“It’s been a stressful night.” My voice comes out breathy.
“Has it?” He steps even closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Or is it something else?”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stand there, caught between Jesse in front of me and the memory of Wyatt’s hands on my body, while Boone watches from the side with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before.
“Jesse,” Wyatt says again, but there’s something different in his voice now. Less warning, more... acceptance?
“What?” Jesse doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m just asking questions.”
“You’re pushing.”
“Maybe she likes being pushed.” His thumb strokes along my wrist, and I shiver. “Do you like being pushed, Callie?”
I open my mouth to answer, but no words come outbecause the truth is, God help me, I do. I like the way Jesse crowds into my space, the way Wyatt’s hands feel possessive on my skin, the way Boone looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Because the way I see it,” Jesse continues, “you’ve been pushing back pretty hard. Fighting us every step of the way.”
“I’m not fighting anything.” The lie is so obvious, it’s laughable.
“Jesse,” Boone says quietly, and there’s something different in his voice. Something serious and heated that makes me look at him. He’s moved closer too, and in the dim light, I see how his jaw is clenched, and the way his hands are fisted at his sides like he’s fighting for control.
“What, Boone?”
“She’s scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I protest, but my voice shakes as I say it.
“You are,” Boone says, moving closer still. Now I’m basically surrounded with Jesse in front, Boone to my right, and Wyatt behind me to the left. “This is hot.”
“This is stupid,” I say, but the word comes out weak.
“Same thing, sometimes.” Boone’s hand comes to rest on my lower back, and the touch is gentle but it still burns.
Now all three of them are close enough to touch, and I feel like I’m drowning in cowboy testosterone.
“We should go,” I say weakly.
“Should we?” Jesse asks, and his thumb brushes over my pulse point again. “Or should we stop pretending we don’t all want the same thing?”
“What do we all want?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“You.” The words are simple, but they hit like a lightning bolt.
My pulse is hammering so hard, I’m sure they can all hear it. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because... because we’re supposed to be enemies. Because you can’t all want?—”
“We can,” Wyatt says roughly from behind me. “And we do.”
I turn to look at him, and the hunger in his eyes takes my breath away. “Since when?”
“Since you stood up to me about that goat. Since you threw chili at Jesse. Since you made Boone laugh during the three-legged-race practice.” His voice is rough, honest. “Since you became impossible to ignore.”
“What?” I breathe. “I grew up next door to you. You didn’t just discover me.”
“Let’s just say,” Jesse agrees, leaning closer, “little Callie Thompson is finally all grown up.”
