"And why is that?"
I scramble for an answer. "We work together. I don't want to be a distraction."
The way his eyes darken screams trouble. They glint with this unholy light that sears me all the way to my damn soul.
"I'll take your concerns under consideration," he says, stepping onto my front porch. My sign is missing again, dammit. But he doesn't give me time to complain about that before he dips his head, his lips less than an inch from mine. "But we both know if I slipped my hand in your panties right now, they'd be soaked for me, Sunshine. You want this. I'm going to prove just how much you want it."
"I…I…" I can't even find the words to formulate a lie, and he knows it, dammit.
"Tell me no if you don't want this."
I try to form the word. Honestly, I do. But it won't come.
He notices. His eyes light up, his grin growing half a second before his lips come down on mine, his kiss somehow soft and possessive at the same damn time. And when he flicks his tongue against mine in a demand for entrance, I don't deny him.
He groans, his hands tightening on me, as he kisses the breath from my lungs, replacing it with his taste, his scent…and the absolute certainty that I am fucked.
"Damn, Sunshine," he rasps against my lips. "Been wanting to do that since you showed up here."
I just moan in response.
He kisses me again, so thoroughly I forget my own name. By the time he backs off, I'm breathing hard, clutching at his broad shoulders like he's the only thing rooting me to reality.
"Get some rest," he whispers a moment later, carefully easing me to my feet. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Walker, I—"
He doesn't give me time to finish whatever I was going to say. He simply touches my cheek and strides away. It's only when he's disappearing around the corner that I notice the tear in his sleeve and the blood trickling down his wrist.
"Holy…" I gape after him, shocked. He got hurt out there? He never said anything! He just carried me all the way home while bleeding and never said a word.
My heart stutters, my reservations about him crumbling to dust at my feet.
Crap. I am so utterly and thoroughly screwed.
Chapter Eight
Walker
Letty tries like hellto avoid me over the next several days, but I do not make it easy for her. When I'm waiting outside her front door to escort her to the kitchen at her usual time that evening, she immediately catches on to my plan.
The next morning, I'm not even halfway to her place when I see her darting across the yard to the mess hall like the hounds of hell are nipping at her heels.
I just chuckle and follow behind her. To my delight, she doesn't tack another sign to her door, banishing me from her space. It's the biggest indication yet that she wants me, even if she is trying to fight it.
When she's busy beating eggs, I pin her against the counter, kissing all over her neck. She melts like butter, whimpering in a way that has my dick desperate for a taste.
I don't try to take it, not yet. I want her to want me the same goddamn way I want her. I want her wild for me. When she is, I'll give her what she's trying so damn hard to pretend she doesn't want. In the meantime, I play dirty, the way only a cowboy can.
I arrive an hour early to escort her to the kitchen for dinner. She looks shocked as hell when she opens the door and finds me already on her porch, leaning against the post.
"I thought you were working," she grumbles.
"I was." I grin, pushing away from the post. "But something told me that you'd be ready to rush off to the kitchen right about now, so here I am."
"Here you are," she agrees. She doesn't sound happy about it, but she can't hide the way she steals glances at me all the way across the yard, either.
Once we're in the kitchen, she immediately goes to work. I try to help, but I think I'm mostly in her way. When she bumps into me for the third time, she threatens my life.
