The soft light from the table lamp caught the gold flecks in her eyes as she looked up at me. Something about being here, in her personal space, made everything feel more significant. This wasn’t some hookup in a bar or even the heated moments we’d stolen at the ranch. This was something else entirely.
“I like you being here,” she whispered. “Even if you make it look doll house size.”
“Well, I hope the bed is big enough because I have plans.” I pulled her closer and dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips. She smiled against my mouth. “Do I get to devour you for hours now?”
“Absolutely.” And then she turned and led me out of the lounge.
Her bedroom continued the theme of the lounge—bookshelves, soft fabrics, and a large bed covered in a quilt that looked handmade. Photos lined her dresser, Cassidy with groups of kids, an older woman who had to be her mother based on the matching smile, and one of Cassidy as a child on a farm, a small goat standing beside her. There was also a guy wearing jeans and a denim shirt standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. They were both grinning for whoever was taking the picture, probably her mom.
“Your parents?” I asked, nodding toward the photos.
She nodded, something soft crossing her face. The way she looked at the photo, there was so much love there. Loss too. It made me think of my own mom and the fact that we didn’t talk about her enough at home. Didn’t celebrate her enough, well maybe that should change.
“Strange,” Cassidy said with a sigh, “even though both pictures were taken years apart, both were a year before they passed away.”
When she inhaled, I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder as we both looked at the photos. “You have your mom’s smile and the same eyes as your dad.”
“Everyone said that about me and Mom.” She turned in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest. “And she always said that me and Dad were the only two people she knew whose eyes were the same color as Macallan.”
“Has always been my favorite whisky,” I replied. “Your mom was right.”
Cassidy narrowed those Macallan colored eyes on me. “You really want to talk about my mom right now?”
“No,” I admitted, dipping my head to brush my lips against hers. “But I want to know everything about you, Cassidy Turner. All the parts that make you who you are.”
She made a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as her fingers tangled in my hair. “Later,” she whispered against my mouth. “Right now, I want you to stop talking.”
When our lips met this time, there was nothing cautious about it. No worry that someone would walk in on us. This was a kiss with intent, with promise. Her tongue slid against mine as her body pressed closer, seeking contact. My hands found her hips, pulling her against me so she could feel exactly what she was doing to me.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” I said against her neck, my teeth grazing the sensitive spot below her ear. The spot that made her squirm in the best possible way.
Her head fell back, giving me better access. “Me too. Ever since you pushed me against your bedroom wall and gave me a hint of what was to come.”
Slowly, I walked her backward until we reached the bed and immediately my fingers found the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one. Every one revealed inch after inch of soft skin and when I pushed the fabric from her shoulders, she shivered, but not from cold.
“Your turn,” she murmured, her hands already working at the buttons of my shirt.
There was something so damn sexy about the way she bit her lip in concentration as her fingers brushed against my chest with each button she released. When she pushed my shirt off, her hands splayed across my chest, tracing the muscles there with appreciation.
“You know all those times I saw you working around the ranch,” she confessed, her fingertips trailing down to my stomach, “I wondered what you’d look like without your shirt.”
“You didn’t even like me most of those times.”
“Still imagined it.”
“And?” I couldn’t help the smirk.
“Better,” she admitted, her hands moving to my belt. “And I have a pretty good imagination.”
The sound of my belt buckle releasing sent a jolt of anticipation through me. But instead of rushing, I caught her hands, bringing them to my lips.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” I whispered. “We’ve got all night.” I’d never cared about going slow before. It was always about the finish line. But, with her, I wanted to memorize every second, every sound, every expression.
Just like the smile she was giving me; it was both shy and wicked. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
I lowered her onto the bed, following her down until I was hovering above her, supported on my forearms. This close, I could see every detail of her face, the light freckles across hernose, the flecks of amber in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips. I wanted to memorize all of it. Her eyes drifted shut and something moved in my chest. This wasn’t just about release anymore. Every touch, every kiss felt like a confession that I wasn’t brave enough to make with words.
