Page 183 of We Redeemed the Rain

He frowned in concern, his hands rising back to my face. His thumbs, ever moving, swiped over my bottom lip, skittering electricity through my belly. His touch transported me—suddenly every nerve ending in my body came awake at the memory of being squished against the side of the Ranger as Tag’s kiss consumed me. I drew a sharp breath, my voice stammering. “It’s—nothing a little rest won’t—” But my words trailed off, extinguished by the blazing heat in his eyes as he gazed at my mouth.

Instantly, I forgot what I was even going to say.

Kiss me, Tag. Claim me.

He pulled me forward, his mouth meshing with mine.

I sighed against him as his hands slipped around my waist, touching the bare skin there. A soft groan rumbled up from his throat as I shifted closer, raising my arms around his shoulders. My shirt inched up, exposing more skin for his hands to softly explore.

He angled his face to mine. In unison, we deepened the kiss, each of us wanting more. My hands plowed into his hair and his body shuddered, a flame of desire instantaneously igniting beneath us. Right before our kiss turned downright greedy, the door cracked open.

Declan stuck his head in. “Knock knock.”

We broke our kiss, but Tag’s hands still clutched me possessively, like he had no intention of letting go.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry. Uh, I just wanted to give you your guitar. I’ve got to get the studio ready for my next client.”

I pressed my lips together. “Right. Sorry, Declan, we’ll get out of here.”

I relieved him of Glory and Tag grabbed his hat off the back of the couch.

We didn't linger with my family, sight see, or grab dinner in downtown Denver. We didn’t accept any invitations to come to the house or do brunch on Saturday morning.

Hand-in-hand, I dragged him to the parking garage, threw myself behind the wheel, and drove my cowboy into the mountains.

FIFTY

Bea

Tag was quiet as he got a fire glowing in the fireplace.

The mountain temperatures were chilly at night even in the late summer. Perfect for a small fire. I plopped down on the couch, curious as to why he had grown oddly quiet. He had been excited, chatting my ear off, but now he seemed stoic—lost in deep thought. He squatted near the hearth, the poker still in his hand. But his eyes stared through the fire.

“What are you thinking about, Tag?”

He startled. “Uh, yeah, I—I need to say something.” He stood and slowly made his way to the couch, sitting a safe distance from me. He ran his hand through his locks, lightly gripping his hat hair. “I feel really stupid. I should’ve said something before. About us bein’ alone up here. I, uhm, well…”

His face bloomed with a full blush.

I waited.

“I didn’t know what you were expecting and—I probably should’ve communicated what I was, or am, expecting. I’ve never…” He gripped his hair again, turning his face from me in embarrassment. “Shit. Sorry.”

“You’re fine. Take your time.”

“I’ve—I’ve never had a romantic relationship…ever.”

Understanding dawned, but I let him continue.

“I don’t plan to be, uhm, intimate for the first time…until…” He swiped his hand over his face, wanting to hide. My throat tightened. He picked up speed, trying to power through the explanation. “I have work to do on myself before that side of things comes into play.” He softly cussed in frustration. “I’m probably not makin’ sense.”

“You're makingperfectsense.”

He glanced at me.

I continued, “The first time might…bring up a lot.”

He nodded, visible relief washing over his face. “I need to talk through some stuff with Miss Simone. I should’ve told you?—”

---