Chapter 61

The second Nakos's lips met Amy's, he knew he was in trouble. The deep kind that drown a person where they stood and left no recourse for salvation. He'd cupped her face, dipped his head, and planted one right on her never-shut-up, poutier-than-hell mouth.

And blew logic right out of the water.

They barely touched, were suspended in a shocked-immobile pause in time, but moving wouldn't have mattered. He felt the feather-light press of her lips in every molecule of his body.

Hihcebe, she drove him batshit mad. The constant arguing and assumptions and distractions. It was enough to make a man crazy. Proven by their current position.

In all the years he was attracted to Olivia, not once had he lost it. He'd never had the urge to push boundaries, cross the line, or act on the hovering desire. Amy, though? She wound around his control so adamantly she'd snapped him off at the root. Rendered thought a cloud of dust in her wake. Burrowed under his skin until nothing made sense.

The light signature of her perfume wove around him, carried on a gentle wind, familiar but somehow new. He couldn't put a name to the sultry scent if he tried. It reminded him of summer nights and moonlight and warm breezes. Atmospheric, elemental, and sensual in the same breath. Distinctly her. The first time he remembered noticing it was back in high school at her prom. On and off since then, he'd catch a trace of it and a punch of recognition would slam into him, halting whatever he'd been thinking or doing.

She made a noise in her throat, part mewl and completely feminine. Her fingers flexed against his hips, bunching his shirt in her fists. Yet, she made no attempt to shove him away. Or bring them closer.

The hell with it. If he was going to screw up everything, he may as well do it right.

Threading his fingers through her soft strands, he held her to him while wrapping his other arm around her waist. He backed her to the tree, pinning her body in place with his, and rough bark bit into his skin. Heart thundering, he slanted his mouth over hers for a tighter fit.

Two things hit him at once. First, how her supple curves cushioned his hard frame. It was as if she were designed exactly for him. For this. Perfect alignment. Despite their height difference, they synced like one unit clicking into place. Her full breasts crushed against his chest and the way she'd spread her legs so he could stand between them had her cradling his throbbing shaft just right. And second, he'd always known her mouth was a weapon. Whether it was her sharp tongue or her stop traffic grin, the military should have it in their possession. But he'd underestimated the damage it could inflict.

Because he was leveled. She'd stormed his castle and invaded. At least, he'd thought so, until she parted her lips and their tongues met. Hot, slow swipes that shifted from a trial of caution to languid caresses in a blink. Detonation. Forget the castle. She obliterated his entire existence.

He had no idea she could be submissive. In fact, had anyone claimed such a thing, he would've died laughing. Twice. Yet, here she was, up against him and compliant, letting him do whatever he damn well wanted.

And want her he did. With everything in him.

Didn't it figure the only time she'd follow his commands and allow him the upper hand was when he couldn't remember his own name. Liquid heat poured through his veins. His heart couldn't decide between shifting organs or cracking ribs. He took advantage of the rarity and dove deeper, thrust into her warm, wet cavern of a mouth and explored. She tasted like lemonade, the sweetness of it blending with a barely stoked fire. Lungs seizing, he rocked against her.

She arched toward him, her hands tracing up his spine and back down as if she was unsure what or how much to touch. Her breathing accelerated, the hard peaks of her nipples begging for attention as they grazed his chest. His fingers flexed against her back, thumb stroking the material of her shirt. He'd rather be under it. Have her skin against his.

He'd always considered himself a patient man. With previous partners, he'd preferred a gentle mating and a slow climb. Savoring. Unhurried. But his body was having none of that with Amy. A primal need to dominate surged within his entire system. Barbaric in its intensity and shocking him to his marrow. Damn, but he wanted to climb inside her.

Urges. Mercy, the urges.

The kiss became frantic, desperate, and he growled low in his throat. As if needing proof he'd made the noise, she ran her fingertips across his chest and he did it again. More. He needed more of her touch. It was too much and not enough. Her other hand latched onto the back of his neck, her nails lightly raking his nape. The contact followed a nerve path straight to his erection, and he jerked.

A sharp cry, and he tore his mouth away. Resting his cheek against hers, he stared at the bark on the tree trunk, mere inches from his face, and siphoned air.

Long moments passed, neither of them moving, and he couldn't risk looking at her. She'd responded, had been right there with him, but he had no clue what he'd find in her bluish-green depths. The uncertainty was unnerving. The way he was still vibratingfrom a kiss, no lesswas like an exclamation point to the holy shit.

Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. Attraction, desire, affection? Sure. Animalistic need? Untamed passion? A soul-jarring, control-clawing connection? No. Never.

After he didn't know how long, her throat clicked with a swallow and she took a breath like she was going to say something.

Please, no. He couldn't handle one of her Amy-isms or her potentially blowing this off. Worse, her gutting him with another truth.

Removing his hand from the back of her head, he placed it over her mouth instead. "Don't speak." Closing his eyes, he turned his face toward hers and rested his forehead to her temple. His nose brushed her cheek and his heart turned over in his chest. "Give me five seconds to wrap my mind around what just happened. Please."

She was always quick with a joke or comeback or witty insight, but he wasn't as clever. His thought process took much longer to engage. Half the time, he had no clue how to respond to her. Considering she'd just blown his gray matter into the ether, he was screwed.

They'd just flipped twenty-one years of friendship onto its side. And he was still hard in the aftermath.

She mumbled something against his palm.

Knowing he'd regret it, he lowered his hand.

"It's been five minutes, not seconds." She inhaled slowly and ran her fingers through his ponytail. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but do you plan on saying something soon?"

The uncertainty in her voice leveled him a second time. Or third. Fifth? Whatever. If Amy was unsure, there was no hope at all for him.

How he reacted to this moment could make or break everything they'd been to one another. She'd been hurt before, unimaginably and by a man who was supposed to love her. Self-esteem was such a fragile thing, and though Amy never struck him as delicate, he'd learned that even she was breakable.

Three months ago, his heart had stopped dead at finding her on that barn floor, and he realized, shockingly, that it had just started beating again. Nothing he said would encompass what he was feeling since he didn't even know himself. And until he did, no way would he be another in a long line inflicting her harm. He'd die first.

He skimmed his hand down her hair, smoothing the strands, and let out a careful breath. "We'll talk later. Give me an hour to get the horses situated, then we can head back to the cabin."

Without waiting for a response, he bent and picked up his hat, then strode down the hill toward the barns. On autopilot, he groomed the horses, put them back in their stalls, and fed them.

His legs were still weak and his mind numb when he went in search of Amy again, finding her in the same spot he'd left her. Legs sprawled in front of her, she leaned against the tree with the dog's head in her lap.

Staring into space, she didn't seem to notice his approach and her expression was void of any emotion. Since he couldn't read her, he had no way of knowing what to say any more than he had right after the kiss. His body hummed just being in her vicinity, though.

"You ready?" He cleared the rasp from his voice. "Figured we'd swing by the store to grab something for dinner."

She nodded and rose, grabbing her camera. She said zilch on the way to the store and waited in the truck for him instead of going inside. She then said even more nothing on the ride back to the cabin. He barely had the door shut behind them and she headed upstairs. Where she remained the rest of the afternoon.

Concern took on a new name while he fired up the grill. Not knowing if her food quirks were a diet thing, he'd bought two chicken breasts and veggies, figuring she'd eat that. He turned the foil packet of broccoli, carrots, and red peppers over and watched the meat, trying to figure out how to approach the subject of what had happened by the tree.

After plating the food and bringing it inside to the table, he was no wiser for the contemplation. He climbed the stairs and knocked on her open bedroom door. She was sitting on the bed, laptop in front of her, and pictures scattered by her hip.

"Can I come in?"

Type, type. "It's your house, Nakos."

He ground his teeth. One step forward, three backward with her. "But it's your room."