Page 70 of Tough Nut to Crack

I feel like a live wire, as if I could provide the amount of electricity needed to power the entire town.

I groan into her mouth, smiling when I feel her lips turn up into a smile against mine.

With an arm wrapped around her middle, I guide her a few feet backward, pressing her body against a massive oak tree and rolling my hips to let her know just how easily she affects me.

"Riley," I whisper, suddenly wishing we'd gone inside instead of staying out here. "I—"

"That right there looks almost better than the casserole."

I snap my eyes in the direction of the voice, ready to fire the man willing to interrupt this moment.

Riley buries her head into my chest, and I hate that I'm glaring at Ronnie instead of seeing the pink I know is in her cheeks.

"What?" I snap at the man.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says without an ounce of remorse in his eyes. "Ms. Riley, do you have maple syrup? My momma always had some when she made this type of breakfast."

"Are you kidding me?"

I'm seething, and Ronnie doesn't even spare me a glance as he waits for Riley's reply.

"There's some in the tote bag on the table," she says, her fingers curling into my shirt when I move to lunge at the guy.

Ronnie dips his head in thanks before disappearing around the edge of the tree.

"I'll kill him," I grumble as I look back down at her, trying my best not to get too lost in the way her lips are cherry red and slightly swollen from our kiss.

"Leave him be," she says, the warmth of her fingertips working their way up my chest before settling at the nape of my neck.

I could get lost in this woman's gaze for a lifetime, and there's something a little calming about that, but at the same time, it makes me question my sanity.

"I've missed you," I whisper, thoughts of Ronnie's interruptingquickly fading away.

"I've been right down the hallway. Let's go have some breakfast. I doubt you've had a decent meal in days."

Chapter 29

Riley

Thousands, if not millions, of questions, swarm through my mind as I look up at him.

The bite of the tree at my back counters the way his body pressed to mine makes me feel, and I find something thrilling about the opposing sensations. I can tell by the way he rolls his hips that there's a part of him that wishes we were alone right now, and if I take a moment to try and figure out exactly what I want, part of me wishes his crew were off on some job and not a mere ten or so feet away. But even with him looking down at me like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen, there's always that whisper of doubt in the back of my mind. I can't imagine a day when that whisper isn't going to be just a little louder than the one urging me to sink into his arms and trust that he'll never hurt me.

"Breakfast," I whisper again, the boldness that made me kiss him first quickly starting to fade.

His tongue sneaks out and swipes at his bottom lip, and the man makes no move to pull away from me. Despite him claiming me last week, I know better than to think that everything is fine with us. We spent the last several days avoiding each other. For him to insist I'm his, he sure made simple work of not trying to situate himself in front of me. I have no clue how long that would've gone on had I not shown up here today with breakfast and thrust myself into his path.

The conversation with the girls this weekend at Claire's bridal party really hit home for me. I don't want to ruin a chance at happiness because I'm afraid of getting hurt, and Sage was right. I need to stop thinking about all the negatives and understand that my hangups about my size and the treatment I've gotten from other people can't be shoved off on Mac because the man has never looked at my body sideways or made me feel like he was disgusted with what he saw. Hell, the man damn near salivates when he sees me standing naked in front of him.

Memories of the times he's run his eyes up and down the length of my body make it incredibly hard to push him away right now, but somehow I manage.

"Breakfast," I whisper again, dropping my eyes to the front of his jeans. "Do you need a minute?"

I fight a smile as he chews the inside of his cheek, his eyes locked on mine.

"Need more than a minute, baby."

I've never been one to pay much attention to pet names, but that four-letter word rolling off his tongue lights my skin on fire with need and anticipation.

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