His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “You listen hard and you listen good, sweetness,” he said, the words firm but the tone urgent, almost desperate, and laced with his southern accent. “I’m not perfect, and God knows I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. But I would never play with a woman’s emotions to get information out of her. That kind of manipulation doesn’t hold with me. Ever.”

Sweetness. She’d heard everything he’d said. The passion with which he’d said it. The sincerity that burned from his gaze as the words had poured from his lips. But it was the term of endearment that reached into her chest and gripped her heart. For a long moment, they stood there, bodies touching, faces inches apart, his hands holding her in that firm-but-gentle way he had.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and her heart was a drum beat double-timing inside her chest. If his hands didn’t feel it racing, he’d have to hear it, because the sound was a loud rush rush in her ears. Beneath the sports bra and tank, her nipples went hard. If his gaze dropped, she knew he’d see, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel self-conscious about it. Not when he was looking at her like he wanted to devour her.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

She shuddered, everything inside her but the smallest voice of reason crying out for him to do it. Just once.

“Tell me not to,” he said, his voice a raw scrape.

“I CAN’T,” SHE whispered in a shaky voice. “I don’t want to.”

Shane’s body took over then, all urgent need and basic instinct. The rest of the world be damned. He pulled her in and kissed her, his lips devouring, his tongue exploring deep. Nothing held back. Nothing denied.

Not even as her lips reawakened the sting from the cut on his lip. Totally worth it.

Crystal’s arms came up around him. She trembled against him, and Shane wasn’t sure if it was caused by adrenaline or fear. Unable to tolerate the thought that she might feel forced, he eased off.

She moaned and held him tighter, like his retreat had made something snap within her. Their kisses deepened, and her body moved against his, sinuously, maddeningly, desperately.

They tasted one another again and again, giving in to the heat that had sparked between them from the moment Crystal had collided with him at Confessions. Little nips and bites of lips and teeth warred with long, sensual strokes of tongue that stole his breath and made him instantly hard. The sting in his lip, the throb of his GSW, the aches from Nick’s asskicking, every bit of it faded away—no, her touch made it all go away.

The few times they’d spoken, Crystal had most often been guarded, tentative, fearful. Just as she’d been when he first kissed her. But, now, she was revealing a passionate woman who could be fearless, giving and receiving openly and without hesitation. Christ, the thought that this fierceness was the real Crystal slayed him because it meant she was burying and denying her true self, not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

No, because someone forced her to.

The thought reminded him of the bruises on her arm. Shane had known this woman for three days, and twice in that time she’d been hurt by another man. And both as a consequence for things Shane had done.

A crack of thunder echoed from the heavens, making Crystal jump and gasp into his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped around a kiss.

Part of him wanted to say more, to tell her he had her and he’d keep her safe. But he couldn’t make himself give up her heat, her sweetness, her obvious hunger—for him. So he made her a silent promise instead.

Never again, Crystal. He’ll never hurt you again. Not on my watch.

Because Shane McCallan had made a mistake like that once. And, as bad as Molly’s disappearance had been, something’s happening to Crystal would actually be worse because Shane knew it was coming. The one break he’d ever given himself over Molly was that he’d had no way to know she’d be abducted. Didn’t excuse the role he played in allowing it to happen, but he couldn’t have known. But with Crystal, while he might not know when or how this Bruno asshole would strike out to do the ultimate damage, it was all but a done deal at this point. Always was with guys like him. And Shane would go to the grave before he let it happen, before he failed another female for whom he cared.

Because he did care. Made no damn sense given how long he’d known her. And the timing was beyond piss-poor. But there it was all the same.

A red-hot need to protect Crystal, to defend her, to avenge her roared through his blood. It made him need to be closer, go deeper. One hand guiding her head, the silk of her bound hair sliding over his fingers, his other arm slid lower, wrapping around her back. He crushed her to him as their lips sucked and pulled over and over.

Crystal moaned, a needful, pleasured sound he wanted to hear again and again. She grasped at his shoulders, his neck, his hair, pulling and fisting it in a way that made him wild.

The breeze kicked up around them, and rain fell in gentle, random drops. Then a little harder, ’til the woods came alive with the sound of the falling water tapping on leaves and branches.

“It’s raining,” Shane forced himself to say. Not that he cared. He’d spent most of a decade living at the extremes. A little rain wouldn’t faze him, particularly with a beautiful woman kissing him hot and stupid.

She smiled against his lips. “Is it?”

“God, Crystal,” he groaned, kissing her jaw, her ear, her neck. When she reclined her head, Shane yearned to comb his fingers through her long hair. Nuzzling her throat, he tugged the stretchy band free and reveled in the sprawl of those soft, red locks across his skin. He burrowed his hands in the thick curls as he brought his lips back to hers.

Thunder exploded overhead, and rain fell in a sudden, cool sheet.

Crystal gasped, her green eyes bright as she looked up at him, droplets hanging on her lashes and rolling down her beautiful face. Shane wanted to catch every one with his tongue.

As the rain soaked into their hair and clothes, Crystal appeared momentarily stunned and uncertain. And then a grin crept across her face until she could no longer hold back her full smile.

And it was like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, bright and warm and peaceful.

If he’d thought her beautiful before, smiling made her absolutely radiant.

Getting a grip on himself, Shane tugged off the jacket he’d worn earlier to conceal his weapon. “Here,” he said.

“Keep it,” Crystal said, smiling. “I don’t mind.” She tilted her face to the sky and closed her eyes.

Shane couldn’t do anything but stare. Rain cascaded in a stream over her face and down her neck to her chest, revealing every feminine curve she had hidden behind the cotton and spandex she wore. He imagined seeing her like this, but in a shower, warm water sluicing down over perfect, naked skin.

Blood pounded into his erection until it was a delicious torture bordering on pain.

But so, so worth it.

The moment felt so special, so stolen, so secret . . . Damnit all to hell, Shane wanted to know her name. Her real name. But asking would probably send her scurrying for cover. Not worth it. No matter how badly he wanted to know it. How badly he wanted to know her.

For a long moment, Shane watched a trickle of rain run down her throat until he could think of nothing other than the taste of it from her skin. Sliding his hands over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts, Shane licked and kissed and nibbled up the long column of her throat.

The moan she unleashed wrapped around his cock. As his lips crested her chin and captured her mouth again, his hands claimed the warm mounds of her breasts.

Crystal sucked in a breath, her green eyes flying wide. “We can’t do this,” she said, jerking back. Breathing hard, she looked over her shoulder, like maybe they could be seen through the quarter mile of forest. “I have to get back,” she said.

Too fast, McCallan. Way to go. “I’m sorry—”

“Tomorrow night, nine p.m., at the marine terminal,” she rushed out like he hadn’t said anything. “That’s what he said about the meeting. I think that’s down in Dundalk on the water.”

“Where at the terminal, Crystal? Do you know? It’s a big place,” he said, pretty sure he knew the answer already.

She shook her head, her movements almost frantic. “That’s all I know. I hope it helps.”

Damnit, he was losing her. “Crystal—”

She shrugged, eyes landing everywhere but on his. “So . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she turned away.

“Wait,” Shane called. Her walk became hurried. “Crystal, wait.”

She turned. “Give me a head start before you leave.” Her face filled with a panicked pleading. “Please,” she called over the falling rain. And then she took off.

“Fuck,” Shane bit out, his gaze glued to her tight little body and dark red hair until the rain and the trees and the path finally obscured her once and for all. With a growl, he threw his jacket against a tree.

Which was, of course, totally fucking ineffectual as a way of resolving the giant pile of pissed off parked on his chest. At himself.

“Goddamnit,” he grumbled as he hauled the coat off the ground.

Christ, McCallan, you could mess up a wet dream.

He stared up at the sky and let the rain beat on his face. Shane knew why he’d blown it so bad. He’d been thinking with the wrong damn head. And not a little with his heart, too. He damn well knew better.