His smile comes back bigger, and his chest puffs out. “That’s what Sloane keeps saying.” This time when he turns from me, he is happy and that makes me happy.
Turning to walk to the stables, I come face to face with Brana leaning against the tree next to the structure, watching me. His arms are crossed over his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing is hugging his swollen biceps and stretching over the dips and curves of his defined chest.
The man could be a Greek statue.
I pause for a moment and look at his strong tan arms and the tattoos that cover his skin. For the first time, I wonder what he looks like with his shirt off. Does he have tattoos all over his chest and back, too? I don’t remember wondering what a man looks like without their shirt and the thought takes me by surprise.
Lifting my eyes back up to his, I see amusement on his face. He caught me checking him out. Suddenly, it feels like the temperature went up by ten degrees, my head feels hot, and I know my face is red.
Clearing my throat, I look down at my feet and walk past him into the stables, into the familiar smell of hay, horse sweat and poop. I can hear his slow footfalls behind me as I step into the grooming stall, but he doesn’t say anything.
Since we are moving into July, the days are getting warmer and now that I’m inside the stables and the breeze has all but stopped, I can feel the sweat breaking out across my still red chest and forehead. I walk to the back of the grooming stall and push the door of the window open. The air blows across my face, cooling the beads of sweat on my forehead, and my hair blows off my face. For just a second, Iclose my eyes and appreciate the feeling.
Brana has stepped to the doorway of the grooming stall and is leaning against the frame with one foot crossed over the other and his arms across his chest again.
I can feel his eyes on me, like sunbeams making me even hotter, but I keep my head down and avoid eye contact. I’m pretty sure that what I just did outside is the first time, as an adult woman, I have ever shown any type of boldness or interest in a man and my heart is beating so hard I think he can probably hear it rattling my ribs.
Grabbing a broom, I start to walk by him again, but he pushes off the wall as he reaches out and his large hand circles my wrist, stopping me. The contact is gentle and sends warmth up my arm and I look down, his golden-tan skin is darker than mine and the scars and tattoos on his hand give him a weathered look against my softer, lighter skin.
“Lepa.” The deep baritone of his voice is soft and moves over my skin, giving me goose pimples. “Look at me, slast.” [sweetness]
Lifting my eyes to the frosty blue of his, I try not to look as embarrassed as I feel. I pull my lower lip between my teeth and focus on not looking away from him, and his eyes dip to my mouth.
He lifts his other hand and gently slides his thumb across my bottom lip, pulling it from between my teeth. That small gesture sends heat low into my belly.
“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” His gaze softly moves over my face before he locks his eyes on mine again. His thumb is lazily sliding across the skin of my wrist, sending sparks up my arm like I’ve never felt before.
When I don’t answer him, he says, “Just a look from you makes my heart soar, so imagine how high I felt when you just looked at me outside. Do you like what you see, Lepa?” He tilts his head to the side, his thumb still moving over my skin.
I swallow so loudly they probably heard me up in the main house. He’s always honest with me, always so cautious and respectful. I want to be honest with him in return. I don’t think I could speak right now if I tried, so I just nod my head.
Without taking his eyes from mine, he grasps the broom in my hand and leans it against the wall next to us. “I want to kiss you so badly right now, will you let me kiss you?”
All sounds around me are drowned out by the sound of my blood whooshing in my ears, he links the fingers of the hand that just set the broom aside with mine as he waits for me to answer.
I whisper, “Yes.” With a small nod.
Letting go of my wrist, he cups my cheek, his thumb slides across my skin as he whispers, “Da sam danas umro, umro bih srec´an covek.” [If I died today, I would die a happy man]
The breath from his whisper ghosts across my lips as his eyes volley between mine.
His lips are soft and warm, and I close my eyes to let myself feel him, feel his lips, his hands holding me, his breath on my cheek, and his hard chest against mine. Desire floods my center, the strength of it makes all my nerve endings stand up and reach for him.
Pulling my fingers from his, I slide my palms up his arms to his shoulders as I roll up onto my toes. His hand that I just freed wraps around my waist, pulling me into him, his large palm is warm on my back. Every part of me feels alive. He slowly slides his tongue across my bottom lip, requesting permission, asking for me to open, and I meet him halfway.
The heat and desire overtaking me is making my head spin and I want to see all of him. The strength of those feelings surprises me, and I gasp as I break the kiss, leaning back just enough to make eye contact with him.
His lips tip up on one side as his eyes move between mine. “You okay?”
“MmHm.” Except that my panties are wet, holy shit, my panties are wet. I suppress the smile that is trying to spread across my face. I almost feel like a normal woman with normal woman issues.
Humor dances in his eyes. “Did you like that?”
“MmHm.”
He’s looking at me like he can read my mind. My face flushes bright red and I cover my lips with the fingers of one hand.
Tipping his head back, he laughs, and his arm tightens around my waist. “It’s suddenly very hot in here, no?”
