Page 33 of Cowboy Mountain Man

“I know that in my head.”

I draw her closer between my knees. She comes willingly. “Then listen until the rest of you catches up.”

Her lips part. I keep my voice low. “You didn’t send them. You didn’t open the door. You didn’t swing that bar.”

Her breath catches. “And you didn’t make me bring you home.”

Something changes in her face. The fear is still there. So is the woman who touched my beard beside the fire and told me exactly what she wanted. “Would you do it again?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Her hand slides from the gauze to the back of my neck. I go still.

“Hope.”

“I’m dry.”

My gaze drops to her mouth.

“The road’s open,” she continues. “At least this one.”

“You haven’t slept.”

“No.”

Her thumb moves against my skin. “Have you changed your mind?”

I could lie. I could get up, put on a clean shirt, and ask Alden to take over while I get some distance.

Instead, I pull her closer. “No.”

She exhales. “Then stop looking at me like you want to kiss me while doing nothing about it.”

My hand settles at her waist. “I’m trying to do this right.”

“So am I.”

There’s no joke in her voice now.

I search her face. “If you want me to stop, you tell me.”

“I will.”

I stand, bringing her with me. Then I kiss her. She makes a soft sound against my mouth and grips the back of my neck.

Every careful inch I’ve kept between us disappears.

I hold her against me, one hand at her back, the other in her hair. She kisses me like she’s been waiting all night.

I have.

Longer, if I’m honest. Since she sat in that diner and told me she wasn’t a package somebody hired me to move around. Since she put my bleeding hand in hers. Since she laughed at me.

I lift my head just enough to breathe. “You still sure?”