Delta: Retribution by Cristin Harber

starter.
    “You sounded… off.”
    Not sounded. He was off. Everything was disjointed, mostly because of the routine of life and picket fences surrounding him. But some of it was Marlena. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but when she came to mind, he felt a hole in his chest as though she were something he should have but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. His thoughts were so jacked.
    “Trace?” She put her beer on the kitchen counter. “If there’s some kind of problem with showing up unannounced, clue me in. Actually, now that I say that out loud”—she smiled, laughing—“it does sound a little much.”
    “No. It’s fine. Just… Four quiet walls make me a little claustrophobic. That’s all.”
    “That why you’re drenched in sweat?” Her nose wrinkled.
    Shit . “Yeah, guess so. Was planning to work out until I dropped, at least that was my plan.”
    “I have a cell phone again.” She wiggled it in her hand. Her eyes ran over him then shot across the kitchen. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”
    He did not want her to go. At all. Pressure built in his chest. “Give me a minute. Lemme shower off, and we’ll drink some beer.” There was hesitation hanging between them. “Be back in a minute. Don’t leave, Cinderella.”
    Without waiting, he turned and headed for the bathroom. Leaving her while he showered was a risk, given they’d been in this exact situation before, and it hadn’t ended well. Quick as he could, he ran shampoo through his hair and a washcloth over his body, ignoring the fact that his dick was semi-hard.
    Maybe she was on his couch. No way he was lucky enough to get out and find her in his bed. It didn’t matter. Anywhere he could lay her down and relieve the stress ratcheting up in his chest. One good kiss. One wild fuck. That would help.
    Dressed and heading toward the kitchen, he knew it before he saw: The kitchen was empty. The couch couldn’t have been more pathetic. She was gone.
    No, she wasn’t walking out on him. Not when he knew that he needed her. Burying himself in her would soothe away the empty ache in his soul. Sit-ups didn’t do shit compared to how good it’d feel to sink deep into her pussy. He wanted to hear her wear out his name and feel her tear scratches into his back.
    Trace grabbed his phone, not knowing her new number. The text message alert blinked for his attention. Sorry. Shouldn’t have shown up unannounced .
    The hell with apologies . He hit Call.
    She answered on the first ring. “Hey—”
    “I was gone for a second,” he growled at her.
    “And I was wrong to show up like that.”
    “Marlena.” He blew out, the tightness in his chest eating him alive. “Don’t make me chase you down.”
    “Why would you?”
    “Hell, why wouldn’t I?”
    She sighed. “I didn’t get too far.”
    He walked by a window, saw her parked in his driveway still, head leaning back. “Get back in here.”
    “Trace—”
    “Mar, don’t make me get you.”
    “I don’t respond well to orders.”
    That was bullshit. He remembered their night in the hotel room. He’d seen the look in her eyes when he’d told her to get on her knees, to play with her breasts. Goddamn, that one-night stand was hot, even weeks later. He pictured her with her eyes closed, delicate fingers squeezing her plump tits. His cock went from semi-interested to a repeat performance, begging for release. “I can’t figure out if you’re absolutely, totally used to getting your way or scared of me. You run when I say don’t. You leave when I want you to stay. You show up when I don’t expect you; you smile when I know you don’t want to.”
    She looked at him from her car.
    “When you called before, Marlena, I didn’t sound off, I was off. I was crawling the walls. Damn it.” Breathing in, he couldn’t quite get deep enough of a breath. “Get in here. I need you.”
    The car door opened. He held his breath until she was at his door. In his door. In his arms, against the wall.