Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Yeah. That they found each other, you know? And maybe made better choices than I did.”
I want him to tell me about those choices. At this point, I’m dying to know this man’s story. But my instincts are telling me not to push too hard. He’ll tell me if—when—he’s ready.
“Good for you working through that stuff,” I say. “Just so you know, men going to therapy is kind of the sexiest thing ever.”
He opens the door, a pleasant gust of warm evening air greeting us. Crickets pulse in the background.
He lets out a low chuckle as he reaches up to curl his hand over the top of the door. “You think I’m sexy?”
Tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth, I nod. “A little, yeah.”
“Just a little?”
Christ, can we fuck already?
“Fine. More than a little.”
He groans. “Text me when you get home?”
“Since when do you care whether I get taken out by a bear?”
“Since my son became obsessed with you. And yeah, bear maulings are bad for business.”
“You would say that.” God, I wish I could quit smiling. Must. Go. Now. “Thanks again for dinner. This really was a treat.”
“You need to get out more.”
I step through the door. “No shit. You need to be less grumpy like this all the time. Although I get it.”
He follows me outside and closes the door behind him. “Get what?”
“Why you’re grumpy. It’s because you’re angry.” I turn my head, and our gazes do that colliding thing. The air between us crackles. “I’m not afraid of it, you know. Your anger.”
“Oh, Dallas, I know.”
“But I’m starting to understand it. Maybe because I’m angry too. I could probably work on accepting some things in my life too. Wow, Colt, do I actually have something to learn from you?”
The expression in his eyes morphs. Becomes hungry.
“You just used it,” he says. “My name. The one I like.”
I hadn’t even realized it. “Oh. You’re welcome.”
“I’m teachin’ you to ride.” His eyes flick over my body. “But that’s not the only thing I got expertise in. I got plenty to teach you.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, fighting a smile. “I thought we weren’t going to tee each other up anymore?”
“When the hell did we ever agree to that?”
“I…okay, fine, I don’t think we did.” I clear my throat. “Anyway. You have a lot on your plate. Doing all this”—I glance back at the house—“all by yourself is unfair. You didn’t ask for things to be this way. But you’re making the best of it, even though it’s gotta be overwhelming and hard and just—yeah, so damn thankless sometimes.”
He doesn’t say anything. My pulse thrums in my ears. For a second, I think I’ve overstepped. Maybe he just wanted to keep flirting instead of getting real or deep.
“And you.” His voice is husky. “You’re angry because you’ve been taught to put everyone else first. Which implies that they have more value than you do. No one deserves to come second in their own lives, Lainey.”
My mouth has gone dry. This cowboy is smart.
Sensitive.
He gets it. And he goes to therapy.
Sexiest. Man. Alive.
“Women deserve that,” I reply, a little breathless. “To come second, I mean. That’s what so many of us are taught anyway.”
He turns and takes a step toward me. “Why do you think I insist you come first when you’re with me?”
I step back and to the side a little, my shoulder blades meeting with the siding next to the door. “That was once.”
His gaze glimmers in the light from a nearby window as he rests a hand on the siding right beside my head. “Care to make it twice? I am a giver.”
His scent overwhelms me. I drop my bag, which lands with a small thump on the ground.
“I like that about you. Makes me feel…good. Really good.” Like I matter.
He husks out a laugh as he does the lean. The one that’s wildly, obscenely sexy, his face an inch from mine.
“Happy to hear.” He ducks his head to kiss my neck, nicking my jaw with his teeth. The scrape of his scruff against my skin sends need bolting through me. It lands with a decisive yes between my legs.
I let him know I’m in by slipping a hand inside his shirt. His rock-hard stomach caves at the contact. I marvel at how smooth and warm his skin is, my thumb catching on a trail of wiry hair that arrows down his middle.
“Gimme a yes, honey.” He nips at the underside of my jaw.
I run my palm up the length of his side. His skin is hot to the touch. “You really need me to say it again?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“There’s my good girl.” His mouth works its way across my jaw. “Tell me why you won’t let me kiss you.”
So hot.
So, so hot when he calls me his good girl.