Page 17 of Embers

I pull my white top away from my skin. It’s so wet it’s sticking. And I give him a well-deserved scowl.

“You get hit,” he says in a soft, gravelly tone, “then you hit back. Right away and even harder.”

I narrow my eyes as I think about it. Then decide he might have a point. So I reach into my bucket, scoop out as much water as I can get in my hand, and splash it right in his face.

He makes a sputtering sound as he clears his eyes.

“Just following your advice,” I tell him sweetly.

Then I jump to my feet with a squeal because he’s coming after me. Chasing me down.Retaliating. He doesn’t run. I’ve never seen Cal run in all the time I’ve known him. But he stalks around the small space as I keep darting out of his grasp. I do try to act as serious as him, but there’s no way I can keep from giggling.

He’s still got that glint in his eyes. The one that looks like laughter, fondness. It fills my chest and makes my blood pulse with excitement.

I’m occasionally able to get close enough to one of our buckets to fling some more water and suds at him, but I’m too distracted to aim very well.

He waits until I make a mistake, letting myself get trapped in the corner by the recliner. Then I’ve got nowhere else to go, and he advances slowly, primally, like a predator.

I make a sudden dash, hoping to push past him, but I fail. Of course. He grabs me around the waist with one arm. I struggle and laugh and squeal—with excitement as much as anything else—but he’s too strong for me. I can’t get away.

I honestly don’t even want to. Not even to win our little game.

He’s laughing too as he swings me down to the floor. Out loud. Soft and low in his throat. He uses a hand behind my head to cushion the impact with the floor, but then he’s on top of me. Tickling me until I’m screaming with laughter.

After a minute, something changes. His face has been filled with warmth and humor and affection the whole time. I can recognize it for what it is because it’s the same thing I feel for him. But his eyes start to transform. Get hotter.

A lot hotter. Until it feels like his gaze might scorch me.

And the heat changes something inside me. I’m still rocking beneath him, but instead of playfully struggling in his grip, I’m arching up into his body. His legs are straddling mine in order to pin me down. He’s stopped tickling, and instead, he’s just holding himself up above me. He’s hard and hot and heavy above me, and I need it.

Needit.

My hands move to his shoulders and clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

We stare at each other, frozen in that position, for several seconds. I want so badly for him to kiss me that the need is clawing its way out of my body.

I never knew I was capable of feeling like this. Letting such a carnal urge claim such power inside me.

“Cal?” I gasp in almost the same exact voice I used after he let out that sexy groan when I was massaging his shoulders a few nights ago.

I need this desperately, but he has to choose it. I can’t make it happen just because I want it so much.

Honestly, I have no idea what might have happened. What he would have chosen. We’re not given the chance to find out.

Because our home is invaded just then. A group of men walk right through our open front door.

It’s four guys. Dirty, rough-looking sorts with guns and greasy hair. I’d immediately be on my guard if I saw them anywhere, but I wouldn’t automatically assume they were dangerous because a lot of people look like that now.

But they come right in without invitation, and two of them start cackling in that familiar way I’d never mistake. Pleased and nasty and malicious. All the hot throbbing in my body for Cal freezes in one instant at the shock and the sound of it.

“Told you we’d find Evans up on this mountain somewhere,” the biggest one says, grinning down at where Cal and I are still poised together on the floor, both of us damp with sudsy water. “Knew he wouldn’t’ve got far.”

These men know Cal. Theyknowhim. That one called him by his last name. It’s the first thing that clicks in my mind.

Cal reacts quicker than I do. He hauls himself up to his feet and moves in front of me, blocking me from the intruders. “Get out!” He sounds meaner than I’ve ever heard him.

“Hell of a way to greet your old pals.” It’s still the big one talking. He moves forward. Two of the other guys have put their hands on their guns.

I can barely breathe. Barely process thoughts. I thought Cal had trained me well to handle emergencies, but I wasn’t prepared for this. This is our home. We’re supposed to be safe here.

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