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I shrug and decide I’m not going to deny that. “I know I do. I even knew while we were seeing each other. John made me feel terrible about myself when we were together. I thought…” I shake my head. “It’s dumb. Never mind.”
I almost lose my breath a second later because his hand is back, this time drawing lines along the inside of my wrist. My whole body flushes hot, and I feel myself get a little damp. My resolve starts to crack, and I wonder how faux pas it would be to touch him the way he’s touching me.
I mean… he started, right?
I can feel his gaze on me too—heavy, almost physical, but I’m too afraid to look up.
“It’s not dumb. It should be a fucking crime that anyone ever made you feel like you weren’t worth touching. Or kissing,” he adds, his voice low in an honest-to-god growl. He shifts closer, and I can’t help but lean in toward him. My gaze is fixed on his thick, calloused fingers as they trace my tendons with a touch more delicate than I’ve ever felt. “You’re one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.”
I look up at him. I have a sudden, powerful need to know if he’s lying to me or not. And for all my bad decision-making in life, I actually do have the ability to read people. It leaves me with a punch of relief and something else—something hot and needy—when all I see in his eyes is stark honesty.
He licks his lips, and then his hand lifts off my arm and very gently presses to my cheek. His thumb strokes a line from the corner of my lip to my jawline, and I swear if I had to move or die right now, I’d probably choose death.
“Eden,” he murmurs.
Fuck. No one has ever said my name like that, like they’re whispering a prayer. I find myself smiling, and he grins back, looking almost startled. When I feel his touch start to ease back, my hand flies up and curls around his wrist.
“Please don’t.”
He shakes his head, but I don’t know if he’s arguing with me or himself. Either way, he doesn’t pull back. “I can’t…” He trails off and licks his lips again—like it’s a nervous habit. He takes a breath that shudders a little in his chest, then squares his shoulders and leans in farther. “What do you want?”
“A kiss?” It comes out like a question, which frustrates me because I want to be powerful. I want to reach out and take the things I want. I swallow thickly and try again. “I want to be kissed and touched. I want to be fucked.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Just for now, right? That weekend fling? Because my life is complicated, sweetheart. And I don’t know if I can give more than that, no matter how much I want you.”
I’ve heard that before—the whole “I’m not in a place where I can commit to you” line—but this time, it goes both ways. I mean, he lives out here and runs a lodge and has horses and shit. I’m a city girl with an annoying office job with no time to flee to the mountains on a whim.
I wouldn’t be tempting fate with him right now if I knew we had to have an awkward conversation about what was supposed to come next.
But we don’t, because our lives are too different, and when I leave here, all I’m going to have is the memory.
The storm seems keen on reminding me of that fact, a huge bolt of lightning lighting up the living room, followed by a crack so loud, I react without thinking and leap into his arms. Maddox catches me easily, holding me by the hips. I’m sideways on his lap, but my body moves before my brain catches up, and I’m straddling him.
My head hovers over his as I kneel, and our foreheads press together. His breathing is sharp and shallow, and I can smell coffee on it as it breezes across my cheeks.
I wonder if his mouth tastes the same way.
“Eden,” he says again.
“Just the weekend,” I repeat.
He groans, and his fingers dig harder into my hips, and he moves his head, nuzzling his nose into my cheek. He’s so close to kissing me, and I desperately want to feel his mouth on mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.” One of his hands moves into my hair, gently gripping it by the base of the braid. “You don’t deserve to be hurt again.”
“Trust me, you won’t,” I tell him. It’s maybe a lie because I have a feeling giving him up is going to suck, but it’s the logical thing to do. I didn’t come here to find my happily ever after. I came here on the edge of a small, burning hope that I might be able to lose myself for a short while so life won’t seem so endless. I pull back and wrap one hand around the back of his neck, keeping my gaze on his. “I want this. I’m choosing this with you.”
He looks torn, and then his eyes flash hard, and his grip on my hair goes a little tighter. It sends sparking waves of promised pleasure down my spine, and I gasp, grinding down on him. For the first time, I feel the outline of his dick, andgod, he’s so hard.
“Tell me you’re sure. Tell me you understand.” His voice is commanding again, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I clench my core.
“I understand. It’s what I want. Just one weekend.”
“Okay,” he breathes out.
My eyes open again, and he’s so close my vision goes double. “Okay?”
This time, when he licks his lips, his tongue catches the edge of mine. I open to suck in a breath, and he takes advantage.
And he finally—finally—kisses me.
