Page 70 of Unstable

“I HAVE A BETTERidea. I’m so damn sick of that couch I could scream, and honestly, it’s not comfortable at all. If you’re gonna deliver bad news, I don't want to just sit and take it. I’d rather be up and moving, dodging bullets. Can you tell me while we see to the animals?”

He doesn’t say anything right away. Rather, he takes me in—every last inch and nuance of my face—with eyes that have turned a dark, smoldering indigo. And his hard-working hands move with a feathery touch down my neck, arms, and back up again to weave in my hair.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps in a husky timbre, “we can do that. Have I told you lately how damn beautiful you are? You’re amazing, Henny. I’ve always known both, but now that I finally get an up-close view? Everything about you, inside and out, is fucking mesmerizing.”

The low rumble in his chest is my only warning before his mouth descends and demands the surrender of mine. Strong, urgent lips massage my own open and he slides his tongue inside, seeking a taste of every part of my mouth.

“Touch me, baby,” he groans, sharing my breath. “Anywhere, just touch me.”

I do, unbidden by thought; because he’s erased that capability. My hands sneak under the hem of his shirt and slowly, greedily rub along the bare skin of his abdomen.

Damn, farm work does a body good.

I feel his muscles, firm and many, tighten under my touch so I tease some more. Using a single fingertip, I trace each individual line that defines one cut muscle from the next and that has him making deep, animalistic sounds and taking my mouth harder, faster, deeper.

It makes me heady with power, knowing I have such an effect on him. That my hands can cause his masculine moans and his skin to flush heatedly.

So I take more, exploring further up over his flat, hard stomach to his rigid pecs. And what I feel…I have to see.

I tear my mouth from his and lean back, surveying the physique I’ve uncovered. I inhale a tiny gasp and pray my eyes aren’t bulging, but I know it’s futile, ‘cause…holy mother of hot damn!

“All yours, anytime you want it, baby,” his murmur is hedged with cocky pride, knowing I’m beyond impressed.

And then, in what I can only attribute to an out-of- body experience, I lean in to press an open mouth kiss to his chest and slink a hand down to fondle the bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “Henny, playin’ with fire, woman. I want you so God damn bad.” His mouth finds my neck, sucking and licking in crazed chaos. “Can I take you baby? You want me between those sweet thighs?”

Do I ever.

I should wait though, until I’ve heard what he’s got to tell me. Something that may change everything.

So…maybe just let him use his hand then?

No. There’s no way I’d be able to stop there. Keaton Cash touches my most intimate spot and I’ll rocket straight into another hemisphere—an unknown layer between reality and euphoria where the word no or any self-control ceases to exist.

“H…horses,” I protest in breathy non-protest.

“What?” His laugh tingles on my neck.

“Horses. Cows. Chores.” I find reason and duck, escaping under his arm to dash across the room, catching my breath.

He slowly spins to face me, his expression a mismatch of humored frustration. He adjusts the hard-on he’s packing and grunts.

“Darlin’, you have more than exceeded the whole ‘hard to get’ thing. Just in case that’s what you’re going for. You can stop torturing me, anytime. You’ve set the bar high enough, baby.”

“It’s not that. I just…have a lot to do today, and you have a lot to tell me, right? I think we should get all that out of the way before we complicate things on a whole new level.”

“That’s what you think, that finally giving yourself to me will complicate things?” Uh oh, he’s prowling closer again, a male determination glimmering in his eyes. “Henny, listen closely. We’re already halfway there, and I’m laying all the groundwork so nothing or no one will ever complicate things for you again. Pretty soon, the only thing you’ll ever have to worry about a day in your life, is if you’re in the mood for me to love you fast or slow, hard or sweet.”

I put one hand on his chest and push him back—well actually, he doesn’t budge, but it creates a false sense of space. “As a man, I think you’re associating sex with way too much. Sex is sex, not a lifetime of my mood, opening jars, and who drives. Do you secretly read Nicholas Sparks?”

“No idea who that is. I read you, Henley Gene.” He lightly skims the back of his hand down my cheek. “Spent as much of my lifetime as I could reading you. And that’s what I’m associating sex with. You. And you associate sex with a lifetime of love, opening jars, and me driving. You and I both know it’s true, baby, and I’m totally on board. When you give yourself to me, you’re giving me all of you, forever. And I’m fucking taking it.”

“What would you have done if I’d never came back?”

“You were always gonna come back, eventually.”

I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t. So what would—”

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