“I didn’t want you to think your friendshipwasn’t enough or I had ulterior motives. And I swear if you say no, I won’t hold it against you. I’ll remain your best friend… if you still want me to be.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I laugh, sniffling. “You know what’s funny?”
He shakes his head.
“All summer long, I wondered how I could confess my love without ruining our friendship,” I admit.
His brows rise, confusion in his eyes transforming into understanding. Then into heat. He cages me in his arms and pulls my body against his. My breasts push into his hard, muscular chest.
A shiver passes through me. We’ve hugged before. We’ve even shared a horse on the ranch. But this is different.
I feel like that time I tried a sip of moonshine. Too hot. Burning up from inside. A tug lingers low in my belly and flames run through my veins.
“Is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?” he rumbles.
“Though I should know better than to fall for an outlaw,” I tease breathlessly.
In truth, Rust is the furthest from an outlaw any man has ever been. He’s the sweetest guy.
His eyes flick to my lips. “Do you know better?”
I shake my head.
His lips brush mine, but he hesitates. “Can I kiss you?”
“I’ll strangle you with my guitar strings if you don’t.”
He smirks. “As a warning: you’re my first kiss. I’ll probably suck.”
“I won’t notice cause you’re my first, too.”
“Good. Then I won’t have to rip out the tongues of the guys you kissed before.”
His possessiveness surprises me, but his mouth meets mine before I can ask if he means that part, too.
My first kiss with my best friend jumpstarts every nerve in my body. I close my eyes. Soon, I can’t hear the rain or the radio anymore.
There’s only the rhythm of our bodies. The melody of our breaths and our lips.
Our first kiss fills me with music.
My hands find his chest and his pulse races under my palm. When I open up to him, his tongue tangles clumsily with mine. He tastes like vanilla ice cream.
Rust crushes me to his chest. “You’re so hot, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’d take you right here, right now, but I wanna bide my time.”
He pulls back, framing my flushed face with both hands. “When I finally make you mine, I want you to be comfortable. I’ll wait until you’re ready, Trouble.”
“Let’s take it slow and enjoy all our firsts together.”
I pluck the flowers from the fretboard of my guitar and carefully put them next to his hat. Humming, I slide the instrument onto my lap. “Can I play something for you?”
Rust turns off the radio. “Do I know the song?”
“Not unless you can read my mind. I just came up with it.”
I’ve never written my own music before. Not for lack of trying, but everything sounded like a knockoff of some other track.
As my fingers pluck the strings, I can feel it in my bones:
