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Drake shifted beside her, facing her fully, his hand never leaving her knee just below the hem of her dress. Still, his thumb grazed her sensitive skin, sending ribbons of longing up her thigh.
Higher.
“For years, I thought I would regret it if I ever let myself get close to you.” The words were unexpectedly harsh. But then, he’d never sugarcoated anything with her, had he? She felt a momentary flash of hurt, until she locked into the first part of what he’d said.
“For years?” Had he known this was underneath the animosity?
Closing the gap between them, he shook his head impatiently. As if he didn’t want to answer the question? Or as if the answer were obvious?
Her heart sped at his nearness. At what she craved.
“But now,” he continued, his voice dropping deeper. His forehead touching hers. “I know I’ll regret it more if I don’t.”
Nine
Just one taste.
Drake told himself that was all he needed. Okay, he ached for more than that. But a single taste was all he’d allow himself of this woman who tempted him more than any other.
One kiss, and he’d have the answer to questions that had haunted the corners of his mind for longer than he cared to think about. What if he hadn’t brought Colin with him to that final rodeo? What if Colin hadn’t driven Fleur back to Catamount after she’d failed to capture the Miss Colorado Rodeo title that would have given her the rest of the scholarship money she’d needed for college?
Drake had seen Fleur with different eyes that summer. She’d been twenty years old. No longer a kid he needed to protect. Some of her defensive armor had worn off by then, perhaps because she’d been developing a new confidence in herself and her ability to attend culinary school without her family’s help. He’d recognized then that he wanted her, but he hadn’t acted on it, knowing she had big dreams that didn’t include Catamount or him.
His brother had acted, though. And the next time he’d seen Fleur had been weeks later when he’d discovered them engaged. His reaction had been out of bounds. Not just because he knew it was a bad idea for both of them.
But because he’d wanted her, too.
He’d ignored that hunger for so long, reminding himself of every fault he’d ever scavenged to find with her, that his appetite had only grown more urgent. Unavoidable. Undeniable.
Just one taste.
Fleur’s eyelashes fluttered, her breath huffing damp and warm along his mouth as she considered his words. Her cheeks were flush with desire, with promise.
“I think I’d regret it, too,” she said finally, dragging her gray eyes up to his. “If we didn’t find out—”
Her tongue darted out to swipe along the upper lip. The glistening moisture proved to be his kryptonite.
His restraint shredded until he held on by a thread. Hunger to taste her had him salivating. His grip tightened on her knee by a fraction, squeezing gently. The red knit dress she wore skimmed her luscious curves the way he wanted to.
“Find out what, Fleur?” he prompted, body throbbing with need. “Tell me.”
The corner of her lips curled up on one side. “What it would be like if we kissed instead of argued.”
Yes. Relief that she wanted him twined with a new imperative to kiss her in a way she’d never forget. Fleur’s hands moved to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his T-shirt to grasp the muscle.
Testosterone gripped Drake below the belt.
Still, he stroked one hand up her neck, feeling the delicate warmth of her pulse beat beneath his fingertips. He would not rush this. He wanted to savor the moment, savor her. Then he cradled her jaw, angling her the way he wanted before his mouth descended on hers.
His groan chorused with her sigh as she sank into him, her back arching, so her breasts tilted up, pressing into his chest.
Just one taste.
He ignored the cautionary reminder in his head, fading by the moment, and hauled her slender form into his lap. Her hip grazed the erection imprinted on his zipper and the sound she made—half sob, half whimper—vibrated up her throat to rattle through the kiss.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair, pulling him closer, tugging on the strands. He calculated how fast he could have her dress off, as if he had any intention of taking this further. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
But that didn’t stop the thoughts blasting through his head as his hand slid up her thigh, careful to keep the fabric of her dress between his palm and her leg. Because the connection was setting off fireworks, and he knew he needed to get the moment back under control somehow.
