Page 20 of A Shot in the Dark (Fated Mates Collection | Triple Threat #1)
“ T hat’s what I thought, too,” he mutters. “True and royally fucked…” He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t volunteer any information. And honestly? I’m too tired to try and dig at whatever it is he knows or thinks he knows. I want time. Time to sleep, to rest, and reflect.
I want that for both of us, but I think we need it separately.
We have miles and hours between us and the dead man when I urge, “Pull over.”
“Why?”
“I want you.”
“You don’t.”
“I need you.”
Gravel spews up from the tires as Boots pulls the car onto the shoulder.
We’re barely in park and his hands are already coasting their way from my breasts to my hips.
Ten minutes later, slumped in the front seat, one bare foot resting on Boots’ shoulder and the other on his knee, I bask in the afterglow, a puddle of contentment.
His bare right hand rests between my legs almost protectively, fingers mindlessly stroking me as we continue barreling forward.
“What the fuck am I going to do about you, princess?” he murmurs.
Wondering if the question is merely a hypothetical musing, I let the silence gather, enjoying the comfort of his petting, the intimacy without expectation, the calm between storms.
He turns to look at me.
This take-charge man is not speaking hypothetically but asking me what I want.
“What do you think you should do with me?”
He pulls over again and demonstrates quite thoroughly. Our fucking is thorough, fast—almost nothing like
Deep down we both know time is running out for us.
And we both know there is nothing either of us is equipped or able to do about it—regardless of what Boots keeps in the second duffel bag in the trunk.
I know it.
He has to know it.
Hours fly by on our way back north. He’s homing in on the county I mentioned needing to reach. “That’s fine,” he suggests, though I’m not sure he believes it. “It’s at least not where I was supposed to drop you.”
No one follows us. Boots continues taking precautions, performing evasive maneuvers like they’re second nature, to make sure.
Evasive maneuvers are second nature to Boots.
Regardless of how many times I ask, he still gives me no name, no other significant identifying details.
He had a truck, a dog named Spot, messed around with the rodeo, served in special forces, works for an agency that may or may not want us both dead now, drives amazingly well but fucks even better, can handle a gun decently but my clit unerringly, gave up seven days to protect me when no one else would…
…and he has a strict code he’s always adhered to.
A code that he’s breaking for me .
That’s the thing I wish I didn’t know about Boots.
That’s the thing I need to fix.
“So, I know the county, how about the city or town?”
“Greenbriar.”
His head tilts. “Greenbriar, huh?”
“Yes.”
“What’s Greenbriar to you?”
Red flag.
I attempt evasive maneuvers, thinking that, in a twisted way, it would make him proud. “I know someone there.”
A heaviness builds in the air between us.
“You… know someone there.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all you’re giving me?”
“Yes.” I slide a glance in his direction. “Unless you give me your name.”
The exhale that rushes out of him comes straight from the deepest part of his heart. “Princess. I can’t .”
“Okay then.” This is only temporary. And it needs to remain that way.
Another hour on the road and I break the silence I encouraged. “My fever’s completely gone.”
He reaches out and strokes the back of his hand down my face, going slowly from my forehead to my chin like he’s done so many times before. “Good girl,” he rumbles as I nuzzle his wrist. “You might be right.” His next words are strained: “And my mark?”
I drop the vanity mirror down, lift my blonde hair up, and examine the skin. “Still fading—so fast it’s like I was bred to be brutalized.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “ Shit .” The idea makes him shift in his seat.
The marks are fading, the bond changing, the dreams though, the strange glimpses as if of some other world?
Gone as if they never existed. Just a set of strange memories or the product of an overstimulated imagination.
Fever dreams of a different sort? I can’t be sure.
“The bond—I still feel it. It’s different now.
It has to break pretty soon, though, right? ”
“I…” He glances away before returning his eyes to the road. “Yeah. It should only be seven days. Only temporary.”
His tone doesn’t carry the same assurance I expected.
He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders.
Then his lips twist in something halfway between a faint smile and a grimace, and I know he’s making plans—which means I have to continue making my own evasive maneuvers, engaging strategy—for both our sakes.
I wake to find us parked, Boots gently rubbing my arm. “Hey.” The word rumbles out of him.
“Are we there—?” Sitting up, I realize we are most certainly not in Greenbriar.
Instead, the Town Car is parked at the top of a mountain that looks like it would provide the perfect scenic overlook in the entire world, if only it had a roomy parking lot.
Instead it’s a miraculously quiet, completely empty spot.
Only birdsong and the scents of early spring—of flowers and hope—greets us.
Boots has slipped out of his seat and is carefully—politely—opening my door. My foul-mouthed, dirty-talking knight.
“I found this spot on another job a couple years ago. Always thought I’d find my way back someday. When the time was right.”
Before I can ask what he means, he’s turned me around, pointing over my shoulder as he slips behind me. “But the time will never be right—not for you and me—so I’m taking what I can get. And in a minute you’ll see a sunset that’s nearly unbeatable.”
“You brought me here to watch a sunset with you?”
Red flag.
Warm against my back, he is a solid and powerful presence. “Yeah,” he says simply. He runs his fingers lightly through my hair, lifting it away from my shoulder, my neck, and the mark he left on me—the mark that appears to fade more and more with every passing moment. Our time is running out.
I know it.
He knows it.
He has to know it.
We’re just dealing with it in different ways. I’ve noticed the way he talks to me—so softly, like everything is a secret shared only between us. I see it in the way he watches me, the smile coming more easily to his face when he realizes he’s been caught.
Red flag.
Red flag.
Whatever the madness was that overtook me has passed. And the bond that should be ending? It’s still changing, keeping him leashed to me. Keeping him tied to me, like some common dog.
And I can’t bear the idea of that. Boots is so much more.
This was all supposed to be temporary.
It should mean nothing, just fade and become some sweet and strange memory, something to look back on later and wonder about.
Not every adventure needs to be meaningful.
Not every knight needs a lady—some need to head right back into battle.
Maybe to pay their bills on time. Maybe to lead some crazy rebellion and rework some aspect of his world I will never understand.
Because he will never let me in far enough to understand.
That’s not what a “one and only” should do.
Right?
It’s above my paygrade to decide what destiny holds for Boots.
It’s only in my purview to understand we need to go our separate ways. Both of us back to worlds we understand.
He simply needs to drop me off in Greenbriar and go on his way. Like he planned. I’ll be safe and, I hope, he’ll be safe.
Ours was just a one-night stand that rocketed out of control, a bit of temporary insanity, and now? I need to let him go back to his world so I can return to mine—both of us changed, hopefully both for the better.
“Tell me again that you need me,” he murmurs, breath skimming lightly along the back of my neck. There’s a rustle behind me, the sound of a zipper descending, and my eyes flutter closed.
Boots’ fingers reach under the edge of my skirt, lifting the hem above my hips, his fingers coasting along my skin so lightly that I shiver.
He rests his hot cock against my ass as he tugs my top off and sets it on the roof of the Town Car.
Ahead of me the sun continues its descent, colors bleeding into the sky in an array of pink and orange as Boots undoes my bra and lifts it off of me.
My breasts press against the cool glass of the passenger’s side window as he nuzzles my neck, nipping, teasing.
Growling in that way that makes my panties wet.
“I’ll mess up your pristine car,” I protest. “You hate your car getting dirty…”
He groans. “We’re past that point. Fuck the car,” he murmurs. “Tell me you need me, princess. I’ll drop everything. Ignore every deadline, burn every bridge, shred each affiliation…”
My heart …
The thing tying us together, that leash that’s gradually been loosening thread-by-thread and day-by-day, tightens once more, to hold us firm. But if I work at it hard enough, I know I can get the edges to fray. I can set Boots free of his obligation to me.
Tell me you need me …
Not “ tell me you love me,” though I think need and love are the same to Boots.
A sigh shudders out of me as Boots shifts my panties down and nudges my feet wider apart.
No reminder of safe words, or ground rules—though Boots still follows the rules with a meticulous attention to detail.
No dirty talk singes my ears, only Boots’ raw desire spiking my own, as his powerful arms bracketing me on the car, fingers twitching.
“I’ll make it work, princess,” he groans, slowly easing into me, inch by tenuous inch, filling me with his still-swelling cock.
I press back against him greedily, stealing a bit of his control.
“I’ll figure out a way…” I feel his lips on my neck— his lips —kiss the faint traces of his mark, whispering sweet things against my healing flesh. He rolls his hips against mine, slowly, decadently, like we have all the time in the world.