“You’ve lived in this house with me for weeks and it’s all I can do to keep my distance. I’m tired of keeping my distance. Tired of pretending you’re not beautiful, not tempting, not driving me crazy.” He caught her by the wrist and drew her toward him, pulling her against him, even as he shifted his left arm away, keeping it from being jostled. “I want you, Erika. I want you bad.”
Her head tipped back, and her bright glowing eyes met his. “You only want me because you can’t have me.”
“Not true. I want you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and you fill my thoughts and you haunt my dreams, and I wake up every morning aching for you.” His head dropped, his lips brushing the curve of her warm cheek. She smelled like coconut cream, reminding him of summer and sunny beaches and icy blended cocktails. “At the same time, I’m not going to force you into kissing me. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. So if you want me to let you go, tell me now, and I will. I’ll let you go and I’ll walk out of here and we’ll act like this has never happened.”
“Even though it happened?”
He laughed, a rumble of mocking sound. “Nothing has happened, and nothing will happen if you’re not interested.”
He felt the tremor course through her, her slim frame swaying, her breasts brushing his chest even as her gaze searched his, the tip of her tongue darting out to touch her upper lip. “You know I like you,” she said lowly, as if in protest.
“Not half as much as I like you.”
Heat flared in her eyes, and she swayed against him again. He slid his right arm around her, his palm on the small of her back, pressing her closer. She shuddered at the contact, leaning against him more fully, and his body went hot and hard. She was warm, soft, everything he liked and he dropped his head, and captured her mouth with his.
She tasted like cinnamon and sugar and he had to have more. He parted her lips, tongue stroking her soft mouth, and then inside of her mouth, showing her just what he wanted to do to her body. Love it. Taste it. Devour it.
She whimpered and pressed closer. He stroked up her back, his hand sliding under her hair to her soft nape, his palm cupping the back of her head, fingers pressing against her scalp. The kiss was hot and hungry, full of weeks of pent-up desire. She looked like an angel but kissed like sin and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.
Erika stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked her backward until he’d pushed her against the counter, the better to lean into her body, the better for creating pressure and friction.
She must have liked the pressure of his erection against his thighs because she whimpered and shifted her hips, trying to capture more sensation. The sexy shift of her hips made him harden further. If she wanted pleasure, he knew just how to deliver. He’d make her feel so good she’d never want anyone else, ever again.
The very idea of her with anyone else made him feel possessive, and he never felt possessive. How could he when he didn’t want a relationship?
But kissing Erika, touching her, made him think that just maybe there was no one else he wanted to touch, and kiss, but her.
And the realization that he wanted to be the one for her, the only one, shocked him. He broke off the kiss, stared down into her lovely eyes, eyes cloudy with passion and the sweet heat of their kiss, and wondered what had just happened? She’d just rocked his world but he didn’t know what to do about it.
Didn’t know what to do with her.
Normally, he’d take a woman to bed at this point, but there was no taking Erika to bed. That wasn’t the logical next step. Problem was, there was no logical next step. Not with her. Not now. Maybe not ever.
*
In her bedroom, Erika sank onto the edge of her bed, fingertips pressed to her swollen lips.
That kiss was so good.
So unbelievably hot.
She exhaled slowly, lips still tingling, pulse thudding. She felt boneless. Spineless. Her insides hot, molten… matching the need aching within her.
She wanted him, wanted so much more of him, and it didn’t make sense because she knew him and he wasn’t what she needed, but oh, she wanted him. She’d never felt this way before. She literally felt as if she burned… that he’d lit a fire inside of her and the fire had to be answered. The fire needed more heat, more touch, more of him.
She knew who he was, too. She knew all too well how he operated. But her body didn’t care, and her heart, well, that had never listened very well to her, either.
Her heart had a mind of its own and for some reason it just thought Billy Wyatt was it. The beginning and the end and everything in between.
*
Erika wasn’t the only one rattled by the kiss. Billy was in trouble. He already felt so much respect for her. Respect, and admiration, and trust. The chemistry had been there, too, chemistry that had drawn him in from the start, but he hadn’t expected a kiss to confuse him.
Kisses weren’t confusing.
But that one was.
After walking away from her in the kitchen, he’d headed outside. The sun had come and gone, the sky was lavender in places, and purple in others. He walked to the corral, empty now, his horses in their stalls in the barn for the night, and leaned into the top railing. He felt turned inside out, his chest all knotted, his gut cramping with needles and pins.
Erika.
Man, she’d felt good. Unbelievably good. As he’d stroked the length of her, she’d shivered and arched and her sensitivity had driven him wild. If just kissing her fully clothed was that electric, he couldn’t imagine her in bed. Or, he could, and it made him hard, and throb, as if he were an inexperienced kid. But he wasn’t inexperienced, and he’d had more than his fair share of women, but he couldn’t remember any woman turning him on this much.
He couldn’t remember feeling so primal about a woman, either.
When she’d been in his arms, all he could think was mine. Mine, mine, mine.
Crazy.
He wasn’t possessive, he didn’t ever feel a need to lay claim to a woman. Why would he, when he didn’t think long-term? But tonight, kissing Erika, he did. He wanted her, and it had crossed his mind that if he were a caveman, he’d throw her over his shoulder and run to his cave, make love to her there so that she’d never leave his bearskin. Never leave his fire.
The fact that he was even thinking these thoughts meant he’d lost his mind.
He’d spent too much time in the cabin, too much time in lockdown. He needed to get back on the road, back to his world of asphalt and trailers, parking lots and competition. A couple weeks of tough rides and hard falls should clear his head and remind him who he was.
A confirmed bachelor.
A man without commitments.
Because he didn’t commit. He didn’t fall in love. He couldn’t promise her forever.
Until he was traveling again, he had to be careful to put distance between them.
Actual, physical distance, as well as more boundaries—space, time apart, less intimate situations. And certainly, no more touching, no more kissing, no more displays of affection.
*
The next morning, after coffee, Billy exiled himself to the barn. He didn’t want eggs. He just wanted to be alone. It was the first time he’d spent an entire morning outside since his injury, and even though there were things he couldn’t do, there was a lot he could. He focused on the horses, and mucking stalls one-handed, and then gingerly bridling and saddling each, exercising both in the corral attached to the barn. It felt good to be in the saddle again, and even though his goal had been to exercise them, he realized he had needed the exercise, too.