Rafe watched her still for the briefest second before turning to look out at the storm herself.
Her shoulders seemed to slump, as though whatever weight she carried was too much for her. He wished he could see her face, look in her eyes and read her thoughts as he had when she was younger. But hell, it seemed those days were gone. When she turned back to him, all he saw in her face, or in her eyes, was weariness — weariness and resignation.
That look made his chest ache. Son of a bitch, Cami should never have such a look in her eyes.
“Come on in; I’ll make coffee.” Hell, he might as well sober up. A man had to learn to keep his wits about him when dealing with a Flannigan. Especially this one.
“I can’t stay, Rafer.” Pure tempered steel filled her voice as well as her expression as she stared back to him, the quiet, even tone at odds with the conflict he could see in her eyes.
What the hell had happened to the sweet, loving Cami he had once known?
“Afraid temptation will get the best of you?” Letting his gaze drift over her, Rafe made damned certain she remembered everything he knew she wanted to forget.
She flushed. Her gray eyes darkened in both arousal as well as anger. Temptation was the least of her worries. It wasn’t the temptation that was going to get her back into his bed. It was the memories that would accomplish that. The memories of pleasure so hot, so intense it had sent her running in fear when she thought he had finally gone to sleep. Oh yeah, he had her now and there would be no escape. At least, not until someone managed to dig the snow out of his road.
His cock throbbed, pulsing in memory of the sweetest pleasure he had ever known, buried in the ultratight, fiery hot grip of her pussy. For a second, the remembered sound of her shattered cries, the feel of her going wild atop him, riding his dick until they both exploded in a release he swore marked something inside him. It was definitely a memory that tortured him with a hunger no other could slake. The memory of it had the power to keep him awake at night. And it made him ache.
Five years. For five years he had been tormented with that memory, unable to find that release with any other woman, and ache for the pleasure and the woman who caused it, until at times he swore even his back teeth hurt from the need.
“Stop, Rafer.” She shivered hard as the wind whipped around them and the memories heated them. “We agreed—”
“We didn’t agree to a damn thing; you fucking decided to pretend it didn’t happen without so much as consulting me. And I’ve had enough of the cold. I’m going inside.”
He turned and slammed inside the house, entering the warmth of the kitchen. Furious now, his drunk wearing off, Rafe stalked to the counter and the coffeemaker he prepped for morning.
Flipping the switch, he stood, waiting until the dark liquid began streaming into the pot. Behind him, the door opened, then closed again softly, bringing with it the sweet, clean scent of the blizzard and the woman he hadn’t been able to even try to forget.
He stared at the wall, anger churning along with the lust and creating a searing heat in his gut.
She still wore that familiar spicy scent he remembered. It tugged at a man’s memory making him think of summer, sex, and pleasure. The scent of her perfume became a little deeper, a little more evocative, and hot when she melted beneath him.
“What the hell are you doing out in a blizzard anyway?” he asked, keeping his back to her as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet over the coffeemaker.
“I was visiting my parents in Aspen.” There was no sense of reluctance or hesitation in her voice as there had been the last time she had spoken to him at that damned funeral. But it also wasn’t as husky and sexy as it had been the last time he’d had her. Or the first time.
His balls tightened in agony.
Son of a bitch, forgetting the pleasure he found in her was like trying to forget the sweetest paradise ever experienced after being thrown from it.
“And how are your parents?” It was a social nicety and one he had to force past his lips.
How she could stomach even acknowledging her parents, he had never been able to figure out. Neither her mother nor her father had been supportive of her. They hadn’t even pretended to care about her.
“I was there to help Dad settle Mother into a rest home. She never recovered from the stroke she had in the summer.” There was a poignant sadness in Cami’s voice. He couldn’t imagine it was because either parent had tried to make her feel accepted, let alone loved.
No, it had been her aunt and uncle who protected her after her sister had been killed, it had been her aunt and uncle, Ella and Eddy, who had celebrated all the successes and failures, both big and small, with her.
Rafe’s jaw clenched as he turned back to Cami, forcibly pushing those memories aside. “I’m sorry about your mother, Cami,” he said sincerely. For her and for her parents. They’d made her life hell and they both knew it. Cami’s compassion and the love she’d always felt for her parents had been apparent, though. It was a damn shame they hadn’t cared nearly as much for her as she had for them.
“Thank you for that, Rafer.” Cami nodded as she remained poised at the back door. “And thank you for meaning it.”
His lips thinned. He wasn’t going to broach the subject of her parents any further. To do so would only invite the destruction of the fragile truce he could feel settling between them. Though why one would be needed, he wasn’t quite certain. What the hell had he done to make Cami hate him? Or had she too simply given into the hatreds that rose from his past?
That past was a bitter, poisonous brew best left untasted, unremembered, and unvisited.
“I saw your father in town just after I returned home,” he told her.
He’d been back since early fall, and she hadn’t even called. Not that he had expected to hear from her. He’d never imagined she would call. But still, he’d watched his cell phone. He’d watched the driveway, and he’d watched for her in town. He hadn’t given up on her, even if he was certain she had never even considered attempting to find out what it was that lit such a spark between them and had them blazing out of control so quickly.
“I heard Logan and Crowe had returned as well.” There was an edge of worry in her voice now, and he wondered if she even realized it.
His cousins, Logan and Crowe Callahan, along with himself, were considered the scourge of Sweetrock, Colorado, and the citizens most likely to kill everyone else in their sleep, he thought sarcastically.
“They have,” he agreed. “Crowe went back to the cabin his mother left him in the mountains for a while and Logan has moved into the house in town. We finally managed to win the property that was left to us when our parents died. We’re fighting over everything else now.”
She bit at her lip as he turned from her and poured the coffee. Yeah, they were all home now. If everyone didn’t know it by now, then the good citizens of Sweetrock weren’t as diligent in their gossip as they used to be.
Turning back, he set the coffee in front of her and watched as Cami wrapped her fingers around the cup and stared into the contents.
“It’s not poisoned,” he promised as he sipped at his coffee to prove it was safe.
“I never imagined it was.” That frown edged between her brows again. “Stop reading something into everything I do and say. I never imagined for a minute you would hurt me Rafe. Since when did you begin believing something so asinine?”
“And you’re being too sensitive yourself,” he told her. “That wasn’t what I mean by it, Cami. I was being facetious.”
“You’re never facetious.” She shook her head in denial. “I take you at face value, because that’s how you are.”