"You remember being out here?" he asked. How could I forget? This wasn't the first time I'd been with him under the overhang, escaping a sudden storm or sneaking sips of beer we'd stolen from his father's stash. But that's not what he was talking about. He was talking about the times we'd been out here before, just like the time in the aspen grove. The thought of the things we'd done out here sent a shiver up my spine.

"Of course I remember," I said, my words clipped short as I tried to keep my voice steady. I didn't dare look at him. If I did, it would be over.

The last time we'd been under this overhang, twenty years ago, he had kissed the length of me, roamed my body with his hands. Even now, a lifetime later, I could feel the heat of his touch on my skin, the memory imprinted on my body.

All of that was in the past. Far in the past. I'd left that part of me behind and it was staying in the past. Cade may have been my first love, but he wasn't anymore. If I reminded myself of that fact enough times, maybe I'd be able to ignore the irresistible pull toward him that I felt right now.

Cade put his hand on my arm, the heat radiating through me. "June," he said, his voice gravelly.

Finally, I looked at him. Everything was suddenly eclipsed by this feeling of deja vu, the knowledge that I had been here before with him, not only in this physical place, but this emotional one. I was sixteen again, heady with l.u.s.t, my thoughts clouded by desire.

"You're all wet," I whispered, looking at the way his tee-shirt clung to his chest, the fabric clinging to his muscles. I didn't need to think about what he would look like without that shirt.

"So are you," he said. I pulled at the hem of the shirt, shaking it away from my body. It's not like he hasn't seen me naked before, I thought. But I was overwhelmingly self-conscious, standing there in front of him.

Cade's gaze moved from my face down lower, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

"Cade," I said. "We - I - can't." My voice came out shaky, timid, and uncertain. It sounded nothing like me.

"Can't what?" he asked. His hand was still on my forearm, and I felt him slide his other hand around to the small of my back, sending a shudder rippling through my body. I felt pulled to him by some kind of irresistible force, powerless to just step away.

And that's what I needed to do - step away from him now, before everything changed.

Cade was no good for me.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

Did I really want to know the answer?

"I don't know, Junebug," Cade said. He reached up, fingers under my chin, his thumb gently moving down the length of my jaw line. "I'm just getting out of the rain. That's what you're doing, isn't it?"

"Yes." That's all I was doing, standing here with him, his arm around my waist. "Getting out of the rain. That's all."

Cade leaned in closer, his voice gruff. "You sure about that?"

The rational part of me was screaming, Step back. Flashing it like a neon sign. Pull away from him. Step away before you start something you can't stop...something you don't want to stop.

Cade bent his head down toward mine, his mouth so close to mine I could nearly taste him on my lips. I felt my lips part, as if of their own accord, the air cool against them as I drew in my breath. I wanted him to crush me with his lips.

It was all I could think about.

"Yes." My voice cracked, but I croaked out the words. "Yes. I'm sure." I was too old for this, too old to rekindle some stupid high school romance.

He was so close. I wanted to fall forward, to fall into him, to let go and feel what I felt years ago. But I couldn't. I stood there frozen, unmoving, unwavering, my feet rooted in the ground.

"That's too bad," he whispered. "I thought you might be looking for something more."

Something more.

No. Not with Cade.

I stepped away from him, my back flat against the rock.

The moment was gone.

Cade stood there, his eyes still trained on me, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "No, I don't want - "

I couldn't say it.

I don't want to fall for you again.

Cade's eyes narrowed, and even though he spoke softly I could feel the intensity in his words. "What don't you want, June? The biker thing isn't good enough for you? Cops are more your speed?"

I felt a flash of anger. "I saw you outside when Jed brought me back, Cade. If you have something you want to say about Jed and me, go right ahead and say it."

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Do you somehow think I owe you something, some kind of explanation?" I asked. "I'm not yours anymore, Cade Austin."

"You don't owe me anything," he said. "But you don't belong with him."

"Oh yeah? I asked, tilting my head up toward him. "How do you know who I belong with? What exactly do you know about me anymore, Cade?"

"I know you, June," he said, stepping forward, close to me. Any closer and his body would be pressed up against mine, pushing me into the rock behind me.

Any closer and I would be done for. I wouldn't be able to step away from him. And I didn't know if I could handle that. So I just stood there, paralyzed by fear. But I wanted him. I wanted him so badly I could almost taste him, taste his lips against mine, taste the sweetness of his skin as I ran my tongue across it, taste the sweetness of his c.o.c.k as I wrapped my lips around him. These were the things I remembered about him, the things I couldn't forget.

"No," I whispered. "You don't know me anymore, Cade. We grew up."

"I know that you don't belong with some small-town sheriff, some straight-laced, follow-the-rules guy who's going to f.u.c.k you missionary style for the rest of your life." He leaned in closer, his lips near mine. "I know you don't want to talk to him about how his day was, about how many tickets he wrote and how many drunks he arrested on the weekend."

My face felt warm, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or desire.

"You say you want quiet, but I don't believe it, not for a minute," Cade said. "It's not who you are."

I turned, twisted my body away from him. "Who do you think I am, Cade?"

I felt his hands on my shoulders, sliding down my arms, and the thrill of arousal raced through me.

"You're the same girl you've always been, June," he said. "You don't want straight-laced and quiet. You want someone who's going to f.u.c.k you like you're meant to be f.u.c.ked. You want to want someone so bad that you're falling all over yourself, begging for it because you can't think about anything else except his hands between your legs....his c.o.c.k inside you."

"That's what you think I want?" I whispered. My voice faltered, giving me away. Despite everything in my brain telling me otherwise, that I shouldn't be attracted to him, that he was not the same Cade, I could feel arousal coursing through me, all of my senses heightened.

"I know that's what you want," he said.

My lips parted, and I arched my back to meet his lips.

And that motherf.u.c.ker pulled back.

A smirk crossed his face. "Say it."

"Say what?" I asked.

"Say you want me," he said. "Say you want me, more than anything. Tell me that all you've been thinking about it how I would feel inside you."

I could have smacked him, right then and there. Except that what he was saying was true. The thought of his hands on my body was so all-consuming I couldn't think about anything else. Except how crazy he made me.

"I -" I started to say. Then, I steeled myself. "No."

I started to step back, but Cade placed his hand on my arm, stopping me. I could hear the rain coming down around us, could feel the tiny droplets as they splashed up and bounced against the rocks.

He slid his hands around my waist, his hand tight against the small of my back, holding me firmly in place. Then, his eyes still on mine, he pulled me against him, roughly, and I could feel his hardness pressed into me.

"Say it, June." He moved his head millimeters away from my ear, his lips nearly touching my skin. Then I felt his lips brush against my skin, on the place, that sensitive place, the place just below my ear lobe. A trail of goose b.u.mps ran up my arm, and I shuddered.

"Say what?"

"Tell me what you want," he said. "Tell me who you want. Beg me."

Cade dragged his finger down the side of my neck to my collarbone, his touch lighter than a feather. Then, his movements achingly slow, he traced his lips along the length where his finger had been. As he moved his lips along my skin, I could feel his tongue just barely touch me, and heat radiated from my core.

I didn't want him, right? This criminal, the new Cade, this wasn't what I wanted. Somehow I couldn't telegraph that message to my body.

"No," I said. But even as I said it, it rang hollow to my ears.

"No?" He traced his finger over the curves of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then down the valley between them. I felt the cool air between my teeth as I inhaled sharply at his touch. My nipples hardened against the fabric of my bra. His eyes still on mine, he cupped my breast, his palm over the fabric of my shirt, and I arched my back, pressing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his palm. "Still no?"

I murmured something; I'm not sure what exactly.

But it sure as h.e.l.l wasn't "no" this time.

It wasn't "f.u.c.k, yeah," either. I wouldn't give Cade the satisfaction of hearing me beg for him.

So I stood there, still, my eyes trained on his. He moved his hand lower, slid it down my side to my waist, looking at me. Watching me for a reaction. He raised an eyebrow, as if daring me, urging me to say something.

"You definitely don't want me, right?" he asked, as he slipped his hand underneath my tee-shirt, sliding his palm under my bra and touching my breast. The heat from his hand, rough and calloused against my skin, covered the surface of my skin and I nearly groaned out loud. The only thing that kept me from moaning and begging him to f.u.c.k me right now was my pride.

"No," I gasped, biting my lower lip to keep from moaning as he swirled his thumb around my nipple.

"Should I stop?" he whispered, his lips near my ear again, the heat from his breath sending a tingle radiating through my body.

"No." I admitted it before I could stop myself. I couldn't help myself, not where Cade was concerned.

With his other hand, he unb.u.t.toned my jeans, tugged my pants down around my thighs, and slid his hand down my pants, between my legs.

Then there was no denying I wanted him now.

When he realized how wet I was, he groaned. Or growled, rather. "June," he said, his finger making circles over my c.l.i.t, sending rippling waves of pleasure over me that nearly brought me to my knees, "You're going to have to say it."

I ignored him, my mind too preoccupied with what his hand was doing, what his fingers were doing between my legs. I just couldn't seem to think straight, not where Cade was concerned. Cade had me seeing double. h.e.l.l, he had me seeing more than that. His touch was taking me back to being sixteen again, back when I was drunk on him.

Then he pushed apart my legs with his hand, and slipped his finger inside me.

"Say what?" I practically panted it, an animal in heat. My body burned for him.

"Say what you want," Cade said. "Say what we both know you want."

My lips parted, and his eyes focused on them, waiting. His hand was still and I felt myself tighten around him.

Move, d.a.m.n it.

I willed him to move his hand, just a little bit. I was already on the threshold. "f.u.c.k me."

There. I said it.

He didn't move. And then a little smile, just the beginning of one, formed on his lips. "I didn't hear you," he said.

The a.s.shole.

"f.u.c.k. Me." I said it again. I could feel my p.u.s.s.y throbbing around his fingers, waiting. Why wasn't he already inside me? Why hadn't he already ripped my jeans off me, thrust himself inside me?

"You didn't say please,'" he said, leaning close to me, his breath hot on my ear. He pushed his fingers deeper inside me, and I nearly cried from frustration. "You didn't beg."

I opened my mouth, fully intending to say "f.u.c.k you." But, to my horror, I heard myself say, "Please."

I heard this sound come from his throat, this deep growl, and he covered my mouth with his, an animal devouring his prey. I pressed my body against him, desperate, wanting to be rid of my clothes. He yanked my shirt up over my head, threw it somewhere, and I fumbled, grasping at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up.

And saw the scars, the rippled flesh where he had been burned. I paused, running my hands over his skin, my fingers registering the each little ridge and valley.

"Cade," I said, the realization of what must have happened to him washing over me.

He'd gotten a Silver Star after one of the deployments.

He covered my hand with his, drew it away from his chest, shook his head. "Don't, June," he said.

"But, I -" He thought I was going to say something trite, something stupid. He thought I would pity him.

Cade shook his head. "Don't say a word."

I ached to explore his body, to remember it with my fingers, but I wanted him hard, fast. Immediately.

He pulled my jeans down farther, and I tried to kick off my shoes, step out of the fabric, muttering an expletive under my breath as they caught on my legs.

"Let me," Cade whispered, and he knelt to the ground, sliding the pants off with one hand as he leaned in and put his mouth between my legs.

"Oh my G.o.d." I tilted my head against the rock wall behind me, luxuriating in the warmth of Cade's mouth on me. He brought me to the edge, and then, just as I was about to crash over it, stood up.

He reached into his back pocket, and I barely registered what he had in his hand until he slid his pants down his thighs. I watched his c.o.c.k spring free and he began to roll a condom on his length. I was delirious with l.u.s.t, but the realization of what he had in his hand hit me. "What the h.e.l.l?" I asked. "You brought a condom with you out here?"