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I give a small nod, trying to conceal my turmoil, but he sees right through me.
"You know, Mariah," he begins, resting his arm on the steering wheel and turning to face me, "I know you have an expectation of how this thing goin' on between us is supposed to be. But it doesn't have to be that way."
"And what do you suggest?" I ask, my eyes searching his.
"Way I see it is we've got two options. One, you get out of this truck and go into that cottage on your own and we keep this as just friends. Or two, I get out with you and we spend the night learnin' all about what makes the other curl up their toes. But if you pick option two, then this thing is on, and I won't be backin' off until you promise to be mine for the long haul."
I sit frozen in my seat, my breath caught in my throat. "I...I..." I stammer, my mind whirling with a million thoughts. This wasn't part of the plan. I came here to ogle, to drink with my best friend, to be carefree and spontaneous. I just wanted fun. Not....Notfeelings.
Clark looks at his watch, then back at me. "Time's tickin', city."
"What if I don't want to choose yet?" I say in a rush, something kind of like panic clawing inside of me as my mind races. I'm not ready to give him up. But I'm not ready to jump into anything either.
"Then I guess I'll do the choosin' for you." He grins and bounces a shoulder like nothing about this phases him.
Everything about this phases me.
"Jesus, Clark. Why can't you just be like every other guy? Why can't you just fuck me and forget me?"
"Oh, darlin'." His eyes soften. "There's no forgettin' a girl like you."
Without giving myself time to seriously think about the implications, I lean in and press a kiss to his cheek before getting out of the truck. We look at each other for a long moment before he follows me, and I force myself to unlock the front door. This man is making it dangerously easy to forget my rules.
A shiver runs through me when the sound of Clark's boot hits the porch, and I leave my key in the lock, turning to face him.
"Clark..."
He catches me about the waist, and when he leans down, I place a hand on his chest like it's a shield that could hold him.
"Decision's made, city. I'm not walkin' away."
"I don't want to hurt you, Clark. I..."I don't want to hurt me...
Clark tightens his grip on my waist, tugging me closer. "I'm a big boy, Mariah. I know what I'm getting into." He tips my chin up. "And I know what I want."
My reservations weaken in the face of his earnestness. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
I suck in my breath as Clark lowers his mouth to mine. His kiss starts tender and slow, as if he's savoring each careful movement. His free hand sneaks down to my ass, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every inch of him pressed against me, from his solid chest to his lean hips. It's as if his body is branding itself onto mine, marking me as his. My heart lodges in my throat. I don't know if I can give him anywhere near what he wants from me. But the one thing that I do know is that I want him. Right in this moment, I want him more than anything.
As we kiss, I can smell the faint scent of hay and leather on his skin—a mix of cowboy and Clark all blended together. I taste a hint of the mint gum he'd been chewing earlier. Subtle but not unnoticed. My mind goes blank, save for one thought: I want more. Our lips part reluctantly and I find myself pulling awayfrom him, my breath coming hard. "You're making this really difficult," I say in a shaky voice, trying to regain some control over the situation. But it's no use. He looks at me with such intensity that I forget myself again and let him lead me inside the cottage by the hand, the expectation and hesitancy twisting in my stomach like a coiled snake.
When we make it to the dimly lit room, the soft pillows and faded quilt seem to mock me with their innocence. It's a stark contrast to the heat that simmers between Clark and me, and when he closes the door behind us then gently pushes me onto the bed, I feel the familiar quake of fear and desire within me, fighting for dominance. I'm not sure I can do this, but a part of me is desperate to know Clark in all the ways he seems to want to know me. And number one on that list is intimately.
"Clark," I breathe as he moves closer, the weight of his body dipping the mattress as he holds himself over me.
"Mariah," he returns, not moving as he looks into my eyes. And even though all the reasons why this is a bad idea are swimming through my mind, I can't seem to make myself say anything else. I simply reach up and fist my hand against the flannel of his work shirt and tug him closer until his mouth collides with mine and we're rocking our bodies against each other like a couple of teenagers making out under the bleachers.
While his tongue explores my mouth, his calloused hands roam over my body, fingers tracing every curve through my thin dress. I gasp as he palms one breast, kneading the flesh through the fabric until I can feel the taut peak of my nipple straining against it.
He groans as his other hand slides down to grip my ass, pulling me flush against his hard arousal. The contact makes me whimper into his mouth, heat pooling low in my abdomen. I grind myself against him, seeking more friction.
"Need somethin' more from me, darlin'?" he rasps, his voice a satisfied rumble in his chest as we rock together, and all I can do is give a nod that's pathetically weak, unable to form the words to ask for what I need.
Clark smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching as he shifts lower and nuzzles against my neck, sucking marks onto my skin while his hands work on unbuttoning my sundress. I shiver as each button pops open and a cool rush of air teases the hot flush of my skin.
"Oh. Clark..." His name is a desperate plea falling from my lips as his rough hands slip inside my dress to cup bare breasts.
