She lost track of his hands, consumed by the feel of his body against hers.
Then he’d pulled her shirt free of her riding pants, and sunlight stroked her bare stomach.
She gasped and broke the kiss, bracing an arm against his chest, using her other hand to try to yank her shirt back down.
“Hey,” he said. “Hey.” His eyes were locked on hers, his hand on her face, nowhere dangerous. His voice was soft. “Your scars aren’t all you are, Layne.” He settled back into the grass a bit, though his face was still close to hers. A smile played on his lips. “And I swear I’m not just saying that to get to second base.”
She laughed, but it came out like a sob, and she was terrified she was going to cry.
Gabriel shifted closer again, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “Do you really think I’m going to run if I see your scars?”
She turned her head to look at him. “Do you really think I’m going to run if I know your secrets?”
That chased the gentle humor off his face. It reminded her of Friday night, sitting on the tailgate of his car, when they’d played Truth or Dare. When she’d made a decision to jump, praying he’d be there to catch her.
She reached for his wrist, pulling his hand away from her cheek, drawing it down the front of her body. She held her breath again, sliding his fingers under the edge of her shirt. Her palm flattened over his hand, holding his skin against hers.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
She shook her head quickly, and he laughed.
Then he slid his hand out from under hers, stroking the length of her abdomen. His thumb traced the line of her bra.
She sucked in a quick breath.
“See?” He leaned in to speak against her ear. “I still think you’re beautiful.”
She knew exactly what his hands were feeling, exactly where the scars turned smooth skin into something that felt like melted rubber. She waited for him to jerk his fingers away, to make a sound of disgust, to recoil.
Instead, he slid her shirt higher, then bent to kiss his way across her stomach.
Every nerve in her body was firing. She thought she might hy-perventilate.
Especially when his teeth found the skin at the base of her rib cage.
At that moment, he could have told her he was a bank rob-ber, and she wouldn’t have cared. An arms dealer. A foreign spy.
All she knew was that suddenly clothes were in the way.
She started yanking at the shoulders of his sweatshirt, trying to drag it over his head. He laughed again, but this time it was a slow sexy growl of sound as he lifted enough to help her yank the hoodie free.
The contents of his pockets spilled across her bare skin, and she giggled, grabbing for keys and his iPod, tossing them on top of the abandoned sweatshirt. Then her fingers closed on something slick and metal.
She frowned as she held it up. “A lighter?”
Gabriel was staring at it in her hand, that same inscrutable expression on his face. Tousled hair, rumpled T-shirt. Somewhat lost, but defiant at the same time. Those typical defenses were falling into place.
For an instant she wondered if his big secret was that he was a smoker. But she couldn’t work that out in her head. She’d never seen him smoke a cigarette, had never smelled cigarettes or pot or anything on him or his clothes and god knew they’d spent enough time together over the last few days.
But why would he be carrying around a lighter if he wasn’t a smoker?
He still hadn’t said anything.
The horse snorted, lifting his head to look at the barn, his ears pricked. He’d moved down the hill a ways, but not far enough for her to worry.
She looked back at Gabriel. “A lighter?” she said again, bewildered. Intuitively, she knew that the time for easy answers had come and gone. It’s my brother’s, or I found it in the woods.
Maybe something like, It’s dead, but it used to belong to my father.
Gabriel sighed and pushed the hair back from his face. “That,”
he said, “is part of my secret.”
The horse snorted again, pawing at the grass. He was probably ready to spook at nothing.
Layne sighed and rolled to her feet, zipping up her jacket as she moved. She caught the horse’s lead rope and kept her voice even, trying to figure out the mystery before Gabriel laid it on the line. But she had no idea. “Your secret has to do with a lighter?”
He reached out to take it from her hand. “No. My secret has to do with fire.”
And at that precise moment, the roof of the barn burst into flame.
CHAPTER 31
Gabriel stared at the flames shooting through the barn roof, blazing flares of orange and red. Smoke poured into the sky. There was plenty of fuel here hay and wood and probably dozens of things he couldn’t even imagine. This fire didn’t rage it celebrated. The entire building would be consumed in minutes.
Something was banging inside the barn. He heard screams, inhuman cries that made him want to clamp his hands over his ears.
Horses.
He could feel his heart in his throat. He’d been pulling power from the sunlight, his emotions riding high.
Had he done this?
This made his mistake in the woods look like a campfire.
Layne was all action, shoving at his chest. Her horse was dancing at the end of his rope, but Layne held fast. She was yelling, her voice hoarse.
He realized she’d been yelling at him for some time.
“Take him, damn it! Get him in the field!” She punched him in the chest again, shoving the rope at him.
Then he’d pulled her shirt free of her riding pants, and sunlight stroked her bare stomach.
She gasped and broke the kiss, bracing an arm against his chest, using her other hand to try to yank her shirt back down.
“Hey,” he said. “Hey.” His eyes were locked on hers, his hand on her face, nowhere dangerous. His voice was soft. “Your scars aren’t all you are, Layne.” He settled back into the grass a bit, though his face was still close to hers. A smile played on his lips. “And I swear I’m not just saying that to get to second base.”
She laughed, but it came out like a sob, and she was terrified she was going to cry.
Gabriel shifted closer again, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “Do you really think I’m going to run if I see your scars?”
She turned her head to look at him. “Do you really think I’m going to run if I know your secrets?”
That chased the gentle humor off his face. It reminded her of Friday night, sitting on the tailgate of his car, when they’d played Truth or Dare. When she’d made a decision to jump, praying he’d be there to catch her.
She reached for his wrist, pulling his hand away from her cheek, drawing it down the front of her body. She held her breath again, sliding his fingers under the edge of her shirt. Her palm flattened over his hand, holding his skin against hers.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
She shook her head quickly, and he laughed.
Then he slid his hand out from under hers, stroking the length of her abdomen. His thumb traced the line of her bra.
She sucked in a quick breath.
“See?” He leaned in to speak against her ear. “I still think you’re beautiful.”
She knew exactly what his hands were feeling, exactly where the scars turned smooth skin into something that felt like melted rubber. She waited for him to jerk his fingers away, to make a sound of disgust, to recoil.
Instead, he slid her shirt higher, then bent to kiss his way across her stomach.
Every nerve in her body was firing. She thought she might hy-perventilate.
Especially when his teeth found the skin at the base of her rib cage.
At that moment, he could have told her he was a bank rob-ber, and she wouldn’t have cared. An arms dealer. A foreign spy.
All she knew was that suddenly clothes were in the way.
She started yanking at the shoulders of his sweatshirt, trying to drag it over his head. He laughed again, but this time it was a slow sexy growl of sound as he lifted enough to help her yank the hoodie free.
The contents of his pockets spilled across her bare skin, and she giggled, grabbing for keys and his iPod, tossing them on top of the abandoned sweatshirt. Then her fingers closed on something slick and metal.
She frowned as she held it up. “A lighter?”
Gabriel was staring at it in her hand, that same inscrutable expression on his face. Tousled hair, rumpled T-shirt. Somewhat lost, but defiant at the same time. Those typical defenses were falling into place.
For an instant she wondered if his big secret was that he was a smoker. But she couldn’t work that out in her head. She’d never seen him smoke a cigarette, had never smelled cigarettes or pot or anything on him or his clothes and god knew they’d spent enough time together over the last few days.
But why would he be carrying around a lighter if he wasn’t a smoker?
He still hadn’t said anything.
The horse snorted, lifting his head to look at the barn, his ears pricked. He’d moved down the hill a ways, but not far enough for her to worry.
She looked back at Gabriel. “A lighter?” she said again, bewildered. Intuitively, she knew that the time for easy answers had come and gone. It’s my brother’s, or I found it in the woods.
Maybe something like, It’s dead, but it used to belong to my father.
Gabriel sighed and pushed the hair back from his face. “That,”
he said, “is part of my secret.”
The horse snorted again, pawing at the grass. He was probably ready to spook at nothing.
Layne sighed and rolled to her feet, zipping up her jacket as she moved. She caught the horse’s lead rope and kept her voice even, trying to figure out the mystery before Gabriel laid it on the line. But she had no idea. “Your secret has to do with a lighter?”
He reached out to take it from her hand. “No. My secret has to do with fire.”
And at that precise moment, the roof of the barn burst into flame.
CHAPTER 31
Gabriel stared at the flames shooting through the barn roof, blazing flares of orange and red. Smoke poured into the sky. There was plenty of fuel here hay and wood and probably dozens of things he couldn’t even imagine. This fire didn’t rage it celebrated. The entire building would be consumed in minutes.
Something was banging inside the barn. He heard screams, inhuman cries that made him want to clamp his hands over his ears.
Horses.
He could feel his heart in his throat. He’d been pulling power from the sunlight, his emotions riding high.
Had he done this?
This made his mistake in the woods look like a campfire.
Layne was all action, shoving at his chest. Her horse was dancing at the end of his rope, but Layne held fast. She was yelling, her voice hoarse.
He realized she’d been yelling at him for some time.
“Take him, damn it! Get him in the field!” She punched him in the chest again, shoving the rope at him.
