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But the way his body shifted toward me, like a sunflower chasing the light, felt less like a business opportunity and more like something romantic. I liked being his sun, if only for a few moments on the top of a hill far from reality.
We leaned closer. His hand skated up my arm, twisting me toward him. I came willingly. The first touch of our lips was delicate. We tested each other. Tentative. Careful. At our age, jumping in with wild abandon wasn’t comfortable or wise. We all carried the weight of our pasts, despite our best intentions.
He cradled my jaw, and I surrendered. The kiss grew bold. Our tongues tangled and brushed over each other. Starved for air but unwilling to give up his mouth even to refill my lungs, I gasped against his lips and he pulled me back, reluctant to let me go even for a moment.
It was intoxicating. I was drunk on him, reckless, and ready for anything. Everything.
My toes curled in my boots. I ached for him. It was a kiss like I’d read about in fairy tales. Real life transformed into a dreamland. He groaned into my mouth; it could have been my name. I swallowed the sound, savoring the chance to possess anything of this man.
I couldn’t remember the last kiss I never wanted to end. That I wanted to turn into more. But before I could act on my disordered desires, an unwelcome hum cut into our shared euphoria.
We froze. His hand slid from my face, and I pushed back, putting space between us. His lips shone with our shared wetness. I could feel the same on my mouth.
The engine of the ATV coming to save us from ourselves grew louder. Our chance to say anything without an audience dwindled while we stared wordlessly at each other. And then it disappeared.
I shot to my feet and staggered away, almost knocking Wilson from the log in my flurry of movement, and not for the first time in my life, I cursed Jethro. No way would I let Jethro roll up on Wilson and me, making out like a pair of teenagers. It would have been a disaster. Jethro would either puff up like some rooster and try to stake a claim on me or flap his loose lips all over town, adding fuel to the gossip fire.
Eyes glued on the end of the trail, I braced myself for what was to come. Drunk on Wilson, I tried to clear my head of all sexy thoughts. With an unsteady hand, I wiped the evidence of our kiss from my still-tingling lips.
I’d gone from the most heart-stopping kiss of my last decade to managing small-town gossip in a split second. My life was a train wreck. And unless I focused on my real estate deal and not on how good of a kisser Wilson was, I’d probably end up with an even bigger mess on my hands.
“Take a last look at the view. Our rescue will be here any moment.” I pitched my voice louder to carry over the distance between us and the noise of the approaching ATV.
Wilson still sat on the log, his back to me. I was glad I didn’t have to face him. Not yet. My head swam with dozens of conflicting ideas, each part of my brain shouting out reasons our kiss was bad or good. Horrible or glorious.
Down on the river, the kayaker made his way around the far bend, disappearing from view. His progress was the only way I could guess how long Wilson and I had spent in each other’s arms.
Chapter 13
Wilson
Whatviewwasshetalking about? Her ass or the river? Both were glorious and worthy of extended contemplation. I shook my head and tried to gather my wits with little success. They were long gone, scattered on the Texas wind by a mountaintop kiss.
One seriously intense kiss. The imprint of her hand on my thigh buzzed on my flesh like static electricity. She’d gripped my leg inches from my raging erection. Those three inches felt like miles too far. And yet, way too close.
My attraction to my real estate agent was getting out of control, getting… I snorted and laughed at myself. We’d passed that stage. Compartmentalizing my feelings had failed. The only option: limit interactions.
If I wasn’t alone with Cameron, I couldn’t make bad choices.
Inconvenient hard-ons were apparently the theme of the day. I arranged the hem of my shirt over the front of my pants. The incessant hum of the approaching ATV with the aforementioned Jethro aboard also helped put a damper on the situation in my jeans.
I stood and steeled myself for the arrival of what I could only assume would be a backward hat-wearing yokel with three teeth and a mullet in a deputy’s uniform. I blamed the stereotypical image my brain conjured on his name. Jethro.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The deputy zoomed into the clearing, a cloud of dust and gravel kicked up by his skidding stop. He was tall, built, and looked ten years younger than me. If that Hemsworth guy who played Thor in the movies ever traded in his ax for an ATV, this would be the glory shot in his next movie. Jethro rocked a too-tight khaki uniform and a gun strapped to his belt like Hemsworth did a leather skirt and a hammer.
I did not have this on today’s bingo card.
Jethro leaped from the still-idling ATV and rushed to Cameron. He didn’t spare me a glance. With care, he cradled her elbow in his hand and kissed her cheek. The way he lingered, smelling her hair, pissed me off at a visceral level.
That asshole was totally into my, er, real estate agent.
I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I should congratulate Cameron on her status as a cougar. Attracting the slavish devotion of a hot, young stud in uniform. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I discarded it quickly.
Jethro’s hands slid up and down Cameron’s arms, and his eyes roamed her body, looking for injuries. She tried to step away, but the deputy insisted on being thorough. And I thought I might insist on punching him in the face.
It should be my hands on her. Whoa. Where did that come from?
