Page 25 of Lead Me Knot

He stirs and places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Have you slept at all?” he asks, his rugged voice groggy from exhaustion yet still so sexy.

“A little,” I lie, but maybe I dozed off a few times over the past few hours. I don’t feel tired at all.

“What’s on your mind?”

The slightest of laughs escapes me. “It might be easier to talk about what’s not on my mind.”

“Okay.” I hear the lightness in his tone like a smile has taken hold. I bet it’s a great smile, but I’m too comfy to move to see it in the dark. “What’s not on your mind?”

“The Dow Jones and what makes the Curaçao liquor blue.”

There’s a pause in his breathing, but then he chuckles. “Being in finance, the Dow Jones is always on my mind. As for the drink, isn’t it just blue dye?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not been thinking about it, but I guess I’ll add it to the long list of other things on my mind now.”

“There’s no need to concern yourself with things that can wait until daylight.” His finger finds the base of my chin and lifts until our eyes find each other in the dim light of early morning that dares to sneak in through the crosshairs of the blinds. “What’s got your mind all tangled, Shortcake?”

“Everything,” I whisper, knowing full well that’s a cop-out.

His left cheek lifts so slightly, but it’s so comforting to see him relaxed and dare I say, happy. “This. You’ve been here for two days, and it already feels like you’ve unpacked and taken up your own corner of my thoughts.”

“Oh yeah? Is that good or bad?”

I laugh, tempted to hide my eyes from him because I know they give so much away. I don’t, though. I hold the contact and reply, “Too good if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Baylor slides his hand across my collarbone tomy back and then brings me in closer. “We struck like lightning. Out of the blue.”

I nod. “With daylight coming, it’s starting to feel like the end is near.”

He kisses my forehead. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Until the farm comes to life and your family starts looking for you again.”

This time, I feel him nod against the top of my head. “Why don’t you come out for lunch? Chris is planning a big meal to send me back to the city stuffed with some of my favorite foods. I think it’s a ploy to get me to come back more often.”

“I wouldn’t be so upset if it worked.” Why hold back? There’s nothing to lose at this hour by saying what’s hanging on my heart. The sun will rise, and we’ll return to being the casual friends we’ve always been.

“Guess we’ll see.” Rolling to his back, he lies with his arm over his head as if the weight of something came over him. Maybe I said too much? Perhaps my being sentimental with a man I just had sex with is too soon? Maybe this is a lot for both of us to process? “Stop overthinking it.”

“What?” I reply defensively because I was in so deep with my thoughts that I’ve looped back around to the top to start overthinking from the beginning again.

Turning to look at me, he asks, “Do you regret what we did?”

“No.” I won’t lie about that. “I liked it too much.” I grin like a fool for this man.

Best part?He grins right back at me. “Me too, so how about we take one step at a time? Come for lunch at the ranch.”

“And eat corn on the cob like I didn’t have the best sex of my life just hours prior with the man sitting across from mewhile my best friend talks about her favorite potato salad recipe?”

“Yes.” His hand finds mine. He brings it to his mouth and kisses my palm. “And tell me again about that best sex part.”

I giggle. “How about you tell me about it?”

“Best sex ever,” he whispers, shifting to his side to face me. He kisses my shoulder. My neck. That spot behind the ear that gets me worked up every time. The scruff from the shadow of his beard scrapes against my jaw, and then my lips are met by the pressure of his. He deepens the kiss as his knee spreads my legs apart for his body to take possession of the space.

I welcome him into me in all ways, this time taking the time to memorize the weight of his body on mine, the way his tongue twists with mine in a slow, calculated dance that has me humming in response. But it’s his fingers dipping between my legs, the way he takes control of my orgasm, bringing me to the edge and then slipping on a condom to finish the job inside me that makes me miss him before he’s even left the bed, much less Peachtree Pass.

I let go of my thoughts and the tension that uncoils from my body, releasing the worries I usually carry and embracing the release. He finishes just as I land back in reality. I hold him, needing to feel the erratic movements, the groan, the satisfaction as it rips through him like it did me. I need this to hold me when he’s gone.

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