I don’t want to be chosen for a performance. I want to be chosen for this.
Tex watches me, breathing slow and controlled, like he’s holding himself back by force. “What do you want, Jane?”
I swallow hard. “You.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, as if he’s making sure I mean it.
“Jane,” he says quietly, “if you say that?—”
“I know.” I don’t, not fully, but I know enough. “I’m saying it anyway.”
Tex’s hand slides up my side, fingers spreading along my ribs under the hem of his shirt, and my whole body reacts like it’s been waiting for that touch for years.
Heat coils low in my belly. I make a soft, surprised sound.
His eyes flash. “Tell me to stop.”
“I’m not going to,” I say shakily.
His nostrils flare, and his gaze locks on mine like he’s trying to decide if he’s allowed to want this too.
I lean in and kiss him first. Slowly and intentionally, my mouth finding his like I’m proving something to myself.
Tex goes still for half a second, then his hand clamps around my waist and he pulls me closer, hard enough that I gasp into his mouth.
His kiss turns hungry instantly, like restraint is something he’s been white-knuckling for hours. His tongue sweeps against mine, and he tastes of coffee and smoke and something intense that makes my knees weak.
My body lights up, every nerve buzzing. I clutch his shoulders, my fingers digging into muscle, because I don’t know what to do with this much sensation.
Tex’s groan slides straight to my core.
He breaks the kiss abruptly, forehead pressing to mine, breath hot. “Jesus.”
I blink, dazed. “Good morning to you too.”
His mouth twitches, and humor flickers in his eyes like a match before they darken again. “You’re playing with fire, darlin’.”
My heart pounds. “So are you.”
His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips to my throat, then lower. “You sure?”
I nod fast. Too fast.
He catches it. Of course he does. His hand lifts to my cheek. “Your words, Jane.”
“I’m sure. I want you.”
His eyes hold mine. “That’s not what I asked.”
I stare at him, my breath shallow. God, he’s careful. Controlled. He’s making me face the truth instead of letting me barrel through it like I always do.
“I’m…” I swallow. “I’m scared.”
Tex brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. “Of me?”
“No,” I say immediately. “Of this. Of wanting something so much it could wreck me.”
His gaze softens a fraction. “You don’t have to do anything today you don’t want.”
