Lori Wilde - Stop The Wedding! - Night Driving / Smooth Sailing / Crash Landing

He must have come to the same conclusion, because they broke apart simultaneously, Boone swearing softly under his breath, Tara inhaling sharply. He almost lost his balance as he stepped away from her, but he managed to right himself without toppling over. Legs trembling, she wasn’t in much better shape. She stood there with her back pressed against the door, afraid to move in case she did fall and nervous as hell about the feeling blooming inside her.

His eyes hooked on her face, his expression impassive. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. She had an urge to pull her shirt up over her face to hide from him. She was afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

She drew air into her lungs as deeply as she could against the tight band of emotion constricting her chest. He’d knocked her off kilter, both emotionally and physically, doing things to her with his wicked tongue that left her senseless. She’d kissed other guys before, but no kiss had ever made her feel like this.

“This…” She paused, exhaled.

“I know.”

“It’s—”

“No need to explain.”

“I don’t want you to—”

“Shh.” He placed an index finger over her lips. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay! “Boone, I want you, I want this but—”

“No,” he said brusquely. Then, without another word, Boone turned and limped back toward their camp.

AN HOUR LATER, Boone lay under the stars, the back of his head resting in his upturned palms, his fingers interlaced, elbows extended. His knee ached, but he barely noticed because another body part ached even more.

From the makeshift tent beside him, he could hear Tara’s soft, feminine snores. He smiled up at the sky. If he told her she snored, he knew she’d deny it six ways to Sunday.

He thought about the rough, demanding way he’d kissed her, driven by pure primal instinct. It scared him how easily he’d lost control. The mysterious, beguiling power Tara held over him bamboozled Boone. Why Tara?

What was it about her that so enthralled him? She was gorgeous, granted, but the attraction was more than that. Whenever Tara looked at him in that perky way of hers, he felt completely naked. As if she could see right through his defenses, understood him and liked him anyway. This was why he’d avoided her for so long. Deep down, he’d known she had the power to crack his foundation, and Boone was nothing if not dug in.

And then there was that kiss they’d shared.

Well, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to label their relationship or read anything into the kiss. But he could still taste her salty-sweet flavor and he wanted more. So much more. That’s what he’d been trying so hard to avoid—this disturbing fever-pitch level of intense longing.

Absent-mindedly, he licked his lips. He’d married Shaina and she’d never kissed him the way Tara did, full of reckless, determined intent. Once upon a time, he’d been infatuated with this ex-wife, but she’d never dominated his thoughts the way Tara did. A whole lot less passion than he felt for Tara had led him to a Vegas wedding chapel. That was the problem. He had no real internal barometer when it came to women.

Tonight had shown him just how explosive he and Tara were together. They had been fully into each other and the more they’d tasted, the more they wanted. He thought of how the cheek of her sweet ass had felt cupped in his palm, only the flimsy material of her underwear between his hand and her bare skin, and Boone groaned out loud.

How far would they have taken it if the sound of coyotes hadn’t pulled them apart? Would he have had the presence of mind to stop on his own? He liked to think so, but Tara had a way of turning him inside out and upside down. Whenever he was around her, he found himself wanting…well, what did he want from her?

Sex, obviously, but it was more than that. She had qualities that, even though he might moan about them, secretly appealed to Boone. He liked her quirkiness and how she kept him off guard. For instance, he didn’t know any other woman who would have taken that U-Haul off-road. Impulsive yes, but brave. Plus, she was a problem solver. Granted, things had not turned out the way she’d planned, but he had to admire a woman who took action.

He closed his eyes, struggled to sleep. He kept smelling her scent, seeing her smile, tasting her lips, hearing her breathing and feeling her supple skin beneath his fingertips. He wished…hell…he wasn’t even going to try to articulate what he wished.

Dumb.

This was dumb and useless. There was no point longing for things that weren’t good for him. The military had taught him to control his urges, to face temptation head-on and plow his way through things. But the army never bargained on a force of nature like Tara Duvall. That seductive sway of hers could coax a saint into sinning.

The night breeze blew over him. Even though it was early July, it was still cool in the dampness of the fallow field. He sat up and poked at the fire, stirring the embers for warmth.

Remember why you’re here. You’re on the road to stop your sister from marrying the wrong man .

That did the trick. Thinking about Jackie got his mind off Tara. At least for a few minutes, but the trouble was that thinking about Jackie made him realize that he might not get to Key West in time. Not with this detour. What if no one came along in the morning?

To keep from fretting, he did mental math. Tomorrow was Thursday. They were sixteen hundred miles from Miami. If they drove an average of sixty miles per hour then it would take about twenty-six hours. He had to factor in at least four stops. If by some miracle someone came by, they got the car repaired and were back on the road by noon tomorrow, he could reasonably expect to get to Key West by late Friday night or early Saturday morning. Still plenty of time to stop Jackie’s late-afternoon wedding. But that was assuming everything went well.

Boone never assumed anything, and he always prepared for the worst, but what he’d never factored in was getting in the path of Hurricane Tara.

THE SOUND OF a tractor woke Tara at dawn.

She came out of the tent blinking, yawning and stretching. Boone was sitting on the blanket, strapping the metal brace to his leg. He stopped in midmotion, his gaze fixed on her.

She realized then that the oversized T-shirt she slept in had risen up along with her stretch, revealing the edge of her pink panties. Struggling against the heat that flooded her cheeks, she ducked her head and immediately lowered her arms.

“Pink?” One quizzical eyebrow arched on his forehead.

Tara pretended she hadn’t heard him. Somehow, the knowledge that Boone had seen her underwear bothered her more than the kiss they’d shared the night before. There was something just too intimate about it. Quickly, she found her blue jeans and tugged them on, almost tripping herself in her haste.

The sound of the tractor grew louder.

“Someone’s coming,” she said.

“I was trying to get my brace on and get out into the road to wave them down,” Boone explained.

“I’ll do it,” Tara offered.

He gave a fake cough, glanced at her chest.

She straightened, glanced down and saw that her erect nipples were poking through the thin cotton material of her T-shirt. Good grief!

Boone’s mouth pulled up in a smirk, even though she could see him fighting against it. “You might want to put on a bra.”

Sexual tension vibrated between them and her breath slipped rapidly between her teeth as she imagined exactly what he must have been thinking. She nibbled a thumbnail, glanced around on the pretense of finding her bra, but honestly, she was just trying to look anywhere but into his eyes.

Then she remembered she’d left it inside the tent. She crawled back inside, found her bra, wrestled it on and then stepped back outside.