“You good?”he murmured.
His thumb stroked a slow line below her ear.Kyla’s lips parted.Nothing but breath moved between them.She gave a clipped nod.Her hand tugged at his thigh, bolder than her mouth.
Go.
He slid the truck into gear.Gravel churned under the tires as he pulled them into the hush of the back pasture.The window stayed down.Night moved around them.Fields paled and fencelines stood crisp in silver.
He gripped the wheel tight so he would not touch her again before they arrived.Her profile stayed turned toward him.The blindfold lay flawless across the arch of her brow.Lashes rested dark against skin.No fear showed in the set of her jaw.Only concentration.The curve of her lower lip looked bitten.
A coyote called off near the cottonwoods.Kyla’s shoulders lifted as she shifted and chased some ache she would not voice.Every pothole in the rutted lane threatened to jostle her.Titus navigated each one with more care than he used hauling yearlings.
His body pitched forward and his focus locked on her.He could smell her laundry soap and a faint sweetness from the lotion she kept by the sink layered over something richer and earthy.That scent marked her as surely as his hand did.
When he braked behind the auction barn, the engine ticked into silence.He glanced at Kyla.She stayed still.Her breath slowed long and measured.
She licked her lips with nothing nervous in the motion.Moonlight bathed the barn’s battered walls and turned tin pale while it picked out every gouge in the planks.
Titus slid out first.His boots grated on packed gravel.He pulled open her door with his arm steady and his body angled to shield her from the night.He brushed his palm down her forearm and tucked his fingers under her elbow.
She did not ask where they were and did not reach for the blindfold.When her boots met ground, she pressed in just enough to signal trust without a drop of submission.He drew her hand to his chest.His fingers felt broad and dry against the callus in her palm.
“Ladder’s to your right.”
No explanation.
He wanted her climbing up into this barn under the moon like she belonged here.
They moved slowly.His boots followed hers.One hand stayed steady at her hip as she searched for the first rung.The air up here carried hay dust and sweet rot mingled with sweat and old straw.
Every noise grew amplified.The groan of a plank under her boot.The flex of the ladder bolts.The ragged undertone of their combined breathing.He stayed aware down to the marrow of her shape in front of him.Her hips rolled as she found her balance.The bandana had turned her head into a secret.
He fought the need to grip her hips tighter and claim space where he had only been granted invitation.Instead, he held position and waited.Every few rungs Kyla hesitated with her foot hovering.Titus braced his chest against her back until her body aligned with the next step.
“Keep going.I’m right here.”His tone came low.
She did not answer except to climb.Moonlight streamed through the open hayloft door at the top and banded her in silver as he edged up close.He pressed his lips together and forced his pulse down.At the final rung, he hooked an arm around her waist, guided her up, and lifted her over the threshold.
Kyla’s boots crunched on straw.Her hand stayed in his.The barn interior glowed faint blue and grey with dust motes suspended in the cold air.The auction ring below sat empty.
Up here, every creak echoed off high rafters and roof patched with old tin.He drew her forward and let his thumb brush a line above her waistband.Then he let go and waited for the next signal.
He had never led anyone further than this.
He waited half-crouched inside the loft.Kyla’s hand stayed steady in his.The hay smelled raw with sunlight baked in and bitter under the lantern’s spill.
She stood with her spine straight and her chin lifted beneath the blindfold while she breathed in as if she could name every detail by scent alone.Titus stripped the bandana off slowly and let moonlight reveal what he had hidden.
Her eyelashes fluttered.For a heartbeat, she stayed blinking and getting her bearings while her pupils widened.She took in the lantern’s low glow, the blanket layered over clean straw, and the shape of him blocking the open door.
She locked onto the single object he had risked bringing.A square hand mirror braced against a bale gleamed in the moon.Kyla’s mouth parted as if to say something but she let her eyes roam and take inventory.
First the thick navy blanket.Then the way the night drafted through the wallboards.Then back to the mirror.Her breath moved slow.
Titus kept his hands by his sides with his shoulders squared.He itched to pull her close or touch her face just for proof.Instead, he tracked the flutter at her throat and the glossy mark left by her lipstick gone faint from the bandana.
Every detail lived sharper than any other memory he owned.Her hair loosened by the knot.The faint gloss of sweat at her collar.The tense flex at her forearm.
Kyla shifted and took a step toward the blanket.One palm grazed his belt, deliberate.She stopped to let her knuckles drift over his waistband.Not rough, but not soft either.She claimed the last word before anything started.Her other hand set on her own hip with fingers splayed in the fabric of her dress.
