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‘It’s exquisite,’ she whispered.
‘It’s useful,’ he corrected. He leaned his butt against the cabinet and folded his arms over his chest. The lamplight shifted over the harsh planes of his face. ‘We’re at least half a mile from the farmhouse, and even further from the other homesteads,’ he said, his voice matter of fact. ‘No one’s gonna disturb us or get traumatised by us being here and doing whatever we want to each other…’
She had to force herself to breathe. The enormity of what he was suggesting so huge she couldn’t quite process it in her head. Even though her body was already way ahead of itself, her nipples hard enough to drill nails.
You muppet. Why did you let him bring you here? And why can’t you just turn around and run back out into the night? Before you get pressured into doing something you don’t want to do.
But annoyingly, despite the provocative things he’d said, and the hot way he was staring at her, she didn’t feel pressured. She felt aroused. Hopelessly, stupidly, unbearably aroused.
‘We can’t,’ she said, her voice a great deal less demonstrative than she needed it to be.
He released his arms, and braced his hands on the cabinets behind him, making his shoulders bunch under the damp T-shirt.
He ducked his head, and crossed his legs at the ankle, his fingers tightening on the cabinet edge as he stared down at his work boots. Was he nervous, too?
But then his head came up and he said in that same matter-of-fact voice: ‘Why not?’
There was no anger or irritation, it sounded like a genuine question. That deserved a genuine answer. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a single, solitary one that would make any sense.
After a pregnant pause, she managed, ‘Because it would be dishonest?’
Unfortunately, the lift in her voice made it sound more like another question than an answer.
He huffed out a strained laughed, then dropped his head back down to examine his boots some more. When he spoke, his voice rumbled out from his chest, making the hairs on her nape prickle.
‘You know what’s dishonest?’ He trapped her in that tractor beam gaze. ‘Pretending we don’t want to do this, when we do.’
Pushing himself upright, he walked towards her, each step slow, and careful, as if he were approaching a wild animal that might bolt at any moment.
Her heart beat so fast it felt as if it were going to gallop right out of her mouth. He raised his arm, and slid his hand across her cheek, barely touching.
The calluses on his palm rasped over sensitive skin and her breath gushed out in a rush. His eyes remained locked on hers, as if he were waiting for her to tell him no.
That would be the no that had deserted her seconds ago, no minutes ago, no hours, and weeks and months ago. The first time he’d kissed her. Maybe even before that. The no that had now floated out into the close night never to be heard of again.
His fingers threaded into her hair, and he lowered his lips to hers, but, just as he paused a whisper away, she flattened her hands against his waist.
‘I should warn you,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘I’m not very good at this.’
He lifted his head, and cupped her face in both his palms. ‘What?’ he said, searching her face.
Why the hell had she said that?
‘Forget I said that, let’s just do it and see how it goes. It’ll probably be OK, I have it on good authority you’re a guaranteed orgasm.’
His lips curved, his eyes lighting with amusement. Was he laughing at her?
She pulled back. ‘Why are you smiling?’
‘Shhh.’ He propped his forehead against hers, grinning now.
‘Did you just shush me?’
‘Stop talking, Ellie.’ His fingers curled around her nape then slid into her hair. The top knot released, spilling her hair onto her shoulders. His abdominal muscles jumped under her touch.
‘It’s going to be good.’ He chuckled again, the rusty sound sending a renewed rush of blood to her cheeks. ‘I guarantee it.’
The yank in her abdomen became a hot slow glide of pressure, and instead of pushing him away, instead of being outraged, or scared, or indignant, she laughed, too.
