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“Do you want to know what I think about when I’m with other women?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Ever obstinate. Always pushing every goddamned one of his buttons.
“You, Bird. I think of you.”
God, how he hated this emotional bullshit. Despised admitting that she was his greatest weakness. That he wanted her too much.
Wanting something or someone to this degree wasn’t healthy and never ended well.
He needed to get control of himself.
Maintaining some semblance of self-control had been a lifelong effort. A repetitive mantra in his head that kept him balanced and even-tempered.
As soon as Birdie the Windstorm Wellborn hit Wayward with thirty mph wind gusts and that beguiling smile, all his attempts to rein it in, to ignore his fucking beating heart, went out the door, running around like a fucking mindless banshee.
He felt her fingers at his hairline, as if smoothing the damage he had done. It took the resolve equal to that of a military battalion to keep him from melting into a puddle of emotional goo, all because her fingers were touching his goddamned fucking hair.
Would he ever get over this woman? Would he ever stop loving her?
He froze at the silent admission. He couldn’t love this woman. It was impossible to even consider. As soon as he would allow those feelings to sweep him at the knees, she’d be gone. To wreak hellfire and havoc elsewhere. To upend someone else from the very depths of their soul and then saunter away with a heartless smirk.
She whispered, with a hint of a smile that made his heart stop, “So, let me get this straight. You want to fuck me next to a stegosaurus bone?
He hung his head.
Jesus, this woman.
He simply nodded, unable to fight back.
“Lucas, will you take me home?” she asked, forcing him to look at her after laying everything before her. Open and exposed.
Yeah, he’d take her home. Take her anywhere under any terms and despite the consequences. After so many years of denying her hold on him, the rush of possessing her physically was inescapable.
“To my place?” he rasped, as if gravel had taken up residence in his throat.
With a whisper of a smile she shook her head. “To mine.”
