Page 70 of Slow Burn

“Can I at least help?” she asks.

I come closer to her, her body drawing me in like we’re opposite sides of a magnet. “Nah,” I say. “I could use a little distraction, anyway.”

The memory of her body pressed up against mine in the parking lot earlier has had me in a chokehold ever since I got home. My hands find her waist as if that’s where they are meant to be, my mouth finds hers like she’s my North Star.

I skate my lips over her jaw, down the delicate skin of her neck. She tips her head back and lets out a soft whimper that just about has me falling to my knees. I don’t fall, though. I lower myself down to the floor in front of her, and work at the tiny clasps of her shoes until I have them both undone and I slide them off.

Rising again, I lift her so she’s perched sitting on the desk, meeting my eye level. Her arms come up to circle my neck, drawing me down to her. Her mouth meets mine in a kiss, her back arching at the contact.

“You were so sexy riding that bull tonight,” I groan against her mouth, remembering the way her hips rocked back and forth, moving with the machine, rolling in a way that had everyone hypnotized. It made me so fucking jealous, that everyone got to see her up there, that it wasn’t just a private show for me. “I had to walk away before I did something stupid.”

She wraps her legs around my waist, pressing her hips into me and grinding against me as if she knows exactly what I enjoyed about watching her tonight.

“So that’s why you really left early,” she says between kisses, smiling against my mouth.

I dip my face down to brush my lips next nipping at her lobe. “You got me,” I breathe into the shell of her ear, goosebumps scattering across her skin.

I fucking love it, the physical reaction she has to me.

“You want to know what was even sexier?” I ask, my hand finding the swell of her breast, her nipple peaked through the thin satin.

“Mhmm,” she moans.

“When you said you might want to stay in Sage Valley,” I answer.

She pulls back now, those deep brown irises searching my face. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course I do,” I breathe. “I never wanted you to leave the first time around.”

“So what was with all the wear the hat, ride the cowboy business?”

I sense a hint of jealousy in her tone, and it sparks something within me, a small bit of satisfaction I know I shouldn’t have. But I can’t help it, having Lyla feel even the smallest bit possessive over me is a high I can’t explain.

I drop my head so my forehead rests on her shoulder, letting out a long exhale before looking up at her again.

“I was trying to move on, Lyla. I dated and slept around a bit, all in an attempt to move on, to stop thinking about you,” I explain.

“And Tessa?”

“Even Tessa. She was the closest I ever came to having a chance at forgetting you,” I say, my voice breaking at the thought of the years I spent trying to move on. “I could never give myself to her fully. I could never be what she wanted or deserved. Because even on our best days together, I was still thinking about you.”

Lyla nods, contemplating my answer, taking it in. If I could go back and undo everything I’ve done in the last ten years, if I could redo it all and save myself for her, I would. But the best I can do now is promise her all of my days going forward.

A knot forms in my gut because even though I can promise her my future, I know she can’t say the same. And I’d never ask her to.

“You know, I won’t blame you if you decide to take that job and go back to the city. I just… I wish you wouldn’t. But I know they’ll love you, everyone who meets you does.”

“You know about…” Her eyes dart side to side, assessing my gaze.

“Yeah, I know you went for that interview. It’s ok. Lyla, I want you to stay here more than anything, but I also never want to be the person to tell you you can’t spread your wings. All I want is for you to have the space to fly.”

“Are you saying I’m like a beautiful butterfly, Beck? How poetic,” she says with a soft smile.

I rest my forehead against hers, and close my eyes. “I’m saying you’re the most beautiful butterfly I’ve ever seen.”

“And I’m thinking you might be a perfect place to land,” she whispers into the space between us, before pressing her mouth against mine. Her lips are tender, but they work against mine with more desperation than before, communicating her wanting without words.

My hands find the straps of her tank top, brushing them off her shoulders like I’ve been wanting to do ever since she walked through the door. It falls off her, the fabric bunching around her waist, her tits bared to me.