Her hand comes up to my jaw, warm and steady. “You don’t even believe that,” she says.
No. I don’t.
That should stop me.
Instead it breaks the last piece of control I had left.
I lift her onto the edge of the tack trunk without taking my mouth from hers. She gasps softly, fingers digging into my shoulders now, and I step in between her knees like I belong there.
Dangerous thought.
Worse when her legs part for me without hesitation.
I drag my mouth down the line of her throat, feeling the jump of her pulse against my lips. Her head tips back against the wall, and the sound she makes is small and honest and enough to make me lose the rest of my mind.
My hands move over her like I’ve been denying them the right for too long. Her waist. Her hips. The soft give of her thighs beneath damp denim.
She touches me like she’s just as wrecked. That might be the worst part.
Or the best.
I don’t know.
I only know I’ve spent days trying to keep a line between us, and now I can’t remember why I thought distance would save me.
I lift my head just enough to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed. Her blue-green eyes darker. Her breath unsteady.
Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for what she is in this moment.
“You still want this?” I ask.
Her answer is immediate.
“Yes.”
Nothing coy in it. Nothing halfway.
I nod once, more to myself than to her, and kiss her again with all the hunger I’ve been trying not to show.
The rest comes fast after that. Not rushed. Not careless.
Just inevitable.
Every touch lands deeper than it should. Every breath she takes sounds like permission. I thumb open her jeans, snagging the waistband and pulling hard and fast.
She gasps, and I realize I’ve taken her panties with them.
God. My hand drops to the curve of her waist, sliding slow and sure. Goosebumps follow my touch as I palm the bottom of her impossibly smooth thigh, spreading her wide.
Dakota’s breath catches in her mouth. She’s auburn down there, too. But it’s slick, wet… That undoes me—her body begging, needing, echoing the strain behind my zipper.
I drop to my knees before she can protest because I have to take her there. Won’t settle for less. My hand climbs her inner thigh, hot breath teasing the raised nub already going swollen for me.
She smells like the only thing I ever need. God, if she tastes the same, I don’t know what I’ll do.
City girl. City ways. Won’t stay.
That’s what I tell myself.
