Then, when I was dancing with Madi Wright, I looked down at her and realized that I didn’t want any other woman in my arms or my bed, ever again.
All I want is Dallas, in every way, not just physically.
30
DALLAS
My breath catches when I see the look on Duke’s face. His blue eyes are clearer than I’ve ever seen them, like the ocean on a sunny day.
He’s leaning into me, his eyes dropping to my lips. My throat feels swollen.
“A chance to what?” I finally manage to ask over the roar in my ears.
“A chance to call you mine, really mine.”
He says it so simply and matter-of-factly. I take a sip of the wine, needing the liquid courage.
“You know I’m almost thirty, right?”
He raises a brow, seemingly confused. “And?”
“And you’re only twenty-six. I’m four years older than you.”
“I can do basic math actually.”
“Well, it’s a lot of years, don’t you think? Plus, the two kids, which adds imaginary years on.”
“Does it?”
I nod, taking a bite of the slider. He’s lying there, propped up on his elbow with his Stetson on, and the memory of the night Dutton got sick pops into my brain.
He stayed over, knowing he wasn’t getting lucky, took care of me, and cleaned up my child’s vomit. I’d be hard-pressed to find another man in this state who would do that.
And while looking this good? Impossible.
I look around at the picnic blanket, the food, the horses. My battered and bruised little heart isn’t protesting like she usually is. Maybe a part of me is starting to actually heal, to not turn tail and run for the hills at the potential of having an emotional attachment to a man.
Emotional attachment means power over me.
But Duke wouldn’t use that power to hurt me …
“Is four years really that long to you?”
“What are you saying, like, exactly?” I lean over to lie down beside him, propped up on my elbow.
He studies my face, his eyes dipping over my lips. “I want you all to myself.”
“Exclusive?”
“Yes. My woman. No one else gets to touch you or take you out or sleep in your bed.”
My stomach flips at the possessive edge in his tone. “You wanna sleep in my bed?”
“If you’ll let me. Or you can sleep in mine.”
“And what if it doesn’t work out? What about the boys?” All my fears and doubts are threatening to bubble over the surface and overtake the happy, good feelings in my belly.
He grabs my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine.
