Page 64 of You Cake My Breath Away

Archer grimaces as he looks up from his notebook. “How does the ranch hand endure this? I’m not sure I can sleep with the odor this strong.”

I pinch my nose. “Me either.”

He rises from the floor and peeks out the window. “It’s not raining anymore. Not that it’ll be much better, but maybe we can find some extra blankets in that chest in the hallway and sleep out there? The breeze might help.”

I follow him out of the room, eyes lingering on the opened journal on the floor. I almost stop to steal a peek at it, but something holds me back. Archer’s voice calls to me from down the hallway. He’s standing with covers piled onto his arms, a smile of success on his face.

“Let’s see if we can find a semi-dry spot outside.”

Horses neigh and huff as he walks down the stairs and out the door. The sky is completely clear of clouds as if a few hours ago it wasn’t raining. It’s a tad humid, but the air isn’t as heavy with the smell of manure. Archer pats the ground, searching out the least wet spot.

“What about the bed of the truck?” he asks, hopeful.

I shrug. “It’s actually larger than the bed inside, and worst comes to worst, I can sleep in the front seat.”

He rolls his eyes and swipes the small amount of collected water onto the ground. “We’ll make it work.”

He throws handfuls of clean hay into the bed of Bob’s truck, making a layer over the ridges so they won’t hurt our backs. I spread out the covers while Archer runs inside to get our pillows and belongings. When he returns, I’m already two covers deep staring up at the stars in the sky.

Coming from the city, it’s rare to see stars. San Antonio is filled with twenty-four-hour Whataburgers and gas stations galore. There’s always too much light to see anything but buildings for miles.

The truck dips when Archer climbs in and slides beneath the covers. Even with another barrier between us, I can still feel the heat from his body. He lays on his back, arm bent behind his head, and I struggle to keep my eyes from staring at his bulging biceps.

“Did you bring your camera?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“You’re ogling me like you want me to take off my shirt.”

“I am not,” I reply, haughtily. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you did.”

He laughs, reaching behind him and pulling his shirt off with one of those sexy one hand maneuvers. My hands wrap around the blanket in an effort not to reach out and touch his smooth pecs or allow my fingers to trace each individual pillow of muscle on his stomach.

“Are you doing okay?” Archer turns, staring at the side of my face.

Even though the temperature has dropped, my underarms gather moisture and make the double covers unbearable. Why did I think wearing leggings under this dress was a good idea?

I slide out from the bottom layer and into the top. My brain screams,nearly naked man beside you, but I shut it down.

“I’m fine, just a tad hot.”

“You’ve always been hot,” he says.

I slap his chest. He catches my hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss each pad of my fingers before he places one in the center of my palm then lays it down on his chest. The feather light kiss sends my heart on its own racetrack around my body, speeding past my stomach and moving into my core.

“Are you okay when I touch you?” His eyebrows are cinched tightly, a pained look on his face. “I just realized I never asked if this was…okay?”

Warmth rises in my chest. When he first started touching me, I thought I’d freak out, but I noticed it didn’t affect me the same way I expected. His touch brings me a sense of peace.

I nod. “I like when you touch me.”

The need to have him touch me in places long forgotten rises, and my thighs quiver with the restraint of keeping them closed. My fingertips tingle as I play with his small patch of dark chest hair, trying to convince myself it’d be a bad idea to kiss him again. If the lights coming on hadn’t separated us at the bakery, would we have been able to stop before we went too far? Is this thing between us just something fun, or does it have potential for…more?

A tug in my chest tells me it’s the latter, and that has me leaning forward and sealing my lips over his. He groans like he’s been waiting for this all day, and his hands move into my hair, tilting my head so he can taste me deeper. A spark in my chest urges me closer to him, desperate for the intimacy I’ve denied myself.

His firm grip lands on my thigh, squeezing and pulling my leg across his body. He’s hard beneath my leg, so close to where I need him but so far. Soft caresses move their way up the side of my shirt, thumb testing the underwire of my bra.

“Tilly,” Archer rasps, breathlessly ripping his lips from mine. “If this is not something you want, something you’re not ready for, we should stop right now.”

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