Jake’s mouth quirked. “Nothing wrong with being tough.”
“Except when it keeps you from letting peoplein.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He looked at me then, really looked at me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Not letting people in?”
“Aren’t you?” I challenged gently. “You’ve lived here four and a half years, Jake. In all that time, how many friends have you made? How many people know the real you?”
He leaned back, his jaw tightening. “The real me isn’t much to know.”
“I disagree.” I shifted closer, the space between us narrowing. “I think there’s a lot more to Jake Brennen than meets the eye.”
He huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, what you see is what you get. Broken rancher with too much baggage and not enough sense to quit while he’s ahead.”
“That’s not what I see,” I said softly.
His eyes met mine again, wary now. “What do you see, then?”
I hesitated, then said, “I see someone who’s been hurt, who lost everything, and still shows up when others need him. I see someone who carries my sleeping daughter to bed and installs security systems and stays up all night with a rifle because he’s worried about us.” I swallowed hard. “I see you, Jake.”
The air between us changed, charged withsomething I hadn’t felt in years—maybe had never truly felt before. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“Ella,” he said, my name a warning and a question all at once.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
For one heartbeat, he went utterly still. Then his hand came up to cradle my face, and he was kissing me back with an intensity that stole my breath. His lips were warm, firm, moving against mine with a restraint that told me he was holding back. I slid my fingers into his hair, urging him closer.
He made a sound low in his throat, almost a groan, and suddenly his arms were around me, pulling me against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering through the thin fabric of my robe, matching the frantic pace of my own.
The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing mine, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him. My head spun with the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, desired—of being seen exactly as I was and not found wanting.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Jake rested his forehead against mine, his hands still tangled in my hair.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, though he made no move to pull away.
“Why not?” I countered, my fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw.
His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. “Because you’re... and I’m...” He shook his head. “I’m not what you need, Ella. Not now, not with everything that’s happening.”
“I think I’m the one who gets to decide what I need.” I pulled back just enough to see his face clearly. “And right now, I need this. I need you.”
Something flashed in his eyes—desire, fear, I couldn’t tell which. His thumb brushed my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not... I haven’t been with anyone since Avril. And even before that, I wasn’t exactly...” He trailed off, frustration etched in the lines of his face.
“I’m not asking for anything,” I said softly. “Just this moment. Just you and me, right now.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. His hands slid down to my waist, drawing me back to him. This time when our lips met, there was no hesitation, only heat and hunger and the desperate need to forget everything but each other.
I found myself in his lap, my robe parting to reveal my thin cotton nightgown underneath. His hands moved to the curve of my hip, the small of my back, tracing fire wherever they touched. I archedinto him, wanting more, needing to be closer.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, and I gasped at the sensation. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. When I finally managed to open it, I splayed my hands across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, the warmth of him.
“Ella,” he breathed against my collarbone. “We should slow down.”
I knew he was right, but my body disagreed vehemently. Every nerve ending was alive, singing with a desire I’d thought long forgotten. I pressed myself closer, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal beneath me.
“I don’t want to slow down,” I whispered, nipping gently at his earlobe.
