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“We should head back,” he rasped. “The others will be wondering where we are. I didn’t tell—”
Macie moved forward again. And when she placed a hand on his chest, he could only stare into her brown eyes.
“Holt,” she whispered. “Wait.”
His pulse soared. She moved her hand up his chest, then to the open collar of his shirt, where she brushed her fingers against his skin. Her touch was light, feather-like, but he had to swallow back the pain of not acting on his desires.
She inched closer. The length of their bodies weren’t touching, but he could feel the heat of her all the same. She traced her fingers up his neck, then along his jaw. Her hand continued its path behind his neck, and she lifted up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “What if I told you that I wanted you to kiss me?”
Flames roared through him, and it was everything he could do not to drag her against him, and kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe.
“Macie, we can’t do this,” he whispered.
“Because I used to be married to your brother?”
“Yes . . . No.” He breathed. “I can’t come between the two of you.”
She didn’t seem to be listening, because she pressed her mouth against the edge of his jaw. The touch of her mouth on his skin was like being branded with a red hot iron.
“Macie . . .” His resolve had all but disappeared.
Her other hand skimmed over his shoulder, then curled on his sleeve. “Do you think that for one minute, we could forget about your brother? Maybe pretend you and I just met?”
He closed his eyes. He wanted this, too, so much. Remembering that first moment she spoke to him at the rodeo that one summer night, the breath rushed from him, and he opened his eyes. Macie was here, so close, and the way she was looking at him . . . “If we could go back in time, do I ask you to the dirt dance?”
“No,” she murmured. “You don’t want to be among the crowds and the dirt. So you give me a ride in your truck and take me to your ranch. The house is dark, but we walk among the trees beneath the moonlight. You show me your beloved horses, and I tell you about my home.”
“Then what? Do we ride one of the horses?”
“No,” she said in a slow tone. “It’s too dark for that, but you take my hand as we lean against the fence and talk about our childhoods.”
She brushed her fingers against his, sending his pulse soaring.
“Do I get to kiss you before saying goodbye?” he whispered, linking their fingers.
“Yes.” Macie’s smile was beautiful, creating a new buzz within him. “But it’s a very chaste kiss.”
Holt’s heart skipped a beat, or three. “On the mouth? I don’t think that’s possible, darlin’.”
“I guess we should find out.”
He came undone.
Holt stopped listening to the voice telling him to release her. To return to the ranch. To never touch her again. Instead, he released her hand, then lifted his hands and cradled her face. A smiled curved her lips, and her eyes fluttered shut just before he pressed his mouth against hers.
Macie’s lips were warm, and she tasted like apples and honey, and better than any dream he’d ever had. He shouldn’t be doing this, that he knew, but it was either kiss her or completely break. Her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him, and she tugged him closer, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.
Holt’s breathing stuttered, and their kissing deepened. Tasting, touching. Every sense he had went into overload. He didn’t think he’d notice if a stampede of horses headed straight at them . . . he was too lost in the feel of her curves against the planes of his body, the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin.
When she moved her mouth to his jaw and kissed the side of his neck, he didn’t know if he could handle any more sensations. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he felt his own desperation mount, because he very well knew this would be their first and last kiss. He was burning up, so he pulled her closer, wanting more. Which he couldn’t have.
And when her hands moved down the sides of his torso, anchoring him against her, he knew he had to cool things off. Be better than his brother. Show Macie the respect that she deserved. Be honest with her. Come clean.
“Macie,” he murmured against her neck. “I . . . we can’t.”
He lifted his head from the heaven that was her, and it killed him to think he’d have to release this woman. Her eyes were luminous, her cheeks flushed rose, and her lips swollen. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. But if he let this continue, let things grow between them, she’d hate him once Knox returned and begged for forgiveness.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Holt swallowed. The vulnerability in her eyes only made what he had to say more difficult. And more necessary. “Knox is coming home.”
