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“True.” He turns back to me, and there’s a flicker of something—apprehension, maybe even vulnerability. “But not everyone has someone to fight ‘em off with.”
“Are you saying I’m your someone?” A playful challenge lights my tone, but the undercurrent is all too serious.
“Maybe I am,” he replies, his half-smile tinged with shadows. “Or maybe we’re each other’s.”
The night grows still around us. Here in the heart of the bridge, with this man who carries his scars like badges of honor, I sense the weaving of a new narrative—one where tragedy meets hope, and where a shared burden might just become the foundation of something extraordinary.
“Tell me more,” I urge, stepping closer.
“Another time,” he promises, and though I yearn for more, I nod in acceptance. “Jane.” His voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something ‘bout you I can’t shake.”
I swallow hard, feeling the tension coil between us. It’s there in the way he looks at me, like he sees right through the armor I’ve built around myself.
“Tex...” My voice trails off, heavy with the things I want to say but don’t dare to.
He steps closer, closing the distance with a certainty that makes my heart race. “Can you feel it?” He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
His fingers are calloused but gentle, leaving a trail of heat along my skin.
“Feel what?”
“This.” He pulls me into him, and every nerve ending comes alive.
The world narrows down to the space where our bodies meet, the rest fading into nothingness. Our lips crash together in a kiss that steals my breath away. He tastes like freedom and something indefinably wild, a flavor I didn’t know I’d been craving until this very moment. His arms wrap around me, solid and unyielding, and I melt into him, giving in to the hunger that’s been simmering just beneath the surface.
“Jane,” he groans against my mouth, and I hear the raw need threaded through his voice.
“Tex,” I gasp, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
His lips moving against mine as his hands touch the bare skin of my waist sending electric shocks through me.
“God, Jane,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my neck. “You feel like you were made for me.”
His words send a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the evening chill. Every cell in my body responds as I thread my fingers through his dark hair.
“Tex,” I breathe out, a plea and an affirmation all in one.
His lips trail a path from my jawline to my collarbone, each kiss igniting a fire that spreads through my veins.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, eyes blazing into mine, daring me to voice the desires that have been curled dormant inside me.
I arch into him, our bodies fitting together as though we are two halves of a whole.
“You,” I whisper, the word carrying all the weight of my longing.
His response is immediate, a growl of approval as he lifts me effortlessly, pinning me against the aged wood of the bridge, its rough surface a stark contrast to the smoothness of his touch.
“Jane,” he rasps, voice laced with the same hunger that claws at my insides. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”
Hands roam, exploring the terrain of muscle and sinew, tracing the lines of scars, and lived life—a testament to his past, to the roads traveled and the battles fought. Our dance of give and take, push and pull, is as old as time.
“Tex, I—” My words dissolve into a moan as his mouth descends once more, claiming me with a fervor that speaks of pent-up yearnings and whispered midnight promises.
The connection we share deepens with every stroke, every nip.
“Stay with me tonight,” he groans against my skin, the vibration sending another wave of desire crashing over me.
“Yes.”
