Page 36 of Covert

He straightened quickly, depriving her of the chance to lean against his hand. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here. I don’t have time to send out a search party if you get lost.”

Sam noted his rigid posture and the frown that hadn’t disappeared. If she planned to make him want her tonight, she had her work cut out for her.

“I had no choice. When Speedy wants her man, she’ll stop at nothing. I sat along for the ride.”

His eyes darkened imperceptibly in the waning light and she resisted the urge to squirm in the saddle. Silence stretched between them as she struggled to find something bright and witty to say. Thankfully, Mouse pawed the ground as if keen to get moving, breaking their deadlocked stare.

“Let’s head back. I’m starving.” He wheeled around, not sending her a backward look.

So am I.

Though Sam knew her hunger had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the man sitting on his horse, surveying his land.

She’d made a lightning-fast decision several minutes ago and she hoped she had the guts to go through with it.

If this was her last week with Dylan, she would make the most of it, no tears, no regrets.

She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted any man, and for tonight, she would cast aside her inhibitions, her common sense, and every self-preservation mechanism that screamed she might be doing the wrong thing, and go after him. No holds barred.

She smiled as the homestead came into sight, knowing Dylan wouldn’t know what hit him when she pulled out all stops tonight.

And prayed she’d have the strength to walk away when it ended.

26

Dylan sat in the worn recliner that had been his dad’s favourite and stretched his legs out toward the blazing fire.

“Here’s your wine. Cheers.” Sam touched the rim of her glass to his before raising it to her lips and taking a sip.

He gulped the wine without tasting it, wishing he could tear his gaze away from her mouth while simultaneously wishing for those lips to do a whole lot more.

“Cheers,” he murmured, knowing that for as long as he lived, he would never figure women out.

Since their ride, Sam had done her best to appear cheerful and relaxed, the exact opposite of her demeanour when they arrived.

She made small talk over dinner and had appeared genuinely interested in his plans for this place, his pride and joy. He hadn’t felt so comfortable in a woman’s presence in a long time and knew now would be as good a time as any to broach the subject of her ongoing contract.

“Samantha, we need to talk.”

To his amazement, she laughed and reached for his glass. “Are you ever going to lighten up and call me Sam again?”

He could’ve sworn she sashayed across the room, setting their glasses on the mantelpiece before turning to face him, an inviting, coy smile playing across her lips.

“Well?”

He leaned back in the chair and placed his hands behind his head, admiring her silhouette with the fire at her back. As if basking in his appreciation, she stretched her arms back toward the heat and rubbed her hands together, the simple action pulling her shirt taut against her chest and outlining the curve of her breasts.

Heat surged through his body as he fought the impulse to drag her down to the sheepskin rug in front of the fire and tear open her shirt. “You think I need to lighten up?”

“I know you do.”

Reading his mind, she sank onto the rug and his fantasy took flight. He imagined peeling the clothes from her body, exposing the skin beneath to his hands and mouth, before making them both climb the walls with mind-blowing sex.

“Dylan?”

Even the soft, breathy way she uttered his name had him focussing on all the wrong cues.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

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