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“Every. Last. Bit.”
CHAPTERFOUR
Grace
His words drip down my spine like honey.
Can I proceed with this, knowing how much deceit is between us?
Buck pays for our meal and steers me out of the bar and up the street toward his truck. His hand on the small of my back feels far too natural, and I’m dangerously close to letting myself feel his protection and assurance. But oh, how good it feels to have that, if just for now.
What happens next? Everything in me hums with anticipation.
The sound of strings floats our way. I glance up the street toward the park to see a live string band playing at the gazebo.
Buck sees me glance that way, and he stops.
He smiles down at me, already knowing what I’m thinking. “Yeah, I could go for some music and dancing.”
I didn’t have to ask. I love that.
Couples are slow dancing when we arrive at the park as the live ensemble plays string arrangements of romantic classics. Playing lead fiddle is Maya from Ruby’s Diner, who moved in with and married Silent Doyle a few years ago. I’ve always been a little jealous of her creative talents and of her home. Doyle lived like a hermit in one of the oldest historical homes in Fate. Now, their home is a showpiece on every holiday, and Doyle has come out of his shell in the best way. A brood of little kids surrounds him on the grass as they all watch their mother, Doyle’s wife.
At first we just listen. “Can you see ok?” Buck asks with his hand on my waist as he leans against a tree trunk. I’m standing in front of him, and I nod.
“Good,” he says, his voice close to my ear. His arms slip under mine, and the next thing I know, Buck’s arms are around my waist, and I’m leaning back against him. He’s warm and solid, and exactly how I thought it would feel to have a husband. I feel protected. Doted on. Seen.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Grace. He’s just one man. It’s just a first date.
Oh shut up,I tell that negator that lives on my shoulder.
“This is nice,” he says, his arms circling my middle.
“Mmhmm,” I affirm.
I shiver as I feel his chest expand on a deep inhale, his mouth and nose pressed against the crown of my head. “You smell good.”
A shy chuckle is all I can do because I have no words.
“Am I distracting you? I’m sorry.”
“You are not sorry,” I chuckle.
“You’re right, I’m not. You just feel so good in my arms; I’m having a hard time concentrating on the music.”
I turn my face slightly to catch his downward gaze. “There’s no rule that says you have to concentrate on the music,” I say softly to not disturb other people enjoying the concert.
A strange look spreads over his face, and he angles down to kiss me.
But he doesn’t take my lips; not right away. His mouth finds my throat and strings tantalizing kisses along the cords there. The touch of his lips to my skin sets off a reaction in multiple places simultaneously. My nipples bead under my clothes, I feel heat pulse in my veins, and a yearning in the untouched regions below my waist.
“Buck.”
“Should I stop?”
“No,” I breathe.
A low growl rumbles against my throat, and his hands at my waist tug me closer. Something rigid and long presses into my lower back, and I suck in a breath.
