Forsaken by Sarah Ballance Page A

clawing at his back, the flesh of his neck and shoulder muffling the sound of her calling his name.
    The climax started as a tremor and ended in cataclysm. Gage managed to plummet so deep inside her that she felt the throb of his release from her heart to her toes, which had somehow ended up in the vicinity of his neck.
    He turned to press a kiss to her ankle, then shifted his weight to his good arm, laughing.
    Riley found his gaze in the dark and summoned a glare. “What’s so funny?”
    “You’re not going to kick me across the room again, are you?”
    She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I bet you’d like it if I did.”
    “You think so?” He laced his fingers through hers and guided her arms over her head, pinning her to the mattress. The shift in position set a current of new electricity coursing through her veins, and she wasn’t the only one affected. Gage went from languishing in the heated, wet aftermath to an erection that stretched her with exquisite pressure and left her squirming.
    Grinning, he rocked against her in a way that suggested he’d spent the last year memorizing the coordinates of her G spot. Bending his head, he traced his tongue over one nipple, then the other, toying with her, raking her flesh with his teeth and his lips until she trembled beneath him. “Try it,” he suggested, “but don’t think there won’t be consequences.”
    Reduced to writhing through another orgasm, helpless except to reach for him and hang on, she didn’t bother with a response.
    He knew he’d won.
    If only she knew how she’d survive the ride.

Chapter Five
    I’m on birth control.
    Riley’s words hadn’t hit Gage at the time—he’d been far too distracted to comprehend anything beyond “yes”—but they struck him now.
    Hard.
    He drummed his fingers on the wheel of the old truck. Riley sat next to him, her hair whipping in the wind, giving him the occasional—and much needed—smack in the face. She’d never been on birth control before, and there was no good time to ask about that. And even if he came up with a way to ask that didn’t make him sound like a possessive ass, the last thing he really wanted was for her to sit there thinking about anyone else.
    He sighed. He was jealous of a dead man.
    Gage wasn’t proud of it. The admission had no place in the fragile state of his relationship with Riley, whatever it was. The RV, wedged in the shed, lacked a sunrise, so he had no idea how many hours they’d made love, or how many times. He only knew he’d spent every moment with her in his arms—some dozing, most in utter disbelief she was actually his again. Was being the operative word, because for all he knew she’d turned to him out of fear or a longing for something familiar. Self-preservation wouldn’t let him believe she could still want him in the bright light of day.
    Not even the wide, open Oklahoma prairie held that much promise.
    By the time they left the RV behind and hit the road in the beat-up pickup, the sun threatened the western horizon. He had a half-dozen missed calls from Maverick on his cell phone, and neither he nor Riley had eaten in over twenty-four hours—at least not anything with substance. Worse, they’d forgotten to dry her clothes, and his were covered in blood and grime. They’d worn them anyway, though—until they were a couple of hours out of Barefoot, where they found a nondescript thrift store just off the highway, on the outskirts of a city large enough to ignore unfamiliar faces. Against Gage’s better judgment, he let Riley go inside to buy clothes for them both. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight, but the odds of them crossing paths with the shooter at a Podunk thrift shop hours from home were pretty low. It was much more likely he’d rouse attention around the store wearing a blood-stained shirt, so he sat in the truck with his heart beating double time until she returned.
    Glancing at the tiny tank top she wore, he reconsidered the