I’m off again in dreamland, imagining impossible scenarios where I take only pro bono cases on behalf of people who don’t have a voice, living in a place like this. With a man like Fitz. It’s an impossible dream, but I let it bloom for a moment.
The cowboy takes her in his arms, ignoring her protests that they can only ever be friends. “I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your everything,” he growls and pushes her up against a hay bale.
She sighs against his mouth as he parts her lips with his tongue and runs a hand the length of her thigh, pausing at the top before sliding a finger beneath the elastic of her panties…
I’m caught off guard when Fitz aims the spray of water into the air, and a fizzle of drops rains down on us like morning mist.
“Hey.” I turn to see him grinning like a schoolboy, already aiming the spray at Dolly’s soapy flank as though he didn’t just get me wet.
Before I can put my protest into words, he drops the hose in the bucket and pulls me toward him with a hand around my waist. I topple toward him, and he holds me up, kissing the top of my head.
It’s sweet, but I’m still caught up in my daydream, so I turn my face up toward his. Our lips are so close that I can feel his breath like it’s my own.
“All of our rules, stipulations,” he rasps, shaking his head. “We need those, right?”
I can barely think straight with his lips this close. A droplet of water rolls down his cheek. His eyes probe mine, and I see his pulse thrumming beneath the skin of his throat. “I think so. For the baby’s sake?” It comes out like a question because I’m not sure I believe it anymore. I feel so much closer to him than I did that day we promised to keep emotions out of it. And maybe something broke loose in him after he opened up to me about his brother.
“Or…” I press against him, my swollen belly absorbing his erection until he groans.
“Fuck, Duchess. I want to kiss you too much to play by the rules.” He doesn’t leave me time to think about whether it’s a good idea. He drops a kiss on my lips. Then another one. Lingering. Deeper.
I wrap a hand around his jaw and hold his face close for a longer kiss that penetrates my heart and bones. It communicates everything I feel—the confusion about what we mean to each other, my fears about parenthood, the attraction I’ve had for him since we met, the gratitude that he’s given me a baby I wasn’t sure I’d ever have. All of those emotions pour out of me as ourtongues tangle and our lips search for something deeper while a fire singes my veins.
I don’t want the kiss to end. I don’t want to return to my senses. Maybe this is the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It feels right. Not dangerous or confusing. Not leading anywhere other than where we are.
It also feels right to stop when I’m out of breath and so dizzy that Fitz has to hold me up. Our eyes stay locked until I feel steady and take a step backward.
“Thank you,” I say, wringing some water from my hair.
“For kissing you or spraying you with water?”
I laugh. “Neither. For telling me about your brother earlier. I want to know you, Fitz. All the parts and pieces.”
He looks at me for a long beat and finally nods. “I want that too.”
I nod. “Good. And feel free to ask me anything you want to know.”
He looks up at the sky and taps a finger against his lips as though he’s trying to come up with a perplexing question to stump me.
“Okay. What color underwear do you have on today?” He grins, all cowboy charm tinged with only a hint of the vulnerability I saw earlier. I see it in his eyes, unguarded and warm.
A bullet shoots straight to my core.
“Don’t even look at me like that.” I wag a finger, daring him to catch me in my lie, watching his eyes go molten in a scorching hot game of chicken. I lick my lips. His mouth hitches to the side in a smirk. My lips part as I try to think of something witty to say that will end this flirtation. Or burn the rest of our resistance down.
In two seconds, he’s tugging me away from the horses and through the doorway of a barn, which, sure enough, is loaded with hay bales. I have one last chance to say no.
I don’t.
It’s darker and cooler in the barn. So why does my skin feel like he’s set fire to it?
“It’s a thong.”
His eyes blaze. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking heard.” His hands feel decadent on my skin, which ignites wherever he touches me.
Trailing a finger down my cheek.
Running his hand the length of my arm and interlacing his fingers with mine when he reaches my hand.
