Sand Angel Page 0,11
as her body began to shake uncontrollably.
Shame twisted his gut. She hated him and he almost took her against her will. The knowledge was something he couldn’t bear. His hand slipped from between her legs. He released her wrists. Lightly, he skimmed his fingers across her cheek before he pressed his lips softly to hers. Kissing her for what might be the last time.
He rolled off her and got to his feet. She didn’t move or open her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Zoë. I never meant to hurt you.”
The door closed quietly as Zoë heard Drew leave. She lay on the cold linoleum floor of the toy hauler, her body racked with tremors, her eyes moist with tears. She didn’t have the strength to fight his unwanted advances.
Liar.
That was the crux of this terrible mess. She did want his advances. His lips on her breast had been heavenly. With each suckle, the threads of arousal tugged at her pussy. His mouth warm and wet, his cock pressed to her thigh made her hungry for more. When he parted her legs, drove his knee against her tender flesh, her thighs opened wider on their own accord. But when he’d touched her, discovered her wetness, her need for him, she had died a thousand deaths.
Humiliated. She couldn’t help the burst of emotion. The need simmering through her body was an uncontrollable wildfire. Hot, liquid fire surged through her veins. Shamelessly, she had released another wave of desire into his palm. Her body did everything but scream, “Fuck me”, though it had lingered on the tip of her tongue, aching for release.
Slowly, she rolled to her side, drew her knees to her chest and hugged herself. For years she had run from Drew’s memory. A strangled sob broke from her throat, but felt like it came from her heart.
Her skin felt too tight. The pressure inside her body heavier than it ever had been. The pain ripping through her chest hurt.
She wanted it to stop.
Needed it to stop.
Desperately, she drew herself into a tighter ball.
The sad truth was, she could never run fast or far enough to get away from Drew’s memory. When he left her, Zoë had pulled some stupid stunts, partying and drinking, until she discovered she had a natural talent to ride. Riding gave her a purpose, a goal in life—to be the best. It had saved her from destroying herself. Yet somewhere something went wrong.
The first year she competed, her daredevil attitude won her awards and status at her company. She had been unique—a novelty. Yet as she began to compete against the men, she heard their grumblings. They said she was taking more chances—dangerous choices.
When other women wouldn’t try a jump or stunt, she would. Dave, her boss, said she was heading down a destructive path, becoming more of a liability than an asset. Some of the people she worked with called her an adrenaline junkie. What the hell did they know? Funny thing was they didn’t say the same thing about the men who followed her. Yet she understood why they did what they did. The rush was a high, better than any drug. She craved it. The silky epinephrine was hers anytime she wanted it.
Slowly, she uncurled her body and pushed herself to her feet. Shaky legs held her upright. She went to the cupboard, took out a shot glass and the bottle of tequila next to it and poured. Without a second thought she downed one shot of courage. It burned so good.
Carrying the bottle and glass, Zoë drifted toward a chair and slowly sat down before the kitchen table. With a critical eye she took in her surroundings before setting the bottle and glass down. As a young girl she had dreamed of a ranch, a horse and a family—little girl’s dreams. She released the air in her lungs.
Josh had brought Drew home the summer she turned sixteen. A weak smile touched her lips. Smitten was too mild a word. He had turned her world upside down and inside out. She did everything to get his attention, even kissed him. Her eyelashes brushed against her cheekbones, remembering that night.
Zoë had always been sure of herself, knew what she wanted, and she wanted Drew.
“You’re too young, baby.” His eyes had glowed with a fire that heated her blood. At the end of summer he had left on an assignment, returning three years later to stoke the flame that still smoldered inside her.
A tremor raced up her spine,