Her brief smile matched his. She nodded. “A little anyway.” Their gazes met and held for the longest time, and, looking into those crystal-blue depths, she saw eyes that had seen so much now. They were no longer innocent, if they ever had been, and yet they were so deeply, utterly familiar. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling a whole lot of things she really didn’t want to be feeling. Childhood things, daring, adventurous things . . . very adult things. “I guess I have a whole library full of videos to watch if I want to know you better.”
“That’s only one part of me,” he said. “You know . . .” He drifted off, then shook his head. Now it was his turn to break eye contact, look away, maybe debate, as she had, what he wanted to say. When he looked back, his gaze was more penetrating, not less, so focused, she felt pinned by it. And the way that made her feel wasn’t at all bad.
“You know the me that no one else does, Cheyenne. Not even Tory knows me like you do. That’s still me, too. A lot has changed, but it all came from who I was. That never changes.”
She could feel the intensity emanating from him like a live, vital thing. She nodded but didn’t look away. Couldn’t look away. “I missed you, Wy.” The words that had been dancing out to the tip of her tongue just leapt off before she could stop them. And with that breach, it was like the dam broke. “So much,” she whispered, horrified she’d said it the moment the words were out. More horrified still to hear the crack in her voice. Completely done in when she felt fully formed tears sting the corners of her eyes.
“Aw, Chey,” he said, a throaty rasp in his voice, too. “I was wrong to leave things how I did. Wrong to just bomb you with my feelings, then not give you time to—”
She shook her head, hard, as if willing him not to say anything else.
“I read every e-mail. Listened to your voice mails. So many times. I kept them, first because I was hurt, and mad, at myself, at you. They motivated me to move on, to better myself. Later I kept them because I knew I’d made a huge mistake.” When she looked away, unable to bear the words, see the sheen that stole across his eyes, he lifted a hand, touched her chin to turn her gaze back to his. “Maybe the biggest mistake of my life.”
His touch did her in entirely. The mere brush of his fingertips sent shudders of sensation rocketing to every pleasure point she had, shot her heart rate up so fast her chest pounded. She wanted to jerk away, yank open the truck door, turn the key, and drive and drive and drive. As far away from him as she could get.
“Then I didn’t write you back, didn’t come back, because I thought it was too late. I was a man on a mission.”
“So, maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all,” she managed.
“It sure as hell feels like one.” His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth and she saw his throat work. The restrained energy she felt in response to the way he looked at her, so hungrily, made her gasp. The dark pupils of his eyes instantly expanded, swallowing up all that beautiful blue, swallowing her up with it.
The punch of need she felt was so swift, her knees shook with the effort it took to hold still.
His gaze lifted to hers again, searching, wanting, needing. Oh, so very, very, needy. “I knew if I saw you again, I’d be tempted to forget all about that, and do what I should have done the moment I got your first note, telling me how you felt, what you’d realized after I’d gone.”
“What is that?” she asked, trembling as an entire lifetime of feelings rose up and threatened to burst free, all at once.
As if it had been inevitable, that everything would eventually lead them to this exact moment, he slid his broad, warm, callused palms over her cheeks, sinking his fingertips into her hair, knocking her cowboy hat to the ground unheeded, as he cupped the back of her neck and lifted her mouth to his. While she did absolutely nothing to stop him.
“This.”
Chapter Six
As colossal mistakes went, it was possibly the worst one he’d ever made. Worse than telling her he loved her, worse than walking away from her. And even knowing that did absolutely nothing to dampen the feeling of utter joy that filled him the moment her lips parted under his. It was revelatory, like nothing else he’d ever experienced, and it swamped him. Filling up all the empty spaces he hadn’t known still existed. He was kissing Cheyenne McCafferty, and it felt like the whole world had just woken up . . . and bloomed.
Home. Finally. Those were the two words that kept echoing inside his head. He’d traveled to the four corners of the earth trying to find his place on it. When he’d kept going, and going . . . and going, he’d told himself his place was on all of it. But he’d known, had always known, his place was right here, in front of her. Wherever that happened to be.
He lifted his mouth from hers, slid his hands to her shoulders, and pulled her gently into his arms. He wanted more. So much more. He wanted it all. All of her. Her body, yes, but so much more than that. He wanted her sharp mind, her bold laughter, her teasing gibes and clever remarks, her insights and advice. Her love.
He rested his cheek on top of her head. “I should probably make an apology for that. But not a single part of me is sorry.”
His knees might have buckled just a bit with relief when she slipped her arms around his waist and stayed in the circle of his arms. She rested her forehead on his chest, gaze cast downward. “I’m not asking for one,” she said quietly.
He lifted his head and nudged her until she looked up and met his gaze. “Hi,” he said, his smile meant to charm her. He didn’t do a single thing to try to hide what he was feeling. “I’m Wyatt Reed. You remind me of a girl I used to know.”
Relief again when she responded in kind. “Funny. I knew a guy with that same name.” Her lips twitched. “You’re nothing like him, though.”
His brows rose. “Oh?”
She shook her head, her smile bemused, her eyes lighting up with that mischievous glint he knew so well. “He would never have done what you just did.”
“Too scared?” Wyatt asked.
She shook her head again. “Too stupid.”
He winced even as he chuckled. “Then he for sure didn’t deserve you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Good thing I’m nothing like him, then.”
Her smile slid from mischievous to downright devilish. Then she shocked the hell out of him by sliding her hand to the back of his neck and nudging his mouth down to hers. “That’s what I was thinking.” And this time, she took him.
Colossal mistake? Or the best thing you’ve ever done?
Yeah, he had no idea, but he was too busy letting her kiss the socks off him to care.
She broke the kiss that time, her eyes still twinkling as she beamed up at him. “Definitely nothing like him.”
“I almost feel sorry for the poor guy.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “He turned out all right.”
He ducked his head, feeling flattered and chastened, all at the same time. “Chey—”
“Don’t,” she said, quickly but not harshly. “I don’t want to—” She broke off, shook her head, then said, “Let’s just let this be . . . whatever it was, okay?”