Western Flame

Chapter 9

He was going to get slapped.

Tanner braced on the wall with one arm, their mouths fused, waiting for her to shove him and scream. Liana touching him, her heat so close—he'd just reacted. All evening he'd been overwhelmed, outside his comfort zone, her scent and her little gestures from so long ago teasing out from the edges of his memories. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be kissing her... He was no better than Dermott. But he was helpless the moment she put her hand on his chest and looked up at him.

Instead of a slap, she leaned back against the wall and tugged him forward, winding her fingers into his hair, bringing him down closer to her, deepening their connection. She kissed him back just as fiercely as he had kissed her. Encouraged by her reaction, he slid his other hand around her. The swell of her hip fit perfectly, and the memory of her from years ago blew away in the explosion of her curves as he learned her again.

She let out a gasp as he trailed his mouth over her jaw, onto her neck. He remembered the pulse point right under her ear that if he kissed it, would drive her nuts.

Just like before, the moment he found it, she tilted to let him in. The resulting breathy moan sent a surge of adrenalin through him, and he groaned in response. Fuck, that was perfect. No one had ever responded to him like her. Ever. He stayed there a moment, breathing her in, teasing her, slowly moving down towards her throat.

"Tanner, stop," she muttered, her voice pitched low, her hands leaving him to brace behind her. The hot, heavy moment was over and now there was the aftermath. He eased back, trying desperately to catch his breath. He wanted her, and it wasn't helped by her tousled hair and just-kissed lips inches from him.

He desperately wanted to lose himself in her.

Bad idea, West.

Bowing his head down, he attempted to reason within himself, as well as brace for the Liana-explosion from what he'd just done. He deserved whatever she threw at him for giving in to that impulse.

"Liana, I'm sorr—"

"Let me out," she interrupted, and he pushed away from the wall. She took a few steps from him and crossed her arms over her stomach.

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, just watched her as she fumbled with her shirtsleeves, rolling them down over her wrists. For once he couldn't figure out if she was mad or not. What was obvious was that he'd made her uncomfortable.

"I'll go," he said when she didn't offer anything up. He moved to the door, but she sidestepped and stood in front of him.

"So, just to be clear, this—" she said, gesturing between them, "Was an impulsive, spur of the moment thing, right?"

Tanner had no idea why, but that statement annoyed him. "Whatever you want, Liana," he said flatly. He needed out of here now. Frustration, an urge to lay her out on her bed, and his runaway lust was rolling inside him like grain in an auger.

"For fuck's sake," Liana muttered. "Tanner—"

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, cutting her off.

She backed up, hands in the air. "Okay. There's the door then," she replied, the annoyance in her voice obvious.

"Goodnight," he muttered, and gave up trying to mend what had obviously just made things worse. He swept his coat and hat up and made his way towards the door. As he closed it, something hit the other side with a thump. How many times had he ducked shoes when they were dating and he'd said something stupid, deserving the warning? She was still the same in so many ways, her temper as delicate as it ever was.