Page 53 of Hats off to Love

“So pretty,” he whispers, and that heat shoots straight south.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that,” I tell him as I cup the side of his face. He’s been here all day, and an evening stubble has made itself known. It’s slightly rough, but in a way that would feel so good being dragged across my skin.

“No, it’s not,” he says, his mood turning more serious.

“Yes, it is,” I tell him a little more sternly, my thumb moving to trace the edge of his bottom lip. I would have remembered if he’d ever paid me a compliment like this. For years, I wished for something from him, anything, only to realize it was never going to happen.

“No. It’s just the first time I’ve allowed you to hear,” he says earnestly as his tongue slips out to tease my thumb.

I pull back just a little, and my eyes find his. “But why?”

“You know why.” He leans forward and takes my bottom lip between his then runs his tongue along it. But the truth is, I don’t know why. I don’t know what I ever did to make him hate me so much.

“I don’t,” I whisper, but he’s done talking, his tongue moving past my lips and caressing mine. My stomach swirls, my heart feels like it’s seizing, and my fingers grip him tightly.

Apparently that kiss last night was introductory, because tonight it’s on fire. We go from zero to sixty in literally sixty seconds.

“All I’ve thought about since last night is kissing you again,” he whispers. His mouth moves across my cheek to my neck, where he drags his teeth up my skin and sucks on the spot just under my ear. “I just can’t get enough,” he says, sounding tortured.

With no one around and no one watching, Stokes loosens his hold on the public armor he constantly wears and surrenders to himself, to me, and to this moment. His full lips are on mine, and his body is warm and solid against my chest and under my hands. There are no thoughts, and for several long heartbeats, he and I need the exact same thing. His hands are under my skirt, his fingers are under the edge of my underwear, and along with squeezing me, he moves me over him. It feels so good, and he was right—long is definitely the right word. I breathe him in as he does me, and a pang of disappointment hits me hard as I think we could have been doing this together for years.

“Why do you kiss like this?” I ask him, wondering how many others he’s kissed, who taught him, and how he became so good at it.

“Why do you taste so fucking good?” he growls against my lips before again claiming them and deepening the kiss enough to have my fingers slip underneath the suit jacket and push it off. For an instant his hands are off of me, and it falls to the ground. Right at this moment, I want all of our other clothes to join it.

While one of his hands dives back under my skirt, the other pulls the fascinator off and drops it on top of his jacket. With his lips on mine, his hand in my hair, and his body flush against mine, I pull on his shirt and untuck it from his pants. I want to feel his skin—no, I need to feel his skin, so I slip my hand up the back and around over his rib cage. My fingertips worship the hard ridges and warmth.

His hand slides to the back of my thigh, where his fingers wrap around my leg and just barely graze against my center. He has to feel what he’s doing to me. After all, I can definitely feel what I’m doing to him.

And I want more.

In the pocket of his pants, his cell phone buzzes, and we freeze. He pulls back from me, startled at how lost in the moment we were, and stares down at my mouth. I lick my bottom lip, and he blinks out of the trance. Grabbing his phone, he glances at the caller ID then answers it.

“Mr. Whitlock,” I hear come through the line.

“Yes,” he mumbles.

“Sir, just thought I would remind you real quick that there are now cameras in Ace’s barn.”

I suck in air, and Stokes closes his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” he tells whoever called from the security booth.

“No worries. Have a great night.” And the line goes dead.

Letting out a sigh, he shoves his phone back in his pocket, and his forehead drops to mine.

“I forgot about the cameras,” he says, frustration and embarrassment laced through his words.

“We can go to your place,” I suggest. He does have a house here on the property.

He lifts his head so his eyes find mine. “Rosie . . .” He lets out a disgruntled sigh. “If I take you there, we won’t be leaving. I know you’re tired, and I know you have a long week ahead of you.”

We won’t be leaving.

Oh, how I want him to take me there. I don’t want to leave; I want him to show me all the things he’s curious about, but his clear stare lets me know he will not be swayed. He’s right, I do have a busy week coming up and there are a thousand things I need to be doing, but right this second, I can’t think of one of them.

“Okay,” I tell him, my hopes tumbling down. He’s right. I know he is.