CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

This way,” Ricky said as we tromped down the steps to the forest’s edge. “There’s something I want to show you. No, wait. We’ll do that later. First, there’s something over here.”

I bit back a laugh. He sounded like a boy showing off his special spots to a new friend. He shot a grin over, as if he knew that and didn’t care, wasn’t worried what I’d think. He grabbed my hand, fingers entwining with mine.

“I know the way,” he said. “Even in the dark. I used to come out here sometimes, at night. Just . . . those nights. Like tonight. When it seems as if . . .” He tugged me along into the woods. “I’d wake up, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d go out and spend the whole night out here, looking.”

“Looking for what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What did your dad think of that?”

“Sometimes he’d be up, too. I’d come out, and he’d be on the porch. He’d stay there, but I’d get the feeling he didn’t want to, you know? That he’d rather be out here, but . . . he made himself stay on the porch. He’d let me come out, though, which is one of the reasons I loved this place. He could be damned protective in the city. But here? It was like nothing here could hurt me. He’d still call out, now and then, and I had to shout back, but otherwise I had the run of the place. Even at three in the morning. City rules didn’t apply.”

Our first stop was a waterfall. A tiny one, the stream dropping over a boulder, but at night the moon caught it just right and the water sparkled. That wasn’t the only thing that sparkled, either. When I looked over at Ricky, crouched on the other side of the stream, his eyes danced, and gold flecks in his irises glittered in the moonlight, and I thought for a moment that I’d seen that before, the light catching his eyes a certain way. I didn’t pursue it; I just watched him.

He bent and waggled his fingers under the falling water.

“Cold?” I asked.

He flicked some my way. The droplets flew onto my bare skin.

“Mmm, yes,” I said. “Definitely cold.”

I scooped up a handful of icy water and splashed it on my face, letting it drip down my chest. That glint in Ricky’s eyes turned to a much more familiar one.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“Even dripping wet?”

“Especially dripping wet.”

I reached both hands into the waterfall and splashed water on my face and chest. It didn’t matter if it was ice-cold and the night wasn’t much warmer. It felt amazing, that burn and bite like wind on a motorcycle, my skin blazing hot beneath the droplets. When I looked at my hands, the moonlight made the water sparkle.

Ricky stared. Then he rose and started toward me. His sneaker clomped into the water as he stepped in the stream.

“Watch out,” I said. “You’ll get a soaker.”

“Don’t care.”

I backed up. “You should. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Old wives’ tale.”

“Are you sure?”

His other sneaker came down in the middle of the stream. “Don’t care if it’s not.”

I stepped back, and when I did, that glitter in his eyes grew brighter.

“You like that,” I said.

“Like what?”

I moved back more. His eyes glowed now, and his breath quickened.

“Mmm, yes,” I said. “You do.”

“Come here.”

“I don’t think you want me to.”

He moved forward. “Oh, yes, I do.”

“No . . . I think you’d rather work for it.”

“Work?”

“We’re out here to enjoy the night, aren’t we?”

A predatory edge in his smile set my pulse racing. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“And you will.” I moved into the forest. “After we take a walk.”

“Pretty sure I don’t want to walk anymore.”

“Then you’ll have to convince me you have something better in mind. But first . . .” I ducked around a tree. “You have to catch me.”

His grin then was nearly blinding as he lunged at me. I whipped around and tore into the forest.

—

The woods were too thick here for actual running, so it was more hide-and-seek, which would have worked so much better if Ricky hadn’t moved through the forest like a damned guerrilla sniper. After he nearly caught me a third time, I checked to make sure he hadn’t put on moccasins and night-vision goggles.

“How the hell can you see me?” I said as we circled a huge oak.

“You’re right there.”

“Hiding. Behind a tree.”

“Not very well.”

He lunged. I zipped around the tree.

“This game would be much more fun if you weren’t so freaking good at it,” I said as I stayed out of reach.

“Oh, I still think it’s plenty fun.”

He lunged again, and I took off, dodging trees and jumping logs. I looked for clearer ground, where I’d have an advantage. Ahead, moonlight streamed through a break in the tree cover. I ran for it. Then I glimpsed a shadow . . . in front of me. I stopped short. A flash of blond hair told me the shadow was Ricky before he disappeared behind a tree.

“How the hell do you do that?” I muttered.

He only chuckled.

“You have the home turf advantage,” I said, turning toward the source of that chuckle. “You know the shortcuts. I’m probably running in circles.”

“Maybe.” His voice came from behind me now and I wheeled, catching a flash of bare chest before he backed off, attack averted.

He went silent then. I pivoted slowly, trying to catch a crackle of dead leaves or snap of a twig. But all I heard was the sigh of the wind and rustle of leaves. I knew he was there, though, circling me, watching for an opening, and as soon as he had it, if I didn’t notice in time to escape . . .

Heat shot through me. Of course, the obvious answer would be to not escape. Let him catch me. Get what I wanted. But the point of the game was that building anticipation, which was damned sweet.

As I turned, searching, I swore I could sense him circling, catch the glitter of his eyes through the trees, hear his breathing, coming faster now, the slight catch of it as he . . .

I wheeled to see him right behind me, midpounce. He snagged my belt loop and yanked me back, his free hand going around my waist, blazing hot against my cold skin, raising goose bumps as he pulled me to him.

I broke free and danced away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through me, heat rising in its wake.

“Close,” he said.

“But not close enough.”

I ran. I headed straight for the clearing, hoping it would be bigger than it looked and give me time to run on open ground. I was dashing into it when Ricky called, “No! Don’t!”

I skidded to a stop. He ran up behind me, halting a few feet away.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just don’t . . . Don’t go in there, okay?”

I was about to tease that he was stacking the deck, keeping me from open ground, but genuine worry shone from his eyes.

I glanced into the clearing.

“Unfair advantage,” he said. “You’re faster than I am on open ground.”

Though he said it with a smile, there was a tightness in his voice. When I stepped toward the glade, he tensed, staying where he was but rocking on the balls of his feet, as if he wanted to grab me back. I peered in to see a circle of white mushrooms, glowing in the moonlight.

“That’s a fairy ring,” I said.

When I looked over at him, he flushed. “Um, yeah . . . Can we just . . . ? There’s something over here I wanted to show you.” He pointed in the other direction. When I looked back at the circle, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m superstitious. It’s my grandmother’s fault, and I know it’s stupid, but something gets in your head like that—”

“And it’s hard to shake, even if you know better.”

“Yep.” He walked over to me, his hands snaking around my waist. “She used to tell me stories about people getting trapped in fairy circles.”

“They walk into a party that never ends, and they can’t escape.”

“You know your folklore.”

“I do.”

His lips brushed mine. “So here’s the part where you get to mock me for being superstitious.”

I put my arms around him. “Never.”

“Just tease me about it, then.”

I kissed him. “Never.”

He returned the kiss, tentative at first, as if still worried he’d embarrassed himself, but when I didn’t pull back, that heat from earlier licked, reigniting. I could smell the faint smoke and fire and feel the damp darkness like fog, creeping up, cool and brisk, as the heat of his body blazed through me.

I pulled back and looked up at him, his eyes glittering again with those golden sparks, his blond hair falling forward, brushing my face, his breath smelling faintly of . . . forest. I know it was a trick of perception, but that’s what I smelled, all the rich scents of the forest, bathing my face in warm breath as he leaned in to kiss me again and—

I slid out of his grip and danced backward.

“You’re not going to get far now,” he warned.

“No?”

He stepped toward me. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I dodged. He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched away. When I started to run, he caught me, his hand on my elbow, fingers wrapping around my arm. He yanked me to him in a rough kiss, pulling me against him so tight I had no chance of slipping away.

“Give up?” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Mmm . . .” I gave a tentative wiggle.

A sexy, low chuckle. “Not a chance.”

I laced my hands behind his head, pulling him down in a kiss so hard and deep he gasped, relaxing against me, all his energy going into that kiss as his grip relaxed, too. I propelled myself backward, trying to break free. His arms only tightened.

“Nope,” he said, still kissing me.

I kissed him again, fingers entwined in his hair. Then I moved one hand lower, tickling down his side and squeezing between us to flick open the button on his jeans.

“That won’t work, either,” he said as his hands moved to my ass and he pushed me against a tree.

“Pinning me now?” I asked.

“Just getting prepared . . .” He hissed as my hand slid into his jeans, wrapping around him. “For that.”

“I thought you didn’t get distracted.”

“Mmm.”

I stroked him until his eyes slitted, those gold flecks glowing. I tightened my grip, and he swore under his breath. I leaned in to kiss him, his hands squeezing my ass as he pushed me against the tree and I stroked him.

“You might not . . . want to keep . . . doing that,” he panted between kisses. “That chasing . . .”

“Shortened your fuse?”

He managed a laugh, entwined with a groan. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. I know exactly how far—”

His breathing hitched.

“That far,” I said, and let go, throwing my weight to the side . . . and getting absolutely nowhere as his arm shot out to stop me. “Damn,” I said.

He chuckled, the sound ragged now, his eyes barely opening. “You really think I’m going to let you go now?” He pushed me against the tree, kissing me, lifting me up to straddle him.

“What if I dodged in that direction?” I said, nodding toward the fairy-circle clearing.

“Thought you weren’t going to tease me about it.”

“Not teasing. Using every trick at my disposal.”

“Ah. Well, that one”—he hitched me higher on his hips—“is not going to work now. Focus, remember? When I want something . . .” He turned, putting my back toward the clearing. “. . . nothing gets in my way.”

He kissed me and took three steps, bringing us into the clearing. Then he lowered me down, on my back, in the middle of it, and I felt the fairy circle being crushed under my back.

“That’s gotta be bad luck,” I said as he shoved my jeans down my hips.

“Yep. I’m trapped now.” He grabbed my hips. “And that’s fine by me.”

He pushed into me, so hard I reared up, gasping. He did, too, his eyes opening wide. I gripped the ground, the damp earth under my fingers, and caught a scent on the air. Horses. I smelled horses. My fingers dug into the ground and I could feel it vibrating, the shocks rippling through me as Ricky thrust.

Then he stopped suddenly. Arched there, his eyes wider now.

“Fuck, no,” he said. “No, no, no.”

He held himself still, face screwed up, fighting climax as he panted.

“Hold on,” he said. “Fuck. Sorry. Just hold on.”

The ground kept shaking, the smell of horses stronger now, and his eyes opened as if he’d caught a whiff. I took his hands and pressed them against the ground. “Do you feel that?”

He stretched out his hands, braced on them, eyes widening. “Fuck, yes.” He shivered, pushing deeper into me, hands pressed to the ground. “No, no, no,” he whispered. “Fuck, no. Not yet—”

I wriggled. His eyes snapped open.

“No, I’m okay. Don’t—”

“I want to see it.” I pressed his hand to the ground again, mine on his, the vibrations rocking through us, and I had no idea what I was talking about, but I said it again: “I want to see it.”

I pulled away from him, rolled over, and ran from the clearing.