“Done,” he announces once we’ve secured the fence.
My lungs finally remember their purpose.
“See?” I say, too brightly. “Easy.”
Tex’s gaze pins me. “Nothing about you is easy.”
The quiet words aren’t teasing, just a statement.
My throat goes dry. “Is that a complaint?”
His eyes flick to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “No.” The word lands with the certainty of a rock. “It’s not.”
That should make me run, but instead, it makes my pulse race.
I don’t think. I step into him, fist curling in the front of his jacket, and kiss him like the decision has already been made somewhere deeper than my mind.
It isn’t neat or cautious. It’s all hunger and collision, teeth grazing, breaths tangling. I expect him to pull back.
He doesn’t.
Tex groans, the sound low and tortured, and it rolls through me like a spark finding dry kindling. His hands come alive, firm and sure, sliding over my coat as if he needs to feel me everywhere at once, as if he’s reassuring himself that I’m real.
“Jane,” he says, a warning threaded tight with restraint.
“Tex. Please. This feels… so good.”
Something dark and decisive flashes in his eyes. He moves us back until the fence presses cool and solid against my spine, his body bracketing mine, close enough that every breath feels shared. The contrast between the cold at my back and the heat of him in front of me makes everything sharper and brighter in a good way.
“Tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel right, okay?” His voice is steady, even if the rest of him isn’t.
I nod enthusiastically, wanting more of these sensations. More of his touch. More ofhim. “I will. I promise.”
My consent is all he needs, and his head dips to mine.
His mouth claims mine again, deeper and slower this time, unraveling rather than taking. Then he trails kisses down my jaw, my throat, lingering like he’s memorizing me. My head falls back, and a soft, helpless sound slips out when his hands drift lower.
When his thigh slides between mine, my body instinctively responds, hips tilting to grind against him. A jolt of desire courses through me, sending heat to my core. My hands clutch his shoulders as if I’m holding onto a lifeline.
“Tex,” I breathe, my voice laced with a mix of need and curiosity.
His thigh presses harder between my legs, his mouth brushing my ear. “Ride my leg, darlin’. Let go.”
His voice is commanding yet gentle, urging me to lose myself in the moment. He tightens his grip on my hips, guiding my movements. He knows what I need, even if I don't.
“I've got you, Jane. Let me give you this.”
My hips move with more urgency. Tension stretches my muscles, and my breathing is choppy. He holds me tightly, his thigh pressed firmly against me, driving me closer to the edge.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he says, his voice low and encouraging. “Feel it. Feel me.”
My body trembles as my hips move faster, and I bite my lower lip to keep the sounds in.
“Tex,” I moan, my voice filled with need and surrender.
He helps me, guiding my hips, giving me the exact pressure and friction I need, his eyes dark, his focus solely on my pleasure. “Let go, Jane. Let me feel you.”
And in this stolen moment, a moment that I instigated, with the winter sunlight creating a soft haze around us, I do as he says.
