I threw back the covers, forcing the thoughts from my mind as I sprung out of bed. I wanted to be dressed before Dante got back. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt fate by letting him see me in just my pajama pants.
I pulled on my jeans and was halfway through buttoning my shirt when the bathroom door opened. Steam billowed out, carrying the scent of expensive soap with a masculine edge.
Dante emerged with a towel slung low around his hips, water still beading on his shoulders. His dark hair was slicked back, and in the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, I could see every line and curve of his body. He wasn’t just fit, he wascarved. His entire body was all lean muscle and smooth olive skin marked here and there with scars that told stories I didn’t want to know.
I should’ve looked away. I meant to look away.
But I stood there like an idiot, fingers frozen on my third button, as he walked past me to his duffel bag. He didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge my staring. He just reached down and…
The towel dropped.
My breath caught in my throat. Heat flooded my face, then lower, as I got a full view of everything. And God help me, everything was... impressive. Dante Valenti was built like some kind of Renaissance sculpture, all hard planes and perfect proportions, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness. And his cock… well, he wasn’t lying about being hung.
I forced my eyes up, away from the sight that was making my body flush with heat. My fingers fumbled with the remaining buttons on my shirt as I turned my back to him, heart hammering against my ribs.
“You can look if you want,” Dante said, amusement clear in his voice. “We’re married now. It’s not like you won’t be seeing plenty more of it.”
I clenched my jaw, yanking my shirt closed with more force than necessary. “I’m good, thanks.”
I heard the rustle of fabric as he dressed, and I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the wall in front of me. My face was burning,and worse, I could feel the unwanted stirring in my jeans. My body was betraying me, responding to him in ways that made my stomach churn with shame.
This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t—I didn’t?—
“You know,” Dante continued, his voice closer now, “for someone who claims to be straight, you were staring pretty hard just now.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, finally getting my shirt buttoned. I reached for my boots, needing something to do with my hands.
“I’m just saying, there’s no shame in liking more than one thing or wanting to try something new.” His hand landed on my shoulder, warm through the fabric of my shirt. I jerked away like I’d been burned.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Your eyes say different.”
I whirled around to face him, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove his observations, but the words died in my throat. He was fully dressed now, thank God, in a dark henley and jeans that probably cost more than my truck. His hair was still damp, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look even more handsome.
What the fuck was wrong with me? It had to be the lack of sleep. Yeah. That was it.
“We have work to do,” he said, his expression shifting back to business. “The new cattle need to be checked, and I want to ride the fence line on the north pasture. You’re coming with me.”
“Is that an order?” The bitterness in my voice was impossible to hide.
“It’s a request,” he said. “But yes, I expect you to comply. Unless you’d rather stay here and think about what you saw?”
The bastard was enjoying this. I could see it in the slight curve of his lips, the glint in those dark eyes.
“Fine,” I bit out. “Let’s go.”
I pushed past him, grabbing my jacket from the hook by the door. The morning air would be cold, and I needed the excuse to put another layer between us. Between me and whatever the hell my confused, sleep-deprived body was doing.
Outside, the Montana morning hit me like a splash of cold water. It was exactly what I needed. The sky was just starting to lighten, streaks of pink and gold painting the horizon beyond the dark silhouette of the mountains. My breath misted in the air as I headed toward the barn, boots crunching on gravel.
I could hear Dante behind me, his footsteps steady and unhurried. He didn’t try to catch up or make conversation, which was a small mercy. I needed space to get my head straight, to stop thinking about what I’d just seen.
The barn was warm compared to outside, filled with the familiar smells of hay and horse and leather that usually grounded me. Today they just reminded me that nothing was familiar anymore. Not really.
Buck nickered when he saw me, pushing his nose over the stall door. I ran my hand down his face, taking comfort in the solid warmth of him. At least some things hadn’t changed.
“Which one’s mine?” Dante asked from behind me.
