Page 352 of Steamy Ever After

I let my gaze flit, bouncing from the ceiling to the dark depths of the interior of the barn, until it finally settles on the stubble of his jaw.

He doesn’t wait for me to answer, but crowds me in, towering over me.

“I really hope you say yes, city girl.” He threads his fingers through the length of my hair, grasping the strands as his lips hover, a kiss away. “But you can say no. I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do.”

His need whispers through me, potent, powerful, and raw. Then he shifts, touching our foreheads together as if he has all the time in the world to let this moment hang between us. For a man who says he’s not a patient man, he sure is letting this moment linger.

It’s intoxicating, wholly unexpected, deliciously raw, and absolutely carnal.

Primal.

His fingers glide to my neck.

“If you don’t want this, say no.” His gruff tone catches me off guard. “Because I’m not going to stop if you say yes.”

What do I want? I don’t know anything about Drake, except our connection grows stronger with each beat of my heart. The seconds lengthen with me too tongue-tied to say what’s on my mind.

He saved me from certain death, but am I ready to hop into bed with another man? Is that what we’re talking about? A quick romp in the hay?

And then what?

It would be fun, and to be honest, I kind of need that sort of validation after what I’ve been through. Except, I’m not a one-and-done kind of girl.

I wish I were.

Hell, I wish I was with Drake, but I’m leery of giving in too soon, too fast.

Too easy.

But what if this is exactly what I need? A bit of distraction from the pain filling my past?

One of my reasons for coming to Peace Springs is to make a fresh start. To leave the pain of broken promises and flying fists behind me, where they can’t hurt me anymore, but I have no intention of jumping into another relationship.

My answer hovers on the next breath. And I don’t know what I’ll say.

WELCOME

Agroan rumbles through Drake’s chest, a low, warbling sound full of masculine need. His desire echoes in the hammering of my pulse. This connection we share doesn’t make sense.

It’s insane. Intense.

We barely know each other.

We met less than twelve hours ago, but whatever this is, it isn’t something I want to stop.

I lick my lips, wetting them in preparation for the heat of his mouth upon me. With a shuddering inhale, I glide my fingers across the swell of his biceps and sweep across the hardened planes of his chest. My fingers explore every ridge and valley of his sharply cut muscle.

I stroke the back of his neck and twine my fingers in the hair at his nape. He’s tall, broad of shoulder, and can’t help but dominate my personal space. Normally, that’s something I would avoid.

How many times did Scott cage me in?

That never ended well.

This, however, is different in so many ways. Most importantly, I welcome the intrusion. I want to see where this leads.

My lungs seethe with my answer, hanging on the precipice of saying, if not yes, then definitely not the no he demands.

As reckless as this is, being with Drake feels like coming home. Or maybe, it feels like closing the door on my past.

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