Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 80

"You outdid yourself tonight," Patton says after a moment, leaning his head against the wall. I pull the blanket up to cover my bare shoulders. "I know it's not easy mingling with that crowd of show-offs and blowhards."

I smile. "It wasn't so bad once I got the hang of it. You helped a ton." "Helped you find your confidence? I hope so. I remember the first time I came to one of these things with Dex, years ago…" He rubs a hand across his face. "I felt like a minnow in a roaring ocean."

"And now all the big fish salute you and want a piece of your business." "Our business," he corrects sharply. "I might be alone, but I'm representing my brothers, too." "Didn't they want to come?"

"Dexter's too busy with married life these days, and Archer just hates this shit. Socializing, I mean. If it wasn't for Colt, I think he'd find the last cave in Kansas City and crawl into it forever."

I laugh at the ridiculous image.

I haven't seen much of Archer. Although he's pretty reserved, there wasn't anything obviously anti-social about him.

"So you're the social butterfly?" I nudge him in the side. "Or are you the bootlicker?"

He hesitates before he speaks.

"The sacrificial lamb. That's more accurate." His chuckle fades into the night. There's just the empty desert ahead and bright pinpricks of starlight beaming down.

Somehow, the silence accented by this landscape doesn't feel so suffocating now.

"I meant it, you know. What I said about you back there," he says quietly.

I don't know what to say. But I am feeling things.

It meant a lot.

And where would I be without Patton Rory? God, without the man who gave me my son?

New guilt rushes up like a man-eating wolf and bites me hard.

The night sky swirls with secrets, everything I want to say that's tearing my heart to pieces.

Without knowing what I'm doing, I lean closer.

First, my arm brushes against his, and his skin feels too warm, too inviting. I can't help leaning in.

With a surprised look, he tucks me against his side.

We share the blanket with our legs almost touching. And it's the almost that makes me turn my face up, staring with questions mirrored in the starlit night.

Every place we touch burns. Every place we don't burns more. Holy hell, the places I want him…

I swallow hard, praying he doesn't notice.

I'm not sure where my inhibitions went, but when his lips find mine, they're totally abandoned.

His kiss comes hot and wild like summer heat stolen from the distant white sands.

Moans become hot gasps.

My legs part as his other hand roams my thigh, so deliciously greedy. "Fuck," he rasps, breaking the kiss.

His eyes snap to mine, all blue witchfire. There's no hesitation left in my brain.

None whatsoever as he hauls me up a second later and carries me inside.

I already know we're heading straight to the bed.

And I have exactly one panicked second before the déjà vu hits.

This feels so familiar as he lays me on the bed before him and eclipses me with his body.

Except this room is more luxurious, the bed larger, and I'm older and more certain and supposedly wiser.

Less drunk, at least.

I suck my bottom lip as his hands cover my breasts, picking up where he left off, teasing me with this rough pressure that leaves me shaking and soaked.

It's a struggle to hold my eyes open, and only then, so I can appreciate the rigid muscle of his torso as he leans back and pulls his shirt off.