Page 52 of The Claiming Series: Collection 1
I shiver at the light touch, and goosebumps erupt all over my body, tightening my nipples into stiff peaks.
Holy crap, I’m so out of my league here.
The light turns green, and Drayton drags his eyesback to the road, guiding the cruiser toward the outskirts of town.
“Dad mentioned your mom is sick. What’s wrong with her?”
I bite my lip, wondering how best to answer that question. Drayton may not be the asshole I first thought him, but he’s still the sheriff. Probably not the best idea to tell him that my mom is a raging alcoholic. “She’s, uh, she has a few mental health issues.”
“Is she responsible for the marks on your wrist?” he asks bluntly.
I close my eyes, knowing he’s uncovered my secret. Like I thought, he doesn’t miss a thing. “She doesn’t mean it. She gets aggravated when I won’t let her have a—when I don’t let her have something she wants,” I quickly correct.
“You shouldn’t be dealing with that on your own, Daisy. There’s help out there for people like her. And for people like you, the ones doing the caring.”
“I know. I’ve tried,” I say softly, feeling the guilt and helplessness that always accompanies thoughtsof my mom.
“Is she the reason you came back?” he asks gently.
I nod, clenching my hands together in my lap. “Dad left when I was sixteen. He was having an affair with another woman. He left and never looked back. I was angry and hurt, but it destroyed Mom. There was a succession of men after he left. Mom used them to bury the pain of my father’s desertion, I think. The day one of her boyfriends tried to touch me up, I told Mom either he left or I would. Two days later, I moved to Houston. I’d been saving the money from a part-time job all through college and had enough for a hostel until I found a full-time position.”
“Fuck,” Drayton growls, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. “She chose that asshole over you?”
I nod sadly. “I had little to no contact with her for almost three years until she called me out of the blue a few months ago. She was desperate, penniless, and about to be homeless.”
“So, you came back,” Drayton says softly.
“More out of a sense of obligation than anything else. I love my mom, but I don’t like her very much. I know that sounds awful, but I can’t forget that she chose a man she barely knew over me. But I’d neverforgive myself if I didn’t at least try to help her. When I got here, I found her practically living in squalor—no heating, no food in the cupboards, garbage strewn everywhere. She hadn’t bathed for weeks. Her hair was a matted mess, and she’d aged twenty years. It’s taken me weeks to get the house cleaned up. I paid the overdue bills to get the services switched back on, and I’ve been trying to make ends meet ever since. I’ve kept a low profile since I came back. I didn’t want to draw attention to our situation. Despite my misgivings, I don’t want my mother and her issues to be the talking point of the town. But then the money ran out, and I needed a job, which is where Danny came in. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise. Jobs aren’t exactly thick on the ground here.”
Drayton is silent as I finish my story, and I mistake his stern expression for disgust.
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry. I don’t usually vomit a huge pile of overshare in stranger’s laps,” I sigh, embarrassed.
“We’re not strangers, Daisy,” Drayton replies, shaking his head. “And don’t ever apologize for letting your defenses down with me. You’re going to be doing a lot more of it if I have my way.”
“If you have your way?” I whisper, wonderingif ‘his way’ involves him and me rolling around naked in a huge king-size bed.
Drayton doesn’t answer, but a smile pulls at his mouth, making his beard twitch. And that makes me wonder what it would feel like against my skin if he kissed me.
“Looks like my address was in your database, at least,” I say with a smile as he pulls up outside the rambling two-story house. It’s seen better days, with its tired exterior and flaking paint, but it’s a roof over our heads.
He shrugs, cutting the engine and turning to face me. “Pa told me where you live.”
“Oh. Of course, he did,” I reply, feeling stupid.
Drayton’s gaze falls to my mouth as my tongue darts out to wet my suddenly dry lips. His proximity is doing all kinds of crazy things to my rebellious body. It’s unnerving. And exciting.
Drayton leans forward, sliding a hand through my hair and dislodging my woolly hat. “I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts, and that’s on me, but there’s something about you, Daisy Jenkins. The second I saw you, I knew you were going to be mine. I’ve wanted a taste of these lips all day,” he says, pressing his thumb against my bottom lip.
My eyes widen at his confession. I couldn’t be more surprised if he told me he liked to rollerblade in a pink tutu. I open my mouth to reply, but Drayton swoops in, claiming my mouth with his—and I’m lost. Lost in the heat and fire of a kiss from a man I only met today, a man my body seems to recognize on some inexplicable level that defies logic and reason.
Drayton’s other hand cups my face, angling me where he wants me. He licks across the seam of my mouth, and I open up to him with a moan. I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It’s like he’s claiming me, branding me, and marking me as his.
I bunch his shirt in my hands, my heart pounding out of control as he nips my lower lip between his teeth. His beard is a delicious abrasion against my skin, answering my earlier question in the most delicious way.
I try to get closer to him, needing the warmth and strength of his body in a way I’ve never experienced before. When I thrust my tongue against his, Drayton releases a groan. His hands move to my back, pressing me against his chest, and my nipples pebble with desire.
“Dear God, Daisy,” Drayton mutters, tearing his mouth away and pressing his foreheadagainst mine. “Never had a kiss like that. Not in my whole life.”
