’s behavior had already done that. Sam and Linda were both smiling, but Rand had a dark scowl bridging his eyebrows. Jacob just shook his head. She decided not to look farther. The others would probably have the same expression…

  Great, nothing like small-town gossip to pass the wintertime boredom.

  The effort it would take to remove her arm from his grasp seemed too much to muster at the moment, so she decided on another tactic. “You know, if you like acting the caveman, throwing me over your shoulder would be more effective.”

  “Don’t push me, Abby. Just don’t.”

  He glanced at her briefly, but didn’t break stride. In that single moment, she saw something, a deep fear she hadn’t noticed before. For now, it was enough to hold her silent. She didn’t know if it was a flash from his past, or if it was just concern for her safety. Either way, she had no doubt she’d learn what the issue was—soon.

  The truck rumbled over the bumpy trail, settling Brack’s focus. He didn’t dare speak. The fact that she lived less than five miles up the road helped. He didn’t trust himself at the moment. He had every reason to be angry with her. She’d disobeyed his direct order. Her attempts at humor didn’t make it right. Neither did the strange emotion he’d seen in her eyes inside the back of the rescue truck.

  Resignation seemed the only definition that came close. But he had no idea what it meant. Even more, he didn’t know if he wanted to find out. He wanted to be angry. Wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

  He pulled out onto the main road, spinning the tires. Damn woman. Jumping in the water. What had she been thinking? She didn’t know these lakes. She’d only been on one rescue drill. Anything could have happened. After years of training and calls he still didn’t know the intricacies of each body of water. She knew absolutely nothing about them or the dangers hidden beneath the ice.

  “Brack, right here.”

  The brakes caught and rumbled as he jerked the truck into her driveway. Good thing she’d said something or he would have gone right past, consumed by his thoughts. He pulled the truck to a stop and turned to face her, hoping he could retain control of his anger.

  Before he could say a word, she opened the door. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but the next time you offer me a ride, let me know it’ll be at risk of death.”

  Waspish intent laced her words and tapped the last of his control. “Death? That’s the last thing you worry about. You proved it earlier.”

  “I should have known all this knuckle-dragging behavior had something to do with tonight.”

  He would have responded, but she slammed the door and walked away. She’d reached the front door and pulled her keys free when he caught up with her. “Hey, wait just a minute. What the hell do you have to be angry about?”

  She spun back, keys pointed at his chest. “You! I’m angry because of you. I don’t know if my head tastes good, but I’d sure like to know why you feel the need to bite it off constantly.”

  He gripped her shoulders. “To keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Captain.”

  “Yes you do.” He bit out each word on a snarl.

  She tried to shrug his hands off. “You seem to think that the world runs according to Brack Elliot. Well, I hate to tell you, it doesn’t. No matter how carefully you walk through life, it still takes your feet right out from under you when you least expect it.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” he roared. “But it’s better to curb as much disaster as you can along the way instead of inviting it like you do. People can get hurt if we don’t follow protocol.”

  Her eyes snapped furious in the moonlight. “People would have died if I hadn’t gone in after them.”

  “You could have died, Abby.” Her light shrug barely registered beneath his fingers. He was so angry he was shaking.

  “That’s part of the job.”

  Fury blinded him. That’s where her foolishness came from. She didn’t care if she died.

  He shook her, hard. “So you don’t give a shit about yourself, I get it. But what if one of your teammates came in after you? What if your decision caused the death of another? Wasn’t it you who said that people should consider the safety of others?”

  “That statement was for normal, everyday people.” She sighed heavily. “People who don’t risk their own safety as a job. And you know it.”

  Damn she was stubborn. “You’re a hypocrite.”

  “Hypocrite or not, our team knows the risks they take.”

  “Spoken like a person who’s never owned the guilt of someone else’s death.” Deep pain reared tight in his chest. Through the thickness settling in his throat, he sighed. “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter if they know the risks. Believe me. Having the death of another on your conscience doesn’t make for peaceful nights. You have no idea what sleepless hours you have to endure.”

  Moved by the dead, emotionless tone of his statement, Abby met his gaze. Every ounce of her anger dissipated under the tortured shadows she found there. His grip on her shoulders slackened, and when he would have moved away, she grabbed his shirt. “Wait, Brack. You talk like you’ve been there.”

  Stony silence met her inquiry. The taut line of his jaw flexed with emotion so different from moments before.

  “What keeps you awake?” she pressed.

  A profound sadness shimmered in his stare, a pain so deep it constricted her chest. For a moment, she thought he might speak. Might tell her what demon from his past could take such a toll on such a hard, self-assured man. Surely he didn’t blame himself for his wife and son… But even as she thought it, she knew. He did. He believed he could have done something to save them.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He pressed a fraction closer, the heat of his body pulsing over her. “Just follow directions from now on.”

  Each soft word traced over her cheek, and he inhaled deeply, his hands moving up to brace against the door behind her head. Her own breaths shortened. So close. All she needed to do was lean into him. She was sure he wanted to kiss her again. His eyes followed her tongue as she wet her lips. “That’s not an answer.”

  He closed his eyes, tilting his face up at the star-soaked sky, and when she flexed her fingers against his chest, he groaned. “I should go.”

  This would be her defining moment. Did she want him or not? The answer couldn’t have been simpler. Intensity burned between them. He felt it as surely as she did. Letting him walk away would only prolong the inevitable, and she wasn’t a patient woman.

  She reached back, and the doorknob turned smoothly beneath her fingers. Welcoming heat drifted over them as the door swung wide.

  “No, Brack. You should stay.”

  Chapter Nine

  He should stay?

  The unexpected words scorched him from the inside out. Crushing her close, he lifted her against his chest and walked inside. His heel made contact with the door, swinging it shut even as he lowered his mouth closer to hers.

  Her breathy sigh caressed his lips, fanning the fire of desire she’d created with her simple acceptance of his touch. But he wasn’t too far gone to stop this madness yet. He dragged a thumb across her bottom lip, tempted beyond reason to take anything she offered. “We probably shouldn’t—”

  “No.” Her chilled fingers slipped over his sh
oulders with firm pressure before she ran them across the base of his skull. Heat poured through his chest to settle deep in his stomach. “We probably shouldn’t stop.”

  Insane hunger filled him, and he cupped her face, drawing her close to taste her lips. Barely more than a touch at first, just enough to mingle their breaths. The slow sigh that escaped her lips flowed over his, and he pressed deeper, delving into her mouth. He’d craved this, savored the heated dreams and thoughts that had plagued him from the moment they’d met. None of it compared to the reality of her taste or the need she evoked.

  The passion she returned heightened his tenfold, searing him. No matter his intentions, he responded, igniting inside with a slow, methodical burn. Her taste overwhelmed the rational thoughts he couldn’t hold onto, and the soft moan that rumbled through her chest gripped his muscles in a vise. He needed to touch her. Feel her pressed close, her warmth, her scent, her smile…no interruptions.

  Everything about this woman drove him crazy, but nothing to date compared to this. Reasoning and coherence vaporized under the firm pressure of her hands gripping at his shoulders. A low rumble worked free from his constricted throat, and she pulled back, faint traces of moonlight catching on the soft curve of her damp lips.

  “It’s not fair.” He barely breathed the words, not sure if he’d spoken them aloud.

  Confusion arched her eyebrows. “What isn’t?”

  Even as she spoke, her hands kneaded at his chest, and he flexed into her touch. “That I want you enough to go against what my mind says.”

  “And what is your overly cautious brain telling you at the moment?”

  He met her open gaze, wishing he could live in her mind, certain she believed everything she said. “It tells me anything that happens between us could cause problems.”

  She nibbled at her bottom lip. “Brack, you’re kind of taking the intensity out of the moment. I’ve never had to discuss the morning after until the morning after. My way of looking at it is, we’re adults. We make choices. Some good, some bad, but we’ll never know which until we try.”

  Her thought process floored him. “It’s really that simple to you?”

  “Yes.” And she smiled. Holy hell. It was more than a smile. A simple tilt of her lips before she stood on tiptoes to brush her lips over the pulse ready to burst from his throat. Her slow whisper traced over the same spot. “If I thought things through as much as you do, I’d never experience anything.”

  “I don’t just go with my instincts.”

  “Easy to say, difficult to do?” she asked.

  “Precisely.” Damn siren. Too tempting with the softness of her body pressed to his. The vague vanilla scent of her skin flaying his senses. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. But he was done trying. He wanted her. Wanted the peace she promised—even for a short span of time. Even if guilt would slice him to pieces later.

  “Those damn snowmobiles,” she growled. Abby couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. The man could have been a monk if it weren’t for the moment of unfettered passion he’d shown her in his shop. “Don’t listen to your damn brain. For once, just relax, live for the moment. Forget any reasons or concerns and just be a man who wants what he wants. Consequences be damned.”

  Before he had a chance to say something else depressing, she pressed her lips to his. She wanted him, and if the solid length of his erection against her belly was any indication, he wanted her just the same. Whatever hold he had on his better reasoning seemed to snap under her onslaught, and finally, he pulled her hard against him.

  Darkness held him in its grip. Guilt, pain and sadness all intermingled in every expression. She wanted to see him as he must have been, as she knew he could be. The traces of a carefree man still lingered beneath his controlled exterior, and she needed that man.

  He needed to be that man.

  His desperate bid for control unbalanced his reactions to her kiss. One moment his grip slackened, the next fierce passion slipped free. She pressed closer, running her hands down the long, muscled lines of his back. When her hands reached the rough texture of jeans, she hooked her thumbs through the loops and pulled.

  A low growl of approval—or maybe submission—rumbled in his chest. She couldn’t be sure which and didn’t care, since his entire aura altered. The pressure of his hands increased, splayed wide against her back. His fingers dug into her shirt, tugging until it came free from her jeans. Goose bumps followed the path of his touch until her skin screamed with awareness. His mouth never left hers, testing, tasting until she whimpered into his mouth.

  She wasn’t sure how, but they’d moved farther into the room. Her heels caught on the shag carpet, and her slight stumble pulled her from the kiss. Strong hands held her from falling backward as his lips traced down her chin and neck. The warmth of his fingers stirred under her shirt, their size spanning her waist until his thumbs brushed the lines of her stomach. She tightened beneath his touch, her breaths caught on excited waves. Shards of need gripped her entire body and she wound her hands into his hair, holding him to her skin, wanting more. “Brack.”

  He moaned low, his lips against her collarbone. “Tell me to stop.”

  “No way.” Eager to touch the hard body outlined by his clothing, she worked his jacket off, letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes closed when she reached up to free the buttons of his shirt, and satisfaction drew her closer. She pressed her lips to each inch of skin her trembling fingers revealed. A thin layer of soft hair covered his chest before it narrowed invitingly down his midsection, and she followed the path with anticipation. She breathed in deep, inhaling the warm, earthy scent of his skin. The taut ridges of his stomach jumped beneath her touch as she moved lower. “Your skin is so hot.”

  “Burning, at the moment.”

  By the time she reached the last button, her knees were on the carpet. She pressed a light kiss to his navel. “So sexy.”

  “Christ.”

  She didn’t have a moment to consider his curse, plea, demand, whatever it might have been. His hands brought her up against him hard, his lips meeting hers again with a hunger she’d only hoped simmered under his well-controlled surface. His hands were everywhere at once, no reluctance remained as he pulled her shirt off.

  Skin touched skin. Slick with the heat they’d generated, the slow glide of their bodies drove her insane. She wanted to be closer, no barriers, no space, no air.

  “Bedroom?”

  His husky whisper barely registered through the pounding in her ears. Desire drummed her heartbeat to a senseless level and she grabbed his hand. Bedroom, floor, counter as long as he didn’t change his mind. She drew him down the hall to her room, and the moment the door swung wide he brought her around to face him, guiding her toward the bed more with the heat of his stare than his hands. They tumbled onto the soft mattress, the sensual press of his weight anchoring her riotous passion to his body.

  She shifted against him, her blood pulsing thick.

  The last of Brack’s resolve slipped away under her touch. Everything about her made him feel good. He didn’t want to deny the pleasure she offered. It had been so long since he’d been tempted to feel again. So long since there was a moment, a reason to give over to sheer indulgence.

  He braced a hand at the side her head, holding her cheek with the other so he could draw his thumb across her lower lip as he savored her damp lips. The sensual motions of her body, asking for more, careened his need toward desperate. He slid lower, tracing his mouth down her throat to the curved swells of her lace-covered breasts. The pale ivory material barely hid the darker pink of her nipples, and he stroked over them with his tongue, nipping lightly as she arched into his mouth with a raspy breath.

  He pulled one of the bra straps down her arm slowly, peeling away the lace to expose her skin to his hungry gaze. A hunger that wouldn’t be denied. He tasted her with slow, tantalizing licks before taking her hardened nipple into his mouth with a slow groan. While he feasted on her, he drew
the other strap lower, giving her other breast the same attention in turn.

  Each short, lusty breath that shook her built on his own need, her responses driving him beyond reason. Her legs wrapped around his, their strength holding his hips close until he shifted against her without thought.

  She rocked against him, reaching down to tug at the buckle of his belt. Her hot fingers scorched his skin, and the slow slide of his belt as she pulled it free notched the anticipation up another level. He grit his teeth when her palm smoothed over his zipper, her fingers molded to the length of his erection.

  Grasping her hands, he breathed heavily into her neck. “Slow down, Abby.”

  A soft laugh purred from her throat, and she stretched her arms up over her head. The motion drew the bra up tighter under her breasts, pushing them up in blatant invitation. Goose bumps traveled across her midsection, and he pressed a kiss under her ribs, stroking her skin with his tongue as he snapped the button free on her jeans. He inhaled deeply, drugged by the scent of her arousal as he drew her jeans down over her legs.

  The limited moonlight filtering through her window allowed only glimpses of her body. He slid his hands down her legs, savoring the cool dampness of her skin. The mottled scar that traveled the length of her leg felt foreign under his fingers. He paused, tracing the old wound.

  She shied away from his touch, but he just followed. “Don’t. It’s part of who you are.”

  “It’s ugly.”

  Embarrassment tinged her statement, and he bent to press a kiss to her thigh. “It’s a battle scar. A medal of honor. A piece of yourself you gave to save a life. You should be proud.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.” She paused. “I—I’m just not used to someone—touching it.”

  He understood. It was private. A scar, outside and in, that she wasn’t ready to share. How could he not respect her feelings? He had his own scars locked away.

  He brushed a lingering kiss on her thigh and traveled down her body. When her legs were finally free, he splaying them wider to kneel at the edge of the bed. God, she was magnificent. Laid out before him, every curve and turn begging for his touch.