I shift my hand, and my palm touches her thigh.
Quickly, I start to pull it back. I’m not sure she’s ready for me to be touching her naked skin yet. Without breaking our kiss, she grabs my wrist and puts it back, hitching it up a little higher, just beneath her hem.
God, she feels good.
Kissing escalates to making out in less than a minute. She kicks off her cowboy boots, and I unhitch the seat, sliding it back to make room. Then, she’s on my lap, her thighs around my waist. Her hands run through my hair, and my hands are all over her bare hips and thighs. She doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, it’s the opposite.
I’m hard, there’s no way around it. Hopefully, she can’t feel it.
I fucking can; I might blow any second. We pull apart for a breath, and she smiles, flushed, hair messy in my fingers.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Sorry about fucking what?” I say. “Come here. Give me some more of that.”
If tomorrow morning, I run into Andy and he asks me if I respected his daughter, I will not be looking him in the eyes when I answer. I don’t think making out this hard is really a first date activity. Hell, maybe it is. I’ve been out of the dating field for a while. But she’s feisty, and as turned on as I am, it’s a recipe for things getting hot and heavy fast. I think we should probably stick to kissing right now. It’s good we do, because if she starts grinding those hips into my lap, I’m coming in my pants right here.
The windows steam over. I keep my hands no further than the lace edges of her panties. I keep the top of her dress on, even though I’m dying to unbutton it.
We’re both dazed about an hour later, when we finally resurface. Through the dark, I find the glow of the time on the dashboard. Goddamn, it’s after midnight.
“Reckon we should get back,” I say.
I brush her hair from her eyes. Her mouth is a little swollen, and I think I put a hickey on her neck. Gently, I run my thumb over the faint pink mark on her skin. I like it, knowing I put that there.
“Yeah, probably should,” she whispers.
Awkwardly, I lift her out of my lap and smooth down her skirt. She’s blushing so hard, biting at her lower lip. I start the truck and roll down the windows to clear the steam. Then, I lean over and put her cowboy boots back on.
“Ready?” I ask.
She sneaks her hand across the seat. I take it, winding my fingers through hers, and pull out onto the street. Neither of us talk much on the drive back, and I like that we don’t have to. A little bit outside town, around the part where I turn off onto the state route, she shifts her thumb to my pulse point on the underbelly of my wrist.
We don’t say a word, but she feels my heart beat fast for her all the way home.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JANIE
My heart seems like it’s beating on the tip of my tongue. His fingers in mine are so big, so rough, but so damn gentle. All I want to do is cling to them all night and never let go. But we’re almost to my porch, and then it’ll be time to say goodnight. That breaks my heart.
I need for tonight not to end.
He stops at the bottom of my front steps. I turn, clearing my throat. His broad body towers over mine, and I can make out the glint of his eyes in the moonlight.
“I guess this is you,” he says.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I guess so.”
Silence. A night bird screams, and the cattle low in response.
“We could walk a little more,” he says.
My eyes flick past him, up to the heavy silver disk of the moon behind his head. In a barrage, I remember how long it took for me and Shane to get together, how he was putting out signals and I wasn’t so sure, even though I wanted him. How it took him ages to convince me to sleep with him, and the next morning, I was so confused and disappointed, because while it felt good,something was off. And then, I convinced myself this was just how sex was—mechanical and disconnected.
I fought so hard to make that relationship work. Now that it’s done, I feel so silly for pursuing it in the first place.
But this, with him, is different.
