And Tex’s face is inches from mine.
His breath is visible in the cold; each exhale slow and controlled.
Mine isn’t.
I stare at him, stunned, cheeks burning despite the cold.
“You okay?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My body is suddenly a live wire, and my brain is ten steps behind.
Tex’s gaze drops to my lips. Then back to my eyes.
“Jane,” he says, like a warning.
I swallow hard. “Tex.”
His jaw tightens. His grip on my waist shifts, adjusting as if he’s trying not to hold too hard.
And I can’t seem to make myself move.
I should push up. Laugh it off and make a joke. Do anything other than stare at him like I’m about to do something reckless.
Instead, I say, “You caught me.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Anythin’ hurt?”
“Just my pride,” I say automatically.
The air between us tightens. The world narrows. The cold doesn’t exist anymore.
All I feel is his heat beneath me, his arm around my waist, and the way his gaze holds mine as if he’s trying to decide whether to cross a line.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
Tex’s hand slides up my back, fingers splaying over my shoulder blade like he can’t help it. Then he shifts, and the movement presses me close enough to feel the hard line of his chest, the strength in him, the restraint.
His voice is strained. “If you keep lookin’ at me like that?—”
“Like what?” I whisper because I need him to say it.
His eyes flash. “Like you want me to kiss you.”
My breath catches. I don’t deny it. I can’t.
Tex’s gaze drops to my mouth again, and this time, he doesn’t look away. He cups my jaw gently. “Jane, can I kiss you?”
I meet his eyes. “Yes. Please.”
Something shifts in his expression, not relief, exactly, but recognition, as if I just gave him something he was afraid to take.
When his mouth claims mine, it’s not gentle or exploratory. It’s rough, startling, and hungry.
I’ve read about kisses, but I’ve never been kissed. Not properly. Not like this.
I’ve flirted. Thrown sass like darts and used humor like armor. I’ve had men look at me. But this kiss feels like something that could rearrange me.
I make a soft sound, and he groans like he’s been holding back for years. His arm tightens around my waist while his other hand slides up my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as if he needs something to hold on to while he kisses me like he means it.
