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Stirring him.
And he welcomed the distraction from thoughts about her dad’s insults.
“Well, I mentioned that your grandmother encouraged me,” he reminded her, making sure Antonia received the credit for all the time she’d spent talking to him in those lonely weeks after Lark had left him. “She told me about her grandfather’s horse ranch in Vallromanes, Spain, near Barcelona.”
Lark’s fork stilled midway to her mouth. “She did? I’m not sure I remember much about her family.”
“She was trying to show me how I could build the ranching operation while I let the bison mature by exploring agritourism.” He’d been intrigued by her ideas, doing online research of his own between their conversations so he could get her opinions on things as he expanded his plans. “Her granddad supported his ranch with horseback riding tours and a small bed-and-breakfast, and she thought I could grow interest in my bison if I had guided bus tours or four-wheeler expeditions. Maybe add a seasonal farmers market and pumpkin patch to draw business and build awareness of what I’m trying to build here.”
When he realized how much he’d been speaking about himself, he took another bite of his dinner, not wanting to dominate the conversation. He didn’t run that risk with many people, but with Lark he had to remember to turn discussions back on her sometimes.
“Wow. Now I’m not only impressed with you, I’m also super proud to hear how much Gran helped.” She set aside her empty plate, covering the dish with the lid again and returning it to the bamboo tray on the floor between them. Then, smoothing her hands over the gray cashmere that covered her knees, she said carefully, “So obviously you’re committed to staying in Catamount long term.”
Something about the way she said it made him wary. He took a sip of his water before answering.
“Will that be a problem for you, having me next door to Crooked Elm? I hadn’t counted on keeping the land at first since it was supposed to have been ours.” Actually, thinking about that now still hurt, so he shoved aside memories of what might have been between them. “But I’ve grown to feel more at home here than anywhere else I’ve ever lived.”
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it could be like for them living next door to one another. They could see each other this way again and again. Indulge the connection he’d never experienced with anyone else.
“Of course it’s fine,” she rushed to say, her fingers moving brusquely over the blanket to brush aside invisible crumbs. “I won’t be in Catamount much longer anyhow, even if we win the court case. After Jessamyn’s wedding, I’ll fly home to LA, so it’s not like we’d be seeing each other here anyway.”
There was so much upsetting in those few sentences that he didn’t know where to begin addressing the problems. She had to win the case, for one thing. He wasn’t going to allow Mateo Barclay to bribe his way into controlling the legacy Antonia had left to her granddaughters.
For another? He wasn’t ready for her to leave Colorado. Especially not after he’d finally admitted to himself—and a Routt County courtroom—that he wanted Lark back. But what bugged him most of all was the way she seemed to whisk away any feelings she had about him living next door to her as easily as she swiped at those nonexistent crumbs.
She’d strolled out of his life once before and she seemed destined to do it once again.
Setting aside his plate, he slid the tray out of the way and took her restless hands in his, needing to reroute her thoughts. Fast.
“Just remember who you’re bringing to that wedding.” Threading his fingers through hers, he watched her eyelashes flutter with his touch.
Her breathing quickened.
“How could I forget I promised you a date?” She shrugged a shoulder in a way that sent the blanket sliding down her arm, revealing more of her body in his T-shirt.
Her braless body.
And his T-shirt didn’t hide the tight points of her breasts pressing against the white silk fabric.
The vision proved too tempting to resist. He fell on her, his tongue swirling around the dark outline of her nipple through the material. Her back arched as she gasped, giving him more access. He sucked the peak into his mouth, greedy for the texture of her skin on his tongue.
They shifted and moved together, finding more space on the carpet so they had room to lay. Her on her back. Him levered up on one elbow to admire every inch of her in the glow of the firelight.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the thought reverberated through him with every rapid beat of his heart.
He’d scarcely dated since their divorce, failing to find enough interest to invest in more than a night out here and there. Yet with Lark, he was all in. Aching for contact.
Needing more time.
She cupped her fingers around his neck, twining them through his hair and drawing him near as she whispered, “Try anyway.”
Be careful what you wish for.
Or, maybe when it came to sensual wishes with the sexiest man imaginable, it was just as well for Lark to aim high. Because, oh my, did he deliver.
He raked off the T-shirt she wore, baring her breasts to firelight and his avid gaze. He stared for so long she knew he was strategizing a game plan for her, and she rolled her hips to urge him on. Then, his lips returned to her nipples, suckling lightly before edging back to blow a cool stream of air over one and then other. He nipped at the undersides.
All the while she worked to undress him. Finally, she peeled away the blue tee he wore from an old hockey team, revealing the compelling strength and size of his shirtless form.
