“I want to try something,” he says, sliding closer to me and in this moment, I swear the air between us could power the ranch’s entire grid.
“What?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.
“It’s a bit risky, but I think you can handle it.”
His eyes keep dancing over my mouth and heat blooms under my skin. He leans across the center console and reaches out, skimming my cheek with his finger.
“Do it,” I breathe.
I barely manage a gasp before his mouth is on mine, hot, and hungry. He kisses me like he’s searching for something buried deep, and I open for him like I’ve already given him the map. He pulls away, but his hand is still touching my face in the gentlest way. His eyes search mine as if he’s waiting to see if I’m going to slap him or beg for more.
I close my eyes for a second as I try to find my breath. “What are you doing to me?”
“Trying to show you that not all mountain men are cut from the same flannel.”
This time, I reach for him, and my tongue parts his lips and then it’s all heat and hands and hunger. My hand fists in his shirt as I crawl across the seat to get in his lap. Every nerve ending is tingling and alive as his hands grip my hips, fingers splayed like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me. My knees are anchored against the seat on either side of him, and I can feel the low rumble of his breath as I rock forward—slow, testing. His erection pushes against his jeans as my aching thighs tighten around him.
He groans into my mouth, and the sound makes my entire body go taut as his lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then lower, his stubble brushing heat down my neck. My fingers slide into his hair, and I whimper as the fire inme rises.
His mouth hovers near the curve of my throat. His chest rises against mine, and his voice comes out wrecked.
“Mercy, that sound,” he says, teeth grazing my skin. “It’s gonna ruin me.”
My breath catches in my throat, a sharp intake that betrays my longing. I want this. I want him. I tug his shirt up and our mouths barely break when he tosses it to the side. Every line of muscle is hot and dewy with sweat. I can no longer maintain the charade of indifference, the façade that I don’t yearn to kiss him every single time he passes by.
I press my lips harder against his, desperate to draw him nearer, to dissolve into him completely. His hands travel up my thighs with a tantalizing slowness, and when they slip beneath my dress, an electric jolt courses through me, making me arch urgently into him.
“Faraday,” I say, husky and breathless. I barely realize what I’ve done until he freezes, his lips go still, and his hands stop roaming.
He tilts his head back. “Still can’t call me Duke, huh?” He gently brushes a stray piece of hair out of my face. The pad of his thumb skims my cheek as his gaze lingers on me.
My lips part, but I can barely speak. “I?—”
His eyes finally leave mine as he looks past me. “You know, I think we’ve had enough stimulation for one day.”
I shift, regain my composure, and slide out of his lap as he reaches for his shirt. The silence is deafening as he drives me back to the lodge, but the true gentleman he is, he opens my door, grabs all my shopping bags, and walks me back to my room. He nods and greets different residents as we head to the elevator.
“Thank you for today. I really had a wonderful time,” I say when we reach my door.
I open it, he steps and sets the bags down by the door.
“I’m sorry, I?—”
He leans in, his lips so close to me, I can almost taste them. “The day will come when you will say my name, Roxanne.” His gaze drifts to my mouth and then back to my eyes. “And when you do, we’ll finish what we started tonight because I’m going to pick you up, toss you on my bed, and take … my … time.”
He straightens, that infuriatingly calm confidence back in place, and walks away without another word, leaving me trembling in the silence he leaves behind.
big horse energy
ROXANNE
The next morning,Leo and Allie gasp when I open my door. For what feels like the longest time, they stand there, gaping at me in the hallway.
“Will you two come in,” I say, scooting them through the door. “Someone’s going to think you’re a fish and cast you a lure.”
“Sweetie!!” Allie says, throwing her arms around my neck. “You’re not hiding anymore!”
I glance down at my more sensible ensemble of jean shorts, tank top, and flannel. My scar is still mostly covered, but hey, it’s better than a turtleneck.
