Page 65 of Unbearable

I needed one more kiss. I’d make one kiss last the rest of my life if I had to.

“One more. Let me get it out of my system. I won’t tempt you again after today. Promise,” I pleaded, although I knew I could never get enough of her. Her chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. She shook her head.

“Do your worst, cowboy,” she teased, the sleepymorning haze working in my favor to lessen her capability of thinking entirely straight.

Without hesitation, I leaned in, my heart pounding in my chest. Her blue eyes held mine before they finally fluttered shut. Our lips met, and the world fell away. I lost myself in her yet again.

Our last kiss was raw and frenzied, built up by tension and desire, but this kiss wasdifferent. It was slower, more deliberate, as if we both were savoring every fleeting moment. I felt her hands reach up to my jaw, her touch gentle yet intentional.

My hand went to the back of her head, pulling her mouth even closer. A groan left me that I couldn’t have stopped even if I tried. She whimpered in response, which snapped the last bit of resolve I had. My fingers dug into her skin, needing any way, every way, to be closer to her.

My hand found her waist and pulled her closer. Her leg rested over my hip, my cock lightly brushing against her. She moaned before pulling away, resting her forehead on mine. I felt the loss of her immediately.

“The noises you make. They drive me crazy.Youdrive me crazy,” I whispered. She took a breath, steadying and composing herself as if nothing had happened.

“There’s your last kiss, cowboy. Now let’s get ready to go. Gotta make it home in time for Sunday night dinner.” She smiled, jumping out of bed.

I watched her walk away, her ass on full display in her tiny sleep shorts. “Stop checking me out, cowboy!” she yelled back at me.

“Never.”

She flipped me off before disappearing into the bathroom, and I was left there with a smile on my face that wouldn’t go away.

TWENTY-THREE

Dotty

A BAR SONG (TIPSY) - SHABOOZEY

The morning after the wedding,I woke up determined to act as if nothing had happened. My instinct to bury my emotions was strong, and I wasn’t ready to face the reality of our situation. Unfortunately, that proved to be extremely difficult, considering we were sharing a damn hotel room.

I wanted to pretend there had been no kiss—no mind-blowing, life-altering kiss. I tried to convince myself it was simply a figment of my imagination.

And I really wanted to pretend I didn’t hear Trent coming in the shower with my fucking name on his lips.

Even though it felt so right, I knew logically it could never work between us. Our lives were too different, our circumstances too complex, our lives centering around completely different places—his in Woodstone and mine in Seattle.

Trent deserved a perfect ranch wife—someone willing to stay home, raise his two-point-five kids, help manage the ranch, and share in his spontaneous nature. White picket fence and all.

But that wasn’t me.

I had always been focused on my career, driven by ambitions that took me far from the small-town life. While I might want kids someday, I wasn’t ready to be barefoot and pregnant, running around in a milkmaid dress for the rest of my life.

But damn, what I knew was wrong felt so right. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on it without risking the need for more from him.

If I thought too hard about it, I knew he could convince me that we could figure this out and make it work.

And that scared me because deep down, a part of me wanted to believe him.

But this was Trent. My childhood best friend. My brother’s best friend. The man I spent years hating to mask the fact that I felt the exact opposite. We had a history that was messy and complicated, filled with memories of laughter, tears, and everything in between. Letting him in meant reopening old wounds and exposing myself to the possibility of new ones. The logical side of my brain begged me to run, even as my heart begged me to stay.

I learned the hard way that I can only trust the logical side. If I let my emotions play into things too deeply, I ended up hurt.

From a young age, I learned to be cautious with my emotions. Losing my mom at only ten years old taught me the pain of attachment and loss, leaving a lasting fear of vulnerability. Growing up without a mother, I became independent and self-reliant, always seeking stability over anything else.

It was safer to rely on logic, to protect myself from the heartache that inevitably followed when my heart made decisions.

Even though Trent was the only person who made me feel truly safe, I couldn’t let that battle in my head override the safety of not being left heartbroken when I returned to my life in Seattle.

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