Page 157 of Holding On To Good

He loved her cowboy boots.

She took another hesitant, half step toward him. “What happens next? In your fantasy?”

“The first thing that happens,” he told her, slowly, succinctly, a definite challenge in his tone, “is that you shut the door.”

More hesitation on her part. More doubts.

More fears.

He hated them all. Hated that she didn’t trust him. That she didn’t trust herself.

That she was afraid of the one thing he wanted most in the world.

But then she took that final, tiny step that brought her fully into the room and, eyes on his, shut the door behind her.

Triumph flashed through him. Lust surged like a wild animal lunging toward its prey, and it took all he had to remain motionless in the chair and not press her against the door and take what he wanted.

He didn’t want to take it.

He wanted her to give it to him. To give him everything she was holding back.

Lifting his chin, he indicated the door. “Lock it.”

Her eyes widened, her voice dropping to a shocked, scandalized—and, if he wasn’t mistaken, intrigued—whisper. “Are there people here when you imagine us…”

“It’s more symbolic.”

Her expression fell and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Oh.”

Did she…Jesus, was she disappointed?

“Would you like that?” he asked roughly.

Eyes still on the floor, she shrugged, but her breasts rose and fell in quick bursts, her nipples visible through the silky material of her top. Desire turned all that pretty, pale skin pink.

“Willow.” He waited until she reluctantly raised her gaze to his. “Would you like that?”

Holding his gaze, letting him see the truth there, in the depths of her green eyes, she nodded. “Yes,” she admitted, soft but clear. “I’d like that.”

The animal inside of him roared and he sat up. Gripped the armrests so hard, his knuckles ached. “Come here.”

She didn’t move. “Is that what happens next? You tell me to come to you?”

He shook his head. “You just do.”

“Do I say anything?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you lay it out for me?” she asked, eyes glinting with her own challenge. “Step by step.”

His mouth dried. He didn’t know what was hotter. That she was getting so into this. Or that one of his longtime sexual fantasies was about to come true.

Pretty much a tie, there.

“After you lock the door,” he managed through the desire tightening his throat, “you walk toward me. Slow. Steady. The only sounds are the click of your heels on the floor. The light swish of your skirt as it brushes your thighs. And I wish it was me touching your skin. My fingers skimming along your inner thigh. My lips.”

“And when I reach you?”

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