Page 146 of Saltwater Cowboy

A thick silence stretched between us. Charged. Heavy with something unspoken.

I tilted my head. “Anything else? Or are you just going to stand there like a statue?”

Wells swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Before I could respond, he closed the distance, his hand slipping to the back of my neck as he pulled me into him—his lips crashing into mine.

His lips were warm, firm, and completely consuming. A sharp inhale left my lips as Wells deepened the kiss, his hand splaying against my lower back, pulling me flush against him. Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading through my veins like wildfire.

I hadn’t realized how much I wanted this until now.

A small sigh escaped me as I melted into him, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt, desperate to hold onto something solid. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss even further, and a slow, delicious warmth curled low in my stomach.

He kissed like he meant it.

Like he had been holding back for too long.

Like I was something he finally let himself want.

When we finally broke apart, my breath was ragged, my pulse pounded in my ears. Wells rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still tangled in my hair.

“Oh,” I whispered, struggling to steady my breath. “That was unexpected.”

A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?”

I nodded, still dazed. “Yeah.”

His thumb traced a slow, lazy circle at the base of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “Should I apologize?”

I bit my lip, pretending to consider it. “I’d be really disappointed if you did.”

His low chuckle sent a thrill through me. “Good.”

He kissed me again, slower this time, softer. Less of a desperate collision and more of an exploration, like he wanted to memorize me.

I wanted to memorize him, too.

This time, the kiss was unhurried, but it still stole the air from my lungs. Wells moved with purpose, like he was savoring every second, like he wanted me to know exactly what he felt without saying a word.

My fingers slid up, curling around the back of his neck as I pressed closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine. His hands—warm and calloused—held me like I was something he didn’t want to let go of.

A quiet sound escaped me, something between a sigh and a soft hum of pleasure. That only encouraged him. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his fingers tightening slightly at my waist, like he was anchoring himself to me.

The rest of the world faded—my messy hair, my glasses, the pile of sunflowers, everything. All that mattered was this. The way he kissed me like I was the only thing on his mind and in his heart.

When we finally pulled apart, my lips felt swollen, my breath unsteady. Wells stayed close, his forehead brushing against mine. His hands settled at my waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let me go.

“That was…”

I murmured, a little breathless.

“A long time coming,” he finished for me, his voice low and rough.

I swallowed hard, my heart still racing. “Yeah.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against my hip. “You should probably tell me to leave before I make things more complicated.”

I blinked up at him, still dizzy from his kiss. “Do you want me to tell you to leave?”