Night Moves by Thea Devine Read Free Book Online Page B

anymore. Then why did he feel like one? And that he’d finally come home?
    â€œCarrie...?” Barely above a breath, his lips hovering just above hers. “Tell me what you want”
    She moistened her throbbing lips. His glimmering gaze followed every movement. “I want you to go away.”
    He followed the line of her tongue with his own. “Which way, Carrie? This way?” He pushed tighter against the cradle of her hips. “Or this way?” He slipped his tongue between her lips, sneaking behind her defenses once again.
    She caved against him. How did you fight such provocative kisses? Why did she want to? But she knew: because she would be leaving. Someday soon, she would go, so why start any kind of relationship with Truck? She’d only have to leave him behind.

    Right. Time for a reality check. “Truck...”
    â€œRight here.”
    â€œUm, I understand this kind of thing could be seen to have some peripheral relationship to plumbing, but—”
    â€œOnly if you don’t talk.” He delved into her mouth again.
    Carrie wriggled against him, terribly aware of all that muscle and sinew, and the fact she was making things worse. How had she gotten into this situation? “I think it’s safer to talk.”
    â€œMaybe not safer.”
    Men had all the answers. “All right. Safer if you go.”
    â€œSafe for—whom, did you say?” he murmured, sliding his hands gently up and down her midriff.
    Dear Lord, he remembered. Of all the things for him to remember, Carrie thought frantically. It begged the question what else he remembered. She could think of a dozen things, a dozen secrets she thought had been buried long ago.
    This was a major error in judgment. And his face was so close to hers, and his mouth, and those glinting eyes. His warmth. His scent. All the things she remembered that made him so seductive and tantalizing...when she was seventeen. Who was the adult here? she wondered fuzzily. Me.
    â€œMe,” she said out loud, maybe just a little testily. “And better for you.”
    â€œBetter for now maybe,” he said lightly. “Maybe.”
    â€œToo many maybes,” Carrie said. “I don’t do maybes.”
    Truck looked at her for a long moment, then he removed his hands. Carrie was in warrior-princess mode, feeling too much and too vulnerable, and prickly as a porcupine, to boot.

    Well, he was a man who knew how to wait. He’d waited fifteen years. He moved away from her and into the living room. Safe neutral territory there.
    â€œOkay,” he said, untying his shirt and slipping it on. That was safe too, even though he was keenly aware that Carrie watched his every movement. She couldn’t help herself any more than he; there was a highly charged link between them, and it didn’t have much to do with two fumbling teenagers. If Carrie needed to feel safe, he’d make her feel safe as a fortress, so be it.
    â€œTell you what,” he said. “Let’s do Saturday instead.”
    Carrie blinked. “What?” She bit her lip. What was she doing, chasing him away and then avidly watching his hands. Oh, those hands, those wicked, tempting hands.
    What had he said? Do Saturday?
    â€œSure,” she said, still bemused. “Maybe.”

4
    M AYBE?
    Maybe not.
    She had to be crazy, Carrie thought. Truck McKelvey was not on her schedule of things to take care of this summer. She could not allow that man anywhere near her or her kitchen ever again. He was too steamy, too alluring, too all-fired there.
    Who would have guessed? Fifteen years had passed, and the effect Truck had on her was just as potent as ever. All she had to do was look at him and her temperature soared just as it had that year that she had let him get so close. Too close. Close enough she’d almost gotten burned, she’d wanted him that bad. But not bad enough to give up her dreams. And she’d been right.