DRAGON SECURITY: Volume 2: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

The words were spoken so low that I almost didn’t hear them. And then she asked another question.

  “Why Janelle?”

  I shook my head. “Why not?”

  “She was my worst enemy. You knew that. If you wanted to date one of my friends, you could have dated Bobette or Kayly or Susan. Why Janelle?”

  “Because I liked her.” I swallowed the last of what was in my glass and set it down beside me, leaning forward a little over the water as I collected my thoughts. “You pushed me away. I told you I loved you and you treated me like the help, telling me I had overstepped my boundaries. So I moved on, like you told me to.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to run to Janelle!”

  I tilted my head. “And I didn’t ask you to run to Trevor.”

  She snorted, lifting her own glass to her lips.

  “And I didn’t ask you to spread all my deepest secrets to everyone at school.”

  “I was hurt!”

  I laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. “What do you think I was?”

  “You didn’t seem to suffer much.”

  “Because I had good friends who stood by me and a girlfriend who proved to everyone that you were just jealous and bitter.”

  “A girlfriend you picked because she hated me so that you could bring her to the ranch and make sure I didn’t miss a thing the two of you did.” She picked up the wine bottle and poured herself another healthy slug, swallowing half of it in one gulp. “You have no idea how many nights I stood at my window and watched the two of you walking along the garden or hang out at the stables. You did all the things with her that you did with me … and more.”

  “She was my girl.”

  “Did you love her?”

  We were moving onto dangerous ground and I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow her there. I ran my hands over my head, aware that no matter how I answered that question, it wouldn’t be good for me. But I could see my hesitation was answer enough for her. She swallowed the last of her wine and poured more, her hands shaking as she did.

  “It was high school, Kirsten.”

  “But that night … you said I was the only one you’d been with like that. That I was the only one you wanted to be with. But not two weeks later you were parading Janelle on your arm like you were the fucking king and queen of the damn school!”

  Anger boiled over inside of me. I pointed a finger at her, pushing against her shoulder.

  “You’re the one who told me the next morning that you didn’t want to see me again. You said that I was just a charity case and that your father paid for me to go to that school because he felt sorry for me and my parents. You said that my job on the ranch was to help my dad with the animals and that I was taking advantage of that position in trying to get close to you. That I overstepped my boundaries.”

  I pushed my finger against her again, the anger and pain that had festered since that morning suddenly rushing out of me, pouring from my mouth like pus from an infected wound. “I believe your exact words were that I took advantage of you and I should back off and remember where I belonged.”

  She turned her face away, raising a hand to wipe at tears.

  “I was fifteen.”

  It was a whispered admission, but I caught it just the same.

  “And I was sixteen.”

  She nodded slowly, but she didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

  “You filled the hole fairly quickly,” I continued. “You and Trevor, sneaking off to the stables late at night. You think I didn’t know about that? About your secret rendezvous?”

  “He was my friend.”

  “He was more than that.”

  She snorted. “If that’s what you think, you have a lot of catching up to do with your brother.”

  I had no idea what she meant by that. I didn’t care. She’d pushed me over the edge between adult acceptance and adolescent drama. I’d put all this behind me years ago, pushed it down and compressed it, thinking I’d gotten over it. But now it was pretty obvious I hadn’t gotten over it. And the anger was almost too much to control.

  “You knew all my buttons and you pushed them quite expertly. What did you think I would do?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just needed you to back off for a little while. I didn’t expect you to disappear completely.” She looked at me, her green eyes flooded with tears. “Were you with her all that time? Were you with her that night?”

  An intense sensory memory flashed through me, the feel of the cold hood of my Mustang pressed against my hands, my knees, as I lowered myself to touch Kirsten. I looked away, trying to push that memory back. I’d thought that memory, too, had been compartmentalized, but being near her again, smelling her and feeling her nearness, had woken it.

  Most people remember their first time as an awkward, unpleasant experience. Let’s face it, when you don’t have much knowledge of an activity, the first time can be a series of unintended movements. It can be painful. It’s not pleasure that makes it memorable, but embarrassment. Maybe even shame.

  Not for me. That first time … it was everything I’d imagined it would be.

  “You were the only girl who mattered to me before that night. You were the only girl I wanted.”

  “But you and Janelle—”

  “Janelle was a lousy substitute, Kirsten.” I turned to her, my eyes moving slowly over her face, over the curves that were more familiar to me—even now—than the angles of my own face. “I moved on, but if you’d given me even the smallest sign that you still wanted me, I would have dropped everything.”

  She was staring down into her glass again, silent. Once again, I’d just exposed my soul to her and she was pretending that it didn’t matter. Not sure I could take this anymore, I jumped to my feet and picked up the bottle of wine, drinking the last few swallows directly from its narrow neck.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it? You never wanted me. You made that pretty clear. And I’ve moved on.” I threw the wine bottle toward a tree that stuck out over the water, watching as it shattered and the pieces glittered in the moonlight. “You should move on, too.”

  “I was fifteen, Kevin. I was confused.”

  “You weren’t always fifteen.”

  She climbed unsteadily to her feet, too, tossing her glass onto the soft sand back toward the shore. She dragged her fingers through her hair, lifting it up off her neck.

  “You’re right,” she said softly. And then she brushed past me, walking back up to the house like the conversation had never happened, like none of this mattered. I watched her go, anger still swelling almost painfully in my chest. I wished I had another bottle to throw.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  I knew she had to have heard me, but she didn’t turn around or react in any way. I turned away, pacing to the end of the dock, seriously thinking about throwing myself into the water and taking the chance to swim the five miles back to Marathon. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d driven me off.

  It was a long time before I calmed enough to head back to the house. The last thing I wanted was to spend the next twenty-four hours in her company, but I had no choice. It was getting cold and my stomach was growling. I walked into the house, the buzzer for the potatoes going off incessantly on the forgotten stove. I pulled them out and slid the chicken onto the grill, the activity keeping my head busy. Activity was the cure all for everything. At least that’s what my dad always used to say.

  When it was ready, I considered sitting down alone and letting Kirsten fend for herself. I had no idea where she’d gone. She wasn’t out here and I didn’t hear any sounds coming from the bathroom. She must have gone to bed, deciding to sleep off the wine.

  I took a couple of bites of chicken and guilt settled on my shoulders. My mother would be deeply ashamed of me if she knew what I was doing. With a sigh, I set the plate down and headed toward the bedrooms.

  “Kirsten?” I said softly, tapping on the door of the sma
ller bedroom. But when I opened it, even in the dark, I could see she wasn’t in there. And the bathroom door was ajar, so I could see she wasn’t there, either.

  Typical princess move. She’d taken the master bedroom as her own.

  I stepped up to the door and considered my options. I could leave her in there to pout on her own and enjoy the chicken on my own. Or I could roust her out, demand she give me the larger bed, and send her to bed in the smaller room without telling her that dinner was ready.

  Both options seemed quite tempting. But, again, my mom’s voice was constantly at the back of my mind, reminding me of my manners.

  With a heavy sigh, I rapped my knuckles against the door. It swung inward, revealing a room bathed in cool lights. And—too much like my earlier imaginings—Kirsten was sitting at the end of the bed, stripped down to her bra and panties, her legs crossed at the calves.

  My first instinct should have been to back away and give her some space. Instead, I stepped into the room, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans as I unabashedly studied her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Proving that I’m not fifteen anymore.”

  I bit my lip, my eyes moving slowly over her bare shoulders, the seductive swell of her breasts above the cups of her bra. Her belly was bare, her muscles quivering as my eyes moved slowly down over her ribs, her navel, her hips. Boy shorts with their wide swath of cloth over her hips and that impossibly teeny wisp that covered her cunt … I could see things I’m not sure she intended to show when she shifted, spreading her legs slightly before pressing her thighs together again. And those legs, long and toned and so fucking beautiful!

  She was killing me.

  She lifted a hand and held it out to me. “Come over here.”

  I wanted to. My entire body ached to go to her. And the smile on her face made my cock ache in a way only she could make it do. But …

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Surprise destroyed the erotic pose. She sat up a little straighter, her hands resting in her lap.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is this the wine talking?”

  She stood up and walked quite steadily toward me, her hips moving in that way that only a woman can make them do. She ran her hand slowly over my chest, her eyes coming up to mine.

  “This isn’t the wine. This is me doing what I should have done years ago. This is me showing you that I’m not that scared kid anymore. This is me asking you for a second chance.”

  I brushed my fingers over her cheek, emotion I hadn’t allowed myself suddenly rushing over me. Here she was, the woman I’d held up as perfection, comparing everyone else who came in and out of my life to. This was my first: my first love and my first lover. And I was hers. I thought I’d lost her before I truly possessed her, thought I’d lost my chance by pushing her too fast, too soon. But here she was, offering herself to me again.

  She pressed her body up against mine, her hand wandering from my chest to my belly, lower, her fingers brushing against my erection.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

  Those words, the look in her gorgeous eyes … I would have had to be made of steel not to respond to that.

  I buried my fingers in her hair and tugged her head closer to mine, capturing her lips with all the need that had been building inside of me since I heard her voice on the telephone. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an invasion. It was me reclaiming what had always been mine.

  I urged her jaws to loosen and allow me inside. And she did, opening up like it was all she had ever wanted. The taste of her burst against my tongue, filling me with a sense of déjà vu, a familiarity that I was beginning to think had only been my imagination. She still tasted like sugar and vanilla, like warm summer nights and Christmas morning. She was my past and my future all wrapped up in one incredible package, the dream I’d had since I was too young to understand fully what it was I wanted.

  She tugged at my shirt, pulling it up so that she could slide her hands underneath, her palms smooth and silky against the overheated flesh covering my ribs. Her touch wasn’t as hesitant now as it once was. In fact, she was confident in her touch, moving her hands along my hips, around my back, her fingertips teasing those spots no one else knew, no one else would think to explore. My hand wouldn’t behave either. I slipped it around her back, tugging her closer, blown away by just how silky her skin really was.

  My fingers slipped up to her bra, tugging at the clasp with just the one hand. I had to reluctantly move my other hand from her hair to undo it, but the reward when the bra split open in the back was the beauty of those heavy breasts falling free, her nipples dark and standing up, just waiting for the tender touch of my lips. I broke that kiss almost reluctantly, moving my mouth along the curve of her jaw, the slender angle of her neck, my tongue teasing the length of one collar bone before finally breathing heat on one of those perky mounds. She groaned, freeing one hand to press her palm against the back of my skull, to pull me tighter against her.

  Fuck!

  I wanted to take my time with her and taste every inch of her incredible body. But the taste of her, the feel of her, was pushing me to an edge I couldn’t step back from. I picked her up, my cock aching as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I needed to be inside of her in a way that I knew I would never want another woman. There’d been plenty of substitutes, plenty of kind, gentle women who could have made me happy. But none of them filled the hole that Kirsten had left in my life.

  I turned and pressed her up against the wall, my hands already searching for a way to pull those infernal panties from her body. Her hands were just as frustrated, tugging at the snap on my jeans, fumbling in their haste. She found satisfaction before I did, sliding her hand inside my briefs the moment my zipper began to separate. A noise like nothing that had ever come from my throat before slipped from between my lips. Her hand wrapped around my cock, creating a pleasure my mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

  It was too much. I was going insane!

  I ripped her panties, tore them from her hips, forcing her roughly against the wall as I somehow managed to free myself from clothing and her hand, as I thrust my cock hard against that swollen, wet pot of ecstasy that was her cunt. She buried her nails in my shoulders as I slid inside of her, her thighs pressing hard against my hips, a scream like nothing I’d ever heard slipping from her lips. And then we were one and I was completely out of my mind, moving by instinct and nothing else.

  It was quick. It was intense. And when I hit that wall, when I reached my peak, my knees refused to hold me. I stumbled back, pulling her with me. We landed on the bed in a hot, sweaty pile. Her face was pressed against my chest, her hair a wild mess over my face. She began to shake and, instinctively, I jumped to the conclusion that she was crying.

  “Kirsten?” I asked, smoothing her hair away from her face, lifting her head to see her face. And that’s when I realized she was laughing.

  “This is not how I imagined this going.”

  My eyebrows rose slightly. “No? Have you ever met you?”

  She smacked my shoulder. But then she was laughing again, the happiness and pleasure and relief written all over her face making her more beautiful than ever. I wrapped my arms around her and rolled her over, trapping her against the mattress. And then I kissed her.

  I never wanted to stop.

  Chapter 7

  Kirsten

  I curled against his chest, thinking I should have been exhausted, but my heart was so light that I wasn’t sure I could ever sleep again. I watched my fingers dance over the thin line of hair that grew between his navel and his cock, amazed by how soft it was. He hadn’t had that before, but there were a lot of differences between his sixteen-year-old body and his body now. And not all those differences were bad things.

  If I closed my eyes, I could see him as he was then. I could see him walking toward me, wearing his football jersey, a cocky smile on his handsome face.
I could see the sparkle in his eye when he pulled back after kissing me the first time. I could see the affection on his face when he held me in the afterglow.

  And then I opened my eyes and caught him watching me.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m starving.”

  I laughed. “Something smells good.”

  “It’s probably cold by now.”

  “I’m sure there’s a microwave in that fancy kitchen.”

  He pushed me off of him and climbed out of the bed, nearly running out of the room. I laughed, pausing to grab his shirt from the floor before I followed. By the time I got to the kitchen, he was standing naked in front of the microwave, plugging in the number of minutes he wanted the food to warm.

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me around in front of him, holding me against his chest.

  “Not anymore.”

  I laughed, pressing back against him, a sigh slipping out as the amusement turned to something else. He kissed the top of my head, his hand sliding under his shirt to caress the skin on my belly.

  “You feel so good in my arms,” he said, his lips against my temple.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He turned me around and caressed my face between both his hands, his fingers wandering into my hair, tugging my face up so that he could kiss me.

  “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

  I slid up against him and we kissed again, our lips lingering for a long while, only the sound of the microwave ending its cycle pulling us apart. Kevin grabbed the plate from the machine and pulled me back up the hall, tugging me into bed beside him as he dug into the food. After a few bites, he fed me a couple. It was probably the best chicken I’d ever had.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said after most of the food was gone.

  “Anything.”

  “Why don’t you want Dallas to marry this guy? Is it really about her, or is more to do with the ranch?”

  It wasn’t the question I’d expected.

  “I’m worried about her.”