“What are you saying?” With Lissa, he needed verbal confirmation. What he thought was an advance, she could mean as an invitation to go catfishing with her bare hands. Anything went with this woman.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Well, that seemed clear enough. But she’d been upset. Perhaps—
Lissa pounced, knocking him backward as she dug her hands into his hair and planted her mouth on his.
His back hit the ground. Pebbles dug into his skin, but he couldn’t have cared less. Settling his hands on her hips, he gripped the fabric of her shorts, pulling her tight to his body.
Lissa’s eagerness washed away the last of his worries. Her kiss was deep, devouring, and he felt every slide of her tongue against his, right down to his toes. Her lips were as soft as her grip in his hair was firm. She was such a contradiction. Sweet but aggressive. Wild yet tender. It would take him years to learn all her facets. Years, when he only had weeks.
Heat rose behind his eyelids, and he pushed that thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Gripping the back of her head, he rolled, pinning her slight frame beneath his, keeping hold of her the only way he knew how.
Threading his fingers into her damp curls, he angled her head, took the kiss deeper. “Jesus, Liss. You taste so good.” He nipped at her lower lip. “Feel so good. I can’t get enough.”
Also by Allyson Charles
The Pineville series
Putting Out Old Flames
The Christmas Tree
Why Did It Have to Be You?
The Christmas Wedding Swap
The Forever Friends series
Forever Home
Forever Found
And read more Allyson Charles in
That Mistletoe Moment
A Wedding on Bluebird Way
Table of Contents
Also by Allyson Charles
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Teaser Chapter
Forever Wild
Allyson Charles
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Copyright © 2019 by Allyson Charles
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Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: June 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0628-8 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0628-8 (ebook)
First Print Edition: June 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0629-5
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0629-6
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To Alicia Condon. Thank you for being a fan of my writing and helping to make each book better. It has been greatly appreciated.
Chapter 1
Dax Cannon never thought trouble would appear in such an unassuming package. But with his vast experience in stirring it up or sniffing it out, he really should have known better.
She wore a paisley kerchief tank top, the triangle hem fluttering around her waist. Dax didn’t see her face as she hurried past, but the cascade of curls tumbling down her back was enough to capture his attention. They looked so soft, Dax’s palms itched to reach out and touch them. Her hair was a rich mahogany near the roots, growing lighter until the blond tips disappeared into the sunlight. Her bare, tawny arms were long and slender, and the tips of the fingers on her right hand were stained blue. She had a black backpack tossed over one shoulder, and it bounced off her pert behind with each step she took as she jaywalked across the street.
Reaching the other side, the woman stopped by two young boys tap-dancing on the sidewalk, dug into her pocket, and tossed some bills into an upturned hat. One of the kids gave her a thumbs-up as he spun at lightning speed.
Unbidden, Dax’s feet turned to follow. He stepped onto Decatur Street, and a mule brayed a foot from his left ear. Heart thumping, he leaped back onto the sidewalk.
He shook his head and patted the animal’s rump as it trotted past. “What a dumb ass,” he muttered, and he wasn’t talking about the mule. When the tourist carriage passed, the woman with the long curls was gone.
He sighed. Well, no matter. He wasn’t in New Orleans for a vacation. He’d left Crook County only two days ago. Two days, one thousand miles, four tanks of gas, and more fast-food restaurants than he could count. And now to make the return trip at the same exhausting pace. But the eight at-risk dogs he’d picked up from the local pound were heading to Forever Friends, the no-kill shelter he volunteered for in Michigan. They were safe, and that made the trip worth every headache.
A gust of wind rippled the green awning of Café du Monde. An elderly woman in front of the café grabbed for her scarf, but it blew off her shoulders. Caught in the breeze, it drifted up and up and wrapped itself around a light post.
Dax jogged over to her. “I’ll get that for you, ma’am. If you’ll