My jaw clenches hard, drinking her in like a tall mug of something cold. I start toward her, then stop short when a man in a white cowboy hat steps up. They exchange a few words, and Aunt May takes Sloane’s bottle, sending her off with him.
I stand back and watch too long as he places a hand at her waist and draws her close. My fists clench as something darker than frustration settles in. It isn’t his fault—hell, it isn’t even Sloane’s.
It’s mine.
Their smiles burn into my head, and I’ve had enough of watching. I cut through the crowd as the song ends andstep in beside them. “Mind if I cut in now?” I ask, even though I would’ve done it either way.
He nods politely, flashes her a friendly smile, and leaves us alone. As the tempo slows, I set my hands at her waist; she hooks her arms around my neck, a little awkward.
“This is interesting,” she says. “You don’t want to be near me, but you don’t want me dancing with other guys, hmm?”
I shoot her a look. “You can dance with whoever you want,” I say—though it isn’t true.
“Then I should call him back.”
She points toward the cowboy, but I tug her closer and rest my forehead against hers. She shudders. “I rest my case.”
“You want the truth?” I say. “I don’t want anyone else’s hands on you —period.”
She gasps softly. As the song ends, I know I can’t wait—and by the glassy look in her eyes, neither can she.
I take her hand and pull her out of the barn toward the main house. Inside, I don’t stop until a guest room door shuts behind us. I press her to it and kiss her—no anger this time, something else entirely. I know exactly what I’m doing this time—and I do it anyway.
I ease her out of her dress, my hands finding bare waist. Feather-light touches raise goosebumps as my mouthtraces her neck and shoulder. She breathes deep while I finish undressing her, then I step back and take her in.
She’s breathless. Beautiful. “Seems like I’m at a disadvantage,” she says, and I chuckle softly.
“Come here and do something about it,” I reply with a smirk. She does exactly that, lifting my hat from my head and setting it on the night table before working my plaid shirt free and helping me out of it.
She makes quick work of my belt and jeans; they hit the floor with a clatter as I pull her with me onto the bed without hesitation.
She flips her hair aside as she straddles my waist. I grip her hips and press up into her.
She groans, rolling slowly, making sure I hit the spot she needs. Her hands slide over my chest, nails dragging lightly, and I shudder under her touch.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” I groan. She chuckles, and it only spurs her on.
She moans my name. “Gage.”
Hearing it from her lips hits different than it should. I didn’t expect to want it the way I do, but damn if I’m not hoping to hear it again tonight.
I meet her rhythm, thrusting up as she moves. Watching her bite her lip as I bring her to the edge is an image I won’t forget.
This moment is different from the last, in every way that matters. I don’t know what it means or how it changes things, but I know this isn’t anger. It’s something steadier—something we haven’t fully unraveled yet.
Watching her come undone on top of me is unlike anything I’ve experienced. I’ve been with women before, but none like Sloane. Not even close.
She’s something special, and I’m a fool for not seeing it sooner.
But I see it now—and that might be the problem.
Because the second she matters, she becomes something I can lose.
eleven
Sloane
When I agreed to go to the barn party, I didn’t expect the outcome that came out of it. I still feel a little weird that Gage and I slept together in his aunt’s house, but we left soon after and ended the night back at the house, tangled up in something that already felt like a mistake.
