Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (19 page)

Because she knew where this particular journey ended. They both did. The sweet waterfall between her thighs was already overflowing with her juices and Shane breathed her in before parting her lips with his tongue and drinking deeply. Dusty moaned, hips rocking up to meet him, hands reaching, finding his, their fingers threading together as she rocked against his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lapping between her swollen, pulsing labia, finding the hot, aching button of her clit, made her flush with pleasure. Her toes curled, her eyes rolled back, her fingers closed on his as they rode the crest of her wave, higher and higher.

“Oh!” she cried, twisting, turning, trying to escape the sensation, a pleasure almost pain, almost afraid of the upcoming precipice, her tumble into nothing, into everything. What would it mean, if she let him do this, touch her, make her, give her this? What would it mean if she took it, if she wanted it?

And then all thought was gone, and she didn’t care anymore. Except that wasn’t true. She cared more than she ever had, about anything, anyone. Dusty called his name, spreading her thighs and thrusting up without any thought at all except that she was dying, could die now, it didn’t matter, there was nothing better than this rolling thunder rumbling through her belly, quivering through her sex, wetting Shane’s chin and jaw with her over ripe juices as she came in his mouth.

“Shane,” she whimpered, running a hand through her damp, dark hair—her body felt sheened with sweat and wetness.

“Hold still,” he urged, and she thought she might faint at the sight of him standing at the edge of the bed, wiping her wetness off his mouth with the back of one hand and tugging his jeans off with the other.

But she couldn’t hold still. She reached for him, wiggling on the bed like a puppy or a kitten, and part of her felt like an animal. He brought out something in her with urges so strong and basic and raw they were unstoppable. Then he was on her, both of them naked now, and she reached for him, grabbing hold briefly, hearing him moan at her touch.

But he didn’t let her have her way long.

“Hold still,” he whispered again, this time into her ear as he eased his way into her wetness, past any resistance she might have been holding onto—but in truth, there wasn’t any left. She was his. And she loved the way he looked down at her, holding himself up so he could see, like she was the most beautiful butterfly specimen he’d ever seen and he’d managed to catch her and pin her, just like this, to the mattress.

“I’m here.” She swallowed and looked up at him in the fading light from the setting sun, his eyes on fire. “Shane, I’m here.”

He groaned, shaking his head, but she cupped his face in her hands, bringing him down to her, pinning herself underneath his weight, whispering her words over and over against his lips.

“I’m here, I’m here…”

Finally, he believed her. She saw him give in, felt it between her thighs, the rising throb of his cock, swelling at her words. She was here, he was here, they were. They were.

Then Shane called her name as he began to move inside her, the steady, driving thrust of him making her feel more alive than she ever had. She clung to him, feeling that delicious fullness in her belly, the rolling tickle, like the breath of a breeze blowing through sweetgrass at first. And then it got stronger. And stronger. She rode the feeling like a wave, burying her face in Shane’s shoulder, licking him, tasting the salt of his sweat.

“Here,” she urged, clamping her thighs around him, her sex clutching at him too. “Right here.”

He pulled back just slightly to meet her eyes. They were just shadows to each other now, moving in the dimness. But she saw everything clearly. Everything she needed, everything she’d ever wanted, was in his eyes at that moment. He kissed her once, hard, then soft, then pulled back again to see her eyes, her face, holding himself there, right there.

“I never thought you wanted…”

“Shh.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I do. I want you. Here. Right here. Now.”

He let out a low growl, an animal sound, something she felt more than heard, deep in her pelvis, where he was buried in her flesh. And then he was pressing deeper, not thrusting anymore but rutting, trying to get as far into her as he could, as if he could truly bury himself, become part of her.

“Dusty!” he cried, face hot against her neck, teeth raking her shoulder, and she cried out as he came in one swift movement, driving her into the bed. She slid her hands down the hard, ropey muscles in his arms as he gave one last, tremendous thrust, arching his back and holding himself above her. She gasped, clutching him blindly, hearing his ragged breath in her ear. He whispered her name, moving roughly against her once more, his body shuddering under her hands, and then he was still.

She held him there when he went to move, feeling him against her, slippery with sweat. She stroked his dampened hair, her eyes closed, and she tasted tears in the back of h
er throat.

I love him.
The realization overwhelmed her like a sunrise, leaving her breathless, speechless, feeling his heart beating in rhythm against her own.

I love him
.

She cried silently.

✝
Chapter Sixtee
n
✝

She felt almost shy with him through
dinner—smoked salmon instead of venison, with roasted morels and wild leeks. He served the blueberry compote over some sort of delectable cornbread shortcake for dessert that was almost—but not quite—better than sex. She watched him cook and serve and eat and wondered, the whole time, how the Shane she thought she knew wasn’t anything like the man sitting across the table from her. Had she been so blind? Or had she only seen what she wanted to see?

Or what Nick wanted you to see.

She still couldn’t understand her brother’s feelings about her, about Shane, why he’d tried so hard for so long to keep them apart. It had happened, she realized now, so gradually over time, that she eventually believed it was her own idea. Like some sort of reverse psychology trick, her brother had used Dusty’s jealousy—because of course she didn’t like Shane taking Nick away from her—to make Dusty believe her rejection of Shane was of her own volition, all
her
idea.

Except it wasn’t true. Had never been true.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Shane nudged her under the table with his denim clad knee. He was wearing jeans again, and had put on an apron to cook—a sight she thought might buckle her knees, because he was completely shirtless underneath. And he looked damned good walking around without a shirt.

She had gone the opposite route, putting on his t-shirt—it came down to mid-thigh—but not putting on her jeans. Or her panties. She’d teased him several times during the dinner preparation, rather mercilessly, but always insisting he continue to cook, because she was hungry. Which was true—she had been starving. She ate everything on her plate and what was left on his. Then she ate her whole dessert and another half of a crumbled shortcake with the rest of the blueberry compote, scraping the jar with a spoon.

“Oh you’d need more than that,” she warned him, licking the back of her spoon, where she’d found a stray blueberry hiding.

“A buck? Two bucks?” He smiled, taking a swig of his beer. “Are we adjusting for inflation?”

“I was thinking about the wolf.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.

“What about it?” He pursed his lips, putting the beer on the table.

“The sheriff called.” Well, it wasn’t the sheriff exactly. It was Deputy Matt. He’d wanted her to know, because she’d been so adamant about asking. “The wolf wasn’t rabid.”

Shane’s eyebrows went up. “That so?”

“Had some sort of virus though,” she assured him. “He said they hadn’t identified it yet.”

“So it was sick.” He nodded. “It’s the only way to explain an attack like that. Unprovoked. Such a gorgeous animal. I hated to kill it.”

“Well, I’m kind of glad you did,” she countered.

He laughed. “I’m glad you’re not dead, if that’s what you mean. But what the DNR won’t tell you—and I know because I spend a lot of time out here in the woods—it’s happening more and more. Animals getting sick. Nothing wrong with them—just, dead. Most of the animals are wild, but there was one report. There’s a farm, just past Wanda road, right on the edge of state land there.”

“Yeah, I know it.” She looked longingly into the empty mason jar. No more blueberry compote.

“Well.” Shane tipped his beer back, taking another long swig. “His cows died.”

She blinked at him. “They died?”

“All of them,” he said. “All at once. Within an hour of each other. In the same field. Just… dropped dead.”

“Weird.” She wrinkled her nose at him. What in the world was going on?

“And then there are the ones who get sick—like the wolf.”

“You’ve seen it before?”

“Well, I honestly figured the wolf was probably rabid, coming after you like that.” His eyes darkened at the memory and Dusty shivered. She really had been
that close
to death. “But yeah… lately, I’ve seen some things.”

“Like what?”

“Some small animals—a few raccoons, a squirrel, a rabbit. Like the wolf. Sick, mad. They stagger and run into things, lash out. But it’s the big ones that really turn mean though. The little ones seem to die before it takes hold. The bigger the animal, the more it seems to mess with their system, throw things out of whack. I saw a bear with it a few months ago. It acts like rabies, but clearly, from the lab reports, that’s not what we’re dealing with.”

Dusty sat up, spine straightening with a little shudder. “So wait a minute—whatever killed Nick, this cougar or whatever—could it have been sick?”

“I don’t know.” Shane finished his beer, not meeting her eyes.

“But what’s causing it?” she wondered aloud. And why wasn’t anyone talking about it? Did the sheriff know? Why weren’t they working with the DNR to investigate? She couldn’t imagine the Department of Natural Resources wouldn’t be interested in animal attacks, especially if there was some unknown virus making them sick. “Why are they getting sick?”

“I don’t know.” Shane got up, taking his dessert plate and hers to the sink.

“You said lately…” She got up too, following him. “What do you mean, lately?”

“Since that whole fracking thing started.” He sighed, starting to wash the dishes. Watching him do something so basic and domestic made Dusty’s heart melt for some reason. Shane Curtis doing dishes? Who would have thought? “They’re supposed to be shut down. There’s an injunction, so they’re supposed to be waiting on some court case or law to be passed. But I know for a fact they’re not waiting. And they want this place so bad they can taste it.”

“This place?” Dusty grabbed a clean cloth and started drying.

“I’m right in the middle of it all. The only piece of land the state doesn’t own out here.” Shane handed her a plate. “Right in their way.”

“What about your drinking water?” Dusty asked, putting the dishes he handed her into the rack next to the sink. They fell into an easy rhythm.

“I’ve got reverse osmosis on the well.” He handed her a batch of clean silverware. “It should be safe. The animals… well, they aren’t so lucky. And the companies—Halcion and the rest of them, they’ve made it impossible for people to find out what’s leaking into the water. They’ve got noncompete clauses and nondisclosure agreements protecting the ‘secret chemicals’ they’re using to get down deep enough to crack the rock and release the gas they’re after.”

She frowned, drying spoons and forks and knives, putting them in the slot on the rack. She hadn’t understood why in the world a drug company like Pharmatech would merge with an oil company like Halcion, but it was starting to make more sense. Pharmatech was, if nothing else, a supplier of chemicals, all sorts of them. And the factory being built in Millsberg could certainly produce a whole lot of them.

Shane turned off the water, drying his hands on a towel.

“If I tell you something…” she started, looking at him, thoughtful. “Will you answer one question for me?”

“Quid pro quo?” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, leaning back against the kitchen sink with a smile. Seeing him like that, barefoot, shirtless, his jeans low on his hips, made her remember him with her upstairs, the feeling coming in a flood of warmth, flushing her cheeks.

“Something like that.”

“I don’t play those games.” Shane shook his head, heading back to the table to collect their empty beer bottles.

Dusty sighed. “I overheard my father and Guy Walker at his office. They were talking about the fracking project. My dad said his company, Pharmatech, and that oil company, Halcion or whatever it’s called, the one who wants to do the fracking on state land—he said they were merging.”

“So?” Shane opened a cupboard, putting the beer bottles in a bin inside.

“Well, Guy Walker also wanted my father to do something about the election—he’s running for sheriff.”

“Something? As in, what? Buying it?” Shane snorted. “He’s only running so he can get the DNR in his back pocket. The town council barely passed the fracking thing and that’s only because their deciding vote ended up missing.”

“Missing?” Dusty couldn’t help but remember her father’s words.
Dead body out there somewhere.
“Who?”

“That kid’s dad—the one Lee Walker hired,” Shane said, pulling out a kitchen chair and turning it around so he could straddle it. “The one who pushes a mop around the Starlite. The one you had dinner with.”

“Sam?” She blinked at him, incredulous. “Sam’s dad?”

“Yeah.” He held his hand out to her and she went toward him, drawn not only by his gesture but also by the soft look in his eyes and the sexy way he straddled the kitchen chair. She hadn’t understood the conversation between her father and Guy Walker at the time, although when the cougar had been caught, she knew it had been a set up, all part of a plan to get the councilman elected sheriff. That animal wasn’t likely the one that had killed her brother.

“Do you think a person could get sick, like that?” Dusty took his hand, twining her fingers with his.

He hesitated, looking at their hands locked together. “I don’t know.”

“Shane, do you know what killed Nick?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. He was clean shaven today, no stubble under her fingers. But he still had that hollow, haunted look about him, like he was being chased.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he shook his head, still looking down at her hand in his. He didn’t say anything, just ran his thumb over her knuckles, slowly shaking his head, and she knew then he would never tell her. He knew—something. She didn’t know what, but he was keeping a secret from her, maybe the very secret that she wanted—
needed
—to know, but he would never tell her. Not like this.

Then he confirmed her suspicion, finally meeting her eyes, that same pained, lost look in them, along with a desperate pleading.
Don’t ask me, please don’t ask me.
That’s what his eyes said.

“Dusty, no,” he croaked. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath. “Not here. Not now.”

He wouldn’t tell her. It was that simple. Her brother’s death had been like a sudden stab in the gut, but this? Shane’s denial, his refusal, brought her instantly back to the moment they stepped off the platform at the pond and he chose Nick over her. It reminded her of every time Nick had gone off with Shane and left her behind. It reminded her that Shane had always belonged to Nick, and that’s what hurt.

It was the first time she realized what, exactly, that pain was really about. Not that she had missed out on all that time with Nick, her twin—although she had loved him more than her own life—but she missed out on time she could have spent building a relationship with Shane.

That was the pain she had been hiding. That was the pain she had denied, buried. It was a secret she had kept, even from herself, until this moment.

And she knew, then, it wasn’t Shane who had rejected her, or who had chosen Nick. It was Nick who had kept them apart—whatever his reasons. They were buried with him now. But the man in front of her, eyes locked with hers, he had always wanted her. From the very beginning.

Dusty came around his chair, sliding one long leg over him, straddling him as he straddled the chair. His eyes lit up, a smile curving the corners of his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her waist, looking up through the curtain of her hair.

“Well then, Shane Curtis,” she murmured, touching her finger to his lower lip, remembering his mouth on her, his hands, a heat spreading through her body like wildfire. “What would you rather talk about?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.”

And that’s what they did.

They went upstairs and didn’t talk.

For hours.

Snow fell, the first snow of the year, blanketing the woods in white.

Dusty sat on the window ledge, watching the just-waning moon shimmer on the water. Her brother’s gun sat next to her on the ledge, glinting dully in the moonlight. Her purse, its temporary carrying case, sat next to her on the floor. But Shane’s gun was in there. She’d made sure to put it there while he was sleeping.

She looked back at Shane.
He snores
, she thought with a small smile. He clasped the pillow beneath his head, covers kicked off, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs. Dusty, looking at him and then at the gun, felt her stomach tighten. It was coming full circle now.