His smile is slow and dangerous. He takes my hand, and the spark that jumps between us feels like lightning. He pulls me gently onto the floor, his hand settling at my waist, and I don’t want to move away. No, I want him to grip me even tighter.
We sway, our bodies fitting so easily together that it scares me.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper.
“Probably,” he agrees.
I slide my hand that is resting on his shoulder down his chest. My eyes follow my fingers as they graze the buttons of his flannel.
“Stormy?”
“Yeah?”
“About last night,” he says.
“Can we not?” I whisper. “I was a little tipsy.”
His eyes widen slightly.
“Okay, more than a little.”
“I just—”
The song ends, and couples start to exit the floor around us. We don’t let go right away. But eventually, I force myself to step back.
“I should go.”
“Go where?” he asks.
I glance back toward the tables, heart racing. Dixon looks up when he sees me, hopeful and kind, and guilt twists in my gut.
I turn back to Waylon. “Anywhere but here.”
“Okay,” he says, placing his hand against the small of my back. “Let’s get out of here.”
I let him lead me out of the barn. My heart pounds as we make our way across the now-darkening fairgrounds to the lit parking area. The music fading in the distance. When we reach his truck, he moves to open the passenger door for me. I stop, shutting the door and turning to face him as I second-guess the wisdom of getting in.
“Stormy?”
My eyes come to his, and his hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb caressing my bottom lip.
“You want to go back?”
I shake my head.
He steps forward, and I gasp as my back hits cool metal.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
A shiver runs through me.
“So fucking beautiful,” he repeats as his lips slide over my jaw.
I close my eyes and let myself feel.
I had it all wrong, I think to myself as my body ignites.
I’m the wildfire.
