She doesn’t make a noise, but I don’t miss the flicker of pain in her expression. I press gently along her ankle. It’s already beginning to swell. “Doesn’t feel broken.”
“See?” She gives me a grimace that she’s trying to turn into a smile. “It’s fine.”
“You should still stay off of it for a little while. Why don’t I make you some lunch?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
I growl deep in my throat, my limit finally reached. “Dammit, why won’t you ever just let me take care of you?”
“Because maybe I like it too much,” she says. Her eyes widen like she didn’t mean to let the words slip out.
I think about a little girl who watched her mom walk away, about a sister who lost her brother three years ago. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I want to be there for you? That maybe I want to take care of you?” Why can’t this frustrating woman see that all I want is to protect her, provide for her, and pleasure her? I don’t want anything in return but her sweet smile for the rest of my days.
“I can’t be another one of your rescue dogs, Bronco.”
“It’s not like that!”
“What’s it like?” she taunts.
“It’s like this,” I answer, knowing the only time we haven’t been fighting lately, we’ve been kissing. So I kiss her passionately, holding her tight against me until her hands are gripping my shoulders, her nails digging through the material of my faded flannel.
When I finally break the kiss long enough to suck in desperate lungfuls of oxygen, I study her. Her lips are swollen, and her pupils are dilated. She looks as drugged out on our chemistry as I am.
She presses shaking fingertips to her lips then whispers. “Was that theater too?”
“There’s no audience,” I answer before kissing her again.
Chapter 9
Lauren
Bronco’s kisses are magic, weaving a spell around me that I can’t fight. That I don’t want to fight. Still, I can’t stop thinking about this, about how it’s only going to end badly.
“What are we doing?” I gasp between kisses, not even sure how we ended up like this. He’s on the couch, and I’m sitting sideways in his lap. My injured foot is still propped on a pillow and elevated.
“We’re not fighting,” he responds, nuzzling my neck. His beard tickles my sensitive skin and sends a shiver through me. His hands are roaming everywhere, squeezing and kneading like he’s checking to make sure this moment is real. “Do you want to stop?”
“I like not fighting with you,” I gasp as he nibbles at my overheated flesh. I can’t believe we’re making out like this. Bronco is making out with me. There’s a low, fluttering pulse beneath my belly, one that has me wanting to rub up against this big, strong cowboy. “I have to tell you...something….”
His kisses trail lower, ghosting along my shoulders, my collarbones. But there’s something he needs to know before this goes any further. “Tell me later.”
“Wait,” I push at his shoulder until he lifts his head to look at me. Instantly, I blush. I didn’t imagine how embarrassing this confession would be or that it would be twice as embarrassing to talk about it with him staring at me. His blue eyes are dark, and his gaze is hooded. He looks like he’s one second away from eating me up, and well, that’s the thing. “I’ve never done this.”
Surprise flickers across his features only to be replaced by a feral, possessive look that makes my insides quiver. “You’ve never done this?”
“There’s only ever been you.” Five words that I almost regret as soon as I say them. He knows now. He knows how much power he holds over me, how desperate I am for him.
“I’ll take my time, and we’ll only go as far as you want,” he murmurs, voice soft and gentle. “You say the word, and everything stops.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I admit. “I’d like to go back to not fighting.”
“I’d like that too.” His voice is deeper than usual. It sends a shiver down my spine.
I nod then realize he’s probably waiting for my words. “And maybe your kisses could go a little lower.”
