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But standing in his house at midnight sharing strange truths isn’t the way to get answers.
Breathing hard, I press a palm to my chest. My heart pumps like a freight train.
I’ll stay in the laundry room until my clothes are done. Then I’ll leave.
I look for a window to shimmy out of. No such luck.
Bad idea, this is a bad idea.
I know my own head. My heart.
Yes, I want sex, but sex with Charlie Montgomery skirts dangerous territory. Even the simple act of holding a conversation was a turn on. A spark ignited in me as his calloused thumb swept over my pulse. So intense, so intimate, I feel weak.
A rush of heat warms my core. I can’t imagine this cowboy in bed. And I can’t imagine myself with him.
Even if I want nothing more.
“Ruby.”
The deep rumble causes me to gasp. I spin around to find Charlie standing in the doorway of the laundry room.
Suddenly I feel so very dizzy.
“You scared me,” I manage to say.
“I’m sorry,” he grits out.
He looks like a raging cowboy—muscled and chest heaving, hands fisted at his side.
“I’m almost done,” I breathe. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
Suddenly, Charlie isn’t blocking my exit, but right in front of me, hauling me to his broad chest. His lips crash against mine. Our kiss is desperate and hungry. His big hands frame my face as our tongues tangle, and I moan into his mouth, losing myself in his passion.
I wind my arms around his neck, and with a groan, he hooks his large hands under my thighs and lifts me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and shove my hands through his dark hair.
In response, he growls into my mouth and pulls me tighter against him, our tongues battling for a win.
Lightheaded with desire, I whimper into his mouth. God, even a kiss from Charlie is so much better than the sex I had on graduation night.
It’s like I’ve finally let out a scream that’s been building in my lungs for the past twenty-six years.
And then the worst thing happens. He stops.
Jerking back like he’s been burned, Charlie slams into the washer, causing a hollow clanging sound to echo around us. But still, he holds onto me.
“This can’t be anything,” he grits out, his cornflower blue eyes wild and glassy with lust.
“It won’t be.”
My to-do list is a siren song inside my head. Logic out the window. All I want is good sex. It might as well be with Charlie Montgomery. He’s just a man. Just a cowboy.
“I’m leaving in a few months,” I gasp against his lips. “And you have a ranch to run.”
This isn’t real.
All it is, is the right now.
I kiss his lips again before trailing down to nip at the pulse in his throat. He moans, and I drop my hand, cupping his massive erection through the front of his jeans. He’s so big and solid, and I desperately want him inside of me.
