Read Online Thunder Running by Rebecca Crowley - Free Book Online

who was twelve years her senior and routinely whimpered his ex-wife’s name in his sleep. The shale driller with the gorgeous face and hideous personality who shoved her into a dresser so hard she wore a book-sized bruise on her hip for weeks.
    From the moment he smiled at her in the bar she’d sensed Chance’s difference, not only to the other men she’d dated but to everyone, everywhere. He had that slightly detached, outsider’s manner she knew defined her as well, and when their gazes locked for the first time it brought the certainty that they were the same, the odd ones out who’d finally given up on trying to wedge themselves into life’s grid.
    As she looked up at him now she remembered the unfamiliar contentment that drugged her as she’d dozed in his arms in that sterile hotel room, under that ugly beige blanket. She’d never felt so secure, so accepted. She’d never fit so well.
    The pain of his abandonment, her doubt about the decision to come here, the nagging uncertainty of the future still clawed at the edges of her happiness, but for one minute she chose to ignore them. Chance was waiting for her answer—did she believe she was safe with him?
    She nodded.
    He kissed her.
    It was everything she wanted, everything she remembered from those two whirlwind days together, everything she imagined on the long drive to Fort Preston. He smelled like honeysuckle and seawater, tasted like beer, and the hand gripping her waist did so with exactly the same barely restrained urgency she’d felt back in December. The warmth of his mouth, the callused pads of his fingers were so achingly familiar she had to choke back a lump in her throat and tighten her lids against the tears gathering behind them.
    She’d missed him so damn much.
    Her hands found his tight haunches, her palm snuck beneath the hem of his jacket and crept under his flannel shirt to trace the ridge of his spine, fingers nestled safe and cozy against his bare skin. At her touch he pushed his tongue between her lips, its fervent explorations reminding her so vividly of the way it had licked and thrust between her legs that she moaned out loud, tightening her fist in the denim over his hip.
    His own hand left her waist to explore her side, her ribs, his thumb following the wire semi-circle of her bra until she seriously considered tugging her top over her head and telling him to go for it there and then, partying witnesses be damned.
    As if he could sense her approaching loss of control—or maybe trying to prevent his own—Chance pulled back, briefly pressing his forehead against hers before straightening to look at her. His shoulders heaved, his erection strained his jeans, yet she could tell from the tension in his face that he was drawing the line, that she wouldn’t be able to push him any further that night. Like a stern bartender confiscating her half-full glass, he was cutting her off.
    And just like a drunk ready to grudgingly admit she’d had one too many, she couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed. They’d rushed things once and nearly lost each other forever. She still needed to understand why he’d left her in December, but she didn’t want to risk scaring him off again if their runaway-train courtship was the reason. This time she would be patient and calm, flexible. Because this time she wasn’t letting him go.
    She crossed her arms, fixing him with a smug smile. “That’s more like it.”
    â€œGood. Does that put an end to your career at Rock’s?”
    â€œI won’t agree not to take a bartending job, but I promise I won’t work for Rob. How about that?”
    â€œThat’s fair.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back, freeing her from where she’d been pinned against the tree. “Sorry about my caveman moment. Of course you should work if you want to. I guess it’s important to me that you know you