Burned by a Kiss Read online

  He pushed her back against the pillow, crushing her mouth with his. Emma arched against him, her hands greedily grabbing at him, feeling the strong planes of skin, the cords of muscle. His mouth claimed hers hard, insistent, demanding, and she begged him with her body to give her more.

  “Slow,” Santana murmured, pulling away. He pushed her hair behind her ears, gazing at her lips, down her neck. “I want this moment to last all night.”

  He meant it. She saw the hot passion consuming him, felt his need for her. But the moment couldn’t last all night, she was too hungry for him. Needed him too much. When he removed her blouse, dropping it to the floor, and snaked his hands around her to unhook her bra, she kissed his shoulder. Found another bullet wound and closed her eyes.

  “Santana,” she whispered, wanting him inside her now. Needed to feel him, hold him, because this moment had nearly been stolen from them forever.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything.”

  He cupped a breast reverently, shocking her when he tweaked the nipple, bent to suck it into his mouth. She gasped, nearly coming apart from the hot sensations flooding her. Unable to help herself, she reached for him, wrapping her hand around his shaft. He groaned, her nipple still in his mouth, and she felt her body rush with desire only he could sate.

  She gasped when he pushed her back against the pillows again, her hand slipping from him. He tore into her breasts with hot kisses, torturing her nipples with expert licks and nibbles that made her cry out. He buried his face against her belly, crushing her to him, his hands tight against her. The groan that ripped from him stole her breath in answer. He slathered her belly with fire, his kisses urgent. He’d come to the top of the lace again, and she arched, unable to help herself, he kissed her through the fabric.

  Then shoved the panties away, stripping her bare at last. He kissed her bud, a gentle introduction, then crushed her against his mouth, holding her captive as he tasted her, kissed her. A cry ripped from Emma and his tongue dove inside her, and the climax that hit her felt like it tore her soul apart.

  “Santana,” she cried out, urging him with her hands. Gently he placed her against the bed. Finally, she could reach him, and she pulled him toward her.

  “Wait,” he told her, “I’m going to take care of you.”

  She realized he was putting on a condom. Her fingers trembling, she tried to help, probably slowing him down instead because he kissed her, pressing her back. His mouth searched hers as if he never wanted to let her go, even as he parted her legs, nestled between them. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, and she cried out when his finger slid inside her, parting her folds. A huge groan escaped him when he encountered her slickness, and Emma arched, begging him silently to come inside her.

  At her opening, he stilled, his gaze on hers.

  “I want you,” she murmured. “I’ve waited forever for this.”

  A groan that sounded like a roar ripped from him, and inch by inch, he pushed inside her, claiming her. His fingers danced over her bud, and a wild singing burst inside her as she tried to get closer to the pleasure she felt rising again. Every time her hips convulsed to get more of him, obey the dance of his fingers, he went deeper. A cry gathered at the back of her throat, and he seemed to sense it, because he angled his mouth over hers, kissing her hard. Stealing her breath. Slammed into her over and over, finally letting loose the passion she knew he’d struggled to keep from her. She welcomed it, her hands clutching at his shoulders, begging him not to stop.

  The climax broke over her like stars bursting in the skies. “Santana,” she cried, wildly tearing at him to bring him closer. His kisses rained against her mouth. She gasped when he clutched her bare bottom in his palms, crushing her, driving himself in deep. With a cry, he collapsed, and she took him in her arms, reveling at the feel of his heartbeat against her.

  They lay there boneless, silent. Emma closed her eyes, loving the feel of him in her arms. It had taken years, but she’d finally made love with Santana Dark.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’ve been thinking,” Nick said the next day, coming into the barn where Santana was checking over the collection of horses the Dark ranch had amassed over the years. Santana barely glanced at Nick, his mind completely bewitched by the memory of Emma in his arms yesterday. “Your sister doesn’t trust me.”

  That got Santana’s attention. He unwillingly met Nick’s gaze. “Sierra doesn’t trust many people.” Santana closed a stall and went to wash his hands in the wide steel double basin sink. “But if I’m being honest, caution’s a good thing. You have no reason to trust us, either.”

  “That’s true, except I do.”

  “A man in your position doesn’t get as far as you have by being naïve.” Santana toweled off and faced his new boss. “I’ve no doubt you had us thoroughly checked out. Me, in particular, before you made your offer.”

  Nick shrugged. “You’re right.”

  “So what’s on your mind?”

  “Your mother and father adopted all of you because they couldn’t have children. According to the paperwork, none of you are related. But Sierra’s birth parents are mentioned in the paperwork.”

  Santana felt strangely like he’d been sucker-punched. “Where did you find that?”

  “In the trust information the lawyers had. I’ve been going over it with them.”

  He’d never thought about who their biological parents were, hadn’t wanted to accept what they’d learned that day in the attorneys’ office. Maybe he should have—but they’d all been reeling. Once they knew they no longer had a roof over their head, they’d had to make plans fast.

  They’d pushed the heartache away, decided that, blood or no blood, they were a family no one was going to tear apart, and vowed to stay the way they’d always been: close. Tight-knit.

  Maybe deep inside they’d known they had to rely on each other. There really had been nowhere else for them to look for emotional security.

  “Sierra already thinks I’m some kind of pecuniary weasel. I figure this is your family decision to share or not.”

  Nick’s voice had cracked, like he wasn’t comfortable being in the spot he found himself. Poor bastard. “Look, for the record, we don’t blame you for anything. Dad did what he had to do. He had faults and issues, and a life we never knew about. We’re all still processing it. We’ll probably be processing it for years. But we don’t blame you.”

  “You may feel that way. Your sister doesn’t.” Nick sighed.

  “Why didn’t the lawyers tell her when we were there?”

  “Because they just happened to locate a birth certificate that was hidden inside one of the files. Either someone misfiled it, or it was placed there later. Clerk error. They’ve worked with your father for years. Papers get lost.”

  “Why’d they tell you and not Sierra?”

  “I asked.”

  “You asked if any of our birth parents’ names were in the files?”

  “I wondered how many secrets Sonny had been keeping. And how many my father had been keeping. So I asked, and they checked, and stumbled across a record while the clerk was looking around.”

  “Why didn’t they call Sierra?”

  Nick looked tired. Santana felt for him. Their shit wasn’t really his problem.

  “My guess is they’re going to. Or they’ve tried, and maybe your sister hasn’t returned their calls. From the standpoint of the executorship, perhaps they thought it was important to the estate. Hell if I know.”

  Sierra hadn’t said a word to him, but then again, Sierra was notoriously unpredictable about keeping her cell phone on her. She didn’t like to carry a purse, just her keys and a Nalgene. Drove him and his brothers nuts.

  On the occasion she bothered to find her phone, they got return texts from her, that went, ’k, no, mb for maybe, and ly! for love you(!).

  “I’m going to have to think about it.” At the moment Sierra was a bit fragile. She was opening a
store, which wouldn’t be such a crazy idea if she wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old who’d never been to college. Sierra had stayed home to take care of the ranch and Sonny, while Santana had ditched as soon as he was out of high school. Almost the day after he’d stolen that kiss from Emma at graduation, he’d found himself on the road, heading to BUD’S.

  “Ball’s in your court,” Nick said, sounding a lot more cheerful now that he’d unloaded the baggage he’d been carrying.

  Santana nodded. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He looked hopeful. “If you guys have time for dinner tonight, let me know.”

  He headed out of the barn, whistling, apparently untroubled, now that he’d dumped his startling news on Santana.

  Sierra was going to be devastated. Santana didn’t know how he was going to tell her.

  And he hadn’t told Nick the obvious: It was just one more thing Sierra would lay at Nick’s door, branding him the most useless wingtip-wearing, striped-suit troublemaker who ever hit Star Canyon.

  He left to find the only source of calm he knew, calm he desperately needed right now.

  • • •

  “Not that I’m trying to make a habit of this,” Santana said, “but I figured Joe needed a play date.”

  They sat on Emma’s porch, watching the three dogs run and wrestle in the snow. They’d be wet and muddy, no doubt, but it was worth it to see the three rescues so happy.

  “I’ve got plenty of dog towels just for this kind of occasion,” Emma said. “I’m glad you came by.”

  He hadn’t come for a play date, of course. With his brothers gone, it was just him and Sierra now, and it was lonely at the rental house, which still didn’t feel like home.

  He tried to tell himself that Joe needed exercise, and it was polite to bring a bottle of wine by and a couple of plates of takeout from Mary’s restaurant, considering all that Emma had done for Joe—but that wasn’t it, either.

  Sitting on this porch with Emma, watching the dogs play, sipping on wine and gazing up at the stars—it felt like a stress-free brain wipe.

  No, it wasn’t even that.

  Something inside him needed to be with her, craved her companionship, wanted to see her smile at him. God, that was the best feeling in the world, when she smiled at him, like he was the only thing that mattered.

  He desired Emma, wanted her in the worst way. When they’d made love, he’d been shocked by the depth of his feelings and need for her. But more than that, he just liked being with her.

  “Are you still worried about Sierra?” Emma asked.

  “I am, and I’m not. She’s tough, a survivor. She’ll come through it.” He pushed away the thought that he hadn’t relayed the information from Nick. Part of him had hoped that the attorneys’ office would call and tell her, thereby organically relieving him of the problem.

  “I guess I meant that she’s very focused on her new business.”

  “Wedding dresses. Impractical, according to Nick, and he’s the high roller. I guess he’d know.” He sensed Emma was carefully trying to tell him she was worried about Sierra. But he would never accept her taking a job with the fire department.

  But wedding dresses—that was an impractical dream destined to fail.

  Even Sonny had said his only daughter was spoiled outrageously, and if she hadn’t been such a homebody, he thought his daughter would be either a CEO of a large corporation, or riding on the back of a Hell’s Angels bike. Coin flip, he’d said, could go either way.

  Santana had always detected the note of tender resignation in his father’s voice—but Santana himself wasn’t equipped to deal with a sister who might be spiraling.

  He whistled for Joe, and the Golden retriever ran to him instantly, his tongue heaving. Just seeing that expression brought a smile to Santana’s face. “Sierra was right.” He patted Joe’s head. “This dog is awesome.”

  Emma smiled, handed him a towel to dry off Joe. She dried Gus and Bean, and all three dogs slurped happily from the water bowl she’d put on the porch. “Come in and we’ll eat the food you brought.”

  He was about to follow her and the dogs into the house when the sound of tires crushing the gravel driveway caught their attention. Sierra’s red truck pulled up beside his, and she hopped out. Santana winced at Emma’s gasp, but he felt the same.

  Sierra’s beautiful, waist-length platinum hair was cropped close to her scalp, standing up in a spiky, modern haircut. It wasn’t blond anymore, not entirely. Dark streaks of blue mixed in the silvery strands, giving her an entirely modern look.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Tell me that’s a wig.”

  “I don’t think so,” Emma said quickly. “Come on. Act like you love it.”

  “I don’t.” He followed Emma as she went to greet Sierra, the pack of dogs bounding along with them. “I don’t suppose it would be helpful if I said so.”

  “I don’t think so. Sierra, you’re just in time for dinner!”

  “Look at my new ’do!” Sierra swiveled her head so they could admire it. “And my new tat!” She pulled up the sleeve of her black top, showing off a long, ornate scroll. Something a warrior might have worn into battle, circa the 1500s. It took up almost the entire inside of her arm.

  “Where’d you get the tat?” Santana demanded, pissed and not interested in the design concept. He wanted to know why, and what the hell was going on in his sister’s head.

  “In Lightning Canyon. There’s a guy there who everybody was raving about, so I decided to get one!” She looked pleased with herself. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Santana wondered what their father would say if he were alive to see the “new” Sierra. He looked at his sister closely, detecting a shift in her attitude, a new wildness that hadn’t been there before. “It’s your body,” he said gruffly.

  “Spoken like a true older brother. Come eat,” Emma said, always playing the part of a diplomat, Santana thought.

  “I can’t. I just came by to show off.” Sierra popped her brother on the arm. “How’s working for Nick going?”

  “It’s fine.” He was still rattled by the short haircut, tried to tell himself her hair would grow back. She looked like a delighted and mischievous sprite, and he wanted the sister back that he was used to. “We stay out of each other’s way.”

  “I don’t know how you stand working for that old donkey. Just being around him gives me ants in my pants!” She laughed, and gave all the dogs a thorough scratch around their ears before getting in her truck. “I’m going to look at a space in town to put my store. I’ll pick up some doughnuts for breakfast!”

  She waved and drove off, still grinning. Santana turned to Emma. “Did we discuss whether I was still worried about my crazy little sister?”

  Emma laughed. “Come on. Hot food and maybe a toddy will make you feel better.”

  “It won’t,” he grumbled, willingly following. The dogs led the way, churning snow and keeping an eye out for things to chase in the snow. “She looks like a boy that painted his hair.”

  “She looked darling.”

  They dried the dogs off again and went inside the house. “I sense you’re saying that to help me get over the shock.”

  She poured them both another glass of wine and pulled the food out from the oven where she’d kept it warming. “Sierra’s just expressing herself.”

  He sank onto a seat at the island, watching Emma. The dogs had settled themselves onto their dog beds, worn out from playing. Princess the cat eyed him from the top of a bookcase. The gray lovebirds slept perched together. This place should be a hotbed of disorganization, a zoo, but it was calm and comforting. Like Emma.

  Santana felt worn out from trying to digest his sister’s appearance. “Dad loved Sierra’s hair.”

  “Change is good. It’s okay, Santana.” She smiled at him, put a plate in front of him that he had no desire to touch. “Obviously she needed to do that.”

  “I guess.” He drummed his fingers on the granite
island top. “She’s so beautiful. Why is she making herself ugly on purpose?”

  “Santana.” Emma giggled, shaking her head at him. “She’s twenty-two and full of spirit. She’s expressing herself. Why is short hair ugly on her and not on you?”

  He stared at her. “I’m a guy?”

  “Oh, and men like long hair, therefore, Sierra must conform to that beauty ideal?” She sat beside him. “Your sister is adorable. Don’t worry, someday her prince will find her, and he will love her for the beautiful girl she is, inside and out.”

  “I like your hair just the way it is,” he said gruffly, eying the red top-knot of hair curling out of the ponytail holder. He loved Emma’s hair, loved the springy, bounciness of it. It was sexy as hell. What if Sierra sparked a revolution in Star Canyon of boyish hair styles, and Emma followed suit? “You won’t do that, will you?”

  She looked at him. “Would it matter?”

  Maybe he should be making changes, be a little more Sierra and a lot less Santana, looking for a past that wasn’t coming back. What the hell was wrong with him? “I’d still be here as often as you’d let me be.”

  She smiled at him, and he perked up. It was like the sun breaking through clouds when she smiled at him, like he was the only man on the planet.

  Suddenly, he knew he had to wake up to that smile every day for the rest of his life.

  “I’m not cutting my hair, or getting a tattoo. Though I respect Sierra and support her for following her inner guide.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, “be bald, be beautiful. Whatever you want. Just kiss me, Emma Glass.”

  Emma slid off the stool and into Santana’s arms without hesitation. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He sought her mouth hungrily, was surprised when she met him kiss for kiss. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him close, drawing him in—and suddenly, Santana realized that this kiss was different.