His soft laugh isn’t amusement, it’s disbelief.
“Because I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he says, brushing his nose against mine.“But every time you look at me like that, I forget how to breathe.”
Heat coils low in my stomach.
Dancing has never felt so close to kissing.
The song melts into another slow one, and he tightens his hold, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck.
Then he kisses me.
Slow. Gentle. A searching brush of lips that steals my breath.
Then deeper, his hand guiding me closer, his thumb stroking the pulse beating beneath my ear. I feel like I’m dissolving into him.
Someone whistles. Someone cheers. Penny claps.
But Ethan doesn’t stop, not right away.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, breath warm on my mouth.
“God, Summer,” he whispers.
“I’m never letting you go.”
And I believe him.
We’re in the car when Ethan slows to a gentle crawl, the night pressing in soft and warm around us. He turns, and the dashboard light paints gold across his cheekbones.
“Summer.”
My name comes out of him like a confession. His eyes burn intomine, steady, asking, offering.“We can go back to the ranch, and I’ll walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight, and wait for morning like a patient man.”
His hand comes to my cheek, thumb brushing me like I’m something fragile and precious.
“But I don’t want to let you go yet,” he murmurs, voice low.“If you want… come over. We can talk, watch a movie… whatever you want, as long as I get to hold you. Whatever you choose, I’m good with it.”
Something inside me melts and clicks into place at the same time. Being with him feels like exhaling after holding my breath for years.
“I don’t want this night to end either.”
His answering smile is slow and warm, like honey sliding down the edge of a mug. He brings my hand to his lips, kisses it once, soft, reverent, then laces our fingers and places them on my thigh as he turns back onto the road.
We drive past the ranch, the gravel crunching under the tires, the moon glinting off the fields as the world near us grows quieter, softer.
When the trees part, his home appears.
A beautiful wooden house with a deep wraparound porch, wide steps, hanging ferns swaying gently in the breeze, warm golden lights glowing from the windows like it’s been waiting for us.
“Here we are.”
Ethan parks, cuts the engine, and gives me a smile that is all warmth and promise.
I take in the house, its wide beams, hand-carved railing, rocking chairs, and a wooden swing on the porch.
It looks like a place where love settles into the floorboards, where laughter echoes, where someone once dreamed of a family.
Ethan gets out, walks around the car, and opens my door like he’s been doing it all his life. His hand finds mine again, fingers curling around my palm like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
