Jill Sorenson - Set The Dark On Fire

A flush crept up his neck. “I never wanted to find out…” He paused, for that statement would have been blatantly untrue. “I never thought you were like-” He stopped and swore, having backed himself into a corner there, too.

“Let me save you the trouble,” she said, advancing on him, shoving at his chest. “I’m a slut, just like Chad said. Just like my mother. If you hadn’t interfered, I’d have shown Travis a real good time. Hell, I’d have serviced all three of you. At the same time! Now, aren’t you sorry you missed out on that action?”

He didn’t know what to say to that, or how to react. He just stood there, a pained, bewildered expression on his face.

Angel didn’t need his jealousy, his judgment, or his confusion. She didn’t even want his friendship. Not anymore. “Go home, Dylan,” she said with a sigh, her anger leaving as quickly as it came. “Go home and grow up.”

His eyes darkened at her words, but he made no reply. Showing an impressive amount of control for a boy his age, he only gave a curt nod and walked away.

Dylan returned home in a foul mood, turned the stereo on full blast, and dumped the contents of his backpack out on the middle of the bed. Ears ringing soothingly, mind numbing from heavy metal anesthesia, he reached into the corner of his closet and brought out his stuff.

Shay would freak out if she knew what he kept in here. But she didn’t know. If there was anything good about his sister, it was that she didn’t snoop. She didn’t come into his room, or rifle through his personal belongings, or interrogate him about where he’d been.

She didn’t care.

Well, she cared about his grades, because they were his ticket out of this shithole town, and she cared about his game, for the same reason.

Scowling, he shoved the contraband items into his backpack, knowing he couldn’t have another run-in with the law. He couldn’t wait to get out of Tenaja Falls, but if he didn’t do something to release the tension inside him, he was going to explode.

He couldn’t believe Angel had slept with Chad.

It wasn’t that he’d expected her to be innocent. She’d dated Tony Duran for years, and although Tony was quiet and religious and stuff, everyone assumed they’d done it. Angel’s age, and her experience, was actually part of her appeal. Dylan would have no idea how to handle a virgin. The idea of hurting a girl, especially that way, made him cringe.

And he liked the way Angel had taken charge in his bedroom.

The first time he kissed her, she’d laughed. That made him mad, so he gripped her upper arms and kissed her again, with more enthusiasm. She stopped laughing, but she also broke the contact, putting her hands on his chest and holding him at bay.

“Like this,” she’d said, brushing her lips over his, very softly.

It was nice, and although he’d wanted to crush his mouth over hers and French kiss like they did in movies, he forced himself to relax and let her call the shots. It was a good choice, because she moved her hand to the nape of his neck, threaded her fingers through his short hair, and kept kissing him.

That had really turned him on. He went motionless, afraid he would do something wrong and she would stop. To his amazement, she continued, teasing him with small licks and-oh, God-little nibbles.

Then a lightbulb had gone off inside his head. She was kissing him the way she wanted him to kiss her .

Curbing his natural inclination to be overeager, he slid his arm around her waist and leaned forward, kissing her back, using a lighter touch.

She made a low murmur of approval. He deepened the kiss, and she pressed closer, and… things got pretty heated after that.

He stared at the surface of his bed, picturing them there together, torturing himself by wondering if she’d responded the same way with Chad. A series of disturbing sexual images flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but consider the logistics of a scenario in which Angel serviced all three of them.

Stomach churning with nausea, he zipped up his backpack and strode out into the hall, grabbing his sister’s keys from the hook before he headed out the door.

Luke was having a hard time keeping his eyes off Shay Phillips.

As he drove the now-familiar road toward Dark Canyon State Preserve, the object of his inconvenient desire sitting passenger beside him, he analyzed her appeal.

He had to admit his initial impression of her hadn’t been completely accurate. She wasn’t just a party girl from the wrong side of the tracks or a kitty-loving bimbo with a biology degree. She was smart, dedicated, and responsible. Other than a night of mild debauchery for her birthday (and who could begrudge her that?) she seemed to have a quiet life. And she was doing an admirable job of raising her brother single-handedly.

If she had a lot of boyfriends, so what? He knew plenty of guys who played the field and didn’t get slammed for it. She was young and beautiful and sexy as hell. He could understand why she wasn’t in any hurry to settle down.

What he couldn’t figure out was why his gut clenched with longing every time he looked at her. Or why, for the life of him, he couldn’t stop looking. He was like a gawking schoolboy in her presence, and not only was it embarrassing, it was completely out of character for him. Slavering over a woman just because she was hot and available wasn’t his style. He’d had plenty of opportunities to indulge in casual encounters and no-strings sex in Las Vegas.

Why did he want that now when he never had before?

Okay, so she smelled good. Maybe pheromones were responsible for his uncontrollable physical reaction. And she looked good. He’d seen more beautiful women, but something about her made his senses go haywire.

Being able to picture her in wet lingerie didn’t help.

He cast a surreptitious glance her way, afraid she would guess what he was thinking. She was looking out the window, lost in her own world. A strand of blond hair blew across her face, lingering on her lips before she brushed it away.

Luke forced his gaze back to the road. As lovely as the sight of her near-naked form had been at the pond yesterday, it was her armpit, of all things, that had driven him over the edge. He’d been doing a passable job of controlling himself. The ice cold water had helped. But when she’d rubbed that herbal stuff under her arm, he’d been struck by the ridiculous urge to lick her there like a snow cone, and his entire body had gone rigid.

It was crazy! He’d never ogled a woman’s armpit before, let alone fantasized about making out with it. After thirty years in Vegas, he should have been anesthetized to sex, but one day with Shay Phillips had him panting like a teenager.

This morning he’d been no more successful at curbing his wayward thoughts. Watching a woman shave her legs was kind of a turn-on, he supposed, when the woman had legs like hers. Pale and silky-looking, miles long, a symphony of skin. He’d seen one soapy rivulet run down the inside of her thigh and wanted to follow its path with his tongue. From there, his mind had taken the natural progression, and he’d been down on his knees before her, mentally, when her little brother walked in.

He’d had to start a conversation about basketball to give himself time to recover.

Of course, she’d known exactly what she was doing. A woman didn’t frolic about half-naked or caress her slippery-smooth, soap-slick legs in front of a man unless she wanted to work him up into a lather.

The last thing he needed was to get involved with someone like her right now. She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t even his age .

Besides, he’d come here to lay low, not to get laid.