Roane, completely unaware of how he was affecting me, cursed under his breath once the sheep were behind the pens, and whipped off the T-shirt that was sticking to every inch of his torso.
My jaw hit the floor as he strode past me, oblivious, and bent toward an old-fashioned water pump that I hadn’t even noticed situated by the side of the house. He ducked his head under it, yanking on the pump handle, the movement making his muscles known.
When he stood, he flicked his head, water flying off the ends of his unruly thick hair.
I think I might have moaned.
It was like watching Darcy coming out of that pond or Poldark cutting the fields with his scythe.
Was I drooling? I felt like I might be drooling.
Roane bent down under the metal channel beneath the pump, pulled out a water bowl, and began to fill it. Shadow was already at his side, waiting for the offering, and eagerly bent to the bowl when Roane put it down for him.
When Roane straightened, he looked toward the hoop house, his brow furrowed as if he was contemplating something.
And I ogled.
He wasn’t roped and ripped the way a man who had time for visits to the gym might have been. No, he was something better. Although broad shouldered, Roane was lean and muscular from daily physical activity on the farm. Plus, he wasn’t waxed to an inch of his life. There was a fine sprinkling of hair over his chest, and he had a happy trail.
I hummed under my breath.
He was sexy and strong without making me feel bad about my own lack of gym visits.
Roane was what Greer called “naturally manlicious.”
A deep tug low in my belly made me bite my lip to stop a moan, and despite the heat, I felt a familiar tightening in my breasts.
Then he looked at me.
Roane’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared at whatever he saw in my expression. His face darkened with heat, and I hungrily watched a droplet of water take a path down the center of his chest, stomach, and then disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans.
“Oh, screw it.” I ran.
Actually ran.
I threw myself into his arms with the intention of locking our lips together.
Unfortunately, Roane wasn’t expecting my assault, and the water from the pump had turned the dirt under his feet soft and slippery.
As his arms closed around me, the impact of my body forced his back and his feet out from under him.
Roane landed on the ground with a pained groan, the impact made all the worse because the weight of my body flattened him.
“Oh my God.” I scrambled on top of him, my hands moving off his chest to brace on either side of his head. His handsome face was strained as he blinked up at me, apparently disoriented. “Are you okay?”
After a second of humiliating silence, Roane’s hands suddenly tightened on my waist and he rolled, pushing me to the ground. The water from the pump seeped into my tank top, but I couldn’t care less. Roane Robson was braced over me, half-naked, his gaze hot and searching. “Are we about to have sex?” he asked bluntly.
The question set my heart to racing.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His grin was immediate and oh so wicked. “Then, aye, angel. I’m fan-fucking-tastic.”
Seventeen
Roane jumped to his feet with more grace than a big guy like him should have been capable of and then bent down to haul me to my feet. Without a word, he grabbed me by the wrist and began marching us into the house. Shadow barked and followed us inside, and Roane paused momentarily to push the kitchen door open. “In, boy,” he directed, closing the door on Shadow, who gave another bark of disgruntlement.
Roane glanced at me. “It’s cool in there for him.”
I could only nod.
My heart was thundering in my chest, and my already sweat-slicked body was burning now from the inside.
Something voracious and sexual flashed in Roane’s eyes, and suddenly he was running up the stairs and I was hurrying to catch up with him. It was only then I realized we were both still wearing our dirty Wellington boots.
Not that we cared. It was the last thing on our minds.
He led me down a dark, narrow corridor and into what I surmised was the master bedroom at the front of the house. It was surprisingly light compared to the rest of the house. There was no heavy floral wallpaper in here. It was all pale gray walls, his large bed covered with dark gray linen.
The two small windows let light pour into the room.
It was stuffy and hot, and made me want to rip my clothes off even more than I already did.
Roane stopped by the side of the bed, turning to me, pulling me close until the length of our bodies pressed together. His hands coasted leisurely up and down my back, while his beautiful eyes searched my face.
“You sure this is what you want?” he asked, but before I could answer, his caresses stopped and his voice became gruff when he confessed, “Because this isn’t just sex for me, Evie. I want us to take a chance on each other, for real. And if you can’t do that, you need to walk away now.” His hands suddenly pushed deeper into my back, holding me tighter, closer, the gesture at odds with his words.
I trembled in his arms, despite the heat, a shiver tickling down my spine. I knew Roane. I knew that it would never just be sex for him. He wasn’t that guy. And he didn’t look at me like a guy who just wanted one thing.
He looked at me like a guy who wanted everything.
It was seductive, compelling, and despite all my concerns about how a relationship might derail me from working out my future plans, I couldn’t deny myself him anymore. Hadn’t I told myself all those months ago that if I realized love was something I wanted in my life, then I had to actively start pursuing it? Well, Roane Robson was one of a kind, and I’d be an absolute fool to walk away from the chance to see if what was between us could be something real.
Something epic.
In answer, I lifted my arms into the air, inviting him to remove my tank top.
Relief sparked in his eyes, hunger following quickly on its heels. My chest heaved with my labored, excited breaths as Roane’s fingers curled into the fabric. He fisted it and then slowly tugged the tank top up and over my head.
He dropped it to the floor, and a feeling of self-consciousness came over me as he dragged his gaze down, drinking in the sight of me in my bra. I might have legs for days and an impressively large chest, but I also had a rounded stomach that turned into belly rolls when I sat.
Maybe I tensed or Roane read my expression because he suddenly cupped my face in his large hands. His palms were hot and rough against my skin. “You’re perfect, Evie.”
“I’m not perfect.” I shook my head with a wry smile as I lifted a hand to tickle my fingertips across one of his pecs. Not like you. His eyes fluttered at my touch, a shudder moving through him that made me feel extremely powerful. Okay, maybe I wasn’t perfect, but Roane seemed to like all that I was anyway.