“There isn’t.” His hands come up to frame my face. “We’ve tried everything legal, Bree. Banks won’t lend, markets are shit, and the big operations are driving prices so low that honest ranchers can’t compete. So we take from those who have too much and make sure the little guys survive.”
“You could go to prison.”
“Better than watching everything die.” His thumb traces across my cheekbone. “But now you know why we can’t have you involved. Why we need you to stay away.”
“No.” The word comes out fiercer than I intended. “I’m not running this time. I’m not letting you and Truett carry this alone.”
“Goddammit, Bree…”
“I mean it.” I grab his wrists, holding his hands against my face. “I won’t be pushed away again. Not by you, not by anyone.”
He stares at me for a long moment, something dark and hungry flickering in his eyes. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”
Before I can respond, his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss is desperate, angry, full of years of frustration and longing. I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he devours me like a man starved. The rain continues to pour down on us, but I barely notice. All I can feel is Jesse, his heat, his strength, the way he kisses me like he’s trying to brand me as his.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His green eyes are black with desire.
“We need to get inside,” he rasps. “Before you freeze to death.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. He takes my hand and pulls me toward the house, both of us running through the rain. By the time we reach the porch, we’re both soaked to the bone and shivering.
Jesse fumbles with the keys, his hands shaking, whether from cold or something else, I can’t tell. The moment the door opens, he pulls me inside and slams it shut behind us. We stand there dripping in his entryway, staring at each other.
“Bree,” he starts, but I silence him with another kiss.
This time, I’m the one in control. I push him back against the door, my tongue sliding against his as I pour seven years of want into the kiss. He groans low in his throat, his hands tangling in my wet hair.
“Upstairs,” I whisper against his lips. “Now.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his throat as he takes the stairs two at a time.
His bedroom is dark except for the lightning flashing outside the windows. He sets me down gently, his hands immediately going to the zipper of my raincoat. I help him shrug it off, then reach for the hem of his wet T-shirt.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks as I pull the shirt over his head. My breath catches at the sight of him, all lean muscle and intricate tattoos that I want to trace with my tongue. “Because once we do this, there’s no going back.”
Instead of answering, I reach behind me and unzip my dress, letting it pool at my feet. His eyes go wide, taking in every curve of my body in the dim light.
“Jesus, Bree.” His voice is reverent as his gaze settles on the heart-shaped birthmark on my breast. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
Heat floods through me at the look in his eyes. “Then stop talking and touch me.”
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hands are everywhere, skimming over my skin, reacquainting himself with every dip and curve. When his mouth follows the path of his hands, I arch beneath him, my fingers threading through his dark hair.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs against my throat. “Even when I tried to hate you for leaving, I still wanted you.”
“I never stopped wanting you either,” I confess, gasping as his teeth graze the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Not once. Not since I was a teenager.”
He lifts his head to look at me, his green eyes intense. “Then why did you leave?”
The question hangs between us, heavy with years of hurt and misunderstanding. I reach up to cup his face, my thumb stroking across his cheekbone.
“Because I was scared,” I admit. “Scared of what I felt for you. Scared of being trapped in a life I wasn’t ready for. Scared of disappointing everyone.”
“You could never disappoint me.” He presses a soft kiss to my palm. “You came back. That’s all that matters now.”
“Jesse…” I pull his face down to mine, kissing him with everything I have. This time, it’s not desperate or angry. It’s tender, full of promise and forgiveness and hope for what we might build together.
When we finally break apart, the storm outside has begun to quiet, the thunder growing more distant. Jesse’s forehead rests against mine, our breathing slowly returning to normal.
