Читать книгу Kisses Sweeter Than Wine - Heather Heyford - Страница 11

Chapter 6

Sam sped along at speeds that would have his ass in a sling if a statie happened to be lurking around a bend in the road. That is, if they could catch him.

Most men might associate the feel of a woman’s pillowy breasts pressing against his back, her arms wrapped securely around his core, and her firm inner thighs against his outer ones as a pleasant, even safe sensation. But what was innocuous to some was a threat to others.

It had taken months of riding these roads with Red for Sam to trust that that feeling wouldn’t suddenly turn on him. He was almost there. But after the demands she’d just laid down, instead of being comforted, her presence behind him made him feel like he was being chased.

His first tour of duty had turned him into an adrenaline junkie. He’d started to need bigger and bigger thrills to feed his habit.

He gave it more diesel, pushing the bike’s speed balls to the walls.

His second tour, while not as physically stressful, made up for it in head games. How had the white coats at the OMS put it in their discharge orders? “Captain Owens no longer trusts his own feelings.”

Didn’t take a shrink to see that. Sometimes he didn’t even know who he was anymore, let alone what his feelings were.

When he finally got back to the states, he’d found it hard to let go. He wasn’t a snake that could just shed his skin whenever the powers-that-be said it was time. Almost two years later, he still found himself ducking personal questions, constantly looking over his shoulder.

His siblings were long gone. So was his mother, raising another family that she valued more than him. His dad was no different from what he’d always been, a royal pain in the ass. At least now that Sam was grown he was no longer under his thumb. That made his occasional visits to check on him bearable.

He had a handful of close friends and tons of new acquaintances, thanks to the consortium.

But when it came to the one person he couldn’t live without…well, that person was Red. He needed her calm. Her logic. Despite growing up with a succession of shady characters in mobile home parks before her grandmother stepped in, she was remarkably balanced. Without her, he feared he’d go spinning out of control again.

But he couldn’t let her fall in love with him. If she insisted on forcing his hand, making demands…

He’d let her believe he would kowtow. Wasn’t manipulation his special talent? He was a highly trained professional, adept at setting up relationships—there was that word again—and influencing and controlling others, based on fabrications.