Page 41

Thank God.
Even with the cup he was wearing, she’d have slammed his nuts into his solar plexus.
“Fuck me, Sachi. Snap out of it.” The order had the desired effect. Her struggle ceased, and she glared up at him.
Her chest heaved with her harsh, shallow breaths. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart,” he growled, whether more pissed at her or himself, he had no idea. “I’m alive. Need proof?”
Then, because she was there, he slammed his mouth down on hers and satisfied an aching need he’d been nursing for more than two years.
Easing back on the punishing force of his lips crushing hers, he savored the first taste of her he’d had in too long. The tightness of her jaw eased when he nibbled a path across her lower lip. Still gripping her wrists, he was aware of the moment her struggle ceased. Raising his head, he stared into the dazed eyes—the hazel color nearly drowned out by her dilated pupils.
“You died,” she whispered. The harshness of the accusation was muted under the brutal pain underscoring her words. Sachi could be anyone, and she never let anyone inside the real her. Over the years, he’d seen glimpses, stolen moments—and this was another one.
“I’m not dead.” He needed her to believe him, to hear him, and to punch through the chokehold shock held over her. Adjusting his position, he blanketed her and made a place for his hips between her thighs.
Her lips parted on a gasp as he swooped down to take another taste, slipping his tongue inside to savor her. He knew what aroused her, what drove her higher, and Sachi liked to be kissed—kissing was personal. When her thighs locked on his hips and she sucked on his tongue, he groaned.
The urge to strip her bare and be with her right there warred with the reality of their location and the three-year chasm filled with jagged rocks between them. Drawing out her lower lip, he broke the kiss. Puzzlement creased the dazed expression on her face, then she blinked.
Their moment shattered with the next. The violent bleakness in her lost expression vanished, her eyes narrowed as she unclenched her palms. “Let me go.”
“Not a chance,” he told her, very aware she would bolt the moment he did. “Not until you’ve heard me out.”
Closing her eyes, she sucked in a noisy breath—noisy for her, anyway. The level of control she maintained over herself stunned lesser men. Being in the front row, a witness to her composure rebuilding and reasserting itself, left him aching. But he needed her together. He needed that sharp mind of hers focused on him, so she could hear the whole story. Then… Well, who knew what the fuck would happen then?
The pallor beneath her deep tan coloring began to ease, and the wild beat of her pulse began to slow. Her breathing grew easier, more controlled. Between one blink and the next, Copper reasserted herself. “Well, I always knew that when I cracked, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“You didn’t crack.” He stroked his thumb along the inside of her wrist—half to reassure himself she was still there and half to keep monitoring her pulse. “You had a hell of a shock.”
“I’m seeing dead people. I call that cracked. Or maybe schizophrenic. Hell, I feel dead people touching me.”
“Sachi…”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll get there. But to get there, I have to accept that not only are you not dead—you played dead forthree years.” She fired the last two words like bullets, and they struck his soul. “I’d have to accept you let me drift alone and in the wind. You let me grieve. You let me suffer. Yeah, to accept that you’re alive, I have to accept that you fucked my world over. I’m not sure I’m ready to hate you yet.”
He wasn’t sure he was ready for the hate, either. “I didn’t want to…”
With a near inaudible crack, she cut her gaze to him and glared. “Not wanting to do something and doing it are not mutually exclusive. You taught me that.”
Yes. Yes he had. “Do you want to have the answers to your questions or…?”
“What I want is the last three years back. What I want is to not have been left in the dark. I would have waited. One word, and I would have waited. Ididwait. Waited to die…and then I let you go.”
“And you fell in love with another man.” No, he hadn’t forgotten that part.
“Let me go, Brad.” Her request was low and throaty. “I need to call Gabriel.”
“He’ll survive a while longer.” The man had followed him, but Brad lost him on 80. If he figured out the chip, he’d have already arrived. “I don’t want to talk about him.” Not when he finally had her to himself. Not yet.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” She pushed the words out through gritted teeth, and her shocky pupils shrunk. The heat in her glare scorched him before the shutters closed and she went unreadable. Trusting she was back with him, he released her wrists, and with great reluctance, rose from pinning her.
Once on his feet, he extended a hand to her. She ignored the offer, choosing to stand on her own. After dusting off her jeans, she tried to finger comb the tangles from her hair. He didn’t miss her fisting a handful or the hard yank she gave herself. Pain reminded a body it was alive.
Not running away, she rubbed her wrists. They’d likely bruise. Another regret to weigh down the pile he already carried. At least she was thinking again. Acting, not reacting. She retrieved her phone from her back pocket then hit a contact on the front. Phone against her ear, she met his gaze. Questions flared beneath the seemingly placid surface.
“I’m all right,” she said after a moment. “I needed to think.” She went quiet, listening. “He’s here.” Another moment of silence. Was Gabriel asking where she was? “Near Lake Ray Hubbard—no…I don’t know.” Pulling her gaze from his, she gave him her back and walked toward the lake edge.