Page 29 of Lone Star Country Protector
“I’d hate for my sister to wake up only to find herself alone,” Blakely said as she walked over to Dalton.
In a surprise move, he hauled her against his chest and held on to her. As he whispered calm reassurances in her ear, tears trickled down her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a good cry. Maybe she was overdue. Because the other option, the one where she felt at home in Dalton’s arms, wasn’t something she was ready to face.
“Do you want to stick around?” he asked.
“I want to,” she admitted. “Except that staying here means not making progress on figuring out who is responsible for all this.”
“There’s no wrong answer,” Dalton said, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of her neck as she looked up at him.
The move might have been a mistake, but she couldn’t regret it. Her gaze dropped to his lips—kissable, thick lips that broke over straight white teeth when he smiled.
“Would you kiss me?” she asked.
The question barely left her lips before his grazed hers. He feathered kisses on the corners of her mouth, the dimple in her chin, before covering her lips in a kiss that made her understand the termweak in the knees. She brought her hands up to his broad shoulders to steady herself against the wave of desire that slammed into her, sending heat swirling in her belly and on the tender skin of her inner thighs.
Bringing her arms up to loop around his neck caused her full breasts to press against a wall of muscle as sensations lit up her body like a pinball machine.
No matter how many days and weeks passed, she hadn’t been able to erase Dalton from her thoughts. She’d dreamed of seeing him again. Although, to be fair, not under these circumstances. He was here now, causing her body to hum with anticipation as need welled up, a squall forming in her chest.
A man like Dalton could shred her.
The thought was the equivalent of a bucket of ice water being thrown on her. She pulled back enough to break their lips apart, instantly missing the way his had felt moving against hers.
“I’m sorry,” she heard herself say, breathless. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Am I complaining?” came the response, and she couldfeel his smile as it spread sunshine over her. The fact he was breathless too shouldn’t make her want him more. But she did. She’d never wanted anyone more than she wanted Dalton Remington right this minute.
Realizing she’d crossed a professional line—though was it, considering they’d already made love?—she took a step back to put some space between them. This close, she couldn’t trust her fingertips not to smooth over his chest and back, mapping every muscle and scar, memorizing every curve and line on a perfect body as she had that weekend.
“We should go,” she managed to say, clearing her throat to ease some of the dryness.
“Whatever you want,” he said.
Tempting.Because she knew exactly what her real answer would be.Him.And that was out of the question.
Or was it?
Chapter Eleven
Dalton reached for Blakely’s hand and then linked their fingers as they walked out of the hospital after stopping by the nurse’s stand. They’d learned that Bethany was resting peacefully and would most likely be out of it for the rest of the night. The update calmed Blakely’s nerves about leaving her sister alone at the hospital.
He was scratching his head as to how Greg could have walked out before seeing his wife and why the man would have brought the blonde with him.Tackywas the first word that came to mind. Others followed, but he didn’t want to focus on those.
Halfway to his truck in the hospital parking lot, he got the prickly-hairs-on-the-back-of-his-neck feeling. The one you get when someone is watching you. A protective arm went around Blakely’s shoulders after dropping her hand. He pulled her close so the shooter, if there was one, would have a difficult time figuring out where he stopped and she began.
“What is it?” she asked, going with the flow. She must have realized something was off based on his body language.
Dalton surveyed the area. The sun was high in the sky on a late Sunday afternoon, blinding him when he looked in the direction he felt eyes on them. “A bad feeling.”
Blakely froze. “Should we turn around?”
Dalton normally stared danger in the face instead of turning tail. Setting his pride aside, he couldn’t risk a shooter watching them with the sun to his back. Rather than risk her safety, he said, “You go inside, and I’ll grab the truck.”
“Is that safe?” she asked.
“They don’t want me,” he said.
“What if they decide punishing me is better than killing me?” she asked with a vulnerability in her voice that caused his free hand to fist. She had a point. They had no idea who was doing this and for what reason. Though, he suspected this was someone she’d given the maximum sentence to while seated on the bench.
