“Oh.” My cheeks warm. “Well then,” I back away, offering him a lopsided smile as I go. “I’ll just change and get out of your hair.”
“I want you to come with me.”
I gulp. “I guess it would look good for them to see us together. Especially, you know, so early in the day. Hot and heavy, right?” The joke tastes bad in my mouth and I force myself not to wrinkle my nose.
Wes stares at me for a long moment, and I’d give almost anything to be able to see into that mind of his. “Right,” he says, drawing out the word. I know there is so much more behind that simple, one-word response.
“Should we talk about last night?” I blurt out. So much for keeping the good times rolling a little longer.
Wes hesitates, then says, “I suppose so.”
He watches me, waiting. I cross my arms and nod at him. “You talk first.”
“I guess we should decide what sleeping with each other meant, and what it means to our agreement, right?”
“Yes.”
Wes regards me for longer than I’d like, but at least he’s not stoic. If anything, he’s the very opposite of stoic. Expressions flit across his face. Squinting eyes, taut cheeks, twisting lips. It’s like he’s having an entire conversation in his head, teasing out every possible outcome like a game of chess.
Then he takes a step toward me. And two more, until only inches separate us. “I want the ranch, there’s no doubt about it. And I want to help you out, too. But last night did something to me.” He palms his chest. “You made space in here, and I feel like it’s easier to breathe.”
My pulse thrums at his admission.
His eyes stay focused on mine, but he reaches for me. His fingers skirt my wrist, slide up my forearm. It all feels… inevitable. Last night and right now, both are conclusions I should’ve seen coming. No matter what we did along the way, this was always going to be where we ended up.
His fingers feather up my arm, over my shoulder, down my side, sliding over the fabric of my T-shirt. He stops at my hip bone, his fingers digging in, pulling me until my body is flush with his. My skin is hot, a burning molten liquid, and I fill in every line of him until there is no way to tell us apart. His arm wraps around my lower back, holding me in place, while his other hand roams my hips, my side, my backside.
There’s an electric buzzing in the air, or maybe it’s just inside me but it’s so loud it feels like it’s all around us. My arms wrap around Wes’s shoulders, my fingernails skating the back of his neck. He shudders, and it reminds me of the tightening of his muscles when he came last night. I drag one fingernail up his neck, across his chin, landing on his bottom lip.
My breath is heavy, and the heat of his exhale seeps into my skin. He pulls my finger into his mouth and bites down gently. A low moan rolls around my throat. The buzzing in the air gets louder.
I take back my finger and brush my lips lightly against his. His gaze is dark and hot, and his heart beats furiously against my chest.
He must decide he’s finished with the prelude because his hand rises to cup the back of my head and he presses his lips to mine. He is sweet, and then not. Gentle, and then turbulent, and I’m matching him in every way. This toe-curling intensity and overwhelming desire makes me wonder if there was a live wire connecting us these past five years.
His tongue urges my mouth open, and he swipes inside. A low, guttural moan fills the crisp morning air and I’m not sure if it was me or him who made the sound. His hands leave my back and my head, finding my thighs, dipping under the fabric of my shorts and pushing the soft fabric up as high as it will go. I rip my mouth away to breathe, tipping my chin to the porch ceiling, and Wes leans in, taking the opportunity to drag the tip of his tongue up my neck, and nip along my jawbone.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” he murmurs against my skin.
“The same thing you’re doing to me.”
His teeth graze my earlobe and he sighs, pulling back to look down at me. There’s a new look in his eyes. Something tender and vulnerable.
I lean in, my lips tracing a design over his chest. His breath hisses through my hair. “Someone once said it’s not a good idea to mix business with pleasure.” My low voice tumbles against him, and my actions make it clear to both of us what I think of my words.
“That someone can go fuck themselves.” He moves quickly, lifting me off my feet and throwing me over his shoulder.
“Please tell me you’re taking me to the bedroom,” I moan my plea against his back.
“Right now, Dakota, there is no other place for us.”
My heart melts at the wordus.
I think I might be royally screwed. Literally and figuratively.
* * *
Beau is standingin the dining room, reaching into a bowl of berries, when we come through the back door. I get the feeling there isn’t a ton that could surprise the man, but I’m pretty sure we’ve managed to.
