Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Christie Craig

  “We should have a picture made,” Redfoot suggested. “So we can laugh at this later.”

  “We will,” Jose said, and gave his dad’s hand one more pat.

  “Son,” Redfoot said as he turned.

  Jose looked back. “Yes?”

  “What you thought you saw today at the hospital—”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. Mom’s been gone for a long time. You’re an adult. And I don’t think Ms. Cloud can get pregnant.”

  “That’s just it, son. What you thought you saw wasn’t…what you saw.”

  Jose had never known the old man to lie, and if he hadn’t been there, he might believe his father hadn’t been having sex with the woman. “As I said, Dad, I’m fine with it. Ramon, on the other hand, isn’t.” He rubbed his chin. “I’d stay away from him for a while. He throws a mean right.”

  “You fought with Ramon?” Redfoot asked.

  “He was upset and said he’d…Well, never mind.”

  “He threatened me?” Redfoot asked. “You took a punch because of me?” He grinned. “I’m sorry, but I’m also proud.”

  Jose’s chest expanded. He couldn’t remember his father ever saying that before. Maybe it wasn’t because of his career, but it still felt damn good. “I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.”

  “You know I would,” Redfoot agreed.

  Jose walked back to his room, and for the first time since he’d arrived home, it felt good being there.

  Sky had been awake for an hour, but he hadn’t moved. It was morning. Shala lay still, her head pillowed on his chest, her uninjured hand resting low on his belly. It felt like heaven. It also felt like hell.

  What he wouldn’t give to slide her hand down inside his buttoned boxers. What he wouldn’t give to slip his hand underneath her tank top and touch the soft flesh and pebbled nipple that rested against his ribs.

  All of a sudden, she flinched. He heard her catch her breath and felt her lashes flutter open against his chest. He crooked his neck to see. Her blue eyes were open, and she stared down at her hand and probably the bulge beneath his underwear.

  “Don’t panic,” he whispered in her ear. “I bought the boxers with buttons.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  He caught her as she started to pull away. “Please don’t,” he said seriously. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

  Her warm breath spilled out on his chest, and she didn’t pull away. “Lucas has a third bedroom.” The huskiness of sleep laced her voice.

  He could tell from her lack of tension that she wasn’t angry. “Yeah, there was a little problem with it.”

  “What was that?”

  “You weren’t in it,” he answered.

  “You’re terrible.” She shifted to look at him. The slight shift in position brought her breast and that nipple pressed tighter to his side. He really liked how it felt.

  “Terrible because I want to be close to you?” He met her sleepy blue eyes, and his gut tightened with a sudden realization. Never before Shala had he slept with a woman who wasn’t his mother and not had sex. Never would he have wanted to, either.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up when you came in?”

  “Because you looked exhausted. And…because I was afraid, even though you’d sort of agreed to let me sleep here, that you’d tell me I couldn’t.”

  She leaned up on one elbow. “Do you always tell the truth in hopes it will get you out of trouble?”

  He considered that. “Probably.” He smiled. “A bad habit I picked up from Redfoot.”

  She grinned, and it was the prettiest sleepy smile he’d ever seen. “Bad, aren’t you?”

  “Not all bad.” He stared at her. “You do mornings well.” He ran a finger over her chin.

  “What?”

  “Mornings. I was a little afraid after yesterday—you know, waking up with Mace aimed at me—that you’re one of those nasty chicks when you first wake up.”

  Her gaze shifted down to his boxers. “What is that?”

  He laughed. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling.”

  She slapped his chest. “I meant, what’s that printed on your boxers?”

  “Nope.” He pulled her against him and rolled atop her. “That’s not going to happen,” he said, placing an elbow on each side of her head. God, it felt good being on top of her.

  “What’s not going to happen?” she asked, wriggling. Damn, if that didn’t feel good, too.

  “No making fun of my shorts.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she craned her neck again. “Those are little devils, aren’t they?”

  “It was devils or hearts. Wal-Mart doesn’t carry a large selection of button-up boxers. I think these are left over from Valentine’s Day.” When she laughed, he stared at her. “You’d better stop that.”

  “Stop what? Making fun of your little-devil underwear?”

  “No. Stop laughing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes me want to do this.”

  He leaned down and took her lips with his. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation; she opened up, and her tongue slipped inside his mouth. Her kiss said yes. Her kiss said, Go for it. So he did.

  Adjusting his weight, he slipped his hand underneath her tank top. His palm moved over the softest skin he’d ever felt, up over her tight little abs until he found the pleasing weight of her breast. He sighed and rubbed his thumb back and forth over her tight nipple, and his mouth started moving south, needing to taste the treasure he’d found under her shirt.

  He kissed the curve of her neck. Her pulse fluttered against his lips. He ran his tongue up and then down the column of her neck. The sound she made—half sigh, half moan—gave him courage. He lifted himself and pulled her shirt up toward her face, slowly, teasing both of them. Uncovered, he saw his right hand on her breast. His skin was dark compared to hers. Her nipples were light pink, tight peaks that begged to be touched and tasted. He lowered his mouth and took one of the sensitive nubs in his mouth, circled it with his tongue.

  He felt her hands move down his back, then up to his shoulders. Soft hands, exploring. She touched with pleasure; she touched for pleasure. And she gave it. But he knew where he wanted those hands next.

  Pulling away, he slipped the tank top over her head and took a second to look at her. Holy hell, but he loved what he saw. Her breasts were perfectly shaped and large. His gaze shifted to her face. Her blue eyes looking up at him were filled with need, desire, and passion. Her mouth appeared soft and still wet. What else was wet?

  He leaned down again, pressed his lips to hers, and felt her hips rise up to slightly brush against his swollen cock.

  “Yes,” he muttered into her mouth, and slipped his hand down her abdomen past the waistband of her shorts. He nudged his fingers under her silky underwear, past the triangle of hair and lower, at last finding the softness of her sex. Exploring the folds of her tender flesh, he found the moisture he craved.

  He growled and slid his finger down into that tight little core in which he longed to bury himself. “I want to taste you.” Pulling his fingers out, he left a trail of dampness over her lower abdomen. Unsnapping the waist of her shorts, he lowered the zipper.

  He had one side of her shorts off her hip when he heard, “‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog! Bom-bom-bom!’” Since the words were sung in a deep baritone and off-key, he pretty much knew it didn’t come from Shala. “‘Was a good friend of mine.’”

  Sky shut his ears and went back to concentrating on getting Shala’s shorts off. But in the back of his mind he made himself a promise: if Lucas’s little song came between him and getting Shala naked and satisfied, the man had sung his last.

  He caught the top of Shala’s shorts, was about to lift her to remove them and her panties in one swift move, when she caught his hand. “Sky?”

  “What?” he growled. He hoped Lucas had his will signed, sealed, and delivered.

  “I can’t…I…Lucas is up.”

  “I’ll get rid of h
im.” Sky bounced up and off the bed.

  She called his name, her tone impatient. “Sky, this is his house. You can’t throw him out of his own house.”

  “Watch me.” He took another step.

  “Please.”

  He stopped and raked a hand over his face. The musky scent of her made his already stiff cock as hard as petrified wood. “Please what?” He kept his eyes closed, knowing without question what she was going to say, but he had to hear it before he could begin to accept it. And acceptance wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I can’t do this. Not now.”

  He turned around. She held her shirt up over her breasts. She looked mortified, her face flushed, her shorts unzipped and open. The look suited her. She was sexy as hell.

  “‘Joy to the world!’” sounded outside.

  There’s no joy in my world, Sky thought. He’d been robbed. He fought the desire to walk into the kitchen and permanently remove his friend’s voice box. Instead, he went over to the bed, sat down, and flopped back on the mattress. He didn’t move, just stared at the ceiling and waited for the blasted ache in his cock to subside. It was going to take a while.

  “You aren’t mad, are you?” Shala asked. He felt the bed jiggling. She was obviously putting her shirt back on.

  “Furious, but not at you.” He flung his arm over his face. When he smelled her scent again, he moaned and changed arms.

  “It’s not Lucas’s fault,” she said. “I should have stopped you earlier. I’m not quite ready to…I mean, we barely know each other. What’s it been? I mean, I know we’ve been through a lot, but…”

  God, she was jabbering again. Nope. There was no joy in his world. He waited until she took her first breath, so he wouldn’t come off like a total ass, but then he popped up. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  Ten minutes later, the water still hitting him in the face, he realized what a complete jerk he’d been. He’d crawled into bed with her last night knowing he’d practically tricked her into agreeing to let him sleep there. He’d told himself it was okay because he wouldn’t push her, that just sleeping beside her was enough. Obviously, it hadn’t been. He’d taken a chance, seen her good mood, and turned it into something more. She’d given him a little taste of heaven, and when they’d gotten interrupted—which wasn’t her fault—he’d just up and walked out, left the room without so much as a hug or an “I liked what I saw, can I have a rain check?” Yup, he was an ass.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think. Damn, he had zero ideas on how to get out of this mess, zero knowledge of how to get out of jams with women, because he’d never tried to get out of one before. Not because he hadn’t been in any; he just hadn’t cared about getting out of them. When a jam arrived in a relationship, that’s when he knew it was walking time. But it wasn’t walking time with Shala. He had to find a way out.

  He cut the water off and pushed back the shower curtain to stare at the bathroom door. Was she waiting out there to lash out at him? God, would she start jabbering again? He deserved it, he supposed. This time he’d sit there and take it.

  He got out of the shower and eased the bathroom door open a bit. She wasn’t outside. A big pain hit his gut. Was she so angry that she’d run to Lucas to complain? Was she at that very moment squawking to his friend about how much of an ass he’d been? Was she asking Lucas to help her leave town? Oh, hell. She couldn’t leave.

  Rushing out of the bathroom, scrubbing the towel over his chest as he did, he hurried to his clothes on the chair. At the clearing of a throat, he turned around. Shala sat at the tiny desk behind the bathroom door, laptop open, one hand now covering her eyes, but her two middle fingers had a wide vee of separation and one blue eye was checking him out.

  He let her look a few seconds before moving the towel from his chest to his crotch. “I looked out and didn’t see you. I thought you’d stepped out,” he explained.

  She moved her hand. “Still here,” she said. A blush turned her cheeks a pretty pink color.

  He studied her expression, blush and all. Was she not angry at him?

  She glanced back at her laptop. “I wanted to show you a few things I found when I went through my pictures. I’m not sure if it’s anything but…it might be something.”

  He wrapped the towel around his waist, moved closer. “Show me.”

  He leaned down, put his hand on her shoulder. Emotion churned his gut just from the contact. It hurt like hell, but it also felt wonderful, because she was still there. And obviously she wasn’t furious with him, either. Or was she just hiding it?

  “Let me find it again.” She clicked through the images.

  He leaned down close, his cheek pressed against hers. “I’m sorry, Shala.”

  Her fingers on the keyboard stopped moving. She glanced over, uncertain. “For what?”

  “For being a jerk just now.”

  “You weren’t really a jerk.”

  “Yes, I was. I thoroughly enjoyed what happened.” He waved toward the bed. “You’re beautiful, and I really would like to enjoy it again…and enjoy more. Instead of telling you that, I got frustrated and ran.”

  Her blue eyes studied him. She bit her lip, as if debating her next words. “I enjoyed it, too.” She held up her unbandaged hand, her fingers pinched close together. “I just need a little more time.”

  “And maybe some privacy?” He looked toward the door, beyond which Lucas had started another song.

  “That might help, too.” She smiled.

  He kissed her. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Careful not to let things progress to a place where he’d end up apologizing again, he pulled back.

  Shala went back to flipping through the images. He remembered he’d already apologized to her twice before: once in the hospital, when he’d been giving her a hard time about being afraid of stitches, and again when he’d forgotten about her hospital issue. All three times she’d accepted his apology without giving him grief. All three times he might have deserved a little grief. Which meant Shala Winters wasn’t the type to hold grudges. Not very many women managed that. It was a nice quality. It somehow made up for the jabbering and snooping.

  “Here’s one of them,” she said, and pointed to the screen. “I’d stopped off on my way to Precious to get a few shots of other accommodations around the area. I think this shot is around Bueford—I could check my notes and tell you for sure. But the Chambers gave me directions to a few of local cabins that are rented out. They said I couldn’t take shots of the inside because a couple of them were leased, but I could take a few outside shots. Look in the car parked in the driveway. I didn’t notice it when I took the shot, but look, it has two people, and I don’t think they’re just talking, if you know what I mean.”

  He shifted to study the picture.

  “I mean, it’s sort of odd that they’ve got a whole cabin and they’re doing it in the car, but…” Her hands started tapping some keys. “Let me blow it up and you’ll see.” Then she looked up at him. “I thought maybe someone is cheating and think I’m like a PI or something. I know it’s not much, but…”

  He smiled. “As you said, it’s more than before.”

  “There are three others.” She tapped a few more keys. An image taken at nearby Cypress Pond appeared. A couple of men were fishing, and to the right was a family having a picnic. It was a very serene portrait of Precious. “This is the one I got the most excited about.”

  “It’s a great picture, but I don’t see—”

  “Here,” she said, and pointed to a small area in the background that showed the parking lot. “Do you see the car?”

  Sky moved closer. “The black sedan?” He kept his tone even. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but a picture of the car wasn’t going to do them any good.

  “But look when I blow it up,” she told him, and the screen filled with the section that contained the car. “It’s not the clearest shot, but look.”

  “At what?” he asked, thinking she meant the license
plate. Hadn’t he told her they had the car? That they—

  “Look at the guy standing to the right of the car. I’m pretty sure that’s him. That’s the guy who was driving the sedan.”

  Smiling, he squeezed her shoulder. “You are quite a detective, Ms. Winters!” He tugged at the towel around his waist and went to grab his cell. Then he remembered she’d said she had two other images for him to see. “What else did you find?” He went back to stand behind her, wanting to give Phillip the whole story.

  She already had another image on the screen. “These might not be anything, but I found him in two different pictures, on two different days, and it just sort of gave me the creeps.” She pointed to a small figure in the background at the railroad museum.

  “Can you make it bigger?”

  “Yeah. I think this is the one where you can almost make out his face. The other one, he’s standing in the shadows, but I’m almost certain it’s the same guy.” She hit a few keys and the image expanded. Sky saw a man in jeans and a navy polo shirt.

  When he didn’t say anything right away, Shala glanced back. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yeah,” Sky said, and he didn’t like it.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “His name is Charlie Rainmaker.” Grabbing his phone, Sky started dialing Phillip. “He’s the main guy who was against trying to bring tourism into town. He started a petition against it.”

  “Do you think he might be behind this?”

  “I think he’s got a lot to explain.”

  When Phillip answered his phone, Sky said, “Phillip, it’s Sky. Shala went through the images and found a few things that might help.”

  “I’m looking at the images now,” the ranger said. “She’s a damn good photographer.”

  “I know. She’s good,” Sky agreed, feeling a sense of pride. Oddly, he couldn’t ever remember being proud of any of the women he’d dated. Well, there was the one who’d been a centerfold in Playboy, but that was different.