Page 367 of Steamy Ever After

His eyes pinch. “Did I do something wrong?”

Yes and no, but how to explain that without exposing the details of an abusive past?

“No.” It isn’t a complete lie, but neither is it the truth. “It’s just, being new, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea…”

“Meaning you don’t want me to get the wrong idea.” He brushes aside the fringe of his dark bangs and straightens to his full height.

I place my palm against his chest. Warmth pulses from him to my fingertips, our connection strong enough to travel up my arm and swirl around my heart. Hesitant not to ruin the evening before it even begins, I bite at my lower lip.

“That kiss was …”

“Hot,” he says with a smirk.

I place my hands on his shoulders and balance on tiptoe until I can brush my lips against his. “It was amazing, but faster than I’m used to.”

Socially reserved, it generally takes me forever to warm up to anyone. It took five dates before I let Scott kiss me the first time, and I didn’t sleep with him for months after we started dating.

If Henry hadn’t arrived with his tow truck and interrupted what was happening in that barn, I’m certain Drake would’ve followed through on his promise.

And the strangest thing?

I want to know how it feels to be led by nothing other than the flames of passion because I never allow myself the freedom to find out.

His finger lifts my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes. “I swear, city girl, sometimes I can see your mind churning its gears.” He grips my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Now, how about we see to dinner? Maybe hit a bar? Monday nights, there’s not much happening around here, but we can find a bar with a jukebox, and I bet I can clear the floor and take you for a twirl.”

Dancing?

Oh no! Anything but that.

“How about dinner and a couple of drinks? We can leave the dancing to the kids.”

He wraps his hands around my waist, picks me up, and twirls me in the air. “Fuck that, you’re dancing with me.”

I squeal as he spins me around. When he stops, a banked heat smolders in his eyes. At first, I stare down at him, and then he lowers me slowly.

Our eyes meet.

He presses his lips against mine, this time giving a slow, gentle caress. Then he lowers me still until I have to crane my neck.

A breath in, and his dark, heady musk fills my nasal passages. My feet have yet to reach the ground, but I don’t care. I never care if I ever walk again.

Laying my cheek against the expanse of his chest, I breathe out a sigh, feeling content for the first time in years.

“No dancing,” I say.

“You let me decide.” He places a kiss on my forehead. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

KING RANCH

Asmall town of a few thousand, Peace Springs barely supports the need for a doctor. Which means, there isn’t much to do in town on a Monday night.

“What do you have in mind for dinner?” I’m interested to find out what constitutes a good time in such a small town.

While growing up, my visits here were the adventures of a child. A night on the town included a burger, a shake at Eddie’s Soda Shoppe, and being allowed to stay out past nine.

He holds my hand, supporting me as I take the steps leading off the porch. Sitting beside my Jeep, a black F250 heavy duty King Ranch chirps and flashes its lights.

“It’s a surprise,” he answers with a wink. “I’m thinking something special for a city girl.”

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