her mouth in a hard kiss.
“No,” he croaked.
She released a shaky breath and pulled back. “There’s nothing wrong with you?”
He shook his head.
She yanked up his shirt and studied his chest. He was barely hanging on by a thread as it was, but then she put her hands on him, running her fingers over his abs and chest.
He couldn’t help it, he groaned. “What are you…?” Then her hands were back in his hair and he was back to not being able to talk.
“No scars. No sign of head injury.”
She was speaking to herself now, taking inventory of his injuries—or lack thereof.
That’s what she was doing? Did she think he’d suffered some kind of brain damage?
She frowned, brow furrowing. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfectly healthy.”
“Yes.” Fletch watched as different emotions played across her features, none of them good. Then she bit her lip and unshed tears welled in her eyes. Aw crap. Nothing much affected Fletch these days…except for this; he couldn’t bear to see Laney cry.
“Laney… babe.”
Those beautiful eyes narrowed, going from sad to pissed in two-point-five seconds. Her full lips compressed into a hard line. “You. Are. Not. Dead.” She punctuated each word with a finger jab to the chest.
Okay, now he was just plain confused. He shook his head, confirming the whole beating heart thing. She growled low then in a blur of movement, one of those prettily manicured hands appeared out of nowhere and made sharp contact with the side of his face. Hard enough to rattle his skull and cause the head injury she’d been checking for.
“Don’t you dare ‘Laney’ me!” Her voice shook with emotion.
“Jesus Christ, Sug—” She slapped him again and this time his ear started ringing. “Damn it, woman! Stop hitting me.”
“Fine.” She scrambled off his lap and yanked the door open.
Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist before she could take off across the parking lot. “Sorry, babe. I can’t let you go.”
“You didn’t have a problem letting me go five years ago.” She twisted her arm, trying to break his hold.
The verbal jab felt like a kick to the guts and he clamped his lips together before he said something she wasn’t ready to hear. “You need to come with me, Delaney.”
“Like hell. You let go of me Fletcher, right goddamned now.” She spun around, lifting her foot, and kicked out. He’d moved closer to stop her escape and her boot connected solidly with his balls.
“Motherfuck!” Somehow he managed to maintain his hold on her while he gasped for breath and tried not to throw up. She stopped fighting for a moment, wincing before that bloody stubborn expression returned and she tried to yank free again.
“I’m sorry, Fletch. But I’m not sorry I kicked you. You deserved that and a hell of a lot more.”
“You’re sorry that you’re not sorry? Kind of cancels out the first apology, don’t you think?” He panted.
She stilled, her brow scrunching as she contemplated that bit of puzzling genius. It gave him a chance to get a firmer grasp on her. He tightened his grip, not wanting to hurt her, but refusing to let go of the pissed off, squirming she-wolf.
She shook her head. “I can’t do this. I have to go, Fletcher. People are waiting for me.”
“Can’t let you do that, Sugar. You’re coming home with me.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you so damned arrogant? You think you can just show up here after five years? You really think I’d be so pleased, so…so grateful you decided to grace me with your presence that I’d immediately jump all over you?”
“You seemed pretty comfortable in my lap two minutes ago,” he reminded her.
A frustrated growl rumbled from the back of her throat. The low, throaty sound was sexy as all hell.
“You’re an ass.” This time when she tried to pull free, he tugged on her hand and she tumbled back inside the cab of his truck. Her body landed awkwardly across his lap. “Let me go,
“No,” he croaked.
She released a shaky breath and pulled back. “There’s nothing wrong with you?”
He shook his head.
She yanked up his shirt and studied his chest. He was barely hanging on by a thread as it was, but then she put her hands on him, running her fingers over his abs and chest.
He couldn’t help it, he groaned. “What are you…?” Then her hands were back in his hair and he was back to not being able to talk.
“No scars. No sign of head injury.”
She was speaking to herself now, taking inventory of his injuries—or lack thereof.
That’s what she was doing? Did she think he’d suffered some kind of brain damage?
She frowned, brow furrowing. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfectly healthy.”
“Yes.” Fletch watched as different emotions played across her features, none of them good. Then she bit her lip and unshed tears welled in her eyes. Aw crap. Nothing much affected Fletch these days…except for this; he couldn’t bear to see Laney cry.
“Laney… babe.”
Those beautiful eyes narrowed, going from sad to pissed in two-point-five seconds. Her full lips compressed into a hard line. “You. Are. Not. Dead.” She punctuated each word with a finger jab to the chest.
Okay, now he was just plain confused. He shook his head, confirming the whole beating heart thing. She growled low then in a blur of movement, one of those prettily manicured hands appeared out of nowhere and made sharp contact with the side of his face. Hard enough to rattle his skull and cause the head injury she’d been checking for.
“Don’t you dare ‘Laney’ me!” Her voice shook with emotion.
“Jesus Christ, Sug—” She slapped him again and this time his ear started ringing. “Damn it, woman! Stop hitting me.”
“Fine.” She scrambled off his lap and yanked the door open.
Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist before she could take off across the parking lot. “Sorry, babe. I can’t let you go.”
“You didn’t have a problem letting me go five years ago.” She twisted her arm, trying to break his hold.
The verbal jab felt like a kick to the guts and he clamped his lips together before he said something she wasn’t ready to hear. “You need to come with me, Delaney.”
“Like hell. You let go of me Fletcher, right goddamned now.” She spun around, lifting her foot, and kicked out. He’d moved closer to stop her escape and her boot connected solidly with his balls.
“Motherfuck!” Somehow he managed to maintain his hold on her while he gasped for breath and tried not to throw up. She stopped fighting for a moment, wincing before that bloody stubborn expression returned and she tried to yank free again.
“I’m sorry, Fletch. But I’m not sorry I kicked you. You deserved that and a hell of a lot more.”
“You’re sorry that you’re not sorry? Kind of cancels out the first apology, don’t you think?” He panted.
She stilled, her brow scrunching as she contemplated that bit of puzzling genius. It gave him a chance to get a firmer grasp on her. He tightened his grip, not wanting to hurt her, but refusing to let go of the pissed off, squirming she-wolf.
She shook her head. “I can’t do this. I have to go, Fletcher. People are waiting for me.”
“Can’t let you do that, Sugar. You’re coming home with me.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you so damned arrogant? You think you can just show up here after five years? You really think I’d be so pleased, so…so grateful you decided to grace me with your presence that I’d immediately jump all over you?”
“You seemed pretty comfortable in my lap two minutes ago,” he reminded her.
A frustrated growl rumbled from the back of her throat. The low, throaty sound was sexy as all hell.
“You’re an ass.” This time when she tried to pull free, he tugged on her hand and she tumbled back inside the cab of his truck. Her body landed awkwardly across his lap. “Let me go,
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