She paused as the breeze flirted over the sunburnt soils and scrublands.
Why was Dixby Downs left as a deserted cattle station—in the heart of cattle country?And why was this shed built and ready to go, to become the perfect place to hide a stash of stolen crocodiles?
And how is it that the fences were still in good condition, and the water tanks were full, with the nearby windmill and pumps oiled as if resting between uses?
She removed her hat and smoothed down her hair, ensuring her tight hair-bun was in place, yet something was amiss with this place.
‘Are we working on the same case?’Because it was a station that had involved stolen livestock.
Porter rolled his eyes.‘Took you long enough to realise that’s something amiss in this place.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Would you have listened?’
‘I’m listening now.’Because Porter was proving to be nothing like she’d expected.
Porter tilted his head to study her.Not like a cop, and not like someone amused by her temper—but as if he saw something in her she wasn’t ready to see in herself.
‘Good,’ he murmured, stepping closer, their hat brims barely millimetres apart.‘Because I was starting to think I’d have to write that on your list too—rule number six:must actually listen.’
She rolled her eyes, but her pulse kicked up, betraying her.
‘I listen just fine.’Ha!When she’d lost count of where they were with the rules.
‘Do you?’His voice dropped lower, rougher even.‘Because I’ve been saying something for a while now.Just not out loud.’
Her breath caught as the air between them suddenly changed, thickened and somehow became electric.
They were close—too close.She could feel his body heat, mingling with his spicy herbaceous scent that had such an earthy undertone, loaded with masculinity.It was unmistakably him and sensationally delicious.It was a freaking turn-on.
She should’ve stepped back and shut this down before it spiralled into something she couldn’t control.
Instead, her feet stayed planted, her chin tipped up defiantly as his gaze flicked to her lips.It may have been just for a second, but she felt it like a touch.That tender caress of a lover’s kiss, that had her toes curling in her shoes.
‘Tell me to stop.’His voice was softer, tender, yet unreadable.
Hell’s bells.It only made her mouth water, and her throat tighten.She opened her mouth to tell him to stop.But nothing came out.
Only for the smug slacker to remove his cap and smirk—just enough to make her want to wipe it off his face—so she did it.
Or maybe he did.
She wasn’t sure who moved first, but their lips met.
Holy hotcakes and caramel sauce—she’d never expected Porter to kiss her.Especiallythe wayhe kissed, with confidence, heat, and a little too much enjoyment at getting under her skin.
He had to be teasing her.
It had to be a test.
One where she should pull away and walk back to her car.Not crush her lips over his, as his tongue traced the seam to part for him.There he took full advantage, with a sweep of his tongue deepening the kiss that was bold, unhurried, and thorough.
Amara let out a soft hum that shot straight to her core, melting against him, as her hands slid over the cool material covering his muscular chest, to fist his shirt, pulling him closer, lips to lips, and kept on kissing.
He gave a grunt of approval, as he let her take what she wanted, before deepening their kiss even further, making her lips tingle from the pressure, along with every slide of his tongue.
Her teeth grazed his bottom lip—accidental, or not—and he groaned into her like it broke something loose inside him.His fingers brushed the side of her jaw, then slid into her hair, anchoring her there, while her bun came loose.
