Page 24 of Trails of Temptation

I walked back inside and down the hallway to the guestroom. I went into the guest bathroom across the hall and washed my face and brushed my teeth. I refused to shed another tear until I could cry into my pillow, and so far, I’d been successful.

But when I entered the hallway again, I heard the screen door in the kitchen click closed.

George had probably just left, either that or I hadn’t locked it. But I remembered locking it. I always checked the lock before leaving the kitchen. It was too damn hot to shut the back door completely, anyway.

“Goodnight, house,” I whispered absently as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob on my bedroom door. But then I felt movement nearby, then someone’s heavy footsteps coming toward me down the hallway. I looked up just in time to see George come into view. He didn’t hesitate. There was no pause in his step as he closed the distance between us and caged me against the door, his hands spread wide and resting on the doorframe as he hung his head.

My heart was racing. I was finding it hard to catch my breath.

“George—”

“You have a hold on me,” he rasped, his lips brushing over my ear. “I can’t shake you, Keely. I need to you to stop—”

“I don’t understand—”

He kissed me—hungrily, desperately, passionately. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes, opening my mouth in invitation. His tongue slid over my lower lip, then against my tongue, my teeth, and the roof of my mouth, drawing out a moan from my lips. His hands curled into fists against the doorframe, his teeth gently closing on my lower lip in a way that had my toes curling and knees going weak.

But then he pulled away, looking down at me with those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice void of emotion as he walked away.

ChapterTwelve

George

Her kiss was like a drug—on hit, and I was hooked. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to ever stop kissing her.

I was also highly aware of the fact that I was more drunk than I’d been in over a decade, at least. Maybe longer. Grant and I had had words upstairs in his office only a few minutes ago. I chalked it up to the fact I’d flayed my hand open like a fish and gotten twelve stitches, but only after working for hours with nothing but a bandage covering the wound. He seemed to accept that excuse but was still concerned I’d been drinking, and alone. The vet had lit into me about my injury earlier in the day and that fact I’d sat there nursing a bottle of tequila while he sewed me shut. I didn’t give a shit. And as much as I respected Grant, I didn’t give a shit about what he thought right now, either.

I’d gone to dinner because he told me to. I’d tortured myself by sitting two seats down from Keely knowing full well she was at a breaking point. Her despair had been written all over her face as was her disappointment that I was there, which hurt worse than the deep, searing pain in my hand. I deserved her hatred.

It didn’t stop me from wanting her.

It didn’t stop me from feeling like a fucking fool for having wanted nothing more than to pick her up and fling her over my shoulder and take her back to my house, to my bed, and keep her there.

I wanted a ring on her finger that screamed she was mine. I wanted to fill her up with kids and keep her that way. I wanted her things, her scent, and her presence all over my house.Ourhouse.

But Pete was in the way, and I wasn’t going to ask her to choose between us. I couldn’t. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than put her in the same position.

But that kiss…

I resisted the urge to slam my fists against the doorframe as I pulled away from her, panting. Her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks dusted with a deep, fiery blush.I love you. The words were on the tip of my tongue but I looked down at her, into those beautiful eyes so full of desire and longing, and told her I wassorry.

Fucking coward. That was what I was.

I staggered away from her and turned down the hallway. I left the house, hating myself even more than I did during dinner. It was probably the tequila talking, but I had a mind to call Pete right then and there and tell him I fucked his sister, and meant to keep her in my bed. I wanted to say, “To hell with it!” and tell him I was going to ask her to be my wife and I didn’t give a damn what he thought about it.

I’d fight him. I’d drag him through the dirt. I’d ruin our lifelong friendship if it came to that.

“You fucking jackass,” I grumbled as I passed the bunkhouse and followed the dirt road leading to my property. The old white picket fence that surrounded my front yard groaned as I pressed my weight into it for a moment while my head spun. I held the fence as I looked up into the cloudless, star-filled night. God and I were on the outs, as far as I was concerned. I hadn’t spoken to Him in years. What good was it to start praying now, especially if it was only for some relief from the hold Keely had on my mind and my heart?

I damn near fell in a heap in the grass. I was drunk as hell, and it wasn’t getting any better as I trudged into my empty, quiet house. It was furnished nicely—I wasn’t a totally lonely bachelor with nothing but an old couch and TV, no. But it felt emptier than ever as I walked through the living room and kitchen, looking for the bottle I’d left on the counter before heading to dinner at the Hallston’s.

My phone was on the counter, too, a blue light blinking to let me know I had some missed calls or texts.

I ran my finger over the screen, leaning my weight against the counter. My stomach curled as Pete’s name flashed across the screen, a stream of unread text messages filling up the space from the group chat I had with him and some of our friends from town. I rarely participated in the conversation. It was mostly about sports, or some scheme the guys were cooking up for the weekend.

Henry: Jasmine let me buy a boat, guys, look at her!

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