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She bites her lip, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t deny that she’s got every intention of leaving. Now that she’s not starring front and center on Thad’s most wanted list, she’ll pack up and go.
And take my heart with her.
I do some fast thinking while I carry her to my RV. When we reach the trailer, I shift her in my arms and reach for the door. Hesitate.
“I need to tell you something.” She rolls her eyes, but I keep talking. Sometimes, all you can do is dig a line in the ground and hope like hell the fire doesn’t jump it. Sometimes, all you have is hope. “I love you, and I’d like to take you inside and show you. Or talk about it. Or just make plans for what we’re going to do together for the next sixty years or so.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for her response. Just standing here on the steps to my RV, holding her tight in my arms, is about as close to heaven as I’m ever getting.
She chews on her lower lip. “You want to talk?”
“Sure.” I drop a kiss on her forehead. Now I’m hoping that’s a down payment on about a million more kisses. “If you’re ready to listen to me. But I’d also like to show you that loaning someone else some of your self-control doesn’t have to suck.”
She looks at the closed door. “Take me inside,” she says. That’s not a yes—but it’s not a no, either. I’ll take what I can get.
I carry her inside the RV and kick the door shut behind us. It’ll take a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I can find the bed with my eyes closed, even carrying precious cargo. I’ve walked this path hundreds of times, half-dead on my feet after days in the field. I set her down in the center of the mattress and flip on a light.
She promptly rolls over, shoving her wrists up at me. “Now untie me.”
She’s sprawled on my bed, on her knees, hands bound behind her. My head can’t decide if I should try for a romantic heart-to-heart or just skip ahead to a very filthy happily-ever-after. I have such a dirty mind. Her mussed-up, trussed-up look is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. She’s all long legs, her shorts riding up her ass and her hair tumbled around her face. She looks like she’s just got out of bed, and it’s a good look for her.
“Give me a minute.” I sound hoarse. “You don’t think you could enjoy this some? Because it’s really, really working for me.”
She wiggles her wrists at me. “You like having me tied up?”
“I like having you trust me,” I say. “The tied-up thing is just an added bonus.”
“Does this mean I get to tie you up tomorrow?”
I should have raided Deputy Douche’s supply of zip-ties. How come I’ve never bought a silk necktie?
“If you promise to be very, very nice to me.”
She giggles. She actually fucking giggles.
I think… she might like me. This. Us.
I gently press her down on her stomach. “You’re making it damned hard to behave.”
I press against her back, giving her a taste of my weight. The move traps her wrists between us, and her fingers brush first my stomach and then my dick as she wriggles. Not a no kind of wriggle, but a yes let me get closer move.
I don’t have any fancy words. I haven’t planned for this. I don’t have roses, a Hallmark verse, or even a plan. “Stay with me? I’m a hotshot when you deserve a prince, but I’m good at my job. I’ll always be able to take care of you.”
“Idiot,” she whispers. I believe that could be interpreted as sexist, stupid guy who thinks I’ll be his Suzy Homemaker. She doesn’t get it. I just want her to be Sarah Jo—but with me.
“You might want to be careful,” I whisper, “passing out insults when you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back.”
I brush my mouth against her neck, giving her a series of little kisses. My dick is doing an excellent imitation of an iron bar, but he’ll have to wait. I’m just hoping it’s not forever.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she says slowly.
“True,” I agree, and kiss her ear. She makes that husky, moaning gasp I love so much. “But will you let me?”
