SLOANE
THE FANover my bed is making that humming sound again. How am I supposed to sleep? It’s like a bee in my ear. Even my covers feel too heavy, so I kick them off, roll onto my back, throw my arm over my head, and stare at the fan blades as they slowly rotate over my head.
Who am I kidding? I can’t sleep because all I can think of is Mason, the way I feel when I’m close to him, the way he looks at me when we’re in the same room together, I close my eyes and remember how his lips feel when they touch me.
When I’m close to him, my body isn’t mine anymore, my skin craves his touch and I just want to feel safe in his warmth and strength.
What about what he said in the laundry room today? That he thinks about me every day. When his fingers slid into the hair at the nape of my neck, there was just enoughpressure to feel like he was making a claim but not enough to feel forceful, and when his lips touched my ear, all I wanted was to reach out and touch him. I was aching to feel him.
He was right; I was soaking wet. I had to change my underwear when I got back to my room.
He says I can trust him, but what happens when he finds out I could be a possible threat to his family? To the ranch? Will I be able to trust that I won’t be out on my ass? No man in this world wants to get tangled up with a woman who is this type of threat.
The alarm app on my phone says it’s a little after one in the morning. He’s probably been asleep for hours, definitely not lying awake thinking of me. Not after I’ve pushed him away so many times.
It was like he was reading my mind when he was saying those things. I think of him first thing when I wake up and then again when I’m trying to go to sleep. Like now. If only he knew that when he asked me to trust him, I wanted to let him wrap me up in his arms and give him all of me, even my trust.
I want to tell him. Maybe if I put everything out there, he will be of the same mind as his dad. But would he want to get away from me? Would that be for the best?
I could be okay with him not wanting me anymore. Couldn’t I?
Then I wouldn’t be wide awake in the middle of the night, thinking of him, wanting him.
Wishing things were different.
It’s not like he’ll be here for long, he’s here to make sure his dad is okay and as soon as he’s not needed, he’ll leave again. He has a whole life to get back to. A life with other women, who I’m sure throw themselves at him daily, and freedom to do whatever he wants.
Not that he doesn’t have freedom now, but his obligations to his family are a bit of a hindrance to what he’s used to. I’msure the bachelor’s life has been good to him. If I lay my drama at his feet, he’ll probably look for a way out faster than I can say run away.
My chest squeezes so tight it hurts to think about him turning his back on me.
For the past couple of years, just thinking about a man touching me has made me cringe. For some reason, he’s different. Will there ever be another man that can heat my skin while easily pulling orgasm after orgasm from me like he does?
What if I’m the one making the mistake? What if I’m supposed to trust him and I’m shutting him out?
Just thinking about his touch makes me want to climb the walls to get to him. Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I grab my thin cotton robe to cover the tank and sleep shorts I’m wearing. The last thing I want to do is bump into anyone in the hall with no bra and no robe.
Staying close to the wall so I can duck behind a bookshelf or something if I need to, I tiptoe on the hardwood floor that’s cold on my feet. I never come to this part of the house at night and my heart is rattling in my ribs in fear of being seen.
There could only be one reason why I would be by the family bedrooms in the middle of the night. If Kinley were to see me out here, she would be sure to let me know what she thinks.
Now that I’m standing outside his door, I wonder if I should just wait until tomorrow to talk to him. I can feel the pull to him through the door, will he reject me? He’s not leaving for a few more weeks, I would have to face him every day knowing he doesn’t want me.
Can I take his rejection every day until he leaves? Isn’t that what I want? I back up a step, my chest squeezing. It’s true I’ve been rejecting him, but it’s because I don’t want to drag him into the mess that’s my life, not because I don’t wanthim.
This is a mistake.
Just as I turn to go back to my room, his door opens. I stop mid-turn and look back at him.
He’s holding the doorknob wearing a pair of dark sweats slung low on his hips and his perfect chest and six-pack are on display. I can’t read his face, he’s purposely keeping his expression blank, but those blue eyes are slowly moving up my bare legs and over my short robe to meet mine.
As much as I would like to listen to the part of me that is saying I should go back to my room, I can’t pull my eyes away from the perfect, muscular form that is him. All of him is big and hard and makes my heart beat a little harder, I want to touch him so bad.
His short hair is standing on end like he’s been running his hands through it and his usually clean neck has stubble on it.
For all I know, he could tell me to go back to my room and never bother him again. Why wouldn’t he? He told me that he thinks of me every day and I rejected him.
Again.
