Page 16 of His Southern Temptation

“The mountains, the lakes, the farms, and the people. There’s no better place in the world. I’ve looked.”

“Your vision is skewed by the fact that no one is trying to shoot you here.” She paused, remembering their standoff the first night. “Well, other than me, and that was a mistake.”

“I’ll just have to show you the Elliott I know.” Lucky slid closer, his fingers brushing along her chin, wrapping around a blond strand and tugging slightly. “Maybe you’ll want to stay.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

“What if I wanted you to stay?”

And there it was. The look. The one he’d worn the last time he’d visited her in Hawaii. A night of dancing and laughing ended in her bed. Suddenly it was soft touches, whispered pleas, and looking into a gaze so intense it caused something in her chest to bloom and reach out for it.

It had scared the shit out of her. Not the feeling, but because it was something she wanted. Investing her heart in this man would take her over if she let it get even the smallest foothold. She refused to let it happen and be that vulnerable again.

Taylor pulled back, giving herself room to catch her suddenly rapid breath. He examined her face, searching for something in the depths of her eyes. She stubbornly fought the urge to close them in an effort to keep him from seeing too far into her soul, because if anyone could get in her head, in her heart, it was Lucky. Time to get back on safer ground.

“You’re tense. Let me rub your back.” She sat up, trying not to laugh at the rapid-fire emotions running across his face. “Stop. You’re overthinking this. Get your shirt off.”

“But—”

“Take. Your. Shirt. Off. Now.” She hopped up, wobbling a little on legs made woozy by the beers, but made it up the stairs and into her bath to find the oil. She skidded along the hardwood floors, anxious to get back before he changed his mind. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she descended, the rapid beats loud in her ears and transforming into a low roar when she rounded the corner into the family room and saw Lucky stretched out on the couch. Facedown, his long, lean back covered in tanned skin and defined by the angles of sleek muscles underneath. He was beautiful.

“Okay. This isn’t my table, but it should be fine.”

She knelt down next to him, pouring the oil and warming it in her hands before placing them softly on his back. It was a gentle contact, one that would allow him to become accustomed to being touched. As she moved along his spine, increasing the pressure, he tensed a little and she slipped into work mode as she eased him into the right state of mind.

“You know the drill. Tell me if anything hurts. If you want more or less pressure. If you want me to do something again.”

He nodded and she increased the force of her caress while spreading the oil over his back, following the angular lines of his body. The sandalwood oil she’d picked perfumed the air. She got into her zone and drank in the fine details of his body. The dark, heavy tribal tattoos stretching along both biceps and trailing over one shoulder, and a larger one spanning upward along his side that depicted a Joshua tree. His skin was sleek, smooth, and supple except for the battle scars—mostly old and healed over—that caused her touch to drag a little.

“Does that hurt?” she asked as her fingers coasted over a large scar.

“No.” His voice muffled in the cradle of his arms.

“Where did you get them?” She realized she’d never asked before. They weren’t usually about getting involved in each other’s real lives. There were all about fun, good times, and escape.

“Here and there. Long story.” Lucky shifted slightly so his voice was clearer.

“An interesting story?”

“No. Just a long one.”

“Are all these from the Marines?”

He hesitated, the tension easing back into some of his muscles, and she regretted being so nosy. Truth be told, she probably didn’t want to know.

“From government service,” he said.

“So, not just the Marines.” He made no move, gave zero indication that he heard her at all. Obviously, he wasn’t going to answer. “Are you ever going back to them?”

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